#Save From A Fly Ball | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaconnenha · 1 month

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⌇ WANNA BE A WINNER 𓄹

❪ ꕤ ❫───엔하이픈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍

OR. he is used to you chasing after him . . . so what happens when the tables are turned ? && crush!en- x f!reader % hc format ( jealousy, pet names, mention of food, kissing )

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 doesn't think twice when he sees you on the bleachers at his basketball game, because he's gotten so used to seeing you there, cheering him on whenever he scores and waving enthusiastically when he looks your way... only to find himself doing a double take when he notices you talking to the members of the opposition's team. stands there for a while with a tilted head as he wonders why it is you're giggling and twirling your hair, batting your eyelashes at whatever it was the guy was saying. and he really shouldn't have been so annoyed, seeing as you're free to talk to whoever you like... but for some reason, he finds himself purposely missing a shot and causing the ball to roll over to where you and your friends are sitting, just so he has an excuse to walk over there after your pick up the ball, before kissing you on the cheek as he takes ball back. "thanks, baby," he says, before walking away again.... but of course, not without one last cocky smirk to the other guy when he sees your flustered expression, and a promise to ask you out properly after he wins this game.

more under the cut !

𝐉𝐀𝐘, who has gotten used to seeing snacks on his desk along with little notes whenever he wakes up from his nap, feels like he's been thrown into an alternate universe when he looks up one day to find that his desk his completely empty. looks around, and asks his deskmate if you came by today, only for them to shake their head and say that they haven't seen you all day. doesn't think too much about it at first, thinking that you may be busy... only to notice that it continues a few days straight. decides to walk to your class one day, completely forgoing his usual nap, just to see if you're okay, because as much as he wouldn't admit it, anyone could tell he was worried about you. so imagine his surprise when he walks up behind you while you're talking to your friends, just to learn you've been doing it on purpose to make him miss you. crosses his arms and leans down to your ear with a smirk, causing your heart to fly out of your chest when you realise he was there all along. "okay, you win." because he really did miss you... maybe even more than you had planned.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 probably takes a while to figure out that you're avoiding him, but only because he genuinely believes you when you say you're busy when he asks why you can't make it to his soccer game. he knows that you have a life outside of school, so he can't feel upset... but everyone (his teammates, his friends, his coach, his neighbour, his dog...) notices that he is walking around the field like a depressed puppy whose owner doesn't want to play with him, and it's all because you're not in your usual seat, cheering him on while wearing his number like you usually do. and it makes him realise just how much you were becoming his lucky charm, just as you had boldly proclaimed you would be. and so that's how he finds himself waiting for you after you're finished your classes for the day, before wrapping his arms around you in a hug, not caring about the wolf whistles and the cheers coming from all the students and teachers who stood watching around you, or the way you stuttered his name in protest because of how he was acting in public... all he could think about was how he was a fool for not making you his to begin with.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 can't remember when you haven't been next to him. from the first day of school, you were the one beside him, helping him in class whenever he had to catch up on work that he missed because of his figure skating career, saving him a seat on the bus because you knew he would always end up being five minutes late out of class. so when he comes back from a week off from school, he is visibly taken aback when you walk in and take a seat at the front of the classroom, next to some other guy who he didn't even know existed until now. doesn't buy it for a second when his new seatmate explains that you had to switch because you had trouble seeing, and burns holes into the back of your head for the entire lesson, intensifying his glare when you and your new seatmate are a tad too close for comfort, heads bumping against each other as you whisper about the answers to the questions, like you used to do with sunghoon. can't seem to catch you alone for the rest of the day, so he waits for the end of the day, when you guys catch the bus together, and makes sure that he gets there before you do... so that when you try and sit next to someone else, he pulls you down in the seat he saved next to him, before leaning his head on your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your smaller one. "stay here, please..." because you’re the only one he wants beside him, and he wants to be the only one next to you.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 knows immediately that something isn't right when you don't ask for his help with your club projects. being in the photography club, you love to remind him how he is your favourite model, and you make it painfully obvious whenever you beg him to let you take his pictures. imagine his surprise and offense when you no longer seek him out first, but some other guy in a different class, who you keep positing pictures of on the school newsletter, where you used to post his pictures instead. he instantly makes a plan to win you back and become your favourite once again, even going as far as to rock up to school the next day with blonde hair that makes everyone stop and stare... except you, the person who is usually the first to jump on the train of people to praise him. he realises at that moment that this goes beyond just his pride; he genuinely just wants to be able to make you smile like before. so imagine your surprise when you open the newsletter for the next week, to find a candid photo of you looking at your camera, hair blowing in the wind and a smile on your face, with the caption "prettiest girl in our grade" followed by, "taken by kim sunoo".

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 does not beat around the bush. so the first time you walk by him in the hallway without so much as uttering a "hi," he immediately knows he needs to confront you about it, because not a single day has passed in the time that you've known each other where you haven't jumped on him (figuratively, of course) whenever the chance arises so you can chat his ear off about something or other. and he doesn't like the feeling he gets seeing you give him the cold shoulder for reasons he has no idea about. so the next time you pass him by without saying anything, he's grabbing your wrist and tugging you down the hallway, ignoring the squeals from your friends as he pulls you into the janitor's closet. "why are you avoiding me?" he demands, frowning. but then the two of you are rendered blushing incoherent messes when you try to escape the room... only to trip on your own two feet and fall into his arms, your lips bumping against each other in the process. (but even though it's an accident, jungwon thinks that he really likes this feeling alot.)

𝐍𝐈-𝐊𝐈 is an absolute menace, and you are probably one of the only people in the world other than his mother that can put up with him. it really surprises people to see you follow him around, cooking him bentos and fixing his tie for him because he always fails at doing it himself, only to find out that you're not his girlfriend. ni-ki himself probably doesn't even realise how much you've been taking care of him until you stop showing your face around his classroom at lunch, and no longer nag him about his uniform or his hair being messy. instead, he's left to watch as you turn around whenever you see him, purposely changing paths so you don't bump into each other. no one is surprised when he jumps over a fence just so he can catch up to you after you try to run away after making eye contact with him for the hundredth time. you end up blurting your feelings for him before he can ask, and while you brace yourself for rejection, he's already kissing you like he hasn't seen you for months... and wondering why he never did it sooner.

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verstappen-cult · 2 months

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# WAVE OF YOU | CL16

Charles is spending summer in Australia with his friends when he meets a very pretty girl and her dog at the beach.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader Content Warnings: A little meet-cute, just pure fluff! And Pierre being a menace for like a second.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : i saw the video and an idea popped into my mind, you can’t blame me for being weak. this is just a little silly meet-cute because your girl can’t stop thinking about surfer!charles. save me surfer!charles, save me !! i’m thinking about turning this into a series, would you like that?

You never thought you’d be living in Australia in your twenties. You honestly never thought about leaving your hometown to follow your dreams. Yet, here you are, sitting on the sand on a quiet morning, playing with the golden retriever you adopted two weeks ago. She comes running back to you, leaving the tennis ball at your feet and sitting, patiently waiting for you to throw the ball again.

“You never get tired, uh?” She tilts her head, tongue out and breathing heavily. You throw the ball into the water and she immediately runs back for it.

You take the opportunity to look around. It’s still a little early so there aren’t many people, a few people walking their dogs or running, a few surfers and a group of girls a few meters away. You notice that they can’t stop looking at the group of boys in the water trying to catch waves. It’s funny, because you used to be exactly like them when you were a teen.

They’re talking and — despite knowing you shouldn’t — you pay close attention to what they’re saying.

“Last week he smiled at me, I swear!” One of them says, twirling her hair while still straight ahead.

“They’re so hot.” You try not to laugh, hiding a smile by turning your head around.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen the group of boys, but it is the first time that you pay attention to what people actually say about them, and that makes you a little bit curious.

