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herlondonboy · 3 months

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pretty when you cry, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this post by @kitten-reader

warnings: aphrodite’s kids are pricks lol, erm it’s really bad…

wc: 2.8k

your hair was something that you prided yourself on.

it was no doubt that you were beautiful beyond comparison to your fellow demigods, what with being the daughter of aphrodite. people couldn’t even compare you to your godly siblings.

you believed that your hair was the reason that your beauty was so great, so you natural worked hard on it.

in the world of olympians, you found solace and pride in the strands of hair that cascaded down your shoulders like a cascade of silk. your hair, a manifestation of your divine heritage, was more than just a physical attribute— it was a symbol of your identity and a testament to the grace and allure that came with being the offspring of the goddess of love.

from the moment you discovered your parentage, you embraced the inherent charm that ran through your veins, and it manifested prominently in your hair. unlike the messy, unpredictable tresses of some demigods, yours seemed to have a life of its own, obeying your whims and desires with a luxurious sheen that captivated those around you.

the secret, as you often shared with your fellow campers at camp half-blood, lay in the meticulous care you bestowed upon your locks. your morning routine became a sacred ritual— a blend of enchanted hair care products and divine techniques passed down through generations of aphrodite's children. a symphony of sweet-scented potions and ethereal brushes transformed the routine into a dance of beauty, each stroke accentuating the natural glamour that radiated from your hair.

you revelled in the attention your hair garnered, the way it shimmered under the sunlight as if kissed by the gods themselves. it became a beacon of confidence, a tangible manifestation of your divine heritage that set you apart from the sea of demigods at the camp. the other campers often marvelled at your ability to maintain such perfection, unaware of the divine secrets woven into every strand.

however, your relationship with your hair wasn't purely superficial. it served as a connection to your mother, a link to the goddess whose legacy you carried. the act of caring for it became a ritual that grounded you, a reminder of the divine blood that coursed through your veins and the responsibilities that came with it.

not unbeknownst to you, the envy and resentment simmered beneath the surface of the camp. the adoration and attention that accompanied your divine beauty fuelled the flames of jealousy among your fellow aphrodite siblings. little did you realise, being the favourite child of the goddess of love came at a cost, and that cost was the disdain of your own kin.

as you moved through the camp with the grace of a deity, your radiant hair attracting attention like a beacon, you, though aware of the hostile whispers that followed in your wake, chose to ignore. the other children of aphrodite, who were accustomed to being the centre of attention, couldn't fathom the idea of sharing the spotlight with someone they perceived as the golden child.

the jealousy manifested in subtle acts of exclusion and passive-aggressive remarks. your attempts to connect with your half-siblings often met with cold shoulders and thinly veiled animosity. the communal vanity table, where aphrodite's children traditionally gathered, became a battlefield of unspoken rivalry as they vied for the elusive title of the most captivating demigod.

yet, you, in your innocence, continued to extend kindness and friendship to those around you, oblivious to the resentment building in the hearts of your fellow campers. the intricate braids and enchanting hairstyles you generously offered to create for others only fuelled their frustration, as they struggled to reconcile the warmth of your gestures with the envy burning within them.

within the intricate dynamics of camp half-blood, one particular relationship defied expectations and unfolded with a complexity that left others bewildered. clarisse la rue, known for her brusque demeanour and a reputation that preceded her, stood as an unexpected confidante in your life. despite her gruff exterior and the scathing remarks she directed towards most campers, clarisse treated you with an unusual gentleness, and a unique bond formed between you two.

it all began during a chance encounter near the armoury, where clarisse, with her characteristic scowl, found herself inexplicably drawn to you. to the surprise of everyone witnessing the scene, her rough hands delicately traced the contours of your locks, as if handling a precious artefact. the camp's collective gasp echoed through the air, and it was then that an unspoken connection began to weave itself between you and the formidable daughter of ares.

clarisse, who seldom allowed others into her personal space, not only tolerated but seemed to relish the moments spent running her fingers through your hair. your shared interactions defied the logic of the camp's social hierarchy, leaving fellow demigods perplexed and intrigued by the peculiar alliance that had blossomed between you two.

as your friendship with clarisse deepened, it became apparent that her seemingly abrasive exterior masked a vulnerability that few had the privilege to witness. she confided in you about the weight of expectations placed upon her shoulders as the daughter of ares, the god of war. your hair, with its calming allure, became an unexpected refuge for her, a sanctuary where she could momentarily escape the demands of her tumultuous life.

in the quiet moments shared between you and clarisse, amidst the backdrop of a camp constantly on guard against mythical threats, an unexpected emotion began to stir— love. the kind of love that transcended the lines drawn by parentage and reputations. it was a love born out of understanding, acceptance, and the shared vulnerability that only the tumultuous world of demigods could evoke.

the camp, initially taken aback by the unlikely friendship, eventually came to accept the profound connection that had blossomed between you and clarisse. the daughter of ares, who once stood as an enigma wrapped in hostility, softened in the presence of your divine beauty and the solace found within the cascade of your hair.

as your feelings for each other deepened, the two of you navigated the complexities of love in a world fraught with danger. clarisse's protective instincts, honed on the battlefield, as well as in camp. together, you became an unlikely force, a symbol of love's ability to bridge even the most unexpected divides.

there was a time when a group of your own siblings, fuelled by jealousy and resentment, conspired to disrupt the tranquil rhythm of your bonds with your mother and girlfriend. one day, your prized possession, a hairbrush gifted by your mother, disappeared from its usual place. panic set in as you scoured the cabin, realising that this wasn't just a casual prank— someone had deliberately taken something sacred to you.

as whispers of the stolen hairbrush circulated through the cabin, the undercurrents of jealousy among your siblings bubbled to the surface. the mischievous culprits revelled in their act of sabotage, convinced that stripping you of this cherished item would somehow diminish the radiance that surrounded you.

it didn't take long for clarisse to sense your distress. the unspoken bond between you two had woven itself into a tapestry of mutual understanding, and she recognised the significance of the pilfered hairbrush. determined to right the wrong, clarisse took it upon herself to investigate the matter.

she confronted your siblings with an intensity that left them quaking in their sandals. her stern gaze bore into their guilt-ridden souls, extracting the truth like a seasoned interrogator. clarisse's usually thunderous voice carried a solemn edge as she demanded the return of the stolen hairbrush and an apology befitting the gravity of their actions.

unbeknownst to the misguided thieves, clarisse's reputation for ferocity on the battlefield extended to her protective instincts off it. the very fear she instilled in her enemies on the front lines was now directed at those who dared to threaten the tranquility of your connection.

under the weight of clarisse's unwavering determination, the guilty siblings caved. they returned the stolen hairbrush with bowed heads, offering apologies that bordered on genuine remorse. clarisse, satisfied with the swift resolution, ensured that justice prevailed, safeguarding the sanctity of the connection between you and the divine gift bestowed upon you by aphrodite.

as the stolen hairbrush was returned to its rightful place, the bond between you and clarisse strengthened. the trials you faced together only deepened the roots of your connection, intertwining your destinies in a tale of love, loyalty, and the unyielding power of shared vulnerability. in the heart of camp half-blood, where demigods navigated the tumultuous waters of existence, your story became a testament to the resilience of love against the currents of jealousy and deceit.

