#charles rowland/ reader

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (1)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 800

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

PART 1 ✧˖°.

"Promise me.”

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise." 

The Dream Lord stiffened in his seat as he banished away his thoughts to the darkest chambers of his mind, afraid they would return otherwise. But they still did, every time. The colours swirling in the glass pane that framed his throne cast vibrant hues of light on his poised face, accentuating his features that were sharp enough to cut skin. Promise Dream, the words came back as a whisper, evoking a chill on his neck that travelled through his spine. He shut his eyes willing his mind to quiet, trying to-

"My lord." Lucienne's welcoming voice pulled him to the present. 

"You have a visitor," she announced. 

Morpheus raised an eyebrow imperceptibly at his failure to come up with someone who might visit his realm, especially when he was not expecting anyone. 

"Little brother,”

The voice was accompanied by a woman with black curls and a skin that glowed before the light from the glass pane even touched her. 

"Death," Morpheus stated, bewilderment tucked somewhere in his tone. After all, he hadn't expected to meet her again so soon. 

"How are you?" She asked.

"I am truly well sister, what brings you here?"

Death knew how much truth his ‘truly well’ held but let it pass for the moment. "Lucienne would you please excuse us for a minute?" 

"Ofcourse my lady.” She dipped her head and pursued the command, closing the colossal doors behind her. 

"Something...something has happened.” Death wasted no time in speaking.  

This time Dream did not try to hide the raise in his eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?" His calm voice floated through the room. 

"Dream,”

Before she could follow the sentence, turmoil had already begun growing within him, Death was using his name only to soften the blow. 

"It's here."

“Bloody hell, that was one hell of a case!” Charles exclaimed as he shut the door behind you three. 

“Charles you know Edwin suffers from serious ptsd please stop using hell so much around him. It’s not like the British lack in creative curses,” you reprimanded him as you shrugged your jacket off, draping it over the couch. 

“Haha you’re hilarious,” Edwin stated monotonically while Charles started chanting ‘hell’ in the background just to spite the both of you. 

“Thanks hon,” you winked. “And Charles shut that hole up or if the ghost didn’t get you I surely will.”

“Hell hell hell hell hell- ow what was that for?” 

You grinned in delight as your boot contacted with his abdomen, “for being annoying.” 

Another “ow” escaped Charles as he sent glaring looks at you. “And that?” 

“For being you,” you beamed, devoid of both your boots now.

Your smile was quickly wiped off your face as Charles began his incantation right in your face. 

“Get away from me!” You groaned flailing your hands to push his bloodied face away. 

“Okay now I don’t know about you both but I for one am seriously tired after the events that have transpired during the day. So if you will excuse me and please take whatever this is,” Edwin gestured at the both of you with a foul expression, “somewhere else because I need to rest.” 

“Hell hell hell,” Charles resumed being annoying as if nothing had happened. 

“I swear if even a droplet of that ghost’s blood drops on my t-shirt I will fucking kill you. Again.” 

“Hell hell- you love me too much for that-hell hell-”

“Yeah? Go on and find out- NO!” You let out a scream that would have for sure woken up your neighbours if you had any, being a secretive ghost agency and what not. 

“You bitch! That was my favourite t-shirt!” You looked down at the once white fabric now bearing an impression of Charles' right profile in blood.

“I know.” He had the audacity to smirk at that. 

You went for his throat, fully determined to give truth to your previous threat when Edwin pulled you from him. 

"Enough! Both of you!” 

Charles and you stared at each other, your ears still hot with fury.

“Charles go wash up that face please! And Hazel you need sleep, unlike us, so go retire to your bedroom.” 

“Like you can just order us around,” you rolled your eyes. 

But Edwin’s one look in your way got you scrambling for your jacket. 

“Yes boss.” Charles made his way to the bathroom. 

“Goodnight Edwin, fuck you Charles.” And you departed with your wishes.

You sighed as you switched on the lights in your room, and plopped down on the single bed. Not even mustering up the courage to change into your night clothes, you let sleep engulf you and entered the world of dreaming. 

A/N: hello peeps this story is set post the events of the sandman show and i haven’t read the comics so you will have to bear with the inconsistencies and the like. if i mess up real bad pls do let me know<3

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

[adalwolfgang]

DBD incorrect quotes…

FYI: Thomas=Cat King for those who don’t know

Thomas: Must be hard not being able to laugh

(Name): I do have a sense of humor you know

Thomas: I’ve never heard you laugh before

(Name): I’ve never heard you say anything funny

————————————————————

Thomas: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you

(Name): 10 times 0 is still 0 though

Thomas: Jokes on you, I can't do math

————————————————————

(Name): Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Thomas: or maybe you’re just a dumbass.

————————————————————

(Name): HELP! I TOLD CHARLES I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN���T COOK!

Thomas, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

————————————————————

(Name), holding a puppy: Guys I impulsively bought a puppy, what do I name him.

Thomas, horrified: You did WHAT–

Niko: Snoopy

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*DBD characters react to you telling them “I love you”*

Edwin: *Panic*

Niko: *cries* I love you too

Charles: Sounds fake but okay

Crystal: *A flustered mess*

Thomas: can i get a refund

————————————————————

(Name): If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Charles: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Edwin: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Charles, learn to listen.

Niko: What if it bites itself and I die?

Thomas: That’s voodoo.

Crystal: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Charles: That’s correlation, not causation.

Niko: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Thomas: That’s kinky.

(Name): Oh my God.

[vaguesxrrow]

more charles rowland plsssss?? maybe him with a short!alive!reader?

oh ABSOLUTELY ! i am both short and alive so this request made me very happy and i hope it's to your liking as well xx this took a bit longer than expected but thank you for your patience!

charles rowland/short!alive!reader

tags: gender neutral reader

- first thing we need to establish is that charles loves your height and the height difference between you two

- he doesnt like you BECAUSE of your height - he isnt the type to be picky about that - he just sees it as yet another cute benefit of dating you

- arm over your shoulder 24/7, and when he's trying to (affectionately) annoy you it's over your head

- this is also a perk because it doesnt look like you're holding an invisible hand out in public

- but when you two are talking and walking and charles is hanging on to every word you're saying, he may bump into someone and there is the chance they'll think it was you (oops)

- when you hiss at him to 'watch where he's going', he'll apologise, but also, "but i only have eyes for you, it's not my fault i don't notice anyone else."

- he enjoys hearing you talk about modern film or books or celebrities

- the above scenario could definitely occur if he's very invested in your retelling of the show you're currently watching and forgets to notice who's passing by

- ooh and he likes watching modern shows with you cause he wants to keep up with the times and hang out with you

- he'll also link arms with you xx

- charles likes to pick you up

- okay most of the time it just happens unintentionally, if he's hugging you in relief after a dangerous case

- but when he IS aware of it he'll gently pick you up and spin you around

- or, alternatively, if you need something that's high up

- of course he'll always get anything you ask for on the top shelf (and demand a thank you kiss ofc)

- but sometimes it's out of both of your reach so teamwork is needed, and he'll pick you up to get it

- you: "charles, go higher to the right,"

- charles: "your right or my right?"

- you have the same right. if that wasnt obvious.

- imagine: you hitting him on the head for that comment, and he stumbles, which sends you off balance as well and both of you fall

- he's very chivalrous though so he breaks your fall and lets you land on top of him xx

- backtracking to the picking you up thing, charles will also lift you up to kiss you, even if only a bit is needed because let's be real this boy is a romantic

- one thing he WONT do is hold things up high out of your reach because he thinks it's mean, even though you know he would never try to hurt you on purpose

- he likes hugging you and then resting his chin on your head

- hands at the back of your neck, cradling your face when you two are talking

[bi-bard]

If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again - Charles Rowland Imagine [Dead Boy Detectives]

Title: If I Could Hold You for a Minute, I'd Go Through It Again

Pairing: Charles Rowland X Witch!Reader

Based On: Francesca

Word Count: 3,361 words

Warning(s): physical attack, mentions of family trauma/death/injury

Summary: Whoever claimed that risking your life was only for the living had never seen the true devotion of a ghost before.

Author's Note: Wow, Kyli liked another project that was inspired by Neil Gaiman's work... what a surprise. If you have any characters that you want to see, let me know.

Also, I'M HOME! I MADE IT BACK TO YOU GUYS!

**written in third person p.o.v for sake of storytelling**

UNREAL UNEARTH - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

If there was one word that was always used in tandem with (Y/n)'s name, it was chaos.

Or messy.

Or clumsy.

Or wild.

Or any other word that could possibly mean the same thing.

Early on, (Y/n) could excuse it as inexperience. Maybe age would tame whatever beast seemed to be roaring in their brain and their chest. Maybe someone would explain the best way to leash an animal that was so much larger than you.

No one ever did.

Instead, (Y/n) ended up alone. Alone, terrified, and as out of control as ever. A cruel hand had been dealt to them when they were far too young. And now, the teenager was left coping with things that most adults could not handle.

Meeting Edwin and Charles had been the first good thing to happen to (Y/n) ever.

(Y/n)'s isolated life was interrupted quite abruptly by the ghosts. A case had brought the detectives to (Y/n)'s doorstep. They had been wearing disguises at the time, but those were quickly put away when they learned that (Y/n) was a witch.

A partnership of sorts formed between the three of them. With Edwin, it was more sternly a working relationship. He rarely found himself in (Y/n)'s home, especially when there was no case that required their assistance.

With Charles, it was very different. Charles would visit whenever he wanted to. He would usually be the first to ask for help, popping in through a mirror in the main room. He'd take the time to look around the small living space. And when there wasn't a case, he would pop in whenever. It was commonly just as (Y/n) was sitting down to eat or read or do anything.

Charles and (Y/n) developed an interesting friendship. A friendship that was resting precariously on held tongues. Anyone could see how close the two had gotten to crossing the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side. Anyone other than the pair. They were both trapped in a state of denial. Maybe that was for the best for a time.

(Y/n)'s chaos had been largely hidden away from the detectives. Some would call it careful. (Y/n) called it lucky. Incredibly lucky.

And then there was the case of Rory.

Rory was a young spirit. A young but troubled spirit. The boys had been contacted by a friend saying that Rory was becoming violent. The goal was to find what was tying the spirit to this plane and to send them to the other side.

It had all been going well. All things considered, anyway.

The only problem was time. There was this terrifying ticking clock between the trio knowing about the case and the risk of Rory attempting to hurt someone.

(Y/n) had only been there to help find what had been keeping Rory tied to this plane.

It had been going fine. Absolutely fine.

And then, (Y/n) lost control.

There was an intense moment where Edwin and Charles ended up being thrown in different directions. (Y/n) had tried to help. To get the spirit to stop for just long enough for the detectives to recover.

It didn't work.

Something else had overwhelmed (Y/n)'s efforts.

Whatever it had been had hit the spirit straight on. It had angered it... a lot. It ran at a terrified and confused (Y/n), causing the young witch to hit the ground, the scrape of the road below them causing a hiss to escape.

"(Y/n)!" Charles ran over first. "You alright?"

(Y/n) nodded as they pushed themselves up.

"What was that," Edwin asked as he walked over. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) said quietly. "It just... It just happened."

"It was reckless! You could have gotten yourself hurt and now we have to worry about the spirit being angry enough to hurt someone else!"

