#dbda x reader

you do not tolerate shit on monty

especially since Esther was a bitch to him his whole life

you'll defend him with your life bruh

the side eye when you hear smthn bad about him 💀💀

you and monty are similar and alike in your own ways, so when ppl come for him it's like they're coming for you as well

"why has that monty kid been around so much?"

"why do you care??"

"I was just asking-"

"monty betrayed us!"

"and you're a bitch, charles"

"and you're built like the bus driver"

"and you're built like the bus itself!"

after his "betrayal" to the dbd, you were defending him still

which started a whole thing with mostly the boys

Crystal was also kinda pissed

Niko not so much, she was kinda on your side but also agreeing with some of Charles' points

and then Edwin had to bring up that maybe you're into him???? boy hush you cannot be speaking

but you'd stand up for him as much as they didn't like it

you knew monty wasn't a bad person, but you couldn't prove it

you saw a side of monty that they didn't

little did you know monty would be perched on the outer windowsill listening, back in his crow form

he appreciated it so much to the point he wanted to cry

he wanted to go in and apologize for everything he did and warn you guys about the house since they wanted to go in there and save the little girl

and about the snake thing

if crows could cry, he would be

Jenny was just cleaning a few tables in the front of the butcher shop, and you were talking her ear off about this and that.

she enjoyed moments like these, where she could still do her job or whatever else she wanted, while you got to talk about everything and anything.

its just this cute thing between you two, the typical yapper x listener trope, which you both enjoyed a lot.

atleast, usually.

however, ofcourse, to Jenny, something has to ruin the moment.

and that something, is Esther Finch.

she waltzes in, puffing smoke everywhere.

"well, hello there darling, its been a while since ive seen you here" she laughs, and it makes Jenny clench her hand tighter around the wet rag in her hand.

"yes, well, ive been sick for a week or two, but luckily im better now, so i get to keep Jenny company again!" you say excitedly, seeing no harm in conversing with the woman.

"the store is closed" Jenny grumbles at Esther, giving her a subtle glare. Jenny doesn't want to ruin your mood, but she also doesn't want Esther to get your attention.

"right, but i just thought i'd-" "no, get out" Jenny cuts her off, with a sarcastic smile, she gestures at the door.

you pretend to be oblivious, smiling kindly at Esther and waving her off as she leaves, but ofcourse, you know your girlfriend better than that.

the moment Esther is gone, Jenny lets out a sigh, and you get off the table you were sitting on, and hug her from behind, making her breath hitch.

"you know you don't have to be so jealous of Esther, she's not exactly my type..." you murmur softly.

He hadn’t meant to develop actual feelings. He swears it.

It had only been a bit of flirting in the beginning to get him in the good graces of Edwin and the boys, to please Esther and help her with her plan. She is the one who gave him human life, after all, so who was he to stand against her?

No, he had no problem using his newfound charms; that was until you started flirting back.

He had approached you because he saw your closeness to the boys and could tell that they respected and listened to you. If you could vouch for him, they would listen to you.

The other reason was that you were easy on the eyes, simple as that. He was only a guy after all—a guy who had spent his whole life as a crow, and had probably not gotten a lot of action.

He thought you would be perfect.

Earlier, Esther had introduced him to her TV, and he had sat there watching the show Friends all afternoon. He especially noted the way Joey approached ladies. He could tell from that that he was not like Joey, but he could use the material anyway.

So, what he was expecting when he approached you was for you to giggle, fall into him, touch his arm or something, and you would be won over! Simple as that!

What he wasn’t expecting, was for you to brush him off and carry on your evening like nothing.

He just stood there, dumbfounded. What? That should have worked!

He tried again, and again, and again…and again.

At the end of the night, you had no doubt what his intentions were: to get into your pants (or well, that’s what you thought). And while you weren’t interested in picking some guy up in some bar, he did intrigue you.

After all your rejections, he went home, dejected, and went to rant to Esther about it. She only smacked him over the head with her newspaper roll and told him to stop moping.

“Come on, use that pretty face I gave you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” she said. “After all, if you can’t get any of them to trust you, what use are you?”

She said it all with a sickly sweet smile, but Monty knew a threat when he heard one.

He just didn’t know how to approach you if you had already rejected him so badly.

He had no plan the next time he went out, deciding to just walk around the town, when he spotted you. Instead of trying to flirt and enthrall you, he merely walked past you and threw a simple “hello” and a smile your way.

You had almost been prepared for him to be obnoxiously flirty with you again, that his casual greeting threw you off—and intrigued you.

After that, you took every chance to talk to him and spend time with him, something he, of course, did not object to.

Even though it hadn’t been the way he first had planned to win your trust, Monty was happy with the outcome.

Having lived as a crow, fending for himself, he didn’t have a lot of…friends. He was happy to call you one.

And then you started flirting, which caught him completely off guard.

“I, uh, wh—I mean, sorry, what?” The words stumbled out of his mouth, none of them coherent or making any sense.

You smiled at him. “I said, I like your hair. It’s very pretty.” Your eyes jumped to his eyes, settling there for a moment. It was easy to rest there, among the swirling pools of deep brown, but you moved on to take in the rest of his features. “It looks good on you.”

One of your hands reached out to pull a black strand behind his ear, grinning at him as you did so. Monty did not know what to do with that. His brain seemed to have short-circuited. The only other compliment he had gotten had been from Esther, but that didn’t make him feel what your words did. He had only been prepared to flirt with you, but not with you flirting back.

He couldn’t think straight, only trying to fight the smile that was spreading against his lips and hide the steadily gaining of colour in his cheeks. You thought he was pretty, when he was acting like himself.

You noticed the effect you had on him, and wouldn’t stop exercising it. You enjoyed the surprised chuckle and genuine smile that would light up on his face.

Monty, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of it. He was surprised he could even feel like this.

At this point, he had moved past what Esther wanted him to do. He hadn’t seduced you to gain your trust, or somehow tried to manipulate you. He had befriended you and developed genuine feelings for you.

And, oh fuck… He had feelings for you, he just realised. He cared about you, about your well being and wanted to make sure that you were always content.

Yet, he was actively scheming with a witch who wanted to kill you and your friends.

The guilt set in immediately.

It started with avoidance. His first instinct was just to run away from the problem—if he were still a crow, he would have flown away.

Monty started to draw away from you, spending less time with you and stopped seeking you out anymore. You noticed the change immediately and was alarmed, as one, of course, would be.

You found him by the swings, one evening, perched on top of one of them. He wasn’t swinging, just letting the stillness calm his mind. It always would, even as a crow.

Immediately, he noticed the shift when something new enters the surroundings. Or, well, someone new. He turned his head slightly, enough to glance over his shoulder, and upon seeing that it was just you, he relaxed. Then, he tensed again, because it was you.

You didn’t say anything as you approached, letting the stillness talk enough for the both of you as you claimed the other swing next to Monty. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his gaze was fixated right in front of him, unmoving and unchanging.

Cautiously, you reached out with a hand. “Monty?” you asked tentatively. He didn’t react so you tried again. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied. His voice sounded strained and too levelled, as if he was actively trying to remove all emotion from it.

“I can tell something is clearly bothering you,” you said, moving to crouch in front of him. It forced him to meet your gaze. “Tell me, and maybe I can help,” you offered, a sweet smile on your face.

The sight made Monty’s face fall in despair and he closed his eyes in frustration. He couldn’t handle lying to your face like this. He respected you too much. So, he forced himself to nod and looked away, almost choking on the words he tried to get out of his mouth.

“I just have…a lot to deal with right now,” he said, hoping that would be enough for you to back off.

You nodded, almost to yourself. Then, reaching out with both hands to take his face and make him look at you. “Okay. But promise me to come to me if it becomes too much?” you said gravely.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, I, uh, promise.”

“I’m here for you.” You smiled again, so sweet his heart clenched and he had to fight not to tell the whole truth right then and there.

“Thank you,” he managed instead.

He didn’t want to betray your trust, but Esther had created him. She gave him life as a boy, gave him the ability to feel all these feelings for you. That’s something you can’t easily ignore.

Especially for Monty. He felt some obligation to stick around with her. Well, some were obligation, and some were just threats from Esther’s of what she would do should he ever leave her.

He was afraid, both for himself and for you, and he felt trapped between what he should do and what he wanted to do.

So, he couldn’t tell you the truth, and it ate away at him inside until he had finally lead you and the boys into the forest, perfectly set up for Esther’s trap.

When you found out what he did, who he was, he furiously avoided your gaze because he knew it would be too much and that the betrayal in your eyes would hurt him too much.

Thankfully, he couldn’t dwell on it too much, as Esther dismissed him and ordered him back to their house.

He took one glance behind him, thinking it would be the last he saw of you, and shed a silent tear at the heartbreak in your gaze. It almost stopped him right then and there, almost made him want to throw himself on the ground and beg for your forgiveness on his knees.

Instead, he was interrupted by Esther’s bark of an order and hurried away, a wounded animal going home to lick his pains away.

Then, when Esther didn’t return home, he dared to hope. He ventured out, to the place he knew you resided together with Edwin and the others and waited.

He waited against all odds, on the littlest chance that you may have survived. When he saw you walk around the corner, smiling at something Charles had said, his heart stopped short and he finally knew what the term “took my breath away” felt like.

Your steps faltered as your eyes landed on him, your gaze hardening immediately and Charles moving in front of you, as if to protect you from him. You just shook your head and told him to head inside.

Then, you levelled your glare on Monty.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He immediately threw out an explanation, an apology, a declaration: everything rushed out of him like a waterfall of words he couldn’t block anymore, not that he wanted to.

Monty wanted nothing but your forgiveness. He thought he had an obligation to Esther, but now that she was gone, he realised how wrong he was. He could not shake the hurt expression on your face on that day in the woods, it haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

He would not stop trying to make up for everything he did, and you, against your better judgment, could not refuse those beautiful brown eyes of his.

If he really wanted to make amends, you would let him, because you couldn’t deny that you did want him back.

It would take a long time, he knew, but eventually, hopefully, the two of you could go back to what you had been.

You sneered at the tabby cat at your feet, kicking it gently off of your leg. It had tried to rub against you, which you knew was its way of marking you and showing affection. It was disgusting and you had half a mind to kick it harder. As if reading your thoughts, a ginger cat, perched on a large throne-like chair in the middle of the room, hissed in warning.

Edwin had warned you that this was a matter of diplomacy and to let him do the talking, and despite your usual favour to physicalities you decided to heed his words. So you merely rolled your eyes and let the cat be.

