#anyways it was supposed to be ready for day 4: night + stars but alas

[mizunoir]

stargazing ⭐

happy [late] laven week!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- its been a while, I haven’t known how to carry the story forward, but recently had a burst of inspiration and wrote the next three chapters. Judging from the last chapter’s feedback, the events of this one isn’t going to be too satisfying.)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8  9  10  11  12  13

Warnings- Angst, angst and more angst

Chapter 14- Cut The Ropes And Let Me Fall

2 Months Later Filming had been through with Jackson’s yelling, “And that’s a wrap!” At the end of the last scene. The camera had stopped rolling, and wouldn’t again unless the need for re shoots arose and by the end of the week, Y/n and Keanu were carded to fly back to Los Angeles. But that wouldn’t be before a photo shoot for promotional pictures and the wrap party the night before their flights. 

By then, they’d managed to smoothen things out yet again, though, they hadn’t been left void of tension; every now and then, they’d reach a fork in the road, reminding them that things weren’t what they used to be. He’d say something a little too harsh or Y/n would get a bit too close, and for a few days, until one of them had decided that it was time to forget, they’d toe around each other, desperately avoiding any kind of serious talk. 

But, despite the awkwardness, things were surprisingly good too. The highs were higher than they used to be. Keanu had mostly forgone his suite, falling asleep next to Y/n most nights, and they would wake up tangled in each other’s embrace the next morning. It was nice, and was worth the bursts of tension, that served as tormenting punctuation.

“You look cute in this,” Keanu slowly sauntered towards Y/n in the now empty dressing room, immediately taking her in his arms, bending to nuzzle her cheek, "You should keep this blouse," he tugged on the fabric of the lace crop top, which generously boasted her cleavage, the color standing out on her skin.

"Maybe I'll ask if I can," Y/n giggled, looking at their reflections in the lengthy mirror mounted to the wall. Her manicured nails skimmed his forearms, clad in leather, leaning her head back on his shoulder. 

Quickly kissing her, Keanu let his touch invade the scalloped hem, inching upwards suggestively, "How long do we have before the shoot?" The mumbled inquisition was muffled as his ministrations traveled lower; behind her ear lobe, lower down her jaw and along the delicate column of her neck. 

"Not long enough," with wavering restraint, Y/n tried to untangle herself from Keanu's affectionate embrace. He'd still insisted on keeping their entanglement under wraps, hiding things from the press and their co workers. Of course, there'd been a few close calls; pictures taken displaying compromising positions and mummers on social media, but even then, their respective publicists had been able to spin the stories to suit their narratives. Y/n and Keanu were close, comfortable friends, who'd grown used to intimacy on set; there was nothing more between them. Each time, it had stung and Y/n couldn't help but feel like his dirty little secret during those periods. But alas, if she wanted him, she'd have to compromise. That was how relationships worked, right?

Even if what they shared was never really a relationship.

Wiggling and turning in his embrace, Y/n gently pushed on Keanu’s chest, biting half her lip as her eyes sparkled, clearly wanting things to continue, just as much as he did, “As much as I want to, we have maybe ten minutes-”

“I’m sure we can make that work,” Keanu leaned in, trying to kiss her again, “Besides, who cares if we're a little late huh? We’re the stars babygirl, they aren’t gonna start without us. Now come on,” dismissing her objecting, outstretched arms, Keanu closed the space, finding her lips in a breath-stealing, hungry kiss, already pawing as the button of her jeans.

“Is the door locked?” Breathless, Y/n spoke against her lips, smiling at how his beard scratched her face. Y/n was already in the process of finding the lapels of his jacket, ready to push it off his broad shoulders, when, answering her question instead of Keanu, was the sound of someone opening the door.

“Places in- '' Jackson stopped abruptly upon seeing them, and frazzled they instantly sprang apart. Immediately, Keanu folded his arms, backing away hastily to put some space between them while Y/n slumped against the edge of the counter, where various products had remained scattered. After months of hiding things, they’d gotten caught on their very last day on set. “I knew it!” Smirking defiantly, Jackson propped himself on the door-frame, “You two,” he pointed between them, “Are good actors, but terrible liars. Especially you,” he pointed accusingly to Keanu, who went all red in the cheeks, barely saved by his scruff covering half his face. 

“What?” Y/n croaked, her throat suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. She was fine with being discovered, but Keanu, she couldn’t tell what he’d do when they were alone. Maybe he’d decide that she wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe she should get to decide if he was worth another round of tears. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” maybe their resident mad genius wasn’t as mad and out of touch as they’d made him out to be. It was always the ones you didn’t suspect anyway. “Those little looks that you two share, the very realistic kisses. At first, I thought I’d struck a chemistry goldmine,” chuckling, Jackson shook his head, pushing up his glasses with his pointer, “But there was something about the way you hold her,” he turned to Keanu, his features softening, “I’d never seen in something,” making an elaborate gesture with his hands, Jackson searched the ceiling for the right word, “Manufactured.”