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a fiery glow over camp half-blood, as clarisse la rue realised she hadn't seen you all day. a sense of unease settled in her chest, an unfamiliar concern that compelled her to seek you out. with each passing moment, her worry deepened, driven by a gut feeling that something was amiss.

clarisse traversed the familiar paths of the camp, her eyes scanning the bustling activity for a glimpse of your familiar figure. the ares cabin loomed in the distance, and a knot tightened in her stomach as she approached, not spotting you among the demigods sparring and training.

finally reaching the ares cabin, clarisse's unease morphed into genuine concern. where were you? why hadn't she seen you all day? the questions echoed in her mind, and she briskly entered the cabin, determined to uncover the mystery behind your absence.

there, in the dimly lit interior, she found you sitting on the edge of her bunk, your figure shrouded by a hood and a hat pulled low over your tearful eyes. the sight sent a ripple of worry through clarisse, and she rushed to your side, her gruff demeanour momentarily replaced by a genuine sense of care.

"hey, what happened?" clarisse asked, her voice softer than usual as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. your tear-streaked face turned towards her, and the anguish in your eyes tugged at her heart.

"they took it away," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. you repeated the words, a mantra of despair, and clarisse struggled to comprehend the source of your pain. "they took it away."

clarisse's brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. "took what away? what happened?"

with trembling hands, you reached up and pulled off the hood, revealing a mess of uneven strands that once cascaded in silky splendour. clarisse's eyes widened in realisation, her hand instinctively reaching to touch the shortened locks. the betrayal etched on your face told the story before you uttered a single word.

"they cut it," you sobbed, burying your face in clarisse's shoulder. "they cut it, clarisse. look at it, it's gone. all gone."

comprehension dawned on clarisse as she gently ran her fingers through the uneven strands. anger surged within her, a protective instinct for the one she cared about more than she ever thought possible. "who did this?" she growled, her gaze ablaze with fury.

you shook your head, unable to articulate the betrayal and cruelty that led to this moment. clarisse, however, needed no words. she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as she vowed to make those responsible pay for the pain they inflicted.

in the sanctuary of the ares cabin, amid the echoes of your tearful revelation, clarisse became a pillar of strength, ready to stand by your side and face whatever challenges lay ahead. love, in its purest and most protective form, ignited within her, as the daughter of ares transformed into a fierce guardian of the broken and betrayed.

the night hung heavy with an air of tension as you cried yourself to sleep in clarisse's bed, the echoes of betrayal haunting your dreams. clarisse, ever the guardian, sat silently beside you, watching over your restless slumber. the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the determination etched into her face, fuelled by a fierce protectiveness that refused to be extinguished.

as your sobs eventually subsided into the quiet rhythm of sleep, clarisse rose from the bedside with a silent determination. in the dim light of the cabin, she retrieved her spear, its blade glinting with a subtle menace. the daughter of ares, had one mission— avenge you.

the night enveloped camp half-blood in a cloak of darkness as clarisse stealthily made her way towards the aphrodite cabin. the aura of the daughter of ares carried an intensity that reverberated through the quiet paths, heralding a confrontation fuelled by the depth of her feelings for you.

standing outside the cabin, clarisse's eyes narrowed with determination as she observed the shadows within. the miscreants who had dared to harm you needed to be taught a lesson—one they would not soon forget. gripping her spear tightly, clarisse pushed open the door, her gaze unwavering as she confronted your godly siblings.

the scene within was one of startled surprise as clarisse stormed into the cabin. her voice, usually thunderous on the battlefield, now carried a chilling calmness. "you touch her again, and i promise you, the consequences will be far worse than you can imagine."

the air in the cabin grew heavy with tension as the children of aphrodite, once filled with false bravado, now faced the unyielding force of clarisse's wrath. she recounted the pain you had endured, the tears that stained your face, and the betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.

in her hand, the spear gleamed ominously, a silent warning that spoke volumes. the children of aphrodite, their faces pale with fear, found themselves cornered by the very embodiment of wrath standing before them. clarisse's words echoed in the cavernous space, leaving an indelible mark on their consciousness.

with a final warning that carried the weight of a promise, clarisse turned on her heel, leaving the aphrodite cabin in her wake. the night embraced her as she returned to the ares cabin, a sense of satisfaction lingering in the air. the protective fire that burned within her had been unleashed, a fierce determination to shield you from further harm.

the following day, the morning light filtered through the windows of the ares cabin, casting a gentle glow over the space. you awoke with a heaviness in your heart, the memory of the previous day's betrayal lingering like a shadow. as you sat up in bed, clarisse entered the cabin, her eyes immediately locking onto yours. the weight of the night's events still etched on her features, but a newfound determination shone in her gaze.