"Edwin-" Charles tried to get his friend to relax.

"What is wrong with you?" Edwin snapped before Charles could even try to stop him from asking.

"I... I don't know," (Y/n) murmured. "I don't know."

"Maybe it's best if you removed yourself from this case."

"Edwin!" Charles scolded.

"They're a risk!" Edwin insisted.

"He's right," (Y/n) turned to Charles. "I'll go home. Good luck."

Charles followed (Y/n) down the street. (Y/n)'s car sat alone on the street. Not much in terms of subtlety, but (Y/n) also hadn't been graced with the ability of travelling by mirror.

"(Y/n)," Charles said as he jogged to keep up with their quick steps. "Will you wait for a second?"

"Go back to the case, Charles," (Y/n) replied, not even looking at him.

"No," he stepped in front of them, attempting to block the path to the car. "Not until I know you're alright."

"I'm fine," (Y/n) insisted. "Edwin's right."

"No, he's not," he shook his head.

"Yes, he is. I am a risk. I always have been. I've hidden it well, but this was bound to happen at some point."

"What," he asked.

"A long time ago, when I was still with my family, I had issues like that happen all the time," (Y/n) explained. "I would... Something would overwhelm me, and I'd end up doing something dangerous or destructive. No one ever helped me with it. They expected me to sort it out on my own. And then... I hurt someone. Someone I cared about. I... I ended up being forced to leave. I still never truly learned to control anything. Tonight was proof of that!"

"We can help you-"

"That's not your job!" (Y/n) ran their hands over their face. "It's not worth the risk. I could get someone hurt, I could get myself, I could put you both in danger- none of it is worth it!"

"That's not your choice to make," Charles replied. "Any risk or danger is fine with me. I'm not leaving you alone, (Y/n)."

"You should."

(Y/n) moved around him and got in the car. Charles stepped back and watched the car drive off. He turned to see that Edwin had watched the interaction. Charles glared at him.

"It's for the best-"

"Let's just finish the case," Charles muttered, cutting Edwin off.

The case went by slowly and tensely. Charles was gruffer than Edwin had ever seen him. And Edwin had no right to question him about it. It was his comment that had caused this tension and anger. How was he meant to poke at it as if he had no idea what was going on inside the head of his best friend?

Charles didn't stick around the office once the case was done. Instead, he immediately went to the mirror, climbing through to try and see (Y/n) as soon as possible.

He ended up walking into (Y/n)'s room. He was somewhat expecting them to be there.

"(Y/n)!" Charles called out as he walked through the doorway. He stopped for a moment at the chaos that had taken over the living room.

It had been clear that some kind of fight had broken out. Between whom or what, Charles had no real idea. There were smaller objects thrown, furniture shifted, garbage scattered.

"(Y/n)," Charles called again as he walked around some of the mess. And then, he saw (Y/n) lying on the floor on the far side of the sofa. "(Y/n)!"

He ran over, rolling them on their back. They seemed to be breathing, but they were completely non-responsive.

"Shit!"

He shifted and carried (Y/n) to their room, leaving them on top of the bed's covers before he ran back through the mirror.

"Edwin!" Charles shouted even though Edwin was in the same room as him. "Something's wrong with (Y/n). I... I went to check on them and they were unconscious, and their living room was just destroyed. I don't know what happened."

"They're alive?"

"For now!"

"Come on," Edwin pushed Charles toward the mirror again.

Edwin let out a sigh as he walked over to (Y/n). He carefully lifted their eyelid to see if their eyes were responsive. However, all that was there was complete redness that had taken over. As if the eye had been filled with blood, but none of it was running out or swelling.

"Witchcraft," Edwin muttered. "I think I've read about this. Give me a moment to find the book in the office."

"(Y/n) was attacked by a witch?" Charles asked. Edwin was already through the mirror.

It was a suffocating matter of minutes before Edwin made it back to (Y/n)'s place.

"What is it?"

"If I am correct, then (Y/n) is currently trapped in a dream-like state," Edwin explained. "This dream-like state is keeping (Y/n) in a state of calmness while their brain slowly swells and presses against the skull. If we do not cure it fast enough, the swelling will kill them."

"How do we cure it?"

"We have to find a way to delicately wake (Y/n) from their dream-state. There is a cure that we can make, but it will take time."

"Is there another way? Something faster?"

"In theory," Edwin relented. "One of us could possess them and find a way to manually ease them out of the dream. The cure is our best option. Less risk."

"We don't have the time! We don't know how long (Y/n)'s been like this!"

"Charles, if either one of us chooses to possess them, then we set off alarms in the afterlife. We cannot take this risk."

Charles clenched his jaw.

"I will go get the cure started. Keep an eye on (Y/n)."

Charles did try to listen. He stood by and made sure that (Y/n) was breathing. He made sure that they were comfortable and that they were not suffering too immensely.

But then, he panicked.

He saw (Y/n)'s breaths becoming shallower and shallower. He heard nothing from Edwin. He was too worried to think of the consequences of his actions critically in any capacity.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was in a field.

He did a circle, trying to find some sign of something or someone. This was (Y/n)'s dream after all. They had to be there somewhere.

He saw something in the distance.

Approaching it, Charles could see a clearly outlined garden with a wooden fence around it. On one end was a gate, on the other end a cabin. A small cabin. The garden was beautiful. Full of flowers in full bloom with a swinging bench seat.

Charles almost chuckled at the vision. Something felt so fitting about something so peaceful being what (Y/n) pictured in a dream. Almost as far from their current life as they could get.

(Y/n) walked out of the cabin a moment later. Their clothes matched the garden. Soft, almost pastel colors. Very perfect, very organized.

He stepped forward, going to get their attention but stopped when he saw himself walking out of the cabin soon after. Well, some dream version of him. The other version of him was dressed exactly the same as he was, but it wasn't him. It couldn't have been him.

He watched as this alternate version of him pulled (Y/n) closer and kissed their head. The pair walked to the swinging bench seat, sitting together. (Y/n) relaxed into the fake Charles's side.

The view made the real Charles freeze where he was.

It felt wrong. Invasive.

He had kept his feelings private for as long as he had known (Y/n). He had been convinced that whatever connection the pair of them had was going to stay stuck in whatever form it was already in. Seeing this was a sign of something different. And he didn't know how to feel about that.

"(Y/n)!" he called from where he stood.

(Y/n) seemed to hear something. They paused and looked around but didn't seem to notice Charles. He could've sworn that they looked directly at him, but their eyes seemed to go right through him. As if he was never there.

(Y/n) leaned back into the seat, smiling as the fake Charles laid a kiss on their cheek as they did so.

The real Charles continued walking forward. He tried to think of a way to "delicately" get (Y/n) out of the dream.

"(Y/n)," he repeated, now standing just outside the gate.

Again, (Y/n) looked around but couldn't seem to spot him and was pulled back into the fake Charles's side.

He opened the gate and walked inside.

Neither (Y/n) nor the fake Charles seemed to acknowledge him in the slightest.

"(Y/n)," he said yet again.

(Y/n) again seemed surprised to hear anything, sitting up straight and going to look around until their eyes landed on Charles. They froze, eyes going wide at the sight of him.

"Hi," he grinned.

(Y/n) looked between him and the fake Charles, who was only looking at (Y/n).

"I'm sorry but I need you to come with me," Charles pressed, holding out his hand.

"What," they asked. "Sorry, but there are two of you. What's going on?"

"That's not me," he explained. "I... I don't know what he is, but he's not me."

(Y/n) stood up, stepping away from the bench. Once they were a few steps away from the real and fake Charles, they turned to look at them. The fake Charles didn't move, as if he were simply a mannequin that had to be moved around. He was staring at the space beside him as if (Y/n) was still there.

"You're in a dream," the real Charles explained. "This whole thing is fake."

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face.

"Do you remember how you got here at all," he asked.

"Yeah, I... I...," they trailed off, finding a blank space where some kind of memory definitely should have been.

"You were attacked," he continued. "Another witch found you and attacked you. You aren't standing outside some cabin in a field. You're lying in bed, unconscious."

There was a long pause before (Y/n) spoke up again, "I remember... I remember getting home. I remember someone being in my living room. It was an old friend..."

"You don't have to explain," Charles stopped them. He drew enough of a conclusion from those few sentences. It was some connection to whoever (Y/n) had hurt. Frankly, he didn't care about that. "We need to go."

He held his hand out to them. They finally took it.

He led them back to the gate to the garden. He didn't have any proof that this plan would work, but he didn't have anything else to go on. He just wanted to make sure (Y/n) had a chance at being okay.

Once (Y/n) stepped through the gate, it felt as if Charles was thrown out of (Y/n)'s mind. Like some explosion had happened.

Charles blinked a few times and spun around as he found himself back in (Y/n)'s room.

He heard (Y/n) grumbling. He grinned.

"Hey," he said quietly, going to sit next to them. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess," (Y/n) muttered. "My head hurts."

"I'll grab some water-"

"Wait, wait," (Y/n) reached for him as he stood up. He somehow managed to get halfway to the door by the time (Y/n) said anything. "I was... I was stuck in my head."

"And now, you're out."

"You... You popped up. You showed up there. You helped me."

"Yup."

"How?"

He paused for a moment.

"Charles..."

"I... possessed you."

(Y/n) sighed, standing up and placing their head in their hands. "Charles."

"It was to save you-"

"Oh my god!"

"I was trying to help-"

"You possessed me!"

"You need to relax-"

"No!" (Y/n) slapped Charles's hands away as he tried to guide them back to bed. "You possessed me!"

"I know that it's an invasion and it probably feels like you had some privacy violated-"

"My privacy isn't my concern," (Y/n) cut him off. "My concern is that you and Edwin have told me over and over again that possessing people sets off alarms in the afterlife. I don't care how close to death I am; you don't get to take that kind of risk for me."

"That's not just your choice," Charles replied. "I told you before, any risk that I take is my choice. I just saved your life!"

(Y/n) ran their hands over their face as they walked to the window. It was dark out. The moon perched itself perfectly to shine into (Y/n)'s room. There had been countless nights where (Y/n) spent ages just staring up at the sky, somehow feeling less alone when it was in sight.

(Y/n) could hear Charles walking to the window. They saw him out of the corner of their eye.

"I would do it again," he admitted. "No matter how much danger I put myself in. I'll do what I have to in order to save you."

"Why?"

"Because if you died, you wouldn't know how to get away from Death. I'd never see you again," Charles turned to (Y/n), who was still staring out the window. "I can run for eternity. I can escape anything and anyone. And I would do that as long as I knew you were at the end of whatever path I was running. I can't risk not seeing you again. You... You mean too much to me."

Finally, (Y/n) looked over at him.

"I... I love you, (Y/n)," he murmured.

(Y/n) loved him back. They knew that. They had for a long time now. But they couldn't bring themself to say it out loud. It was strange. Charles had seen the dream that (Y/n) had been stuck in. Surely, he knew how (Y/n) felt. So why could they still not admit it to him? Maybe it was they were merely scared of confessing it to themself.