As your group had entered the building, the length of a warehouse stretched before you, a cat surrounding you from every direction. A group of them dispersed from a throne as you neared it, revealing a half-eaten human body laying before it. The skin around the all too visible bones had been picked off and was seen hanging in thin threads, more a skeleton than a body. Chunks of meat was completely missing in some areas and spilling out of it along with blood colouring the wooden floor—one of its eyes had been dragged out of its socket and probably played with like some toy. The sight of it made your stomach turn, almost to the point of looking away. The others groaned behind you and you heard Crystal let out a silent gasp.

“What’s wrong? Just a bunch of cats,” one of the cats commented, the smart-mouthed bastard.

Your urge to kick it overcame you once again—this time even stronger. Edwin seemed to sense it and held out a hand to halt your step, then glanced uncertainly towards the cat on the throne.

“We were invited to see the Cat King,” he said.

You turned your gaze to the throne to find cloud of purple flames erupting from the throne and then a man sitting in the place of the earlier cat, your own mouth opening in a surprised gasp.

“What? Never seen a handsome man before?” his lulling voice asked, winking in your direction. You promptly shut your mouth with a scoff.

“Can all cats do that?” asked Crystal from beside you.

The man laughed dryly. “‘Can all cats do that?’” he repeated, leaning his cheek on his hand. “Of course not! I’m the Cat King.” His glance shifted between the four of you. “I can tell you’re not the brains of the operation.  Nor the looks. But who is, then?”

One of your eyebrows raised at his question and he caught your gaze, eyes raking over your figure as his smiled widened. The weight of his gaze made heat travel up your neck but you ignored it in favour of letting your face settle into a grim stare. The Cat King seemed unaffected by your reaction—or he chose to ignore it—and merely yawned.

“Sorry, I’m already bored,” he chuckled, turning in the direction of one of his cats. “Which one of them used the magic on you?”

The cat that had spoken before opened his mouth again, nodding in Edwin’s direction. “The scrawny one that just had the nerve to talk to you.”

The Cat King tilted his head and let out a soft, “Oh.” His eyes briefly glanced in your direction again. “Shame.”

Edwin cleared his throat and gestured to the other three of you. “We are the Dead Boy Detectives, we’re solving a mystery—”

“Oh, I don’t care,” interrupted the Cat King. “Using magic on my cats is a total car crash on your part. We…” he paused to stand up, rising to his full impressive height, “should discuss your offence.” His eyes jumped between you and Edwin before taking a step down from his pedestal and uttering the final word. “Privately.”

You felt yourself scowling and then adverting your eyes from him with a swallow of your throat. For whatever reason, you were not sure.

“Oi,” said Charles, drawing out bat from his backpack. “He’s not going anywhere with you.”

Your eyebrows raised alongside Edwin’s and sighed, before he motioned to step aside.

“Charles, come here,” said Edwin and walked away from the Cat King. You followed him together with Charles and Crystal, and once out of earshot he lowered his voice. “Perhaps a conversation is the play here.”

Crystal shook her head at Edwin. “I agree with Charles. Let’s just kick cats until we’re out.”

“Yeah, fuck ‘em,” you chimed in, before shooting a glance at the nearest cat and the thought of lowering your voice even further entered your mind. “They’re all savages, they can’t be diplomatic.”

“Do you two want to end up like him?” hissed Edwin, gesturing to the body behind him. Your glance followed his and again you were overcome by the urge to vomit. He kept talking in a hushed whisper. “Not to mention, cat scratches are like poison to ghosts. There are too many cats here who seem to know that.”

Charles seemed to contemplate Edwin’s words. His eyes briefly flickered towards the Cat King before letting out an already resigned sigh. “I don’t like the look of him.”

Edwin met his eye with confidence. “I am perfectly capable of handling this,” he said.

“So, telling secrets about me already,” said the deep voice belonging to the Cat King. You sent a murderous glare over your shoulder before turning back.

“Quiet bastard.” You rolled your eyes.

You heard his chuckle behind you, being able to picture his smug smile all too clearly. “What can I say? It’s the cat in me.”

“Clearly,” you muttered.

“Am I sensing some animosity?” asked the Cat King, his voice closer than before. You hadn’t heard him walk closer, but again, he was half a cat. You turned to face him fully, raising an eyebrow at him. He was leaning forward with his hands behind his back, a suspiciously innocent expression on his face.

“So, you’re not as stupid as you look,” you said with the ugliest scowl you could muster.

He winced, although you didn’t miss the way his lips tugged upwards. “Ouch.”

“Look, just take care of what you have to do and we can get out of this cat-infested hell-hole,” you said, throwing your arms out in exasperation.

“You don’t like cats?” asked the Cat King. There seemed to be genuine surprise on his face.

“Would I like getting run over by a ten ton truck filled with lighter fluid and then set on fire with me under it?” you retorted. Your voice was dripping with sarcastic poison and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course I don’t like cats.”

The Cat King tilted his head. You might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his brows furrow into a slight frown. “Hm. Strangely specific.” He looked as if he was going to say something more but instead he turned his attention to Edwin with an easy smile, as if he had not heard your words even to begin with. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Don’t you dare try any funny business,” warned Charles, holding out the bat threateningly at him.

You saw the Cat King sigh smugly, a last glance thrown your way that made you advert your eyes, before a cloud of purple smoke engulfed him and Edwin and they were both gone. Immediately, Charles tried to rush forward, grabbing hold of nothing. He turned around to the two of you with a desperation you had not before seen in his face.

“Look, calm down, mate,” you started saying, reaching out a hand to hold his shoulder. He slumped against your grasp and met your gaze with the most pathetic look you had ever seen. You led him to sit down on one of the crates, the cats dispersing now that the Cat King was resolving the problem.

“He’ll be fine,” said Crystal, sitting down on the other side of him. “He’s Edwin.”

“You’re right,” agreed Charles, rubbing a hand against the bridge of his nose. “I’m just so used to looking after him it feels strange to not be able to protect him against this cat bloke.”

You continued to rub a hand across his back and said in the most comforting tone you could muster, “If it’s to any consolation, I don’t think the Cat King will try to harm Edwin. Judging by the looks of him, he seems to want compensation in, er, other ways.”

His head whipped towards you with a raised eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“I, er—”

Your hand halted uncertain in it tracks and you suddenly had trouble finding your voice. How could you tell Charles what you meant without disturbing anything in his and Edwin’s relationship? It would be much easier to let the two boys solve it themselves than crudely spitting out the fact that the ‘cat bloke wants to fuck your mate’. Luckily, Crystal came to your aid by distracting Charles with asking about his magical backpack and you were free to roam the warehouse.

There were no more cats in sight for you to kick your frustrations out on, despite the warning gaze of the Cat King that appeared in your mind would they have been there. For what seemed like hours, the three of you waited for Edwin’s return, filling the time with mindless chatter and recounting past cases and answering any questions voiced by Crystal. Your skin crawled at the eerie feeling of the warehouse. It made you painfully aware of every sound or movement, waiting for the swarm of cats to come back and attack you. You equally dreaded and weirdly looked forward to seeing the Cat King again.

Finally, long after the sun had already gone up and spread its orange glow through the open doors of the warehouse, Edwin returned. The space didn’t make shivers travel down your spine anymore, but felt rather homely with the bright light. You and the others had settled down on a few crates nearby, but by the resounding crack and Edwin’s form suddenly visible through a cloud of purple, you jumped into action.

“Edwin!” shouted Charles, running over to him. “Where have you been?”

Edwin frowned at him. “Only been gone a few moments.”

“No, you’ve been gone for literal hours,” answered Charles, frowning as he tilted his head. “Are you all right, mate? 

You felt the hairs at the back of your neck rise in suspicion as you regarded him. “Where’s the Cat King?” you asked him, looking around as if the man would appear behind you at the mere mention of him.

“Probably where I left him, still scheming or something of the sort,” he muttered and glanced away with clear discomfort.

“And, um, what is that on your wrist?” added Crystal, drawing the attention to the hand that Edwin had raised. Gleaming, a golden bracelet shone on his wrist, the image of a cat eating its own tail. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Ouroboros. Usually, you enjoyed the symbol, but coming from the Cat King it just seemed like another slap in the face. Especially as it meant you were all now stuck in this damned town. Together with him and his scoundrel cats.

- - -

One. Ten. Twenty-four. Forty-six. Eighty-nine. One hundred. Eventually, Edwin’s count reached one hundred and thirty-seven. One hundred and thirty-seven cats in Port Townsend had been found so far. You would normally say it was impressive for only a few days of searching for cats, but this town seemed to be filled to the brim with them. You would have more trouble trying not to find a cat somewhere you went. God knew how long it could take to count them all. It didn’t help that trouble seemed to be extraordinarily good at finding the five of you, now with Niko within your midst. The stress was getting to you as you stood waiting outside the butcher shop, the bridge of your nose pinched between your fingers and your mind starting to imagine shadows following you out of the corner of your eye.

“One hundred and thirty-eight, one hundred and thirty-nine,” said Edwin from next to you, putting his fingers to his temple. You scoffed and gave the cat nearest to you a harsh glare. It jumped off the fence, after Edwin had counted it of course, and ran off around the corner.

You turned to Edwin. “Better get a hurry on with counting all those cats, mate. They’re everywhere.”

“What do you think I am doing, hm?” he asked, raising an eyebrow defiantly at you.

You gave him a glance over, noting that the book in his hand was not related to the case, but rather to astrology. It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, pointedly looking at the book. It seemed that he was not fully focused on the cat-counting but had other things on his mind—more specifically, other people on his mind. Edwin avoided your gaze with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat, just as Charles came out of the shop, with Crystal and Niko in tow.

“So,” started Charles, bringing his hands together, “Shall we get a crack on with the case, then?”

Edwin threw a brief glance in your direction and nodded promptly. He immediately put the book in Charles’ infinite book bag, ignoring the questioning glance he received from the other ghost. 

“Don’t forget to count the cats,” you said to him. He rolled his eyes and Charles smiled brightly, cocking his head and taking off along the street. Crystal glanced at you as you made to follow, immediately feeling better to be on the move. Niko bounded over to the other side of you, nudging your side.

“What’s got you so depressed?” she asked suddenly.

“I’m not depressed,” you muttered.

Crystal shook her head. “No, but you’re something. C’mon, you can tell us.”

Your glance jumped to the two ghosts ahead of you, making sure they were out of earshot before replying. “I don’t mean to blame Edwin or anything, but I really don’t like being stuck in this town.” Another shadow at the edge of your vision had you craning your neck only to see nothing there. “I just want him to count all the cats so we can get out of it.”

Crystal and Niko seemed to share a look you could not make out the meaning of.