“I…..” She could tell he was flustered and uncomfortable, even from where she stood, almost two feet away. Keanu would have done everything to keep their so-called relationship in a box, away from the outside, away from something that would make it real.

Saving Keanu the trouble of having to find an excuse to deter his suspicions, Jackson's ability to be sociable left as quickly as it came, and in no time, he was back to his skittish, borderline intolerable self, “Well,” he clapped his hands dramatically, “I hope you two can keep up this momentum, it’ll be fantastic for press. We can tell the media that working together sparked your love and now, you’re inseparable, I’ll run in by the publicists,” already he was walking out of the room, expecting Y/n and Keanu to follow him, something they’d only caught up on when he’d already started down the long hall. Before they joined Jackson, Y/n tried to catch Keanu’s gaze, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he was actively avoiding her face, and that in itself was enough to tell her that he was not okay with what had gone down. 

“Your relationship is going to be a great selling point,” he continued, not caring for their objections, his mind already made up, “But anyways,” they’d just broken off onto the main floor, where things were already set up for the photo shoot, “We should get into the shoot, we’ve only got this guy for a couple hours, Gary had an emergency back home,” Jackson explained briskly, “But thankfully, Lucas here is an amazing photographer. Lucas!” Jackson snapped his fingers, beckoning over a tall, blonde figure.

When Y/n saw his face, she gasped, and she could have sworn that it was impossible for her jaw to not hit the floor. As if things couldn’t get worse. “It’s actually just…..” upon seeing her, he seemed just as shocked, though Y/n supposed that he should have had the upper hand, considering he should have known what movie he’d be doing the pictures for. “It’s just Luke,” he finished, shaking his head, looking bewildered, “Y/n.”

“Luke, you’re….” at a loss for words, Y/n couldn’t help but long for a spontaneous split in the earth to swallow her up and dump her straight into hell. At least there she wouldn’t have to deal with awkward situations with her current ‘sort of’ boyfriend and a ‘sort of ex-boyfriend’ that she’d never officially broken up with. “You’re doing the shoot?”

Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable with it as she was, “I am, Y/n-”

“Well, lady and gents,” Jackson interrupted, apparently not noting the tension, “We’ve only got this place for a few more hours, so we should get started.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keanu was the one who’d spoken, and it was the first time since he’d been cut off by Jackson in the dressing in the dressing room that he’d even opened his mouth, two words said in a tone that was perfectly u readable, “Let’s do this,” without another word, he walked off in the direction of the set up, not even offering a backwards glance.

Y/n was about to break off from the group and do the same, when, just as Jackson moved away, Luke grabbed her arm in a loose grip, “Hey,” he offered her a faltering, faint smile, “Can we talk after?” 

His eyes were pleading, though, just as Y/n was going to tell him that they could, Jackson circled back, “Oh and Lucas,” he’d already completely forgotten, or perhaps he just wasn’t listening, Luke’s clarification of his name, “Get some some good ones of the happy couple.”

“Couple?” His gaze still penetrated Y/n’s sickened expression, though his brows now falling as hope drained from his face, “Right”

“Luke-”

“You know what?” He mustered up a brave face to hide his hurt, letting go of her arm and taking two steps back, “Never mind, let’s just get this done, okay?” And when she nodded, not really knowing how to remedy anything that had happened in the past thirty minutes, he turned away, “Great.”

Great?

No, it wasn’t great. Not really.

Music throbbed in his chest and the air was ignited by a buzz fueled by freely flowing alcohol and the relaxed, carefree demeanor of the cast and crew alike. Filming was finally over, they’d put in the hard work and they'd reap the rewards in about four or five months. He should have been enjoying the party like everyone else, but Keanu just couldn't.

So, instead, he'd gone out through the back of the club, lighting a cigarette between his lips and holding a half finished beer in his free hand. Since earlier that day, when Jackson had caught him and Y/n almost in the act, his mind had been bombarded with a flurry of thoughts. He was the one that had wanted what they had hidden, while simultaneously, Keanu was also the one making it glaringly obvious. That wasn't what he wanted; Y/n was making a fool of him, and fools got hurt. 

Keanu didn't want to get hurt.

Things had only gone even further downhill during the photo shoot and Keanu could tell that it was taking everything in Luke to not take a swing at him. Keanu couldn't blame him, if the roles were reversed he might have done the same. Y/n was……..absolutely astounding. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly intelligent and had a one in a million personality. She worth punches. She was worth more than he could give. Because as hard as Keanu had tried to convince himself that they could work, he knew that he was just postponing the inevitable. He couldn't be with her forever, he wasn't the forever kind of man and her affections already ran deeper than his by far. 

He couldn't do that to her anymore.

The fun was over.