There are five guys in the water, two of them are sitting on their surfboard talking while the other two chase waves. You notice that the fifth guy is actually getting out of the water, blue surfboard under his right arm as he looks at the dog looking up at him and wagging its tail. Your dog.

“Daisy!” You call her but she doesn’t move, she just looks at you from her spot next to the man. You get up and start walking towards her when the stranger looks up at you. And you stop breathing for a second, face turning pink as you feel bright, green eyes boring into you.

You agree with the teenage girls about them being hot because this man is definitely very attractive. He’s wearing a black wetsuit, you notice as he runs his hand through his messy, wet, brown hair. He’s also smiling. At you.

He crouches to unhook the surfboard’s leash from his ankle, leaving it aside, and pets Daisy behind her ears. She closes her eyes and moves closer to the stranger. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you again, still smiling.

“Hey, Daisy? You wanna play?” He has an accent that makes you weak in the knees. The stranger takes Daisy’s ball from between her paws and throws it a few meters away, and she immediately runs back for it. “She’s cute.” You’re very cute, he thinks.

You smile because you don’t know what else to do, still very much feeling frozen in place.

“I’m Charles, nice to meet you.” The stranger—Charles reaches out a hand, you look at it for a beat before taking it gently to shake. If you feel sparks flying, nobody needs to know that.

You swallow, trying to find your voice before the cute guy thinks you’re weird. “I’m Y/N and,” You feel Daisy’s nose nudging at your leg. “this is Daisy.” You say, looking down at her.

Charles crouches back down to take the ball again, this time not breaking eye contact, and throws it into the water. You feel yourself blushing — again !! — under his intense gaze. You also feel your insides burning and going crazy with butterflies. You curse under your breath because what is wrong with you?

“You come here often?” He cringes after saying that and you’re pretty sure you see a faint blush adorning his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Oh, I adopted her two weeks ago, so we're pretty new to the beach.” You explain, looking over his shoulder at your little golden playing in the water. You’re gonna have one hell of a time trying to get rid of the salt water and sand of her hair.

He smiles again and what the hell? He has dimples?

“You’re not from here, right? I can hear a little accent…” He blurts out, massaging his neck in a nervous manner.

“I just moved here a few months ago.” You laugh, fidgeting with your fingers. “I can say the same thing about you.”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m from Monaco. I’m visiting a friend for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” When Daisy comes running back, you’re quick to pick up the ball — to have something to do besides looking at his pretty green eyes — and throw it farther just because it’s good that she’s running and having fun, definitely not because you want to keep talking with Charles.

“What brought you to Australia?” Charles asks, like he's genuinely interested.

“It’s silly, really.” You break eye contact after what feels like an eternity looking into his eyes. “I just wanted to see more of the world. I’ve been traveling for the past two years but I feel like it’s time to settle down somewhere.” Charles nods along, listening to every word. “I don’t know if Australia is the place for me but,” You shrug. You’ve grown and gained experiences, you’ve traveled to places you never thought you’d visit; you are happy with your life. You want to experience a different kind of thing now. “so far I like it here.”

“That’s awesome!” Charles has traveled the world too, but he doesn’t see himself leaving Monaco and his family. But he understands the desire to see new places and discover new cultures.

“Charlie!”

You both turn your head around to see the boys he was surfing with coming out of the water.

“Those are my friends. I’m sorry for whatever they’re going to say.”

You laugh, whispering a ‘don’t worry’ just before you’re joined by the four guys.

“Oi, who’s this?” A dark-haired guy asks, crouching to pet Daisy.

“That’s Daisy,” Charles answers before moving to stand beside you. “and this is Y/N.”

The four boys look between you and Charles in silence, then they’re all waving at you.

Charles leans a little closer, and you hold your breath. “That’s Dani,” He points to the same guy who asked about Daisy. Then he points to a curly-haired boy wearing a pair of pink shorts. “that one is Lando and the one next to him is Max.”

“So, how do you find my boy Charles here?” A guy with French accent teases you.

“And that’s Pierre. Don’t listen to him.” Charles sends death glares at his friend, who just holds his palms up in surrender and grins.

“We need to go,” Lando or Max? says, looking at his friend with pity and mouthing a ‘sorry’.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N!” All of them say, making you laugh. You wave at them.

Then, you and Charles are alone again, Daisy lying on the sand in front of you.

“So,” Charles starts, fighting really hard not to look at your lips. He does a very poor job because you notice anyway, and of course you can’t help but wet your lips. Well, you have to do something, you’re probably not gonna see him again. “I have to go. But it was nice chatting with you.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his bicep and squeezing. And God, okay, he’s actually fit, fit.

“It was nice meeting you, Charlie.”

Charles smirks, winking. Or at least trying to before grabbing his surfboard and walking away, it takes you a great effort to not turn around.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You’re just a girl.

Charles is walking backwards, a bright smile dancing on his lips.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

You try not to show how much effect his words have on you. “I don’t know,” You shrug. Playing hard to get now, really? “Come and you’ll see.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

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Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #drabble #headcanon #somewhat based on real events #university of Utah lacrosse team I hope you won whatever games you flew here to play on Easter weekend

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zyafics · 2 months

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brother's rival (part one)

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary you and your brother were born pogues, but once your family made enough to move to figure eight, you became a kook. unfortunately, rafe cameron doesn't welcome pogue-born kooks. it doesn't help that your brother is determined to steal the 'king of kooks' title from him. so, if your brother is trying to steal something from him, rafe is going to return the favor.

content series, 18+, smut

"Do you think Kooks actually enjoy this or is this something they do to uphold their image?" You ask your brother, Dean, who swings his golf club, hitting the ball square in the center, and sends the small circular object flying across the land.

He turns back to face you once the ball settles on the grass. His golf club digging into the ground, his arm pressed against the handle. "It's probably an ego thing."

You snort. "If I had to wear this everyday, it would not be an ego thing."

You glance down at your outfit: a simple tennis skirt and top. Since your family moved to Figure Eight a couple months ago, you were also granted access to the prestigious Country Club that sits on the rich side of the island. You and your brother haven't attended any of the events, due to your status as a Pogue-born Kook, but since the summertime rolled around and there's absolutely nothing to do on Figure Eight in the daylight, you two decided to take a little trip.

To get into the role of Kook, both of you decided to wear what the Kooks normally wear. Trading your Pogue attires for tennis skirts, khaki pants, and polo shirts, the two of you almost look the part.

But you still stand out.

"You're next." Your brother tips his golf club in the direction of where he hits his ball. You groan, stepping up to the tee stand where Dean replaced another golf ball for you to swing (and miss). You don't like golfing, you decided, wanting to trade in the Kook uniforms and stuck-up memberships for surfboards and high waves. Unfortunately, your brother does, and he wants to stay.

Not wanting to embarrass yourself, you try to mimic the stance your brother had a few moments ago. You pull yourself into the position, bending slightly over as the end of the club lines in front of the ball.

"You should bend down lower!" A voice shouts and you roll your eyes, knowing exactly who it belongs to. Your head lifts up to see Rafe approaching you, holding his own golf club with a personal caddy following after him from a safe distance.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see your brother's demeanor completely change. His expression pulled taut, his shoulders stiffen, his jaw locked.

Your brother and Rafe do not have a good relationship. Well, if you could even call it a relationship.

You and Dean moved here a couple of months ago. Born and raised on The Cut, your family finally made and saved enough to move you away from a life of poverty and crime to a nice, suburban home on Figure Eight.

However, it wasn't done without a cold welcome. Most of the Kooks don't like you nor your brother. You don't know if it's because you used to be a Pogue or because Rafe Cameron doesn't like the idea of Pogues moving into Kook territory—and made sure everyone followed along—but either way, it caused your experience on Figure Eight to be an unpleasant one.