"I'm sorry," Charles said after a few moments of silence. "I shouldn't have said that-"

Charles was cut off when (Y/n) stepped over and kissed him. It was as awkward as one would assume that it would be. It wasn't some perfect, fairytale-like kiss. It was an awkward kiss shared between a person who hadn't been kissed in decades and another who had never been kissed before. And it was short. It lasted a matter of moments before (Y/n) pulled back again. They stared at Charles with wide eyes, as if they had been just as surprised by their actions as he was.

He slowly grinned at them.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, face becoming warm. "We should... We should get Edwin-"

"In a minute," he muttered.

"Charles-"

He leaned over and kissed them again. When he pulled back, there was a smug smile on his face. "You haven't said it back yet."

"What- oh," (Y/n) felt their face get even warmer as they realized what he meant. "I love you too."

It was quiet. As if it was still some kind of secret that no one other than Charles was allowed to know. Maybe (Y/n) meant for it to be that way.

It was then that Edwin climbed back through the mirror with some jars cradled in his arms.

"Alright, I found some things in the office that should be able to help- oh," Edwin muttered as he saw (Y/n) standing there. "You went through with the possession, I see... Even though I told you not to."

"I panicked," Charles explained.

"I already told him off for it," (Y/n) added.

"I think that (Y/n) should stay at the office for a while. Until we know there's not a threat."

Edwin looked between the pair. "Very well."

"I'll meet you guys there," (Y/n) promised.

(Y/n) felt a kiss get pressed to their head before Charles stepped away. They looked at Edwin, who gave them a shocked look in return.

"Well... I'll see you in a bit," (Y/n) said, trying to ignore the look that they had received.

The ghost boys went to the nearest mirror and climbed through. (Y/n) could hear the two of them muttering to each other. It was going to be a very long visit, (Y/n) could tell.

But (Y/n) couldn't find it in themself to mind much.

It was all worth it to be able to still hear them at all.

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Everything - @geeksareunique

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[alissa3000]

He’s actually so fine like I can’t- the smirk???

[ksjb3rry]

“You can’t go around telling people ghosts are real. They’ll think you’re insane, which, maybe you are, but they’ll make things messy”.

— Edwin Payne, Dead Boy Detectives

⪩͜⊹͜⪨ ݁ ִ  ۫ ꔵ 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗯𝘆 @𝗸𝘀𝗷𝗯𝟯𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗿 ꒰ 🖋️ ꒱ ༉

🪦:: 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗼 𝘄 𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 ! ༄ ⌇ ⚗️

[moonyswritinq]

runs in the family — platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gn reader

❝ RUNS IN THE FAMILY ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Edwin had been dead for decades and you had wandered the earth as a ghost in search for him. Who would have thought that you would find him in a small town in America, just strolling down the street?

PAIRING ➢ platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ mentions of death, kind of flirty reader, not much more warning needed than that, takes place end of chapter three, so spoilers?? not beta read

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.7 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ seeing as the reader is written as a sibling to Edwin it is implied they are biologically related and therefore caucasian. But since I have not specified anything the reader could just as well be adopted and of another ethnicity, so I leave it up to be your choice.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

It had been a hundred years.

A century had gone by since you died. And still you had not managed to finish your business in order to move on to the afterlife. How could you? When your older brother had mysteriously gone missing from his boarding school, simply presumed dead, and labeled as ‘an act of God’ and nothing else had happened. No one made inquiries. No one bothered to try to do him justice.

No one cared.

And it infuriated you. So much to the point of taking up the quest of finding him yourself. But no one knew anything, nor cared to tell you anything, so you were unable to find anything worthy of interest. Edwin simply did not matter to anyone besides you—even your parents were frustratingly unhelpful. It broke your heart. You didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t care about its people. Luckily, you didn’t have to for long.

It happened a year after you graduated from high school, making you three years older than the age Edwin  had been when he disappeared. As soon as you’d completed school you had gotten out of your conservative town, opting to travel to London instead to settle down there. The aftermath of the war had just calmed down and you thought you could get a new start. You hadn’t entirely left the business of Edwin behind you, but knowing there was nothing more you could do for him settled your guilt slightly.

When you had finally started getting used to the idea of Edwin actually being gone and of the possibility of moving on with your life, you died. A simple case of wrong place, wrong time in a robbery. And you reckoned some part of you weren’t completely ready to let go of Edwin because you had woken up again, as a ghost.

It was strange at first, feeling nothing but still being there, invisible to everyone but yourself. And it hadn’t hurt much—you had died immediately.

What should have been a tragedy left you feeling nothing but relief. You were finally free from the world’s boundaries and rules and the idiotic people that wouldn’t help your brother. Then being able to travel anywhere you wanted, speak to other dead people, and uncover all the supernatural entities that had been hiding under your nose your whole living life was more than you could have wished for. Was it possible Edwin could also be somewhere? Wandering around as a ghost, the same as you?

The thought was too good to even hope to be true. As it turns out, it was.

You visited all the places Edwin had been or he had talked about going to or anywhere you could have imagined his ghost to have gone. But there were no signs of him—at least no signs that you could find. No one had any information about your brother. It almost left you feeling like how you had when you were alive. Your world had gone from the bright colours of hope back to the dull monochromaticity that your life had been.

For years you had wandered the planet, going from country to country, adapting to the changing years and humanity’s new technology. It interested you to figure out the new things that were invented and to keep up with the modern world—not to talk about all the different ghosts, people, and other supernatural beings you met. While it was nice to travel around without a clear goal, your mind was constantly stuck on the thought of your brother being alone somewhere.

You needn’t have worried though, you realised, when you had found yourself in the small town of Port Townshend, walking down the street and seeing a very familiar face. Right across the road, a figure clad in a brown coat was walking with an all too rigid posture and pursing his lips at the teenagers surrounding him. You were too stunned to speak, your tongue felt as if it were locked, unable to voice any of the jumble of thoughts currently bouncing through your mind.

“Edwin?” you croaked, voice strained as it fought against the constricting of your throat. You hurriedly ran to cross the road, narrowly missing a car. It wouldn’t have hurt, but habits die hard—even if it had been a hundred years since you were alive. And so you let out a loud curse, swivelling out of its path, “Oh, bloody hell!”

When you turned to continue to the other side of the street you already found a familiar pair of eyes locked onto yours. Edwin had stopped completely in his path and with his mouth agape, arms hanging by his side. You couldn’t fight the grin that made its way to your face and broke out in a run, crashing into his frame with a hug.

“Wha—” he stumbled, before embracing you back and nestling his face into your shoulder.

It felt as if he would never let you go by the grip he had on you—and you couldn’t blame him. It had been way too long since you had hugged him like this and you couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped you. It also felt weird hugging another ghost—it was like he was there and he wasn’t, but you could feel his presence in a way you couldn’t when you touched the living.

“It’s you,” you whispered, pulling away to grab him by the shoulders and really take him in. “It’s really you.”

Edwin looked just like you had remembered him to have looked when he disappeared. The same eyes, with which he always sent glares your way, and the same smile he hid in the corner of his lips by turning away from you, although it shone through at you then as a grin. He couldn’t help it, and neither could you.

“I—I never thought I would see you again,” he said.

You scoffed. “As if you could get rid of me that easily.” Then your eyes softened. “Though you scared me half to death.”

“More than half, it would seem,” he said, looking you up and down. “What are you still doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, a smile on your lips despite your soft tone. “You were my unfinished business.”

You went in for another hug with a chuckle, holding him even tighter as if he would disappear if you didn’t. All that worrying, all that searching, all that trouble you had gone through to find your brother and it was all finally worth it. The thought made you almost want to cry—almost. You pulled away then for real, letting the both of you go back to your regular composure as a relaxed grin settled against your lips and Edwin’s went back to hiding in the corner of his lips.

That was when you noticed the questioning stares from his three friends. They were all glancing back and forth between you in clear confusion. 

“Sorry, did everyone just see what I saw?” questioned the dark-haired girl with a frown, gesturing between the two of you. “Who are you?”

You smiled at her. “Forgive me for being rude. I forgot myself for a second,” you said with a glance at Edwin. “I’m y/n, Edwin’s sibling.”

The three of them stared in astonishment upon hearing the words uttered, again looking between you two.

“I see the resemblance now that you mention it,” said the tall boy.

You shot him a playful smile. “I’m clearly the better sibling, though.”

“As if,” scoffed Edwin and tugged at his cuff. “At least I am older.”

You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. “Don’t know if that is actually true, anymore. I was alive longer than you were.”

“What? No.” He looked affronted at your words. “My birth was before yours and I am thus older than you.”

The boy next to him cleared his throat with a pointed glance. Edwin resumed to his usual composure, a curtain falling over his features as his bickering spirit died out. You let out a snicker, glancing between the four of them.

“You gonna introduce me to your handsome friends, Edwin?” you asked with a grin, eyeing the tall boy specifically.

Edwin glared at you. “Don’t,” he spit out, warning lacing through his tone. When you held up your hands in surrender he turned to his friends, gesturing to them all in turn with their names. “Y/n, this is Charles, Niko and Crystal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niko’s soft voice said, hopping forward to give you a hug.

It caught you slightly off guard, but it was welcomed even though you couldn’t feel it as well as you could feel Edwin’s ghost hug. Crystal gave you a hesitant hand to shake and you took it enthusiastically with a smile. She smiled then, apparently less apprehensive. Charles also thrust out a hand along with a charming smirk.

“Any sibling of Edwin must be brills,” he said. “Also a ghost, by the way.”

You took his hand with an appreciative nod. “Did you hear that, Edwin? I’m brills,” you said and looked over your shoulder.

By doing so, you didn’t miss the soft gaze Edwin was looking at Charles with and nodded to yourself, smiling coyly. While you had learnt to adapt to the modern times, and even back then had always been quite open about yourself, Edwin was a shyer and more private person. You would let him work it out by himself.

“You know, I missed your miserable face,” you remarked, turning to nudge him with your elbow. “I also think we have a lot to catch up on, Edwin.” 

“I would say that is quite correct. We will take care of that, later,” he nodded in his stilted way. Weird as it was, you had missed his gestures.

When the four of them turned to keep walking, Niko suddenly let out a loud gasp. “There’s Monty, our new friend,” she exclaimed.

You turned to look where she was gesturing and saw a very handsome boy looking up when hearing his name. He smiled easily at the five of you and stood up from the bench he had been sitting on with a few books in hand. The boy, Monty, let out what sounded like a nervous chuckle while glancing between the group, definitely noting the closeness between you and Edwin.

“Hey. Wow, quite the crew you got here.”

“So, he’s alive and he can see the boys?” asked Crystal.

“Oh, he can definitely see Edwin,” replied Niko. You saw Monty smile at Edwin and turned to your brother with a questioning glance. He only shrugged.

When you turned back, you found Monty was already staring at you. His eyes were dark and thoughtful, jumping from your face to your clothes and your boots and your frame and your hair and your smirk—which spread even wider. His mouth opened in a silent gasp as he took in the sight of you. You could feel your lifeless cheeks warm with blood—if they could do that—and let your gaze skirt away nervously.

“Oh, hi, I, uh, don’t believe I have seen you before.” Monty smiled sheepishly at you and his voice was warm and sweet. “I feel, uh, like I would have remembered a face like yours.”

His face got redder the longer he talked and the more he tripped over his words. It was weirdly endearing and you smiled at him as his gaze jumped between you and Edwin.

“Edwin’s my brother,” you said. “I’m y/n. Also a ghost.”