Taking a pull from his smoke, blowing out a white puff seconds later, Keanu barely turned when the heavy iron door behind him in the dark alley way dragged open with a definitive wail. He knew who it was without even looking, he could smell her perfume, clinging to her satin skin and the shimmery black, mini slip dress that she'd slid into before they left her hotel room. He'd had her in that dress, while it was bunched up over her stomach and she was pressed against the wall of the living room, just before they'd left for the party. If only Keanu had known it was the last time he'd lay hands on Y/n again, he might have savored it more.

"You've been out here for a while," he knew that she'd picked up on his pensive mood a while ago, and though he hadn't asked, and not had she told him, Keanu could tell that there was something weighing heavy on Y/n's mind.

"I wanted a cigarette," he huffed, blowing out another cloud, finally glancing her way when she came to stand beside him, staying a few inches away. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"Yeah," she chortled halfheartedly, rolling her eyes, taking a punctuating sip from her red disposable cup, "Shouldn't you?"

"I told you-"

"I heard you before," when Y/n cut him off, Keanu could sense a new malice in her voice, and growing defensive, he wondered where it came from.

"What's your problem?" He rolled his eyes, taking one last drag from the stub before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the toe of his worn brown boot.

As it seemed, Keanu wasn't the only one putting up unwarranted defenses that night, as Y/n shot back, "My problem?" Moving around so he'd be forced to look at her, Y/n licked her lips, shaking her head, "You're the one who's been icing his girlfriend out."

And just like that, just as he fired his last, shitty attempt of a defense mechanism, Keanu chuckled dryly, not even thinking as he spoke, "You're not my girlfriend." Though, the minute he caught his foot in his mouth, Keanu tried to clarify, "Fuck, that's not-"

But it was too late, it was already out there and Keanu's words had hit Y/n like a bullet to the chest, "What?" Her anger, chased with insurmountable hurt and swirling confusion flared, driving what came next, "That's not what you meant?" She mocked, trying to suppress a sniffle, "What did you mean, huh? Did you mean that I'm just some girl you're fucking cause its convenient? Or did you mean that you were still seeing were this is going, and so far, it's not going like I'm your girlfriend," she took a breath, gathering her thoughts, "Well newsflash Keanu, maybe that's a good thing, maybe I don't want to be your fucking girlfriend!"

Her words were angry, but he could see past it, the cracks in her exterior shining through to show her pain. The tears in her ears, the break in her throat. Yet still, he didn't sympathize. If they were going to be like that then it was every man for themselves. "Well maybe that's good!" He yelled, not caring if anyone would hear them over the music, "Cause this isn't working for me."

"This isn't working for you?" Y/n repeated incredulously, "It was working for today, when you wanted to fuck me over a makeup table. It was working for you when we fucked while the car was waiting for us downstairs, right before we came here. God you're so…..ugh!" Through with it, ready to just be alone with her hurt, Y/n tossed her cup at him, watching as it bounced off his chest, the alcohol soaking his front, "You know, everyone thinks you're such a nice guy, but really, you're just another asshole. No wonder you're alone."

"I-" But his argument was muted, for in just seconds, Y/n was gone through the door again, slamming it on her way in, leaving Keanu to curse at the cold air as he spun and tossed his bottle to the grimy wall, the smashing filling his ears. That was it, they were over, and on his terms too. He'd been the one to pick the fight, fan the flame. Keanu wanted that, he wanted to be done so he could move on without falling too deep. And for a while, he'd told himself it would be easy because really, he'd barely let Y/n scratch his surface. 

A breakup was what he wanted. But as he stood there, face hot and eyes stinging by surprise, Keanu couldn't quite decipher why it hurt so bad. Why his breath had gone so ragged, why tears were falling down his face. Why his heart felt like it was breaking. 

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews  @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​ @danceoftwowolves

[porcelain--roses]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐿, 𝐻𝐼 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸.

Angelique rolled her eyes, her annoyance manifesting itself in a heavy sigh that escaped her scarlet lips. 

‘Listen, Damian—’ 

 ‘Derek, ma’am,’ her assistant — and intruder — interrupted. 

 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,’ the witch gnarled. ‘Do you think it’s excusable to come disturb me about “a group of eccentric hippies passing Collinsport”, as if that weren't an everyday event?' 

She waved her hand in the air and returned to the files to which she had been tending before Derek, the moron, decided to come into her office yapping. ‘Now kindly scat. I’m in the middle of something important.’ 

 ‘Well, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 eccentric hippies seem to have decided to stay a while,' the man insisted. 'It seems they have been around the extremities of town for the last couple of days – a few RVs parked up next to each other.’

Angelique stopped in her tracks. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 in Collinsport was odd news to say the least; people barely cared about visiting the town -- why would anyone be interested in moving there? 

She finally eyed her assistant attentively, resting her chin on her clenched fist and quirking her eyebrows. 

‘𝑶𝒉? Fresh meat, yes?’ 

The young man nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. No one had ever seen them before.’

