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phantomenby · 3 years ago

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Fearing the future

Could I have poly! Lost Boys with a GN! Reader who can predict the future? A polt of Y/N saving Marko + the others by not getting hurt by the Frog Brothers? That's when they kinda reveal their powers?

Mhm! Here you are <3

"Something on your mind dear?"

You turned to David, his eyes were reaching towards yours, the cold blue hue of his irises filled with concern as his hand on your hip squeezed softly.

He had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. Nothing got by your sweet David. For the past week, you had been in a daze, something weighing on your mind that you couldn't explain. It was something in relation to the gift you were hiding from them, but you yourself couldn't explain it.

Each day when they left you to retire to their home you sought out the pressure building in the front of your mind. Each time you were left even more disorientated and the pit in your chest grew.

It wouldn't clear, visions could be testy but this one was hiding from you, even when you pushed through the fog you were met with only small snippets that had been difficult to piece together.

Flashes of golden hair, screaming, golden eyes burning into yours as you held a body to your chest.

You had wanted to say something to your boys, wanting to confide in them. But you remembered the last time you had told someone of your unique ability, a month in a psych ward had prevented you from being open about it again, even after you moved out to live alone and away from your parent's scorn.

"No, I'm fine." He didn't believe you.

You were like an enigma to him, even when he was able to reach into your mind he was met with things so unfamiliar to him, things nothing could explain. They had assumed your imagination was hyperactive, your daydreaming occurred often when you were relaxing in their arms, so they never pushed knowing how delicate you could be.

He was leading you to where the boys were parked, having released Star into the crowd with Laddie so they could watch the new attraction, a half-naked jazz man with pants so tight little was left to the imagination.

When you arrived you were swiftly pulled into the arms of Marko, your sweet cherub. His cool forehead pressed to yours as he breathed you in before burying his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer, burrowing his nose into his shoulder as his lips ran along your neck and his other hand dug into your waist.

"Mmm, missed you," giggling you pressed a chaste kiss to his neck, relaxing in his arms as his chest let out a slow rumble, feeling Dwayne coming to your side and pressing his lips to your hair.

"I saw you two days ago-"

"Too long bambino," you couldn't help but agree with the brunette who had pressed his bare chest against your shoulder, nose buried in your scalp and running across it. It was a rare thing that you didn't see them every day, the last time it had happened you had left town for a week at the beginning of your relationship over a year ago. When you had returned to Santa Carla after your brother's wedding you were met with four very possessive men refusing to let you go, rubbing against you like cats.

"What have we got planned for tonight my loves?"

After the night that had just passed, you were more than happy to lay down in your own bed, pressing your face into the cool pillow to soothe your burning cheeks.

They had taken you around the boardwalk until Star was back with the young child who had come to see you as a parent figure, embracing the girl also who had talked to you about visiting the art store for her, wanting to make some new jewelry. You had happily agreed to do so, knowing how lonely it must get being the only girl surrounded by so many boys.

After she and Laddie had returned home the five of you had gone to the cliffs, Marko insisting on showing you a sweet stargazing spot he had found the night earlier when he was trying a new strain with Paul.

It was perfect, exhausting, but perfect. You had forgotten how much better you felt when you were around them, like a piece of a puzzle fitting perfectly into place, or a cog the machine of your relationship couldn't work without.

Now you had something else to do.

Once you had showered you began running the bath, filling it with lukewarm water and staying in only your dressing gown. In hope of rejuvenating yourself, you made a mug of strong overpowering coffee, needing the boost to keep you going for as long as possible.

When the water reached an inch or so below the rim of the tub you shed the gown and climbed in, wrapping the silk blindfold around your head and tying it tight at the back, finishing the ritual by plugging your ears and leaning back to let the water embrace you.

The familiar feeling encompassed your mind and you felt your heart slow, the thumping rhythm calming as blood rushed to your head.

Laughter

Familiar cackles from a languid blonde male who was throwing his head back as he raced his packmates, mocking the human who was trying to keep up with them.

"Come on Michael!"

Emerald eyes, golden curls, a devilish grin.

Marko.

It was your boys, all for of them, smiling like predators as they led the curly-haired brunette from earlier to their home. Taunting him as they weaved across the beach.

The scene moved, pulling you to the woods, feeling wind slap your face as bikes flew past you, watching your boyfriends propel themselves ahead uncaring of the dangerously unstable ground they were riding along.

A cliffside. The bluff.

A punch was thrown and three pairs of hands reached to hold back a figure.

White hair, a cheek unbruised from the hit. A smile that could haunt hell.

"How far are you willing to go Michael?"

Water burned your lungs as your body was propelled upwards, choking on the liquid as you leaned over the edge of the tub, heaving in pain as you tried to breathe.

When you finally calmed down you pressed your head to the side of the tub, cooling yourself, trying to process what you had seen.

"Holy shit..."

It was the first time you had seen something clear all week, so vivid the decision leading to such a situation was guaranteed. The events were to happen soon.

Thinking on it you decided to go for another round, draining the tub which was now tinged pink with blood that had poured from your nose. Repeating the ritual and lowering yourself in the slightly colder water, taking a deep breath and descending into another vision.

"How are those maggots, Michael?"

"What-?"

You tried not to gag as the brunette boy spat out the larvae onto the ground, turning away as they squirmed on the floor. When you looked back there was nothing there besides rice.

God...

This was even more disorientating than before. Everything was moving too quickly and it was then you realized you were becoming weakened as the vision went on. But you would persist. You had to.

"Drink Michael. Become one of us."

There it was. That odd bejeweled bottle you had seen before, one you had never been offered but always spotted shining in the cabinet beneath the wall of keys on the far end of the cave.

The boy grasped the bottle, feeling Star pressed up behind him, fear shining in her large doe eyes.

The room spun.

"-its blood."

Michael merely scoffed, taking a large swig and swallowing the cursed ambrosia, unknowingly changing his life forever.

The scene moved again, making you sway, something that shouldn't be possible in your astral form.

It was daytime now, the sun was shining through the holes in the ceiling of the cave and through the entranceway.

Four boys, Michael, and his curly-haired brother, two others you knew from the comic book store. Frogs.

They were dressed like soldiers, carrying flasks, knives, and wooden stakes..?

The pair jested, jumping around the cave in wonder, running over to Star and threatening her, making a lump form in your throat.

Why was this happening?

Michael stepped in, his screaming muffled as he fought to keep upright, leaning heavily on his smaller brother. Something was wrong with him, some sickness showing on the way his skin was flushed and pale.

You hadn't noticed the boys running to the small passageway, climbing through. The vision took you there, showing you the strange sight of your boys, your beloveds hanging there. It was inhuman, unnatural.

But you were unable to dwell on it for long, noticing how the two Frogs had the wooden weapons in their hands, the one with a red bandanna wrapped around his head stood in front of Marko.

His arm raised, shouting something your ears zoned out.

Your body lurched, your physical form gasping for breath. You refused to let go, eyes wide and your throat constricted.

His arm thrust forward, piercing your lover through his chest, sending glistening blood down below-

"NO!"

You had hardly slept, too anxious and scared. Your boys wouldn't return til the sun had set. Now you understood why.

So you sat in your bed, hair still drying from the bath and in a clean set of pajamas, stomach rumbling but being ignored in favor of watching the sun move across the sky.

An hour passed.

Then another.

And another, until the sky was finally dimming, now sporting pink and orange hues as the fiery light sunk below the horizon.

You hoped they would come. Hoped they would sense something amiss and seek you out. No matter how scary it would be you needed to do this, needed to confront them.

The sun had long since set, the stars sparkling above you. You counted them until you were bored, then you began finding constellations. Chewing on your lip you leant against the glass, eyes becoming teary and exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders.

They never came, the day now over and the night now passing much quicker. Letting your eyes slip closed you curled into a ball, keeping your window open just a little and burying yourself into the thick quilt you had brought with you. Darkness encompassed you, pulling you into darker dreams.

"Kitten.."

Someone was pulling on your shoulder, and you whined, pulling away as you tried to get back to sleep.

"Now little one come on."

The voice was urgent, familiar, and anxious.

Another hand grabbed your face, wiping away dried blood which had caked on your cheek, sliding down from your nose.

"Baby please...wake up"

The voices were becoming disjointed, trying to breach your consciousness.

A cold body climbed beside you, hands weaved into your hair and tugged, your only response was to lean closer and breath deeply.

"My love..."

Your eyes cracked open, meeting a chest covered with a mesh shirt. Paul.

"Little dove, where were you?" long fingers lifted your chin, bringing your blood-soaked face up to meet their own, pressing a thumb to your lips and against your teeth to ground you.

"Pup..." David warned from your other side, eyes boring into yours, a dangerous glare flashing behind concern, "why weren't you out tonight?"

You didn't answer, wrapping your arms around the pale blonde and tugging him towards you, burying your face into his stomach and taking panicked breaths.

Marko joined the three of you, shushing you and running his fingers through your hair and he kissed your jaw, licking away the red softly.

They stayed like that, soothing you and trying to bring you back to them, something had hurt you. Something they would put a stop to no matter what. Nothing was allowed to cause such fear in their mate.

"Little lamb," Dwayne was kneeling on the floor, meeting your tear-filled eyes as you pulled away from David slightly, "tell us, please."

His eyes were begging, his words pleading, taking a deep breath you began to speak, words cutting through sobs.

"Y-you-" Paul pressed his palm to your back, rubbing up and down against your spine, pushing you to breathe slowly.

Your next words made him freeze. Made them all stop still as they looked at you with grave concern.

"You, you d-died."

It pained you to say it, burned your throat as the words were forced out. Watching them in your vision, slowly one by one being taken out, each death painful and the images of your dear boys being reduced to nothing.

"Kitten..." You didn't meet Marko's eyes, still staring into Dwayne's as they glazed over, fear seizing your chest, "what do you mean we died?"

Once you had calmed down, after much reassuring that they weren't angry with you and soft touches from each of them, you were now curled on Markos lap after having latched onto him.

Your face was buried in his shoulder, knees pulled to your chest as his arms held you close, fingers running along your body like he was scared you would disappear any moment.

"Your visions, they aren't permanent?" It was the wrong word to use, but you knew what David meant. Can they be changed? Can we stop our deaths?

It was possible, decisions could sway, and fates were never truly decided.

Nodding you reached a hand out, grasping his cool ones which were bare, having removed his leather gloves once the feeling of them on his skin became irritable.

"The future can change, you just need to choose a different path, Michael-" you watched them all twitch, now less happy about their new brother, "he's involved, you need to talk to him."

Paul scoffed, "about what?"

Shuffling slightly to meet his gaze, feeling Marko's arms tighten around you, "about everything. You tricked him right? That's why he hates you, he loves Star and she was tricked too. They need to understand you're not in control. Maybe even..."

