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venus-haze · 2 years

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The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Part 2 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: The whole world knows you’re engaged to Elvis. As you try to navigate the increasingly troubling relationship with your boss-turned-fiance, you seek answers—and a way out—before you legally become Mrs. Presley. No matter what you do, it seems like he’s always two steps ahead of you.

Notes: I want to say thank you so much for the overwhelming support for part 1 of this fic (I can’t believe it has almost 300 notes)🖤 I hadn’t anticipated the overwhelmingly positive response or the interest in a second part. I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. I think this part is darker than part 1, so please look at the warnings before reading this because I added additional ones. I left it open for a part 3, if enough people are interested. Requests are open🔮 Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, obsessive and manipulative behavior, physical violence (blood), and abuse of power, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Emetophobia warning for one short part of the fic. Some sexually explicit content that involves coercion. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 3

After the extremely public engagement, you could hardly watch TV for weeks. The press was having a field day calling you a gold-digging home wrecker, crafting stories about how the engagement ring was one of the most expensive on record, and distorting your and Elvis’ professional history, as if you’d deliberately taken the job in ‘68 as part of a years-long scheme to slowly chip away at the foundation of his and Priscilla’s relationship, which was showing signs of strain by the time you met them, away.

You knew you wouldn’t get any peace by trying to be combative with him, not with how unpredictable his behavior had become. Instead, you had to exhaust yourself on a daily basis, trying to keep what remained of your boundaries while not setting him off, which was easier said than done. It was like he’d become physically attached to you, and would sink into a dangerous paranoia when you were away from him for too long. As you played with the ostentatious diamond ring on your finger, you worried that marrying him wouldn’t be enough, that he’d resort to increasingly deranged and desperate measures to keep you from leaving.

There was only so much of it you could blame on the drugs, as he caught on to your distaste for Dr. Nick and began using his ‘services’ less and less, which could have meant he was going through withdrawals. No matter how much you tried not to, you kept making excuses for him, as if he weren’t a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

He didn’t expend this much effort trying to mend his and Priscilla’s relationship, as far as you were aware. From what he’d told you, he woke up one day and she just left Graceland with Lisa Marie. If only you could be so lucky.

You could understand the newfound distaste Priscilla had developed toward you, greeting you with a polite coldness a few days prior when she brought Lisa to spend a few hours with Elvis. You wanted so desperately to pull her aside and let her know none of it was true, that you didn’t even want to marry him, but you were never away from him long enough to be able to do so. When she had picked up Lisa later that evening, Elvis was clingier than usual, perhaps watching his ex-wife leave again, move so freely, made him more determined to ensure your proximity to him.

When you’d told him you wanted a small, private wedding, he was irate, going on an irrational rant where he accused you of being ashamed to be with him. You were only able to calm him down with claims that you thought it would be more intimate if only a handful of people were in attendance. "It’d be so special," you’d said softly. "Why let people who won’t appreciate it ruin our day?" He was silent for a few agonizing moments, before conceding that you’d made a good point. Considering it a win to get him to agree to your reasoning, you found yourself having to pick and choose your battles when it came to him.

In a little less than a week, his annual residency at the International would be over, and he had a while in between the marathon of a US tour he normally did. You knew that meant a few weeks in Graceland, and you were oddly looking forward to it. The mansion had acres of land to get lost in, and far more privacy than the International. You couldn’t even go anywhere in Vegas without being recognized, especially since any time you wanted to go out, at least two security guards accompanied you if Elvis couldn’t go with you himself. It’d become so much of a pain that the only place you had any peace was hiding out backstage, where the band and the Memphis Mafia at least still treated you like a normal person.

Elvis had always been generous with you, but since the engagement, it was overwhelming. The dress he had broken the night he made his affection known to you was replaced with five others of the same style, in various patterns and colors. You appreciated that he didn’t try to overhaul your wardrobe, but you found it growing at an unmanageable rate as he always wanted you to match him. This included jewelry and accessories from designer brands you could only dream about in storefront windows before, but getting them this way made you never want to so much as look at them.

“You don’t listen to what they say about you in the press, do ya?” he asked, one night, when you expressed discomfort with the lavish gifts he’d give you. “See baby, I told you, from now on it’s you and me. They get to you, and they fill your head with so much garbage ya can’t see straight. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened to you.”

You shook your head, almost dizzy from how quickly his mood changed from the excitement at presenting you with yet another new pair of shoes to anxiety at your response. He continued, impassioned, “You know they say those things because those miserable sons of bitches don’t want us to be happy. I don’t–maybe you shouldn’t watch TV anymore.”

“Elvis, I hardly watch TV as it is, and when I do it’s Carol Burnette’s show or Columbo,” you protested, “and the one joke Carol Burnette made about me was funny, anyway.”

“No one should be makin’ jokes about you. I don’t care how funny they are,” he said, ending the argument.

You were aware of the incident where he was so drugged up and paranoid one night he shot each of the TVs on the wall. Not wanting a repeat of that, you kept yourself entertained with music and magazines instead. You couldn’t even go to the movies because someone would notice you.

The last night you were in Vegas, he kept the day free to take you out shopping. It was uncomfortable, in all honesty. People would stop to peer through the windows of the half-dozen or so boutiques you had gone to, just to get a look at the king and his bride-to-be.

Then, when you thought all you’d have to do was sit through dinner and be free of Vegas for a few months, Elvis surprised you with VIP seats to a variety show at another hotel on the strip. You showed the enthusiasm that you knew was expected of you when he told you. Sometimes you’d treat yourself to a night out, going to different variety shows either by yourself or with a few coworkers. It was always fun, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach on the way to the hotel.

The two of you were immediately bombarded by crowds of people the second you stepped out of the car. Well, it was mostly for him, but some people gave you insincere congratulations on the engagement. You shielded your face with your hand when you noticed cameras flashing, and tugged on Elvis’ coat sleeve. He gave a final wave to the crowd, leading you inside the hotel.

As with most hotels on the strip, it was lavish and gaudy, with a busy casino, fully stocked bar, and an auditorium for a residency. Having lived in one for so long, you figured you could probably map the place in less than five minutes of walking around. Ignoring the whispers and murmurs as the hotel’s manager led Elvis and you to your table in the auditorium, you let yourself admire the place. A waiter immediately appeared with complimentary champagne and handed you your menus.

You hardly looked at the menu when you spotted a familiar dish, and decided on that. Elvis took a bit more time, but when he closed his menu, he put his arm around you, giving you a kiss. You kissed him back, figuring you could at least try to have fun. He seemed like he was in a good mood, and you had learned to enjoy that while it lasted.

The two of you were served your food before anyone else. You picked at your meal, sticking to the champagne instead. You hoped your appetite would return at some point during the show, one of the highlights of going out with Elvis was getting to order whatever you wanted at restaurants without having to worry about the bill.

You rested your head on Elvis’ shoulder when the emcee walked onto the stage, clapping along with the rest of the audience. You knew how the variety shows went, usually a comedian to warm up the crowd, a musical act or two, showgirls, a stand-up comedian, and some comedy sketches to round out the show, not necessarily in that order. Sometimes there was a magician thrown in, which you didn’t care for since they all did the same tricks over and over.

The warm-up comedian got some solid laughs out of you, and you felt your tension ease as the other acts went on stage. The show only had one musical act for the evening, a husband and wife team who nailed all of their duets and had you and Elvis practically dancing in your seats. You let the champagne flow, feeling better as the show went on.

Next were the showgirls, adorned in sparkling leotards that perfectly caught the stage lights so when they danced, it looked like the room was covered in glittering stars. While they mostly did the classic choreographed line dances, some of them did acrobatic tricks across the stage, no small feat in heels.

The emcee introduced the stand-up comedian for the night, someone you’d never heard of before, but figured would be good with how the rest of the show was going. He was. In fact, he had you in stitches until he got through two punchlines and then changed his tune.

“It looks like we have some very special guests tonight in the audience here, folks,” the stand-up comedian said, pointing right to where you and Elvis were sitting.

You wanted to slink down, hide beneath the table, but Elvis’ hand flew to your thigh, keeping a vice grip on it. Chattering and applause overtook the room, especially when the spotlight turned to the two of you.

You could feel your face heat up, resisting the urge to cry. Instead you hid your face in Elvis’ chest. He moved his hand from your thigh to hold you close, while you assumed he waved and smiled at the rest of the audience.

“The king of rock n’ roll, Elvis Presley, and his bashful bride!” the comedian announced.

Less than two weeks ago, you could be in a place like this and no one would acknowledge you. Now, wherever you went, whatever you did, turned into a spectacle.

When you could no longer feel the heat of the spotlight on you, you sat up, and pretended to listen to the next joke in the comedian’s set.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you whispered to Elvis.

“Alright, baby,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You kept your head down as you made a beeline for the bathroom. Locking yourself in the nearest empty stall, you put your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. Why did he have to do that? The night would’ve been perfect if he hadn't done that.

Finally calming yourself down enough, you left the stall to wash your hands, focusing on the swan-head faucets attached to the sink. They were pretty, but something about seeing the water flow from the open beaks seemed odd. So caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn’t realized you weren’t alone in the bathroom while you were drying your hands.

“The future Mrs. Elvis Presley, fancy running into you in here,” a girlish voice said from behind you.

You could feel your stomach tense up. “My name’s Y/N,” you said, turning around to look at her.

Dressed in a gold sequin leotard with her elaborate makeup and hair, she was one of the showgirls from earlier in the variety act. She was beautiful, but looked almost unimpressed as she put her hands on her hips, giving you a once over.

“You know, I admire you. I really do,” she said. “I mean, getting a man like that wrapped around your finger is no easy feat, especially enough to divorce the mother of his only child. I guess the unassuming act goes far, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” you said defensively.

She snickered. “Well, maybe in a few years, I’ll take a crack at it.”

Be my guest.

As soon as she left, you ran back into the stall and threw up. You weren’t sure why her words struck you so harshly, perhaps being physically confronted with the public perception of you was a shock, as Elvis did his best to keep you blocked out from it all. Not to mention, it was like you had no identity anymore, not one outside of him anyway. No one cared about what your name was or how you felt.

You flushed your sick down the toilet, wishing you could disappear with it. Emerging from the stall yet again, you washed your hands before splashing some water on your face in a futile attempt to freshen up a little bit. You reached for the basket on the counter that had individually wrapped mints, ripped a few out of the packaging, and shoved them in your mouth. It didn’t make you feel any better, but at least you wouldn’t return with bad breath.

When you sat back down at the table, you knew you were visibly shaking. Elvis looked at you, eyebrows furrowed as your hand trembled while you picked up your glass of water, which you’d been ignoring for the champagne.

“Darlin’, you alright?” he asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, “I just need a ginger ale.”

“If ya don’t feel good, we can leave.”

“I don’t want to ruin the night.”

“You ain’t ruinin’ nothin’,” he said. “We’ll be back in Graceland tomorrow. The fresh air will do ya good.”

The stand-up comedian seemed to be wrapping up his set anyway, so all you’d be missing were the handful of sketches that wrapped up the evening while everyone drank coffee and paid their checks. How long had you even been in there?

Elvis escorted you out of the auditorium, and the hotel manager hastily led the two of you down a service corridor so you could leave without incident. Elvis spoke with the hotel manager while you waited for the car to pull up. As soon as it reached the curb, you practically dove into it. Elvis joined you, and the drive back to the International was uncomfortably silent.

He didn’t say much on the elevator ride up to the suite, except to check how you were feeling. As much as you hated the suite, it was at least a space that was somewhat yours. Still, you could tell he was on edge as you changed out of your clothes from the day and into your nightwear.

“Y/N, what happened back at the show?” he asked. He hadn’t changed yet, which was odd. Usually he liked the two of you to get ready for bed together.

“Something upset my stomach, is all,” you answered.

He hummed dismissively. “Yeah? You hardly touched your food.”

“The alcohol,” you stammered, “it doesn’t agree with—“

“Don’t lie to me, goddammit!” he roared, his face red, nostrils flaring as he pointed at you. “Were you in there doin’ somethin’ you weren’t supposed to do? I saw a man walk back from the bathrooms right before you did, lookin’ mighty pleased with himself.”

Your eyes widened at his accusation. “Why would I do something like that?”

“‘Cause you’re embarrassed of bein’ with me! Don’t want no big wedding, always hidin’ and coverin’ your face while we’re out together,” he spat. “Too good for your damn has-been husband.”

“You said you didn’t want me having to deal with all those people! That they’d put garbage in my head!” you argued.

He grabbed your face, squeezing your jaw so tightly you thought the rings on his fingers would break the skin on your face. “Oh, you’ve got somethin’ in your head, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll get ya all straightened out.”

You knew you were crying, with the way your vision blurred, but you could hardly tell anything else. You began to panic, and before you could even think about it, you hit him. Hard. He released your face with an unexpected force that sent you to the ground as he brought his hand to his own face in shock. If you weren’t terrified of the gun case before, you sure as hell were now.

The next few seconds seemed to drag on for eternity, your breathing labored as you waited for his response. Drops of blood pooled in the corner of his mouth, and he collected it on one of his fingers. To your surprise, he looked down at you, a terrifying fire in his eyes.

“You don’t want this to be easy, do ya, darlin’?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you choked out, trying to crawl backward away from him.

“You will be.”

He grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into the tender skin. You looked at him with fearful eyes, which amused him as he pulled you in for a painful kiss. You whimpered when he dug his teeth into your bottom lip. It was as if your act of self-preservation set off something primal, animalistic in him. His vice grip was doing you no favors, and you didn’t want to start thinking about how you were going to cover those bruises with the wedding coming up.

When he threw you onto the bed, you couldn’t tell if it was your blood or his on your arm. Regardless, seeing the blood smeared on your body sent you into yet another state of panic, and you began kicking wildly as he climbed over you, unbuckling his belt.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry,” you pleaded.

“I have half a mind to tan your hide,” he growled, ripping your panties down so they were between your knees. “I never hit you, have I? But you get one chance to and you fuckin’ take a swing at me, huh?”

“It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s a mistake you’re never gonna make again, darlin’,” he said, venom dripping from the term of endearment. “I’ve been too nice. Let you think you run things around here.”

“No, no I–”

He held you down, his face inches from yours. “Sometimes I think I love you too much.”

You almost had to laugh. Almost. The wicked grin that spread across his face when he reached down, feeling the wetness between your legs. Without hesitation, you moaned at the feeling, but he brought his fingers up just as quickly, sticking them in his mouth and sucking your juices off of them. Your mouth hung open as you watched him, and he looked smug when he pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

“Guess you do too,” he teased, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his lips, it was too much–too vulgar or too intimate, you didn’t know, but everything from there was like watching a movie out of order. You couldn’t remember when he’d done what or when. At some point he’d gotten undressed and tore your lingerie to pieces. You could feel that he’d finished in you multiple times, and your ass felt like hell.

“Rise and shine, darlin’. Graceland’s waitin’ for us,” he said, as you blinked awake.

Part of you was surprised to actually wake up, he’d been so wild the night before you were sure he’d kill you. Instead, you felt the familiar aches and bruises from the first night he, well, you didn’t want to think about it. You slowly sat up to see him looking at you with a handsome smile on his face, his eyes lighting up when they met yours.

You looked at the cut that was on his top lip where your hand had made contact. It was small, but still visible to anyone who really took the time to look. Your fingers hovered over it, your chest felt tight. He kissed your fingers before taking your hand in his.

“We’re gonna move past last night, alright? I just get a little jealous is all. I don’t wanna lose you.” he said calmly, as if his behavior was normal. “I love you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, not missing the pointed look he gave you before adding, “I love you too.”

He gave you a kiss, and you could feel the cut against your lips.

“Does it hurt, honey?” you asked, your habit of caring for him kicking in.

“No, I’m just gonna tell people I cut myself shavin’,” he said.

“I can dress it. There’s peroxide in the cabinet—“

“Baby, it’s fine. All I’m concerned about it gettin’ back home with you.”

Most of the stuff in the suite that would be going with you to Graceland had been packed in the days before. All that was left was what you were wearing, the few toiletries still in the bathroom, and the clothes you’d shoved into a carry-on. While there wasn’t a set schedule to return to Memphis, everyone wanted to go sooner rather than later, and you weren’t about to hold anyone up.

The two hour plane ride to Memphis was actually pretty fun. You played cards with some of the Memphis Mafia while Elvis spoke with his father. You lost horribly in each round, but everyone was cracking jokes and talking. It felt like back when everything was normal.

You knew the airport would be a circus when the plane landed, but you weren’t expecting the sheer amount of people that threatened to spill over onto the runway. Elvis waved to the fans, who were screaming and wailing in a way that was almost biblical. He kept his hand on the small of your back, ushering you into one of the cars that was waiting near the plane.

In theory, it should have been a quick drive to Graceland, but it ended up taking almost double the amount of time because of how many people were crowding the car at nearly every intersection. You knew Elvis loved his fans, he told you over and over again how grateful he was, after all, you’d been one too. You could tell, though, that he was getting tired, and you held his hand in an attempt to comfort him. He gave you a grateful smile, kissing your hand.

After what felt like hours, you arrived at Graceland, the gates slowly opening as the car inched forward so it wouldn’t run anyone over. You almost considered getting out right there and just walking up to the mansion, but thought better of it. Once the car passed through the gates, it pulled up to the front door, and you wasted no time in getting out of the car.

“Home sweet home,” Elvis said as he opened the door for you.