“Why is that?” asked Crystal. You raised an eyebrow at her. “I mean, we all want to get out of this place before something more dangerous happens, but you’re in an unusual hurry.”

You sighed. “How do you know I’m not always in a hurry, Crystal? We haven’t known each other for that long, y’know.”

“No, something else is up,” she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Niko nudged your side again, piping in. “She’s right. I know I don’t know you that well either but you keep jumping at every cat you see. And in my opinion as a detective, that is very strange behaviour.”

You glared at her out of the corner of your eye, or as much of a glare you could muster to counter her bubbly smile. “Er—great detective work, Niko.”

Her smile widened.

“Fine.” You let out a long sigh, again making sure the dead boys could not hear you. “It’s just— I really don’t like cats. And I suppose the whole Cat King ordeal set me a bit on edge.”

“Huh.” Was all Crystal muttered before she shrugged and said, with as much nonchalance as possible, “Thought the Cat King would have something to do with it.”

You cocked your head in her direction. “And what do you mean by that?”

She shrugged again. “I’m not blind, y’know. I saw the way he was looking at you. And the way you were looking at him.”

“Ooh, do I sense some love in the air?” Niko let out a soft coo.

Your steps fully halted as your brain processed their words. Your surprised gawk turned into a scowl as you stared at them both. Love? Between you and the Cat King? What? Both Niko and Crystal had stopped when you did, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

“What? No. Absolutely-bloody-not,” you bit out venomously.

A deep breath later and your feet started moving faster than before, now wanting to outrun the conversation with the girls. But they matched your steps, albeit with a bit of difficulty,

“Come on, you can’t deny that he was definitely flirting with you,” teased Niko, sending a playful wink your way.

“Perhaps so.” You shrugged. “But I’m sure it was like any other usual game for him.”

“Maybe it was, but what if it wasn’t?”

You let out an annoyed sigh. “Even so, he’s the Cat King. And I hate cats. He literally stands for everything I despise.”

“So what you’re saying is that without the cat part you find him attractive?” Crystal said, her tone frustratingly implying something that was simply not there.

“Wha—that’s not what I’m saying! I—er,” You let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand down your face. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is that he’s the reason we’re all stuck in this town and that is reason enough to hate him.”

Your feet started moving faster to catch up with Charles and Edwin, thankfully escaping the row of questioning the girls had sent you through. What was even so interesting that they would feel the need to do that? All of it only to find out how much you hated cats, and the Cat King in association. Sure, he had looked at you with a glint in his eye, something that told you of hidden secrets untold, just laying in wait for someone to come and unravel him. And you had felt an unfamiliar warmth against your cheeks, something you hadn’t felt since you first met Charles and he had flirted with you—a crush that you had very quickly gotten over as soon as you noticed the lingering glances between him and Edwin, might you add. But it did not change the fact that the Cat King had trapped Edwin, and the rest of you, in Port Townsend—and that could not change your distaste for him.

“There it is,” Niko suddenly exclaimed from behind you. She was pointing to the large lighthouse in the distance. Point No Point Lighthouse. As your eyes flew to the top, you spotted a woman clad in a white gown climbing the fence.

“Hey,” said Crystal, feet starting to move hurriedly towards it. “Get down from there!”

Before any of you could even think to intervene, she had let go of the railing and plummeted to the water. Your head turned away from the sight when you heard the unintelligible splash of the waves as her body hit it. You dared open one eye to the lighthouse again, afraid that if you looked another human would spawn at the top only to fall to their death. Nothing of the sort was there. Instead, stood only a regular lighthouse, seemingly unaware of the tragedy that just took place.

“What the actual fuck?” you let out in a breath.

Ever so the detective, Edwin got to work immediately, as if he hadn’t just seen a woman take her own life. He started compiling questions to ask the ghosts of the leapers, who now sat at the stone fence facing the ocean. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted through your leg, causing you to cry out.

“Ow—bloody hell!” You looked down to see the cause for the sudden burning on your leg—a cat. You kicked the thing off of you, glaring at it as it ran away.

“One hundred and forty-two,” said Charles as soon as his eyes landed on the cat.

You looked to where the cat had disappeared—or rather not disappeared, as it had stopped at the corner of the path. It sat there, looking back at you expectantly. It was almost as if it was waiting, and you had a small hunch that it would not go away until you followed it. You let out a deep sigh and started walking towards it.

“Wait a tick, I’ll be right back,” you said, throwing one last glance behind you before following the cat.

“What was that about?” Crystal’s voice asked behind you. You could imagine the receiving shrug Charles gave her before you trudged away.

The longer you walked for, letting the cat lead the way through the winding forestry, the suspicion of where you were heading only grew. And a small part of you, as much as you hated to admit it, was intrigued to what you would find waiting for you. When you reached what seemed to be a lookout point made up of a stone ledge and a low fence surrounding the edge, you let out a deep sigh at the sight of the Cat King. He was laying on his side, one knee up in the air which showed off the skin on his legs that weren’t covered by white socks and a black skirt. His fur coat was open to reveal the golden shirt under it—which was painfully formfitting, as well. A roguish smile played on his lips as his eyes searched your figure up and down.

You scowled at him. “A note would suffice. The cat scratch was unnecessary.”

His eyebrows raised. “In my experience, guys like you enjoy a little bit of rough play, “ he said. He let his legs swing down and he sat up straight. A cat looking at his treat.

Your face twisted in disgust. “‘Guys like me’, what is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sure you can figure that out on your own.” He sent you a wink. It made you roll your eyes.

“Reckon you should bother Edwin with this instead? After all, he’s the one under your spell and counting your cats,” you said, taking a step forward and crossing your arms across your chest.

“I will deal with Edwin in due time,” replied the Cat King. He stood up to his full height, a tad taller than you, and started slowly walking towards you. “Right now, I would rather bother you.”

You watched him step closer, circling your body with the featherlight touch of his hand caressing your shoulder.

“Figures,” you muttered.

He came to a halt in front of you, one hand still on your shoulder. “Don’t you enjoy my company?” he asked in faux concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

You did not let yourself believe his play. “Not in the slightest.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt.” His hand moved to grasp his chest where his heart was—if he even had one, that is—and turned away from you. You did not miss the playful glint in his golden eyes.

“Sure, you are,” you said rather matter-of-factly. “For what it’s worth, Edwin’s counted one hundred and forty-two cats.”

The Cat King let out a dry bark of a laugh. “There are absolutely not one hundred and forty-two cats. That is not even nowhere close.”

You threw your arms out in exasperation. “Well, what do you expect when you give him such an impossible task?” you said as your glare hardened. “Is this all only to amuse you?”

“Yes.” His head tilted to the side as he seemed to analyse you. A pause. “And it gives me more time with you.”

Your lips pressed together to keep your reply quiet.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” His words flowed from his mouth like velvet and his smile was all too inviting.

“Clever,” you answered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

He shrugged and smiled coyly. “I try.”

When the eye contact became too painful for you to bear, your eyes glanced away into the faraway trees. You could see his proud smirk out of the corner of your eye and it made your frustration bubble up to the surface with a quickness and fierceness that surprised even you.

Your breath came out in one sharp burst as you turned to him again. “Look, this might all seem like one big game for you, but surprise!—it’s not. Being stuck in this mindless town could actually result in real danger coming to find us.” You forced him to meet your gaze with the seriousness of your voice. “We need to leave.”

But of course he could not stay serious for even one second. He simply waved away your words and smiled.“Oh, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure whatever trouble finds your way you are more than capable to deal with.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips. “Your opinion on whether I can handle it or not does not matter. Your opinion does not matter.”

The Cat King stopped in his motion, turning to face you fully. His head tilted to the side, golden eyes narrowed.“If it’s so dangerous for you here, why don’t you just leave? After all, you’re not the one bound to this town.”

“Er—” you began, but quickly shut your mouth. His words made you hesitate. You weren’t about spill your guts out to this complete stranger.

“I would make another ‘cat got your tongue’ joke but I don’t want to be redundant,” he said, still smiling. You watched him walk closer to you, one of his hands reaching to run up your chest before stopping to rest against the nape of your neck. The touch was warm and light, and you hated how you had to stop yourself from leaning into it. Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, he smiled and leant closer so that you could almost count the specks of orange in his golden eyes. “There’s something else that is keeping you here.”

“You’re despicable,” you spit out.

The Cat King simply tilted his head, almost as if in sympathy, before letting his finger run across your lips. “Tell me.”

You were too slow in pulling away from him, and his rough finger made contact. A cold sensation spread over your lips, not uncomfortable but tingling with unfamiliarity. You opened your mouth to spit out another insult but felt the words stick to your throat, like a stubborn mouthful of honey. You were unable to utter them. Instead, as if someone had reached down your throat and pulled the words right out of your heart, the truth tumbled out.

“I—I owe Charles and Edwin my life.”

The Cat King’s eyes widened and his smile turned into a frown.

“Oh, that’s not what I expected.”

As easily as the earlier words had come out, the rest of the truth poured out of your lips as well. “Without them, I would have died back in London.” You took a shaky breath, glancing away from the Cat King’s demanding gaze. “I thought it only fair to help them with their cases and save other lives. Well, ghost lives.”

He nodded, seeming to think about your words. Then, his smile returned, sly as ever. “Hm, and are you sure a part of you staying here is also not because you are intrigued by me?”

You were unable to stop the laugh that escaped you. “By you? Fuck no. By this situation? Slightly. But now I’ve found out you’re only a pathetic man who likes to play games because daddy didn’t give him enough attention as a child.” You walked closer to him as you spoke, a finger jabbing his chest to punctuate your point.

“Okay, wow, a bit hurtful, don’t y—”

“You’re the furthest from any reason to stay in this town,” you bit out. The truth wouldn’t stop. You kept on walking, forcing him backwards. His smile had slipped completely and some part of you felt grimly satisfied at seeing his facade crumble. “I would never fancy the sorts of you. Please get that through your head, you arrogant arsehole.”

“Oh.” Was all he responded with. His face seemed to have fallen a bit, and he was avoiding your eye, but with the usual grimace he kept on his lips you couldn’t be sure. With a wave of his fingers, the spell that had latched upon your lips dispersed into the air without so much as a trace. “Okay. Well, I won’t bother you much more then.”

You nodded numbly, turning to walk away.

The sound of his deep voice halted your steps.“Just remember to tell Edwin to keep counting the cats.”

You nodded again while letting your feet show you the way back. Your mind couldn’t let go of the Cat King’s face when you had told him off. It had felt wrong coming out of your mouth, even though the thoughts had felt completely right while in your head. And you knew they were truthful, thanks to the spell, but even then it had surprised you how much distaste you held for the man. And the simple fact of uttering those words to the Cat King’s face made them turn sour on your tongue. They left a bad aftertaste in your mouth, not unlike when you would forget to brush your teeth in the morning and could practically feel them rotting away.