You trailed off but they knew what you were insinuating, there was one common denominator that led to everyone's suffering and destruction. Max.

The video store owner, a towering man who was odd and leery. He was the head, he had control, he was pulling the strings. The boys died because they thought they were in control, if they knew the truth you were sure they wouldn't attack your mates and the Frogs could be swayed.

"If we do this. If we kill him. There's no turning back."

Talking to Michael and Star wasn't easy, both struggling through their hunger and the former enraged by the boy's and Star's deceit. But he agreed to help, agreed to form an alliance. His humanity, Star's humanity, Laddie's humanity. All in return for the death of the sire and the safety of your boys.

The Frogs would be difficult, but they could be useful. Sam was close enough to the isolated pair that you were sure they would be happy to help.

Once they were in the cave, and no longer shouting profanities at the boys, a plan was formed.

"So...garlic really doesn't work?" Alan's lip was lifted in a grimace, watching the tall wild-haired blonde ripping through the large slice of cheesy garlic bread like a man starved, shuddering at his sharp grin.

"No, actually it's one of our favorites," Dwayne shrugged, Laddie leaning against him half asleep, enjoying what would most likely be one of their final moments together, "holy water does, we'll need to stock up on that, and I'm sure the old Emerson has enough wood to make stakes. We can trap him."

They all turned to David who had returned with Michael and Marko after scouting the Emerson home, learning the layout.

"When?"

David's mouth stretched, eyes glowing a fiery amber, "tomorrow."

Today was the day. Everything had been planned meticulously, even Lucy and Gramps were in on it.

The Emerson matriarch would return with Max from their date, lure him into the house under the pretense of a nightcap, then he would be trapped, and the boys would kill their sire and end their torment.

"It'll be ok love," David was holding your hand as you and the boys hid in one of the upstairs bedrooms, based on the soft bedding and dried flowers decorating the small space you assumed it was the mother's. His nose was pressed against your neck, listening to your racing heart, fluttering anxiously in your chest.

You nodded, "I know, I'm just-"

"Scared..." Paul finished your sentence, looking up at you from where his head was rested in your lap, baby blues shining from below. Once Marko's fate had passed he had managed to relax a little, knowing his closest packmate was safe from his fate. Now the other three would be too, there was no holy water bath, the stereo had been moved to another part of the house and David had no intention of fighting Michael.

You had chosen to hide until Max was firmly trapped, knowing he would sense something amiss too soon if he saw you all waiting for him. The entire house had been filled with various scents, blood from the dead animals in the gleaming red room, lavender from the garden out front, and at least three weed plants burned outside. It had sent everyone into a slight haze but the boys had scared them out of it.

Before you had arrived the boys had taken you down to the sea, so you could complete your ritual one more time. But you were met with nothing, darkness, and silence. Yes, it meant their fates had changed, but to what you couldn't know. The future was uncertain and your lives in the balance of the next few hours, determined by the death of the father.

"They're here" Marko spoke from beside the window, pulling back into the shadows, eyes glowing as they met yours.

It was time.

You all listened intently, twitching as sounds grew below you, the boys could hear better than you. When you heard Sam shout the boys lifted off the ground, being as silent as possible as you were carried by David, he left you at the top of the stairs before dropping down behind his sire.

Max's eyes widened, looking at his sons before his brows furrowed, a dark snarl ripping from his chest. From your position you couldn't see how his face changed, bones jutting out, teeth growing sharper until there was nothing human left of him at all.

"David. What is the meaning of this!"

His children did little more than smirk in response, and as Max turned he realised he was truly trapped, even if he flew away he could be weakened by the boys and the half-vampire, Star, who was smiling devilishly. Even Michael looked a little scared of her.

The beast moved faster than you could see, swiping and growling, pushing away the humans and leaving him surrounded by those who he could try and influence. But it did not work. Regardless of the blood bond, he was no longer truly in control, never again would he be able to force their minds. Defeat and an ounce of fear flashed in his animalistic features.

With a mighty roar he charged, lunging his large form towards the vicious brunette who had been circling him like a panther, arms outstretched and claws sharp.

Max did not reach your love, his arms were seized, wrapped tight by the blondes who dug their talons into his tough flesh.

His eldest, David, climbed upon his shoulders, jaw open wide.

He bit down, his fangs pressing into Max's throat, inciting a scream from the older man. But his arms were restricted, and he was weak. So David's teeth tore, biting harshly until the skin pulled apart and blood sprayed into his white hair.

Max's head fell, tossed to the side and frozen in an expression of torment.

He was dead. His body crumpled to the ground. His second death complete.

"You'll get cold if you stay like that little dove," arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a naked chest, soft curls brushing against your shoulders as the person behind you arched his head forward to kiss your cheek.

You hummed, leaning back, enjoying the waves lapping against you.

Hours had passed, and the night would end soon. It was over faster than expected.

David had insisted on cleaning himself, feeling dirty with his ex-sire's blood. Dragging you down to the ocean himself and stripping you with him before pulling you beneath the waves, holding you close as he let your scent cover the one he hated most.

"It's over," Marko smiled into your skin, a hand sliding up your body and encompassing your cheek, turning your face so your eyes would meet his own. He was quiet for a moment, eyes searching yours, full of love and promises. When he spoke he simply mirrored your own words, a reassuring confirmation you would carry with you for some time.

"It's over."

#tlb #the lost boys #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines #poly lost boys x reader #david tlb #paul tlb #tlb 1987

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abbysanders2000 · 3 years ago

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Embarrassment at its finest (David x reader)

Just a wee David x reader to start off the day. Y/n decided to test her luck with Davy. We'll see how far she gets. Enjoy my beauties!!

Now when you think of vampires you think of your typical movie monster. Blood fangs coffins all that jazz. But do you ever think about them being flirty little bastards? So much so it gets a little embarrassing?

That's how Y/n felt each time she was out on the boardwalk with her boyfriend David. He wasn't a very touchy feeling person by no means but the people of Santa Carla were damn sure gonna know that she was HIS girl. No one else's

Either it was little nips on the neck or a little squeeze of the rear David always found a way to make Y/n's face turn a very nice shade of red. At times she found it to be a little embarrassing. Tonight however would be different. After all what goes around comes around.

David and Y/n were sitting on a bench waiting for the others to catch up. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he looked away trying to spot his brothers. Y/n took this opportunity to strike. She snaked her arms around his middle.

David didn't turn to look at her. He figured she just wanted a hug or was cold. Wrong! Y/n began a trail of kisses starting from his collarbone all the way up to his jaw.

"What's gotten into you tonight kitten?" He asked a small smirk forming on the side of his mouth. "Can I not kiss my boyfriend?" She asked tilting her head to the side slightly.

"I never said that. But don't you think this much in public is a bit... well much?" "But it's fine when you squeeze my ass in front of everyone?" She smirked. That shut him up.

"Dude are we interrupting something?" Paul asked as they finally decided to show. "Looks like the beginning of a steamy make-out session." Marko said.

Even though David couldn't blush it still did Y/n good to see that look on his face. "Are you two chatty Cathy's ready to go?" David grumbles in annoyance.

Dwayne couldn't help but chuckle. "Come on kids let's go." He said as he held Laddie's hand. Y/n hums as she gets up from the bench. She has a little strut about her as she walks beside David. Occasionally she'd reach over and ever so slightly pinch his side and upper half of his leg.

David clenched his jaw tightly. He was dying to teach her a lesson right here in front of everyone but held it in. What really chapped his ass was the fact that Y/n got on Marko's bike and not his. That little shit!

Marko was picking up on what she was doing. He taught her well in the art of messing with peoples heads. It almost made him want to cry he was so proud. He revs up his bike as the small family make their way home.

On the way home Y/n was thinking of ways to seal the embarrassment she inflicted upon her boyfriend. Once parked she got off the bike and looked at Marko. "Got any ideas to put the icing on the cake?" She asked.

"I thought you'd never ask sis." He smirked as he motions for her to come closer. She leans down so that he can whisper in her ear. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep from giggling but a little giggle escaped her lips.

David looked back at them as he got off of his bike. "Wanna enlighten me on what's so funny kitty?" He asked. Y/n was quick to shake her head. "Nothing Davy."

Oh but it was indeed something. She slowly but surely made her way over to her mate. She said a little prayer in her mind before she got fully to him. His back was turned to her as he walked in the cave.

Once they all were in and the barrels were lit up is when she made her move. 1..2..3

SLAP!

David's eyes widened as his mate giggled madly as she ran off to find a place to hide. His icy blue eyes were now yellow. "Y/N!!!!!!! GET YOUR LITTLE ASS BACK HERE!"

All three brothers were in the floor laughing. "I can't believe she did it!" Marko laughed. "That was priceless man! Did you see the look on his face!" Paul laughed holding his stomach.

Dwayne shook his head as he finally stopped. "It's not every day someone slaps David's ass."

#kiefer sutherland #the lost boys #the lost boys david #david x reader #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #x reader insert

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nbula-rising · 2 years ago

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In Memoriam: Celebrities who died in 2022

Peter Bogdanovich, 82. The ascot-wearing cinephile and director of 1970s black-and-white classics like “The Last Picture Show” and “Paper Moon.” Jan. 6.

Sidney Poitier, 94. He played roles of such dignity and intelligence that he transformed how Black people were portrayed on screen, becoming the first Black actor to win an Oscar for best lead performance and the first to be a top box-office draw. Jan. 6.

Marilyn Bergman, 93. The Oscar-winning lyricist who teamed with husband Alan Bergman on “The Way We Were,” “How Do You Keep the Music Playing?” and hundreds of other songs. Jan. 8.

Bob Saget, 65. The actor-comedian known for his role as beloved single dad Danny Tanner on the sitcom “Full House” and as the wisecracking host of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Jan. 9.

Dwayne Hickman, 87. The actor and network TV executive who despite numerous achievements throughout his life would always be remembered fondly by a generation of baby boomers for his role as Dobie Gillis. Jan. 9.

Ronnie Spector, 78. The cat-eyed, bee-hived rock ‘n’ roll siren who sang such 1960s hits as “Be My Baby,” “Baby I Love You” and “Walking in the Rain” as the leader of the girl group the Ronettes. Jan. 12.

Fred Parris, 85. The lead singer of the 1950s harmony group the Five Satins and composer of the classic doo-wop ballad “In the Still of the Night.” Jan. 13.

Ralph Emery, 88. He became known as the dean of country music broadcasters over more than a half-century in both radio and television. Jan. 15.

Yvette Mimieux, 80. The blond and blue-eyed 1960s film star of “Where the Boys Are,” “The Time Machine” and “Light in the Piazza.” Jan. 17.