You were never more glad to be at Graceland. Even though you knew it was just the same prison with a different look, you were exhausted and welcomed the privacy it afforded. Of course, the calm would be over again in the next few days as the usual crew of friends and family made their way over to use Graceland as their stomping grounds, and you had to plan a wedding.

For now, though, Elvis was as tired as you were, and the two of you made your way upstairs. The energy in the familiar house shifted as you stood in the doorway of the master bedroom.

You’d never actually been alone with him in his bedroom at Graceland before. You always stayed in a guest room in another part of the house, and he usually conducted business in the living room or dining room. The only times you’d gone in before was with Priscilla to let her do your hair and makeup, or sometimes she’d give you pieces from her overflowing closet.

It was similar to his suite at the International in its style and the color scheme throughout. You approached Priscilla’s closet–no, it was yours now–slowly, cautiously, as if something would jump out at you the second you opened it. Instead, when you slid the door aside, you saw your clothes hanging up neatly, the shoe rack filled with your shoes.

“Honey, where’s the, um–my–” you didn’t know how to word it. Nothing in that room was yours. “My sleep stuff.”

“Intimates should be in one of the dresser drawers,” he said, as he changed into a robe. “Though I’d prefer if ya wore nothin’ at all.”

You hated how your face heated up at his teasing. You walked over to the dresser and found what you were looking for in the middle drawer, grabbing the set that was on top.

Hastily, you changed, as to not keep Elvis waiting while he sat on the bed. He opened his arms when you approached, and you settled in beside him, nestled next to his chest. He held you close, kissing the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

"Why do you love me?" you asked.

You knew what he felt for you wasn’t love, but rather a manifestation of misplaced obsession and fear. Still, you needed to know—why me?

"No one else knows me like you do, takes the time to talk with me and check on me," he said softly, as if lost in his thoughts. "You always take care of me. When I met you, no one had done that for a long time. Mama died after I left for basic, and I had to be the one to hold everything together for the family, halfway ‘cross the world by my lonesome and line everyone else’s pockets."

You nodded, listening to his explanation of his behavior, trying desperately to understand where you fit into this. Out of everyone in his entourage, you’d known him for the least amount of time in comparison.

"You’ve never asked me for a thing, ya know that? Everyone else it’s clothes and cars and god knows what else, and I don’t mind it, I take care of my own. You don’t want anything outta me. If I lose you, I think I’ll lose myself," he said, taking a long pause before adding, "I wish you’d met my mama. I think she woulda liked you."

There it was, that vulnerability that made you feel bad for him. Him of all people. The childhood of hardship and abandonment that was was only held together by his mother, the stabilizing figure in his life, who he’d lost far too soon. It was what made you feel like you needed to take care of him in the first place, that beneath this larger than life man was a sad and lonely boy. You knew that this was far from the truth, as more than anything else it was likely the root of the abandonment issues that evolved into the disaster of an Oedipus complex you found yourself the object of, but your heart still ached for him. Fuck. Now you were crying.

He had you so mixed up in your feelings you didn’t even know if he was playing up what he knew you wanted to hear, or was sharing all of this with you. His expression was unreadable as he observed you crying into your hands. A few moments later, he slammed his fist against the headboard, making you flinch.

"What? Was that not good enough for you?" he snapped.

"No," you choked out. "No, I just—I don’t understand."

"What don’t you understand? I love you, goddammit! You act so ungrateful sometimes it does my head in!"

"Love doesn’t look like this, Elvis!"

"How would you know?" he spat out, his venomous words biting your heart. "No one’s ever loved you right, ‘cept me."

"Stop," you mumbled. "I’m sorry."

"Now tell me why you love me," he demanded.

You wiped the tears from your face, sniffling as you looked at him. His expression was still hostile, but you could remember every smile and wink he ever gave you. You thought back to before all of this happened, what made you love him in the first place, feel so devoted to him despite all of the warning signs.

"Being there for you, taking care of you, it felt like the most important thing in the world, because you make me feel like I matter. You’re kind even when people don’t deserve it. Generous to a fault. I mean, you made the whole world fall in love with you. How could I not?" you explained.

You struggled to find the words to properly express yourself further, moving your hands as a placeholder to collect your thoughts. "The way you dream, make the impossible seem like it can become reality, it’s incredible. When we first met you said you were gonna travel the world, how you wanted to spread your wings and fly. I wanted to fly with you."

“We can still fly, Y/N.”

“Where, Elvis? Where else is there to go?”

"You and me, to the Rock of Eternity," he whispered.

You glanced down at your engagement ring. Seems like he already got that covered.

“Well, we can go tomorrow. I’m tired now, and I know there’s gonna be stuff to do in the morning,” you said, feigning a yawn.

“You’re lucky you got such a great boss; he gave ya the week off to spend with your fiance,” he said, eliciting a laugh from you.

“Yeah, he’s a real stand-up guy,” you smiled.

You wished he could always be like this, kind and playful, not the unpredictable lover you’d come to fear. You couldn’t understand how so much had changed in a few weeks, and yet in that moment it felt like nothing had. You would have been glad to marry this Elvis, your best friend. Whether or not that man had ever existed was a mystery, but you knew your life would be over the second you said ‘I do’ to the man you were sitting next to.

Taglist: @re3kin, @bobthefishiesworld, @ninebluehearts, @angryinternetmoon, @ratty-mcfatty, @pumkiinpasties, @dark-as-love, @im-lame-irl, @bobbykennedyfan, @queendelrey, @kaiabanslajabaj

#elvis x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #yandere x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere elvis

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 7 months

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Tough It Out

it makes me so irrationaly angry that Grey's primary offensive weapon is a FUCKING SAI. AGAINST GUNS AND SHIT????

ao3

Prompt: "They don't care about you"

Fandom: Mech-X4

Characters: Spyder, Grey

Summary: Spyder is kidnapped by Grey and Traeger. Luckily, he's got the life experience to tough it out... ish.

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, torture, emotional manipulation, manipulation, referenced abuse and starvation

1448 words

Spyder’s head snapped to the side, reeling in pain from the aggression of the slap. It hurt, sure, but he’d had worse. He looked back up, grinning smugly at his captor. “That all you got?”

Grey glared at him, hitting him again. And again.

He wheezed, but kept up his smile, even as his nose began to dribble blood. He’d had worse.

“You seem frustrated,” he said, peppy as ever, “boss treating you badly?”

“Insufferable brat,” she grumbled below her breath, just loud enough for Spyder to hear. Well, that was pretty rude. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” she said, snatching up a roll of duct tape off a nearby table. He wondered if it was the same roll that had been confiscated off his person when he’d first been captured. He never did leave home without duct tape, after all.

He was just about to voice his question, genuinely curious, but of course, he wasn’t granted the chance. Grey ripped of a strip, threw the roll back on the table, and reapproached him with that same level of fury.

He was just about to voice his question, genuinely curious (and so he could save his helpful friend when he got out of here), but he didn’t get the chance. Grey ripped off a strip, threw the roll back on the table, and reproached with that same level of fury.

His squirming to avoid it was only half-hearted as she pressed it firmly over his mouth. Why waste the energy?

“We’ll see if you’re more willing after the rest of us eat. Hope you don’t get too hungry, brat.”

He hummed a positive acknowledgement, just to irk her. Grey huffed out a frustrated groan, but turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her.

Trying to starve him, huh? Now that was child’s play. He often went to bed with a deep pit in his stomach, nothing to do but sleep away the hunger. Sometimes he would give in and dig out a long-expired can of spaghetti-o’s or beef ravioli, though… that would bring its own set of problems. There was a reason it was only his most desperate measure.

The point was: he’d had far, far worse than a skipped dinner.

It was like Grey had never even met his parents! Though, considering how sloppy of a principal she’d been, he was fairly certain she hadn’t met most of the students’ parents. Though she had gone through all that recon when she was stalking Ryan… hmm.

Whatever. He could do this literally all day (not that he had much choice, tied up as he was). With nothing better to do, he started humming to himself, mentally reciting the lyrics to every Ariana Grande song he knew.

An hour or two later (maybe more, maybe less. He really had no way to tell), Grey returned, looking no less pissy than she had when she’d left.

In one fluid movement, she ripped the tape off his face (ow).

“Where did they take him?” she demanded.

“Sorry, who were we talking about again?”

She let out a frustrated yell, dragging the chair he was bound to closer, thrusting her pointy weapon thing right against his chest.

Spyder laughed. He’d had enough glass bottles thrown at him, enough shards sunken into his skin, that the threat hardly even registered in his mind. “Oh, please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We both know you won’t kill me until my friends show up to save me.”

The sharp tip pressed harder against his skin, nearly enough to draw blood. He really hoped she didn’t rip a hole in his shirt. This was one of the very few he had that wasn’t already ratty.

“Are you sure?” she asked with a smirk.

He shrugged, using the opportunity to nudge the sharp point away. “Eh, I know you want to, but I also know your boss needs me as a hostage, so.”

“I meant,” she said, grinning with teeth that kind of looked like the wolf about to eat a grandmother, “about your so-called “friends” wasting their time to come and save you.”

“Wait, sorry, what?”

She lowered her weapon, like they were about to have a casual conversation between friends. But he’d watched enough documentaries on the animal kingdom to recognize an incoming attack.

“I mean, the robot certainly seems to be functioning just fine without you,” she shrugged, “and it’s kind of obvious that they only like you out of pity.”

He’d only been here for like, a few hours, max, right? At most, they’d only needed to fight one monster in that time, because Traeger was a bitch. But without their weapons specialist… how exactly had they managed a victory? Had they managed a victory?

…Had they replaced him, and put Veracity on weapons? Was she better than him at it?

He flung that thought to the other corner of his mind palace. He was getting distracted and losing focus (not that it was unusual for him). But he couldn’t afford to get anxious right now! “Sure,” he bluffed, as if he knew exactly what was going on with his team, “maybe they’re functioning, but that doesn’t mean anything about them not needing me.” He hoped. “And Ryan, Harris, and I are like, best friends, so fuck off.”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded sarcastically, “because trios are notorious for working out. Which of you usually walked behind the others in the school hallways, again?”

Pfft, that didn’t mean a thing! That just meant that hallways were too crowded, and Spyder just happened to fall to the back… a majority of the time. “Yeah, well. If you don’t think they’ll save me, what’s the point in taking me?”

She pulled her weapon back, studying it in her hand. “Honestly? Traeger thinks they’ll come for you. But I was your principal, remember. I’ve seen the way they interact with you. After you rot here long enough for my boss to get bored… well, I think I’ll enjoy finally shutting you up for good.”

He may have flinched slightly, when she said that. The death threat (or promise, his mind supplied), while far from the first aimed his way, settled at the bottom of his stomach like a rock.

But she wouldn’t get to kill him. Because the others would come for him. What did she know, anyway? Nothing, that was what. She knew even less than Spyder did, and that was saying so much.

At least. That’s what one of the others would say. Spyder liked to think he was smart in some areas — but, you know… he preferred not to bring it up, if he could help it. Because if he showed that he could learn things, they would just be… disappointed in him. For not applying himself harder in the actual important areas. If he could immerse himself in interior design and general architecture styles, why couldn’t he do the same with school?

If he brought it up, they wouldn’t just think he was dumb. They would realize exactly how deeply, hopelessly useless he really was. He much preferred just dumb. At least he could play into that, make it something that could be endearing on a good day.

“Are you gonna torture me for fun or what, lady?” He snapped.

Grey smiled, twirling her weapon in her hand. “I would. But I have more important things to attend to. In the meantime…” she sheathed the blade, then snatched up his roll of duct tape, tearing off a strip. Again. “We don’t need you annoying the neighbors.”

“Bullshit, you don’t have any neighbors out her—” he was forced into silence as she gripped his face hard, forcing the duct tape over his mouth. This time, he did struggle. It made approximately zero difference.

Harris would probably know exactly what percentage of a difference it did make. Probably zero point nine nine nine or something like that. And then he’d judge him for being too stupid to understand what that meant.

The door locked shut with a click as Grey left, and a moment later, the singular lightbulb illuminating his small prison went out, leaving him in absolute darkness.

Great. Great. This was just awesome.

He may have been slick enough to get out of the poorly tied ropes that the butcher had restrained him with in the woods, but this was a whole new ballgame. No matter how he squirmed, he couldn’t get loose.

The important thing was not to panic. There was no reason at all to panic! His friends were coming for him (probably).

He just had to be patient. Which of course, he was… famously bad at.

Fuck.

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i-am-binket · 2 years

Text

I started watching the sandman here are my notes

Sandman watch notes

Ep 1 sleep of the just

I'm sorry Neil gaiman but what the fuck. x5

Omfg when will people learn not to revive the fucking dead DDDDD

I want to see this man's face when he realizes death is a black woman

BRO THIS MANS VOICE-

Eyo this dude's cloak- DON'T TOUCH HIS SHIT

Is this man naked? Yes. He is.

Bro this dude IS A FUCKING SKELETON

what is this man's accent?

At least give this man some clothes, jesus

The look on this man's face- no. Alex, he is not alright in there.

Stan Jessamy

I WAS JUST ABOUT TO TYPE IF "THIS BIRD DIES I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD" AND THEN SHE WAS LITERALLY SHOT WHAT THE FUCKKKK JESSAMYYYYYYYYYYY

Kill his ass kill his ass kill his ass-

RUN BITCH RUN

Gayy?? Gayyy!!

Of course she named her child Johnny

DON'T SHOW YOUR BOYFRIEND THE MAN YOU HAVE TRAPPED IN YOUR BASEMENT

Well, you know, at least we have gays in the 1920s

This man is a fucking cryptid

*GASP* THERES A CAT

I wonder if his lips just look like that, or if he makes them look like that

I also wonder if that's his natural voice

Stan lucienne

There's a character called Matthew the raven and I am excited

Ep 2

Oof

Corinthias kinda a vibe tho- I mean, he kills people, but he's kind of a vibe

OH MY GOD PATTON OSWALT IS THE RAVEN

This man is a wet rag

They be Killin a Lotta animals on this show

Stan lucienne

Fuck you, I'm crying- GREGORYYYYYYY

bro, I'm so confused, what is canon in this universe? Jesus? Greek mythology? ???

Even the edge lord is unsettled by the woman deep throating a snake

CLARAAAAA

Girl boss Ethel

OH, EW THERE ARE TEETH IN HIS EYES WHAT THE FUCK

CORINTHIAS IS NO LONGER A VIBE FUCK CORINTHIAS

oh shit girl boss Ethel

GIRVINGGGGG

I think you're projecting a bit. Able

Ep 3

CLARAAAAAAAA

"Can't keep God waiting I love this woman

Oooohh this show likes its body horror

Girl boss girl boss girl boss

He's honest

MATTHEWWWWW

SHES GAYYYYYYYY

Bro this show is not afraid of body horror, they go all out

Matthew my beloved

Man's really just trauma dumping out here

Ep 4

Bro what the fuck is happening, this is like an ad-libbing dick measuring contest

Bro you can't die its episode 4

This is a Matthew Stan account

Bro why you hate him so much he's just a dude

"I've met satan. She's a woman."

Ep 5

"I'm mark." "And I'm gay, so."

Bro this guy is sus as fuck

Ooh he startin shit

You're gonna cheat on your partner while he's in the house?

Man's is just eating a tub of ice cream while 3 different pairs of people are fucking in the background

Ep 6

There is not a briancell between these two

Cant imagine death being a people person

I'm 20 minutes in and I feel like I've been here for over an hour

Dream bein a Lil sus

CLARAAAAAA

Ep 7

"She is a woman" ah, yes, now you can seduce him

Why do people have sex in other people's beds?

Matthew my beloved

#the sandman #netflix

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youllallriseintheink · 2 years

Text

Joey Drew Switcharoo, chapter 1

Hey, everyone. I decided to make a little story (somewhat loosely) based on the “Joey Drew Switcharoo” AU, which the Sammy server came up with a while ago. It’s using my own versions of the characters. I hope you guys enjoy it.

---

Susie’s cage spun as it hung from the ceiling, and the cold, basement air was almost painful on her skin. At very least, she’d pushed Alice down for now. She wondered how long she would be there, in this dark, empty, awful place.

The door swung open, and Susie was surprised to see not Joey, but Sammy and Allison coming through it.

“Hey. We’re going to get you down,” Sammy explained, “It’s just for the evening. We’ll have to put you back before he notices you’re gone. But Allison has set up a little... magical venting session for employees who hate Joey Drew.”

Allison caught up with him and leaned on his shoulder. “We think it might change his mind about treating everyone so poorly. Maybe he’d even release you!”

“Don’t get your hopes up for that. But let’s get you down. We’ll do our best.”

The two lowered Susie’s cage down and unlocked it, and then the three took the bus to Allison’s house. There was food and drink already laid out, along with a cauldron and what looked like piles of carefully measured dried plants and tubes of liquid. Not too much later, Wally Franks, Grant Cohen, and a teenager Susie had never met showed up. Susie tried to ignore the latter two’s stares and hoped that Wally wouldn’t ask why she was out. Thankfully, he didn’t.

There was a loud bang as Allison dropped a cauldron on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Glad everyone could make it! So, here’s what’s going to happen. Sammy and I have made up a spell that will let us construct a little fantasy for Joey lasting an hour for each of us. Sammy and I were thinking of sticking to a ‘walk a mile in your worker’s shoes’ theme, but if you just want to straight-up torture him, your choice-"

“No,” Sammy cut in. “Stick to teaching Joey what an awful person he is. We want him to change and we need to take this seriously. He’s hurting people.”