'Interesting,' Angelique muttered, nodding distractedly for a couple of seconds. ‘Well then,' she said, grinning, as she started from her seat, maybe I should pay our new neighbours a visit.’

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪�� 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩�� 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, she added in her mind.

‘I'm sure a friendly little welcome won’t hurt.’

________________

The woman sat with her face stuck in a frown, poking at the remnants of last night’s fire. 

“Another disappointment.” 

It seemed that all that Collinsport had to offer her crew was more stories and local haunts— and that goddamn smell of fish. 

Anyone who could’ve testified firsthand to the atrocities committed long ago seemed dead or forgotten. 

How very odd, Rose thought to herself.

But as she sat in the summer’s heat, a shadow appeared, coming between her and the sun. “Back so soon from the grocer, Daddy?”

His Shine was a bit more powerful today, she thought. But of course, everyone had their good days... even her. 

Curious to the occasion, she looked up. “𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍... 𝑯𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.”

________________

"𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺?" 

The blonde gave out a low chuckle. That wasn't exactly the way to which she was used to introduce herself. 

 'I'm afraid 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 hasn't really come from the grocer,' the witch mocked, her eyes fixed on the mysterious figure. 

She came closer. The brown-haired woman was hauntingly beautiful, and the eyes beneath the obnoxious hat, the bluest she had ever seen.

𝑰 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆, she thought. 

 'I'm sure you've mistaken me for someone else.' She offered the woman her hand. 'Angelique Bouchard. 𝘐 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.'

________________

Rose laughed at her mocking banter, nipping at her bottom lip as the woman introduced herself. 

With Bouchard’s hand graciously extended, Rose made a bold decision to 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆— instead, using her own weight. And once standing, she took in the figure standing before her. 

Bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and of course— a pinstriped suit that plunged further than most would dare to look. Of course, Rose did. She admired a power-suit... that is, one accompanied by an equally powerful woman. 

Yes, Bouchard seemed up to par for the task. 

 “So you’re in charge of this little haunt? I do hope you haven’t received any complaints, 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔(?) Bouchard. Me and my 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 were just curious to the stories of this place.” 

Surely the woman emanating Shine like an exploding star could tell her a story or two.

________________

The stranger's refusal to take her hand astounded Angelique, but she could not deny that the irreverence amused her. 

She retreated her palm, eyeing the other woman from head to toe. 4

'That I am,' she responded. 'But I must admit I know nothing of these "stories" you mention.'

She hoped the deceitful tone of her words would pass unheeded. 

'Anyway, I stopped by to bid you welcome, really.' A devilishly beautiful but menacing smile crept upon her lips as the blonde reached out to gently touch the other woman's arm.

Angie knew of her power of persuasion, and she liked to make the most out of it. She loved to see people giving in to her charms; which, of course the blue-eyed stranger would, too. 

𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆? 

'I'm afraid I haven't got your name.' 

“That’s because I never gave it, ” was Rose’s most casual reply, placing her own hand atop Angelique’s. 

With a polite squeeze, she wiped it off, eyes penetrating the blonde as if she were her next meal. “But if you’re so keen to welcome me to your humble town, I suppose you could ask me over dinner.” 

 A chance to spend some time alone with her next victim? Oh, Rose could hardly contain herself. So very rarely did they waltz up to her like this. 

Not since 1852.  

Angelique quirked an eyebrow, eyed the mysterious woman from head to toe, and scoffed amusedly. 

The stranger’s petulance was rather entertaining. 

‘Dinner,’ she muttered. ‘Well, why not? Seven o’clock tonight at my place, shall we?’ She smiled stiffly.

The witch either had too much to lose or nothing at all, but the latter option seemed more like it. After all, Angie couldn’t possibly come across anyone half as powerful and menacing as her, right?

The tilt of Rose’s head seemed wholly amused ( or somewhat flattered ) by the woman’s gesture. More-so by the permanent smile resting upon her newfound companion’s face. 

“Should I assume we are dining alone, Miss Bouchard?” 

That didn’t seem mildly suspicious at all.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sights of the others. True Knot’s most devoted member (besides herself), Crow Daddy, stood in front of the rest. 

Ignoring him, Rose returned to Angelique— grin partly interrupted by a newfound look of worry. 

Had they noticed too?

The blonde took a small step back when she noticed the eerie figures surrounding her and her new acquaintance. They did not look friendly — but Angie was never one to back down.

Especially not from newcomers in 𝑯𝑬𝑹 town.

Tilting her chin up, she shook the feeling of threat off, but the pearly smile was gone from her lips. 

‘Unless you’d like your friends to join us,’ she purred as she glanced back at the brunette. ‘I suppose that’s... 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚?’ she taunted, eyeing the man who led the others.

Rose 𝒅𝒊𝒅 feel a tinge if embarrassment at the nickname she deemed her... 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓— as evident by the widening of her eyes as it escaped those pillowy lips. 

“I’m sure I could escape them for a few hours,” she said, stepping forward to return the distance that had previously been between them. 