Meat Loaf, 74. The rock superstar loved by millions for his “Bat Out of Hell” album and for such theatrical, dark-hearted anthems as “Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” and “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That).” Jan. 20.

Louie Anderson, 68. His four-decade career as a comedian and actor included his unlikely, Emmy-winning performance as mom to twin adult sons in the TV series “Baskets.” Jan. 21.

Howard Hesseman, 81. He played the radio disc jockey Dr. Johnny Fever on the sitcom “WKRP in Cincinnati” and the actor-turned-history teacher Charlie Moore on “Head of the Class.” Jan. 29.

Ashley Bryan, 98. A prolific and prize-winning children’s author and illustrator who told stories of Black life, culture and folklore in such acclaimed works as “Freedom Over Me,” “Beautiful Blackbird” and “Beat the Story-Drum, Pum-Pum.” Feb. 4.

Lata Mangeshkar, 92. A legendary Indian singer with a prolific, groundbreaking catalog and a voice recognized by more than a billion people in South Asia. Feb. 6.

Betty Davis, 77. A bold and pioneering funk singer, model and songwriter of the 1960s and ‘70s who was credited with inspiring then-husband Miles Davis’ landmark fusion of jazz and more contemporary sounds. Feb. 9.

Bappi Lahiri, 69. A popular Bollywood singer and composer who won millions of fans with his penchant for feet-tapping disco music in the 1980s and 1990s. Feb. 15.

Mark Lanegan, 57. The singer whose raspy baritone and darkly poetic songwriting made Screaming Trees an essential part of the early Seattle grunge scene and brought him an acclaimed solo career. Feb. 22.

Sally Kellerman, 84. The Oscar and Emmy nominated actor who played Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan in director Robert Altman’s 1970 film “MASH.” Feb. 24.

Emilio Delgado, 81. The actor and singer who for 45 years was a warm and familiar presence in children’s lives and a rare Latino face on American television as fix-it shop owner Luis on “Sesame Street.” March 10.

Traci Braxton, 50. A singer who was featured with her family in the reality television series “Braxton Family Values.” March 12.

William Hurt, 71. His laconic charisma and self-assured subtlety as an actor made him one of the 1980s foremost leading men in movies such as “Broadcast News,” “Body Heat” and “The Big Chill.” March 13.

Brent Renaud, 50. An acclaimed filmmaker who traveled to some of the darkest and most dangerous corners of the world for documentaries that transported audiences to little-known places of suffering. Killed in Ukraine when Russian forces opened fire on his vehicle. March 13.

Taylor Hawkins, 50. For 25 years, he was the drummer for Foo Fighters and best friend of frontman Dave Grohl. March 25.

Estelle Harris, 93. She hollered her way into TV history as George Costanza’s short-fused mother on “Seinfeld” and voiced Mrs. Potato Head in the “Toy Story” franchise. April 2.

June Brown, 95. She played the chain-smoking Cockney matriarch Dot Cotton on the British soap opera “EastEnders” for 35 years. April 3.

Bobby Rydell, 79. A pompadoured heartthrob of early rock ’n roll who was a star of radio, television and the movie musical “Bye Bye Birdie.” April 5.

Gilbert Gottfried, 67. The actor and legendary standup comic known for his raw, scorched voice and crude jokes. April 12.

Liz Sheridan, 93. She played doting mom to Jerry Seinfeld on his hit sitcom. April 15.

Robert Morse, 90. An actor who won a Tony Award as a hilariously brash corporate climber in “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” and a second one a generation later as the brilliant, troubled Truman Capote in “Tru.” April 20.

Naomi Judd, 76. Her family harmonies with daughter Wynonna turned them into the Grammy-winning country stars The Judds. April 30.

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Mickey Gilley, 86. A country singer whose namesake Texas honky-tonk inspired the 1980 film “Urban Cowboy” and a nationwide wave of Western-themed nightspots. May 7.

Fred Ward, 79. A veteran actor who brought a gruff tenderness to tough-guy roles in such films as “The Right Stuff,” “The Player” and “Tremors.” May 8.

Ray Liotta, 67. The actor best known for playing mobster Henry Hill in “Goodfellas” and baseball player Shoeless Joe Jackson in “Field of Dreams.” May 26.

Andy “Fletch” Fletcher, 60. Keyboardist for British synth pop giants Depeche Mode for more than 40 years. May 26.

Ronnie Hawkins, 87. A brash rockabilly star from Arkansas who became a patron of the Canadian music scene after moving north and recruiting a handful of local musicians later known as the Band. May 29.

Ann Turner Cook, 95. Her cherubic baby face was known the world over as the original Gerber baby. June 3.

Jim Seals, 80. He teamed with fellow musician “Dash” Crofts on such 1970s soft-rock hits as “Summer Breeze,” “Diamond Girl” and “We May Never Pass This Way Again.” June 6.

Jean-Louis Trintignant, 91. A French film legend and amateur race car driver who earned acclaim for his starring role in the Oscar-winning film “A Man and a Woman” half a century ago and went on to portray the brutality of aging in his later years. June 17.

Mark Shields, 85. A political commentator and columnist who shared his insight into American politics and wit on “PBS NewsHour” for decades. June 18.

James Caan, 82. The curly-haired tough guy known to movie fans as the hotheaded Sonny Corleone of “The Godfather” and to television audiences as both the dying football player in the classic weeper “Brian’s Song” and the casino boss in “Las Vegas.” July 6.

Tony Sirico, 79. He played the impeccably groomed mobster Paulie Walnuts in “The Sopranos” and brought his tough-guy swagger to films including “Goodfellas.” July 8.

Larry Storch, 99. The rubber-faced comic whose long career in theater, movies and television was capped by his “F Troop” role as zany Cpl. Agarn in the 1960s spoof of Western frontier TV shows. July 8.

William “Poogie” Hart, 77. A founder of the Grammy-winning trio the Delfonics who helped write and sang a soft lead tenor on such classic “Sound of Philadelphia” ballads as “La-La (Means I Love You)” and “Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind This Time).” July 14.

Taurean Blacque, 82. An Emmy-nominated actor who was known for his role as a detective on the 1980s NBC drama series “Hill Street Blues.” July 21.

Paul Sorvino, 83. An imposing actor who specialized in playing crooks and cops like Paulie Cicero in “Goodfellas” and the NYPD sergeant Phil Cerreta on “Law & Order.” July 25.

Tony Dow, 77. As Wally Cleaver on the sitcom “Leave It to Beaver,” he helped create the popular and lasting image of the American teenager of the 1950s and 60s. July 27.

Bernard Cribbins, 93. A beloved British entertainer whose seven-decade career ranged from the bawdy “Carry On” comedies to children’s television and “Doctor Who.” July 27.

Nichelle Nichols, 89. She broke barriers for Black women in Hollywood as communications officer Lt. Uhura on the original “Star Trek” television series. July 30.

Pat Carroll, 95. A comedic television mainstay for decades, Emmy-winner for “Caesar’s Hour” and the voice of Ursula in “The Little Mermaid.” July 30.

Judith Durham, 79. Australia’s folk music icon who achieved global fame as the lead singer of The Seekers. Aug. 5.

Olivia Newton-John, 73. The Grammy-winning superstar who reigned on pop, country, adult contemporary and dance charts with such hits as “Physical” and “You’re the One That I Want” and won countless hearts as everyone’s favorite Sandy in the blockbuster film version of “Grease.” Aug. 8.

Lamont Dozier, 81. He was the middle name of the celebrated Holland-Dozier-Holland team that wrote and produced “You Can’t Hurry Love,” “Heat Wave” and dozens of other hits and helped make Motown an essential record company of the 1960s and beyond. Aug. 8.

Wolfgang Petersen, 81. The German filmmaker whose World War II submarine epic “Das Boot” propelled him into a blockbuster Hollywood career that included the films “In the Line of Fire,” “Air Force One” and “The Perfect Storm.” Aug. 12.

Anne Heche, 53. The Emmy-winning film and television actor whose dramatic Hollywood rise in the 1990s and accomplished career contrasted with personal chapters of turmoil. Aug. 14.

Bob LuPone, 76. As an actor, he earned a Tony Award nomination in the original run of “A Chorus Line” and played Tony Soprano’s family physician, and also helped found and lead the influential off-Broadway theater company MCC Theater for nearly 40 years. Aug. 27.

Charlbi Dean, 32. The South African actor and model who had a breakout role in “Triangle of Sadness,” which won this year’s top prize at the Cannes Film Festival. Aug. 29.

Marsha Hunt, 104. One of the last surviving actors from Hollywood’s so-called Golden Age of the 1930s and 1940s who worked with performers ranging from Laurence Olivier to Andy Griffith in a career disrupted for a time by the McCarthy-era blacklist. Sept. 7.

Ramsey Lewis, 87. A renowned jazz pianist whose music entertained fans over a more than 60-year career that began with the Ramsey Lewis Trio and made him one of the country’s most successful jazz musicians. Sept. 12.

Jean-Luc Godard, 91. The iconic “enfant terrible” of the French New Wave who revolutionized popular cinema in 1960 with his first feature, “Breathless,” and stood for years among the film world’s most influential directors. Sept. 13.

Irene Papas, 93. The Greek actor and recording artist renowned for her dramatic performances and austere beauty that earned her prominent roles in Hollywood movies as well as in French and Italian cinema over six decades. Sept. 14.

Henry Silva, 95. A prolific character actor best known for playing villains and tough guys in “The Manchurian Candidate,” “Ocean’s Eleven” and other films. Sept. 14.

Louise Fletcher, 88. A late-blooming star whose riveting performance as the cruel and calculating Nurse Ratched in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” set a new standard for screen villains and won her an Academy Award. Sept. 23.

Pharoah Sanders, 81. The influential tenor saxophonist revered in the jazz world for the spirituality of his work. Sept. 24.

Coolio, 59. The rapper was among hip-hop’s biggest names of the 1990s with hits including “Gangsta’s Paradise” and “Fantastic Voyage.” Sept. 28.

Kevin Locke, 68. An acclaimed Native American flute player, hoop dancer, cultural ambassador and educator. Sept. 30.

Sacheen Littlefeather, 75. The actor and activist who declined Marlon Brando’s 1973 Academy Award for “The Godfather” on his behalf in an indelible protest of Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans. Oct. 2.

Loretta Lynn, 90. The Kentucky coal miner’s daughter whose frank songs about life and love as a woman in Appalachia pulled her out of poverty and made her a pillar of country music. Oct. 4.

Judy Tenuta, 72. A brash standup who cheekily styled herself as the “Love Goddess” and toured with George Carlin as she built her career in the 1980s golden age of comedy. Oct. 6.

Jody Miller, 80. Her hit “Queen of the House” won the 1966 Grammy Award for best country performance by a woman. Oct. 6.