“Okay,” Allison added, “But just so you know, there’s no lasting consequences and no way for Joey to prove this actually happened. Also, we’ll all get to watch everything from the cauldron. If you’re feeling skeptical, just you all wait a moment. Sammy?”

Sammy brought over the tray of strange-looking liquids and dried plants, which he added to the cauldron as Allison stirred. At the end of it, Sammy drew a pentagram around the cauldron, which began to produce rising yellow embers.

“Now. Who’s our biggest skeptic here?” Allison asked, “You,” she grabbed Grant’s hand and plunged it into the cauldron.

---

Joey woke up face-down on a desk, feeling like he’d been hit with a truck. When he opened his eyes, he found that he was in Grant’s office.

Did I doze off here? Where’s Grant?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was Sammy Lawrence, only... taller... it seemed. Sammy stomped past Joey and took a seat across from him, staring him in the eyes with fury and disbelief.

“What the Hell are you doing with the studio’s finances? Do have any idea how expensive instruments are, or how empty media feels without compelling music? Of course you don’t. Why the Hell did you slash our budget again?”

Joey just sat there, stunned. “I’m not responsible for that!” he finally spat out.

“I know that the boss overspends. He makes all of our jobs difficult. Find a better excuse. Just give me my fucking paycheck.”

Thoroughly confused, Joey froze for a second before asking, “who do you think I am?”

Sammy gave him a weird look before getting up and opening the desk drawer. He shuffled through some checks until he found the one with his name on it. “There. I’m only taking mine, see? If any of the others go missing, get me arrested for all I care.” With that, Sammy left.

“What the Hell is going on?” Joey wondered aloud. And then he left the office and saw his name on the door.

Oh. Oh my.

Either this was a dream, or Grant had gotten his hands on magic. The latter was a laughable idea. And Joey was a vibrant dreamer, this was far from the zaniest dream he’d ever had. This had to be a dream, then.

As time went on, Joey began to doubt that little hypothesis. The dream sequence was just so unimaginative, repetitive, and just not that torturous: a few people snapping at him over late pay checks and a meeting with the boss. It was on brand for Grant’s lack of creativity, and Joey could quite literally come up with better in his sleep.

And then there was the meeting itself. Joey Drew, perhaps Grant in his body, had quoted their previous meetings word-for-word. He’d gotten into Joey’s personal space the same way Joey sometimes did to intimidate him. He’d even called him “Drew,” the same way Joey often called Grant “Cohen.” It might not have been as intimidating had it not been evidence that this was real, and that Grant Cohen had somehow gotten his hands on magic and was using it on him.

---

Joey woke up, this time in an iron cage, feeling as cold as if he’d been left outside on a winter’s night. This time, the physical change to his body was incredibly obvious. His arms were thin and black. Plastic-like strands of hair fell over his shoulders. It was obvious what this was now: he was Alice Angel, once known as Susie Campbell.

His torture was simple. He had to stay there an hour and freeze in a body that provided no warmth, cramped in an oversized bird cage. He could hear ink creatures howling around him. He could feel a separate consciousness controlling his body.

It hurt. But it also gave Joey time to think. This spell, colloquially named “mile-in-my-shoes” for its most obvious use, only allowed each person involved to control the narrative for a single hour. The first hour had been Grant- that was obvious. The second hour had to be from someone who knew about Alice’s fate. Had Alice escaped? Or was this someone who knew about her? Sammy would make sense. It would require Sammy to have more magical abilities than he’d thought, but it was still a better thought than having Susie on the loose, and unlike Susie or Grant, Sammy did at least know some magic.

---

Joey woke up again, this time in a closet from somewhere within the music room. He could see that he was in a woman’s body this time. He emerged and entered the recording hall, and from there, he could tell that something was very off.

Everyone was whispering, sending Joey the occasional glance. It occurred to Joey that he didn’t know what his job was, and since this was a fantasy, he could leave at any time. But for whatever reason, he stayed to listen to them. They were whispering something about a Alice Angel.

Sammy Lawrence- Joey noted that he was the same height as him this time around- strode towards him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Joey smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be? Just show me what we’ll be doing today and I’ll get started!”

“Wow. You’re taking the loss of your role awfully well.”

“My... what?” Other members of the music department turned towards him, making Joey feel overwhelmed.

“You didn’t know...?”

“Uh... gimme a second...”

Joey ran off the women’s bathroom. Even though he didn’t have any attachment to a role he didn’t have, the embarrassment alone had stung. He shouldn’t have put Susie through that... it was wholly unnecessary not to tell her directly.

But there was little time to think about that. Susie had to be in on this now, unless it was two people who were especially sympathetic towards her. Joey looked in the mirror to see who exactly he was, and he was faced with long brown hair, a diamond-shaped face and light grey eyes.

Allison.

It made perfect sense, of course. Allison would be just the type to bring people over for a party where everyone participated in a spell. And since she and Tom were an item, it made sense that she’d known about Susie.

A terrible thought struck Joey: Allison was in his body right now, able to access any secret of his that she could want. She could even figure out how to release his ink creatures if she got to the basement.

Joey ran out into the hall, only to trip on Allison’s heels. He threw them off and ran barefoot to his office, wincing at the splinters from the cheap wood floor. The woman in his body was leaving it, ink machine keys dangling from her fingers.

“Hey!” he yelled.

Allison didn’t even look back at him.

Joey ran over and tried to snatch the keys from Allison’s hand, but Joey pushed her against a wall.

She’s stronger than me, he realized. He’d have to rely on strategy and agility. And since this was an illusion, he didn’t have to worry about the integrity of the world or injuring their bodies.

Joey ran. He was faster in this body, he realized. There was no reason that Allison would waste time chasing after him, so he had to find a solution before Allison made her way to the basement. He found his solution in a cigarette lighter he’d found laying out on someone’s desk, which he snatched before running to the elevator, at which Allison was waiting.

The two locked eyes. “I know what you’re doing, Allison. You won’t get away with it.” Joey growled.

Allison made her best confused face. Joey wasn’t sure whether it looked strange because she was faking it poorly or if it was just strange looking at someone else wearing his own face. “This is just a dream, Joey. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Joey tensed up, almost ready to strike her.

A ding indicated that the elevator had arrived, and Joey rushed to light it on fire, feeling Allison pull him back only after he’d tossed the lit lighter into a pile of ink within the elevator, setting it ablaze. He looked back to Allison with a childlike, triumphant smile.

Allison was unphased and started for the stairs. Joey ran ahead of her, unsure what his plan was. What followed was several minutes of the two wrestling in the stairwell, at one point tumbling down a flight of stairs, breaking bones, and continuing to fight.

---

“Allison!” Sammy snapped. “This was supposed to be about making Joey walk a mile in our shoes. Now he’s going to make the whole thing about protecting his secrets!”

Allison nodded and lowered her eyes. “Yeah. I got carried away. But to be fair, I don’t think any of us has taught him anything yet. He’s just been focused on trying to figure out what’s been going on.”

“Well, I guess it’s up to the last three to teach him a lesson. Who’s left?” Sammy eyed the room and realized that it was just Wally, a timid-looking teenager whose name he didn’t remember, and himself. He sighed heavily- they weren’t exactly a dream team. “Alright. Let’s make a game plan and hope this goes right.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #allison pendle #susie campbell #grant cohen #malice #sammy lawrence #AUs #my fanfiction

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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alwritey-aphrodite · 2 years

Text

Puzzle Pieces

Chapter 3 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: let me know if anyone wants to be added/removed from the tags! This is the slowest of slow burns, so get ready

The next three days are chaotic, to say the least. You spent practically all day driving to and from the galleries spread throughout the city, meeting with middle aged women in colorful scarves and black slacks who describe all of the reasons why your paintings aren’t quite what they’re looking for.

You don’t let that stop you though. Two of the gallery curators had told you to come back in a few months, when they had space available and you had more paintings to show. Your expectations were low, so to be offered that much seemed like a dream come true.

Between carting your paintings all over the city, you and Poe continue to text. You’re talking so often that it seems odd when a few hours go by without a response. It’s astonishing to you how quickly he’s become such a constant in your life, with the short time you’ve known each other and the even shorter time you’ve spoken in person.

But when you receive your schedule for the coffee shop for the next two weeks, you and Poe decide on a few days for you to come in and get started on the painting, which he and Finn decided would be a mural painted directly on one of the empty walls of the Resistance.

Maz, your boss and the owner of the coffee shop, promised you as many days off as you needed. She said you worked too hard, and the newer employees needed to work harder.

She looked the part of the kind, older lady, and she really was, for the most part, but you’d also be terrified of her if you ever got on her bad side. But, she’d always been supportive of your art career, even commissioning you to paint pieces for the shop, even though you said you’d give them to her for free.

So, the deal was that she’d give you as much time off as you needed as long as you sent her pictures of your progress. Anyone else would use that to their advantage, but you preferred to work on your pieces whenever you had days off, or on the afternoons when you worked the morning shifts.

With the two week schedule published, you set up times to work on the mural for the Resistance, working around both your schedule and Finn and Poe’s schedule.

Your first day working on the mural, you were even more nervous than the first time you’d met Finn and Poe, because now it wasn’t you they were going to be judging, it was your art. You knew this worrying was useless, because you knew that Finn or Poe would never say anything bad about anything you painted for them, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When you got to the Resistance on your first day of painting, Finn was the one who greeted you at the door after you’d sent a text to both him and Poe, alerting them of your arrival.

“Do you want to see any of my ideas?” You asked after he had shown you the wall space.

“Absolutely not,” he replied with a grin, “Surprise us, go nuts.”

You didn’t accomplish very much on that first day. You could blame it on the fact that you needed to measure the space and start to sketch it out, but really you and Finn just kept talking.

You already knew he was someone you wanted to be friends with after game night, but the longer you talked, the more you were declaring him your best friend. Not only is he one of the kindest people you’ve ever met, he’s also funny and smart as hell.

He told you stories about Rey, Rose, and Poe, but you took note of how he tried not to talk about himself too much, the only times being when he was in a story with another person.

He told you the story of how he and Poe had come to own the Resistance, and about Leia, who owned and managed the bar before them. According to him, she was the most badass person he’s ever met, and that the two of you would get on like a house on fire.

You end up staying at the Resistance for far longer than you planned, too wrapped up in all of Finn’s stories to leave. With a glance at your watch, you spit out a curse and start to hastily pack your things.

“Next time, you can just tell me to leave.” You say as you turn to face Finn, grinning. He just laughs, and bids you goodbye as you hustle out the door.

“See you later!” You shout, door slamming shut behind you.

You’re proud of how much progress you made, even with all of the conversations you had with Finn. Still, you’re a little disappointed that you didn’t get a chance to see Poe. Even though you’ve been texting each other every day, you haven’t seen him in person since game night.

It seems odd to say you miss him, considering how often you text and the short amount of time you’d known each other, but that’s the best way to describe it. You’re already not sure what you’d do without him, when he’s been so supportive and kind and funny.

When you return to Maz’s the day after you started your mural at the Resistance, the familiarity of the routine was an instant relief. The smell of coffee and the clamor of people talking and machines whirling relaxed you, welcoming you back to the place you’d long considered a second home.

It might be strange, to consider the place you work a second home, or maybe a bit workaholic and unhealthy, but you always felt safe there. Maz’s was one of the only places you felt complete, and was one of the first places outside of school that you started to find yourself.

So, returning to your early morning routine after an unusually long break away was a comfort to you. You slipped right back into your work like it was second nature, grinning at the regulars who mentioned they had missed seeing you.

It was a fairly slow morning, giving you and Rose plenty of time to chat. While you text each other regularly, you had missed your face to face conversations the two of you had during the downtime in these early morning shifts.

It’s peaceful, the quiet interrupted only by your laugh as Rose tells a story or her lightly hitting your shoulder when you playfully make fun of a blunder she’d made when you’d been out.

The long awaited break doesn’t last long, the two of you pulled from your conversation when you hear the bell over the front door ring. When you see who it is, however, your grin only widens.

Poe and Rey enter the shop together, bickering over some nonsense as you and Rose turn to grin at each other. With all of your busy schedules, it’s been practically impossible to make plans to see each again, with the whole group. So, even seeing them for a few minutes in the middle of your workday seems like a gift.

You take their orders, laughing as you watch them shove a bizarre amount of cash into the tip jar on the counter as you and Rose make their drinks.

“That sketch looks amazing, by the way.” Poe tells you while Rey and Rose have their own conversation, taking his to-go cup out of your hands.

“Thanks,” you reply, grinning like an idiot, “I’ll be back in a few days to start painting.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he says as he turns to walk out the door, Rey at his heels. But, before he does, he turns around and sends you a grin that matches your own.

You’re in an instantly better mood, floating throughout the rest of your shift, thinking of Poe and that stupid grin. It was practically impossible not to get a crush on the guy, but you were determined not to.

He and Finn were two of the only people who made you feel like you belong, and you weren’t willing to risk that over a silly little crush. Truly, you’d be content to be Poe’s friend, just to be in his orbit felt like a gift.

You try, and fail, not to think about Poe for the rest of the day, but for some reason all of your thoughts go back to him. Whether you hear a joke a regular tells you and think, Poe would like that, or if you come up with a new concept for the mural, your brain leads you back to Poe Dameron.

You settle comfortably back into your routine just in time to have another day off that you’ll spend painting at the Resistance. On your walk over, you silently hope that Poe’ll be there today, just so you could see him in person. The frequency of your texts have only increased, getting to the point where it seems strange when an hour or two goes by with no message from him.

You’re almost embarrassed to admit to yourself how excited you were when you saw both Poe and Finn after letting yourself in through the unlocked back door. You shout your hellos, and then make your way over to the wall with the sketch of the mural, not wanting to disturb them from their own work too much.

The base painting goes quickly, lathering the wall in blocks of blacks, oranges, and whites, popping out against the dark navy paint of the wall. You talk and laugh with Finn and Poe, keeping your back turned to them as you work so you won’t get as distracted as you did the first time, when a majority of your time was spent trading stories with Finn.

Today, however, Finn has to run some errands, leaving you and Poe alone. Just like the first time you met, the conversation comes easy and flows naturally, interspersed with pockets of comfortable silences. During one of those silences, Poe comes up to admire your work from behind you, smiling even though you don’t see it.

“It looks awesome, honestly,” he says, causing you to pause and turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. You’ve been complimented on your work before, but he just sounded so damn sincere it made you pause.

Smiling at him, you thank him and say, “It should be done within the next two or three weeks, depending on my schedule.”

“You mean this isn’t done?” His comment makes you giggle, causing a grin to bloom across his face as you turn back to your work.

He goes quiet again, but you can still sense him standing behind you, watching as you work. It’s peaceful, the silence broken only by your breathing and the paintbrush dragging across the wall.

You’d been worried about what to say, at first, but now the silence was comforting, wrapped around you like a warm blanket. It was nice to know that Poe was still there, just existing in the space next to you.

Whenever you had tried to make friends before, you always pushed the conversations as much as you could, dreading the inevitable silences that clung and killed the conversations.

But with Poe, it was nice just being near him, being able to focus on what you both individually needed to do while still spending time together. The only other person that made you feel this comfortable so soon was Rose, the two of you could spend hours together without saying a word, and without it being awkward in any way.

When Poe broke the silence, you practically jumped out of your skin. Luckily, your brush was nowhere near the wall, otherwise it would have been a disaster.

“When are you gonna go out with Rey and Rose?” He inquires, causing you to turn to face him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“We went out to dinner a few nights ago?” You say, sounding like you were asking him for confirmation.

“No, I mean, when will come here” he specifies, watching the understanding bloom on your face.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” You respond teasingly as he chuckles.

“I thought that was clear.”

“It totally wasn’t.” You turn back to your painting, still talking with Poe, “But I guess I’ll come whenever I get invited.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t caught on to that.”

“You know, you’re kinda mean.” You laugh at that, taking your shaking hand away from the wall so you won’t smudge the paint.

“Maybe you can come in once the painting’s done? We can do a whole big thing, if you want.”

“I would hate nothing more than that, but I’ll definitely come once it’s finished as long as you promise not to make it a big deal.”

“Alright, alright, I swear I won’t… but Finn has made no such promise.”

“Poe!” Now it’s his turn to laugh, eyes creasing and shoulders shaking, absolutely adorable.

“Fine, I’ll make him promise too.”

“Thanks,” you respond, turning your focus back towards the painting.

You can sense Poe standing behind you still, and you wonder if he has anything else he wants to say, anything teasing or sincere. But, he must think better of whatever he planned on saying, because you see him moving back towards his office out of the corner of your eye, telling you, “Holler if you need me,” before walking away completely.

You don’t need anything, so you finish your base layer of paint before cleaning up and heading out, shouting your goodbye to Poe in his office.

“Text me if you need anything!” He shouts back, and you smile, because you know he can’t see you.

“I promise!”

You spend most of your walk home, and the rest of your evening, thinking about Poe and how easily he makes you laugh and how comfortable you feel with him and how lucky you are to have him as a friend.

It’s been so long since you’ve made friends, actual friends you could see yourself talking and laughing with years into the future. And now you had Finn, and especially Poe, rounding out your little group with Rey and Rose. Finally, you felt content with the little family you had found and fit into like a puzzle piece.

As you lay in your bed, mind running a mile a minute, making it practically impossible to sleep, you thought about your luck. How lucky you were to have a job you actually enjoyed, actually looked forward to when you woke up. How lucky you were to have the time and resources to pursue your passions, even if they weren’t enough to support you yet.