For the first month, Rafe would send occasional 'gifts' to your door to remind you and your brother of your place. At parties, he would also make sure to let you and your brother know you're not welcomed. He even made a point to throw the keys of his truck to Dean's face, telling him to go do a beer run, and threw some cash alongside as payment. In the heat of the moment, Dean had enough and lost his shit. He swung at Rafe and Rafe swung back.

You had to pull your brother off of Rafe as the Kook King yelled profanities at your brother, blood dripping down his chin, telling him about how he would get him back.

From that point on, it was nonstop rivalry. Whenever they were in the same vicinity, they would either exchange verbal spats or physical altercations. You had to momentarily stop attending any parties because you couldn't handle the possibility of fights.

You didn't want today to be another one.

Dean steps in front of you as Rafe approaches, making sure to block his view from you. The golf club stands between them. "What do you want, Cameron?"

"Just trying to give your sister some advice." Rafe responds with a cocky smile. He raises his own golf club and places the end of the head against Dean's chest. "I didn't know busboys got to play. Must be why this place is going to shit."

You can see the anger rolling off your brother, his hand clenched around the handle of his golf club, causing his knuckles to grow white. Before he does something that would cause the both of you to get in trouble, you step forward, grabbing his forearm.

"Go away, Rafe." You declare, causing the blond to shift his attention from your glaring brother to you. His blue eyes give you a once-over, lingering a little longer at the cutoff of your skirt, before meeting your gaze. "If you think this place is shit, then find another place to play."

"And let a couple of Pogues kick me out of my Country Club?" He declares, twisting his expression in a manner that looks disgusted at the idea before shaking his head with a click of his tongue. "I don't think so, princess."

You hate the nickname that he gave you. It's always in mocking. Since you and your brother arrived at Figure Eight, according to Rafe, Dean has been slowly encroaching on Rafe's territory. Trying to take the crown of King of Kooks from him. This, in turn, caused Rafe to cast you in a secondary role. A mocking declaration of princess as in you will never be one.

You just roll your eyes at him, but you can't help the flutter of warmth that settles on the bottom of your stomach.

"Fuck off, Cameron." Dean declares, his tone laced with aggression, as he steps forward to place some distance between you and the blond. "This place is huge. I'm sure you can find some place where you don't have to see us."

Rafe hums in thought. "That's the thing," he points to the space you and your brother occupies. "What if I want this spot? I'm sure it won't be a problem for you to move." He glances at you and winks. "She can stay. I'm sure she'll be entertaining."

It doesn't take a second later before your brother swings. His fist delivers a satisfying crack against Rafe's jaw, causing him to stubble back a few steps. But, he quickly regains footing. His expression morphs into a deadly one, coming back around and raising his fist to deliver a punch to your own brother before you pull Dean away—stepping in front of him.

"Enough." You declare, clenching down your jaw, in preparation for the blow that never came. Rafe stopped himself a few inches away from your face. But, you don't let that fear show. "We'll move. You can have your fucking game."

With that, you drag your brother and your things away. You don't bother turning around, but you can feel the heat of Rafe's stare in the back of your head, following your every move, until you disappear from his sight.

—

“I’m going to grab something to eat.” You say to your brother, who merely hums in acknowledgement. He’s still a bit pissed off that you stepped in between Rafe and him. But, what else were you supposed to do? You are trying to get situated in this new environment, this new place where everything is a hostile territory. You didn’t want any more trouble that came from it. Yeah, you admit, it was a bit short-sighted of you to step in because you could’ve gotten hurt but fuck him, at least you did something more productive than swinging fists.

You head away from the golf course to the restaurant at the Country Club. You still can't believe you are here. If you had told yourself a year ago that you would’ve be living on Figure Eight, playing golf on the rich side of the island, you would probably laugh and take your drink from you. But, it's true.

You're a Kook.

Well, by classification, but you don't feel like it.

You don't, technically, feel like a Pogue either.

You're just oddly stuck in the middle. You don't know what to make of it. All you want to do is just have fun, live, and not cause any more trouble.

Unfortunately, trouble finds you. As you place your order and wait, leaning against the bar counter and tapping your nails against the granite, a body slides into the space next to you, large and towering. In the corner of your eyes, you catch him playing with the small plastic menu display set on the counter and pick it up with one hand.

He leans against you, pointing to the menu. “What are we ordering, princess?”

You turn your head to face Rafe. “I don’t know. What do assholes eat in their free-time?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

“What you’re offering.” He’s watching you as if you are part of the specials. The heat of his gaze feels like it’s undressing you, that it makes you shift your own, tapping the menu in his hand to draw his attention back.

“On the menu, Rafe.”

“Nah.” He abandons the plastic menu on the counter, turning his body completely to face you. His elbow pressed against the counter. “I’m craving something else.”

You swallow hard, looking over to the waitstaff behind the counter, wondering whenthey’re going to be finished with your burger so you can leave.

You know Rafe is only messing with you because it gets to your brother. It’s known on the island that Dean is protective of his little sister, sometimes too much, that Rafe takes advantage of this fact.

Standing here, near Rafe, is dangerous. Not to mention your brother could come over at any time and check up on you, but because, if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t share the same spite and hatred Dean has with the blond.

You’re not sure if you share any of it.

You just think all of it is stupid.

“Speechless now?” He teases, leaning enough where you can catch the scent of his cologne and the woodsy odor from golfing all day. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

You don’t answer him, deciding that the best thing you can do right now is ignore him.

That’s proven to be bad advice because, not moments later, you feel rough fingers grab your chin and force you to turn to Rafe. His eyes are piercing, his gaze studying every little detail of your face as you tried yourhardest to remain unfazed by his presence.

“Ignoring me?” He asks softly, his sight dropping to your lips as he runs the pad of his thumb across the soft plump of your bottom lip. They unconsciously part, just as Rafe’s eyes drift back up to yours. His voice in a mere whisper. “You know I don’t like that.”

Your heart skips a beat and your legs grow weak, barely able to keep you upright. You fight against the instinct to lean into his hand, to take his thumb that lingers on your entrance, into your mouth and suck, but it’s difficult.

He chuckles, watching the internal battle you’re having with yourself, lowering to your height. “You want me badly, do you, princess?”

For a blink of sobriety, you raise your hand to grab his wrist, pulling him off of you, from feeling every little twitch of muscle that changes under his touch, and rolls your eyes. You throw his hand back at him. “You wish.”

The waiter returns with a box of your food and you thank them with a tip, about to grab the to-go box off the counter when Rafe beats you to it. He grabs a hold of your food and raises it just out of your reach.

You glare at him. “Give it back, Rafe.”

“Give me your number.”

You are taken back by that. “What?”

“Give me your number.” He repeats, his determination set on his face as he waits for you to answer. “Or, do you want me to beg for it?”

The sight of Rafe on his knees is not unappealing, but you rather not have another image of him doing something that would return when your hands are between your legs. Instead, you settle on something equally humiliating for him. “Say please.”

He looks at you, bewildered, and scoffs. “I’m not doing that.”

“Then you’re not getting my number.”

“You forget I have your food.”

“You forget I have money now,” you pull out your credit card. “I can order another one.”

His jaw clenches, and for the first time, Rafe Cameron is backed into a corner he doesn’t know how to escape from. With a resigned sigh, he says, reluctantly, “please.”

“I need more enthusiasm.”

He cuts a dark look at you. “Don’t push it, princess.”

You laugh, before holding out your palm. His free hand finds his phone in his back pocket and offers it to you. You easily type the digits, add your contact to his phone and quickly send a text to yourself to remember the number. When you return your phone back to him, he exchanges it for your food.

When you’re about to head back to your brother, you hear Rafe shout behind you, “I’ll text you.”

Suppressing a grin, even though he can’t see you, you throw your response over your shoulder. “I might answer.”