"hey," clarisse greeted you, her voice softer than usual. she took a seat beside you, her hand gently resting on your shoulder. "we need to talk."

the air felt charged with a mix of vulnerability and strength as clarisse began to speak. "i know yesterday was rough, and i can't change what happened, but i need you to understand something." she took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "your beauty isn't defined by your hair. it's not just one thing that makes you pretty. it's everything."

clarisse began listing every part of you, her voice deliberate and unwavering. "your eyes– they hold a strength and depth that's beyond compare. your lips– they carry a warmth that can brighten the darkest days. your ears– they've heard laughter, pain, and everything in between. every part of you contributes to the unique beauty that is you."

you listened, the weight of her words sinking in, but doubt still lingered in your eyes. clarisse, undeterred, continued, "and, above all, it's your personality. your kindness, your strength, your resilience – that's what makes you truly beautiful."

a flicker of disbelief danced across your face, and clarisse recognised the challenge ahead. she persisted, her gaze unwavering. "say it. say you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

you hesitated, the echoes of the previous day's betrayal still reverberating in your mind. "i can't- i can’t say that. not after what they did to me."

clarisse tightened her grip on your shoulder, her voice taking on a gentle insistence. "you need to believe it. it's not about them; it's about you. say it with me. you're beautiful because of your eyes, lips, ears, and every part of you."

it felt like a mantra, a repetition that tested the resilience of self-perception. clarisse didn't back down, patiently guiding you through each affirmation until the words became a declaration echoing within the walls of the ares cabin. "i'm beautiful because of my eyes, lips, ears, and every part of me."

as you repeated the words, something shifted within you. the doubt began to yield to the truth that clarisse so fervently believed. her unwavering support became a lifeline, anchoring you to a newfound understanding of your own beauty.

in that shared moment, surrounded by the strength of ares' cabin, you started to embrace the truth that beauty wasn't confined to a single aspect. it was a mosaic, a tapestry woven from the threads of every part that made you uniquely, undeniably yourself. clarisse, with her fierce love and unyielding determination, had become the mirror reflecting the truth you needed to see.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse x y/n #daughter of aphrodite #gn reader #gn!reader #gn #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo x you #elijah writes #dior goodjohn #dior good john x reader

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Artist steve x fashion designer reader(romantic and shes civilian)

These two artists colide at best and share eachothers artistry methods . Some point the team were invited to an event or someone hosts (reff:Hellfire gala) steve thought it was a good idea and chalenge for y/n ofc he will help in the sketch if shes stressed . Surprised the team and his freinds met his fellow artist gf and soon they get along while she works her mediums with fabrics and more then steve surprises her a sketch that seems unfamiliar till later after its done its for her and they spend the time at the gala with eachother (try to peek steves version of the hellfire gala its hot )(readers reffrences is from Dior 2004 red white and black dress From John galliano)(no pressure but you might love the reffrences ^~^ for fun too)

Sweet googlymoogly, look at this ART!!

my LAWD.

but it's not bringing up a specific 2004 dress except for this queen's gown one. is that what we're talking about?

found some alts it might be but they aren't '04, and I hate that I can't get thumbnails to properly come up. These are all amazing though.

I really like this premise, but I'm gonna let it percolate for a while since I've got a few other things to wrap up.

(There is also a small chance I will incorporate this into Autumn Is Healing because it would be a fun date-out-in-society for Steve...small definite chance...)

#ro answers #y'all coming in hot with the good ideas #steve rogers fanfiction

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jeyramarie · 3 years

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Mr. & Mrs. Holland- (Mob! Tom Holland x Mob! Reader) part 1

summary: most powerful couple in the country but it’s not Tom you should be fearing.

w/c: 3,033

warning: fluff, kissing, angst? idk, y/n being a badass (yes... that should be a warning)

a/n: the prologue got the greatest feedback, thank you to everyone who read it. i’m so so thankful. since it did so good, here’s part 1!! happy reading everyone 🦋

The sun shined through the curtains, warming up the naked bodies that were tangled in the satin sheets. Tom’s eyes fluttered open, immediately turning his bed to see his wife laying on his chest. He smiled and pushed back a piece of hair that was hanging in front of her face. Waking up next to Y/n was his favorite feeling because to him, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life. He moved a bit to get out of bed making her stir. Her eyes opened softly to look at him and smile.

“Morning, love.” he said softly leaning in and giving her a peck.

“Good morning, honey.” she chuckled and bit her lip while smiling widely. Tom stood up from the bed, his butt bare making Y/n giggle. He turned around with a questionable look while she layed back down on her pillow.

“You have a nice butt.” she giggled making him roll his eyes and make his way towards their walk in closet.

“Where are you going?” she groaned, sitting up in bed with her back against the headboard.

“I have a meeting with the boys. Haz told me some things have been going missing on the ports.”

“What things?” she asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“That supply we were gonna send to Columbia last week.” He walked out butting up his shirt, then moving to his sleeves rolling them up.

“But… Tom, that was the biggest supply this month.. we were gonna get a fortune.” Y/n said sitting up straighter.

“Love, I know that. That’s why I need to find out what’s going on and who did this. I’m gonna be with the boys most of the day. I’ll see later.” Tom leaned down, gave his wife a long kiss and stepped out of the bedroom without uttering another word. Y/n started thinking about a possible plan that would help her husband and the whole company. She quickly got out of bed and went into the shower where her thoughts sort of became clearer. With a towel wrapped around her body she walked into her side of the closet.

“What the hell am i gonna wear?” she asked herself with her arms crossed over her chest. She scanned her color coded closet and finally chose a short black Prada dress. It was tight around her curves and it had a small slight on the side to show part of her thigh. Y/n put her hair up to show off her collarbone and the diamond earrings Tom had just bought her. She put on her favorite pair of heels and made her way towards the meeting room. Her heels clacked on the marble floors as she strutted to the testosterone filled room.

She pulled open the dark brown doors making every pair of eyes land on her. Of course, Y/n smirked and began to make her way to her husband, who was sitting at the end of the table with a whiskey in hand and his fingers rubbing his chin deep in thought. When she was half way there, she turned to the bartender.

“Martin? I'll have my usual.”

“Dry martini with two olives. Got it, boss.” he nodded and turned to start off her drink while she smiled, turning back to look at Tom. Finally, she stood next to him, making him look up at her. Tom looked back down and stared slowly at her thighs, her hips, the day the dress got extra tight at her waist, her breast that were shaped perfectly to him, her collarbone that he desired to kiss and bite at that very moment and last, but certainly not the least, her beautiful face that made him melt every single time he looked at it.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” He asked, smirking at his wife who was smiling widely.

“I thought I could give you some ideas, help you out a bit. What do you guys have so far? That’s if you do want my help, of course.” she said as she crossed her arms quickly looking to her right to see Martin with her drink in hand.

“Thanks, Martin.” she muttered and took a sip while looking back at Tom.

“I would love to hear what you have in mind. You know I always need your help, darling.” he smiled putting his hand on her thigh and moving it up and down making Y/n get goose bumps all over her body.

“I need to know what you guys have first.” she smirked and drank another sip from her strong beverage. Tom looked at her and chuckled, sitting straight.