“In fact— I would request that you 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕 that much, Miss Bouchard. I might dread any one of them 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 you from me.”

Especially if they had already detected her Shine. 

But a grin had returned to her face, trying to save the moment with a final burst of charm. 

“What do you say? Would you have me all to yourself?”

Angie easily recognised the tinge of flirt in the woman's words, but remained unfazed — even though on the inside she was savouring every bit of it. 

She bobbed her head:— 'I think some 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒚 would do us good, yes.' A side smirk crept on her lips in spite of her wishes.

And speaking of privacy, the witch had no desire to let the meddling, ill-looking people around them know her address, and so she stepped closer to the stranger, leaned into her ear, and whispered slowly, 

'My house is the only mansion in town. You shouldn't have much trouble finding it -- but if you do, just ask around for what was formerly known as the 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔 residence.' 

 And then she simply walked away, not a single glance back. 

________________

The way she walked away was with such confidence... it was hard to dismiss the small swing in her hips. 

Yes, the blonde was certainly proud of herself, wasn’t she? Alas, there was no time to dwell on that, as her posse soon accompanied her. 

 “Who was that?” 

“An acquaintance,” Rose replied in a rather innocent lilt. It was hardly a lie, that was for sure. 

“She seemed full of 𝒊𝒕...” 

 “Hush, Crow.”

Unfortunately, her dark-haired companion didn’t take so kindly to this, taking Rose to the side and grasping her hand as if it was a threat. 

( Even Grandpa Flick seemed to kiss his teeth in disapproval. ) 

“You’re not holding out on us, are you Rosie?” 

“Of 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 not. You think I’d let all of us starve for some city bitch in high heels? I want to know if there are more of them here.” 

He didn’t seem wholly satisfied with her answer, but it didn’t matter. Rose jerked her hand from his, stomping off to her RV. 

“𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆...” 

“I’ll drain that damn Shine from her fighting corpse when the time is right, but not before I get the information that 𝑰 want.” 

The door slammed behind her, rushing to the sink to wash her face. After all, the Irish Rose would need to present her best side tonight. She’d need to be ready for whatever the evening brought. 

And since it seemed like it would be a rather formal dinner, it was eventually decided that she could ditch her overtly Bohemian style for one night.

Searching her small closet, she fingered through every skirt until she reached a deep blue suit with a satin collar. 

“Power suits,” she mumbled to herself. 

“I do wonder if Miss Bouchard is accustomed to being the 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 big fish in her little pond. Such a  𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 little thing... but a damn good waste.”

________________ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༄

[iwritethat]

Dick Grayson: UnreQUITed

Request: i was wondering if maybe you can make a Reader x Dick Grayson where Reader is in love with Dick but Dick is in love with Barbara ?? thanks!!

A/N: When you attempt Angst for the first time and it’s just ... I tried but I need the practice.

>>>>——————————>

~ Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~

You wanted to quit.

Oh how you did.

Being in this situation was hopeless, it wrenched your heart from your chest every time he said it.

"I love you.”

Yes, it hurt like a thousand needles piercing your internal organs and he had no idea, which is why he continued to utter those words in your presence.

Your eyes glossed over when Dick Grayson's unmissable voice rang through your ears with those very words. He was your best friend, you loved him but he didn't love you - he loved her.

"Thanks Babs, I love you so much~"

There it is again, and your face fell into your hands with regret.

"Uh, (Y/n) what's wrong?" The handsome man you'd unintentionally fallen for called to you, genuine worry in his tone. Maybe it made the situation worse that he actually cared for you undeniably.

"Blergh, all this lovey dovey stuff is making me sick. Can you two quit it?" You laughed, over the months you'd made it convincing even to your best friend. He had no idea, if he wasn't so wrapped up in Barbara Gordon then he'd see right through it, alas can they quit their relationship too? No. You want him to be happy deep down.

"Yo (Y/n), sorry to drag you away from your little Dickiebird but I want your help!" Jason hollered, tapping his gun on the table you were sitting at rather sadly.

"Shut up Jason." You shoved past him, knocking your shoulder with his as a display of your anger. Dick gave his 'brother' a suspicious look and Jason shrugged but his sympathetic gaze followed you out.

It was on your way to the mission that the Red Hood spoke to you again, this time stating something he'd reluctantly acknowledged long ago.

"You still love him don't you?"

"Pffft love is stupid, who would I love?"

"Don't play dumb with me (Y/n), I know you better than that."

"It doesn't matter anyway, he loves her. And that sucks because she's perfect - I can't hold a candle to her Jay, I'm nothing and she's his sun, moon and stars... I'm...ah..." Tears involuntarily slipped from your lashes as you began a rant you never wanted to delve into and you were wiping them away as quickly as they appeared.

"Hey, don't do that - I've never seen you do that. C'mon (Y/n) I'd choose you over Babs any day." Jason attempted to comfort you, his words were sincere but he could see in your eyes you were head over heels for his brother.