Anita Kerr, 94. A Grammy-winning singer and composer whose vocal group the Anita Kerr Singers provided the lush backdrop to the Nashville Sound. Oct. 10.

Angela Lansbury, 96. The scene-stealing British actor who kicked up her heels in the Broadway musicals “Mame” and “Gypsy” and solved endless murders as crime novelist Jessica Fletcher in the long-running TV series “Murder, She Wrote.” Oct. 11.

Robbie Coltrane, 72. The baby-faced comedian and character actor whose hundreds of roles included a crime-solving psychologist on the TV series “Cracker” and the gentle half-giant Hagrid in the “Harry Potter” movies. Oct. 14.

Joanna Simon, 85. An acclaimed mezzo-soprano, Emmy-winning TV correspondent and one of the three singing Simon sisters who include pop star Carly. Oct. 19.

Lucy Simon, 82. The composer who received a Tony nomination in 1991 for her work on the long-running Broadway musical “The Secret Garden.” Oct. 20.

Leslie Jordan, 67. The Emmy-winning actor whose wry Southern drawl and versatility made him a comedy and drama standout on TV series including “Will & Grace” and “American Horror Story.” Oct. 24.

Julie Powell, 49. A food writer who became an internet darling after blogging for a year about making every recipe in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” leading to a book deal and a film adaptation. Oct. 26.

Jerry Lee Lewis, 87. The untamable rock ‘n’ roll pioneer whose outrageous talent, energy and ego collided on such definitive records as “Great Balls of Fire” and “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” and sustained a career otherwise upended by personal scandal. Oct. 28.

Takeoff, 28. A rapper best known for his work with the Grammy-nominated trio Migos. Nov. 1.

George Booth, 96. A prize-winning cartoonist for The New Yorker who with manic affection captured the timeless comedy of dogs and cats and the human beings somehow in charge of their well being. Nov. 1.

Aaron Carter, 34. The singer-rapper who began performing as a child and had hit albums starting in his teen years. Nov. 5.

MORE: Backstreet Boys perform emotional tribute to Aaron Carter during show

Leslie Phillips, 98. The British actor best known for his roles in the bawdy “Carry On” comedies and as the voice of the Sorting Hat in the “Harry Potter” movies. Nov. 7.

Jeff Cook, 73. The guitarist who co-founded the country group Alabama and steered them up the charts with such hits as “Song of the South” and “Dixieland Delight.” Nov. 8.

Gal Costa, 77. The singer was an icon in the Tropicalia and Brazilian popular music movements and enjoyed a nearly six-decade career. Nov. 9.

Kevin Conroy, 66. The prolific voice actor whose gravely delivery on “Batman: The Animated Series” was for many Batman fans the definitive sound of the Caped Crusader. Nov. 10.

Gallagher, 76. The long-haired, smash-’em-up comedian who left a trail of laughter, anger and shattered watermelons over a decadeslong career. Nov. 11.

John Aniston, 89. The Emmy-winning star of the daytime soap opera “Days of Our Lives” and father of actress Jennifer Aniston. Nov. 11.

Robert Clary, 96. A French-born survivor of Nazi concentration camps during World War II who played a feisty prisoner of war in the improbable 1960s sitcom “Hogan’s Heroes.” Nov. 16.

Jason David Frank, 49. He played the Green Power Ranger Tommy Oliver on the 1990s children’s series “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.” Nov. 19.

Wilko Johnson, 75. The guitarist with British blues-rock band Dr. Feelgood who had an unexpected career renaissance after being diagnosed with terminal cancer. Nov. 21.

Irene Cara, 63. The Oscar, Golden Globe and two-time Grammy winning singer-actor who starred and sang the title cut from the 1980 hit movie “Fame” and then belted out the era-defining hit “Flashdance ... What a Feeling” from 1983′s “Flashdance.” Nov. 25.

Freddie Roman, 85. The comedian was a former dean of The Friars Club and a staple of the Catskills comedy scene. Nov. 26.

Christine McVie, 79. The British-born Fleetwood Mac vocalist, songwriter and keyboard player whose cool, soulful contralto helped define such classics as “You Make Loving Fun,” “Everywhere” and “Don’t Stop." Nov. 30.

Julia Reichert, 76. The Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker behind “American Factory” — often called the “godmother of American independent documentaries” — whose films explored themes of race, class and gender, often in the Midwest. Dec. 1.

Bob McGrath, 90. An actor, musician and children’s author widely known for his portrayal of one of the first regular characters on the children’s show “Sesame Street.” Dec. 4.

Kirstie Alley, 71. A two-time Emmy winner whose roles on the TV megahit “Cheers” and in the “Look Who’s Talking” films made her one of the biggest stars in American comedy in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Dec. 5.

Angelo Badalamenti, 85. The composer best known for creating otherworldly scores for many David Lynch productions, from “Blue Velvet” and “Twin Peaks” to “Mulholland Drive.” Dec. 11.

Stephen “tWitch” Boss, 40. The longtime and beloved dancing DJ on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” and a former contestant on “So You Think You Can Dance.” Dec. 13.

MORE: Ellen DeGeneres mourns tWitch in first on-camera message since his death

Shirley Eikhard, 67. The singer-songwriter who supplied songs for Cher, Emmylou Harris, Anne Murray, Chet Atkins and found lasting fame penning Bonnie Raitt‘s Grammy-winning 1991 hit “Something to Talk About.” Dec. 15.

Thom Bell, 79. The Grammy-winning producer, writer and arranger who helped perfect the “Sound of Philadelphia” of the 1970s with the inventive, orchestral settings of such hits as the Spinners’ “I’ll Be Around” and the Stylistics’ “Betcha by Golly, Wow.” Dec. 22.

**It’s only December 28, this list might expand**

Pelé 82. (1940–2022), soccer icon Dec. 29

Barbara Walters 93. 1929 – 2022) was an American broadcast journalist and television personality. Dec. 30

Pope Benedict XVI, 95; born Joseph Aloisius Ratzinger, 1927 –2022. was the head of the Catholic Church and sovereign of the Vatican City State from 19 April 2005 until his resignation on 28 February 2013. Dec. 31

#celebrities #dead #2022

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dwaynepride · 5 years ago

Text

staring out at the setting sun

summary: dwayne sees how close reader is getting to hamilton, and it worries him.

words: 3,845

warnings: spoilers for 3x11 and 3x24

tags: @stanathanxoox @pageofultron @6adb0y @thegoodlonelydalek @consultingdoctorwholock @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

a/n: this is part 1 of a 2-part fic. both parts are based off of ‘setting sun’ by lord huron

PART 2

I been waiting for you to come, Staring out at the setting sun You been running around again With that boy you call your friend.

As the music thumps against the walls, Dwayne struggles to move through the crowd of people. Tonight is probably the most busy he’s seen it in a long while, and even the team is having trouble dancing and getting refills on their drinks.

Figures the crowd would hit after wrapping up a case.

Finally, Dwayne reaches the bar and comes around the side. And you hadn’t noticed him yet - you were much too busy pouring drinks and giving people their food. So as Dwayne gets behind the bar, he thinks for a moment that he’ll be able to slip in and lend a hand before you can notice. Pass out a couple beers and prove that his help is needed.

His plan doesn’t quite work out, though. “Dwayne? Why’re you here?” You shout at him over the music.

He winces lightly at getting caught, but there’s no use stalking around now. Dwayne quickly pulls a beer from the ice and hands it to a man while taking his money. “It’s boomin’, tonight! Figured you’d need some help up here.”

And Dwayne already knows what you’re going to say. Still, it pulls a smirk to his lips to hear you say it, anyway. “You worked all day. You deserve to have some fun, not work even more.” You move past him to grab a couple more glasses, but when he looks over, Dwayne can see your smile.

It only emboldens him.

“Nah, I’m happy to help!”

“Dwayne...”

“Don’t forget, it’s my bar. I can always order you to let me help.”

Even over the music, he can hear your snort of laughter. But you finally give in, letting Dwayne handle one side of the bar while you work the other. And Dwayne was being honest, he really did want to help. But maybe he had a hidden agenda. Maybe he just wanted to spend some time with you, even if that means working your asses off.

You and him haven’t had much chance together, lately. Maybe that’s on him.

And yeah, he’s tired. Was almost half-tempted to stay behind in the office and catch up on some sleep, but Dwayne’s glad he decided against it. Working with you again, side by side - it was nice. Sometimes, you both brush up against each other running back and forth, trying to fill out orders and keep the bar patrons happy. Once in a while, someone from the team comes up and Dwayne notices you chatting with them, yelling over the music.

Though, Dwayne needs to be conscious of how fast he’s working. It’s not truly his fault if he gets carried away in looking at you - he just glances over at all the perfect moments. Your hair’s a bit crazy and you’re only dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, but it’s more than enough to make him lose his focus.

Strangely, Dwayne can’t recall when he’s been this happy, recently.

It just seems like everything’s been so rough, as of late. Brody leaving the team, dealing with the FBI, learning how to work with Gregorio. And yet, none of that affects him, right now.

The rush lasts for a good few hours until the time winds down to midnight. The music is slower, the team had gone home, and it seems like the people of New Orleans were finally giving Dwayne chance to slow down and really appreciate being in your company.

He comes over to the far side of the bar, where you’re organizing the bills. “You’re doin’ a great job tonight,” Dwayne praises with a big smile. You jump a little, twist your head around, and immediately mimic his smile.

“Thanks,” you reply. “You really didn’t have to help out. I know you probably would’ve wanted to have fun with your friends.”

Dwayne just gives a light scoff at that. “Well, maybe I am having fun with a friend,” he says. You give him a teasing look and go back to counting the bills, but Dwayne really had meant that.

And he knows this isn’t the first time he made a impulsive decision to do whatever it takes to spend time with you. To try and fully understand why he gets such fierce butterflies in his stomach for the bartender he hired only months ago. And the thought of maybe trying to move things to another level....

Well, Dwayne’s much too afraid of losing a friend. And a damn good bartender.

“Chris was trying to telling me something earlier. Apparently Sebastian wants to become a field agent?”

Instantly, your quest elicits a bark of laughter from Dwayne. “Yeah, ‘pparently so,” he answers.

It’s your turn to laugh, head shaking lightly. “It’s hard to imagine him with a gun, fighting bad guys and stuff. What do you think about it?”

Your head turns once again to look at him. Dwayne has to focus on the question in order to speak, and he gives a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s smart. Quick thinker. Don’t see why he can’t be a good agent, with some training.”

“Right,” you reply slowly. And then your smile gets a bit more mischievous. “So, do you think I’d be good agent?”

Dwayne blinks once, and then a little mischievous smile of his own appears. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna be givin’ you any ideas.”

“Ideas?”

“Yep. I’m way too busy to start lookin’ for another bartender.”

Your laughter sounds even sweeter than the slow jazz music from the stage.