“Okay, boys… let’s tell Mrs. Holland what we have, now.” he said, strongly making Y/n feel an undeniable tingly feeling on her covered core. The next 30 minutes were spent discussing the problems and the suspects. Of course, Harrison believed it was someone from the inside spilling out details on the supply’s destination. The only thing they seem to have left is a good hideout place to keep look out. Harrison brought over some files of properties close by to Y/n. She put her glass down and sat on the armrest of Tom’s chair making him put his hand on her hip.

“You’re planning on buying this?” she asked with a questionable look with her head turned to her husband.

“Yes, why? Do you not like it?”

“Is not that i don’t like it.. is that…. they’ll find you before you move in. You have to be somewhere that no one's gonna expect you to be in.” Y/n said while looking at the different properties in front of her. She took the last sip from her martini and stood up, still looking at the papers. She walked around the table in silence, every single man following her with their eyes.

“I hate this. This… this is… what the fuck are you thinking?” she exclaimed turning around to look at Tom who was looking at her with a straight face, waiting for her to explain herself.

“You wanna spy on someone who’s probably stealing your shit and you wanna buy a 3 million dollar mansion to do it?” she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief as her husband stood up from his chair and slowly started walking towards Y/n.

“You have to get a place that no one’s gonna expect. Get an abandoned apartment or something. Somewhere dirty and ugly.” Tom finally stood in front of her and grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him.

“I love the way you think, darling. I like your idea.” he whispered and leaned in to give her a peck.

“Of course you do, it’s the right one.” she said smiling which caused him to chuckle.

“We’ll go with that. Harrison, get everything ready.”

“If you want something done right, let a woman do it.” she said and grabbed his face to give him a quick kiss. She pulled away and started walking towards the door.

“I have to go, check on my employees. I’ll call you later, honey.” and with that she left the room leaving every man speechless. Y/n walked to the living room where her driver was playing cards with the maids of the house.

“Dylan, bring the car around.”

“Yes, ma’am.” she quickly turned around and walked back to her room to get her purse and of course, her small golden gun. She walked outside towards the car where Dylan was holding the door open.

“Where to, ma’am?” he asked before Y/n got into the car.

“You know that apartment building close to Le Royal?”

“Yes.”

“I need to go there, William is waiting for me.” the man nodded and she got into the car. The ride was silent but she was mostly talking to herself in her head. Thinking of what to say and what to do when she got there. The car came to a stop making her jolt out of her trance. The door opened showing Dylan with a small smile.

“We’re here, ma’am.” he extended his hand to help Y/n out of the car.

“Thanks, Dylan. Stay close, please.”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Good luck in there.” he said, closing the car door.

“Thank you.” she smiled putting on her Dior sunglasses and walking towards the door. Y/n walked inside and got to the elevator, going to the last floor. When the doors opened her right hand man, William was waiting for her with a bloody fist.

“Thanks for the help, William.”

“Anytime, ma’am.” he nodded and she made her way to the long hallway that led to a wooden door. She opened the door and was met with a man tied to a chair and another chair in front of him.

“I’m so sorry for the delay but i’m sure my right hand man kept you company. He’s a great conversation starter. I'm sure you guys had fun.” Y/n smiled sitting down on the chair and crossing her legs. The man lifted his head with his sweaty hair falling on his face and the blood coming from his lip, dripping down his chin.

“Yeah, fun.”

“Do you know who i am, John?”

“Yeah.” he scoffed.

“Okay, do you know what i’m gonna do to you?” the room filled with silence and Y/n chuckled at his nervousness.

“Of course you don’t. I’ll tell you anyway though.” she said, uncrossing her legs and standing up. Finally in front of the man, she placed her hands on the armrest of the chair leaning in front of him.

“You mess with my husband, you mess with me and our company. You're not gonna get out of this so easily.” she whispered in a low serious voice making the man’s breath shaky.

“I’m gonna bash your skull with a metal bat until it has a hole in it. You got that?” the man stayed quiet, scared for his life. Y/n stood back up and smiled.

“I’ll see you later, Johnny.” she said as she walked out of the room leaving the man screaming out her name over and over again. She walked down the familiar hallway again, getting into the elevator with William.

“Let’s go, Will.” the elevator door closed, it started moving and then it opened at the 1st floor. Y/n walked out first and then William behind, Dylan was already holding the door open which caused her to smile.

“Thank you, boys.” she said as she climbed into the back seat. When the door closed her phone ran, it was Tom.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hello, love. How’s everything going?”

“Everything went smoothly. How bout you? Is the plan in motion?”

“It is. Everything is being handled as we speak.”

“Great! I have to meet up with some business partners I wanna negotiate with so i’ll get you when i get out okay?”

“Alright, love. We’ll talk later. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.” she smiled and then hung up as the car came to a stop in front of Le Royal. It was a very famous hotel that had it’s very own casino with the same name. Dylan helped her out of the car and she made her way to the entrance with William right behind her. Her heels clacked on the marble floors of the hotel lobby. Everyone stared at her in awe, only people in the business knew who she really was and what she did. They walked to the casino side of the lobby and went up a long glass staircase. It led them to big white doors that led to a small waiting room with the secretary typing quickly on her computer. Y/n walked towards her and stood in front of the counter, making the woman look up from her device.

“May i help you?” she asked in a bitchy tone which made Y/n go serious and angry.

“Yes, I have a meeting with Mr. Matthews.” she said coldly, giving the woman a killing look.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” she spit out, turning and walking towards the office. Once at the door, she knocked and waited for the man to give her mention to enter.

“Come in!” screamed the man from inside alerting William to open to the door and letting Y/N walk in first.

“Y/n Holland, welcome! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” the man smiled as he shook her hand and introduced himself to William after.

“It’s nice to meet you, Adam. Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your business.” she said as she sat down in front of his desk and crossed her legs.

“Same goes to you. You and your husband have left a really big impression on all of us.”

“Oh, well thank you.” she chuckled as he leaned on his elbows on his desk.

“So, what kind of business are we talking about?”

“Oh well. I came here to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal exactly?” he asked leaning back on his chair and crossing his legs.

“I wanna buy the hotel.” she said seriously, making him laugh dryly and shake his head.

“I’m not selling, Y/n.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” he stopped laughing and moved his hand signaling her to continue.

“I wanna buy so you can be in charge of everything while I'm gone. You’d report back to me or Tom. You’d get 25% of all income.” the room fell silent, Adam kept thinking about every single scenario of what would happen if he accepted.