★ part two ★

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some-bunniii · 2 months

Text

My Charming Red Savior [4]

・❥ A friend revealed, and warm feelings.

x: pronouns are she/her. no use of y/n.

xx: decided to change the saving fem!reader to its AO3 title, so all parts of this fic have been updated for this change as well!

~6.8k words

warnings: depictions of blood/injury

“Did I miss anything?”

Those were the first words the King of Hell had spoken atop the large patio, as you stood in awe, battered, with dust and debris sticking to your body. You blinked, frozen in place as your eyes scanned over the pearlescent man’s figure, who grinned charmingly across from you.

He leaned lazily against the gold railing, now partially destroyed from the small explosions that had peppered the front of the hotel. The screams and snarls from below were all but silenced now, except for one or two stragglers who could be seen making a run for it in the distance. But, not before a large, swamp-green tentacle snaked around them, and began beating them into the ground. It wasn’t long before your gaze was back on Lucifer, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It wasn’t until Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly at your silent staring, did he clear his throat, nervously tapping against the apple-tipped cane in his grip. “You look a little shaken up, are you doing good over there?”

You were about to open your mouth to speak, until your eyes darted to another small, cylindrical object flying right towards Lucifer. You recoiled, throwing your hands in front of your face as it closed in on the fallen angel.

“Watch out!” You cried to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited for the familiar boom of the grenade to shake the patio. Lucifer whipped his head around, eyebrows raised as the grenade soared towards him. Lifting his arm, he caught it in his hand before it could hit him in the face, before raising it to get a closer look.

You splayed your fingers, peeking through the small gap when you realized once more that your heart was still beating. Raising an eyebrow, your face contorted into surprise as your gaze rested on the object in Lucifer’s hand.

The bomb ticked quietly in his palm, slowly increasing in speed as the seconds went by. It vibrated in his grip, and Lucifer only inspected it casually, rolling it between his fingers with interest.

Was he just going to hold it until it exploded? You watched silently with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. If it went off, would the King of Hell even have a scratch on him? Maybe, that was why he seemed so confident holding a bomb in his hands. Watching Lucifer catch it casually in the air a few times only cemented that thought.

The perks of being immortal, you supposed.

“Hm, seems they got the timing off on this one,” Lucifer observed, just as the ticking seemed to increase to every millisecond. Right when you were sure it was about to go off in his palms, Lucifer’s fingers curled around it. It looked like he was squeezing the cylinder like a balloon, as the black, metal surface contorted, shifting from the pressure.

Instead of lighting into a ball of flame, the bomb exploded in a burst of multi-colored confetti. Which sprayed across the patio, a few stray pieces landing on your face as they settled onto the floor. You were silent, in awe at the magical display. Lucifer only grinned at you, a silent boast of his powers as he caught you gawking. He adjusted his collar, still leaning against the railing as he brushed some confetti from his shoulder pads.

Realizing he had noticed your staring, your cheeks began to heat in embarrassment. You lay your eyes for the first time on the most powerful man in Hell and all you can do is stand there and look dumb, get it together! Leaning forward, your head practically hits the cracked tile flooring as you bow.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness!” You quickly pipe up, your eyes still locked to the floor as you keep your head down, “Thank you for saving my life, I don’t know if I’d be alive without your intervention.”

“It was no biggie.” Lucifer shrugged, waving his hand in the air in a sweeping motion, as he brushed off your compliment. He lifted himself from the railing, taking a few steps forward as he began to cross the patio. “Can’t have my daughter’s friends be attacked by a couple of low-life thugs.. again! What kind of a father would that make me?”

You straightened, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your brows furrowed as the words left his lips, mouth opening slightly as if you were about to question him on his statement.

‘Daughter’. Was he talking about Charlie? Of course, he must be, she looked like a carbon copy of him! But, that would mean… it wasn't an imp that had approached you yesterday morning during your shift. At least, not any normal imp. Does that mean you had been talking to…?

It was in the same instance that Lucifer leaned in closer to you, his eyes squinted in thought as he inspected your face. He placed a finger on his chin in thought, as he regarded you with a curious expression through those soft, yellow eyes of his.

“Wait a second… do I know you from somewhere?” He questioned finally, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. You smiled as you thought of a response, your hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Lucifer’s eyes lit up in recognition before you could say anything, and he snapped his finger as connected the dots.

“That's right! You were that sweet worker at the formalwear store yesterday, weren’t you? The one that opened early for me!” He beamed, taking another step closer as your eyes widened at the proximity.

“Y-yes, that was me, Your Majesty.” You stammered out, cursing yourself so being so godamn nervous. “Except, I wasn’t really aware that you were... well, you?”

“Oh, heh, yeah, my impish disguise. Pretty good, eh?”

Yeah, it was. There wasn’t anything that would have made you guess that imp was actually Lucifer, at least before you had met the man. Except, for the height. That hadn’t seemed to change between the two appearances, as you still had to lower your head to meet his gaze even now.

You took a deep breath, calming your jittering nerves as you again realized who was standing right in front of you. Never once did you think a lowly citizen of Hell like you would be this close to the Lucifer Morningstar! Should you have kneeled instead when you greeted him? What was the proper etiquette for this kind of thing? Alastor would have surely known.

That thought made you lean over slightly to get a peek past the fallen angel’s brimmed hat. Your eyes followed the slender, shadowy forms of tentacles snaking around the last two criminals, who were trying to shoot the large masses.

“Aren’t you, um, going to go help..?” You pointed behind him, and Lucifer turned to follow your finger just as another thug was flung past the large fence that surrounded the hotel. Their squeal of fear faded as they disappeared from view. Static-laced laughter filled the air as the tentacles began to dissipate.

“Nah, I think your… friend down there has it covered.” Lucifer shrugged after a moment, turning back to face you.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm your jittering nerves. Between last night and this, you were about ready to lay in your bed and hibernate for the next three months. Life was exhausting, it seemed.

“Well, that was fun!” Lucifer smiled, nodding along as he clasped his hands together. “Didn’t think I’d find drug dealers trying to knock down the walls, though. Looks like I really have to up the security around here.”

You nodded along half-heartedly, and watched as he strolled past you towards the door. He only made it a few steps before he halted, and you jumped slightly as he pivoted to face you. He waggled a finger at you, mock suspicion in his gaze as he leaned in. Now that you could get a better look at him,

“I also was not expecting to find you here, either. Only yesterday, it seemed like you had no idea the hotel even existed. Now, I find you in the raging path of a feral tea table. An odd turn of events, don't you think?”

You smiled, heat creeping onto your cheeks in embarrassment. You probably looked pretty pathetic when Lucifer was saving you, curled in a ball while you accepted your grim fate. You wished you had some kind of badass demon magic, so you didn’t have to be so helpless. Did Alastor ever feel helpless? No, probably not, he seemed so confident in every situation you saw him face.

The way he strolled down the stairs so casually when the thugs had first attacked, made it seem like he had done that kind of thing many times before. But, it seemed like that was true, since you patched up one scuffle on his coat, and were told of his encounter with Sir. Pentious–which you simply couldn't believe would attempt such a thing, now that you’ve met him–a few months prior.

You wondered what made him and Lucifer struggle to get along, had something happened in the past between them? Maybe, you could get Alastor to budge with that with a little prodding. For now, you were unsure of what to tell the King. How would he react if you said the only reason you were here was because of Alastor? You didn’t want to lose the friendliness you had with Lucifer, it probably wouldn't be fun to be on the King of Hell’s bad side.

Plus, it seemed like Lucifer liked you. Did that have something to do with the fact that he claimed you were a ‘rare gem’ when it came to being a nice person in Hell? He did give you all that money.. which you lost. Maybe, he’d give you some more if you played your cards right.

And, if it was as friends, you wouldn’t mind getting closer to the fallen angel. He was just so funny and charming, you couldn’t imagine the kind of gossip he had to share, and you wouldn't be bothered if he shared it with you.