Dwayne’s more than happy to revel in it forever, but as the doors of the Tru Tone open up and catches his eye, his easy happiness is instantly sucked away. Leaves a yawning pit in his gut where the warm pleasure had once been.

But that tends to happen whenever Mayor Hamilton is around.

And he doesn’t have to say a word to you. Regrettably, it’s as if you’ve got some kind of radar for the dear Mayor. Always knowing and recognizing his presence in the bar, as rare as it is. Dwayne suspects he only comes here for you (pissing him off is just a bonus.)

It also makes Dwayne wonder just how much time you’re spending with Hamilton to make you so attuned to him.

Dwayne looks to you, noticing how you’ve bounced up on your toes. Trying to keep your excitement underwraps, but Dwayne can see just how pleased you are to see Hamilton. But you don’t move from your spot at the register to greet him. Nor do you call out his name and wave. Because you’re working, and Dwayne knows just how serious you take your job.

For a moment, he thinks about keeping you behind the bar. With him. Away from Douglas Hamilton and his way of poisoning everything he touches. But the notion instantly fills him with guilt - Dwayne can’t just abuse his power, like that.

So, hard as it is, he forces a smile on his face and motions to the Mayor with his head. “Go. You’ve been working hard,” he says.

The way your smile goes wide should’ve made the butterflies worse. This time, it just fills him with dread. “Thanks, Dwayne!”

He tries not to stare when you come out from behind the bar to hug Hamilton.

And it’s driving me insane. Does he make you say his name? And you can’t get it off your tongue Little girl, you are not so young

By now, Dwayne should know better than to think he can hide his feelings from Loretta.

She’s able to sniff out the storm cloud over his head in seconds. Always has, and sometimes, it can be a little annoying. Can’t a man brood in peace without being asked if he wants to talk? But today wasn’t one of those days - Dwayne swirling thoughts sometimes makes it hard to breathe.

“What’s wrong, Dwayne?”

That’s all he really needs.

“It’s Y/N,” he says simply. “And Hamilton. She’s been spending a lotta time with him lately, and I really don’t like it.”

His gaze is elsewhere, away from Loretta and the way her brows shoot up in surprise. He misses how she’s nearly smirks, but reigns it in at the last second. And as she steps closer, Dwayne feels her hand on his shoulder. “Have you considered that maybe you want her attention on you, instead of Hamilton?”

The question makes him frown in confusion, and as he looks up to Loretta, he instantly reads her face. And he scoffs at her. “I’m not jealous.” Loretta raises a single brow. “I’m not! I’m worried about her, Loretta. I don’t trust Hamilton as far as I can throw him.”

“Dwayne, she’s an adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” Loretta says calmly. And her words cause Dwayne to shake his head and look away. “Has it impacted her work at all?”

“....No.”

“Then let her live her life. And if you’re really so worried, keep an eye out for her. Protect her, if you really think it might go that far.”

But Dwayne doesn’t need to be told twice.

If he weren’t already on the Mayor’s ass before, then you just cemented Dwayne’s total focus on him.

Ain’t you worried what i’ll do? And that boy should worry, too Can you face me for what you’ve done? Little girl, you are not so young

Eliza’s death should’ve been the only thing that weighed on Dwayne’s heart.

It had to be enough for him that Javier Garcia lost everything he had. It had to be enough that he sacrificed him in order to nail Hamilton. Not truly getting justice for Eliza had to mean something.

But when the news of Javier’s death came in, Dwayne felt more heavy than ever.

He hadn’t told the team - that can wait until tomorrow. They deserve to have a break, but that didn’t mean he could just forget about it. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet; getting lost in his thoughts and going over the suspects in his mind. Somebody who could gain something from Javier’s death.

The one name that kept popping up was Douglas Hamilton.

And every time it did, Dwayne’s gaze finds you. Happy and vibrant as ever, laughing with strangers up by the bar. Completely unknowing of the kind of man that Hamilton really is. What he’s capable of.

He spent the next few hours mulling over what he should say. Ignoring everybody’s prods for him to go back to his room above the office and get some sleep. No, this was way more important than sleep. And for all Dwayne knew, you could be in danger, as well.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Hamilton hurt you.

You’re the one who’s chatting while the pair of you clean up after the bar closes. Talking about the day - mostly just bitching about how late one of the delivery guys was and you were left waiting for a shipment of beer for two hours. The story really should’ve lightened Dwayne’s heart.

He was just thinking too much about Eliza. And Javier. And Hamilton....

So as you’re leaving that story and melting into a new one, Dwayne finally stops you. A hand grasping your arm, keeping you in place, uncaring around the empty bottles you carry. Your eyes flash up to him, looking confused, and Dwayne reluctantly meets them. “We need to talk,” he says simply.

Slowly, you nod and move to set the empty bottles down on the nearest table. “I noticed you were kinda quiet tonight,” you tell him carefully. And when your eyes come up to meet Dwayne’s once again, careful and troubled, it makes his stomach tight. “What’s wrong?”

Such a loaded question. And even after hours of thinking about it, Dwayne’s not sure where to start.

His hand falls away from your arm, but he stays close. Keeps his eyes locked on yours, hoping to convey how serious this is. “You know the man we’ve been investigating? Javier Garcia? The man who-” Dwayne had a pause and swallow down the lump in his throat. “The man who had Eliza killed?”

He knows you never knew Eliza, but you saw him in the aftermath of her death. A sad and angry and self-pitying Dwayne Pride. Not his proudest moment.

That’s what makes you nod sadly. “He’s dead. Was killed a few hours ago.”

Your eyes blink in surprise, and then shift in confusion. “How? Why?”

“Car bomb,” Dwayne says. “And I reckon he was killed so he couldn’t tell us things. Things that we need to know. That’s the deal we struck with him.”

Dwayne can tell you’re growing more and more confused. Wondering why he was telling you all this. What this all had to do with you. And maybe Dwayne’s just putting off the inevitable. But he takes a breath to brace himself. “I think the person who had him killed was Hamilton.”

Instantly, you pull away from him in a disbelieving shock. Scoffing at his words as if what he told you was completely ridiculous. And maybe to you, it was. “Dwayne, that’s not fucking funny-”

“I’m not tryin’ to be,” he cuts in quickly. “Javier was going to give us information on a lot of bad people. High profile people. And he mentioned Hamilton by name.”

“He’s a criminal, Dwayne! Or was. He’d say anything to keep from going to jail - you should know that.”

“He gave us solid proof. And I can’t think of anyone else who even knew Javier was gonna talk-”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is hard as steel. Cold in a way that Dwayne’s never heard before, and he’d almost preferred if you started yelling at him. Not watching him with a disappointed look in your eye. “Douglas wouldn’t just have somebody killed. Who the hell do you think he is?”

“I think he’s a man who’s afraid of losing his power,” Dwayne says simply. “A man who will do anything to keep it.”

You’re silent for a moment, taking his words in before scoffing. You take a single step away from him, and Dwayne reigns in his impulse to move closer. “Do you even have any evidence that he had Garcia killed? Or suspects? Anything?” You ask him. Though, it sounds more like a demand.

He hesitates, lips forming a line before he reluctantly shakes his head.

“Then he didn’t do it,” you conclude. “So don’t try to pin this on him.”

With a shake of your head, you finally move to walk past Dwayne, intending to leave. But it’s instinct that has Dwayne reaching out, catching your arm and gripping it tight in his desperation. And he just wishes you’d look him in the eye - make you see how serious he is. Make you see his fear. “Please, just listen. I already just lost somebody very dear to me. And I know this is all very hard to hear. But Douglas is dangerous, and I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

For a moment, you hesitate. And Dwayne thinks that he finally talked some sense into you. Made you see things for how they are.

But then you pull your arm away from him. And Dwayne releases it. “He’s not dangerous, Dwayne. But if you keep accusing my boyfriend of things he hasn’t done, then you will lose me.”

He lets you leave, and even as the doors are slammed shut, Dwayne’s legs don’t seem to want to work. He stands there in his quiet, empty bar. And as much as his motives were selfless and innocent - to keep you safe from Hamilton - Dwayne can help the sharp, piercing pain in the center of his chest at that word.

Boyfriend.

I’m fond of living, but I would have given it all For the girl I loved Oh, is he ready to die for you, baby? Now that the deed is done?

As numb as Dwayne’s spirit is, he wishes his body would feel the same.

He can’t focus on too much of anything besides his aches and the events of the last twenty-four hours.

After everything that’s happened - after all the sacrifices Dwayne has made to get here - he was finally able to reveal Hamilton for the person he is. Finally able to bring some justice to all the wrong that man has done. And Dwayne can barely believe it, himself. He thinks he may be dreaming, but the smarting of his muscles and the light burn of his stab wound made sure that he was awake.

Though, if anything, his heart felt a little lighter. The team made sure of that.

And Dwayne was sure that one of the sacrifices he made was you. He’d been so afraid that his attempts to warn you against Hamilton might’ve caused irreparable damage to your relationship. Maybe he hurt you in some way that you can’t forgive.

So seeing you slowly walk through the sorry excuse for the doors of the Tru Tone, Dwayne knows he must be dreaming. Or at least maybe seeing things because he’s lost more blood that he realized.

Even from across the bar, he can tell you’d been crying. Red eyes and swollen cheeks and such withdrawn body language. So different from how he knows you to be, and suddenly. Dwayne’s own aches mean nothing.

You must’ve heard about what happened on the news. Because Dwayne knows for a fact that Hamilton is not man enough to call you himself.

As you approach, your eyes kept falling away from Dwayne. Looking sheepish, as if expecting him to start yelling and demanding you get out of his bar. But Dwayne says nothing; honestly, he doesn’t really know what to say. So you’re the one to speak up first. “Dwayne, I- I heard what happened. With Douglas. After what happened to the bar...” Your eyes float around the room sadly. He knows you loved the place almost as much as he did.

Dwayne does the same, and notices Loretta eyeing the pair of you.

“I didn’t want to believe Douglas had anything to do with it,” you continue lowly. “But then tonight...”

Again, you trail off. And Dwayne finally sets down the gloves he’d been holding. Cleaning the bar can wait. “You wanna talk?” He offers.

Immediately, you nod. And Dwayne leads you over to what’s left of the backroom. It reeks of smoke and he can’t hardly see much, but it’s private. Quiet. And Dwayne’s barely turned around before you’re on him. Arms around his middle, face in his chest, hugging tight as if he’d suddenly be ripped away.

The way his arms come around you - it’s instinct.

He doesn’t even have to think about it.