And, most importantly, how lucky you were to have friends that made you feel complete, that made you smile and laugh and cry, that you knew would be in it for the long haul. With that thought, you finally managed to fall asleep.

Tags: @aellynera @userpoe @dailyreverie @thedukeofcaladan @catching-up-with-kayla @poopirate @luckynachos @captainpuffyrp @tiquinntheghost

#you are in love series #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #modern!poe dameron #modern!poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #modern!star wars

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Have a nice day/night/dance battle with the peacocks! :D

Alright, since you are a) very cool and fun and b) you took the time to send such a lovely message, I’m going to give you a part of a fic series I started many moons ago and abandoned for other things

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went: Ann Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Rating: PG-13

Tags: Alcohol, shenanigans, everyone’s cutting loose, mild reluctance (but these people don’t turn down dares so y’know)

Summary: As a “team building” exercise, all of the Executives have met for a little get-together; and with alcohol and a rousing game of “truth or dare” involved, what could possibly go wrong?

“Ann,” Chisiya says, “truth or dare?”

Ann sighs. Her red-lacquered fingernails tap rhythmically against the green of a beer bottle, the glassy sound barely audible above the chatting of the half-drunk executives.

“I already told you, I’m not playing.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” Niragi snaps, grip on his rifle tightening as he downs another shot of vodka, “no skips, that’s the rule.”

“If I had to do it, you have to do it,” Keiichi offers mournfully, taking a sad sip of bourbon from a crystal-cut glass, “it’s only fair.”

Ann turns her attention towards Hatter. He’s taking a healthy swig from—ew, is that a bottle of peppermint schnapps? She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive arch.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tells him for the fourth time in the last hour, “and you should feel bad for making us do this.”

“Ann. Sweet, darling,” Hatter takes note of her unimpressed grimace, “angry Ann. This is all an exercise in trust. A way for all of us executives to bond.”

“And because he loves the drama,” Aguni adds.

“I really do,” Hatter says wistfully, “So, come on. One round and then you can go back to summoning demons or whatever you do in your little basement crypt.”

Ann sighs. Everyone is looking at her with expectant eyes. She finishes the rest of her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table.

“Fine,” she says, “One round, and then I’m leaving.”

“The ice queen giveth in,” Chisiya says, the corners of his mouth turning up onto a mischievous grin, “So, pick your poison. Truth...or dare?”

“Dare,” Ann says coolly, and the room erupts. Even Last Boss, who had been lurking in the corner until now, gasps. In a rare show of camaraderie, Niragi slaps Chisiya on the back and tells him to ‘give that bitch a good one.’

Imbeciles. All of them.

“Everyone gather ‘round the table,” Chisiya purrs—yes, purrs—as he looks her with a twinkle in his eye, “because this particular date involves each and every one of you.”

“Even me?” asks Last Boss.

“But of course,” Chisiya says, “we need everyone if we’re going to play...spin the bottle.”

Ann feels the blood drain from her face. Oh, this little blond twerp is despicable. He is evil and terrible and—

“No re-spins. No backing out. The kiss must last a minimum of five seconds, but it can go longer if you feel so inclined.”

“I won’t,” Ann answers curtly. There is not a person in this room she could ever want to kiss. (Except for Mira, but. Well. That’s a thought for another day.)

“I don’t know,” Niragi says with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, the silver piercing winking at her in a supposedly seductive manner, “once you get a taste of a real man, you might find yourself hooked.”

“Perhaps Niragi wouldn’t be so bad,” Mira muses with a serene smile, “his oral fixation is off-putting on the best of days, but it might translate well to a more intimate experience. That is, until he starts talking again. Then it’ll be terrible.”

Niragi’s face twists into a sharp scowl as he tries to sputter a comeback; drunkenness and embarrassment have apparently robbed him of his mental faculties, so he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ann says with a huff.

She places her empty beer bottle, label-side down, on the long wooden table. For the first time this evening, everyone is silent. Honestly, it’s kind of nice—it would be better if she didn’t have to end up kissing one of them, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know,” Ann says, “there is a possibility it could land on me. Does that mean I don’t have to kiss anyone?”

“That means you get to choose,” Chisiya says, “which...well, that will most certainly add some spice to the night, wouldn’t it?”

“Very evil,” Aguni concludes with a nod, “I like it.”

Hm. Well, it was worth a shot.

With one final, annoyed sigh, Ann places her hand on the bottle and gives it a powerful spin. Maybe it’ll spin right off the table and shatter on the floor. She wouldn’t have to do anything weird, and then she could just go back to her room and take a long bath. Alone. The way the universe intended.

It’s impossible not to watch the bottle spin, light refracting off the glass and casting flickering spots of light around the room. It’s just a kiss. She’s kissed people before. Many people. At least two.

Friends kiss each other all the time. Not her friends, but other people and their friends. And these people aren’t really ‘friends,’ but they’re...acquaintances. Colleagues. Does that make it better or worse?

It’s slowing down now. With each passing second, her fate is being decided by the neck of the bottle. Mira, Last Boss, Keiichi—oh, God, please don’t let it be Keiichi, they have a meeting in the morning, that would be so awkward...

But, luckily, the bottle does not land on Keiichi. It does not land on Niragi, nor does it land on Chisiya. Last Boss has also been spared, as have Aguni and Mira. That leaves only one candidate...

“Oh, Ann,” Hatter says, clapping his hands together and looking entirely too pleased with this very strange turn of events, “I always knew there was something between us!”

The thing he’s talking about is tolerance—she tolerates him because it is both sensible and beneficial to be on his good side. He also, surprisingly enough, defers to her expertise on certain matters, which is more than can be said for her previous employers. They are friendly, certainly, but most certainly not friends.

And...lovers?

Out of the question.

But Fate (and a smug little blonde) have decided that they share a moment of passion. Could she have spun worse? Yes. Could she have spun better? Absolutely. 100%. Without a doubt.

But Ann is a woman of integrity. When she commits, she commits. And so, as she walks to the other side of the table, she keeps her spine straight and her head held high. She refuses to let these people see her falter.

“In addition to the parameters already given, I’d like to establish some rules of my own,” she says coolly, barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes when he takes another gulp of alcohol. Yep, that’s definitely peppermint schnapps he has—she can tell by the stench of it, the way it’s sharpness burns at her eyes.

She’s always hated peppermint schnapps.

“Fine, fine,” Hatter says with a wave of his hand, “as long as you promise not to fall completely in love with me in the process.”

That gets a laugh from everyone—and even Ann considers cracking a smile at the thought of someone like her ever feeling something for someone like him.

“No tongue. No teeth. And,” Ann tell him firmly, “if you want to leave this room with your balls intact, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The group ooh’s at that. Ann doesn’t look at them. She keeps her gaze focused on the man in front of her, watching him intently for any signs of weakness.

All she gets is a smirk.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Ann,” he replies, “however, you’re more than welcome to put your hands anywhere on my person.”

He leans in slightly, almost as if he’s letting her in on a secret.

“I could even give you a few suggestions, if you like.”

What a perfectly hideous thing for him to say. It doesn’t help that he’s fluttering his eyelashes at her like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character.

It’s annoying.

He’s annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, Ann grabs Takeru by the silk of his obnoxious robe and crashes her mouth against his-- because she’ll be damned if he’s the one kissing her.

Five...

The group gasps-- Takeru included, the noise muffled by the seal of their lips as she kisses him fully and firmly.

Four...

And it’s...not as gross as it could be, but it’s still a very odd experience. His lips are soft enough, and his beard-moustache-whatever-the-fuck is scratchy in a way that is. Well, it’s interesting. Not good, but...interesting.

Three...

“This is fucking weird,” Niragi shouts, sounding very disgusted.

Two...

“It’s like watching my parents,” Last Boss adds, “when they were still trying to convince my sister and I they were still in love and weren’t going to get a divorce.”

One...

And done.

“Okay,” Ann says flatly as she pulls away and swallows a grimace at the sight of her favorite shade of lipstick on Takeru’s lips (and is actually a very nice compliment to his skin tone, frustratingly enough) “Can I go now.”

For good measure, she releases his robe with a disdainful flick of her fingers and subtly brushes her hands off on her shorts. It’s not enough to get the scent of peppermint schnapps and awkwardness off of her skin, but it can’t hurt.

“A deal’s a deal,” Chisiya concedes, his eternally mischievous smirk stretched across his cheeks, “And I must say, I didn’t expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain so...enthusiastically.”

“That’s because nobody can resist me,” Takeru gloats, bottle of alcohol back in his grip as if it had never truly left, “It’s not her fault I’m so delectable--”

“Detestable,” Ann corrects under her breath.

“--And, even though you’ll try to deny it,” Takeru continues, disregarding her comment, “both of us know that there’s a part of you that liked kissing me.”

“I liked the part when she stopped,” Mira chirps cheerfully, “In fact, I think we all did!”

“You have no idea,” Aguni murmurs solemnly into his drink, his eyes darting towards Takeru with an unimpressed look. That’s...hm, there’s clearly some kind of story there, although Ann isn’t sure she wants to know about it.

Everyone begins talking amongst themselves once again-- Niragi has offered to spin the bottle next, and there’s a small argument breaking out over whether or not the group should continue with their original game of ‘truth or dare’ or pivot to this new one.

And, Ann?

Ann doesn’t stick around to find out.

#writings and such #alice in borderland #alice in borderland netflix #hatter/ann #what a horrifically cursed tag #NOBODY IS SAFE y'all better watch out #ann rizuna #danma takeru #last boss #niragi suguru #takatora samura #aguni morizono #mira kano #chisiya shuntaro #keiichi kuzuryu #fun fact: this takes place before arisu shows up so that's why he's not here

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ninja-scenarios · 3 years

Note

Omg I'm so excited for this!!!

Is it okay to request some HCs for Dazai, Mori and Fyodor with a fem!S/O who's a Vet and she's very sweet and soft and has a Healing ability, but she is prone to overworking to exhaustion and has a hard time refusing people?

I hope it's not too specific, but if it is, you can tweak it in any way you like so that you'll enjoy it 🤗💖

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, have an amazing day!!

🌸🌸🌸🌟🌟🌟

Ahhh I love BSD so much!!! Thank you anon 💕

Dazai, Fyodor, Mori with a hard-working S/O

(The scenario with Dazai is with a female s/o, Mori and Fyodor are with a gender neutral s/o)

Dazai 💘

Your back hurt when you straightened out in your chair. The joint in your shoulder popped for good measure and left you grumbling under your breath. Not the best way to start home time.

However, your mood lifted like thick heavy theatre curtains the second your keys unlocked the entrance to your shared home.

„Welcome home, darling~!“

The lovely scent of soup filled your nose, ridding you of the sour afterthought of your headache as soon as you laid your eyes on your lover.

„How was your day?“

Dazai stood at the stove, wearing one of your aprons. However the man didn't give you any time to respond, because the second you opened your mouth he shushed you and made sure you sat down at the table.

„You must be tired, dear. But don't fret, dinner's ready!“

The steaming hot bowl of soup was placed in front of you with Dazai kissing the top of your head and then taking a seat.

You wanted to thank him and ask about his day, you really wanted to. But the moment your brain noticed the food, it completely short circuted. It took all of you not to wolf down the spicy soup as you dug in, remembering that it had been eight hours since your last meal which had consisted of a muesli bar.

With all the work at the vet you tended to overwork yourself and completely forget about your own needs.

Your stomach rumbled in approval as the last drop of soup vanished into your hungry mouth, leaving the bottom of the bowl completely blank.

„Baby, thank you so much for cooking! I-"

Dazai jumped up before you could finish.

„Ahh! Darling, I almost forgot! There's desert, of course.“

Yet before he could leave to spoil you any further, you grabbed his arm with lightning-fast reflexes. You were a doctor after all, who had her own clinic. What a boss ass bitch. You just couldn't control yourself around food.

„You stay here!“ You exclaimed, before burying yourself in his arms. His comforting scent filled your nose, his hands coming to rest on your waist naturally. „I don't need desert as much as I need you.“

If Dazai had glanced at his darling lovingly before, now his warm brown eyes were lighting up even brighter with undying love.

„Really? You mean it? Oh, darling…“ Was he blushing? „Why so romantic all of a sudden~?“

„Desert can wait. What I need now is you and a hot shower.“

Dazai chuckled when you pulled him down into a kiss. His big comforting hands found your shoulders, gliding them down to your butt to lift you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist while you felt him navigating to your bathroom through your shared kisses.

Naturally, your skilled fingers found his bandages which they loosened hastily.

„So do you want me before, after or during your shower, doll?“

Fyodor ⚠️

`Finally home!‘

It had been a long day at the clinic. You were tired.

Fyodor had given you a key to his apartment after 7 months of being a couple. Even though it had taken time for him to open up, you felt the excitement melt a little bit of your exhaustion as you used it for the first time to open the door.

After the first step you suddenly halted. You had to alert him in some way that you'd entered the appartment lest he had a shock at your sudden appearance. But you didn’t want to say ‚I'm home' which would surely sound too clingy for the first time you used the key.

So you settled for awkwardly calling his name.

„…Fyodor? Eh… Are you there?“

The more suprised you were when you heard him call back from the living room.

„Y/n, are you home already?“

Home. Ignoring the sudden swarm of butterflies warming your belly from the inside, you stepped into the living room for a familiar image.

Fyodor hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, a warm blanket wrapped around him while he oversaw something on an array of computer screens.

You came to give him a peck on his temple.

„Are you still working?“

„Don't bother yourself with it, doll.“ He stretched his hand to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear. His nimble fingers lingered on your neck and you had a hard time turning away from his eyes.

„I see you’re tired. Always so hard-working, aren't you? Why don't you sit with me?“ He unwrapped one side of the blanket, indicating for you to join him.

Heart still beating fast from his kind gesture you took a seat on his lap, resting comfortably against his wonderfully warm body. He wrapped the blanket around the both of you, going back to his work.

For a second you were reminded of the reason he sat here with a blanket and warm clothes, of his weak anemic body. Yet you assured yourself that Fyodor was capable to take care. Still, you worried.

Yet when your head met his neck, you noticed how tired you really were. It had been a long night at work and you wanted nothing more than to rest.

You fell asleep to Fyodor petting your head, feeling safe and sound. Feeling like home.

Mori 💉

For any new recruit to the port Mafia, it came as a shock when you let yourself into the building like you owned the place and proceeded to self-assuredly navigate through the hallways as if you were taking a stroll, to plop down right on top of the boss' very own bed.

However, you couldn't care less about the newbies who had to pick up their jaws from the floor.

It was only natural for you, being the boss' lover.

Today you were dog tired, having worked over time because one of your employees had called in sick and leaving you with a ton of work.

It should have been about an hour from when you'd fallen into bed and immediately went to sleep comforted by his familiar scent, when Mori finally showed up.

The oh so mighty head of the port mafia was astonished upon noticing you, his violet eyes widening slightly, before proceeding to walk on tip toes and making as little noise as possible until he arrived at your bed side.

Just when he was about to lean down to place a kiss on your head, you opened your eyes with a cheeky grin.

„Ahh why are you doing this to me? If you were awake why didn't you say so?“

Nothing was funnier than reminding your powerful lover that he was a mere slave to your smile.

„Because you're always so fun to tease.“

Mori furrowed his brows yet you pulled him down by his collar to press a few loving kisses to his lips. His eyes changed immediately, fading with a love-drunken glow, as well as his cheeks. His stubble scratched just the slightest bit but you were used to it by now.

He took a seat on the side of the bed, a warm smile grazing his lips when you proceeded to climb into his lap.

„I take it you worked over time again?“

You merely hummed, toying with the top button of his dress shirt before unbuttoning it.

„You know, my love, I could always send someone else to help you out. If it's money you need-"

„Thanks, but no. I can take care of my own matters. I'm not afraid to put in the work.“

The shirt was stripped away, reveiling the sight to your lover's chest.

„I know, darling, I know. I just don't want you to overwork yourself all the time.“

You locked eyes. Your finger found his pulse against the side of his neck. It was warm, beating in a comforting rythm.

„You can help me otherwise.“

Mori raised his eyebrow in question. You didn't put him on the rack for long.

„Kiss me.“

He wasted no time, cradling the back of your head as he captured your lips in a kiss. You let your fingers continue to wander over his skin while he grunted softly.

Mori made sure you stayed in his lap when he turned you around, hovering over your form while his lips kept attacking yours more and more feverishly as the moments went by.

You moaned softly, tightening the grip of your thighs.

„I love you"

„I love you too, darling"

#bsd imagines #dazai x reader #dazai bsd #mori x reader #fyodor x reader #mori bsd #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai imagine #fyodor imagine

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

Text

An Interesting Little Relationship

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge.

The "rules" are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. Except I broke a few rules on this one... so I used I think six sprints total (lost count a bit 😅) and in between sprints I let myself keep writing until I got stuck.

This time around I used the prompt: "As if life hasn’t been hard enough lately…you just met your soulmate, and they’re not even human. (Supernatural/monster AU)"

And @airi-p4 wrote this minific based on a Julie and the Phantoms AU and it all just kinda clicked in my head. Although fair warning for those of you who know the show, I did take away the ability to handle the instruments to play more with the "can't touch real things"... thing.