“Oh, well, beeeecause I was interested in redemption! Ha-ha, yeah. When we talked earlier, your words just struck something in me! So, I took a tour and stayed the night.”

“Really? I inspired you to come to the hotel?” Lucifer asked incredulously, tilting his head thoughtfully at you. He raised an eyebrow, doubt written across his features.

“That’s right! I mean, you even gave me a bunch of money like it was no big deal. That was very kind of you!” You nodded enthusiastically. That wasn’t exactly a lie, since the conversation with Lucifer yesterday did lead to Alastor revealing more about the hotel, which in turn piqued your interest enough to even consider staying for an extended period.

Slowly, Lucifer's eyes lit at your response, a gleam of happiness that you hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to be standing a little straighter too, as if that was some kind of confidence boost for him. Did Lucifer not… genuinely help people often? Was it something he wished he could do more often?

Seems like ruling a realm full of demons that continually commit the worst atrocities known to mankind would break an angel’s will to want to make a change.

“I wanted to thank you again for your generosity,” you started, your tone genuine as the glint in Lucifer’s eyes only seemed to grow, “All that money you gave me would have really helped,

“Would? What happened?” Lucifer inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“Some guy mugged me,” you stated bluntly, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. It felt weird telling people about your most vulnerable moments. You found no enjoyment in retelling any of these scary events, and hopefully, your bad luck would end soon.

“And they stole everything from you?”

“Yeah…”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, his teeth baring slightly as he exhaled a hot breath. He couldn’t exactly be surprised, it was Hell. Not to mention, the guy has been neglecting his kingly duties for a while now and has only just started going to meetings for crying out loud.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that. Here, let me jus–”

“Where did that new girl go? What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” You could hear Vaggie’s voice from downstairs, as the gaping hole in the side of the hotel made it much easier to hear their conversations now.

You heard multiple inaudible responses to the question, before Vaggie’s rose above them with renewed anger.

“She’s still up there?! you’re telling me none of you numbskulls went to get her after that big explosion?”

“₩Ⱨ₳₮?!” You heard a snarl of static at Vaggie’s words.

Tensing, you kept your eyes trained on Lucifer as you strained your ears to eavesdrop on the voices below. It seemed like they were looking for you now, did they even know whether Charlie’s dad was here?

“Alastor, hold up!” You heard Angel Dust’s call from the bottom of the staircase, which made you pivot to face the closed doors not too far away. Lucifer, who was standing a few steps away from you, looked up curiously as the doors swung open.

Standing there, chest heaving slightly, ears twitching, was Alastor. His eyes instantly landed on you, before quickly scanning over your figure for injuries. Did he just leap up all those stairs? That wasn’t a very short distance by any means.

His arms were outstretched beside him, as he gripped both doors. Alastor’s claws slightly dug into its wood frame as he observed the smoking, half-burnt balcony with a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t until his eyes met Lucifer’s–you swore you saw a flicker of surprise cross his gaze–that something seemed to flip like a switch inside the demon, and Alastor straightened instantly, his ears returning to their normal placement as corrected his posture.

A large, toothy grin appeared on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between you and Lucifer only a few feet apart. His eyelid twitched as Lucifer sent him a deadly grin behind you, the tension in the air thickening to the point where you felt like you’d suffocate even in this open space.

You only smiled brightly in return, sending Alastor a finger wave as you sidled a step away from the fallen angel beside you. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun as he pivoted slightly to face you. A mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head at Alastor, a haughty look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He feigned irritation, an eyebrow quirked as he sent the demon a pointed glance. As if Alastor had just barged in on the two of you deep in discussion, souring the mood.

Alastor wasn’t able to get a word out when multiple footsteps echoed from behind him, noisily clopping up the long staircase as they bickered amongst themselves. A familiar pink spider popped his head over Alastor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pearlescent face beside you. More heads appeared around, their eyes scanning across the balcony as they observed the scene.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, squeezing through the clump of nosy demons, surprise written across her face as she passed Alastor.

“Honey!” Lucifer beamed, a smile gracing his features as he met his daughter halfway. Charlie extended her arms, ready to accept Lucifer’s large hug as he returned the gesture. He held her for a moment before he released her, backing up a step as the others pushed past Alastor’s figure to get a better place behind the princess.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at that art auction?” Charlie questioned, tilting her head at him.

“That ended last night.” Lucifer nodded, “Now it’s some kind of celebratory artist-only afterparty, which means even the King of Hell cannot attend, unfortunately. So, I thought I’d drop by. Good timing, it seemed, or else your friend here would not be standing here any longer.”

Lucifer turned to you, gesturing to the dust and debris hanging to your clothes, as you stood there silently with that same awkward smile.

“Oh, yeah. She’s interested in being a resident of our hotel, for redemption!” Charlie smiled excitedly, proud to be able to show her father that her dream was slowly expanding. You nodded along, your hands clasped together politely as they discussed you.

“Yes, I heard! We’ve been having a nice discussion these past few minutes, her and I. A real doll, this one is, just like when I met her previously.”

“You two... have met before?” Charlie finally asked, confusion laced in her voice as she looked between the two of you. The demons behind you shot curious glances in your direction, silently waiting for more juicy details.

“She was there when I bought your tuxedo! I was in disguise, though, so nobody saw me as.. well, me. She even opened up early for me, just out of the kindness of her soul!” Lucifer scooted beside you, nudging you in the arm playfully as he spoke. “Guess you could say I owed her a rescue after that considerate gesture.”

“Did you throw a party up here, too?” Vaggie piped up from the doorway, kicking away at a few stray pieces of the colorful confetti that was sprinkled across the floor. Charlie’s eyes were glinting as she processed her father’s words, before glancing down at the new red suit that she was wearing. She looked up at you with renewed interest, a blooming on her face.

“That was all His Majesty, actually,” you finally spoke, lifting a hand to your mouth as you giggled, “It was pretty impressive, to be honest, I’ve never seen a party trick like that before. I thought the confetti was kinda funny.”

You purposely avoided looking at Alastor as you spoke, so his reaction to your praise was a mystery. Lucifer only smiled proudly beside you, your words boosting his ego.

“Well, that’s not the only trick I’m good at,” Lucifer chuckled. Before he sent you a wink, then a playful smirk that he swept across the small crowd. Their eyes were locked on him, captivated with anticipation for the charming angel to display some of his magical talents.

Except, for Alastor, who only smiled widely, his eyes crinkled in annoyance at the theatrics. You didn’t pay him much mind, instead keeping your attention on Lucifer. During your time in Hell, you hadn’t come into contact with many figures that could harness demonic magic so effortlessly, apart from Alastor.

The King of Hell, however, was on a whole different level, he had pure angelic power. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you were not going to miss this for anything. However, it seemed your admiration was a little too evident, as you missed Alastor's squinted gaze analyzing your expression.

Lucifer finally rested his gaze on Alastor, who met his eyes, just as he tapped his cane against the ground, a flurry of golden sparks igniting from the touch. a vortex of golden eaves began to swirl around his cane, before flooding across the destroyed, cracked floor of the balcony. It was like a small ocean pooling at your feet, and it felt like the ground was shifting underneath you.

Sticking a finger gun towards the split table, Lucifer shot an explosion of magic against its surface, and it crackled with energy. Before you could blink, the two pieces slid together, attaching like Lego pieces back onto their legs. Fresh color adorned the wood, a lovely shade of peach with matching chairs. It settled onto the ground, with not even a scratch from the abuse it had just received.

He aimed a few more magical-loaded digits towards the broken railing, and the spilled flower pots, making pew pew sound effects with his mouth as he did so.

The balcony began to shift back into even better condition than it originally was, the broken scenery straightening itself back into form. Slowly, the golden waves against your ankles dispersed and were pulled back into Lucifer’s cane.