It made you feel weirdly uncomfortable on the walk back to the others. You weren’t sure on the fact that you did not regret the words, and you weren’t sure if they were entirely so truthful anymore.

- - -

The following days trudged by slowly. Case after case distracted your mind from your earlier interaction with the Cat King, but the thought of it never fully disappeared. Had you been too harsh? No, he was a fully grown man, he could take a bit of criticism.

But despite this, your mind was painfully reminded of him every time you went outside. Before meeting him at the lighthouse, you could spot a cat on every corner of the town, making it remarkably easy for Edwin to get his count of cats into the hundreds. After, there was none to be seen, at all. You thought you had seen the tip of a cat’s tail disappearing around a street corner the other day but other than that, the Cat King had kept his promise of not bothering you—which had apparently extended to all of his cats. Somehow, that bothered you more and even made you miss the creeping bastards.

“Still one hundred and forty-two!” complained Edwin, throwing himself into a nearby armchair. “I’ve yet to see even one more cat since that lighthouse case. How am I supposed to count more cats when I can’t find any more of them?”

Charles’ brows furrowed and he turned to you. “What more did the Cat King say when you met him?”

You had told them of your interaction with the Cat King—well, not the full truth of it. But the barest minimum so that they could get the gist of it. Now, they were all looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, er, that was all, really.” You shrugged. “Just that there were more cats and to tell Edwin to keep counting.”

The answer seemed unsatisfying to Edwin, but there was not much more he could do. He merely shrugged and gestured for Charles to go on with the current case, something about two football players who had been murdered. Without thinking, you opened your mouth.

“I could go talk to him.”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“Yeah, what?” Crystal repeated, her narrowed eyes seeming to scrutinise you.

You screwed your eyes up in frustration, internally cursing at yourself. “I just meant that if there are no cats to be counted we can’t get rid of that bracelet, can we? So, I just thought that if Edwin can’t find any there must be a reason for it. I can go talk to him—to the Cat King, I mean.”

They all shared a hesitant glance.

“I don’t know,” said Charles. “He’s probably just playing another game with us.”

“Yeah,” chimed Crystal in. “I don’t trust him.”

You sighed. “Me neither, but we can either wait and hope for the best before something else comes and drags you back to the afterlife, or we can try to take care of it so we can get out of this town.”

“He does have a point,” said Edwin, head resting in his hand.

Crystal stood up from her seat, nodding in your direction. “Okay, but I’m coming with you.”

“No!” you said, before clearing your throat when she glared at you. “I just mean that you are needed for this case, is all. I’ll be OK.”

Her gaze was scrutinising and you had to fight not to fidget under it. Even though you had no ulterior motives, her glare made you want to admit the ones she obviously thought she could sense in your mind. “Fine,” she finally said, sitting down again.

Edwin gave you a curt nod before looking down at his notebook. Charles held your gaze for longer.

“Be careful,” he said.

You tried your best to send him your most convincing smile, but you had a feeling he wasn’t buying it. “Always am.”

With those words, you turned on your heel and started walking in the direction of the Cat King’s hideout. Your initial impression of it still remained strong—that it seemed very rundown for a so-called King. Now knowing the Cat King, you would have expected something much more glamorous and proper for his home. 

Walking inside the warehouse, you noted that it was shockingly empty. Completely void of any signs of cats and the Cat King nowhere to be found. A small part of you was mildly relieved by the absence of them, but the emptiness filled you with an eerie chill. You picked your way around the space, trying to find any other place he could be hiding. It led you to a door you had not noticed before, surprising considering the intricacy of it. You grasped the golden handle and slowly wedged the door open, peering in carefully. You weren’t sure what you would find, but would rather not be caught off guard.

As soon as the door had been opened, a cat slipped through the small gap, making you jump back in surprise. The red light from the room coloured the floor and after a quick breath, you collected yourself enough to walk through, ready for any more cats who might have been hiding inside.

The first thing you saw was the big glowing neon light on the wall, the crown shining a bright red and a cyan ring surrounding it. It was almost mesmerizing in its simplicity and bathed the room in its colours. The second thing that drew your eye was the half-naked body of the Cat King. He was sprawled back on a circular bed, his legs tangled into the dark sheets and his robe casually hanging off one shoulder. His abs were on full display and it took every ounce of your willpower to ignore the flip your stomach made at the sight and raise your eyes to his face. His was turned away, eyes closed and seemingly oblivious to your presence. It allowed you to drink in every small detail of him under the neon lights, eyes jumping from the heaving of his chest, to the small scar on his lip, to his messed up hair and lingering all too long on the edge between his exposed skin and boxers. The whole sight seemed so perfect to you, you could almost believe it was effortless on his behalf.

“Fucking hell, Thomas,” he muttered quietly to himself, rubbing a hand over his eyes and growling out a sigh.

But then his eyes opened and found you, skulking in the shadows like an uninvited guest. You did not feel far off from some kind of pervert, especially when his display had caused warmth to pool in your gut and your cheeks definitely a shade darker than before. His eyes widened, and before he had time to try to cover up or say something you stepped forward into the light.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb.”

You tried desperately not to let your eyes wander south of his face, but it was difficult. He was the Cat King, yes, which meant he was an arse—and what else you had called him only a few days earlier. But bathed under the light like this and without having said anything stupid, you also realised he was hot. So bloody hot. So you swallowed and stepped even closer, suddenly nervously aware of yourself in comparison to him.

His head tilted and he sat up in a cross legged position, the robe almost falling off of him before he caught it and hung it on his shoulder again. A part of you wished he had let it go.

The Cat King glanced around before answering. “No worries, I, uh—I was not expecting you. It’s usually not this messy.”

Your brows furrowed in question and he cocked his head to the side of the room. It was first then that you realised the room was a fucking mess. Old takeout food had been left around, clothes strewn across the place and a few random cat toys laying around. You hadn’t even noticed it before due to the distraction that was the Cat King. As you met his gaze again he looked at you weirdly, eyes scrunched and brows knit together. It made you want to scratch at the shivers that traveled down your spine, weirdly self conscious under his pinned gaze. Then he shook his head and that easy smile was spread across his lips again. It seemed more empty though, but you could never be sure when it came to him.

“Not that I am complaining. Thought I wouldn’t see you again, so this is definitely a welcome change,” he said, leaning back on his elbows again. His knee was lifted into the air, swaying back and forth the same way a cat’s tail would when it was playing with its victim.

You tried to ignore the scratching at your throat and burning ears, meeting the Cat King’s gaze. “That’s why I came here. You have been avoiding m—us.”

If he noticed your slip up, he didn’t comment on it. He simply sighed and stood up from his bed. “You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me. So, as long as you are in this town, you won’t see me around.”

You watched him walk around the room, gathering the old boxes and throwing them into a rubbish bin. “I didn’t think that would apply to your cats as well.”

He halted, with his back to you, but you could clearly discern the tension in his shoulder. Then he released a deep sigh and angled his head towards the ceiling. “You noticed, then.”

“Of course, we noticed! Without counting all your cats, we’re still stuck here,” you said, arms crossed over your chest. “Something I don’t think you really mind.”

He tilted his head back to look at you over his shoulder, and right then and there it hit you how beautiful his eyes were. Deep swirling pools of gold, reflecting the neon crown beside him, and holding more secrets than you could ever try to figure out during your lifetime. He smiled, but it was different than how his other smiles were. This one didn’t made crows feet appear around his eyes or dimples in his cheeks. And it seemed sad, almost, in the way it couldn’t reach his dark eyes. It was gone as quick as it had appeared.

“I’ll allow them outside again for Edwin to count,” came his reply. You didn’t know whether to thank him for something he should already be doing or just leave. You settled on the former.

“Thank you. Er, it’s very kind of you.”

He turned back around, tilting his head. “Sure.”

You stood still for a moment, unsure of whether to leave or say something else. You could feel the tension in the air, something hanging heavy between you but unable to place your finger on what. After a moment, the Cat King sighed and plopped himself down on his bed.

“Will you please leave me to my self wallowing in peace?” he asked, a tone of sarcasm lacing his words. “I’d rather not have an audience.”

You didn’t trust your voice to speak for you. Only glancing back at him briefly, eyes traveling over his figure one last time and then hastily leaving the room. You thought you saw him deflate, as if he had been hoping for you to do the opposite of what he’d asked. You shook the thought away.

Finally outside the room, it was then that you could breathe freely and relax, his eyes no longer bearing into you. You could only hope that you hadn’t made a fool of yourself—or if you had, that the image wouldn’t last too long in his memory. The image of him, though, sprawled across the bed, had been seared into your mind and did not seem to be able to leave your thoughts. The way his voice had lowered when he thought he was the only audience to himself, that deep grovel in his voice that had your cheeks warming up instantly. You could almost imagine him speaking into your ear that way, whispering filthy things and pulling your waist closer to him.

You blinked the thoughts away, mildly surprised at the appearance of them. The other part of you knew why they were there and a solemn dread washed upon you. Bloody hell. You were attracted to the Cat King.

- - -

Fuck, he thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why did you need to have gone to see him?

Thomas was humiliated. Every time he had met you, every move of his had been calculated. His outfit, always carefully curated to show off enough of him without being slutty. His hair, styled to frame his face and curled beautifully to make his eyes glow. His smile, ever so roguishly handsome to seem alluring yet mysterious. And his words always thought out before they left his mouth.

But after that afternoon at the lighthouse when he had finally found out how you felt, he hadn’t been bothered to care. And now you had seen him like that; a complete mess. He couldn’t get the image of you standing in his room out of his head, looking as handsome as ever, your head tilted to the side. It was impossible to discern your thoughts through those deep eyes. Had he proven you right—shown you that he really was as disgusting and despicable as you thought? Did you still hate him?

Of course you did. What a silly question. There was no point wondering. Even if he couldn’t read your mind he was quite certain what thoughts would have been running through your head—‘What a mess’, ‘I can’t believe how pathetic he is’, ‘I am so glad to be rid of him’. Your conversation had made it clear to him that you wanted nothing to do with him.

He rubbed a hand across his face, body still splayed across his bed. Gods. You had rejected him and still he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What was wrong with him?

He couldn’t believe himself. Thomas had only thought it a game between you two. Of course, he was infatuated with you, but he would never have imagined that you weren’t enjoying the play between the two of you. Hearing your brutally honest thoughts of him had stumped that belief. However ridiculous that belief had been.