You shook yourself out of it, like taking off a mask and you were once again determined to end this drug ring like putting up a facade. A strong trait that many admired, it even still left Jason in awe as you went in full force.

The mission was going smoothly up until the last cheerful voice you wanted to hear echoed into your earpiece.

"Hi (Y/n) it's Barbara!"

"Great." You scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I know you hate being interrupted during a mission and for that I'm sorry but Dick wants to talk to you." She was so polite to you, if anything she considered you a friend and honestly you could never hate her despite your hearts longing desires.

"Alright, tell him to make it quick." You chuckled lightly, a smile automatically appearing as soon as you heard his scuffling and it only widened further once being exposed to his voice.

"Hey gorgeous, you know you're my second favourite person in the universe..." Second, like always, you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces.

"Heh what do you want this time Dickiebird?" Your tone was kind but held an underlying sadness you couldn't quite explain.

"Damian got grounded and will only accept you as a suitable 'sitter' since I'm busy. Would you cover for me tonight?" The eldest sibling pleaded, and you condemned yourself for never being able to refuse him.

It's like your mind went blank as soon as he'd ask anything of you and you'd agree on instinct, you’d die for that man if he so much as needed it and it killed you to think like that.

"Of course, anything for you."

"Thank you (Y/n), and thanks for calling them babe now we should get ready." As soon as you'd heard that you ripped your earpiece out and squeezed your eyes closed to prevent further tears from falling. You had a mission, screw your heart.

By the time you were reunited with your partner in crime, you had been gifted with an idea.

"You were a little ruthless, are you-"

"Please let me join the Outlaws!"

"Woah woah, what are you talking about?"

"I quit Red! I can't do this anymore, I can't be around him and since you travel around the world as mercenaries I want to go with you. I want to disappear because it hurts every time I see them! Please, I need to go!" You were broken and any sane person could tell, your voice didn't hold its usual charisma and kindness, it sounded hopeless and lost.

All because of unrequited love.

Now Jason would love for you to join the Outlaws, to travel with you wherever he went; to have you by his side unconditionally - but he knew Dick would never forgive for him for it. Dick needed you around and for Jason to sweep you away like he wanted to would kill his older sibling, you two had an unbreakable bond but it was unknowingly tearing you apart.

"I can't do that, you belong here idiot. Nightwing, Gotham, and all your friends are here too." Jason nudged your shoulder but as soon as you heard his decline that was all you focused on.

That night you didn't travel back with Red Hood, you made your own way home and when questioned on your whereabouts Jason could only shrug since comm link was down. By the time you'd returned to your apartment you began packing.

Only necessities were included. Midway through your exploit, your phone viciously vibrated again and guess who it was? Dick Grayson, calling you for what seemed to be the hundredth time since you left Jason - you didn't answer.

You couldn't answer in fear of breaking down and telling him exactly what you were doing and if you did that, no doubt he'd sabotage your plans with his shining crystalline irises and hopeful smile that controlled your very willpower. You wanted to cry but instead threw your phone over to the couch in irritation and to get it as far away from you as possible to ensure you didn't pick up.

In the next instance, you had a vigilante busting through your bedroom window and you swore if it was Jason you were going to murder him. Instinctively you accumulated one of the many weapons at your disposal and aimed at the intruder with a glare.

"Why didn't you answer?!" Was all that left his mouth and you'd recognise the vibrant sapphire V anywhere. Nightwing had dropped by.

"I didn't feel like talking Dick."

"Ouch, what's up? Are you alright, let me help I'll-" He was caring, as he always was, he was at your beckoned call if you ever needed anything. But you weren't as high on his priority list as Barbara was.

"I'm fine. Just startled, like you are when someone barges into your room." You cut him short almost too quickly, monotonous with a tinge of anger present.

"Right... Oh are you going somewhere?" The hero removed his mask, inspecting the bag you were currently filling with clothes rather curiously. He reminded you of a cute puppy wondering where their owner was going.

"Yeah, I'm taking a weekend mission away from Gotham. The city crime is tiring y'know." You responded with a smile.

Dick nodded in acknowledgement, getting up to get goodness knows what.

"Here, you better take this then. For good luck!" The male practically sang, handing you an old forgotten photo of you both.

You were smiling, this was back when you first ran into him. He had an arm around your waist to pull you into him in order to take a selfie with a Polaroid camera.

You kept it, the squiggles on the back displaying 'To my one and only. ~ Love your Best Friend.'

It was before he and Barbara starting dating and honestly they were probably the best times of your life.

In fact you're pretty sure you still had that camera stashed away and soon found it in the depths of your cupboard. Dick came over to investigate but could only smirk at your actions.

You held the camera out in front of you, angling it so that it included both of you.

"Smile pretty boy, for old times sake." You smirked, Dick complied, cheesiest grin plastered on his face almost mockingly playful.