Holding you feels natural and right. And after today, hell yeah, Dwayne will admit that it feels good.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble against his chest. To afraid of seeing his face to pull back and say it clearly. “I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have brushed you off when you were just trying to protect me. I just- I really didn’t want to believe that Douglas- that he could-”

You’re crying again. Dwayne can hear it in the way the hiccups fracture your words. Can feel your jumps in breath. And his hand eventually comes up to cradle the back of your head, letting his fingers card through your hair. He leans his head down, lips brushing your temple. “I understand,” he says. And Dwayne’s voice is just barely above a whisper. As if speaking louder would break this precious moment. “I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

“...You’re not?”

Dwayne has to breathe to keep from getting too emotional. Your voice was so small. So sad. “No, honey. I could never be mad at you. Never.”

And oh, how he wishes you could really, truly understand the depth of that response. How it’s not just something he’s saying to make you feel better. Wondering if you really knew how wrapped around your finger he is. And Dwayne wonders if he really should be angry, but he finds that he can’t. There’s no hot burn in his gut - only the vicious flutter of butterfly wings.

You and resentment just don’t fit in the same sentence together.

Eventually, your tears slow. And you pull back to finally meet his eyes. Dwayne’s still running on instinct - his hand comes up to fit along the curve of your cheek. His other settles on your hip, hoping to keep you close and with him. The sensation sends sparks of electricity up his spine. And he’s barely focused on whether it’s a good idea or not to be touching you, like this. If now’s the right time.

But you’re not pulling away. Surely that’s a good sign.

And it’s hard for him to believe any of this could be wrong. Because with your arms around his waist, fingers spread over a little area of his back, you seem to be drawing even closer to him. Not pulling away, like you had before. Dwayne hardly dares to breathe.

“Dwayne?”

You breathe out his name. It sounds like heaven. “Yeah?”

“When the bar’s back up and running, do I still have a job here?”

And despite his numbing of his spirit and the effect you’re having on him, Dwayne doesn’t even try to hold back his small bout of laughter. Neither do you. “‘Course, you do. Can’t imagine this place without you with me,” he replies easily.

Honestly, those words came out without his consent. A vulnerable look into his true feelings; much too bold and honest to pretend like it was anything else. It nearly scares Dwayne enough to make him break away. To prompt him into some kind of damage control.

But you don’t give him the chance.

You’re on your toes, and you’re kissing him. Soft and slow and sweet, and it’s a gut reaction to kiss you back with the same warm affection. You just feel too good and too gentle after these last few days of being so hard and angry at everything. It feels like he lost a piece of himself in the hunt.

Now, it’s easy to believe that maybe you were just holding that piece for him.

Your fingers press into his back, holding onto him even tighter when Dwayne tilts your head up to kiss you deeper. Faintly, he hears commotion in the other room. Other people might’ve finally showed up to help. Frankly, Dwayne can’t imagine caring, right now. Because you gasp against his lips, exhale a shaky breath, and Dwayne feels like he might die if he lets you go.

For just a few more moments, he can forget about the tears still falling down your cheeks.

I’m just waiting for night and the fading light of the setting sun.

#ncis new orleans x reader #ncis nola x reader #dwayne pride x reader #dwayne pride imagine #douglas hamilton x reader

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

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The Lost Boys: Exhale

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 3,384

Summary: My attempt at a sad, spooky fic featuring Dwayne, key word being attempt. I hope I was able to do him justice. Partially inspired by Stephen King’s writings.

Ocean waves lapped at the sandy shore, coaxing you to try and open your eyes. Despite knowing you needed to get up, you struggled to keep your lids from fluttering closed again. They felt heavy, like they were caked with cement.

You cleared your throat and tried again.

When you finally managed it, you propped yourself up and took in your surroundings. The moon was full and luminous, sitting high in the sky. A few bits of shadowy cloud drifted by in tangled clusters.

Obviously, it was late into the night but you had no clue what the actual time was which made you nervous.

How long had you been passed out here?

There wasn’t anyone around you at the moment, the next closest bonfire was a small spec in the distance, but that didn’t mean it had been that you had been alone the whole time.

You checked yourself and didn’t feel any injuries, nor were your clothes ripped, so you breathed easier knowing that you likely had not been assaulted. However, you did discover that you were missing our wallet. You cursed and got up on shaky legs, brushing the sand off of you.

So, it was nighttime, you weren’t sure how you got the beach, and your wallet was missing… great.

Crossing your arms, you walked towards the sounds and lights that beckoned to you from a ways down from the part of the beach you found yourself at. As you got closer you saw a set of stairs that led up to a bunch of shops and rides.

The Santa Carla Boardwalk sign was lit up nice and bright. Everything on the boardwalk, shop and ride alike, was decked out in spooky-themed décor.

You spied a large banner that read, “Halloween Monster Bash / OPEN LATE / Sat. Oct. 30th” and a lightbulb went off in your head.

That explained how you probably ended up passed out on the beach—you probably partied too hard for the bash and wandered off after you had had too much to drink. Not a bright move on your part, but plausible.

You promised to try and be on your best behavior for the foreseeable future. Given that it was a Saturday night, and a Halloween promotion at that, the boardwalk was teeming with people who kept bumping into you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had some bruises tomorrow.

You ended up by the carrousel, which had a much calmer surrounding crowd compared to the other areas, and sat down on a metal bench, watching the lights on the ride as it made its slow revolutions.

Suddenly, a group of long-haired boys muscled their way onto the carousel. One in particular caught your attention and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his leather jacket. A big, yellow cat with bared fangs and claws was stitched on the side of it.

The cat, and by extension the boy wearing it, was rugged, yet sleek, dangerous, yet beautiful.

He must have sensed your focus on him because his head snapped in your direction, his soulful eyes making your throat itch and close up. With no other reaction besides the eye contact, he left his group, gliding to the edge of the moving ride and smoothly stepped off.

He sat quietly next to you on the other side of the bench, neither of you willing to speak up. It turned into a battle of wills to see who would break first. After an extended period of silence, he gave in and accepted his defeat with a snort.

“What’s your name?”

Nervous, your hand crept to your neck and his intense stare followed the movement. “Y/N,” you answered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dwayne.”

“I like your jacket, Dwayne. The stich work is stellar.”

His lips curled upwards into a slow, easy smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You opened your mouth and froze when you suddenly remembered. “I’m meeting a friend. His motorcycle broke down and I told him I would give him a lift home.”

“Hmm. So where is he?”

“I’m not sure. I-I was on the beach for a while,” you admitted more than a little embarrassed. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him—I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

“Let’s take a walk. I’m sure we can find him together.” He stood up and offered his hand to you.

You were conflicted. On one hand, you had just promised yourself to make smarter decisions; on the other, there was something about this boy that drew you in. He gave you another small smile that sealed the deal.

You placed your hand in his and he led you around the boardwalk, the picture of a perfect gentleman. If gentlemen wandered around in public with their toned chests and abdomens exposed.

Dwayne and you kept your eyes peeled for your friend, but he also persuaded you to stop at a few booths along the way and brought you some food to try. You took a bite of the soft pretzel he handed you. You chewed thoughtfully before giving your review.

“It’s okay. The flavors aren’t out of this world though.”

“Not possible,” he said stealing the pretzel back. “This is the best snack this place has to offer.”

He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re not feverish, so I guess that rules out being sick. But you do feel chilled.”

Dwayne stared you down, his eyes looked like they were searching for something. You weren’t sure if he found what he was looking for. The two of you slowed down and you leaned against a wooden rail near the entrance to the boardwalk. As much as you wished your friend would turn up or that you could continue walking with Dwayne, you recognized that it was incredibly late and decided to call it a night.

He also seemed reluctant to let you go. “Will you be back tomorrow?” he murmured. “You can keep me company for Halloween.”

You nodded enthusiastically, glad that he had enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. The two of you made plans to meet back at the carousel again the following night. Halloween night. He stroked your wrist and bided you good-night.

You turned on your heel, feeling the energy within you pulsing as you walked away.

_______________

The next night, you found yourself sitting on the same metal bench near the carousel. This time you felt more grounded and much less flustered. You jokingly thought to yourself that you must be channeling strength from Halloween.

Dwayne joined you on the bench a while later, this time coming without his friends entirely.

“Hi,” you said lamely when he looked at you. “Would you rather sit or walk?”

He chose to walk and you were eager to see where he would take you this time. He shouldered his way through the throngs of people and you followed closely behind, gripping his jacket tightly. The crowds thinned out significantly as you walked down to the beach, the noise further drowned out by the ocean.

Dry sand crunched under your shoes as he moved further away from public view. Eventually, Dwayne came to a stop by a low burning fire which he stoked back to life.

You looked around in surprise. “Hey, this is where I was last night. What a crazy coincidence!”

His dark eyes peered at you from where he sat opposite of you on the other side of the bonfire. But he didn’t comment. Instead, he asked you questions.

“Did you ever get ahold of your friend?”

“No,” you admitted, feeling uncomfortable. “He probably hates me right now. Something was wrong with the bike engine, which is why he needed the ride.”

“That’s cool that he rides.”

“His bike is pretty cool. The body is dark red, and he has wheel covers on it, plus there’s an antenna on the back end.”

Again, he didn’t say anything. He just stared. The mood turned uncomfortable once more, so you tried changing topics to bring back the fun you had the previous night.

“I’m actually passing thru Santa Carla on my way to L. A. More specifically, Englewood. To pursue my dream,” you revealed, splaying your fingers in a jazz hand fashion. That seemed to perk his interest and his lips twitched slightly.

You drew up your legs and rested your chin on the tops of your knees. A happy tingle started in your chest and ran down the rest of your body as you remembered back to another time in your life. Back when you were a small child and made a friend.

You told Dwayne the story of how your grandmother used to be involved with one of the local food pantry groups in your home city. And how you often used to tag along with her when she volunteered because your parents worked a lot. One day you were sitting under the tables and bored out of your mind, you started to doodle on the filed floor. You were not expecting another kid to join you and you jumped when they introduced themselves.

You guys were around the same age and started to seek each other out whenever you went with your grandma while she volunteered. Soon, you were even hanging out when you weren’t at the food pantry.

“People used to freak out when they saw us together in public. It was so stupid,” you ranted. “It wasn’t their fault they were on the streets. Most homeless are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judged my friend for doing what they had to do to survive—”

Next thing you knew, you were knocked backwards onto the ground, your head taking a particularly hard hit.

In a miraculously fast move, Dwayne had launched himself across the fire to tackle you. It happened so fast, you hadn’t been able to track him. He moved like a menacing shape, striking with the accuracy and speed of a viper.

Your body locked up from where you were pinned and you gasped for air.

Dwayne crouched above you, his knees dug into your thighs to keep your legs spread apart and his claws gripped into your wrists like a vice. He had taken you by surprise and made sure you were completely immobile and unable to fight back. But that wasn’t even the most terrifying part.