“What would I be doing, Y/n?”

“We wanna use the casino for every exchange and to sell our little things that everyone seems to love. I assure you, Adam, you’re gonna get triple the clientele if they know what you’re gonna have.” he looked at her and scratched his eyebrow, standing up without another word. He made his way towards the glass windows, looking at the city below. Y/n played with her fingers, feeling nervous that maybe he didn’t want to go through with the deal. Even William knew she was nervous. After a few seconds, Adam turned around with his hands in his pockets, looked up and smiled.

“You have yourself a deal Mrs. Holland.” he said, extending his hand for her to shake. She stood up quickly and grabbed it, shaking it.

“Thank you so much, Adam. You won’t regret this.”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Y/n. Call me anytime to schedule the first special casino night.” he said putting his other hand over hers.

“Of course. I’ll call you tonight with my husband to schedule everything. Have a nice day, Mr. Matthews.” she smiled taking her hands out of his grasp and walking towards the door that William opened for her to walk out. They made their way downstairs to the lobby when Y/n came to an immediate stop.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?” William asked, standing in front of her.

“I don’t know if you know but I kind of have a sixth sense, Will. I don’t trust that man.” she said rummaging through her purse.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I need you to go to the main office of this building and plug this in into one of the computers.” Y/n whispered holding up a small pendrive.

“While you’re doing that i’ll be having a couple drinks at the bar, just looking around. Checking what I have to work with.” she said looking around.

“I can’t do that, ma’am. Mr. Holland gave me direct orders to not leave your side.”

“Well he’s not here right now, William. I won’t rat you out okay? But please, get me that information.” she said turning to him while taking off her glasses and giving him pleading eyes. He sighed and nodded making Y/n squeal.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be in the bar, find me when you’re done okay?”

“Alright.” he said and turned walking towards the back doors of the lobby.

30 minutes went by when William finally walked out. He turned the corner and saw his boss drinking her martini while looking at the ceiling, the walls, the employees, the bar countertop and the alcohol bottle in front of her. Every detail was important for her, to think of different ways to work with that place.

“Mrs. Holland.” William said breaking Y/n’s trance. She looked at him and smiled as he held up the pendrive she had given him.

“Is it there?” she asked, getting down from the bar stool.

“Every last bit, ma’am.” he said, giving it to her. She chuckled and patted him on the chest.

“Good job, Will. Let’s go home.” Y/n said and walked towards the exit of the hotel where Dylan was already waiting in the car.

When they arrived at the mansion, Y/n walked straight to her bedroom where Tom was taking a shower. She took off her heels so he wouldn’t hear her walk in, unzipped her dress and tied her hair up, slowly making her way to the bathroom. The shower door was foggy but she could still see her husband’s silhouette. Y/n pushed it open and stepped in quickly. She placed her hand on his back making him jump and quickly turn around.

“Sorry to scare you.” she whispered, making him sigh in relief.

“It’s alright, darling.” he said as he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him. They looked at each other’s eyes for a while until he leaned in and kissed her passionately. She pulled away and leaned her forehead against his.

“Did you get it?” he whispered, making her smile.

“Yeah, all of it.” she whispered back knowing exactly what he was talking about. Tom chuckled and grabbed her face, pulling her into a long kiss. She wrapped her arms around her neck while he moved his to her waist. Suddenly, he grabbed her ass cheek, moving her against the wall. Both of them feeling content about they’re new multi million dollar deal.

taglist: @ilovefandoms102 @themaddies-obx @guillerminacaba @teenwishes08 @runawayolives

#tom hollnad #tom holland x reader #mob! tom holland x reader #mob!reader #mob!au #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #mob!tom #tom holland fic #mr. & mrs. holland #mob! tom holland x mob! reader

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toastedkiwi · 4 years

Text

Fangirl

Summary: Chris meets you, his celebrity crush, at the Grammys.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

“This is your first red carpet of the Grammys. How does it feel?” A reporter asked.

“Pretty good. I’m surprised that I was invited and that they want me to present,” Chris said.

“Well of course! You’re Captain America,” she said.

Chris chuckled.

“Who’s Captain America most excited to see?” The reporter asked.

“I think Captain America might like to see Cher or Elton John,” Chris joked.

“But I’m pretty excited to see Y/n,” he continued.

“You’re a fan of hers?”

“Huge. Huge fan. I’m obsessed. I listen to a lot of her music. My brother Scott teases me about it a lot. But I just relate to her music so much,” Chris said. “Her music has even gotten me through some stuff and especially breakups. She’s really inspiring and I love that she’s so out there and that she doesn’t seem to care about what other people think.”

“What’s your favorite song of hers?” She asked.

“God! There’s so many good ones,” he groaned.

“C’mon! If you had to choose one to listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be?” The reporter asked.

Chris whined trying to wrack his brain to think of the perfect song.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Chris hears.

He turns his head and there you are. You’re 10 feet away from him. He’s never been this close to you. And you’re just so gorgeous in the sheer Christian Dior dress. He’s practically drooling over you.

“Y/N!” The reporter called out.

“No!” Chris quickly said turning to her. “Don’t! I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

You walk past without noticing him and Chris watches you make your way down the carpet with an echo of your name.

“I need a fucking drink. She was so close to me. I could’ve touched her,” Chris muttered holding himself as he still looks to try and spot you.

Soon enough, the night continues and he’s backstage. He just finished presenting with Scarlett. You spot him before he spots you. You gasped. You split away from your manager and go up to him.

“I love you,” is all you can say.

“I love you too,” is all he can say back.

You immediately hug him. He’s in shocked and he hugs you just as tightly. You’re both in heaven. Scarlett is in shock at what she’s seeing.

“Oh my god! I loved you in Gifted. I wasn’t too big into Marvel movies until I saw Gifted and I pretty much watched your entire cinematography after that,” you said talking as fast as you possibly could and you pulled away just enough to look at him. “I saw you on the carpet and I wanted to talk to you but you were talking with a reporter and I didn’t want to interrupt—.”

“Y/n,” your manager said.

“I gotta go,” you said clearly disappointed.

You turn to your manager stepping away from the actor’s grasp.

“Give him my personal number,” you said. “I’m not done embarrassing myself in front of him.”

You quickly rush off with some dancers leaving your manager with the two actors but not without hugging Scarlett and telling her that she’s beautiful and that you love her so much.