Soon after a flash, it printed out the Polaroid and you shook it before viewing.

"Hm, I like that one." The ravenette chuckled, yourself nodding agreement.

Dick quickly returned to his Nightwing alias, replacing his mask and heading for the window frame. Before he could leave, your arms tightly encircled his torso from behind, thankfully shielding your watery eyes from his view.

"Thank for everything, I love you so much Dick Grayson and I want you to remember that." You muttered sorrowfully.

You felt your friend sigh, one hand interlocking with one of yours that wrap around his abdomen.

"I love you too (Y/n), you better not forget that either now I gotta go save the city." He was cheerful and upbeat and for a second you forgot about the circumstances because he loved you. For once it wasn't her.

After your so called hero left on patrol, you zipped up your bag and were yet again interrupted by Damian - or Robin.

"You're leaving aren't you?" It was a statement rather than a question, one that lead you to believe Damian was around longer than a few seconds and probably heard most of your conversation with his elder brother.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded? I was literally on my way to the Manor."

"...I'll keep your secret if you keep mine (L/n)." You offered a sympathetic smile at the boys words, Damian radiated unease - he didn't want you to go.

"Deal. Now get over here!" You beckoned him in and allowed him to embrace you into a tight hug, one that was the equivalent of a silent but meaningful goodbye to him.

"Please stay, I can help you avoid them."

"That's impossible and you know it. I couldn't avoid Grayson if I'm here and besides he has someone better. Barbara is a hero, she's good and I'm an ex assassin - she's everything I'm not. Dick needed to save me, and she was all he wanted from the start." You mournfully explained.

"You're the best assassin I know, Gordon has got nothing on you. Trust me, I wish Grayson had seen that. Gordon is brilliant... but I'd want you as my sibling in law." Damian nonchalantly commented, like it meant nothing at all.