“Charmed.” Monty’s grin grew wider. “I suppose good looks run in the family.”

You saw Edwin shift uneasily out of the corner of your eye and smiled at him. Monty’s unashamedly flirting was clearly not something Edwin was entirely ready for yet, but it only made the whole thing more amusing. And you couldn’t ignore the playful smirk Monty was giving you nor the glint in his eye.

“And I’m Charles. Nice to meet you, mate,” interrupted the other ghost, his own charming smile fixed on his lips, and extended a hand for Monty to take. “Any pal of Edwin’s is aces in my book.”

Monty’s lips pursed. “Yeah, sorry, hands are full,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and stand-offish.

He moved past you, closer to Edwin, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you. You smiled to yourself as you turned to the other three, looking back at Monty.

“I was polite, wasn’t I?” asked Charles. His voice sounded much smaller, almost insecure.

“Yeah, you did good,” replied Crystal and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leant closer to him. “Don’t take it personal just ‘cause you aren’t pretty enough to earn Monty’s kindness.”

Charles turned to you, affronted, and glared at your cheeky smile. “Oi, hurtful. I’m very pretty, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, glancing up at him. “And don’t you worry, Edwin knows it too.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You only shrugged, glancing back at your brother and Monty. You saw Edwin take the book from him, completely oblivious to the way his gaze was fixed on him, and Niko was unashamedly listening in on their conversation. You took the opportunity to study Monty’s feature’s more carefully, gazing at the ways his lips lifted ever so slightly, and how his eyes suddenly jumped to yours. Immediately, you looked away in shame at being caught staring at him and you were sure to be blushing if you were still capable of it. When you dared look back at him his eyes were yet again on Edwin, but his smirk a bit wider.

“Hey.” You looked to Charles again, nudging him in the side. “If Edwin doesn’t know, though, at least I do.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his grin widen as his eyes fixed on you. That was when Edwin glanced past Monty, meeting your eye briefly before flickering over to Charles. You noticed him hesitate in his reply to Monty and furrowed your brows. It wasn’t like your brother to be careful about his words. Crystal seemed to know what he was thinking as she suddenly brought her hands together.

“Ah, well,” she began, sighing with what sounded like very bad conviction, ”Axe-murder, suicide Groundhog Day drained me, so, uh… I’m gonna head up.”

You shot her a questioning glance but decided against asking her about it. Whatever Edwin and his group had been up to you had more than enough time to figure out. Now that you had found him, there was no chance you were letting him go.

Niko nodded at Crystal’s words, still caught up with whatever Edwin and Monty were speaking about. “Okay, I’ll be up soon,” she said.

Crystal sighed and went over to the other girl, taking ahold of her arm and dragging her away from the boys. You shot a questioning glance at Edwin, but he just nodded for you to go without him. Briefly, you met Monty’s gaze as well and were almost pinned to the spot by his smile before he turned back to your brother. You swallowed and made to walk away when you noticed Charles was still stuck to the same spot, his gaze pinned to Edwin.

“Come on, mate, let’s go.”

He scoffed but let himself be guided away to follow the other two. You heard the traces of Edwin and Monty’s conversation follow behind you, their voices floating through the air. Monty’s was melodic and it made you sigh at the sound of it.

“He’s very cute, isn’t he?” you asked Charles, nudging his side with your elbow.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

You weren’t sure you were talking about the same person.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear

[yinora-evergreen]

Could you do a Dead Boy Detectives Cat King x reader Payne, Edwin’s sibling who is a ghost after a freak accident and helps them out. They always put the boys needs above their own. After the first Cat King meeting they get a little jealous of their brother but they know it’s wrong. Of course Monty and the others would like Edwin.

Pairing: Thomas "the Cat King" x gn! ghost! Payne! reader, mild implied Monty x reader if you squint, Edwin Payne x sibling! reader

a/n: tysm for this request! i hope it is to your liking and i hope it's not too ooc<3

warnings: jealous reader, it's implied that reader could be interested in Monty, Charles and Crystal [Cat King talks about which form he should take, inspired by the scene in the show when he turns into Monty and Charles to try and seduce Edwin], i wasn't sure whether these warnings were necesarry but i added them anyway just incase

You had been part of the dead boy detectives agency for a while, ever since you had found your brother Edwin again, you stayed by his side, and ofcourse Charles's too.

you aways helped out, kept them safe the best you could. even when you weren't in a state to do so.

there were uncountable times when you took the hit instead of them, physically and mentally.

you helped calm down ghosts who were lost, helped along with cases to make sure everything went according to plan, steped infront of them if someone tried to attack with an iron weapon, no matter how bad it hurt.

ofcourse, Edwin greatly appreciated it, and yet somehow you feel underappreciated.

they never changed the name, even though you joined, they were the ones people, well, ghosts looked for.

it was always "where are the two boys we were told about" and never "aren't you one of the dead boy detectives?"

when Crystal joined, she didn't seem very fond of you at first, which you honestly didn't mind too much.

could you blame her? she got her memories stolen by her demon ex and now she has no idea where she's supposed to be, where her home is.

when the four of you went to Port Townsend you thought little of it.

it was just one quick little case, right?

wrong.

because of your brother Edwin using a simple spell on a cat that you guys got stuck here.

when you first met the Cat King, you were intrigued to say the least.

maybe it was his way of talking, maybe it was those eyes that captivated you, whatever it was, you felt drawn to him.

but ofcourse, he only looked at your brother.

was it normal to feel jealous like that? you love your brother dearly, you shouldn't want to take something like that from him, right?

right?

when you met Monty, you thought he was pretty cute.

not your exact type, but cute.

but ofcourse, yet again, Edwin was the star of the show.

eventually Monty wanted to hang out with you too, but it was after the third time of him asking to hang out that you found out the only true reason was so he would have an excuse to see Edwin when walking you 'home', which really pissed you off.

so you left, mumbling something about just wanting to take a walk alone for a moment.

much to your luck, they accepted it without another thought.

as you walk, you can't help but notice the amount of cats you see everywhere.

Edwin was supposed to count them all, right?

maybe you could help by counting aswell, and telling Edwin later on how many you saw.

but you were too upset to really do that, so you just kept walking.

until you notice that one of the cats seems to be following you, no matter how many times you turn a corner, or stop for a moment, it seemed to follow your every move.

up untill a specific part, near the woods.

you thought it finally stopped following you, untill you turned around to see none other than the Cat King standing there.

that startled you, for some reason you didn't exactly expect it, and you nearly tripped if he didn't catch you.

"why are you here? why did you follow me?" you instantly question him, which seems to surprise him atleast a little.

"woah, calm down, i wasn't following you, i was just... taking a stroll... okay no i was totally following you" he admits.

"has Edwin counted all the cats yet?" you roll your eyes.

"no, obviously not, he would've gone to find you if he did" you cross your arms and look away from him.

why did he have to look so charming?

you thought he'd leave, but he didn't.

why was he still staring at you?

"you know, i only pay so much attention to him because of his spell on one of my dear cats, you should remember that"

"why would i care who you give your stupid attention to" you practically snarl, though he doesn't seem to be bothered by your tone.

"now, now, no need to feel so attacked. i just want to know, what is it that has gotten you in such a sour mood" he nearly sounds like he cares.

nearly.

"nothing, i just wanted to take a walk" you lie, hoping he'd just leave you alone.

"right, lets try that again, hm?"

he swipes his thumb over your mouth, and much to your surprise you spill everything that you've been keeping quiet about.

"it's just that, i really do love my brother, truly, but sometimes i wish he wouldn't be the one getting all the attention, like, you gave him all your attention back when you wanted to punish him for his 'crime' and Monty only wanted to hang out with me to get closer to him and i just wish that for once, just once, someone i'm interested in would actually see me too. Edwin and Charles, now Crystal too, always get so much credit for solving cases too, and yet i'm the one that keeps getting hurt, that keeps being the target, i always put them above me and ofcourse i'm not greedy about getting attention or gratefullness but does it really hurt that much to ask if i'm okay? if i'm okay with being the bait when it's necesarry? if i'm okay with being ready to face death and go to the afterlife so she'll leave them alone? is it too much to ask for just a little care that's more than just some simple praise?" you ramble on for a bit, barely noticing the small, sypathetic smile on his face.

"now, now, darling, that is quite a lot of emotion, huh?"

"oh fuck off" you snap back, the tingling feeling of the spell he used to make you tell him fading as quick as it came.

"i see you, i have for a while" he admits.

"do you have any idea how hard it is to focus on being intimidating and giving your brother his punishment for using a spell against one of my cats when you're right next to him, all pretty and enticing" he drawls out as if he's a kid who's throwing a tantrum about not getting icecream.

"i mean seriously, have you seen yourself?"

"not exactly, i don't have a reflection as a ghost" you mumble, trying to ignore the growing heat on your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes.

"tell me, what form should i take to entice you to... stay with me, atleast for the night? Monty? Charles? Crystal? i can be whoever you want me to be, my dear [name]" he says as he takes the respective forms of each person he lists, and you notice how even though he practically shape-shifts, one thing always stays the same: those eyes you've grown to love.

"just be you" you murmur, daring to take a step closer to him, to which he subtly licks his lips.

it seems as though he's about to say something, but then he kisses you instead, taking a hold on your waist, he seems to be more gentle than you expected, and you kiss him back.

if someone told you that this kiss lasted for hours, you would've believed them.

it felt as if you got that peacefull after-life that you were promised, without ever leaving behind those you care about.

reluctantly, you both pull away.

"can i stay with you tonight, then?" you mutter quietly.

the Cat King nods, taking your hand, ready to lead you to his abode.

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

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (2)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 3K

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, attempted murder?

PART 2 ✧˖°.

The ground was a soothing anchor for your rampant thoughts which all seemed to recede as you laid on the plush grass, its touch on your skin soothing. The stars reflected in your eyes, spanning as far as the eye could see, only obstructed by the mountain ranges surrounding you, capped with ice that shone under the twinkling night sky. The breeze kissed your cheeks and rustled the leaves on the trees that lined the lake gurgling few feet away from you, the sound of ripples caused by the breeze a tranquil sound in your ears. If you weren't already dreaming you would have succumbed to a peaceful slumber long ago. But as a matter of fact you were, and it was no mistaking that, provided you always dreamt of this scenic place. Regardless of the time of the day or the night, you always found yourself here, in midst of what you could only call 'a slice of heaven'. You buried your fingers in the grass, exhaling a deep breath of contentment and let your eyelids droop down, embracing the sound of the howling wind muffled by the river's constant churning. Hours passed by and the dark slowly began to fade away, the sky preparing itself for sunrise. Soon it would be time for you to wake up, you thought dismally. You felt a gaze on you and your eyes opened to catch a blur of darkness staring at you but it only remained a blur because when you blinked it was gone. 'Strange,' you mused to yourself. No one had ever crossed your path here. From the beginning of time, or well the beginning of the past four years when you had stumbled across the agency, you had always been here alone. Just as you began convincing yourself that it was just a trick played by the light, your alarm rang throughout the vast expanse. 

"Ugh," you groaned as you slammed the alarm clock, probably fracturing it a bit.

But it was of no use as the awfully cheery voice of Charles greeted your ears, "Wakey wakey sunshine, the day is new."