“I’ve never seen her fangirl this hard,” your manager said. “Now, can I have your phone, Mr. Evans?”

#chris evans fluff #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x famous!reader #chris evans x rockstar!reader #chris evans x popstar!reader #fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans drabble #chris evans x y/n #chris evans oneshot #chris evans one shot

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader-”The One That Got Away” Part 1

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

“They told me you’re here again,” you smile and there’s no answer. “Are you going to come in or do you want me to bring you something to eat? We’re closing soon, it’s almost 10pm.”

The blind Y/N extends the cane until it touches the recipient of her visit.

“I understand that you’re shy and there’s nothing wrong with it; you just need to tell me.”

“I’m not shy,” the deep tone interrupts.

“So are you coming in this time?” Y/N asks while the man grunts and she correctly guesses he’s getting up from his spot. “Follow me,” you encourage and he pulls the hoodie on his face, steadily walking behind the woman leading the way. “Today we have chicken soup and spaghetti with red sauce. That that I want to brag, but it turned out pretty good,” you giggle to lighten up the atmosphere: you’re aware it’s not easy for some living on the streets to acknowledge they require help.

“Mina!” you shout as you enter the spacious room. “Another portion please!”

“Sure thing!” the assistant’s energetic reply is perceived from beyond the counter.

“You can take a sit at any table, she’ll bring the food shortly,” you let him know and then loudly inquire: “Who else is here?”

“I’m here,” Silvia answers, slurping on her hot soup.

“Me too,” you hear Walter. “I also see Dave, Russell, Angie. The rest I’m not sure,” the 70 years old informs, pointing at the newcomer.

“Hey new guy, you have a name?” Angie licks her fork, digging in the pile of pasta afterwards.

The man is silent for a few moments, then mutters through his teeth:

“Jay.”

“You’re lucky there’s still food left, son! It’s crazy busy all the time,” Dave huffs. “This is the best Soup Kitchen in Gotham, and the lady standing in front of you a true angel!” one of the regulars states with such conviction it prompts cheers from the others left in the cafeteria at the end of the busy day.

“If only,” you laugh amused at the affirmation.

“Here you go; enjoy,“ Mina brings over a bowl of soup and a plate full of spaghetti to the man that’s been lurking around for the past two months but didn’t step into the building until today. Jay mumbles something resembling a “thanks” and by the sounds he makes slurping on the hot liquid one could say it’s very appreciated.

The volunteers would tell you if they spotted him outside the premises and you would usually take food to him, offering a place at a table which he refused; not the first or the last to show restrain when shown kindness.

You’re a bit surprised he decided to finally join the crowd; maybe he doesn’t like being around people.

“Mina, are you ok closing with John and Sandy? I have to open the bakery in the morning,” you explain although it’s not necessary.

“Yes, of course; told you should have went home an hour ago. They’re almost done with the dishes and we won’t have that much left to do after the last guests finish their meal. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. OK?” the young woman gives you a soft nudge towards the door and you feel the ground with the cane, eager to take a shower after the long day.

“Good night then,” you smile,” see you guys soon.”

“Good night!” several voices respond back.

The apartment is just three blocks away, conveniently situated on the top of the bakery you own: “Sweet Temptations” is one of the most popular bakeries in Gotham, slowly becoming a contender for the first position.

Once outside you stop for a few moments to enjoy the silence and the soft breeze on your cheeks before reprising your walk. Police cars alarms start blaring in the distance and you sigh, annoyed: quietness never lasts for too long in this damned city.

You turn left on Glissan Avenue and halt, carefully listening: you could swear you discerned some snickering ahead of you. Maybe not?...

A few more feet and your cane is abruptly yanked out of your hand, almost making you lose balance:

“Hey pretty girl, can I get a kiss in exchange for the stick?”

You straighten your shoulders, frowning:

“Randy, is that you?!”

“Umm…it’s possible,” he chuckles and you feel the air around, trying to find his body.

“I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your crap!” you admonish and want to continue but you get interrupted:

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know my brother’s an idiot!...Hey…Hey!!!! What the…,” the other young man yells and the noise of a loud punch and broken bone startles you. “Hey, leave my brother alone!!!!...Oh shit!” the turmoil of a struggle and more ruckus indicating a fight make you frantically search for your cell in the purse.

“What’s going on?” you ask, scared at the moans of pain.

“I think he broke my nose,” Randy manages to utter still dizzy from the unexpected attack. His sibling Steve is trying to defend himself from the aggressor, apparently without too much success since the thud reaching your ears indicates he got thrown on the concrete pavement.

“If…if you’re The Batman, I can assure you I’m not in any kind of danger!” you pant, scared about whatever the hell is happening. “I know them, please stop!”

“It’s not…it’s not The Batman…” Randy gags, the taste of his own blood making him nauseated.

“I’m calling 911!” the cell phone is taken out of the bag and Randy shrieks:

“He’s running away…”

“Please don’t call the cops,” Steve mutters, not having the strength to get up yet. “I’m sure they’re not gonna like the fact that two teenagers fresh out of the juvie already got involved into an altercation.”

“I can testify you got assaulted!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see anything,” Steve groans while his brother helps him up. “They might twist it against us and I don’t want to go back to detention.”

“Me neither,” Randy grumbles, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did you see who it was?” you inquire, placing the phone in your pocket; you sure don’t want to create any more trouble for them.

“No,” the cane is returned to the anxious Y/N. “His mug was covered with a hoodie.”

***************

Next morning, 5:43am

The bell dinging makes you aware someone entered the bakery.

“I’m sorry, we’re still closed until 6am,” you announce to the customer while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hello Y/N, it’s me”, the familiar voice makes you smile.

“Good morning Mister Wayne; your box is ready,” you slide the package on the other side of the counter.

“Thank God! I hate early corporate meetings and this amazing stuff makes me wake up a bit, enough to seem like I’m interested, you know?” he soundlessly yawns and you burst out laughing.

“I’m glad it helps. Coffee?”

“Please!”

“The usual?”

“Naaah. Surprise me,” Bruce smirks and watches Y/N quite fascinated as she puts together his drink. Even if she can’t see, she moves with such ease and he takes a remorseful deep breath, wishing he could share his thoughts.

“Here you go Mister Wayne, triple shot. I think you need it today,” you hand over his cup and he takes a sip, smacking his lips in the process.