The large, white marble tile beneath your feet was perfectly sealed, not a single crack upon its surface as it sparkled with a newfound shine. You lifted your leg, surprised finding your figure to be completely dry.

The demons around you stood mesmerized by the display, their eyes glowing and lips puckered in a small o. Alastor only tapped his claws against his cane impatiently.

“How is that for a party trick?” Lucifer turned to you, sending you a charming grin.

You were about to open your mouth before Charlie appeared at your side with a happy squeak. Her blonde hair cascaded down your shoulder, the silky strands like feathers against your skin.

“Thank you for the help, Dad!” Charlie beamed, squeezing her cheeks as she stared lovingly at her father, “it’s so great to see you make new friends, too!”

“And, new clients!” Lucifer boasted, adjusting his bowtie with a grin “Last time we talked, I told her all about the hotel and what it offered. Seems like my salesmanship charm prevails once more.”

“How funny,” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as he strode up beside Charlie, planting himself into the small group’s discussion with a grin, “but it appears His Majesty is mistaken, for it was I who persuaded our darling belle here to take a chance at redemption.”

“Pfft! You? Please, you couldn’t even convince an angel to redeem themselves. At least, not with that haircut!” Lucifer laughed, and your mouth dropped open, your gaze flicking to Alastor, who seemed to hesitate for a moment in shock at the bold insult.

Your eyes darted to Charlie. She returned the look, before slapping a hand over her dad’s mouth.

“Okay, moving on!” She replied cheerfully, pinching her dad’s lips closed as she turned towards the staircase. Vaggie shot a glare toward the rest of the onlookers, who began to sadly shrink away.

“I’m afraid Your Majesty is uninformed!” Alastor ignored Charlie, as he walked closer to stand right beside you. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heartbeat quickening at the realization you were directly in the middle of the two dueling forces.

“Of what?” Lucifer questioned.

“Why, of our association, of course,” Alastor said sweetly, grasping your arm gently as he gestured to your figure. Heat crept onto your cheeks, as you let him slide in closer to you.

“You two know each other?” Lucifer asked, doubt laced in his face as he shot you a questioning stare. You only averted your gaze, unsure of how to respond to all of the prying eyes.

“Indeed! I’m sure you’re familiar with a charm like this?” Alastor smiled innocently, before gingerly holding out your hand, gesturing to your ring finger. That golden ring glinted in the sunlight, and the small rose-gold engraving of the letter A was on full display.

Lucifer’s eyes widened after a moment, and his gaze shot to you, then to Alastor, before landing back on the ring. He seemed to reel back slightly as it finally dawned on him, before his face settled into a look that silently grumbled ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

Charlie gasped, clutching her cheeks as she leaned in closer for a better look. The ecstatic look on her face was a complete inverse to her father, who only averted his gaze at the sight.

You stood with an awkward smile, heat creeping onto your cheeks as you sidled slightly away from Alastor. You did not expect him to be sprinting it back onto these guys, in front of Lucifer no less.

The King only turned to you, disbelief in his features as he sent you a pointed stare.

“You’re telling me you work at a formalwear store, and you picked a guy with this bad of a wardrobe?” He gestured subtly to Alastor’s suit, a grimace on his face as he eyed the demon’s style with contempt.

Alastor only adjusted his bow tie, throwing his hair back as he straightened. He shot you a pointed look too, prodding you with a ‘Are you really going to agree with him?’ stare.

You said nothing, so Alastor only turned to face Lucifer, clasping his hands with a large smile, “I’d take your fashion advice to heart, Your Majesty, but it seems your taste lies at the bottom of a bargain bin, so I must respectfully disagree.”

“Bargain bin?!” Lucifer gasped, a hand shooting up to his chest as he recoiled. A growl rose from the fallen angel’s throat as he opened his mouth to retort, only for Charlie to grab him from behind and pull him away from Alastor.

“I’ll pay you triple the amount from yesterday if you just take that ring off!” Lucifer begged as Charlie dragged him down the steps. “Do you fancy goat horns? I know of someone in the Wrath Ring that is available!”

The father-daughter duo disappeared from view, their voices muffled as you watched the doors slam shut with a crackle of green energy. Turning to face Alastor, you find a smug grin dancing on his lips. You frowned, did this guy really just insult the King of Hell like the man couldn’t stomp him in a moment?

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” you chastise the demon, waggling your finger as you spoke, “speaking so comfortably with the King in such a condescending manner. He could smite you for that, you know.”

“Verbal sparring with the monarchy is a favorite pastime of mine, sweetheart! I’m sure our dear king enjoys it just as much as I.” Alastor shrugged, twisting the cane between his claws as he regarded you with playful eyes.

“You are such a pain in my—”

Your words died in your throat when the outline of a dark-red rose was thrust towards you, Alastor’s fingers gently curled around its stem as he held it up for view.

“For you.” He smiled, his lips curled in a soft grin.

“Me? But, where did you get this?”

“Some bumbling oaf down there was going to stomp on it, so I stomped him, instead,” Alastor shrugged, extending the rose closer to you as he spoke, “I thought it would be something you’d find interest in. It… reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze lowering towards the wine-colored flower. It was beautiful, even with its slightly jagged petals, and the much larger thorns that covered the black stem.

But, for Hell, it was such a relieving sight. To know that something that presented emotions could exist in such an apathetic, pessimistic environment like the realm around you. Honestly, it didn’t have that many similarities in comparison to Earth’s rose, but its mere resemblance made nostalgia pull at your heartstrings.

Old emotions began to boil inside you, and your throat tightened. Even after all the hardships, you still missed the trees and the smell of real, fresh air. The feeling of the sun against your skin, kissing you with a warmth that always stirred a smile onto your lips. Hearing the morning doves in the early spring morning, their gentle coos echoing through the thin veil of fog that settled onto the dew-filled grass.

Now, you were stuck here. A dark, dirty realm that gave you its fair share of grief too. A lot in the span of two days, even. But, the good in it, was seeing the genuine smile that greeted you every time Alastor drank in your presence. Like this morning, when you agreed to join him on the patio, and the way his ears seemed to stand even taller when you said yes.

It was also the fact that Alastor was so intent on presenting this lovely gift to you, that he killed someone just so the rose would survive the chaos, that made you feel so warm and giddy inside.

A smile bloomed across your face, and you gently wrapped your fingers around the stem, right above Alastor’s own. The top of your hand grazed against the softer texture of the rose’s petals, but its sharp thorns nicked at the skin on your fingertips, causing you to grimace slightly. You adjusted your grip slowly, the pain ebbing as you found a comfortable hold.

Your hand brushed Alastor’s as he released his grip, pulling his hand towards him, his gaze traveling to your arm lifting as you inspected the rose closer. All the memories of long, forgotten experiences made years prick at your eyes.

“I.. don’t know what to say. This is so sweet of you,” you replied softly, eyes still locked on the rose and you gently caressed its petals, “thank you, Alastor.”

Alastor watched the emotion flood across your face, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to say next. The look on your features made him feel.. strange.

As if, this was a reaction nobody in Hell has ever given him before, excluding Charlie. It was fear and anger that only ever greeted him. Which he preferred, it made him feel strong, made him feel powerful.

Your soft, sweet smile, however, was something Alastor could get used to. The way the dimples on your cheeks deepened slightly as your lips curled delicately. As if you too were a rose, your petals softly opening for the new day.

His gaze still rested on you as the tip of your nose inched closer to the petals, before you inhaled a deep breath.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, but also with a warm, earthy scent. A hint of smokiness underneath the layer of the sugared aroma. It reminded you of a wood-burning stove, or the smell of firewood that clung to your shirt after a night in the wilderness.

But, also… the faint metallic tang of blood.