And now—now, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

Thomas couldn’t keep wallowing in his den of self-pity, that was for certain. Despite your rejection, he could not let that defer him from projecting his most amazing self. He shook the cat off his lap and rose to his full height, taking in the mess around him. How could he so easily have let you affect him? Who was he kidding, of course he knew how. The moment his eyes had landed on you, he knew it was over for him. That easy smile, your deep gaze, the way you held yourself. How could he not have fallen?

He had done everything in his power to try to win you over—well the only way he knew how. And it hadn’t been enough. He wasn’t enough. The thought hurt him more than he cared to admit. Your rejection hurt him more than he cared to admit.

He had focused so much on you ever since he met you that now he didn’t know what to do. He would return to his usual self and life, he supposed, but he knew his thoughts wouldn’t let you go so easily. When putting together his outfit, he couldn’t help but question what you would think of it—or more important, of him in it.

Dammit. He had to stop thinking about you or he would never be able to go on with his usual life. He had a mission to do and a certain ghost to help. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let thoughts of you stray him away.

- - -

The thought of the Cat King would not leave your head. Ever since that day, seeing him like that, and coming to the realisation that you indeed fancied him, you had not been able to get him out of your mind. It was infuriating how easy your thoughts returned to him at even the slightest reminder. Even if the sun reflected a certain colour of gold in water, the image of his beautiful eyes would be brought forth.

You were quite sure you had been able to hide your growing attraction for him, though. The Cat King himself had not bothered you any more and the rest of the Dead Boy Detective Agency had not caught on either—what you knew of, at least. Crystal had not hinted at anything more and neither had Niko, and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or disappointed by the fact.

It did not matter, you decided, because you had been fully occupied by the case at hand. The boys were in especial danger from this species of ghost-eating fungus, which made you nervous for their sake. Even though you had not been with them for very long, they had accepted you into their Agency despite you not being dead and you cared for them deeply because of it. You weren’t used to worrying for them, since they were already dead, so this case had been very strange for you. It did not help that the darkening woods seemed especially sinister and suffocating, as if they were closing in on you. You had chosen to walk alone amongst the trees, but you were beginning to regret it.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice said behind you.

You turned, looking into the dim light and seeing the Cat King standing amongst the trees, looking right at you. You weren’t prepared for how heavy his gaze would feel after seeing him that last time in his den, but you tried your best not to let it affect you.

“Er—hi,” you said as indifferently as you were able to.

One of his eyebrows raised. “I thought Edwin would be here.”

Oh. Of course, he was here for Edwin. Not for you. Not that you wanted him to, you had made it perfectly clear you didn’t want anything to do with him. Then why did a pang of hurt suddenly hit you in your chest?

“He was, you just missed him.”

“Ah,” he said with a sigh. Was he disappointed or relieved? “Well, I should go find him, I have to help him.”

Your eyebrow raised. “How could you help him? So far you’ve been nothing but trouble for us,” you said and immediately noticed his crestfallen gaze. Part of you regretted your words, but it was so easy to fall back into your familiar insults.

He exhaled slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Not that it is any of your concern, but I am actually not the asshole you make me out to be.”

You took a moment to let your gaze sweep over him. He was dressed smartly, his outfit outlining his figure as perfectly as ever. His golden eyes shone in the faint light, the sky growing darker with every minute, and you hated to admit how good the light looked on him. The only thing out of the ordinary was his faint fidgeting, his fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt, almost as if self conscious. Other than that, there were no traces left of the man you had seen wallowing in his bed.

The thought of that day brought the picture of him to your mind and you couldn’t help but let your eyes jump down his chest, where you knew his perfectly toned abs were hiding beneath his shirt. At that, you also remembered how good he had looked. You felt blood rush to your cheeks at the thoughts that suddenly rushed your mind and you forced your gaze away from him, trying to smother them.

The Cat King’s eyes narrowed at your reaction, but he didn’t question you further. He stayed silent, letting you speak first.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting the words. “What?”

“Sorry for being so harsh,” you said again, meeting his gaze. “I appreciate that you’ve allowed your cats out to be counted by Edwin again.”

His head tilted to the side, not seeming to believe your words. “But as you said before, it’s my fault you’re even stuck in this town to begin with.”

“Are you trying to make me angry at you again?” You raised an eyebrow in mock frustration.

The Cat King spoke the next words quietly, mostly to himself, but it was loud enough for you to catch them. “I’m not sure I could make you hate me more than you already do.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in real confusion. While you may have claimed your distaste for the man earlier, all you could feel for him now, looking at his handsome face, was a warmth pooling in your stomach.

“I don’t hate you,” you said.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. He rolled his eyes. “I heard you before. Just stop playing with me.”

Your eyes narrowed and you tilted your head in thought. He avoided your gaze, his brows furrowed in discomfort, but he seemed strangely vulnerable in his words.

“I would have thought that the Cat King would love playing games.”

“Not when it comes to my feelings,” he said. “And it’s Thomas.”

“What is?”

“My name.”

“Thomas,” you tasted the word gently, letting the name drip off your tongue. You didn’t miss the way the Ca—Thomas shuddered and looked away at the sound. Could you really have that much impact on him? The thought stirred something inside of you—a strange excitement, of sorts. You took a hesitant step towards him. Then another, and another.

“Please, stop,” said Thomas quietly. He had closed his eyes. Then he added, as if an afterthought, “I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Handle what?” You knew what he meant, but you wanted to get to the bottom of this. The warmth that had pooled in your stomach when you first saw him shirtless had not left you, and you only felt yourself growing hotter by each step you took closer to him.

He let out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. “Are you really going to make me spell this out for you? It’s bad enough knowing you don’t feel anything for me without you tormenting me like this.”

Some part of your heart pulled at his words and the wounded look he was giving you. It led you to let out the words, “How can you be sure?”

“I asked you, remember?” He said it as if it was obvious. “And while your answer was harsh it was quite truthful.”

Your head tilted to the side. You knew what he thought you felt for him, but judging by the fire which flared every time you looked at him, you knew you did not feel the same as before. Every little look he spared your way filled you with warmth and you wanted nothing more than to step into his embrace.

So, you said, coyly, “Ask me again.”

“What?”

“I said, ask me again.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at your words. He must have thought it to be useless to hear your thoughts again, but he nonetheless drew a finger against your lips, the touch soft and warm. You felt the corner of your lips draw into a smile, but kept it from emerging. You met his steady gaze, waiting patiently.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” he sighed. When you kept silent and stared intently into his eye, he opened his mouth again. “What do you feel for me?”

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened in sync with his. You were not prepared for those words to leave your mouth—you didn’t even know you felt that deeply for him. By the looks of it, neither did Thomas. His mouth opened and closed few times, trying to get any words out—or even any sounds. He eventually just settled with a slight gape to his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the question written clearly across his face.

The secret was out, you reckoned, so no point in turning back. When your lips curled into a soft smirk, he started fidgeting with his sleeve again and looked away furtively. It was adorable how nervous he was. Your hand reached out gently, grasping his cheek and forcing him to meet your gaze.

“No point in denying it now. I love you,” you repeated, gaze jumping between his golden eyes.

Finally, he managed to clear his throat and croak out an answer, “I must admit I am surprised. Sure, I hoped you felt some attraction for me, but love? That’s heavy.” He looked away again from the weight of your gaze.

You shrugged as your smirk widened. “What can I say? Somehow your stupid smile must’ve charmed me.”

That made Thomas’ gaze jump back to you within a heartbeat. “Oh, so it’s stupid now? I thought you loved it,” he said with an easy smile playing against his lips. It was infuriating how good it looked on him.

“Please shut up before I regret ever speaking to you.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to take a step back.

His arm reached out immediately, curling around your waist and pulling him closer to you. His strong embrace did things to you that you were not ready to admit, and you had to fight the nervous exhale that tried to crawl out of you.

Thomas smiled deviously, lowering his voice to a mutter and spoke softly into your ear, “How about you make me?”

His voice made shivers erupt across your skin and you tried not to fidget in his grasp. You pulled away to glance into his golden eyes before letting your gaze jump to his lips. He noted your gaze and his smile widened even further. You were not sure if you could take another of his cheeky remarks and swiftly closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, one full of emotion.

Thomas practically growled in your ear as he kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, his hands gripping your waist harshly. You were sure there would be marks there later, but right then and there you could not care less. Your arms made their way across his back and up his shoulders. He groaned as you tightened your grip on his shoulders, then pulled back slightly, breathless. You could see how dilated his pupils were, and the sight practically drove you insane.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you,” he whispered, his lips peppering soft kisses across your jaw.

His lips returned to yours, hungry and greedy. It was as if he was a starving man and you were the only thing keeping him alive. His lips left yours, but only for a fraction of a moment before they’re on your neck, kissing you. You arched against him as he gently bit your neck, throwing your head back to give him easier access.

“Thomas—” you let out a breathless moan, his name bleeding from your tongue.

The sound of his name on your lips ignited a new passion in him, as he started kissing your skin more fervently. His lips never left your skin for more than a second, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying him immensely.

“I’ve never liked my name more than when you say it,” he said.

You released a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure you love the sound of your own name.”

He pulled back to meet your gaze with an arched eyebrow. “Okay, now you’re just being unfair.”

“What are you going to do about it?” you whispered, leaning closer while a smile spread against your lips.

In a moment, his mouth was on yours again. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, an urgency to his movements as his lips parted yours. He easily gave entrance for your tongue to enter his mouth, the taste of him better than you could have ever imagined. He pulled your hips to his, and he gently bit at your bottom lip. Then, he pulled away again, releasing a deep exhale with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Now, the cat really did get your tongue.”

Your stare was heavy as the dead when you met his eyes. “I will walk away, right now, with no hesitation if you say anything like that again.”

His arms circled you and pulled you even closer, his lips tugging upwards despite your words. “Okay, I’ll shut up.”

Your lips met his again before he pulled away, his gaze furtively jumping around. He seemed suddenly nervous as he struggled to get out his words again.

“I—” he started, before closing his mouth again. You gently pressed your lips against his cheek before he took a deep breath and met your gaze. “I want to say it back. Y’know, ‘cause I do feel things for you. It’s just—”

You smiled when you understood what he was hinting at. “Don’t worry about it. Take your time,” you said, your thumb rubbing against his cheek. He leant into the touch, kissing your palm and almost closing his eyes. “I was not looking for validation when I said what I said, but just so you would know how I felt.”

He smiled at your words, nodding. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Your lips formed into a smirk. “Besides, it won’t be long before you’re bloody smitten with my charm, either.”

“Who’s the arrogant asshole now, huh?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. 