Read on Ao3

The question had been on Marinette’s mind ever since she first met Luka. Which wasn’t too out of the ordinary. For those with visible marks, it was often the first thing people noticed. Marks stood out like wedding bands—jet black for those still waiting, brilliant color for those who’d already found their soulmate, a permanent reminder of the first touch.

Luka had three black marks like smudges across the backs of his fingers, as if he were destined to brush his knuckles against some stranger’s at some point in his life and discover what everyone hoped to.

The problem was, Luka’s life was already over.

He and the band had first shimmered into existence when she found their demo buried along with the rest of their things in the attic and popped it into the dormant CD player. As she’d listened, nodding her head along to the punk rock beat and appreciating the skill of the guitarist, suddenly there they were, three ghosts standing right in front of her.

She’d screamed. They’d screamed. Eventually everyone calmed down enough for Luka to explain that her attic was their old studio and introduce his sister, Juleka, and their drummer, Ivan. And as he gestured to himself, her eyes went straight to those three black marks that she’d been watching ever since.

She rubbed at her own mark—three black streaks on the side of her neck, just below her ear—as they worked on writing a new song together. Luka was brainstorming aloud, pacing back and forth soundlessly, while she handled the pen.

Touch was tricky for him. If he focused sometimes, he could pick up small things. He’d managed to grab a pick once and strum it across his guitar in its stand and he’d been giddy about it for days afterward. Sometimes it made her think that maybe it wasn’t all that crazy that her marks seemed to match with his. Maybe it was possible…

“Hey, you okay, boss?” Luka asked, breaking her out of her thoughts as he took a seat next to her on the old couch and laid his arm casually along the back of her seat. She could almost imagine his weight settling into the spot, although of course he himself was weightless. She frowned at the unburdened upholstery under his thighs as if it had personally offended her.

“Isn’t it weird?”

“Isn’t what weird?”

“You can sit there, and you can pick things up sometimes and you don’t go through the floor or anything, but you can’t touch… other things.”

As if to prove her point, Luka propped his legs up on the small table she’d brought up, crossing his graffitied high tops across her notebook and smirking. She rolled her eyes and went to shove him off out of habit. Her hand passed right through him, making his feet look like a staticky TV picture for a second before they were back to normal. She frowned at them, too.

Luka seemed to take her meaning because he moved his feet back down and leaned forward on his elbows instead, tracing lazy patterns on her notebook with his painted fingernail as his eyebrows furrowed in thought beneath his blue-tipped bangs. The paper crinkled under his touch in the quiet between them.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he finally agreed.

She kept her eyes focused on those three black marks. For a moment she fantasized about taking his hand and tracing them, but she knew her hand would pass through his like she was trying to hold onto air. “It just doesn’t make sense,” she started again, “if you can’t touch people, why do you still have your marks?”

He laid his hand flat on the table, then, considering them. She rubbed at hers again self-consciously.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I guess it’s maybe because I died before I met them. You know, seventeen. I didn’t have much time. Jules still has hers, too.” His eyes flicked to her hand covering her mark. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s stupid,” she muttered. “I’ve just been wondering if maybe… you know…”

His eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs as a disbelieving grin spread across his face. She wished she could shove his shoulder or tug his beanie down over his nose or flick the gauges in his ears or do something to him. As it was, she tossed her pen at him, taking what small pleasure she could from it when it passed between his eyes, at least marring that grin for a split second.

“Shut up,” she said, her face flaming as she turned away. “I told you it was stupid.”

“What if it wasn’t, though?” he asked. “I mean, you said it yourself, I can touch other things. And who knows how these things really work, right? Maybe it doesn’t have to be a touch, maybe it can be… I don’t know, the intent of a touch, or—”

“Luka…” His name came out half as a warning and half as a sigh.

“I’m just saying, maybe we could try. Maybe—”

“It’s not you, Luka,” she said, her tone slipping out with more petulance than she meant it to. Which one of them was she trying to convince, anyways? “It can't be you. You’re—well, let’s face it. You’re a ghost. You're not real. Even if it was you—which it’s not, but if it was—I mean, how would that even work? I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me, and the marks only change when someone touches you for the first time. Everyone knows that’s how this works, and we—”

She stopped when she caught sight of his face again. Only a moment ago she’d been wishing she could wipe the grin off his face and now that it was actually gone, now that his shoulders were slumping in disappointment and his eyebrows were furrowing again, now she wished she hadn’t brought it up in the first place.

It hurt more than she thought it would. That maybe he’d thought about it, too, and wanted it as much as she did.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

She felt it when he poofed away a moment later, like a small bubble had popped leaving the atmosphere a little harder to breathe. She groaned and let her head fall against the table with a heavy thunk, then thunked it again a few more times for good measure.

***

And he did forget about it. Or at least he didn’t bring it up again over the next few weeks, although she did catch him looking at her marks more often. Usually with the same concentration as when he was trying to write his own lyrics down using the pen he was getting better and better at manipulating.

It wasn’t until she overheard him and Juleka arguing one night that she realized it was even still on his mind. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Luka’s exasperated tone made her pause before opening the door to the attic.

“She deserves someone real, Jules. Her real soulmate, whoever the lucky bastard is, and I’ll never be able to give her that. I mean, okay, let’s say I do tell her, and by some miracle she wants to give up waiting for her soulmate and be with me. Our options are basically I stay here, forever stuck at seventeen, and I watch her grow old and…”

The way he trailed off made Marinette picture him turning that focused gaze of his on his guitar as his jaw tensed, the way he sometimes did when his words failed him. It always made her think he wished he could let the guitar speak for him.

“I mean, she can never have a family with me, we can’t share our lives together,” he continued bitterly after a moment. “Hell, she can’t even tell anyone I exist because they’ll think she’s insane. Or what if I somehow manage to cross over and she’s left to try to figure out how to move on? It’s just…” For once Marinette actually heard him sit heavily on the couch, the leather whooshing out from under him and the supports creaking under the weight of his emotion. “I don’t see the point in telling her.”

There was a long pause and Marinette was starting to wonder if Juleka was even still in the room with him, but then she heard a sharp smack and Luka’s annoyed protest.

“The point,” Juleka shot back with more force in her voice than Marinette was used to hearing, “is that I’m sick of watching you moping around like this. And besides, don’t you think Marinette deserves to know?”

“Well—”

“Look, maybe you’re soulmates and maybe you’re not. You may never know, right?”

“Jules, I don’t think you understand—”

“But you love her, don’t you? Regardless of fate or whatever.”

“Of course, but—”

“So tell her.” Juleka’s voice was like steel and it made Marinette shiver to think of being on the receiving end of it.

She waited, breathless, for Luka’s response, but she only heard a small pop as one of them left. Tentatively, she pushed on the door and let it swing open. Luka was still on the couch with his head in his hands and his fingers dug into his hair as he stared at his shoes. He didn’t seem to notice her entrance until she knocked on the doorframe. His head snapped up and his eyes widened, but before she could even say ‘hello’ he popped out of the room, too, leaving her mind spinning and her heart pounding.

***

He wasn’t avoiding her. If anything, they spent more time together now than… before, but he always managed to make sure someone else was around. Her parents, especially, because he knew she wouldn’t talk to him in front of them, but that didn’t stop him from doing those annoying ghost things that drove her crazy.

Like pushing her plate to the side just as she was about to take a bite, or turning lights off randomly and grinning at her when her parents wondered about the fuses, or tucking doodles and notes and lyrics torn out of her own notebook but in his scratchy handwriting into her shoes and her hair bands and her backpack and—why did he have to be so infuriatingly adorable?

She was running out of reasons to explain why she was blushing and smiling so much nowadays. Especially since her mark was as black as ever.

***

It took a while, but eventually he slipped up. It was a band meeting. Juleka was missing, which wasn’t surprising; she’d been gone more often than not and anytime they asked where she’d been she’d mutter an excuse and hide, blushing, behind her hair.

So Ivan was acting as Luka’s buffer, preventing her, as usual, from asking him about what she’d overheard, until Luka mentioned a name, Mylène, and Ivan went quiet before he popped away without another word.

Luka muttered an apology to the air Ivan had been occupying before he froze and turned those same wide eyes on Marinette. She half-expected him to poof out, but instead he picked up his pen and started twirling it nervously through his long fingers. After what felt like an eternity of silence, she huffed out a breath and dove in.

“I heard everything, Luka.”

He nodded, flicking his eyes up briefly before focusing back on the pen. “I know.”

“So? What happens now?”

He shrugged and leaned back against the couch, avoiding her eyes. “Your call, boss.”

He was trying to look indifferent, unaffected, but she could tell by the way his pen was still spinning that he was only trying to distract himself. She rubbed at her marks, considering, then shifted closer to him. If he were actually sitting next to her, her knee would be leaning against his. Instead the boundary between them shimmered like a mist. It gave her a strange sense of warmth mixed with melancholy. She put her hand out on her knee, palm up, offering it to him.

All but his pen had frozen when she moved, but when his eyes flicked down to her hand, the pen slipped out of his focus and clattered to the floor.

She couldn’t help her small giggle at his astonishment. In a daze, he reached out to hover his hand over hers, his fingers arched so that his fingertips were poised on top of hers, but not quite daring to close the distance.

When he finally did, both of their shoulders fell when his hand passed entirely through her.

Luka pulled away with a small, bitter chuckle. She flexed her fingers, wishing that they felt any different. It should feel different. It was only because he wasn’t—no, not that he wasn’t real , because he most certainly was. And she couldn’t even say he wasn’t alive either, because Luka was the most alive person she’d ever known. Or at least that’s how he made her feel. So, then, it was only because they were on two different planes of existence. Two different places. That’s why they couldn’t…

“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have,” he muttered, but when she looked over he was smiling, flexing his fingers the same way she was.

She nodded to agree. Interesting. That was a good word for it.

***

“When did this happen?” Marinette asked as Juleka sheepishly moved her long hair aside to show the bubblegum pink mark across the back of her shoulders.

Juleka shrugged and hid her eyes behind her hair. “I dunno. A week ago maybe?”

Marinette shared a glance with Luka. About the same time she started disappearing from band meetings, then. She couldn’t help letting her eyes travel down to Luka’s hand. Juleka found her soulmate in the afterlife. That proved it was possible, right? Or what if Luka was meant to find another ghost like Juleka? What if she was actually the one standing in the way of his happiness? What if—

That strange sense of warmth passed through her and she realized Luka had come over to stand next to her and pass his hand through hers. It was a simple reminder of the other day and she got his message loud and clear.

I choose this.

If she could’ve, she would’ve laced her fingers through his and squeezed. Instead, she passed her hand back through his, echoing his message with her own.

Me, too.

***

The ache to touch him didn’t fade. It was always there, tugging at her heart. But it was nice, what they had. She was getting used to his way of being with her. The way he would sit closer now, letting his shoulder not quite brush against hers. Or the way he would reach for her hand, not seeming bothered when it went through her and instead letting his intent speak for him.

Maybe it wasn’t how she thought things would go. But it was working for them.

She was leaning over her notebook with her headphones in, focused on writing something for him when it happened.

She didn’t even know he was there. Usually he’d give her some sort of indication that he’d entered the room. A prickle on the back of her neck or an impression of warmth on her cheek or he’d make some sort of noise as he sat down. Maybe he did and she didn’t notice, but she did notice when her hair was gently pushed aside off her neck and it fell over her shoulder instead. She did notice the lingering sense of a featherlight touch. And not the ghostly touch she was used to. An actual touch.

She froze and pulled her headphones out and turned to find Luka standing behind her with a look of absolute awe on his face, his eyes locked onto the small expanse of skin he’d managed to bare. He’d managed to touch.

On the side of her neck, just below her ear.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he breathed.

#lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #julie and the phantoms au #soulmate au #LBSC sprint fic challenge #panda sprints

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 3 years

Text

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE PART THREE HERE

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Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

“Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

“It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

You looked at the clock again.

20:37

You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

Where was Spencer?

You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

You had cooked for him.

His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

“You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

“You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

“What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid angst #i'm back to ruin your life

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

The Other Side of Hollywood

Part Seven

Word Count: 5.2K+

Author’s Note: I KNOW THE GIF IS FROM EPISODE ONE BUT I WANTED TO USE IT EARLIER AND FORGOT SO HAVE IT NOW INSTEAD!!! And I couldn’t find the time to make my own gif of Luke in that suit today so you’ll get it tomorrow with the finale. Also, I am genuinely concerned for Willie in the real show so I did us all a favour and changed a thing or two.

Warning: threatening language, more jolts, sad stuff.

Linkaroonies - One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Masterlist and Y/N Moodboard.

The plan wasn’t exactly simple… But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the band really had no other choice.

After Julie’s rousing speech the night before, planning quickly began: what the boys had been struggling over for a week was quickly solved when they were reminded by Julie of their number one strength. Being ghosts. And after Willie stopped by to check in and promised to get rid of the opening act for Panic! At The Disco overnight, and after he assured them no-one would be hurt, maimed, or made into a ghost themselves in the process, he vanished and promised to report back by morning.

It’s how Alex, Reggie and Luke found themselves standing outside the Orpheum the next day, impatient in their wait for Willie’s return while Julie paced her way around the studio at home.

“Look, don’t worry guys, Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex assured, his eyes travelling up to the neon blue sign.

“This gonna work, right?” Reggie asked, glancing over at his bandmates, his brothers, with a look of worry. They were riding on Willie’s help, and after he disappeared last night, all that was left for them to do was plan a show that might not happen.

“It has too.” Luke said with a sigh, before all three of them were suddenly hit with another jolt. It sent them doubling over, the pain getting more intense and more frequent the closer they seemed to come to the week’s end – they were on a deadline.

“Hey, you guys ok?” A voice asked behind them, Willie appearing out of the thin air, quickly looking around himself as if someone was missing. He seemed confused, but quickly looked back to the three guys in front of him.

“Yeah.” Alex answered after the trio shared a glance. “Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before… How’d it go?” He asked, and Willie smiled.

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas with no chance of getting back in time.” Willie turned to show the jacket he had nabbed from the band that was meant to be supporting P!ATD that night, turning back around and receiving a fist bump from Luke. Another whoosh sounded from behind Willie, Luke’s smile immediately fading away while Alex and Reggie looked surprised.

“You know, that means there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freaking out.” Y/N smiled, Willie looking at her with a proud expression. “Hey Reggie.” She said with a wave of her fingers, the boy waving back. “Alex.” She nodded. “… Denim. Like the fleece.” She complimented, earning a snicker from Alex, who quickly stopped with a glance at Luke…

He had never seen him look so angry.

“What is she doing here?” Luke asked Willie, only to be interrupted by a jangle of keys, the item finally through the air and forcing Luke to instinctively catch them. A set of keys, and by the stickers and keyring, it seemed like they were the keys for the tour bus currently stuck in the middle of the desert.

“I told you last night I wanted to help… And Willie can’t drive. Not as well as I can anyway.” She explained herself quickly, and it became clear why Willie was so pleased: Y/N seemed to have switched sides.

“Thanks, Y/N…” Reggie said after a moment, earning a scowl from Luke. “What? She helped!” He defended himself, and Y/N just smiled at the bassist.

“It’s alright Reg.” She promised. “I wouldn’t be forgiving me either…” Y/N’s eyes fell to the ground, her shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. “The things you’ll do for family, right?” She muttered, loud enough for only Luke to really hear. It left him confused for a moment, not quite sure what she meant, and the silence that followed was quickly broken by Willie.

“You, know, I might have to disagree, Y/N. From what I’ve seen, Hollywood promoters are super chill in the face of… Problems.” Willie said with a chuckle, and Y/N smiled softly, bringing up a hand and messing with his hair.

“Good luck tonight, guys… I mean that.” She said with a final glance at the boys before her, all looking a little more hopeful than the night before, before disappearing into the air. Alex took a few steps forward to Willie once the air had settled again, pulling him aside from Reggie and Luke, who quickly caught on and backed away a little.

“I know…” Alex paused, taking a breath, clasping and unclasping his hands. “How much you’re risking…” His eyes finally met Willie’s, who was smiling bright and sweet. “Thank you, Willie.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you.” Willie responded with a shrug, meaning the words he spoke. Alex hesitated for a moment, almost tempted to end it there, but his heart got the better of him, pulling Willie into a tight hug.

They held onto each other for a moment, Alex knowing that if something went wrong, it might just be the last time he got to see the skater. Willie was quick to hug back, his head going into the crook of Alex’s neck, his eyes closing as he breathed in, trying to retain Alex’s faint smell of dust and old cologne.

“Right…” Alex pulled away first, patting Willie’s shoulder before taking a step back, clearing his throat. “You uh… You’d better get out of here before Caleb catches you with us.”

“Yeah…” Willie nodded, a poof of air landing his skateboard in his hands. “I’ll see you around, hot dog.” He smiled, and Alex smiled back for a moment: it’s the first time Willie had used the nickname since the club, since all this chaos began.

Willie dropped his board to the ground, Alex watching him skate away as his friends came back to his side, Reggie placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alex, you all right, man?” He asked, genuinely concerned, but Alex shrugged him off and nodded, turning to face his bandmates with a small smile, sad in nature.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Well…” Luke started. “Thanks to Willie, Panic! At The Disco needs an opening band.” The attention was brought back to the job at hand, Luke ignoring Reggie’s addition of “And Y/N…”.

“Then I guess someone up there needs to know we’re available.” Alex smiled, his friends smiling right back as they poofed away in unison, only to land two storeys above in an office, where a very angry man was shouting down a phone.

“Stop… Stop saying the bus drove itself!” The man yelled, banging the phone against the desk in the hope to release some of his frustration, while his assistant watched on with a sigh.