Brows furrowing, you pull the flower away, your eyes traveling to the barely visible glistening substance coating part of the stem. It almost mirrored the color of the dark-red petals, and you lifted your gaze to Alastor.

When your eyes traveled up his figure, it was the small trails of red liquid that dripped from his fingertips that made you recoil, a hand to your mouth as you gasped.

“Alastor, you’re bleeding!” The worry in your voice was obvious as you stepped closer to him, trying to get a better look at the small gashes on his skin. He regarded it with indifference, as if it was just a simple bother. You frowned at his reaction, there was no way that didn’t hurt!

He was a sinner, just like you, and almost everyone in the hotel. Mortality was still present in his afterlife, including the sensation of pain. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as a powerful being like Lucifer, he was still just a man who felt the same things you did. If not, with a little different... perspective.

“It is nothing, do not fret about me, my doe,” Alastor brushed off your words, beginning to pull his hand away from your view. You saw a drop of blood leave the tip of his claw, falling onto the cracks below your feet, “they are just feeble scratches, nothing I, the Radio Demon can’t handl–”

Alastor’s words died in his throat, the last of his sentence coming out in pure static as his pupils dilated on your hand wrapping around his wrist. Your grip was firm, preventing him from shielding the wounds from you, as you tugged his hand closer.

This was the boldest move you had made since the two of you had first met. It was usually Alastor who made the first gesture, who took your hand and touched you softly. As if you were a fragile doll that could crack at the teeniest bit of pressure.

The man was so used to control, having complete say in who touched him—which was never, unless you count Angel Dust whenever he tried riling up the demon—and why. If you were some normal face in the crowd making such a move, he’d probably have torn them apart.

But oh, the warmth from your touch that greeted his cool skin had him yearning for more. That blissful feeling that seemed to bloom from inside his bones, that traveled like a river through his veins, filling him up with a strange, yet awfully familiar feeling.

Like, when his mother would sit him down at the table for dinner, a bowl of hot, steaming Jambalaya in her hands that she made just for him. Anytime she noticed he had a hard day, she’d cook his favorite meal.

As a child, he had eagerly scarfed it down, impatient to fill his stomach with such a treat. When he grew older, however, he learned to slow down and savor the explosion of flavors that tickled his taste buds in every bite.

He remembered the way the delicacy traveled down his throat, and how it felt like a fire was igniting in his belly. The warmth emanating from your skin reminded him so much of that.

And that smile that always graced your features at the sight of him? Alastor remembered that from somewhere too. His mother’s lips always curved into a soft, gentle grin that would make anyone butter up in their presence.

Your lips seemed to curve just the same, and the demon was sure if the two of you would have met before the afterlife. His mother would have loved to meet you.

Alastor remained deathly silent, his muscles tense as you splayed out his claws, turning his hand over to have his palm face up. There was dried blood across the smooth skin, which meant he had been bleeding for a while now.

How hard was Alastor holding the rose during the fight that he cut up his hand like this? If it wasn’t for the bickering between him and Lucifer, you surely would have noticed it earlier.

Your fingers gently brushed against the small cuts, blood still slowly seeping from beneath the demon’s skin. You nudged his wound softly, inspecting it with worry.

“Does that hurt?” You asked softly with furrowed brows.

“Does it matter?” Alastor scoffed, averting your expectant gaze.

“Yes! It does, actually!” You retorted, before your gaze moved to your outfit with a determined look. Quickly, you reached down, taking a fistful of fabric in your grasp before pulling it hard. With some friction, it began to tear away from the rest of your garment.

Now, you had a large piece of cloth in one hand, and Alastor’s wrist in the other. Reaching forward, you began to cover his cuts tightly against the fabric.

“Must you ruin such a pretty outfit for something so insignificant like my hand?” Alastor inquired, exasperation lacing his voice, “You’re treating it like some kind of battle wound, I am fine, my doe.”

He didn’t pull away from you, however, as you finished patching up his injury. Inspecting his hand closer, you eyed work for a moment, before you shook your head, dissatisfied.

“I forbid you from doing any activities for the rest of today until you address your wounds,” you declared, crossing your arms sternly.

“Forbid?” He inquired, quirking a brow in amusement.

“That’s right! If you don’t take care of your injury, or let me do it for you, then I’ll have no choice but to put my foot down.”

Alastor squinted at you for a moment, that grin masking his thoughts as he regarded you. Was he going to argue? Sweat beaded on your forehead as you anticipated his answer. It wasn’t like you could exactly stop the powerful demon from doing what he wanted, but you also couldn't just let him strain his wound further because of pride.

Alastor didn’t argue. Instead, he simply shrugged, a pleased smile gracing his features. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, before holding a limp hand towards you.

“Well, if you insist,” he hummed, cracking one eye open to watch you expectantly.

“Really..?” You asked in disbelief, regarding his hand with suspicion.

“If the lady wishes to fuss over my health, I suppose I could heed her demands,” Alastor responded casually, lifting his hand closer towards you, “and, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”

You smiled playfully before slowly wrapping your fingers around the makeshift gauze, trying to get a good grip around his cuts as you held his hand.

“Is there somewhere I could get medical aid inside? Baindaids, alcohol solution… ibuprofen?”

Did Ibuprofen even exist down here? There had to be something similar at least, the Pride Ring was full of mortals that could still feel pain. Was Alastor in a lot of pain? Even if he was, you probably wouldn't get a straight answer from him.

Now, you understood why Alastor and Lucifer didn’t like each other. They were just fighting for who was really the embodiment of pride.

“Hm..” Alastor tilted his head in thought, before his ears twitched, and a sly smile graced his lips, “I do believe I know just the place!”

Without a word, he returned your grip and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched, your chest almost bumping against Alastor’s as he took your other hand. The two of you looked as if you were about to start a waltz, as the demon looked out towards the railing, his chest still facing yours as his smile grew.

“Hang on tight, my dear!” He stated chipperly, and you fastened your grip hastily. The air began to crackle with energy, goosebumps rippling across your skin as static seemed to tickle at your figure. Green smoke pooled at your feet, and that familiar tingling sensation overtook you, just like the first time you were teleported.

Alastor only pulled you closer right as the smoke blasted up, cold air hitting your face as you were pulled into darkness. The presence of the hand against yours was faint, but at least you weren't alone this time. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your heart racing as you waited to feel the floor against your feet once more. Then, you felt a thumb brush softly against your knuckles, it circled soothingly across your skin, and you relaxed slightly.

What felt like minutes really only took a couple of seconds, as you felt soft lighting hit your eyelids, and Alastor stir beside you. His hand didn’t leave yours, as he waited for you to join reality.

“Not so bad, hm?” He prodded you slightly, beckoning you back into reality.

Letting your pupils adjust to the light, the familiar wallpaper from the hotel corridor met your vision. Did he really just materialize the two of you across the building? You didn't have any problem walking, but perhaps Alastor was trying to avoid the small crowd that would have met them at the bottom of the patio stairs.

“I feel kind of queasy,” you responded, shaking your head of the fog in the back of your mind.

“After a few times through, it won’t bother you anymore,” Alastor assured.

Trying to get a better estimate of your location, you turned your head to one side of the hall, taking in the sight of a dark, oak door. The familiar numbering made you quirk a brow, tilting your head towards the smiling demon. He met your gaze, a soft, lipped smile on his face.

“We’re going in my room?”

“Not quite..” he hummed, gripping your shoulders and pivoting you to the opposite side. Your eyes widened, gaze locked onto the matching door of Alastor’s room.

You stayed silent, feet frozen in place as you watched him take a few steps, his good hand wrapping around the spherical doorhandle. Slowly, he twisted the knob until it clicked softly. The hinges creaked with age, and the hallway lights began to spill into the darkened room as the crack in the doorway widened.

You couldn’t see anything through the slightly opened entryway, but your heart quickened as the second passed by. Your eyes flicked up to Alastor, who regarded you curiously, his gaze gentle as your nerves began to display on your face.