You sucked in a breath, tilting your head. “I like to think I’m confident.”

Thomas just let out a dry chuckle, before capturing your lips again. He moved slowly against you, savouring the taste. You let out a low groan, pulling him closer and smiling into the kiss. He released your lips for a moment to whisper against them.

“So, you don’t hate cats anymore?” he asked.

You pulled away further to look him in the eye. “Eh, well, I never said that,” you said. He gave you a pointed glare and you opened your mouth again. “But, they might as well grow on me. Who knows? You did.”

His smile was all the answer you needed as you kissed him once again. You didn’t think you would ever get sick of doing that. And neither would he, judging by the way he was holding you so tightly.

“No, wait,” said Charles. “I know that look.”

Another ghost case had just come up that required the detectives to investigate the forest near the town, which may or may not be filled with monstrous ghost-eating giant mushrooms. Upon hearing it, your eyes had immediately shifted to Charles. Both with concern, because this seemed to be an especially dangerous case for him as a ghost, but also with curiosity.

Thus far, Charles had shot down all your attempts at helping with cases, but you wouldn’t let it deter your spirit. Being alive gave you opportunities that Charles and Edwin didn’t have, them being ghosts, which would make you a great addition to their mystery solving. If it weren’t for Charles, that is. For some reason, he kept denying your requests to help them, but he still let Crystal and Niko help out when they could. It made you infuriated at him.

Which is why, this time, you wouldn’t let him decide for you this time.

“No, no!” Charles voice shouted as you stormed past him. “Bloody hell, wait!”

You ignored his attempts at stopping you, his hand merely leaving a a feather of a touch on your arm. You hurried into the flat you shared with Crystal and Niko, moving to your room. The girls watched you move past, glancing between you and Charles as he kept shouting after you.

“You’re not coming with!”

You turned swiftly on your heel, coming face to face with him. “Yes, I am!” you shouted right back. Charles was thrown by the sudden shift and fell back a step as to not crash into you, but when he gathered his bearings, his face hardened once again.

“I won’t allow it,” he said through gritted teeth.

You scoffed, breathing hard. “You won’t allow it?” You almost did not believe your ears.

“That’s right!” said Charles again. He really was 

You took a deep breath, meeting his glare with a deadened stare of your own. “Charles, you’re being unreasonable,” you said.

Edwin, having popped through the wall suddenly, cleared his throat. “I kind of agree with them. Charles, they can handle themselves,” he said.

“Thank you, Edwin!” you replied, as he nodded in your direction. “At least someone has common sense around here.”

Charles bit his lips together in a frustrated sigh, turning to your spectators. “Okay, ahh, could we please have a moment alone?” he asked. Edwin nodded curtly and walked through the wall again, the girls turning on their heels and closing the door behind them. “Thank you.”

You waited for everyone to leave the room before speaking. “What is up with you, Charles?”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“What, don’t want me around?” you snapped, glaring at him and throwing out your arms in exasperation. “You could’ve just said that outright without bothering with this ridiculous back and forth we’ve been doing.”

“No, that’s not it!” he countered, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I do want you around, it’s just that—”

When he trailed off again, you snapped. “What, Charles? What?” you bit out.

“I’m worried about you, okay!” he finally exclaimed, his voice almost shouting at this point.

The words gave you pause. You stared at his shifting stance, his hands wringing together and his gaze jumping all over the room: he was clearly nervous. “You’re worried about me?” you asked, a bit incredulous.

“Yes, is that so terrible?” he admitted, meeting your gaze.

You sighed, now your turn to avoid his heavy gaze. “No. But I don’t want to be sidelined just because you don’t think I can handle myself, which I can!” you added.

“I know that. Of course, I know that,” said Charles, stepping closer. “But still, I just can’t help but think of what would happen if you got hurt and how I don’t know how I could handle it.”

You flashed him a crooked smile despite the circumstances. “That is kind of sweet, I have to admit.” You also stepped closer to him. “I had no idea you cared so much about me.”

“Of course I care about you.” Charles let out a dry chuckle. “I, er, care about you a lot, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, how could I not? You’re aces,” he replied with that usual smile of his.

“Is that all I am?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow as your smile grew.

“Of course not, you are incredible.” Then, he sighed, glancing away. “But I still can’t help but be worried for you.”

You let the corners of your lips lifting. “I know I should still be angry, but that is actually really sweet of you.”

Charles’ eyes softened as he stepped closer. His hands made their way down your arms, taking your hands in his with his barely-there touch. It still felt weird to you, after all this time, to be touched by a ghost who could not really touch you. But still, it was comforting,

Suddenly, he hissed and jumped away, cradling one of his hands with the other as if he had just been burned. Which, he kind of had been. Before meeting the boys, you used to love to adorn your fingers with rings. And not just any rings, but rings made of iron. After finding out that the material burned the ghosts, however, you made sure not to wear any iron jewellery in their presence. You didn’t want to hurt them, after all, and you wanted to be able to be close to them. Well, until now, when it worked in your favour and did the opposite.

Charles glared at your hand as if it had personally offended him, and saw the glint of the ring that you had slipped onto your finger before taking his hands in yours. Then his eyes lifted to glare at you, a mix of hurt and confusion swirling in those pools of deep brown. He tilted his head as a way to demand an explanation.

“It is really sweet of you,” you admitted, letting out a sigh. That wasn’t the problem, though. “But that doesn’t mean that I won’t help just because you’re worried I can’t take care of myself.”

Despite his sweetness, Charles could be a tad overprotective. He felt that it was his personal mission to protect everyone around him and that it was he who had to make sure everybody came home unscathed—no matter if they could take care of themselves or not. You knew that, so you also knew that Charles would not be okay with you going with them and that he would try to stop you any way he could.

The iron took away one way from him.

It was kind of low of you, you knew that. On the other hand, Charles had once locked you inside your room to keep you from coming with on a mission—courtesy of some of his ghost powers. If he got to play dirty to keep you from the cases, you got to play dirty to get on the cases.

Charles protests were met with deaf ears as he watched you turn around, reaching for the rest of your jewellery. He watched you put on all the rings you owned, even stacking multiple on one finger to be sure. Next, you put on the iron necklaces you owned, which weren’t many, but enough to keep Charles a foot away from you. He stood, watching warily as you worked methodically, cringing slightly at each added jewellery.

He knew he was being paranoid and overtly protective, but he couldn’t help it. It was you. He would do anything to keep you from harm, even denying you the cases that you so desperately wanted to follow along with. If you were angry with him, fine, that he could handle. As long as you were safe.

Now, though, he could do nothing but watch you put on more and more iron jewellery, each one adding an extra layer of protection—from him. Intervening now would mean serious burns for him, which he considered for a moment before deciding against it. It would be madness to even try to reach out now at you. He could almost feel the heat of the metal pulsing in the air around you, and the thought made him uncomfortable.

You put in the final iron earring you could find, as you had gotten your ears pierced for it years ago, before turning to Charles with a satisfied smile. There was no way he could stop you now.

Charles opened his mouth, as if to protest some more, before sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “There really is no arguing with you, is there?”

“No.”

“Fine, then,” he admitted, turning to the door to walk out of it. “Just make sure to not get hurt. Because if anything happens, I can’t even go near you to help you.”

You nodded to let him know that you had heard and smiled to yourself. Finally you would be coming with on one of their cases. Even though the measures were a tad drastic, you made sure to always keep one iron ring on you from now on in case a situation like this would ever come up again.

Charles was awfully cold towards you for the rest of the day, but you figured it was just because he was angry that he had not gotten his way. Let him throw his little temper tantrum, you thought. The thoughts of him left you oddly distracted during the case and you actually did end up getting hurt, albeit not seriously. It did not matter.

The moment Charles heard you scream out in pain, one of the mushrooms veins having slashed across the skin on your leg, he rushed over to you.

“Wait,” you tried to protest, pushing him away. “Charles, the iron!”

“I don’t care,” he spit out, pushing himself closer into your personal space again.

You could tell from his grimaced expression that the iron was hurting him, and how he gritted his teeth in pain. As he tried to bind a clean cloth around the bleeding wound in your leg, you hurried to remove and throw away the iron jewellery you were wearing. It was burning him less and less, you noticed, the more of it you removed, but you didn’t stop until the last of the rings were laying far away.

He wasn’t sweating anymore, nor closing his eyes in pain, but he was panting heavily, as if having exerted himself greatly. You supposed he had, you thought with guilt. That must have been very painful for him, you realised. And yet, he refused to not help you when you needed him, despite his earlier words.

“Thought you said you wouldn’t be able to go near me with all this iron?” you asked, your voice low.

Charles sighed, his eyes closing for a moment before he answered. “I did. But, not to sound corny, you’re worth all the pain in the world.”

“That was corny,” you said, a soft smile on your lips.

He let out a breathy chuckle and you met his heavy gaze, your hand reaching out to caress his cheek. He leant into the touch slightly, as if he could actually feel it, and your eyes seemed to do all the talking for you because he didn’t prompt you to say anything. You were grateful for that, and for him taking care of you.

Even iron could not truly keep Charles away from you. The thought filled you with warmth.

Drivin' on the right-side road He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Charles had a habit of taking everything lightly and making jokes to play off serious situations, something that could bother you at times.

The first time you met, for instance, was one of those times.

You were driving down the road of your little town and had to slam the brakes as to not run over the incredibly handsome, but incredibly stupid, boy that had just tried to cross the road.

You had honked at him and he looked up in surprise before immediately being pulled back by the hands of a red-headed girl. He broke out in a grin as you drove off with a scoff, internally cursing him.

The next time you saw him was only later that same day, surprisingly at your family friend’s, and the local butcher’s, shop.

You had walked in an immediately let out a sigh of annoyance, one of which he heard and turned around with that same grin plastered on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy with a death wish,” you muttered, ignoring him and his friends to go up to the counter. Unluckily for you, Jenny was not there.

The boy scratched his neck bashfully. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot you lot drive on the right side of the road, which is technically the wrong side of the road. Just wasn’t looking.”

An eyebrow raised in his direction. English.

He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “The name’s Charles. Pleased to meet you.”

You took it as a shiver ran up your spine, weirdly so cold to the touch he felt warm. It was the first time you managed to get a proper look at him, admiring his stylish clothes and sharp features. And his eyes were as warm as his hand was, deep swirling pools of darkness that seemed to emit nothing but light. You smiled back, introducing yourself.

“Pleasure. And this is Edwin, Crystal, and Niko,” he introduced his friends behind him, who all gave you a smile except for the uptight-looking Edwin.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it,” you said, turning back to the counter as Jenny came out. You handed her the keys to the car with a wink. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Jenny. Told you I would return it without a scratch.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “That is left to be seen, kiddo.”