“This is very good,” Bruce praises your skills because lingering around the bakery for a few minutes it’s so much better that the dreadful meeting he’s about to attend. He takes a big stack of money from the inside pocket of his suit and hands it over to you.

“Are these…are these hundreds?!” you inquire, puzzled.

The lack of an answer confirms it.

“Mister Wayne, you don’t have to do this each time you come in. This is just... a lot again and the total for your box is only 46 dollars.”

“If I want to leave a tip, then I will. Share with your employees,” the stubborn heir suggests because this is how he usually convinces you to accept the money.

You want to protest but he keeps rambling on:

“There are also two checks in there: one for my monthly contribution to your charity, the other one you could say it’s an investment. Entirely up to you of course, but I would love for you to expand your business: a location next to the Wayne Tower would make me very happy. Every time I’m there pretending to be working I could run and get me a delicious treat to make my day better. ”

You blankly stare at him, deciding to speak up.

“Mister Wayne…You don’t have to do this… It wasn’t your fault…”

Bruce is grateful you can’t see his painful grimace at the candid words meant to alleviate the guilt of an event he failed to predict as both the main shareholder of Gotham National Bank and as his alter ego.

“You are not responsible for the lives that were lost. You just owned the bank, nothing more. It was very unfortunate, but please stop blaming yourself.”

He doesn’t comment yet, oddly enough paying attention to Y/N’s advice.

“You might not realize it, but you make this city a better place Mister Wayne; your generous donations truly make a difference. With your aid, my charity allows me to literally assist hundreds of those in need. That wouldn’t be possible without you. Take The Batman too for example; because of him this town is safer: he can’t get rid of all the rotten evil eating away at its core, but his watchful eye is a tremendous boost of hope for the rest of us. One person can’t do everything and he is not accountable for every bad action he cannot stop. You’re not more responsible than he is for the fate of others.”

Bruce sniffles, somehow relieved by the sudden monologue.

“You’re a good man, Mister Wayne. The tabloids might depict you as a carefree playboy, still they should mention your achievements also. Or at least bring up some details about that nice cologne you wear,” you giggle and his body relaxes at the small joke after being tense throughout the whole speech.

“It’s Dior,” he admits with a grin meant to alleviate the seriousness of what you just told him. And Bruce certainly appreciates it since he had no idea how much he craved to hear a confirmation of his own flaw: he is human after all, either as the rich billionaire or as The Batman. “Thank you…” he briefly touches your fingers while taking the box from the counter.

“I meant it Mister Wayne.”

“I know…” he sighs. “Think about the business proposal, OK?”

“I will,” you promise although you are not convinced it’s such a great plan on top of the numerous projects you’re involved in.

“I’ll see you next week,” Bruce promises and exits the pastry shop, abandoning its owner until their upcoming rendezvous.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You hope what you told him stuck in the back of his mind: remorse is a strong poison Bruce Wayne should stay away from at any cost, especially when he’s in the center of attention due to his social position. Plus, he’s not liable for the tragedy that occurred nearly three years ago, even if he believes otherwise…

You were working as a teller at Wayne National Bank for eight months and that day was nothing special until the shift was almost over. The 25 year old Y/N went downstairs with her drawer in order to go over her daily transactions and make sure there were no discrepancies. Moments later, a powerful explosion shook the building and leveled it out in a matter of seconds, taking down walls and people alike as it sunk into rubble.

The only survivor was you since you happened to be in the vault; the metal crate protected you from the blast and you were lucky the emergency response team dug you out from under the debris in time: Y/N nearly perished and woke up at the hospital days later blind and unable to cope with the news: on top of losing her eye-sight, she lost her co-workers too.

Bruce Wayne felt responsible: he took pride in having the most sophisticated and advanced security system in place, yet nothing is fool proof, including the engineers that built it and sold out the secrets to the wrong people for the right price.

The terrorist attack was claimed by the Triple Star gang, another one of their attempts to take over Gotham in the never-ending battle for the top spot with The Joker. And Gotham’s citizens got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Bruce paid for everyone’s funerals and handsomely rewarded the grieving families along with his public apologies; the media tried to shred him to pieces, dragging his name in the mud again. It all died out once the family members of those killed in the attack sided with the billionaire: there’s nothing more off-putting to the press than dust settling over sensationalism without backup evidence.

You used the share you received from your ex-employer to open the bakery and start the kitchen soup, both venues flourishing under your patronage. Bruce was a constant customer and donor from day one, which aided raise awareness to the point of Y/N becoming some sort of local celebrity: despite her blindness after surviving catastrophe, she found the strength to rise above the shattered pieces of her life and help the less fortunate, which gained her the nickname of Angel of Gotham.

“Y/N,” Shane gets you out of trance, “do you want the chocolate croissants on top shelves today?”

“Yes, by the apple fritters and blueberry muffins,” you answer while the rest of the opening shift brings out the trays with freshly baked pastries from the kitchen.

The bell dings and Andy rushes in, frantically repeating:

“I know I’m late! I know I’m late!”

“AGAIN!!!” almost everyone teases in the same time, the choir urging more clumsy excuses:

“I know, ok? I’m deeply sorry. My car died out!”

“AGAIN!!!” the crew mocks and the poor guy sniffles, flustered to the maximum and you decide to give him a break.

“It’s fine; go wash your hands.”

“Y/N,” Andy halts in front of you. “Mister Wayne’s limo is parked outside and his chauffeur said he wants to talk to you.”

“He’s still here?!” you grab your stick and walk around the counter, heading outside the bakery.

“This way Miss,” the driver holds the limousine’s door opened until you get inside, slamming it shut as soon as you are next to your former boss. But something is off… the man doesn’t smell like Bruce’s cologne.

“Mister Wayne?...” you hesitantly mumble and the weird chuckle makes you cringe.

“Nope. Just rented a limo like his and waited until he left so I can take over. Luckily enough we saw an employee rushing in and he had no clue that the rich, pretty boy is not the one requesting a meeting.”

You panic and try to exit the car but it’s already moving and the door won’t open.

“Calm down, would you? If I wanted to hurt you I would have already done it.”

You exhale, nervously adjusting yourself in the comfortable seat.

“Who are you?” Y/N carefully stirs the conversation.

“A philanthropist interested in bestowing my fortune upon those in need,” the strange snickering comes to an end. “Here’s my business card,” your hands are placed on the person’s face without any warning. “Well, can you guess?”