He opened the blinds to your window and piercing sunlight entered your eyes.

"Mate are you trying to blind me?" You grumbled in your pillow, turning your head in the other direction. 

"Come on! Wake up," Charles pulled your blanket away.

You opened one eye and squinted at your phone screen, "It is 7 in the morning there is absolutely no reason for any man or ghost to be happy and have that amount of energy at this hour.”

"The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. It's the best time to live life.”

"Yeah coming from a ghost.”

Your back creaked under the weight of Charles' body as he tried to annoy you into getting up by imparting physical pain. 

"Get off me, you creature!" You mindlessly grabbed his face with your nails but he pinned your arms behind your back.

You tried to wiggle your way free but in vain, "Get. Off. Me."

"Only if you get up as soon as I release you.”

Rendered optionless you huffed, "fine you arse.”

Charles freed his hold on you and you sat up, rubbing your eyes hoping to rid the exhaustion away. 

"Good morning," Charles smiled. 

"Morning," you yawned. 

"Breakfast is getting cold!" Edwin's voice boomed through your apartment. 

"Be right there," you called back. 

You stepped down from your bed and made your way to the bathroom when you halted in your tracks, your reflection peered at you, an enraged expression on its face. Your t-shirt was soiled with blood, your favourite t-shirt. You had almost forgotten about that and you sent a 'I will butcher you alive' actually more like 'I will butcher your ghost' look in Charles' direction who seemed to discern it very well because he wasted not a second in dashing out of your room.

Your coffee mug stared at you, your hands enclosed around it with their initial purpose of warming themselves made useless with your coffee now cold. The contents swirled inside, undissolved sugar twinkling amidst the dark liquid, reminding you of your dream and the odd addition to it last night.

"You okay?" Edwin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine."

"So is the coffee that bad?"

"Eh it’s passable," you scrunched your nose. 

"Edwin I for one think it surpasses excellence," Charles piped in.

"Calm down dude he is not handing out golden stars.”

Charles' only reply was a scowl.

"Thankyou Charles,” Edwin placed his hand on the brunette ghost beside him. 

"Get a room." It was your turn to scowl, earning looks from both of them.

You gulped your coffee down and collected the utensils to deposit them in the sink while the boys pushed the chairs back and rearranged the furniture slightly for what was to follow. 

"I guess we are ready," Edwin spoke and you used that as a cue to open the doors.

"And so we begin.” 

The clicking of your pen echoed in the room. You were half in your chair, while your upper half was rested against the table, eyes boring into the ceiling. 

"Since when did ghosts become so lame?" Charles spoke from his place, legs crossed on the table, touching your head and an apple and a knife in his hand.

It was 4 hours since you opened the gates to the ghosts to hear out their woes and help them cross into a peaceful afterlife. But none of them had presented a case worth pursuing, for all you three wanted more than aiding the distressed was an adventure, an adrenaline rush, gears put to work inside the brain. Yet today every case was solved by asking a few more questions, a remedy supplied by Edward's intellectual mind or some probing by you. After all ghosts trusted you. 

"Since uh you died," you quipped.

But just as Charles opened his mouth to use whatever comeback he had thought of, the doors opened once again with such gusto that it sent the papers on the table flying.

"You have to help me,” A girl's voice pleaded.

"So this is it," you muttered to your ghost buddies who were currently wearing skins of two police officials as you all watched the scene on the opposite side of the street. 

People in uniform bustled about the scene of the crime which they had ruled a 'suicide'. The parents of the girl who had dropped from the roof were huddled in a corner, fresh tears flowing down their already tear stained faces as her corpse was put into a body bag. Your heart weighed down under the sudden sadness enveloping it. The street was silent except the beeping emitting from the ambulance and police cars. The girl's ghost on the other hand was waiting at your place and you were so grateful for that decision, seeing her own body and her parents so broken would have devastated her.

"God it is horrible," Charles voiced aloud your thoughts.

"Come on Charles," Edwin said in a startling female voice. 

"God Charles why do you always have to make him a woman?"

"It suits him," he drawled.

"More like suits your fantasies huh?" 

You were met by Edwin's soft blow on your head, "ow sorry.”

"Ok Hazel, Charles and I will question the victim's parents and provide you with an opportunity to sneak inside. Search the building for any signs of a ghost and wait for us to join you. Be careful, she seemed pretty intent that she didn't commit suicide."

You were about to nod when you caught a glimpse of dark hair retreating behind the house as if you had caught them watching you. 

"Hazel?"

"Huh.” You looked up at Edwin. 

"Is the plan clear to you?" 

"Crystal."

Who was that guy? It eerily reminded you of the blur of darkness in your dream. You tucked your curiosity away for later and brought your focus on the case. It's more important right now.

"Hello?" you called out into the scaffolding. It seemed their house was going through renovation when the incident happened. You shuddered when the images of her parents popped up in your mind.

A clank of metal made you whip your head around. It was nothing, just a piece of construction metal had fallen down. The ground floor provided with no clues, no proof of anything paranormal so you approached the staircase leading upstairs. Sun shone bleakly through the crevices of the area of the house that was being reconstructed. You gripped the banister and began climbing. Wait, was that? Surely not? But as you neared the landing the unmistakable sound of whimpering reached you. They had the entire house cleared right?  No one was supposed to be here. Not someone living atleast. The thud of your boots on the wooden floor quieted the whimpers. Should have worn sneakers, I knew it. 

Still you were determined to find the source of the whimpering and you called out into the silence again, "Hello? Is anyone there? I am here to help." 

No reply. You opened the door on your right and scanned the room but no presence was there. Who were you kidding, like luck is something you know.

As you were closing the door, you spotted a figure hunched on their knees in the corner of the room. Luck and you? That was something new. You made your way to them, to her you realised as the distance shortened between you two. 

"Hey, are you okay?" you spoke in a hushed tone, scared you would startle her. 

The girl, just a teenager, tilted her head up at you, her eyes widened, "You-you can see me?" She managed out.

She had the same auburn hair as the ghost at your apartment and the same dip in her nose.

"Are you a ghost?" She bit her lips.

"I can sweetheart and no I am very much alive, unfortunately."

You bent down to her level, "What are you doing here?"

Your soft tone was merely your politeness, giving her the illusion of choice when you knew she had no other option than to answer your question. 

Another whimper escaped her and she opened her mouth when Charles voice rumbled from downstairs, "Hazel?"

You turned your head away and called his name back, "I am up here!" 

But when you looked back, the girl was gone. You swiveled your head around trying to locate her but there was no sight of her. 

Footsteps grew louder until they reached you and Edwin's voice said, "It's messier than we imagined."

"Yeah?" you asked absentmindedly.

"Turns out the folks outside had two daughters. And guess what happened to the other?" Charles joined the conversation.

Both of them had shed their disguises.

"She died.”

"She die-" Edwin stopped midway.

"How do you know?" He perked his eyebrow.

"Because I think I just saw her.”

"What?" Both of them exclaimed in unison. 

"But how is that possible? She died 5 years ago." 

"Must be one hell of an unfinished business,” you shrugged.

"Isn't it weird that the sister never mentioned her? Like I don’t know about people but if I had a dead sibling who died in the same spot I did, I would atleast mention it," Charles reasoned. 

"God knows man.” You rubbed your forehead.

"Thanks but I do not.” 

You only rolled your eyes at his response, mind too occupied connecting the pieces. "We have to find the girl. She was just here."

"Seems the right course of action to do. Let's split up."

You both nodded in reply to Edwin and went your paths. You searched room after room without any result. 

You began your way back when you spotted him. "Edwin? Charles?" You called to the stoic figure at the end of the corridor. “Is that you?"

But the black robes, the wild mop of the darkest hair, and the air around him that seemed to tingle with his presence was reply enough for you. 

"Who are you?" The words left your lips.

But in the blink of an eye, same as in your dream, he vanished, leaving a befuddled you behind. What the fuck just happened?

You turned around only to be met by the suicide girl who actually did have a name. "Oh hi Aura. What-what are you doing here?"

"I am sorry, I just couldn't wait on my own, wondering-what-that I-"

"I get it.” You quelled her unnecessary rambling. "You can stay here with us and help us locate your sister." 

"My-my sister?" Her eyes widened in fear?

"Yes," you said hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell us about her?"

"It can't be. No no no-" she backed into a corner. 

"Aura?" you voice was laced with concern and caution.

"Hazel! You won't fucking believe this." Charles approached you, slightly out of breath and froze when he saw the auburn hair.

"Hazel- get away from her," he said sternly. 

Confusion must be evident on your face because he repeated his words. "Get away from her, she murdered her sister."

What?

"No no! She is lying!" the ghost screamed, "That prick is lying!"

Charles wasted no second in divulging into his backpack to procure shackles that could bind any ghost, except the one using them.

Before you could ask Aura the question yourself to confirm the truth, she lunged for you. You kicked her in the chest and ran forward but her hands clamped against your mouth, a cool metal blade pressed against the skin of your neck. Where the fuck did she get a knife from? Oh Charles' bloody apple.

"You use that on me, and I won't hesitate to have her join this ghost party."

"Aura," Charles warned. 

Her grip tightened and Charles faltered, "ok ok ok, here." He put the shackles back. "Just let her go."

"Stay there,” she ordered. 

"Please, just let her go," his voice quaked.

She retreated back, the knife still on your throat, towards the stairs. If only you could free your mouth from her grasp. Charles moved forward. 

"Don't you dare," she seethed.

She reached the stairs and you hoped she'd let you go now. But she grinned toothily and slashed her knife across your neck. A clank, a thud. But all you could process was the droplets of blood dripping down as you fell to the floor. Charles was beside you in two quick strides.

His tone was urgent, "are you okay?"

"To be honest I thought cutting your neck would be a much bloodier disaster.”

"It's because you didn't cut your fucking neck you idiot," he chuckled softly. 

But the blood? You brought your hands to your cheek and the blood smeared your fingers, it was just a scratch. 

"But how?" You sat up. 

"I have no freaking clue. It just happened. One second I thought you were going to die and the next-” He looked down where the stairs ended. 

Aura's body was lying on the ground. Unconscious. And there seemed to be...sand? around her. 

Your bones clunked against each other at the crushing embrace of Charles' hug. 

"Oh you sappy boy.” You ruffled his hair. 

He pulled back, his eyes weary with emotion. 

You took his hand. “I love you too idiot.” 

You both smiled at that. 

"Right I better shackle her incase you know, the maniac wakes up.”

"Sounds alright, I will go check up on Edwin.”

"He is on the roof with the little sister.”

You made your way up onto the roof. Edwin seemed to be talking gently with her, trying to coax out the details of her murder and her sister's. Right  you still had no idea who murdered Aura.

"Finally, what on Earth took you so lo-" Edwin's gaze fixated on your cheek. "What happened?"

"All sorted.”

Edwin accepted your answer hesitantly. Then said, "I am afraid I give up. She is all yours.”

You went to the scared teenager and asked her, "will you tell me what happened?"

"So let me just get this straight. Aura murdered her sister accidentally 5 years ago. And then her sister murdered her as revenge yesterday," Charles stated in disbelief.

"Precisely.”

"That's what I suppose healthy family relations look like. I am so envious," Charles said.