“Yeah, Willie was right… This guy’s a total pro.” Reggie whispered, the sarcasm clear, and earning a chuckle from a decreasingly less grumpy Luke.

“All right, boys. Let the magic happen.” Luke announced, before feigning a stern expression. “Alex, no dancing!” He commanded, prompting the blond boy to jump and raise his arms like a ballerina.

Alex danced his way over to the far side of the assistant’s desk with poise and grace that left both Reggie and Luke near tears from laughter as they followed him. With a twirl a flick of his wrist, Alex knocked a pencil holder to the floor, and in a mad rush of Alex writing and Luke directing Reggie in finding their YouTube video from the week before, the boys stepped back as the assistant lifted herself and the fallen object back to the desk.

She was surprised to find a video playing on her screen when she sat back up, and quickly scrolled down to see who exactly this band were, even more surprised by their amazing sound.

“Tasha!” Her boss called to the assistant, who glanced up from her laptop. “Get me CJ. Tell him I need a band to open in 3 hours.” He demanded, and she grinned.

“Sure, but you might want to check this out.” Tasha sat back, continuing to watch the video as her boss hurried over, and Alex couldn’t help but chuckle as the boys watched the scene unfold before them. “Somehow this video started playing on my laptop. It’s got 4 million hits in just a week.”

“Who are they?” He asked, shocked, and Tasha scrolled down the page.

“They’re a hologram band. They call themselves Julie and the Phantoms.” She read out.

“Tell your friends.” Reggie instinctively replied.

“Where are they located?” He asked quickly, and she smiled even wider.

“Our very own City of Angels.”

“Then book ‘em!” Her boss demanded, the boys sharing a cheer.

“Sure, I just don’t know how to…” Tasha trailed off, her eyes falling onto a post-it note, right there on her desk, bearing a number alongside the band’s name.

“Your handwriting is better than mine…” Luke mumbled, earning a pat on the back and nod from Alex before the three vanished, headed home to find Julie and tell her the good news.

“Oh my God!” Was the first thing they head when they landed, Julie having spent most her day pacing the studio: by the looks of it, she had worn down the carpet. “What took you guys so long?! Did Willie do it? Did you talk to them? Did they watch? Did they like us? Are we playing tonight? Can someone answer me? Why’s no-one talking-”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of questions!” Reggie interrupted, allowing Julie a chance to catch her breath. “Luke, you wanna take this one?” He suggested, and Luke turned to face Julie with a smile.

“Take a seat.” He instructed, and Julie’s sat back on the couch she had been too anxious to stay on earlier, while the boys found themselves kneeling on the other side of the table. Atop it, sat Julie’s phone. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.” Luke said with a smile.

“Yeah. Willie and Y/N took care of the other band, and we saw them watch the video.” Julie smiled a little at the mention of Y/N’s name, glad the ghost-girl she had become so close to over the last week was on their side. “You should be getting a call right… Now!” Alex explained, pointing to the phone and everyone leaned forward. When the screen stayed blank, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Right… Now!” He pointed a second time, this time the action followed by the screen lighting up with an unknown number, the boys high-fiving. “Nailed it…”

“The phone!” The boys quickly realised Julie was yet to answer after a moment had passed, and she quickly grabbed her mobile, the room going silent as she answered.

“Hello?” She said softly, the tension thick in the air as they waited.

“Hi, this is Tasha from the Orpheum…”

Y/N had always been Willie’s best friend. If anything, she was more like his over-protective younger sister. From the moment he arrived at the club, she was watching out for him, keeping him safe, and she intended to keep doing that, whatever the cost. Even if it led to her handing over the boy she liked on a silver platter with his bandmates to Caleb. Even if it meant spending eternity being hated by the people she wanted most to like her, Willie included.

Because, when all is said and done, Y/N would do anything to protect her family.

“Why so blue, sunset?” Caleb asked as he walked into the club to find her keeping up with her daily chores: scrubbing away at the floor until Caleb could see his reflection on the wood. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big dance number tonight?”

“I don’t want to perform anymore. Not for you.” Y/N muttered, getting up from the floor to sort herself out with some fresh water, a hand coming to her shoulder. “You know, the only time I’ve ever enjoyed anything to do with music was when I sang with Luke? With the band you want so badly to tear away from Julie. My friend?”

“They aren’t your friends, Y/N… I’m your friend.” Caleb corrected, gesturing for Y/N to set down the bucket and sit, which she did without hesitation. “I’m also the friend who owns your soul, owns your best friend’s soul.” He reminded, and Y/N sighed. “So, you do what I say. I say I want you on my stage tonight, that’s where you’ll be. Got it?” He snapped, and Y/N quickly nodded. “Good. Now, what have they been up to since we last spoke?”

“They’ve figured out their unfinished business… They plan to finish it tonight.” She reported back, and Caleb froze. “You’re too late.”

“The lifer’s address. Give it to me.” Caleb demanded, and Y/N stood up, taking steps towards backstage, only to be hit by a jolt that sent her to her knees.

“Caleb please… Please just let this go, let Willie go. Reconsider.” She begged, coughing through her words to try and lessen the pain in her chest.

“I OWN YOU!” Caleb yelled. “You do what I say! Now,” He snapped his fingers, changing from a suit into a tuxedo and top hat combo. “Tell me where they are.” With a roll of his hand, he offered Y/N a pen and paper.

As she wrote down Julie’s address, Y/N could only hope that the boys were already at the Orpheum, already with Julie and ready to play again. He smiled as she scrawled the address down, snatching the paper back and closing his eyes as he disappeared, leaving Y/N to recover, to change…

To get ready for another show.

“Julie and I were thinking we start with Stand Tall.” Luke suggested, he, Alex and Reggie gathered around the grand piano in the studio, deciding the final order of the songs. He looked up to find both his bandmates rather out of it, and frowned.

“Perfect.” Alex said with a quick nod.

“Sounds good.” Reggie added with a sigh.

“Sounds good?” Luke asked, looking between the two like he was missing something. “Dude wake up! I wanna hear ‘it sounds awesome’!” Luke said with vigour, trying to pump up his friends, before letting his shoulders drop. “I know this isn’t how we wanted things to turn out, but we gotta be all in tonight.” He reminded them. “This is our second chance at playing the Orpheum!”

“I… I get it, I get it, but it’s hard.” Reggie said in a soft voice, melancholic and sincere. “Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we all still get to hang together? You…” Reggie paused, his shoulders slumping. “You guys are the only family I have.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen either, but… It’s not like we have a choice.” Alex said softly, reaching to place a hand on Reggie’s shoulder when another jolt hit the three, sending them doubling over.

It was worse this time, a lot worse, the pain no longer in their side but the centre of their chest, almost like the jolts had been travelling this whole time towards their hearts. Each was having to find support from the piano to simply stand up at all, and as the pain started to fade from their chests, it relocated to their wrists where the stamps marked their skin.

“I’m pretty sure we do… And it rhymes with the Hollywood Ghost Club.” Reggie said with malice in his voice as he rubbed his wrist, his friends sharing the same thought as the garage doors opened, Julie walking in and pausing at the unhappy looks on her friends’ faces.

“Are you ready?” She asked before fully registering the situation, her smile quickly dropping. “What’s wrong?” She asked, holding on tighter to her dress, stored neatly in a clothing bag. The boys did their best to hide the level of pain they were in, Alex brushing it off with a light chuckle and smile.

“Yeah. We just got rocked pretty hard by one of those jolt things.” He explained with a shrug, leading the walk over to their friend, their bandmate, their leading lady.

“Pretty sure I ghost peed a little.” Reggie added with a forlorn look, Alex glancing over and rolling his eyes at the comment.

“We’re fine though.” Luke smiled. “How are you doing?” He asked, noticing the way his friend wringed her hands round the coat hanger.

“I’m a little nervous actually.” She admitted with a slight laugh. She was, after all, about to play the Orpheum, one of the most well-known stages in LA. She hung the dress on the door quickly, rubbing her hands against the denim of her jeans.

“Julie, you’ll be amazing, as always.” Reggie reminded, receiving nods of agreement from the other guys, easing Julie’s nerves slightly.

“Can… Can I ask a favour?” She said softly, looking at the three idiots who had become part of her family, who had become her home.

“Anything, Julie. You know that.” Luke smiled, and Julie nodded, looking down at her toes and taking a breath.

“When you guys cross over, if…” Julie swallowed, and Alex took a step closer in concern. “If any of you happen to see my mom, can you tell her I love her… and thank her for bringing you to me?” She asked softly, sad smiles being shared between the four: it was a request the boys most definitely hoped to keep for her.

“We will.” Alex said softly, on behalf of the three of them, and Luke cleared his throat.

“Guys, band circle.” He ordered, the four coming together and joining hands where possible. “We don’t know what brought us here, but what we do know is… You’re a star, Julie.” Luke smiled at her, a feeling of pride swelling in him the boys no doubt shared: she was their Julie, and the last months had changed them all. “And just because this is our last night together, it doesn’t mean we won’t be watching you from above… or…” Luke glanced down at the floor with a light chuckle, earning scoffs from his bandmates. “Now let’s go rock this show, and give them a night they’ll be talking about until the sun comes up.” He jumped a little with the words, and more laughs were shared. “Legends on three.” Luke said finally, putting his hand into the circle’s centre.

“One.” Alex responded immediately, his hand landing on top of Luke’s.

“Two.” Reggie followed with a dopey smile and a shrug.

“… Three.” Julie finished, all four raising their hands with a cry of ‘Legends!’, quickly followed by Julie’s dad Ray beeping his horn. “That’ll be my dad. He’s driving me there, so I’ll see you guys soon.” She smiled at the three of them, grabbing her dress and jogging out the door and down the driveway to where her dad waited.

The guys watched the leave before drifting around the room, taking it all in for one last time. While Reggie and Alex got lost in their own dazes, Luke’s eyes travelled to the couch, his mind replaying the sound of Y/N’s voice when she sang with them the week before. The feelings of her head on his thigh, the way her laugh vibrated through her body into his, the way their hands felt interlocked.

“Take it in boys, it’s the last time we’ll see this place.” Luke said under his breath, but Reggie and Alex heard him. They were thinking the same thing.

“And where is it that you think you’re going?” The voice came first, followed by a flash and Caleb, who lounged on the grand piano before the boys in a top hat and tuxedo. He seemed to radiate evil now that they knew what and who Caleb really was, so obviously they felt stupid for not realising before.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asked in a growl, stepping in front of Reggie and Alex, ready to take on the first round with the man who was trying to enslave them for the rest of time.

“Such hostility!” Caleb said with a tut and a gasp, shaking his head. “I’m just here to congratulate you on your big night.” He let out a chuckle. “Not everyone gets to play the Orpheum!”

“No. Ok, we know that it’s your stamp that’s hurting us.” Luke informed as he pulled his sleeve up to show the stamp, the branding, on his wrist. “We already told you, we have a band. We don’t want to join your little club.”

“Yeah, and you can’t make us either…” Alex built up the courage to back up Luke, but after a glance and raised eyebrow from Caleb, he cleared his throat. “Sir.”

“Right! You’re crossing over tonight. So exciting!” Caleb whispered, the dramatic facial expressions just emphasising his sarcasm. “Funny thing about the cross over, no-one really knows what’s waiting on the other side.” He told them with a wave of the hand and an evil smirk, tapping the brim on his hap. “But I know what’s happening on this side.” With a pressing of his hand to his mouth, Caleb blew a kiss and sent the boys spiralling…

Only to land straight up somewhere unfortunately familiar, dressed in new clothes and armed with their instruments. It wasn’t the first thing Luke noticed as he landed though, no… What came first was the noise.

“You told me you would help them, Y/N!” It was Willie’s voice shouting, which surprised Luke most considering that he had never met someone so friendly, so chilled out. As his eyes focused, his view of the pair became clearer, Y/N stood before them in a stunning deep green dress, a single tear trailing down her cheek as Willie yelled. “You lied, and you lied again! How could you do this to them, to me?!”

“I didn’t have another option Will…” Her voice wobbled; her eyes red as she did her best not to sob. Y/N looked broken, reaching out for a pacing Willie but never quite getting to hold him. “I picked the lesser of two-”

“What did you get in return, huh? The penthouse suite?! Control over the work rota?!” Willie asked. “What did he give you this time to do his dirty work, Y/N?” Willie asked, his head turning and stopping dead as he spotted the three boys, stumbling back and hitting the floor. “No, no…”

“Well, don’t they look nice?” Caleb’s voice led five pairs of eyes to his descending the staircase, now dressed in a purple sequin tail coat, filing his nails as the boys looked over themselves, the tuxedos they had been put into.

“Sweet threads..” Reggie managed, earning a smile from Caleb.

“How… How’d you know our size?” Alex asked, glancing over, and seeing Willie for the first time, his heart breaking at the sight of him.

“That’s your question?” Luke snapped, though Alex was now preoccupied, and his eyes fell on Caleb with a glare, before passing over to Y/N. She looked beautiful in spite of her tear stained cheeks and paler than normal complexion. He hadn’t noticed it earlier that day, nor the night before: but she did look sick.

“I know you boys aren’t my biggest fans.” Caleb said with a tut and a sigh, gesturing as he spoke. “And an eternity at my club might seem overwhelming. But… I just put you in sweet threads, so humour me this one last pitch.” He handed off the nail file, taking a few steps back and taking both Willie and Y/N by the arms, bringing them both to his sides. “Now, first off, isn’t it nice that you’re all here together? And believe me, thanks to Y/N, everything you want, including Willie,” He nodded to Alex, “Including Y/N,” His gaze settled back on Luke, giving the two uncomfortable teens at his side a squeeze. “It’s here. And on my stage, you don’t vanish when the music stops. You soak in the applause for as long as you want. The connection that you will feel with that audience,” Caleb dropped his hands from Y/N and Willie, walking forward and straightening Luke’s bow tie. “It will be like no other.” He smiled a little. “I promise.”

“I’m so sorry-”Y/N began to apologise, this time her gaze directed towards Luke, but Caleb shushed her.

“Do you hear that? They’re waiting for you.” Caleb stated as cheers began from out in the audience, viewers ready for a show. The boys were suddenly hit by another jolt, curling up at the pain, only to hear a female whimper, and a thud, eyes following Y/N as she slumped down to the ground. “That one looked like it hurt.” Caleb said with a shrug, walking back towards the stage. “Now, let me remind you, you don’t know if playing the Orpheum is your unfinished business. Do you really have time to make that mistake? I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking.” Caleb lifted a glass of champagne and took a sip as another jolt ran through the boys, this time they witnessed it run through Y/N as well. “You know where to find me.”

As Caleb’s music started up in the background, Willie helped pull Y/N to her feet despite his anger, the girl gripping onto his arm and pulling up the sleeve.

“Y/N, what are you-” Willie asked, trying to pull away when he saw his stamp begin to glow, and like magic lift off of his arm. The boys watched on in amazement, Willie’s stamp shattering in the air into nothing, leaving the skin on Willie’s wrist clear.

“You were working for him all along…” Luke muttered, and Y/N looked up, holding tight to Willie.

“He gave me an offer… Either you three died and Willie was destroyed along with you… Or you all lived, with the bonus of Willie… Winning back his soul.” Y/N explained, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“The things we do for family…” Luke muttered, finally understanding what she had said before.

“I’m so sorry I did this…” Y/N groaned and held a hand to her head, sitting herself down on the floor as the words of Caleb’s song floated around her head, as she watched Alex begin to twirl a drumstick between his fingers and Reggie bounce to the track’s beat. “Willie you need to leave… Go somewhere safe.”

“The studio…” Alex suggested absentmindedly, before he disappeared in to a puff of smoke, only to reappear on the stage by the drum kit.

“You’ll be safe there…” Y/N promised, and with a final glance back at the stage, Willie left the Hollywood Ghost Club a free man for the first time ever.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Luke asked, Reggie disappearing from his side as he knelt down to see to the girl clutching her head. Reggie’s infamous bass lines began to resonate around the room, and Luke felt his fingers itching to play, felt his body dying to be on the stage.

His heart wanted to stay, with Y/N…

“Now Luke.” Caleb called from the stage, Luke’s hands working with a mind of their own as they began to play, his legs pulling him from Y/N’s body as the temptation took over.

The moment Luke’s feet crossed over the threshold of side lines to stage, a cosmic shift occurred with the completion of Y/N’s deal. To the sound of guitar riffs and drum beats, Y/N’s mind was filled with memories of a life she never knew, of a life Caleb stole from her…

Of a life Caleb took away.

The boys hadn’t arrived… They didn’t get to cross over. The jolts got them first.

The fears circled through Julie’s brain as she ran from Flynn and Rob, the tech manager, fleeing out the Orpheum’s side door onto the alleyway. As she broke through the doorway, her feet came to a slow stop, recovering from the run. Julie looked to her left, her right, and finally to the sky as the cold night air set in, traffic passing by on the main road, the blue glow of the Orpheum’s catching on driving cars. And, like that, Julie just felt angry. Like the world had turned its back on her and stolen the people she loved over and over again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Mom, but…” Julie started, cut off for a moment by a soft sob. “I can’t handle it.” She admitted to air. “You know, Flynn says you’re supposed to be behind everything, but I don’t know… If I was supposed to help the guys, I didn’t.” Another sob racked her body, and Julie tilted her head back. “They’re gone and I’m so sorry… They were my friends, my band… My family.” She sniffed at the thought, wiping her tears away with her hands. “Why can’t you just come pick me up and… and hold me in your arms and just tell me that everything’s gonna be ok and that I’m gonna get through it?” Her voice cracked at the thought, and Julie took a shaky breath. “And tell me that even though they’re not here with me, they’re still up there with you. I just… I just wish you were here.” Julia sighed, her head dropping down as she finished, a passer-by stopping by her side.