“Umm…” you gulp, anxiously touching the skin. “Maybe mid-thirties…”

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” the man snorts, somewhat amused. “Go on.”

“Handsome…”

“Nailed it!!” he snarls and it gives you goosebumps.

“Green hair…”

His crazy silver grin diminishes a bit.

“Blue eyes,” and your eyes focusing on his astonish The Joker which is not an easy thing to accomplish.

“You…you can see!” he growls and your hands slide off his face. The King of Gotham had you on surveillance for months before he made contact today and nothing indicated the revelation he witnessed by pure chance.

“I was wondering if you‘ll show up,” your change in attitude baffles the usual emotionless King of Gotham. “Are you interested in money laundering throughout my charity?” you cold tone skips to the main topic. “Others have asked and no, I don’t do that; I don’t care about how much it would put back in my account. Dirty money has no place in my…”

“Says the perfect Angel lying to the world about her handicap,” The Joker sarcastically cuts you out.

“I’m not lying,” you mutter. “My vision comes and goes, it’s a neurological anomaly after the injury I sustained. I was warned that might happen and frankly I don’t have to announce it on TV or to my doctor when I’m blind and when I’m not. It’s easier to deal with it since at one point I might find myself in the blackness forever.”

“Interesting,“ The Joker huffs, crossing his legs. “I couldn’t care less about your sneaky ways; I’m not here to negotiate a deal. I’m here to get what I want. Money laundry will bring you more funds to do whatever the hell you do, help people and all that,” J flares his arms around, done with the charade.

“Yes, I help them and you kill them,” Y/N gives The Clown a mean glare. “Or beat them up for no reason,” you hint at the two teenagers he attacked since you actually saw him do it.

“Somebody gotta keep the balance,” he jokes about it like it’s some kind of funny topic.

“Mister Joker, I am here to help people and that’s it, “an apparent serene Y/N grumbles even if her heart is pounding out of her chest. “Can you please drop me off at the back entrance of my bakery? If I go missing or end up dead, people will notice. My disappearance or demise wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t need more unwanted attention, do you?” you play the best card you have because frankly you have zero aces in your sleeve.

The Joker sucks on his teeth, debating upon this dumfounding outcome that didn’t ruin his day; from time to time he loves a good challenge and the opportunity basically jumped at him so to speak. He gets easily bored and shit, this little project isn’t boring at all. Turned out to be quite interesting.

“Hey Frost!” The Joker shouts. “Let’s take McGillivray Street and return this lost Angel to her business. We don’t want a poor blind woman to get lost in this huge city; we’ll consider this our good deed for the year!”

“Of course sir,” the henchman switches lanes and you strive to remain composed because showing weakness could mean disaster while in the company of the unpredictable psychopath.

The limo takes a left and in a few seconds you reach your destination since Frost basically just slowly drove around the block. The fancy vehicle stops and you get out, preparing to bail when The Joker interrogates:

“Who are you really, hm?” J suspiciously squints his eyes.

You bent over to look at him, cautiously choosing your words:

“I’m the one that got away, Mister Joker. The only one.”

He puffs, signaling you to close the door.

“Good for you, sugar. We’ll keep in touch,” and he yanks the door out of your hand since he doesn’t have patience to wait for you to close it.

Oh my God, you think and reprise your stroll, sensing the concrete with the walking stick. What was that?! you shiver, just a few feet away from the back entrance of the pastry shop. How am I… but you can’t continue the argument since a van slams the breaks right by you, five guys quickly running out and pulling you inside.

“Did you see that boss?” Frost inquires, still waiting at the red light while watching the rearview mirror. “It was so fast nobody noticed.”

“It’s them,” The Joker sneers.

“Do we… … do anything?” Jonny throws the option out there for the heck of it.

“Do you have to fucking ask??!!” his boss shouts. “This is my goddamned town, not theirs! I decide who lives or dies, who gets kidnapped and who doesn’t. ME, not the Triple Star gang!!! I am sick of them interfering with my plans!”

“Call for reinforcements and discreetly follow?”

“No, tell the guys waiting to escort us on Andresen Avenue to intercept the van and follow it. We need a plan.”

“Yes sir,” Frost smirks, craving to take on another invigorating assignment since today was quite a dull day.

Back in the van, the men keeping you captive in between them didn’t articulate a single sentence yet. They have no clue you can see so they didn’t bother cover your head with a cloth. You know The King of Gotham is not present but you have to go on with it; what other choice do you have in this dangerous situation?

“Mister… Mister Joker?” you plead. “I’m sure we can…”

“The Joker?!” somebody laughs, finally talking and everyone snickers like it’s the best stand –up comedy act they ever heard. “No honey: this is the competition.” **************

Five days afterwards, 6pm

Everyone at the soup kitchen is eating in silence, the usual cheerful chit chatting absent from the premises: Y/N has been missing for five days, gone without a trace and despite all the efforts, her whereabouts are still unknown.

“Something bad happened,” Mike shakes his head, worried. “I can feel it,” he wipes his teary eyes.

“She wouldn’t just abandon everything and flee…” Clara whispers to her fellow table mates. “I’ve been homeless for a long time and this is the first place I found some real help, you know? Thanks to her I have a job interview next week,” the woman’s voice breaks. “Nobody would give me a chance and she put in a good word; I might have an opportunity to actually…” Clara blows her nose in a tissue, unable to finish her confession.

“We’re in the same boat,” George turns around from the nearby table and his eyes get big when he recognized who the man entering the establishment is. “Holy…”

The Joker is holding Y/N in his arms, both looking like they escaped a war: dusty, ripped clothes and visible bruises to match the unusual view seen by the 137 souls eating there for the moment. You are unconscious and a few people try to get up, startled.

“SIT DOWN!!!” The Joker screams, lifting you higher in his arms.

“Mister Joker, we gotta go!” Frost advises while keeping the door opened; the other goons temporarily blocked the traffic at The Clown’s orders. A few onlookers on the street are already dialing 911 and J is aware he can’t linger, but he won’t ignore an outburst either:

“Tell everyone The Devil brought your Angel back !! ME, not The Batman!!!” the insane green haired man barks. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?!” he addresses everyone as he places you on an empty bench and hurries outside, taking one last glance behind to see a weary Y/N barely opening her eyes that cannot focus.

And The Joker knows that after the events he whiteness too, The Angel of Gotham is in complete darkness again.