"Boy do they give greek mythology some competition," you added.

The three of you turned around, now a safe distance from Death's grasp and waited for her to reap the two souls. Soon, the air tickled with electricity, pronouncing her entrance. It strangely reminded you of the man in the corridor. It was always so surreal to see Death do her work. Blue light coated the roof in an ethereal glimmer as she took the scared soul perched on it to the sunless lands. She had accepted her flaws and fate and the price to be paid had lightened. The wings flew downwards where Aura was shackled and a surprising red painted the windows, perhaps the darkest shade you had witnessed till now. You knew her redemption wouldn't be pleasant but that seemed a tad extreme. The slight quiver in the boys beside you meant they thought the same. 

"That...was something." 

"Something might be an understatement," you spoke.

"Well job officially jobbed," Charles concluded.

You were tidying up your bed to make space for yourself, sleep a welcoming pull in your body. After a refreshing bath and some horrific birdshit Charles had cooked up that was meant to taste like potatoes according to him, you were ready to give in to your exhaustion. Your hair was still wet against your skin, the cool touch pleasing. You went to the mirror, taking some ointment in your fingers for your cheek and looked up to find a set of dark eyes on you in the mirror's glass. You whipped around, the tube falling to the floor and finally saw the mysterious stranger in full light. Black coat brushing the floor, hair equally black and eyes even darker, matching the night sky outside your window. 

His lips parted, "Hello Hazel."

A/N: i know there is a profound lack of dream atp but dw it has just started. and edwin and charles are aged up in this story to be in their early 20s. well technically they are decades old but even in their ghost form they are just not teenagers to me ahsk.

SERIES MASTERLIST✧˖°

[sincerelyverena]

pls pls pls charles x short!alive!reader? established relationship, maybe just some fluffy moments between the two?

⟡⁺ THE GHOST OF YOU

tysm for the req, anon! 💞💞 ive thoroughly enjoyed my return here, n now the story is yours n i hoped u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it <3 special shoutout to my dbd betareaders, i love and appreciate all of u sm!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘think i like you best when you're just with me and no one else.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you love him. and he loves you too. a story as simple as that.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐short!reader﹐alive!reader ﹐established relationship ﹐im still getting a feel for charles character so go easy on me pls ﹐havent written non-smut in a long LONG time

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @love-xoxojules﹐@immortal101 ﹐@fadedpictures91 ﹐@charles-rxwlands﹐ @kidbiscuitt @smallestgremlin

Falling in love with a ghost wasn’t on the cards for you, until you met Charles Rowland.

The supernatural had haunted you since you were a small child, being the victim of a near-death experience isn’t easy on any youngling. Especially you. The consequences of viewing these seemingly mythological creatures took years of patience and silent work to endure, more so, because nobody would ever believe you if you told them you saw ghosts. How ghastly.

And as a young child, you couldn’t imagine that decades into the future, you’d be laid between the arms of one. Two bronzed columns that supported the minuscule length of your torso. And for a ghost? Charles is oddly warm. Or maybe that’s you warming up to your idea of your body heat, marinating in the crisp sheets of your bed. A sanctuary the two of you now shared, together.

But it was nice to think that it was Charles too. He was the reason why you felt comfortable and protected after all. In a world of witchcraft, warlocks, dangers, and death Charles was your home.

A pair of bow-turned lips place themselves against your temple, assisting you in drifting out of sleep. Charles murmurs against the surface of your skin, planting scattered kisses along the top of your head in the process. ‘Dove, we’re meeting Crystal for coffee, remember?’

Charles’s gently mustered words are enough to serenade a response out of your sleepy self. You murmur incoherent words, flipping yourself over so that when you inch your eyes open, they can delight in your boyfriend’s beauty.

His ebony-clad curls are fluffed to perfection atop his head, not a hint of bed-head in sight, which you consider impressive before you remember that Charles mostly spent the night just watching you. As if nothing else in the world matters. You extend a hand to the defined curve of his jaw, practically guiding his lips toward your own. They lock together in familiarity, and nothing but pure, honeyed ecstasy buzzes throughout you. This is better than coffee, better than anything. Charles tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between.

And as you two separated, Charles beamed down at you with something indescribable bouncing around in his whiskey eyes.  ‘I think a sleep-in wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?’ Rising to the day seems like the logical option. Something that barely crosses your mind for a second before you fall captive to those bronzed arms, weaving around the hitch of your waist. And before you know it, you discover yourself half-tossed atop the ghost you had fallen for. The tall length of his legs tangled with your own. And any responsible, adult-like thought dissolved as your lips crashed together. Something oh-so-destructible yet perfect, how could you say no?

And possibly, that perfect destruction is always the reason why you both are considered late to possibly anything imaginable. If Edwin found himself in the depths of the fiery circles of hell again, the entire group would bet that you and Charles would take an eternity to part before he’d get rescued. It’d be more beneficial for Edwin to smuggle out himself.

‘We’re going to be awfully late, angel.’

‘Maybe because you keep distracting me.’

‘Nonsense, I’m brills and can do no wrong.’

You tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror before you. You scrutinise Charles with a disbelieving gaze at his words, which shortly dissolve into nothing less than adoration. Nevertheless, you continued to feign annoyance as you combed a single hand through your hair and down your scalp. Fingers adjusting the little strands to suit your desire for tidiness. 

You abandon this aspiration, pivoting upon your heel. The mask of annoyance you pertain slips away into nothingness as a soft laugh escapes you amid your words. Facing your boyfriend, you slip a hand into his own.

‘You’re lucky that I love you.’ 

'I am so very lucky.'

Charles’ adjusted his position as he moved his lips from the curve of your forehead, toward the curve of your lips. There was something passionate about how the deep onyx of hues sparked with something even deeper. Something warm and honeyed, indescribable. And before you could even decipher what it was you could feel the honeyed taste of him upon your lips, Charles scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

His arm relented against the small of your back, even as you holler out empty threats and meaningless curses amid your laughter. This merely prompted Charles to bounce you atop his shoulder blade, a chuckle of his own heard as you huffed and puffed. Nevertheless, you would refuse to admit that the action of soft intimacy made you feel over the moon with exhilaration.

A curse of Charles’s own accompanied your laughter as he was a breath away from the side of his torso slamming into the doorway he attempted to parade you through, which frankly made you laugh harder.

‘You’re such a dick.’ You managed to wheeze out.

‘I think you may be right about that one.’

Charles’s voice sounded with a tinge of mischief, which crept, announced in his tone. You could almost hear the grin in his voice as he articulated his words, even through your limited peripheral vision as you were held captive in his arms.

‘You love it, though.’

The Charles-like cockiness your boyfriend presented caused you to blow out a breath of feigned exasperation. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the slow ghost of a smile proceeded to creep onto your lips. Especially as he continued to balance you upon the bridge of his broadened shoulder, for a hint of dramatics, of course. Because you did love it.

And as the two of you ventured toward inevitable lateness, you couldn’t help but think how you couldn’t wait to do it all again the following morning.

WORD COUNT: 973 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[fanoftheimagines]

My Breath through the Deep Water

Pairing: (pre-relationship) Edwin Payne/Charles Rowlan/Ghost!Reader

Reader Gender: AFAB Trans Masc / Non-Binary

CW: pre-canon, reader is dead, neglectful/abusive parents, chronic illness & anemia, implied periods, yearning (everyone is yearning, everyone is oblivious), discussion of spousal murder & abuse, supernatural activity, Death & Dream cameo, you can pry Y/N from my cold dead hands

Word Count: 3,098

Summary: Dying in your sleep was supposed to guarantee your spot in the Dreaming. But when you end up stuck as a ghost on the mortal plane, you go to the only ghosts who can help: the Dead Boy Detectives.

A/N: I have fallen for the dead sad bois. This show is perfect and I am attached to them now. Title from Deep Water by American Authors. The reader’s backstory is based off my chronically ill childhood. Reader is meant to be around the boys’ age. I think this probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, so cheers to that!

Shout out to lilacclorceta for beta reading this for me!

Masterlist | AO3 Link

--- 1992 ---

The wooden door with a windowpane stood right in front of you. You took in a deep breath – one you arguably didn’t need anymore – and walked through. There were two ghostly teenage boys inside, one sitting at the desk in the middle of the room and one fiddling with the clearly-marked cases board. A nervous ball wadded in your stomach. Asking for help was never your forte, but you were at your wits end.

“Um…” You mumbled, “Excuse me?” The two boys looked up. The one in a suit and bowtie raised an eyebrow while the one in red gave you a welcoming smile. “Are you the Dead Boy Detectives?”

“That we are!” The one in red said, before turning to look at the other. He nodded. “Come in. I’m Charles, this is Edwin. How can we help you?”

You stepped further in carefully. “I… um… I need your help figuring out why I’m here…”

Edwin – the one in the suit and bowtie – nodded and gestured to the spot in front of the desk. “Please, we’ll need to know everything.”

Charles walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, angled toward Edwin. Again, you took a breath you didn’t need. “Death never came for me and I… I have no idea why…” Charles’ face flooded with sympathy. Edwin’s remained blank. “Thing is,” you hesitated, looking over their heads as you spoke, “I know where I was supposed to go, technically speaking. But I just… didn’t.”

Edwin quirked a brow in intrigue. “And you do not have any unfinished business? You’re positive?”

“No, that’s the thing. If I do, I don’t know what it is.” You responded, looking to him.

“So, what happened?” Charles probed. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, how’d you die?”

You sighed and looked at your hands. Death never came for you. Just another sad occurrence in your already depressing life. A sick, painful, lonely life. You’d died as you’d lived: alone. Neglectful parents combined with a severe bleeding disorder left you sickly and weak until the very end. No one rushed to help you, always taking their time to try anything. Months before any medication to help with your heavy bleeding, and months more until a single blood transfusion, losing more and more lifeblood every day. As you grew weaker, you spent more time sleeping. It’s there you discovered an escape: the Dreaming. You spent your short years stuck at home, visiting the Dreaming to help with the ache. Your friends – if you could call them that, given they were dreams – said you’d stay in the Dreaming were you to die there. It was a hopeful outlook, given your rotten luck in life.

And then you died in your sleep. You were in the Dreaming at the time. You blinked, felt a strange tug at your core, then opened your eyes to your bedroom, your pale corpse lifeless under the covers.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek as you told them your story. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb. “Sorry, still fresh.”

“Hey, don’t worry. Only natural, isn’t it? Dying alone sounds scary, I’m sorry you went through that.” Charles said.

Edwin’s face was twisted in fascination and curiosity. “Charles, a word?” He interrupted, facing Charles.

He dragged him into the closet before he could respond. Their voices were muffled through the door. You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety swelling in your throat. “I can pay!” You suddenly burst, voice just loud enough you hoped they could hear you.

Charles stepped out first and sat back on the desk. Edwin stood straight – his hands clasped all proper – next to him. “We’ll take your case.”

“Oh, thank you.” A relieved breath left you.

“Now, you said you could pay?” He continued inquisitively.

You nodded. “Right, well I inherited a collection of rare books on the supernatural from my grandmother. The books are still there. I don’t think my parents are ready to move on yet, honestly. They’re yours, if you help me.”

“Oh, brills! Edwin’s always looking to add more to his collection, right Edwin?” Charles smiled – almost smitten, if you didn’t know any better – at Edwin.