You nodded in acceptance, Damian heading for the exit and disappearing into the night after waving goodbye for good.

~~~

A month had passed and Dick Grayson was pacing the Batcave pulsating with discomfort.

"Where is (Y/n)?! They should be back by now!"

New number and no contact, you knew exactly how to erase your tracks. They were never finding you, you couldn't let that happen. You quit.

"Don't you get it Dick?! They're gone - (Y/n) isn't coming back. They're untraceable, off the radar I can't even track them down. I should've said yes. Damnit!" Jason responded, running a hand through his hair out of stress.

"That's ridiculous, they wouldn't do that to me. There's no reason to." Denial.

"It was because they love you!" Damian hissed from the stairway, fed up with his brother being so oblivious, he was glaring with strong rage emitting from his smaller stature.

"What?"

"(Y/N) WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

Dick froze and before anyone could stop him, he'd raced to your apartment in record time but with no response from knocking, decided to break in. However, his hopes were relentlessly stripped away with his discovery, a camera and polaroid lay on your coffee table - all other traces of you long gone.

It was the one from the last time he saw you, in your apartment packing a bag for a “weekend mission”. Those were you exact words, and god he missed your voice, he missed everything. Carefully he picked it up, flipping the image to find your signature font.

'To my one and only, forgive me for never saying Goodbye but it hurt too much to do so. I love you remember. ~ Your Best Friend.'

[hoochy-coo]

Give us your take on reputation vs 1989.

MUSIC

1989: The singles were amazing with tons of radio appeal (with the exception of ‘Shake it Off’ and ‘Bad Blood’) but still remained memorable with witty lyricism. However, the album as a whole is very ‘meh’ to me - a couple of the b-sides are top-notch with serious replay value (I Know Places, Clean, Wonderland, New Romantic), and others are either juvenile or forgettable fillers (This Love, How You Get The Girls, All You Had To Do Was Stay, I Wish You Would). The highs are very high and the lows may as well be scrubbed from her discog lol

Reputation: Poor single choices with the exception of ‘End Game’ because while it may have not even be close to the best song on the album, it’s a goldmine of commercial success with both Future and Ed Sheeran as features. THE experimental album of her discog so far and the b-sides deserve more love. An interesting listen for a fan that’s been around from the beginning because it marks a point of musical evolvement (that we later saw regress with ‘ME!). Even if you don’t enjoy the music, you can find aspects of it to be intrigued by, such as torch-inspired vocals on ‘Don’t Blame Me’ or the full EDM explosion on ‘I Did Something Bad.’ 

Verdict: 1989 wins for singles and highlights but Reputation wins as an album.

VISUALS

1989: I don’t think anyone can deny the superiority that is the visuals of this era. The music video ‘Blank Space’ was glamorous but nevertheless, a satirical take on stereotypical aspects of modern music videos for female pop artists. Taylor was glammed up like a movie star but a screaming, crying mess which really captures the core message of the song. ‘Bad Blood’ was an epic concept in theory and executed well imo, however the actual song was written as a diss to another woman so the feminism marketing/message became pointless. ‘Style’ was a flop of a music video and a massive waste of the song since it’s such an underrated bop. ‘Wildest Dream’ was basically a mini Hollywood movie. ‘Out of the Woods’ didn’t even warrant a music video but she’s extra so she gave it to us anyway. Overall, we were flooded with content and they were all quality. 

Reputation: Let me start this off by saying that I detest LWYMMD as a song but visually, it was um...amazing. She also kept with the theme of ‘humbling’ herself that we saw with ‘Blank Space’ by poking fun at her own image with all the snake symbolism and adding a line-up of Taylor from each eras to the end of the music video, while also attacking Kim K with that ‘receipts’ jab. Petty? Yes. Entertaining? 100%. ‘...Ready For It?’ was a cringe-fest (we had Taylor trying to act tough for 3-4 mins) and I like to pretend it never happened. ‘Delicate’ was ok but nothing special - the dancing was quirky but that’s about it. The music video for ‘End Game,’  just like the actual song, is overlooked by the fandom. It’s a fun music video of her partying with her friends, she’s drinking and dancing seductively with the girls without doing too much (ala LWYMMD). She actually looked comfortable doing the choreo in the video, which proved to me that she could have pulled off a sleek, alluring era but shot herself in the foot by starting it off with a very aggressive brand of sexy.

Verdict: 1989 wins, obviously.

STYLE

1989: We get it, this is her 80s era but did we have to suffer through that much embellishments, sparkles, metallic skirts and glittery cropped bomber jackets? Everything looked cheap, like she sent her stylists to a local craft store and asked them to superglue gemstones onto clothes she got from Target. Also, the tour costumes have no correlation to the style she presented in any of the music videos from that era?! Justice to that matching-plaid set she wore on tour though!

Reputation: Throw the rainbow Atlantic City-inspired halter dress out and we had an era full of excellent styling. Taylor gave us strong shoulders, sleek silhouette, and a bunch of different texture to keep the outfits interesting despite most of it being black. The tailoring was impeccable, all the pieces looked like they fit her to perfection and it was sexy but in the most tasteful way. I despised her hair during this era but the fashion was so great that I overlook it. Also, I can’t believe I’m saying this but can we get Taylor in more Balmain?

Verdict: Reputation wins. The bejeweled rompers from the 1989 tour need to be set on fire.

PROMO

1989: Taylor was insufferable during this era, and whenever we had enough and tried to look the other way, she was there too. She didn’t give us a chance to have a break from her and constantly bombarded us with her cats, her pap runs, her faux girl squad, and the constant reminder that ‘GUYS, THIS SONG IS ABOUT HARRY STYLES.’ I don’t think we had one day without at least two headlines about Taylor, whether it’s about which new friend she just initiated into her squad or which colour she painted her nails. It was so extra, so contrived, and at the time, I thought it was never going to end lmao. With that being said, this era showed us just exactly how far Taylor was willing to go for that Grammy. This era also cemented her as one of the biggest pop stars to have emerged from our generation and grant her a pass for eternal relevancy in pop culture. And then everything fell apart when the gp got a bad case of Taylor fatigue lol. Either way, we’re probably not going to get another pop era that big or impactful for a very long time so we should appreciate the gradeur of it all.

Reputation: This was supposed to be her triumphant comeback. She’s back to drag KimYe and “own” her snake image. She revolved a whole era around vengeance but she gave such mix messages - half the time she was still pointing the fingers at her enemies and the other half was spent making excuses. It didn’t come off as an authentic era of her evolving or letting things go. Literally, nothing went to plan. LWYMMD flopped (by her standards, especially as a follow up to 1989 anyway) and album sales were a disappointment to her and her team. Did Taylor even promote this era much? She went on a few late-night shows, performed at iHeartRadio and some award events but that’s all I remember. I’ve said this gazillion times before and I’ll say it again, the biggest issue with the promo is that she picked the wrong singles to send to radio. It’s her sexy era, she had about 4-5 mature track on the album and decided to not promote any of them. It didn’t make sense. However, I’ll give credit where credit is due - the rollout for LWYMMD was very smart (wiping her IG clean and posting that 10 secs clip of a snake slithering around) and it got the internet very hyped so kudos for the single. If only the song was quality...

Verdict: 1989 reigns supreme over every era. This isn’t even up for discussion

In conclusion, 1989 is the better era and inarguably, the more memorable one but I prefer Reputation music-wise. 1989, as an album, has little replay value to me. Whether it’s because her music was everywhere the year the album dropped so I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime or because I can’t stand ‘Welcome to New York,’ I’m not sure.  In a twisted, these two eras share one thing in common: inauthenticity (although in a completely different way). Reputation was like one big warped apology tour where Taylor was “sorry but not sorry.” It was her chance to tell her side of the story after the public ‘cancelled’ her but her petty need to have the last word on all the beef and drama made this era a hard sell. 1989, of course, was inauthentic in a sense that Taylor basically bent herself out of shape to find her most marketable self.