You were about to turn around just when you caught the end of the other teenagers’ conversation. “Did you guys just say ‘Point No Point?” you asked and swivelled around to face them.

Niko nodded enthusiastically, briefly glancing at the boys. “Yeah, we’re going there for a—um, to meet someone there.”

“That’ll take ages without a car,” you remarked.

Crystal sighed. “Well, I can’t drive. How are we gonna get there?”

Your lips lifted into the beginning of a smirk as you turned back to Jenny. She heaved a deep sigh and threw back the keys into your hands.

Your smile broke out as you thanked her and motioned for the others to follow you. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

Charles insisted on sitting in the front seat beside you, his feet up on the dashboard, tapping his finger along to the music in the car. You thought it was oddly charming.

You had asked what their whole deal was and Niko had inevitably revealed that they were the Dead Boy Detectives and that Charles was, in fact, dead. Upon hearing it, you almost slammed the breaks again in pure shock but managed to keep driving as if nothing.

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American

It also started raining on your way there, making you groan in frustration as you remarked that “all this water is going to get Jenny’s car so muddy.”

“‘Wa-der,’” he had chuckled under his breath.

In an instant, you had turned to him with a harsh glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” came his amused reply. “You’re just so American.”

It wasn’t nothing, though. It was the first of many remarks against your American accent.

You had arrived at the lighthouse and very warily gotten out of the car. Somehow you had gotten roped up in their case and was now there to help them out through the end.

Charles had noticed your shivering in the cold rain and offered you his jacket which, despite ghost physics, was quite heavy and warm. You supposed ghosts couldn’t really get wet by normal rain, as both Edwin and Charles seemed unbothered by it.

You had tried to argue against taking it, claiming that you wouldn’t want to ‘strip him of any of his Britishness’, to which he had only scoffed and heaved the thing onto you while saying, “so American of you to assume my Britishness can be stripped away merely by my coat.”

Charles had then given you an appraising look and, while the others were distracted by the ghosts on the pier, bent down slightly to say, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.”

Your cheeks had warmed immediately and you’d turned away to not give it away, earning a chuckle. It made you smile though.

He learnt quickly that complimenting you would earn him a blush and a soft nudge against his ribcage, which made him do it even more.

That was also when he liked pointing out your accent. It started as a small observation, but eventually evolved into insults and bits.

He did it every chance he got; saying ‘lit-er-ally’ with an over-exaggerated vocal fry; ‘aloominum’; ‘hey, y’all’; and, his absolute favourite of them all, ‘i’m walkin here!’. Half of them made you laugh incessantly and the other half made you drag a hand over your face in frustration.

The worst was when he would parrot you personally, making you half wondering if you should be ashamed of your accent. When you had asked him about it, though, he had been quick to assure you that he loved your accent.

And that was when you started doing it back to him.

It became a game for the two of you, often just imitating each other’s accents.

“Are you ‘schewpid’?” you asked, turning to him.

He chuckled dryly, cocking his head in your direction. “Yeah, yeah, while you’re throwing insults at me I am just going to go grab a ‘kawfee’.”

You scoffed. “You’re a ghost, Charles. You can’t have coffee.”

“I can, but it just tastes disgusting.”

“Okay, well, while you’re at it, ‘kan I please ‘ave a cupa wa’a’?” you said, meeting his defiant gaze before he  burst out in laughter. It made your insides warm knowing you were the cause of that laugh.

“Would you two please stop it?” came Crystal’s irritated reply. Edwin only rolled his eyes at your antics but you knew he agreed with Crystal’s discontent. You caught Charles’ gaze and broke out in a smile.

“I don’t know,” said Niko, fiddling with her fingers, “I think it’s cute when they do that.”

And just like that, you both fell silent and turned away from each other.

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere he goes

You knew you liked him, a lot. But you hadn’t dared admit anything to him or anyone else and tried your best to hide it—not that you were doing a very good job.

The only thing that knew what you felt were the thrown-away poems you had written on a whim, his beaming face starkly imprinted in your mind.

You didn’t think it was fair for him to make you feel that much, enough to actually write poems about him. God, you were whipped (Charles would have definitely made fun of your using that word if he heard it).

You came with the Dead Boy Detectives on all their cases, now an honorary member in their Detective Agency. You enjoyed a lot of detective stories, like Sherlock Holmes and so seemingly had absorbed some of it, because you were quite good at figuring out clues.

It was all practically worth it to see Charles' smile directed at you after you had discovered something.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read

And despite it all, you didn’t feel quite enough for him. He was a charismatic and vibrant person, while you thought of yourself as quite rude and boring.

Sometimes you wondered if you were too harsh in your remarks at Charles’ britishness, but then remembered his always-present smile that met your gaze and your worries fell away.

Nothing had happened up until that point, but it became increasingly more difficult denying anything being between you two.

Even Edwin started catching on and asking if something was between you two, which lead to some very awkward silences where Charles would drag Edwin away with an apologetic smile thrown your way.

Until finally it got too difficult to deny.

Niko would ask you something about a case and somehow you would end up talking about Charles’ smile, his eyes, the way he dressed and what he was interested in. She finally got so sick of it and decided to just call you out on it.

“You like Charles.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she put a finger against your lips, causing you to be too stunned to speak.

“And don’t say that you don’t, because it’s obvious,” she said, removing her finger.

“It’s not that obvious, is it?” you asked. You refused to meet her gaze and instead tried to look anywhere but her.

“Yes, it is.” She sighed, bringing her hands up to clasp your shoulders. “We all know it. Even Charles. But he won’t admit it either, so please go talk to him before we all die.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt a small smile start to form on your lips. “OK, just a little dramatic there?”

Niko shook her head with a serious expression on her face. “No. Now go find him.”

She had shooed you away after that, making sure that both Edwin and Crystal were distracted enough so that you could slip out to talk to Charles privately.

You found him in the other room, rooting through his backpack to find something ridiculously large, no wonder.

And he says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him If he keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

He seemed to have heard your footsteps as you were coming in because he tilted his head in your directing, flashing his trademark smile.

The sight of it made you swoon and you had to take a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts. When he finally asked what was up, your words came out jumbled and very much not like you had planned them to come out.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking ahold of your shoulders and meeting your nervous gaze with his steady one. “Take a deep breath. C’mon, breathe with me.”

You did as he said, breathing with him, trying and failing to ignore the shivers that spread along with his touch. When you had collected yourself, he smiled and let go, much to your disappointment.

“That’s it. Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked.

You strode past him, opting to face the window instead of seeing his face. It only made it harder to get out any coherent sentences. “Why’d you think anything was on my mind?”

“Well,” remarked Charles, strolling after you, “it’s not everyday you storm in here as if the world is ending and then end up babbling like a stroke patient.”

You stared at him in horror before rolling your eyes. “Stop being so British, Charles.”

“Sorry, no can do, love.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” you muttered to yourself.

“What?” he asked immediately, striding right in front of you so he could look you in the eyes.

“Look,” you started, refusing to meet his eye and instead looking anywhere else. Although, you could feel his  gaze burning into your skull. “I might have developed some… feelings for you.”

Charles’ eyes widened at your words and you tried to turn again but he grabbed your shoulder to hold you in place. You sighed and finally met his gaze. His eyes were the same mysterious pools of darkness that you were used to, but you might have fooled yourself to imagine something else in them—something hopeful.

You decided to continue your confession because you were far past the point of redemption and might as well get it all out in one go.

“And the problem is, Charles, that however hard I try not to, I keep developing feelings for you. Even your annoying habits and antics cause me to fall for you. And, I swear to God, that if you keep this shit up I’m going to be properly gone for you.”

You waited a breath for his reaction, but when nothing came you were forced to ask him again. “Charles?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered out, his voice suddenly dry and cracked. “Sorry, I—uh, I was not prepared for that.”

You shrugged. “That’s alright. We’ll just go back to being friends. Nothing needs to change.”

He shook his head violently. “That’s absolutely not OK.”

You had but a moment to be surprised before he went in for the best kiss you had had yet in your short life. He held you like he had never touched anything before in his life and kissed you like he was a dying man and you were the cure. You weren't sure how much of it he could feel, but the psychological effect was immediate and mind blowing.

He may be dead but he had never felt more alive than in that moment.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

Your relationship escalated quickly after that first kiss. You didn’t define it as anything, but it made you happier just knowing he was there by your side—and you could all him yours.

And you wasted no time in physically progressing your relationship—AKA you did not get much sleeping done.

It was a different kind of vulnerable, allowing yourself to give your soul and body to Charles, and him trusting you with himself.

Because of his being a ghost, it felt like so much more an emotional and psychological experience which only made you appreaciate it, and him, more.

By the looks of it, he enjoyed it as well—more than enjoyed it. He couldn’t stop smiling at you afterwards, while he laid on the bed beside you and gazed at you with half-dazed eyes.

Charles let himself curl around you, embracing you. You weren’t sure if ghosts could get tired, but nonetheless he whispered out a, “I’m knackered.”

You had nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You’re so British.”

He kissed your forehead softly, and you felt it more than you had ever felt him before. “And you’re so American.”

You only chuckled and let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms holding you close.

You never wanted to get out of bed or leave him, and he utilised that fact to his every advantage.

He did everything he could to keep you in bed with him, even though he probably didn’t sleep much, just wanting to hold you close.

It wasn’t fair how easy he made your heart melt.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

It didn’t take long for you to know that it wasn’t merely affection you felt for Charles, but something much deeper.

You didn’t want to presume Charles felt anything close to what you felt, though.

So you continued acting like whatever the two of you were—kissing and hooking up—not quite a couple but not quite friends with benefits, but something in between that went deep between you two.

Without any real definition for what you two were, it frightened you out of saying anything to him.

So you kept going with the featherlight kisses, the quiet giggles after one of you said a joke and were trying to cover it up as to not disturb the rest of the group, and the endless nights where you could be in his arms and have not a care in the world.

But it was on your mind, constantly.

Oh, how you just wished to say those three words to him, to just have it out in the open. So he could have you with the truth staring into his face and do with you what he pleased.

You wanted to splay yourself open for him, vulnerable and unafraid, show him yourself and let him love you back with the same ferocity with which you loved.

And finally, it became too much.

He was on his way out for one of the cases, one of which you chose not to go with them to. He had just collected all his belongings in that backpack of his and went in for a goodbye kiss.

“Be careful,” you whispered between parted lips, leaving the ghost of your words on his mouth. He smiled through it and pulled away.