The once smooth planes of his face had changed into raised, sharp angles along his brow and cheeks. His hair hung down over you, like a black curtain, so you had no choice but to look at him. Light from the nearby fire casted shadows where it filtered through the strands of hair, making him appear even more menacing.

He leaned down and clicked his fangs right in your face.

Your heart, which had been hammering like a freight train, stopped beating entirely. The jarring stillness within you made you think that you were having a heart attack.

“Quit playing games, Y/N,” he said darkly, his lip curled up in a snarl.

You were so frightened that you couldn’t respond even when he shook you.

“You’ve been toying with me for two nights now, just give it up. We both know you are not what you claim to be.”

You tried to articulate your shock but you couldn’t must a single sound. He growled gutturally and time slowed down. Was this how you were going to die?

A blinding pain ripped through your head, robbing you of all your senses as everything turned white.

_______________

You hummed and bopped your head to the song that was playing on the radio in your aging car. The sun had set some time ago, so you read the green road sign with help from your headlights.

Santa Carla, ten miles.

That should be a good place to spend the night to spend the night. According to the map you were consulting, Santa Carla seemed like a decently sized city that should have your choice of motels to pick from.

You entered city limits and as you turned a corner you noticed a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. A boy with dark hair sat crouched next to it. Debating with yourself, you ended up slowing down and rolling your window.

“Hi,” you called from the driver’s seat. “Do you need any help?”

He turned and you instantly saw how attractive he was. He stood, wiping his hands on a rag that was tucked into his pocket.

“Something’s wrong with the engine. I don’t want to drive it, in case it gets worse.”

No stranger to car troubles, you felt empathetic.

“Get in. I can take you home, or to a mechanic, if there’s a garage still open.”

He accepted the offer and settled into the passenger’s side. You apologized for not having room to bring the bike with and he reassured you that his friends would take care of it. He asked you to take him home, but first he directed you towards a place called the boardwalk so he could buy you dinner as a thank-you.

Your empty stomach couldn’t refuse food.

When you got out of the car you noticed his jacket for the first time. “Stellar stitching,” you complimented.

He ordered tacos to-go from one of the food stands. “Come on, I know a better spot on the beach where we can eat in peace.”

The spot was isolated, which made you pause with doubt, but the food smelled delicious and Dwayne had been nothing but nice, so you ignored the little warning bell.

Having good food after being a car for most of the day was satisfying and you moaned when you took the first bite of taco. To fill in the silence you explained to him that you were moving down to L.A.

“Just passing through?” he questioned.

“Just passing through.”

You told him about the job offer that had convinced you to leave home and how excited you were to work with the homeless women youth there. “Most of them are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judge them for doing what they have to do to survive.”

Dwayne looked at you with surprise. “You mean that?” He sounded almost conflicted.

You assured him that you most certainly did.

The next hour or so passed quickly, you chatting away with Dwayne jumping in here and there. Despite not being talkative, he did a good job putting you at ease even though you barely knew one another. When you yawned while in the middle of a story and realized you needed to sleep.

You told Dwayne it was time to get him home so you could sort out your motel situation. He turned away from you and grew even more quiet. He didn’t move nor make a single sound which worried you.

“Dwayne?”

Then he whispered, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He turned around and his face looked monstrous with his protruding forehead and blazing eyes that swirled with red and yellow. You covered your mouth.

He flew at you, pinning you into the sand. You fought your best to dislodge him, screaming shrilly, but it would have made no difference had you not fought at all. You were no match for his inhuman strength.

He wrenched your chin back, his hands clawing into your face to expose your neck. By that point you had defensive wounds all over and one of your forearms had brittlely snapped.

Dwayne reared back, his fangs on full display. The last thing you saw as the beautiful boy with the cool jacket tore into your throat was the wide expanse of black sky dotted with twinkling stars overhead.

_______________

You came back to the present with a terrible moan rattling from your lips. You were still supine on your back, but Dwayne was no longer on top of you. He sat a few feet away with his face still in its vampiric state, somberness radiating from him.

Numbly, you reached for your neck and felt wet, mangled flesh under your fingers. And you knew that if you looked down you would see your blood-soaked shirt and your crippled arm. You dragged yourself into an upright position which was a shaky process as one of your arms did not match the other.

“You did this to me,” you whispered. Dwayne nodded once.

“What—” your voice cracked so you tried again. “What am I?”

“Something was different about you from the start. You didn’t have a pulse, your skin was cold,” he said matter of factly. “But I wasn’t sure exactly until you started talking about your job.”

“What am I” you said more strongly.

“We met for the first time in February…”

“Am I like you?” you asked.

He shook is his slowly denial. You tiled your head upwards and took in the sky, moon, and stars. There was only one other option, the option that was the hardest to admit out loud.

“I’m dead, then.”

“You’re the only person I’ve killed that’s ever come back,” he said unsurely.

Now that you remembered everything, and your ghostly status was brought to light, other things started making sense too. How your sense of taste was dulled at the boardwalk and you weren’t sure where you slept last night, if you slept at all.

It seemed that your earlier joke about drawing strength from All Hallows Eve was too far off from the truth.

“You’re the friend I was looking for. Was your bike even really broken back then?” Trails of thick blood leaked from your open wound.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze which was all the answer you needed. “It’s a con I use to lure in meals sometimes,” he finally sighed.

“I never made it to L.A. either… Oh, Dwayne. There was so much I wanted to do.”

You started choking up and he inched forward awkwardly, which you allowed.

“It won’t change things, but it wasn’t personal. I needed to feed and you were the first one I found.”

His candid confession unleashed your tears (looks like ghosts were still able to cry) and the moaning returned. He eased you into his lap and hugged you. His hands rubbed up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

You accepted that you were dead and you didn’t hate Dwayne for what he had done. That didn’t mean you didn’t mourn what you lost. You cried miserably for a long time before the tears ran their course and dried up.

What a mess you must have looked like with your swollen eyes and fatal wounds, your hair likely littered with sand. That got you thinking: how come you didn’t look like this until now? Hmm. Maybe you had could control our appearance. Or you had to remember the truth first.

And another thing, “What happened to my stuff?”

“We scrapped the car for metal and parts. We kept the cash and trashed the rest.”

That was a little annoying. “Donate next time you need to get rid of belongings. I’m sure there’s a lot of people who could use it.”

“Noted,” he promised.

“How much time do you think I have left?” That was an unpleasant realization, especially since you weren’t sure where you would go next.

He gently lifted up the arm that was broken. You gulped. Your fingers were flaking off into bright blue pieces, drifting in the air before fizzling out. You were slowly disappearing.

It started in your hands and creeped up your arms and legs. Dwayne watched it happened alongside you. You weren’t in any pain, but you were glad that he was there with you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Will you hug me as I go?”

He tucked your head into his chest, his hug comforting. Soon your limbs had completely gone and all that remained was your center. A final release of energy that felt like the final exhale let you know that this was it.

“I forgive you, Dwayne,” you said softly. You smiled and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Dwayne watched as the last of you floated off and dissolved into the night air.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured.

I hope that I was able to make Dwayne threatening, but compassionate, like I was aiming for. The Umbrella Academy gif is what I had in mind with the scene at the end. I’m actually a little nervous to post this, so thanks to anyone who takes the time to read!

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #imagines

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would-they-be-good-at-asmr · 6 months ago

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jethro-pride98 · 5 years ago

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Wrong place, Right time.

Just a cute little Drabble for me and my only other Hamilstan @alkow ❤️🖤

Warnings:none

Y/N was new to New Orleans and in need of a job. So she called the only person she knew. Her best friend Douglas Hamilton, the Mayor of New Orleans. He offered her a job as his very own P.A. She accepted it straight away because she knew what he was like and would be able to put him in line if things got out of hand. But time changes things.

Y/N is having a hard time in her office whenever she is at work now. Knowing she will see him, she will talk to him. She doesn't know how it could have happened. He was the only one she trusted with her life. He was her best friend for so many years. A couple of people even joked, he was like a big brother to her. He cared for her, protected her. But just a few nights ago, she realized her feelings for him have changed.

Y/N tried so hard to hide her feelings whenever he was close to her. Nobody else noticed her feelings, luckily. She decided to take a few days off. There was this very nice guy in her neighbourhood. His name was Dwayne Pride. He worked for NCIS. He asked her out a couple of times and Y/N always had a great time with him so she called him.

She knows she doesn't love him. But she was hoping she could distract herself with him. She went to the grocery store to buy some food she wanted to cook for him. She remembers that Dwayne kissed her and she was sick of being so alone so she kissed back but felt nothing. She wanted to forget about Douglas. After closing the door to her apartment behind her she started to prepare everything for a romantic dinner for two. A beautiful dress and sexy underwear, dark lipstick, her beautiful hair cascading down her shoulders and some smooth jazz playing softly in the background. She was waiting for Dwayne.

The sun set down hours ago. Y/N realized he wouldn’t show up anymore...but then someone knocked on her door. She took a deep breath and went to open the door with seductive eyes. But it was not Dwayne, it was Douglas Hamilton. The man she was trying to forget about. He looked at her, surprised but also a bit turned on. He was looking for words to say... “I...I am...I was not expecting this but...” Douglas stuttered out. Y/N looked up, shocked, wondering. What was he doing here? Why was he here? “Douglas... why... how... what are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here.”

Douglas just smiled at her. He heard her calling Dwayne, he noticed that his Y/N was not his Y/N anymore lately. He went to Dwayne, told him to stay away. Douglas knew, Dwayne was not whom Y/N really wanted. With his cute smirk he got closer to tell her....

“I am where I am supposed to be, here with you my love. It’s always been you that I loved and always will be.” After a few seconds Y/N replied “I love you too Douglas. I have for a very long time. I was just to afraid to tell you in case it ruined our friendship”

“Nothing will ever come between us baby. I promise from now on it’s me and you together. Always” Douglas said “Always” replied Y/N before she finally pulled Douglas down by the lapels of his suit jacket and kissed him like it was the last time she would ever get to kiss him.

#douglas hamilton #ncis nola #ncis new orleans #douglas hamilton x reader #mayor hamilton x reader #mayor douglas hamilton

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straynogoddstupid666 · 5 years ago

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2020.exe

•••••••••••

Smh can it get any sadder?

Prepare urself winter is among us

Getting older i contemplate

Where's thegaminglemon?

How long can u react Dwayne n jazz?

Oh shane u fell so low i pity u

Jj i miss the good ol days

Deji make up with ur kinfolk

Brothers shouldn't hv the animosity

Berlin what's for the Future?

Jeffree ur lacking on responses

Keemstar i was late on getting ur news

Swoozie imma miss ur story telling

Rest in piece etika tho i never knew thee

The culture getting restless

I couldn't bare what should i do

Whnn the old era replaces the new era?

10 yrs to go i down the bottle of regrets

YouTube getting scarce is there

anything to watch? Any at all?