She looked the poor girl over, dressed like a popstar in a back alley, crying to someone who was no longer there, and felt the deepest movement of sympathy within her. Without thinking much of it, she held out one of her newly bought dahlias to the young girl, who accepted it with surprise, and made her way home.

Julie looked at the flower, the sign she had been waiting for, and turned towards the side entrance of the Orpheum, her glance triggering a gust of wind to throw the doors open and send a picture from a pinboard by the entrance off of its pin, floating down to the ground. Picking the photo up from the floor, Julie felt even warmer inside, immediately noticing the face in the centre of the picture. Even twenty five years younger, her mother had the same smile and hair and eyes, she threw her head back to laugh in the same way.

That’s what the photo was: her mom in that same jacket Julie wore that night, holding tightly to her friends as they posed for the photo. Her mom wasn’t centre though, instead it was a girl in a birthday hat, her smile bright as he held a hand to her chest and another over the third friend’s shoulder.

“Rosalee…”

Julie, with her dahlia in one hand and the photo in the other, marched back down the stairs and back to stage side where Flynn and Rob were trying to co-ordinate and get Brendon Urie on stage. Instead, Julie stopped for a moment by Flynn’s side, a smile on her face as she brandished the flower like a sword and pressed the photo to Flynn’s chest.

“Signs.” She said simply, walking on stage without hesitation, which prompted Flynn to look down at what she had been handed by her best friend.

A photo of Julie’s mom, about twenty something years younger, beside the girl Flynn had seen flickering at the party as she sang with the band.

A photo of Rose and Y/N… From 1995.

Part Eight (The End) is here...

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soukokuwu · 4 years

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what if chu's s/o escapes port mafia, leaving chuuya to think she left him like dazai did (but in reality, she was pregnant & didn't want the child to grow up in PM. though she has taken extra measures so her son will not be endangered, PM still managed to kidnap him and hold him hostage in exchange for her to come back to their ranks. it is when she comes to save their son that chu discovers that the child is his. you do your own take if you want, your writing, your choice! 💓💓

HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARDS. genre. hmmm,, i guess it’s fluffy synopsis. you reveal a secret you’ve kept to yourself for so long, it’s time you finally come clean. word count. 2,680 author notes. hi, thank you this was an interesting request, i tried not to make it too long. & i usually don’t put so much dialogue (if at all XD) so i hope you can still enjoy this <33

PRESENT.

“Boss, the VIPs are here to see you, they’re being held down at the lobby. Do you want to send them up here?”

The chair swirls around, revealing the man behind the table, a picture of perfect composure. A curt nod is all it takes for the goon to leave the room, ready to escort the guests up.

Once the doors are closed again, he puts the cigarette out on his ashtray, exhaling that last puff of smoke. Gloved fingers intertwine together as he ponders long and hard about how he should greet them later.

The man eyes the drawer under his table, the bottom leftmost one — the special drawer. He opens it languidly to unveil a stash of letters, too many to count at one glance. That’s not surprising though. After all, it’s twelve years’ worth of letters. He grabs the top one, beady eyes glossing over its contents. He folds it back along the same lines.

They all look the same. Made out to him, but with no return address.

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

“They found someone at the house. We have him right now.”

The man on the other line seems to still have something to say, but the redhead doesn’t allow him. It’s a matter that can’t wait.

“Keep him there, make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Chuuya leaves the rest of the torturing to his colleagues as he exits the premises. He recalls what his subordinate reported earlier. ‘Him’? He scoffs. It’s been six years since you left the mafia and basically vanished into thin air. Which is a considerably long time, but Chuuya still can’t wrap the possibility around there being a new guy in your life.

Besides, the redhead didn’t do anything wrong. Why did you have to leave without a word? Why did you feel the need to leave at all, even? It couldn’t be stress. No way. You worked at the Port Mafia casino, yes. You were in charge of it all, and it did anything but stress you out. You loved working there. You loved the gamble. You absolutely revelled in the risk.

They put you in charge of the casino for more reasons than one. You were very calculative, very meticulous. You always had your moves planned out beforehand and you were always able to tell your opponents’ hand without even having to cheat. The gambling was definitely one of the reasons why you were so good at manipulating people. It was also one of the reasons why even Mori asked for your help in some cases.

But your best quality as a mafioso?

Your unpredictability. Or, as Mori dubbed it, your insanity. In both gambling and in general. You had helped the mafia win favours over more than just a few officials by winning against them — be it in poker or any other games. You weren’t even below playing russian roulette. Sure, Chuuya had been worried at first, but after a while it was pretty clear you’d always make it out of it safe — was it luck or was it pure calculation, or a mixture of both perhaps? Chuuya doesn’t really question it. And when it came to planning missions, your unconventional methods always helped, because no one would ever see it coming.

That blew up in his face though. You left him without any clues pertaining to your whereabouts or why you left in the first place. He thought you left along with his ex-partner, that maybe it had something to do with him. But it was apparent that wasn’t the case. Not when you didn’t surface at all even when Dazai did. He couldn’t help but keep thinking of potential things that happened to you. Did you leave because you met someone else? Doubtful. But given how long it’s been, it’s certainly not out of the question that you already did meet someone else by now.

You’re beautiful, smart, fun. You’re everything anyone could wish for. You’re so understanding that sometimes Chuuya questions where you get your patience from. You were just perfect, in every sense of the word.

Chuuya groans just thinking of everything. Even after being kicked to the curb, why is it that now he is still attracted to you? Lucky he was, though. Because that’s the only reason he agreed with Mori’s plan to put all efforts into seeking you out. You were incredibly elusive, and a pain in the ass because of that. And had it not been for a certain intense war against an enemy organisation, they would’ve let you go on with your life, wherever you ended up. You’ve been very quiet, not spreading anything about the mafia, or else Mori would’ve picked up on it. Very well-behaved, and a pardon would’ve been your reward.

But even the best needs help sometimes. And Mori specifically wants yours. He probably figured Chuuya was the biggest factor that would tilt things in their favour, and he agrees. Which is why he heads this mission in the first place. Not only is he the biggest shot at getting you back, but he wants to see you. Wants to know exactly why you left him the way you did.

Closure. He wants closure.

Life is funny though. Because he ends up with more questions than answers when he opens the door to his office.

Suddenly all the idle chatter he passes by in the hallway makes sense. The ones that just skip past his ears because he’s too deep in thought about you. He remembers the gist of them though. Things like “he’s so cute, like a model,” and “right? I think he looks handsome” (to which Chuuya was slightly annoyed by because he thought it was referring to your new beau).

But no, he wasn’t greeted with a man. He opened his doors to find a boy with eyes as blue as the ocean sitting on his desk, fiddling with his pens. Eyes that remind him of the exact shade he looks at in the mirror everyday. Chuuya hurriedly shuts the door, locks it, and steps hesitantly toward the boy.

This boy… looks roughly about six years old. And Chuuya feels his breath hitching in his throat. That’s around the time you went missing. He feels everything closing in around him, the fear of why you left him finally being made clear to him.

Weirdly enough, the boy isn’t the tiniest bit scared. His head is tilted, fingers still fiddling with Chuuya’s fountain pen, and waiting for Chuuya to reach him. He blinks his little eyes, before finally smiling up at him after a while. He opens his mouth, a simple word leaving his delicate lips.

“Daddy!”

Chuuya isn’t even allowed a further minute to process it before he hears knocking on the ceiling and someone falls through the vent onto the floor; one with an all-too-familiar figure. And who flashes an all-too-familiar grin.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Half an hour later Chuuya finds himself struggling to process all the information you’ve unloaded on him. He observes as his son draws on a random piece of paper he’s found lying around, in the other side of the room.

“You let them think they’ve captured our son, when in reality you were waiting for them to?”

You nod. Chuuya internally facepalms himself. How is it that you’re able to gamble with this, too? With your — and his — son’s life on the line? You basically left him there to be abducted, knowing that they won’t do anything without Chuuya’s permission (who’s to say he wouldn’t have allowed them to torture the kid? Well, he wouldn’t, but still…) and then sneak yourself past security and into his office, all in the hopes of letting him know he has a son?

Then again, you wouldn’t bet something like that if you didn’t believe that things would absolutely go your way. He’s been with you for so long before, he’s familiar with your moves and the way you think. Not completely, but good enough.

It was so brilliantly simple. (Also, you used to sneak into his office through the vents when your relationship was still under wraps, so it really wasn’t a surprise to him that you chose to sneak in through there now.)

“Why now, after all this time? Why tell me now?”

For a moment he catches a brief look of guilt wash over your face. You lie back on the couch on your spot next to him, and close your eyes, as though bracing for an outburst as his response.

“I didn’t want to tell you at all, at first…” you trail off, the guilt completely taking over you now. “I only came now because… I want you to get Mori off my back.”

Now Chuuya understands why.

So, you didn’t even intend to give him a chance to meet his son, let alone let him be involved in any part of your life. But you only appeared because you knew Mori would come after you, demand for your help. The only reason you showed yourself today… was to convince Chuuya to help you. Because if there’s anyone who could convince Mori to back off, Chuuya could. And you understood that all too well.

Chuuya can just laugh at himself right now. How foolish is he, to think that you came back because you still harboured feelings for him. How pathetic of him.

He can sense his expression growing grim. Not that he’ll make any attempts to conceal it. His cerulean eyes travel from his son to you. You seem a little less guilty now, though. You look… at peace, somehow.

“What makes you think I’ll do what you want?”

“Because you want to prove me wrong.”

Your answer catches him off guard, and his anger is replaced by utter confusion. You take his silence as your cue to explain.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think you’d make a good father and do what’s right for our son. Prove me wrong. Keep our son away from this. Do what a good father would and give him a chance to grow up normal.”

Chuuya scoffs. So that’s why you didn’t tell him anything. Never told him you were pregnant. Never hinted at a goodbye. You’d rather be branded a traitor like Dazai instead of having to make Chuuya choose between you and the mafia. He knows; if you set your mind on something, it’s hard to change it. And in other situations it might’ve been negotiable, but not with your baby.

You know Chuuya would never betray the mafia. That’s why you think he’d never make a good father. Because he can’t put you or the baby first. And now… Now you come with good faith. You’re trying to believe that he can learn to be a good father.

Starting with this choice.

This impossible choice.

Except not really. He knows what he’ll end up choosing anyway. You were right. If he knew you were pregnant he’d have convinced you to stay with the mafia, convinced you that he’d make sure the baby is well-protected. But then he’d be missing the point of your whole argument. You grew up in the mafia, and technically, so did he. You knew how it didn’t allow a chance at normalcy, and you didn’t want to strip your baby of that choice. You wanted your child to at least have a taste of what being normal is like, before you ultimately let them choose what they want.

Now, even if he gives an unfavourable reply, he knows you’d do anything to keep his son away from the mafia. It’s only a question of whether or not you’d have to struggle against Chuuya for it.

Silently, he stretches a hand out to you as he gets up from the couch. He can see the subtle surprise on your face. You’re impressed, aren’t you? He has on the best poker face since you’ve met him. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, this being the first of such instance since you’ve met him. He doesn’t say a thing when you ask him what he’s up to, only continuing to offer his hand to you, keeping mum.

A gamble, a risk you’d have to take. You can either take his hand and see where he leads you, which could lead to you getting your way or it could just lead to total destruction. Or, you can refuse, and then you’d have to figure a way out on your own. Which Chuuya doesn’t doubt you’d already have ingrained in your head.

But he knows you’ll choose the former. Why? It’s the only one where an inherent risk is present. Because you’d be totally in his mercy.

And that’s why you find yourself flown out of the headquarters, onto some random building’s rooftop. A perfect view of the setting sun and an even more perfect view of your old lover, striking crimson locks imitating the beauty of the orange sunset.

Looks like it paid off.

“Will you let me know where you’re staying? A child needs his father,” Chuuya asks you, your fingers intertwined in his, and you forgot just how much you missed this; him.

“And the mafia needs you.”

A swift rejection, but he’s not going to give up so easily.

“I have a right to know. He’s my son too.”

You inch closer to him and he feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest. It’s been six years since he’s been this close to you, and he can’t believe he has to let you go again. With your son in tow, too. Without so much as a clue as to where you’re going to move to. No way to find out. Given that they only managed to find you in the first place because you wanted to be found.

“Maybe if you’re the boss or something.”

PRESENT.

Now here he is, sitting in the office, new king of the Port Mafia. And his two very important guests are making their way up here. Chuuya hurriedly puts the letters back away. They were how you communicated with him, updated him on you and your son. Though you never put any return address, so Chuuya couldn’t send one back even if he wanted to. Also, you didn’t include any photos, so Chuuya is curious how his son has turned out.

Your timing is impeccable, to choose to visit him just as he’s taken over the office. He suspects maybe you have your ways, what with the vast amount of officials you have wrapped around your finger.

But as the doors open, every other thought he has is thrown out the window. You enter first, and his face lights up, seeing those familiar pair of eyes, so warm, so inviting now. And behind you, your son, now slightly taller than you (and probably Chuuya but he refuses to think of that), greeting him with a polite nod and a smirk on his face.

A wave of understanding washes across his child’s face when he spots something hanging on the wall behind his father.

“Hey! You kept the drawing I did when I first came here!”

He had drawn the three of you together, with himself in the middle, his parents on either side of him, holding his hands and walking in a park.

Chuuya chuckles. “Of course, it was the only thing your mom let me remember you by.” He shifts his gaze over to you as your son gets the hint, moving to admire another far corner of the room.

You let yourself fall into his arms, and Chuuya hugs you tight. Because it’s taken eighteen years. A long, torturous eighteen years apart, which honestly was a run in circles, though it was a necessary one. But now finally, he can be together with you, and his son. Chuuya looks down at you with the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen, wet eyes threatening to spill with tears any moment now.

“Welcome home, my love.”

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years

Text

Daminette Rough Layout AU #1

Warning- This is a Salt AU, it contains Lila salt, Adrien Salt, Alya Salt and Class Salt. Some of the Salt is dramatized, pkease read at your own digression.

Note- Changing things up a bit-they are in high school now-Damian 16 and Marinette 15 and juniors, obviously things are different from canon. Gabriel gave up both miraculous after Adrien dies in one of the akuma fights, he has Nooroo and Duusu bring them to the guardian. Marinette helps heal Duusu so that if he is ever used again the holder will not start to die. Soon after Master Fu takes back Adrien's miraculous and names Marinette the guardian.

He doesnt lose his memories but he does pass away a week later. Marinette also deletes her original website and makes and entire new one under MDC designs after Lila threatens to leave bad reviews.(This happens before she meets Damian, right when they are entering high school.)

They met online after Damian got tired of his brothers making fun of him for talking like an old man. He found Marinette on Twitter, (She has a very popular Twitter blog where she Tweets in English and is considered a meme god.) and after reading her tweets decided that she'd be a good teacher.

After reaching out they agreed on how much she'll be paid and a time that works best for both of them. Every Monday & Wednesday the video chat when Damian has his lunch and study period. For Damian it is 12 to 1 pm, and for Marinette it is 7 to 8 pm. After two months Marinette has successfully made Damian her friend, and he has began opening up to her more. Meanwhile Damian begins to mess with his brothers using memes.

Tim to Jason- I will die if I don't get coffee soon.

Damian passing by the kitchen on his phone- Then perish.

Jason-...Did he just?

Tim- Impossible.

_____________

Dick over the coms while on patrol-I really want candy right now.

Damian drops down next to him and pulls a tidepod of of his belt giving it to Dick before continuing on.

Dick-What the fuck...

Tim having seen from a distance-What did Damian give you candy?

Dick- He gave me a tidepod.

Jason-Your shitting me Goldie.

______________

Jason-What are you eating Damian?

Damian taking a bite of a pop tart- Ravioli...

Jason-Im going fucking crazy.

Alfred-Language Master Jason.

They now text each other durning their free time, Marinette loves receiving pictures of Damian's pets and silly pictures of Damian's friend Jon. Damian loves seeing pictures of her newest designs and Paris at night.

Jon is the only person who knows about Marinette and thats because he crashed one of Damian's classes. He gushes over the fact that Damian is talking to his favorite person on Twitter, then full on fanboys a second later when she follows him back on Twitter. Soon after she becomes friends with Jon too, Lila comes back. After two weeks of fighting her she stops after both Damian and Jon point out that if her classmates were really her friends they wouldnt believe someone they just met over her. Marinette stops doing extra things for the class no more free pastries, banners, clothes or anything. She spends majority of her time on school work, her comissions and talking with Damian and Jon.

Madame Bustier at one point asks her to stay after class. She tells her she is disappointed that Marinette is distancing herself form the class so much. Marinette just tells her that she is done, that if she wants a perfect role model then she should use Lila instead and leaves. The next day she tells Madame Bustier she is stepping down as class president, everyone in the class except for Chloe and Marinette vote for Lila. Marinette has had more free time then she has had in a while and is thriving. She is able to take more and more commissions and even allows Jagged and Clara to give other celebrities access to her website. With a push from Jon she also sets up a Twitter and Instagram account under MDC Designs. With in no time everyone is trying to get an MDC original.