“Always am,” came his cheeky reply, winking at you before turning to the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you called, and then, without thinking, “Love you.”

It took a mere moment for his brain to register your words before he halted and slowly turned in his step.

“What?”

Your own eyes widened in surprise of yourself and you were quick to come up with a way to play it off as a mistake or a stumble upon your words. But he crossed the distance between you with long strides, dropping his backpack and bringing his hands up to hold your cheeks tenderly.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, eyes shifting back and forth between yours trying to find the truth in your words. Your mouth fell agape, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him again, so close now so that you could feel his short breaths of air on your skin. “Please,” he said again, voice so soft you had to strain to hear him.

“I mean, it might be a little too much, too soon, and I don’t want to assume anything, but..” Your voice trailed off, breaking. Your lips fought to form the words that so desperately wanted to make their way out of you. “But I—I love you, Charles.”

He breathed out huge sigh of relief and captured your lips with his. “I love you too,” he whispered between breaths, barely audible.

Your smile could not be hindered as he kissed you back, fiercely and passionately. He kept pressing kisses on your mouth, on the corner of your lips, trailing to your cheeks, to your neck, down to your shoulders and your chest. All the while he kept repeating those same three words, “I love you,” over and over again, pressing them into your skin. Into your soul, essentially.

Your hands were grasped in his hair, fingers curling around his locks as you felt every touch of his lips that brought forth a shiver down your spine. Not from the coldness, though, but from the feeling of his soul connecting to yours.

He kept pressing featherlight kisses to you with small ‘I love you’s, and you couldn’t fight the laugh that escaped its way through you.

“Okay, stop it” you whispered, pulling his head away to grasp his face in your hands. You met his eyes with a smile and his beaming grin made your insides melt. “I love you so much, Charles.”

He laughed, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I love you too.”

“Now, come on, you got a case to solve.”

Charles let himself be lead away to the others, refusing to let go of your hand. He even pressed kisses to the back of it every chance he got, and you were roped into going to the case with the rest of them, if only not to leave Charles’ side.

Tag list: @bookholichany, @heartsfromcoco, @scriblezz, @a-gay-dumbass, @eunxhan, @loverclear, @shobolanya, @edit-me-prettyplease

You met when Charles and Edwin were on the way to the newest of the Dead Boy Detectives’ cases and was immediately enamoured by Charles’ charming smile and flamboyant attitude.

It was a welcome change from the jocks you were all too familiar with in your school.

You were walking towards the apartment you knew Niko was renting, having decided to pay her a visit after she dropped out of your boarding school. After all, she was one of your closest friends and you wanted to make sure she wasn’t doing too badly after the death of her father.

You had had a near death experience when you were younger and thus were all too familiar with seeing ghosts.

So imagine Charles’ surprise when Edwin had almost walked into you and you swivelled around to spit out curses after him.

Edwin merely raised his eyebrows in his sassy way, which you were all too used to by now, but then thought was a rather prick move.

Charles smiled politely, extending a hand while looking you up and down. “Sorry about my mate here, he wasn’t looking where he was going. I’m Charles.”

You gave him a hesitant glare before taking it. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy who had almost walked into you scoffed and pursed his lips. Charles nudged his side with his elbow and he gave in with a reluctant handshake. “Edwin.”

Your head tilted to the side. “I thought the British were supposed to be polite.”

“And I thought the American were supposed to be clumsy and unrefined,” he noted, also looking you up and down. His gaze felt more judging than Charles’ inspecting one and it made your skin crawl. His lips formed into a tight smile. “Oh, wait, you are.”

“Hey, you little—”

Charles interrupted the no-doubt unrefined retort you were about to throw the ghost’s way by stepping between the two of you with his hands held high.

“Woah, okay, let’s calm down, all right?” he said, looking between you two. Edwin cocked his head, apparently a sign of agreement. “Let’s show our new friend how proper brits behave. We aren’t pricks, now are we, Edwin?”

Edwin hummed noncommittally before turning around and walking away. Charles rolled his eyes but offered you an apologetic smile.

You thought they were just following you when you had kept going, but it turned out you were all going to Niko’s (and in their case, Crystal’s) place. It did not take long for you be welcomed into their group of detectives.

They introduced you to Crystal, whose style you immediately loved and pointed out for her, and you were pulled with on their case. Edwin tried to resist, but with everyone against him he had no chance but to concede his defeat.

He kept letting out snide remarks during the case, and every time Charles would smile your way in a way to say ’sorry about him, I can’t do anything but offer you this smile as an apology’.

It did help when you managed to solve the final bit of the puzzle that made up that specific case, which even Edwin could not deny you respect for.

Your friendship with Edwin improved after that, but only slightly. Niko tried to make you two reconcile every chance she got, and while the both of you appreciated her attempts it was difficult not to get on his nerves.

Nonetheless, it took a bit of time for Edwin to fully warm up to you, but seeing as Niko could vouch for you and you agreed to try to get along, he made his best efforts as well.

Eventually, though, you actually found out you had a shared love for literature and that made Edwin’s respect for you grow infinitely. The others could from then on find the two of you talking late into the night about books and authors you loved, swapping ideas and recommending novels you thought the other would like.

It made Charles content seeing his best mate and new friend (which he said you definitely were, nothing else, whenever someone asked him about it) get along so well. Well, at first.

After a while, it almost seemed that you preferred Edwin’s sarcastic company in favour of his charming smiles. Like he mentioned earlier, he was glad you were getting on, but it was almost to the point of him feeling jealous.

He didn’t fully realised why, at first.

It only took one of your smile sent in his direction for him to come to the realisation that he was falling for you. Hard.

After that, he turned his charm up even further and did everything in his power to be graced by your smile again.

He held open any door he could, even going as far as to race ahead of you to it (he’s cheesy alright).

He would lend you his jacket whenever it was cold (because I say ghosts can do that).

Charles loved to tell jokes in your presence only to hear your laughter.

Before realising he fancied you, his smiles would be their usual bright selves and more general. However, after, his smiles would often be followed by a pointed glance in your direction or even a wink if he felt especially cheeky.

And you didn’t even know if he did it consciously, but Charles liked to repeat words in your accent. Every time he did, you’d call him a parrot but he only laughed it off with a, “If I’m a parrot, then I reckon you’re my pirate.”

He loves the banter between you. If there’s anything a brit like him loves, it is proper banter.

The banter would turn more flirty as more time passed, which you slowly, but surely, noticed.

You’d make an offhand joke about him being slower than you, and he would immediately respond with something like, “I’m only slower because I enjoy the view of your behind,” which left you all too flustered to even think of responding.

You thought it was just the British in him being this way, but Edwin refused to take part in any of it. That was when you started suspecting something more was up.

You realised most of his smiles was sent your way and that whenever he laughed his eyes would meet yours.

He also liked to lean in close and smirk whenever he mentioned any of your inside jokes, causing you to let out a snort trying to keep in your laughter. The others would look at you weirdly while you tried to cover your mouth and sent a deadly glare Charles’ way, one to which his smirk only widened.

You noticed than more often than not, he was the reason for your smiles during your days together, and that warmed something inside of you.

When he would respond with the same kind of grin that you sent his way, you felt your stomach flutter nervously. And you also found yourself looking in his direction to already find him gazing at you.

So, all in all, you were falling for him too.

The realisation made your cheeks warm instantly any time he would address you, and you cursed yourself for being so easily flustered.

It all came to a head when you were sitting in Niko's room one night, working on some schoolwork (which you still unfortunately had, despite being away on cases so much). She had left the apartment with Crystal for some girl-on-girl time, which left you and the boys to occupy yourselves.

Edwin had declined your invitation to read with him, which you didn’t think much of. Despite you getting along well with him, there were plenty of instances when you preferred being alone rather than each others’ company. However, that is when Charles found you.

You had thought that it would be Edwin regretting his choice and coming to join you after all, so you didn’t look up.

“Felt too alone, hm?” you asked, eyes on the notebook in your lap.

“Well, kind of,” said Charles with a small smile. He moved to sit down beside you as your head snapped up in silent surprise. “Better now that I’m with you, though.”

You felt the irritating warm move to your cheeks at his words and tried to direct your attention to your work to hide it. “Sorry,” you muttered. “Thought you were Edwin.”

Something twisted inside of Charles at those words. The same ugly jealousy that he had tried to get rid of. “Didn’t know you preferred him over me,” he mumbled, avoiding your questioning gaze. It was petty, he knew, but to his defence, he felt hurt. And it was too painful to face the topic head-on. Thus, the petty comment.

Your brows furrowed as you tried to meet his eye. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, moving to stand.

Your hand shot out in a futile attempt to stop him. His arm merely phased through your fingers. Like sand. “Wait,” you called instead, causing him to halt. “What do you mean by that?”

He faced you but still refused to meet your eye, trying to work up the nerve to tell you the truth. You stood up, as well, walking closer to him. He kept shifting his feet, seemingly nervous.

“Charles,” you said, again.

Finally, he meets your gaze and everything inside him just melts. He can’t pretend that your eyes boring into his doesn’t mean anything to him, and he can’t really be mad at you either. He just lets out an exhausted sigh and the tension in his shoulders drop.

“I—bloody hell,” he began. You stood silently, letting him find his words. “I fancy you, okay? And it doesn’t feel bloody great to know that you’d rather spend time with my mate than me. I mean, of course I can’t make you prefer me over Edwin, but I just don’t want to know about it, alright?”

“Uh, what?” were the only words that you could muster. He sighed impatiently, opening his mouth again, but you were quicker. “Wait, wait, Charles?”

“Yeah?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t like Edwin, not in that way.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you said it as if it was obvious—which it apparently hadn’t been for him. Then, the rest of his words caught up with you and you realised that he had just admitted to liking you, in that way. Warmth spread across your cheeks again and you had to look away to be able to say the following words. “I like you, okay?”

Charles looked at you as if you had just hung the moon, as if you had lighted the sun, and one quick movement, embraced you. It felt different, when his intention was to touch you, and you could almost feel like he was there, alive with you. It didn’t matter, you hugged him back, content to let your feelings bleed into the touch.

After that, your relationship blossomed.

Charles went from trying to hide his constant glances at you to not caring who would see his unabashed staring.

He also kept stealing small bites of your food, in turn feeding you any sweets he happened upon.

It was all endearing to you, so you couldn’t stay mad.

Despite all this, it didn’t mean that Charles’ jealousy was suddenly gone. Of course he knew that you liked him, no matter how time you would spend with Edwin discussing literature and philosophical dilemmas, but it was hard to always stay rational.

You knew you only had to give him a little bit of extra attention and a few more kisses and confirm to him that you were his, and all was good again.