Edwin fought back a smile. “Yes, Charles, thank you.” He nodded his head toward you. “Now, let us get started.”

--- 1999 ---

“I come bearing gifts, my friends!” You smiled widely as you walked through the office mirror. A thick manila file was in your hand.

“You are aces, you are!” Charles laughed, taking the file from your hand. “Oh, look at this, old Mr. Brewer’s got some nasty skeletons, eh?” Edwin peered over his shoulder.

“Interesting. So, he caused the death of a young woman 48 years ago, and yet she didn’t seek revenge until now?” Edwin remarked before looking up at you. “Well done.”

Charles handed the file to him and swung an arm around your shoulder. “That’s a compliment in Edwin’s book, right there.” He squeezed you against him. The comforting pressure had you leaning in further.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” You smiled, glancing at the pretty boy with his arm around you. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around, right?” It was a half-joke – something frankly pitiful if you were honest with yourself.

“Nah, none of that,” he chuckled, squeezing you again, “we like you, don’t we? Besides, your case isn’t solved. Not a good look, if you ask me.”

“Yes, you’ve become a valuable member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We’d both be completely lost without you.” Edwin snarked, half sarcastically. “Now, did you happen to learn anything else from this source of yours?”

You smirked. “Apparently, Brewer’s nephew bought a typewriter from a seller of supernatural artifacts last year.”

“And, let me guess, she was the original owner? Oh, that’s brills.” Charles leaned over Edwin, practically resting his chin on his shoulder. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the page. “Haunted objects are practically our bread and butter.”

Your gaze rested on him for a moment before you tore it away. You dug out a scrap of paper out of your inner jacket pocket. “Yeah. My source, as you so called her, said this would help with sorting it out.” You handed it to Edwin.

He nodded and scanned it. “Wonderful, I’ll get to work on this. You two do some leg work, find out what you can about this scorned woman.”

--- SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET ---

Charles and you walked into the house. It had been abandoned after Thomas Brewer’s death. His only living family was his nephew, who didn’t want to live in the city. The only ones hanging around seemed to be Brewer himself and this unknown woman. It was dark. The windows were drawn to keep out street light. The furniture was covered with white tarps. Blood stains surrounded the single armchair in the living room. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.

The two of you split up. You took to the main floor, Charles upstairs. You skirted around the red-stained floor. The bookcase left of the telly was practically overflowing with books. The old man had clearly collected. And there, sitting right in the middle of the fourth shelf, was the typewriter. It looked normal, just a regular typewriter. You really wouldn’t know it was haunted by an apparently malicious ghost. You didn’t touch it – you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you did. Instead, you went to the office off the living room.

The large wooden desk was covered in a thick layer of dust. The right drawer was locked. You opened all the others. Nothing of note on the woman, unfortunately. Behind the desk, a painting of a lakefront. You pulled it off the wall to reveal a wall safe. Typical.

“Found something!” You called, leaving the room to find Charles.

He was in the main bedroom. His back was to the door as he read a leather-bound book. He tilted his head to you as you walked in. “He definitely killed her.”

“Diary?” You asked, sitting next to him.

He hummed and shifted the book for you to read too. “Her name was Mary. She was his wife.” He paused and closed his eyes. “He pushed her down the stairs when she tried to leave him.”

“Oh,” you muttered, forcing your eyes away from the book. “Then, I suppose he deserved it.”

“Yeah…” His voice dropped slightly and you could sense his anger rising. Your hand slid easy into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. His shoulder slumped against yours. His past was coming back to him – you could tell in the way his shoulders drew in and his mask slipped slightly. A solacing silence settled over the two of you. The pressure and proximity were a comfort for both of you.  

“We should go.” He eventually broke the silence.

“There’s a safe and a locked drawer we should deal with first.” You replied as you stood up. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened. And well, you were both professionals, after all.

“The client lied to us. He did know her.” Charles told Edwin. You’d returned to the office to find Edwin in a state of undress you rarely saw him – that is, without his suit jacket – knee deep in research. He was surrounded by piles of books mostly regarding object hauntings. A small smile formed at the sight. He was perfect in his own way, something that made butterflies flutter in your stomach in the same way Charles did sometimes.

You zoned out of the conversation. The two boys – your boys – were easy on the eyes. They were both so damn pretty. The kind of pretty that stalled your breath and made your heart skip a beat. And on top of that, they were the perfect duo. A verifiable old married couple if you’d ever seen one. And they made you feel more alive than you ever did before. Somehow, Death had granted you a gift. The realization was almost a shock to the system. They were your best friends, your family. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey!” Charles’ hand suddenly waved in front of your face. “You still in there, mate?”

It jerked you out of your stupor. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” You looked up to him. His brown eyes were full of concern. “What’d I miss?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Your friend was right. I have the spell I need to unbind Mary Brewer from the typewriter. Once she’s free, her and Thomas should be able to move on. Get ready. We leave in an hour.”

--- A WOMAN SCORNED ---

Why did nothing ever go to plan? A spectral claw dug further into your shoulder. No pain followed, but a heavy feeling of pressure followed. Mary’s elongated, horrific form screamed eerily into your face. You turned reflexively. Edwin’s voice came somewhere behind you. His Latin was just barely audible. Charles’ cricket bat thwacked the enraged spirit, but she only tightened her grip on you.

“Please hurry up!” You yelled; voice tinged with panic. “Charles!”

“I’ve got you!” He said. You could just barely hear him riffling through his bag. Mary drooled over you as she bared down on you. Then, she screamed loudly. Charles had swung on her with his knife. She reared back. Her claws released you. You dropped and scrambled. “Yeah, that’s right. Leave them alone.”

“Any time now, Edwin!”

With a final word, Mary’s ghostly form glowed blue then settled. There on the floor sat a sobbing woman dressed in sixties traveling ware. The three of you panted in relief. Edwin helped you to your feet and turned to Charles.

“You okay?”

Charles nodded, picked up his backpack, and tucked his iron knife away. “Aces, but we should get out of here. Now that she’s free, Death’ll come.”

--- CASE CLOSED ---

It hadn’t ended the way you expected, sure, but the case was still closed. The client had turned out to be a no-good murderer but you’d freed his late wife. Plus, you got paid before the case. Edwin spent the rest of the night reshelving his books. Charles smiled softly at him occasionally and busied himself with filing away the case.

You leaned against the wall, just watching them. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder what your afterlife would be like if you’d stayed in the Dreaming. But times like this made you want to hide away from Death forever.

That wonderful fluttering feeling returned. An easy smile fell on your lips. And after a moment of relishing in the saccharine feeling, you gently reached to take the stack of books from Edwin’s arms. “Let me help?”

He hummed pleasantly and shifted them into your arms. “Thank you.”

--- 2022 ---

Twenty-something years later, your case was on indefinite hiatus. The years passed pleasantly. The Dead Boy Detective Agency was a shining beacon in your postmortem life. Together, you closed probably hundreds of cases.

This one was simple, but with lots of detective work. A client came in, an older woman who just wanted to know who stole her mother’s engagement ring before she’d died. Her and her family lived on the other side of town – an hour away by the tube. Of course, that meant Edwin insisted on you practicing mirror travel on your way back. To get cases done faster, he claimed. Charles smirked at him knowingly when he’d said that and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath too.

Which led you here, in the client’s bedroom, staring at the unreflective mirror. Edwin stood uncharacteristically close behind you. His proximity made your metaphorical heart race. He gently placed your hand on the mirror. It rippled under your touch.

“Focus on the office.” He whispered close to your ear. “You need to remain focused on where you want to go. Think of the mirror as a doorway.” You took a deep breath and did as he said. Desperately not focusing on his nearness and trust, on this need to just… touch him. You did your best to focus on the office. “Now, step through.”   

You didn’t end up in the office. It was a back alley with a mirror leaning against a garbage bin. Whimpering came from a bit further in. Followed by a blue light. Dread grasped your throat. No…

“Well?” Edwin asked, poking his head out.

You quickly turned. Not him. “Death is here. Go!” You whispered, pushing him back through.

A voice stopped you from following. You couldn’t lead her back to them. Not them. Anyone but them. “Hello, Y/N.”

You turned around slowly this time. “Hello, Death. Are you finally here to take me?

She was beautiful and her face was kind. Her brown eyes sympathetic. “Do you want me to?”

You shook your head. No, that was the last thing you wanted. A man – his hair dark and wild, his eyes silver and galactic – dressed in all black walked up behind her. He felt familiar, in a similar way Death did. “Dream,” you whispered, almost reverently. He was here, somehow. Missing all those years you’d visited the Dreaming, watching as it decayed. “You’re here…”

“You know me?” His voice was smooth, reverberating deep in your chest even despite your lack of physical feeling.

“I spent years in your realm. It welcomed me when I had nowhere else.” You smiled wistfully.

Death glanced at Dream. “They can go back, if you’ll take them. They died there a long time ago.” She turned back to you. “Do you want that?”

This was it. The moment you’d wanted all those years ago. It was here. All you had to do was nod and take her hand and you could go back to the Dreaming with your friends and see its beauty like you were always meant to. But then you thought of Charles’ smile. His golden earring and Rude Boys jacket and red shirt. Edwin’s quiet concern and fancy suit. Your friends, the people you’d risked your existence for over and over again.

“No.”

Dream’s stare pierced your very being. “No? You dare deny your destiny? My realm?”

“I would have said yes, if you’d come 30 years ago. But then I made a home here, with a family of my own. And I’m happier than I ever was when I was alive or in the Dreaming.” You glanced at Death. Fear knotted in your gut. What if she took you anyway?

But she just nodded and smiled kindly. “Good, I’m glad you found your place. And when you’re ready, I will come.”

She turned to him. A moment later, he nodded. “You are always welcome in the Dreaming.”

A sigh left you involuntarily. “Thank you.”

The second you walked back through the mirror you were engulfed in their arms. Edwin – who didn’t like touch most days – held you tight in relief. Charles tugged you both close. If tears came, no one mentioned them. You sagged into their arms.

Then, Edwin slapped your arm. “Are you completely stupid?” He yelled, pulling away. His voice was high with residual anxiety.

“Easy, Edwin. They’re still here.” Charles smiled, squeezing you again before releasing you. “What happened, then? How’d you get away?”

A soft smile – saccharine and easy – graced your lips. “Death let me go.”

“What?” Edwin asked. Confusion all over his face. “That’s not possible.”

You grinned. Happiness swelled. “She said I found my place and when I was ready, she’d come for me.”

“Oh, that’s brills!” Charles laughed, picking you up in a crushing hug.

Edwin smiled – properly smiled, for possibly the first time since you’d met him. “Let’s go home then. This case can wait, what with Death around.”

Life hadn’t been kind to you. Neither had death. Then you’d met two incredible detectives. All your pain and suffering didn’t matter anymore, not really, when you had them to lean on. It still ached like a bruise on occasion. Yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant you ended up here. You’d gotten what you’d always wanted in the most unlikely of ways. You were tied to them forever now. Three souls bound together through pain and friendship. They were a safe place to rest your head when it all was too much. Just as you were for them. When Edwin had flashbacks of Hell or Charles got quiet and repressive. You don’t know what your future holds, but you knew that no matter what, you’d found where you belonged.