At one point she gets a call from Jon asking her how much it would cost for a MDC original for his mom. Marinette smiles softly telling him to just get his moms measurements for her. When he argues she finally agrees to accept payment but gives him a family discount. Jon agrees with a huff, a month later Jon sends her a video of his mom opening his gift.

Lois-Oh Jon love you know you didnt have to get me anything.

Jon-And let Connor out do me this year? No way.

Connor laughing-Oh shut it Jon!

Jon-cone on open it already mom!

Lois lauging before unwrapping the box- Is this? Jon is this a MDC box?

Connor looking at him with wide eyes.

Jon-open it and see!

Clark-So thats why you asked me for her measurements.

Lois pulls a beautiful knee length navy blue pencil dress. It had a classy V neck and flounce bell sleeves Jon is this and MDC original?

Jon-weeell if you look at the inside of the right sleeve your see her signature marking. Thats not all though mom theres another box!

Lois grabs the other box and unwraps it opening it quickly to find a pair of white lace up Oxford pumps with matching navy laces, MDC hand stitched on the back in navy.

Lois-How did you-how did you get MDC originals?

Jon laughing-I'll never tell!

Marinette saves the video on her phone and tells him he wants a photo of her in it for her website. A week later he send her pictures of his mom in the outfit posing with his dad and the next day he send pictures of her posing with Bruce Wayne on the red carpet. She quickly posts them on Instagram and Twitter tagging Lois, Clark, Bruce and Daily Planet.

'I knew Mrs. Lane would make this one of a kind outfit look beautiful! I was happy to make the dress and shoes as a surprise from her son! Mrs. Lane your son has my number, if you ever want another original talk to him! 💋'

Lois immediately responds to her tweet thank her for the amazing gift, while also asking how her son got in contact with MDC.

Marinette- ' 🤫🤫😘😘💋'

Jon-'You'll never know!!'

Lois, with her bosses approval, writes an article joking about the mystery that is MDC at also an interview where she grills her son on how he knows MDC.

Its a blows up and part of Jon's interview becomes a meme. This part;

Jon-Superman, please come save me from my mom!

Marinette being the meme godess she is decides to quote it on Twitter, but she messes up and posts it on MDC desgins.

MDC-Superman, please come save me from these deadlines!

Half an hour later

MDC-That was meant for my personal Twitter...

Now everyone is also talking about MDC memeing.

After talking with the Kwami Marinette decides to tell Damian and Jon about her time as Ladybug, and how she still goes out and patrols to stop muggers. In return one day Damian and Jon flies him and Damian to paris and they finally meet in person and they tell her their own identities. They leave Gotham at 7 am in Gotham and make it to Paris at 3 pm and wait for her outside of her parents bakery. Marinette flips out and practically tackles the both if them in a hug. She pulls them inside happily introducing her parents to her American friends. After they tell her they decide to spend the rest of the day together. Marinette also takes their measurements telling them its for a surprise. Damian tells her that his brothers are obsessed with MDC and how the wouldnt stop hounding Jon when they found out he had gotten in contact with her.

They go out and Marinette shows them Paris while Jon is slowly pushing them together. He is ecstatic when Marinette wraps one of her fingers around Damien's finger and he respond by grabbing and holding her hand. They are all immensly happy until they are passing by a park and notices her class having a party. At first she doesnt care and just shrugs it off, until the class notices them. Alya accuses Marinette of trying to start drama, she rolls her eyes telling Alya she didnt even know about the party and was just showing her friends around. Damian frowns glaring at the class when he feels Marinette hand start to shake and releases her hand wrapping an arm around her waist in support. Jon is also frowning but simply reminds Marinette that they were going out to eat. Marinette nods and begins telling them about the restaurant they were going to while leaning into Damian's side.

They turn leaving the class behind only for Adrien to hurry after them. Adrien tries to convince Marinette to return and spend time with the class saying he missed his friend. Marinette tells him that they arent friends anymore, that friends dont allow lies to be spread about their friends. She takes the boys and they finally make it to the restaurant.

Damian pays refusing to let Marinette or Jon touch the check. They spend the rest of their time at Marinette's house watching movies until they leave at 9pm wishing Marinette goodnight and making it back to Gotham at 3 pm. When they get back to the manor Bruce confronts Damian asking why he got notified that Damian's card had been used in Paris. Thats how Bruce finds out about Marinette.

Bruce- shes been teaching you memes?

Damian-yes.

Bruce-...well at least your making friends.

Damian-dont tell the others, they'll want to meet her and Id rather not be embarrassed

Bruce-I wont say anything until they catch you then.

Around the end of Marinette's junior year Lila accuses Marinette of theft and she is once again expelled. Only this time Marinette gets the school board involved and she is quickly cleared of charges. once again. However she decides not to return to the school tired of their treatment. Instead with the help of Jagged and her parents permission she enrolls at Gotham Academy and doesnt tell Damian to surprise him. Jon does know that way he could help her.

Within the week Marinette is in Gotham in her new penthouse apartment with her new gaurdian, a maid/nanny that Penny had recommended. Her name is Margaery she is in her 60s. The next day Marinette is dropped of at school by Margaery, Jon is already there early and helps her get his schedule and everything. Then they wait for Damian to arrive hiding until the see him open his locker Jon distracts him while Marinette hides behind the locker door. The school is very surprised whe. Damian smiles brightly at seeing her. Within the day she is known around the school as both Sunshine and Gotham's new Goddess.

Soon enough Damian Marinette and Jon are never seen withiut tge other except in classes. Many teachers see Marinette as a blessing classes have been calmer shes always willing to volunteer and shes even started tutoring some of the students. Even though she entered late in the year she starts to help the student council and things were more organized and running smoother. What everyone is really happy about is how she seems to bring out the teen in Damian and encourage him to act his age. The only reason they havent posted about her and Damian's relationship is because Damian made it clear he didnt want his family to know.

He starts calling her Angel and Red Bird. Marinette starts calling him Dove and Birdie. They slowly start going on dates while also making sure to hang out with Jon so he didnt feel left behind. Its the beginning of summer when Marinette gets invited to a Wayne gala by Bruce himself with a little note.

'Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would like to meet the girl that has stolen my youngest's attention. Please do not inform him I invited you, I think it will be quite the surprise for him. -Bruce Wayne

She tells Damian to wear a seafoam green tie because it will bring out his eyes, in a sly way so that they will be matching. She then makes a seafoam green Asymmetrical A-line off the shoulders dress adding layers of tulle that forms teirs and finishes with horsehair hemlines. The MDC signature is stictched on to the second layer of tulle.

The night of the Gala she is dropped off by Margaery and Jon leaves his parents to meet her. She tells him that Damian didnt know either and Bruce wanted to surprise him. Jon starts laughing causing Marinette to dissolve into giggles. This catches Jon's parents eyes and they walk over. Jon wuickly introduces her as one of his best friends. Lois and Marinette quickly hit it off and enter the gala together with Jon and Clark following behind them. After 5 minutes Damian spots them, and discreetly hurries over to them.

Damian-Angel!

Lois and Clark are surprised at the nickname and that Damian is smiling even more surprised when he hugs her and holds her hand gently. They stare into each others eyes for a moment until Lois coughs catching boths attention. Damian greets them as he lets go of Marinette's hand wrapping an arm around her waist as she does the same. They stand talking with each other until Lois spots someone she wants to interview and hurries off with Clark. The three of them share a look before all saying food at once. Jon walks ahead of them as Marinette and Damian follow talking to themselves.

M-'Your father wanted to meet me so Im afraid I will no longer be a secret.'

D-'Of course he did, I was hoping to keep those embarrassments known as my brothers away.'

This causes Marinette to laugh leaning her head on his shoulder.

M-'I am sure they arent that bad.'

They spend a good half hour talking with Jon and eating before Bruce finds them and introduces himself to Marinette. Five minutes later she notices Damian's brothers starring at them in shock. She starts giggling and points it out to Damian who groans. Soon after the boys rush over to interrogate their brother dragging him away from Marinette Jon and Bruce.

While Damian is dealing with them Jagged and Penny both find Marinette. Eventually the boys force Damian to introduce them to Marinette. She hits it off with all of them promising to visit the mansion. Jon convinces Damian to ask Marinette to be his girlfriend. He asks her to dance with him and asks while they are dancing. That night Marinette Damian and Jon leave together for an impromptu sleepover at Marinette's. Margaery picks them up greeting both parents and assuring them that there kids will be safe, and they will be camping out in the living room.

Marinette surprises the boys with handmade pjs once they get to her house and Margaery surprises them with cookies. The next day she goes to the mansion with Damian and gets to know his brothers more piecing together who is who of the Batfamily. At one point Jason insinuates that Marinette couldnt fight so she challenges his to a spar. Jason being cocky holds back and gets his butt kicked, he asks for a rematch and doesnt hold back this time, still gets his butt kicked.

While Damian and Marinette are saying goodbye she jokes about how long its going to take his siblings to realize shes a hero not a civilian. Damian finds it hilarious. When Marinette gets home she tells Margaery that she was going up to the roof to look at the stars for inspiration. Margaery allows her making her take a blanket, hor chocolate and some cookies with her. That night Nightwing lands on her roof and 'startles' causing her to throw her cup at him hitting him in the gut

Robin chuckling-That bitch empty,

Mari and Robin together-Yeet!

Marinette laughs offering him a cookie as Nightwing gets up

Nightwing-Nice throw.

Marinette laughs harder her eyes twinkling.

Mari-Sorry you startled me I must have lost track of time I should head back home now. Have a safe patrol Birdies!

She says before passing other of them leaving the plate of cookies behind for them. Over the summer Marinette and Damian visit her parents for two weeks before returning to Gotham. The rest of the summer is filled with dates between her and Damian the Gotham Gazette is having a field day with them.

They're referred to as the Goddess and the Prince and every date is talked about the next day. When summer is over Marinette Damian and Jon are back for their senior year. Marinette decides to run for student body president and Jon runs as her vice president, they both tease Damian about being the trophy boyfriend and he responds that he is fine with it as long as hes the trophy boyfriend to Marinette. Marinette and Jon win with an almost unanimous vote. It is half way through their senior year when Damian's brothers realize she knows. Bruce and Babs already know. Jason teasingly jokes about Damian outing them to a civilian and Marinette jist goes

Marinette-Jayby(This is her nickname for him), I have beaten you in spars 9 out of 10 times and you still think Im a civilian.

Tim-What?

Marinette sighs before calling Tiki out and transforming. (She has a different outfit. Period. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, held by a red ribbon. It has a completely black mask, her top was sleeveless and was a deep red. She had gloves that stopped at her elbows the same deep red but with black poka-dots. Her pants were completely black with a red belt holding her yoyo. Her outfit was finished with red combat boots with black soles.) Everyone is silent as they taken in her outfit.

Damian-God your so beautiful.

Marinette-Aw Dove

Que a sweet kiss where Jason gags jokingly before Tim flips out about her being Ladybug. Marinette jokingly says that he didnt react that way to her being MDC.

Tim-what?

Dick-This time your oulling my leg.

Marinette-You didnt know? I was always giving you guys family discounts.

Tim-Your MDC...my favorite fashion designer is my future sister-in-law. Thats why your commissions always seemed cheaper than others. Im chalant right now.

This causes Dick to burst out laughing.

Dick-Really becuase Im whelmed!

Bruce smiles slightly remembering when his eldest would use to his 'Unwords' all the time.

That night Marinette patrols with them and Gotham gains a new hero LadyBird. With a little shove from Damian and begging from Tim, Marinette begins to grow MDC even more by partnering with Wayne Enterprises. Marinette and Damian are the power couple of the school, they have majority of their classes together both being in AP and Honors classes. As the school president Marinette is notified that during the last quarter of second semester a French class is doing an exchange program at Gotham Academy.

Her and Jon have to escort them around the school the first week. Marinette argues a bit at first.

Mari-I understand that it is important but Jon and I are still heavily working on Prom, Senior's Last Peprally, Senior Awards, Senior vs Freshman Football, Prom King and Queen vote and The Senior trip.

Jon-Mari is right is there anyway we could pick someone else to show them around. There are a few other people in student council that speak French.

They both convince the Principal to allow the Secretary of the Student Council, Candy St.Cloud, to show them around. Marinette, Jon and Damian avoid them, none of Marinette's old class knows Marinette is there until votes for Prom King and Queen pops up and Marinette's name is on the ballet.

Lila bursts into tears claiming her Dami promised her she'd be on the ballet since he goes to that school. They all try to hunt her down and give her shit for booting Lila off. However majority of Gotham academy has noticed their attitude towards Gotham's Goddess and everyone makes sure Marinette is unreachable.

They pretty much only see glimpses of her until Senior's Last Peprally when she and Damian are announced Prom King and Queen. Their boos are covered up by the school's cheers. Marinette and Damian share a quick kiss which causes more cheers as the teachers roll their eyes calling out Pda. Then both her and Jon announce whats going to be happening at the peprally.

At the end of it all the seniors get together for one last class photo in the front is Jon Marinette and Damian. Damian and Marinette are wearing the sashes and crowns and Marinette is in the middle of them. Bustier's class is upset they cant be a part of the picture because they arent actually seniors at the school. The next night is Senior awards the class doesnt go but the trio does.

Marinette and Damian get best couple.

Damian gets the award for best grades.

Jon gets the award for most likely to secede in life.

That night all three are on the news and trending on Twitter when they go out to celebrate at Bat Burger, videos and pictures are posted off Marinette and Jon dying of laughter as Damian cuts his burger with a knife and fork. At the hotel Lila is crying claiming that Damian is cheating in her with Marinette. The class continuously message Marinette even when they get a response saying that the person is not Marinette amd that they've had the number for two months.

The next day at lunch they confront Marinette, they followed Jon to the room the Student council eat lunch in. Que them berating Marinette infront of everyone including the teachers. Marinette just rolls her eyes not wanting to give them the time of day.

Alya-I cant believe you tricked Lila's boyfriend into dating a bully like you!

This causes Jon to launch to her defense, he steps in front of Marinette glaring at the class.

Jon-Lila's boyfriend?? You mean Damian, so Lila was dating Damian first?

Lila-Yes! And Marinette purposely seduced him!

Jon-Really tell me when did you firat meet Damian?

Lila-oh he was so sweet! It was when we were 6 and we met at a gala here in Gotham! A older women was being incredibly mean to me and he stood up for me telling me that he'd have his dad kick her out. We were always meeting up over the summer and started dating at the beginning of senior year!

Jon-Oh so you know Arabic?

Lila-What?

Jon smirking-Well Damian didnt learn English until he was 8, his first language is English. Also you couldn't possibly have met Damian here when he was 6 because Damian didn't come to Gotham until he was 10. When his dad was informed that he had a son. On top of that Damian spends every summer with his family and closest friends. Actually he usually spends a few weeks on my family's farm, this summer he didnt because he went to Paris with Marinette. Also at the beginning of senior year? St. Cloud, when did Damian ask Marinette out.

St. Cloud- Beginning of the summer at Mr. Wayne's first charity gala of the summer, he asked her while they were dancing. It was really cute and Marinette looked amazing in her MDC dress!

Mari-Thank you St. Cloud, I could give you her number if you'd like a dress

Lila runs away embarrassed the class starring at Jon and Marinette in shock.

Alya-who-who do you think you are?!

Mari-Alya do you really not recognize your idols son?

Marinette is disappointed as she introduces them to Jon Kent, after that the teacher finally forces the French class out, while also telling them how kuch trouble they'll be in.

The class starts trying to get on Marinette's good side for the rest of the year but she ignores them. Prom comes and goes and when its finally time for graduation Damian is valedictorian. He gives a fairly inspirational speech and at the end he smirks finishing it with.

Dami-And lastly I would like to thank my eldest brother, without him Id never be able to give this sappy inspirational speech, he is really good at them.

When they throw their caps in the air Damian finds Marinette and dips her pulling her into a deep kiss.

That night while they are all celebrating at the Wayne Mansion Marinette finally lets go of Paris, she decides that her place is in Gotham with Damian.

Lets do a time skip!

Marinette is the top name in Fashion, Damian is Co-Ceo of Wayne enterprises with Tim. They are both married and living in Marinette's penthouse together with Margaery, I am to emotionally invested to kill off her or Alfred even if it is do to age. They visit the mansion almost every day, and family dinners are common.

Jon started going out with St. Cloud and are engaged, he has also taken up the mantle of Superman.

Damian has taken up the mantle of Batman with his Robin, Johnn'i Thomas Grayson-Wayne, Richard and Koriand'r's second child that did not inherit his mothers powers, and his partner Ladybird. That is until Marinette discovers she is pregnant. She surprises the family while they are getting their family portrait redone, with only Kori and the photographer knowing.

All the girls are in chairs with the boys behind them. Seating goes.

Babs, Kate, Selina, Marinette, Kori, Stephanie, and Cass. For a few of the pictures Marinette holds up a sign saying, "Another Wayne is on the way!" Then they hide the sign so they have a regular family portrait.

A few days later when the entire family is gathered to see the photos they are surprised when Bruce stars at them in shock. Alfred and Margaery merly smile offering congratulations, everyone is confused until Bruce turns the picture around.

Damian is looking at the pictures in shock until he jumps up and picks up Marinette spinning her around. Soon everyone is screaming and cheering offering congratulations. While Damian and Marinette hold each other close crying softly.

Mari-Your gonna be a Daddy Dove.

Damian-I love you so much Marinette. So much.

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