I couldn't even ignore the foolishness

Of weakness and captivate

myself with The animeshon

Always hiding the fact that reality exist

2020 why u gotta kick me in the chest?

U make me wanna be a perfect man

But u kno constantly mistakes are made

I should rest but i feared death more

Than sleep deprivation i rather stress

But I'll risk more than i can take

My stress puts me in Limbo

Living off a fantasy darling

I hope u never cry for ur days off

Every minute u sit in slumber

I weep out in agony

Lets pretend for the day that dread

Never hits my face if it does

It shall be rain in my visions

In my dreams we stay in love forever

Let's hope we never die lover

There's a bunch of anomalies in thy head

I suffer the barrel to the noggin

I struggle for the eyes

to close permanently

and the doves never sing anymore

Sky loses its luster. Much like our happiness. Trapped eternally in a dance will we escaped the cycle.

I wish for better days inside my dreams. But when i wake up here it is reality, never to escape, Are we in a illusion?

Or are we all a fabrication?

I don't know anymore I'm losing consciousness to think

Much like it is to breathe to live. Some with you claimed that all of us has a meaning in life. But I sadly, digress.

I couldn't bear with it anymore, where shall we go from here? To the other side of the screen onto a better dimension none can harm us? I wake up thinking weird Fairyland thoughts

But I just, I just woke up in another nightmare.

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imaginenola · 6 years ago

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Young and Beautiful

Dwayne Pride x reader

Words: 2,154

Warnings: angst, pure sadness

Notes: loosely based on the song Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey. this is the first imagine I’ve ever written so it might not be the best. also big thank you to @dwaynepride for helping me make this account & story a reality! thanks for believing in me (: also the spaces might be a little wonky, sorry! I worked really hard on this so please don’t steal it, all work is my own. enjoy!!

I’ve seen the world, done it all

Had my cake now

Diamonds, brilliant, in Bel-Air now

When you interviewed for a job at NCIS in New Orleans, you were a young and eager cop. Only a few years out of the academy, you had made more cases than most could make in their entire career. Your boss and partner both pushed you to apply after you expressed interest in NCIS. A few days after your interview, you received a call from none other than Dwayne Pride. You had been chosen for his team.

Hot summer nights, mid July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you’d play with me like a child

It began with slight flirting, just for fun. You never meant to get involved with your boss, but things soon escalated. You were both experts at keeping your work and personal lives separate. You two weren’t partners anyway, so for the most part, it was easy to not let feelings get in the way of doing your jobs.

A few months in, Pride asked you out for drinks after work. The two of you made your way to a jazz club, where you drank and danced and drank some more. Pride twirled you around and around until you had no memories of what happened that night. The next morning, you woke up naked in your boss’s bed.

Will you still love me

When I’m no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?

Six months after that night, and you were still going steady with Pride. He was the perfect gentleman, and working together had only brought the two of you closer. You were only a few years older than his daughter, but he always made sure you knew that age wasn’t a problem between the two of you.

Your partner, Tammy Gregorio, kept telling you she ‘sensed’ that Pride was going to propose soon, but you weren’t so sure. Of course you had a strong bond and everyone believed you were a match made in heaven, but it made you nervous to think that you might have to leave the team. Sure, two co-workers dating could be overlooked, but married co-workers? Especially between an agent and their superior? You didn’t think so.

I’ve seen the world, lit it up

As my stage now

Channeling angels in a new age now

Hot summer days, rock and roll

The way you play for me at your show

And all the ways, I got to know

Your pretty face and electric soul

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, and you were out on a walk around New Orleans. You barely ever got a day off, but you made sure to enjoy it while you could. All of a sudden, you were being pushed into a black SUV, door locking behind you. You pulled your gun out of your holster until you recognized your captor: FBI Agent Isler.

“What do you want, Isler?” You asked, remaining calm and collected. You knew this man well, and you knew whatever it was he needed help with had to be important. Isler never dropped by just to say hello.

“Hello, Agent (y/l/n). The FBI needs your help on an undercover mission in Los Angeles. Once we get to the motel, I’ll give you the case file. It’s a highly classified operation involving corrupt Naval officers and a drug trafficking ring.” Isler said, shifting the car into drive. “Wait! Isler, I didn’t agree to this. Stop the car, now,” you demanded.

“I’m sorry, Agent (y/l/n), but you don’t really have a choice. This is a joint investigation between the FBI and NCIS, and you were picked by the big boys. I’m the only person in Louisiana who knows about this, and we’re keeping it that way.” You rode the rest of the drive in silence, until Isler parked in front of a decrepit motel on the outskirts of the city. The motel room was stale and unwashed, the air thick with swamp water.

“We’ll be staying here for a couple of days to prepare you for your mission. Once you step off that plane in Los Angeles, your undercover identity will be all you know. You will eat, sleep, and breathe this mission from start to finish, Agent (y/l/n).”

“How long do you think I’ll be gone?” You asked, afraid of the answer. Isler looked at the ground for a moment, then passed you a box of hair dye. Black. The girl on the picture seemed happy with her hair color, but you weren’t so sure.

Will you still love me

When I’m no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

I know that you will

Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?

“Hard to tell. Could just be a few months. Eight, maybe. Possibly a few years. Hopefully nothing more than five, six.” Five years? Six? You would be in your thirties by then. How different would things be? Pride might find someone else. Forget about you. The whole team would probably forget about you, by then.

“There’s one other thing,” Isler trails, “by now, your family and friends will be receiving the news of your gruesome death.”

Today was your last day in New Orleans, and you didn’t know for how long. After three days stuck in a hotel room with Raymond Isler, memorizing your new persona (Heather Watson from Montana, by the way), you were going stir-crazy. That was how you convinced him to let you attend your funeral. He thought you were crazy, you knew you were crazy, but Isler did feel bad. He knew about you and Pride’s relationship, and since he couldn’t give you Pride, the least he could do was give you closure.

The balcony of St. Patrick’s had been closed off due to unstable ground, but you arrived early in order to slip up to the balcony, lay on your stomach, and peer through the small slit under the bench. To your surprise, everyone you had ever worked with at NOPD and more had arrived. Friends from the academy flew in, and family members you hadn’t seen in years were there. You felt so, so horrible for tricking them like this. For this hole you had gotten into and you probably wouldn’t ever get out of. Six years undercover, living and breathing the life of someone you weren’t? You’d rather die, maybe. Rather die as yourself than live as Heather Watson. You only wished you could’ve said goodbye.

Dear lord, when I get to heaven

Please let me bring my man

When he comes tell me that you’ll let him in

Father tell me if you can

All that grace, all that body

All that face, makes me wanna party

He’s my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

You knew it was all over for you when Pride arose from his seat, wearing his black suit. You could see the tissue peeking out from his pocket, full of tears he cried for you. “(y/n) (y/l/n) was the strongest, most determined, an’ most loving human I have ever known. I knew she was the one from the day I laid eyes on her. I hope she knew how much I loved ‘er, and how much all of us at NCIS appreciated her. She’s always been a light-” Dwayne’s voice broke. The occasional tear spilled down his cheek. You could hear the desperation caught in his throat, the need to wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But as far as he knew, you would be six feet under in a few hours. A closed casket for the horrific boating accident you died in. Your limp body caught in the blades. They could barely piece your limbs back together.

“-I was plannin’ on proposing to her at dinner Sunday night. I had this diamond ring picked out, and now it’s just sittin’ in the box. I wished I could’ve said somethin’, wished I coulda saved her. She- she was tha love of my life, and I know she’d want us to remember her as a dedicated cop and a-a beautiful young woman who was gone- gone too-” Pride choked out, sobs overtaking his body. You could feel your heart breaking into microscopic pieces as Chris got up from his seat and assisted Dwayne. They sat down and Chris gave Pride’s shoulder a quick squeeze in solidarity. The rest of your team respectfully placed a hand on Dwayne’s back for his courage in facing your memory, your mourners. Your family, his future family. If only it hadn’t been for this goddamn mission.

Tears rolled down your face. Oh, how you missed the comfort of Dwayne’s arms wrapped around you when things got tough, when you became sad and he was the only one who could help. Now, even less than a hundred feet apart, it felt like there were planets between you. He was going to propose? Tammy had been right all along.

Your silent sobs combined with your uncomfortably warm outfit and position in the hot balcony suddenly prompted your exit. It was easy to slip out of the church unnoticed as your sibling gave a heartwarming speech about your childhood. Isler was sitting in his car in the parking lot, working on his computer, when you knocked on the window. He unlocked the door and let you in. “How was it?” He asked without looking up. “I shouldn’t have gone. Big mistake. Pride was supposed to propose to me that night. This is sick, Isler. Everyone thinks I’m dead. I might as well be, for what it’s worth,” you fumed, tears clouding your vision. You weren’t thinking straight.

“We’re going to have to drive to a more concealed position. I just have to get a few more papers emailed from HQ and we’ll be all set to head back to the motel. From there, I’ll drive you to MSY and you’ll get on your flight. Then, it’ll be out of my hands and into the hands of your new FBI case agent.”

You sat in the parking lot of an abandoned building. You knew it was near NCIS, which made it near Pride’s bar, which was where your reception was going to be held. The place you once dreamed of marrying Pride in, dancing to the jazz music as newlyweds. Now, it would never happen. You weren’t dumb; you knew with an undercover operation this long, it was likely someone would find out your secret and brutally murder you. As long as you got intel, that was all that mattered. No one cared if you were collateral damage.

Before either of you knew it, you were reaching across Isler at the speed of light and unlocking the passenger door. “(Y/n), wait!” Isler yelled, chasing you as you ran away from his car. Something told him where you would be heading.

Will you still love me

When I’m no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

When I’ve got nothing but my aching soul?

I know you will, I know you will

You knew the song, one of your favorites. It reminded you of your and Pride’s whirlwind relationship, of the appeal and the secrecy, the pure love and affection. Percy was singing, the only flaw in her beautiful voice being the rawness in her throat from crying. Pride was next to her on the piano, playing along what he knew from when you would sing with him. When you didn’t have a care in the world, when it was you and Dwayne and no one else. Nothing standing between your love for each other.

Suddenly, the music stops and people crowd around Pride’s piano. Laurel, your co-workers new and old, and your family stood behind Dwayne as he picked up his glass from the top of the piano, raising it as far as his arm could extend. You couldn’t see him, but you heard his voice ring out, “a toast to (y/n), tha best cop I’ve ever known. wherever you are, babe, I hope you’re raisin’ some hell.” to which everyone joined in, “cheers!” Tears fell down your face as you watched as Pride began your favorite song once again, reminding you how you fell in love with the man with an electric soul.

Will you still love me when I’m no longer beautiful?

Will you still love me when I’m not young and beautiful?

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