[vaguesxrrow]

can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own

[waywardsonsandaughters]

They Say You Know It When You Know It, and I Know

Another little fic, because they live rent free in my head and one morning this song just turned into a story. I hope you enjoy.

Edwin used to sing when he was alive. But then, he used to do a lot of things.

He had a beautiful voice, full and rich, more in the back of his throat than his chest, high like a soft swift stream than a deep slow river. He could hold the notes, he had the breath work down. 

When he sang, people paid attention. In fact, when he did most things people paid attention. Edwin, in addition to singing, was becoming an accomplished equestrian, and learning to fence at school. 

He was the son, and only child, of a prominent family. When he was younger, a child, it was all right that people regarded him, he heard the whispers about him. About what he would become, following in the footsteps of his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather. 

As he grew older the attention turned sour. Glances with furrowed brows, huffs of impatience slipping between the tight lips of his parents who watched his increasing peculiarities with increasing disdain, restraining the biting words. 

Most of the time.

Edwin had to believe what his parents told him. They were his parents. 

He believed it when they told him to sit still because fidgeting was improper. He kept his hands pinned to his sides. Fingers stretching and retracting to keep them from wiggling. 

When they told him to speak gently because his candor was unwelcome. 

When they told him to keep a stiff upper lip because men are not soft, they did not cry. The inside of his cheek raw from where he worried the tender flesh to keep his emotions behind a carefully constructed mask of tightly held lips, a level expression and dour, downcast eyes. 

When they would pinch his sides to keep his back straight, or hold his wrists to keep his arms from swinging so widely, with grace and elegance. He kept his back stiff, picturing the heavy book on the crown of his head that he used in secret to force a slow purposeful walk.

Uncomfortable with the attentiveness of the people around town, his peers, his bullies, Edwin shrank, trying to find comfort within the blanket of the shadows, solace in isolation, and the silence that came with it.

He stopped riding when he saw school mates along the railing whisper behind their hands, casting furtive glances his way. 

He stopped fencing when thrusts from his opponents became reckless when their teacher turned away, and hits were aimed at his arms, his legs, his neck.

He stopped singing when malicious smiles met his gaze during choir practice late one December day, just before St. Hilarion's released for the winter. Edwin felt something move through him, like the damp, clammy feeling of illness, as a high, clear note rang in the silence of the nave. 

He threw himself into his studies, in solitary tasks and hobbies, in anything that kept him out of sight. Out of mind. And out of people's conversations. But the whispers grew into something his father could no longer ignore, and Edwin could no longer hide from.

And one day, not too long after that holiday concert, his father boxed his ears. Swearing they would make a man out of him yet, and that Edwin would no longer be a growing embarrassment.

His efforts never quite worked when he was alive. The carefully built walls were more like a sheet of ice that frosted the windows. The outline of shapes with none of the defining features.

His efforts never quite worked when he was in Hell. There simply was no time to think about how he held his hands when fingers were being pulled off slowly, one at a time, for hours days years. Or how to keep his arms at his sides when they were twisted, or trying to keep his back straight when it would arch unnaturally off the ground as a creature, grotesque and horrible, gripped and tore his body. 

Screaming, crying, there was no allowance for emotional comfort in Hell, and after a time far beyond when his voice was hoarse, cracked, and gasping, Edwin relented, the silence he had cultivated for years while alive persisting into his death. 

His efforts never quite worked in his afterlife.

Charles, Edwin found, loved music.

In the beginning, silence stretched into weeks, but during outings Charles would linger in homes, by storefronts, anywhere music floated through the air. Edwin could see the tension leave Charles, limbs shaking loose chased with a fond smile. 

As in life, music was a familiar constant. It required no taste, had no texture, and settled with the same intimate intensity. After time, and without conversation, Charles acquired a small stereo, holding both cassettes and CDs of which he amassed a considerable collection. A small pile of cassettes sat stacked next to the bookcase, then more along one of the lower shelves, beneath the open space of the sofa. Finally, they found a bin and Charles tipped his collection inside, but soon more began appearing stacked on top the lid of the bin, and growing out like roots from a tree. 

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the hours of silence punctuated with melodies, moving them easily from one moment to the next.

Charles never questioned why Edwin didn’t so much as bop his head, to Queen or Yes! or Fleetwood Mac or any other music modern or classic that Charles thought Edwin would think to be “brills”. Or even to tap his fingers to the sound despite how often Edwin did drum the tips of his fingers against a surface. He found music from when Edwin was alive, jazz primarily, and Edwin awarded him with a sidelong glance, delicate smile tugging at his lips, as brass rebounded off the walls.

However, the music played within Edwin; notes flowing alongside passages in his book, the latest information in the case file, Charles bouncing a soccer ball against his knee the wall the floor. It stretched and blossomed, settling into him and he never felt without a melody even when it was nothing more than the quiet inhale exhale of their breathing.

Crystal, like Charles, was very enthusiastic about music. She was more “in the scene”, as Charles and Crystal called it, than Charles had been. Edwin was relieved they could share that, as they went to concerts, festivals, and local coffee shop music nights. The music playing in the agency office picked up, and now the silence was punctuation.

It was mid-morning, late in the fall. The sun was filtering in behind clouds, the window behind the desk was open, while he couldn’t feel it, Edwin knew the air would be crisp. 

Charles had left the stereo on, playing a playlist Crystal had curated through a cassette tape with a chord that connected to her phone. It was all new music which she proclaimed was just as good as the oldies Charles insisted they listen to. 

While Charles was lying on their sofa with a book open, pages down on his chest, tossing a small rock into the air, Edwin was facing the bookcase, book in hand, peering at the ones already on the shelf with a focused expression pursing his lips. 

Edwin heard the soft sound of the rock against Charles’s palm as it was thrown skyward. Down. Silence. Down. Silence. He could almost time it. He slid the book onto the top shelf, twisting to grab another off the pile stacked high up on top a slim chest of drawers to his left when there was no more rhythmic up and down, up and down, of the stone. 

Turning to face Charles he saw Charles was sitting up fully, book on the ground, pages bowing, staring at Edwin over the low wall that separated the front of the office where Edwin was to the back. Edwin grimaced, sour words on his lips ready to exclaim how books should be respected when he was met with an astonished expression and he swallowed heavily, feeling inexplicably nervous under Charles’ gaze.

“You can sing?”

Edwin froze. It was instantaneous, the shift, the shame. The matter that gave them form suffused into his face, he couldn’t feel the heat of the flush but it almost felt more solid as the energy gathered on his cheeks and embarrassingly into his ears. His arms came against his sides quickly, his back straightened, hands in his habitual triangle shape in front of him. His mouth felt stuffed with cotton, he felt phantom pinching on his ears. He could vaguely see the expression which had arrested him shift into something soft.

“No,” Edwin said primly.

He saw the expression level, a downward tug of Charles’s lips while a brow lifted slightly. It was a look Edwin had seen when Charles was doing puzzles.

“But, you can sing,” Charles repeated, squaring to face him. 

His fingers curled inward, fists nearly bumping, and then Edwin flexed and dropped his hands to his sides. 

“No.” with a small shake of his head.

Edwin saw the jigsaw pieces start to line up. Maybe not in all the ways, but there was a moment where Charles knitted his brows together, and Edwin considered what he thought Charles might guess.

He turned his head, huffing, “I do not sing, Charles.” and he lifted the next tome for the shelf.

“That wasn’t what I said, mate. I didn’t know you could sing.” a pause. “Why’d you stop?”

“Now, or before?” It came far too quick, with a bite that surprised him, and he knew would surprise Charles.

He heard more than saw the sigh, “Now. But, we can talk about before, too, yeah?”

Edwin pushed the book, finger lingered on the spine. The quiet in the room that stretched between them felt heavy. “I didn’t realize I was singing.” He made no effort to apologize, nor excuse himself, although his skin crawled with the desire to do both.

The song had switched at some point, the notes curling into the pause. “You have a nice voice,” Charles said simply, after some time.

His finger pressed too hard, and the book collided loudly with the back of the bookcase. “Thank you.” It was a statement. He turned to pick up the next book and saw Charles tapping the phone. The opening chord of the guitar, steady beat of the drums, the plucking notes of the piano filled the room, having skipped back to the prior track. 

The beat crescendoed, the chorus was quick. He heard Charles lilt the words, voice like a deep slow river, confident, singing for Edwin. “Take my heart, don’t break it-“

“-love me to my bones,” Edwin followed, soft, like a stream.

“-all this time I wasted, you were right there all along,” Charles answered, his notes carried on a smile.

[lowkeyrobin]

hey i saw you were talking requests for dbda, can you pls write something for charles rowland that takes place after him beating the night nurse, like helping to calm him down and comforting him

tysm!

oo okay yeah sure!! I can definitely try that for you! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry this is so short, I didn't really know what to do tbh 💀 idk writers block sucks istg

CHARLES ROWLAND ; nighty night nurse

summary ; after defeating the night nurse, you try to help comfort Charles

warnings ; language

word count ; 448

masterlist

"Those memories are not why I choose to stay here! I still have a purpose. I'm a Dead Boy Detective!"

Watching the Night Nurse fall into the mouth of the giant angler fish replayed in your mind over and over, practically paralyzing you. As Edwin, Crystal, and Niko look back at Charles, they're stunned, practically unable to find words.

"Why are you all looking at me like that? I did that for us"

"Charles, that was... extreme" Edwin replies.

Charles chuckles, turning to catch his breath. "That was extreme, Edwin? So was me dying at sixteen, mate. I don't wanna be dead. I hate it. But every day, I'm fucking smiling, cause who else will hold it together and keeping the spirits up? You? Are you gonna do that, huh?"

You slowly turn to face him as well, halfway listening since watching that was making your ears ring a bit. You didn't know what was different about this, as you'd seen a lot of weird shit over the years, but this was definitely one of those moments where you wanted to puke.

You felt for Charles, you really did, you understood his pain, you understood why he was so mad. But you'd never seen this side of him before. He'd never broken his happy little facade, his joy replaced by pure anger and hatred.

"What good am I doing? I couldn't stop Devlin from murdering his family over and over. I can't stop Crystal from hurting. I can't stop whatever is it going on with you. I can't stop anything!" He shouts, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I sure as hell couldn't stop my dad from beating the shit out of me" He sniffles, falling to his knees.

You cautiously walk to him, legs shaking, aching like you'd fall to yours at any moment. You slowly drop down to the damp grass, a hand softly resting on his shoulder. You slowly use your index and middle finger to tilt his chin up to look at you.

No words are shared, just a look.

His of pain and sorrow, yours heeding a silent apology and reassurance.

You look to the trio a few feet away, nodding for them to trudge away. As they do, Charles falls into your arms, attempting to choke back sobs, a river of tears falling from his eyes.

"I'm sorry" he cries, his hands testing on your arms that rest around his torso.

"It's okay," you whisper. "Everything's gonna be alright. You don't have to fix other people's problems or try and keep everything glued together. It's okay to not be okay"

He sniffles and nods, trying to catch his breath.

"It's gonna be okay"

[alissa3000]

I need all the writers to hop on dead boy detectives right now 😤😤

[ciershare]

in dire need of more charles rowland x reader fics, please fill the void in my heart