“Ladies first!” He beamed, his smile an assurance to your heated skin.

He obviously wanted you to go inside, and part of your brain was nudging you forward with excitement. Alastor was inviting you into his quarters, he was allowing you to take a step inside his world, to get to know him!

The other part whispered hesitation. What lay behind that door? Surely, more than just medical supplies.

It was as if you wrapped a sheet around the reluctance that was beginning to plague your mind, stuffing it underneath the floorboards of your brain. You weren't going to let your flustered mind get the better of you, and have you miss such an opportunity to get closer to the charming demon.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you banished your nerves into the air. Straightening your back, you sent Alastor a warm smile and took a step forward.

wingman!lucifer anybody? ✋

let me know what you think! ☺️ comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @rayanicaraynbow @katiebwalczak03 @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @thenocturnalreadingotaku @just-here-reading @taintedgenre @fairyv-ice @aisling1985 @missam @funkyexistence @summerofregret@beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @karolinda007-blog @thehybridprincesshatedchild

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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on-leatheredwings · 3 months

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Co-Conspirator

Yandere! Bruce Wayne x Yandere! (Fem!) Reader

> romantic > summary: Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. > word count: 1285 > [ a/n: just something short, something cute, something for the Girls. i think mutually yandere relationships are a fun dynamic not very explored!!! Still, its pretty mild yandereism here. Trying to warm up to writing bitches who are Actual Freaks . uhhh lmk what you think. hope i communicated the reader's backstory well. the fact she's only a little crazy is amazing, all things considered. i'd love to make a whole fic of this but alas, i am Not Very Good At Plot]

You are dating Bruce Wayne. You bite your lip at the thought, hoping it disguises your shit-eating grin. You have been told you look like a total cheeseball when you daydream.

It’s a month-long relationship that’s still currently under the radar because you don’t have the luxury of a dual superhero-civilian persona. First, getting trapped in a pocket dimension for 10 years because something-something-Speedforce; next, being booted back into your home dimension and falling out the sky; then, wreaking havoc in Gotham City with your new, uncontrollable powers unmasked and in clear view of Gotham City choppers and news cameras… These things secretive identities do not make. No matter.

Hence why you tend to stay holed up in the Justice League’s Watchtower or your apartment, and rarely go out otherwise. But a month ago, you were bored. Neurotic. You decided to help your good buddy Batman. Fly to Gotham with your power and surprise him on patrol. And, well, you ended up saving Bruce Wayne (and hundreds of other socialites) after a three ton bowling ball careened into a gala at Wayne Tower, courtesy of the Riddler. Your telekinesis kept the whole building from collapsing. You guess that must’ve really turned Bruce Wayne on, because he was shortly afterwards chatting you up and won your phone number.

On your first date with Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, you blurt out, flustering, that you don’t want to overshadow his charity and all the good work he’s doing. Bruce Wayne dating anyone makes headlines – let alone a superhero. Yes, yes. You simply didn’t want to cramp Bruce Wayne’s philanthropic style. It wasn’t that you were utterly unprepared to have that level of media scrutiny on you and were insecure about dating a man completely out of your league.

Bruce thanked you for your concern and then kissed you deeply, expertly, for your trouble.

You replay that night’s events in your head, and– goddamnit– cheeseball. You clear your throat and clear your mind.

“I think I’ll want a copy of his birth certificate from Gotham General.”

You glance at Batman, who is seated beside you, and see the corner of his lips quirk.

“Because you’re going to pull up his birth chart.” Batman knows astrology is an enduring interest of yours. You pout, pulling up Gotham General’s files and sifting through the database.

“... Maybe.”

You pause from your search on one of the Justice League’s supercomputers, sneaking a sheepish glance at your co-conspirator. Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend.

You flush. “You know– I– Thanks, Bats. Really. I’m glad you aren’t acting all weird about this.”

Batman doesn’t say anything, but you know that he’s giving you his full attention.

“Like, I’m not a freak or anything. I just have to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” You puff your cheeks. “Know he’s… you know. Good.”

What a lie. You’re just scared and don’t want to get caught with your pants down. Despite being an actual living, breathing, metahuman and superhero… Bruce is the one with the power in this relationship. He’s… everything. Encapsulating. Towering. Anyone would want him. You think of the lingering looks very, very beautiful women give him. Everyone does want him.

You feel a pang of violent loathing and nausea that is tided over when Batman speaks.

“... I know plenty about Bruce Wayne. He’s… good.”

Your brows rise. You’ve only known the man for a few months but even you know that’s a glowing compliment coming from Batman. His highest praise on most people is usually neutral at best. “Hmm… okay.” You turn back to your work, laughing. “Well. I also just think he’s kind of interesting to learn about. What other celebrity has this much lore? The prodigal son… Prince of Gotham… Collector of orphans… Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor...”

You worry your lip, gnashing your teeth. Bachelor. That’s what everyone thinks he is, right? You blink and curiously turn to Batman, whose hands are flying across a keyboard, hard at work. You hope you’re not bothering him. W-well, he’d say if I were, right? you think.

“Is it weird if I put cameras in Wayne Manor?”

Batman stills and your throat dries. Damn.

“... Um… Too weird…?”

After a tentative silence, Batman responds.

“... No. You’re just covering your bases.”

Your cheeks fill with color as being vindicated – a view you don’t know makes his heart race marginally quicker.

“Yeah!” You cough, composing yourself. “I mean, yeah. You can learn a lot about someone from what they get up to when they think they’re alone.” You can also make sure they’re not bringing anyone home, but you keep that part to yourself.

“I could plant them, if you need. I have plenty made for this kind of surveillance.”

You’re smiling widely, wheeling your chair over to Batman’s side before you know it.

“... God. Batman, you magnificent mind, you. This is why we’re buddies.” You lean over and poke his chest cheekily, right on the bat emblem.

Bruce has to restrain himself from catching your hand on its retreat. Your poke burns a hole in his chest for minutes afterward, and he welcomes every second of it. He turns back to his computer screen, vainly attempting to not think about how much he wants to kiss you right now.

Perhaps Bruce should’ve simply asked you out as Batman. You spend much more time when he’s under the cowl than not. But frankly, you would’ve been too distracted during missions. Hell, he would’ve been too distracted. He already thinks of you all the time.

Your investigation into Bruce Wayne has tripped several of his alarms, even before you told him of it. Anyone making inquiries with this level of depth draws his attention. Nothing you’re looking is anything he’s averse to you knowing, so he’s allowed you to investigate him freely and without redirection. But of course, you don’t know that. The effort you’re making is… cute. The fact you don’t know that Batman is Bruce is cute. You think you have the upper hand. And that’s… cute.

Bruce doesn’t think too deeply about your stalking, even though he probably should. It’s probably evidence of an unstable individual. He’s sure ten years alone with no stimuli in a pocket dimension does things to a person. But who was he to judge? He’s violated the privacy and boundaries of everyone who affects his life in any important way. Nor does he claim to be a shining example of ideal mental health.

And at the end of the day, this situation is all under his control.

There is a small part of him that feels guilty for keeping his identity under wraps, but there’s a bigger part that’s amused. You don’t know that he’s had your birth certificate since the day after you met. You don’t know that there’s about twenty cameras working 24/7 in and out of your apartment. Or that he’s your new landlord. These are things he’ll tease you about once he confesses that he’s Batman. You’ve made him someone who likes to tease.

Still, Bruce remains hesitant about telling you. How would you react? Would you feel betrayed? Hurt? Dread floods his bloodstream, an effect only the most depraved individuals in his rogues gallery tend to have on him.

Would you leave him? Hate him?

His eyes skirt towards where you sit. You worry your lip, eyes glued to a plan of Wayne Manor, no doubt debating where you want him to place the cameras he’s offered. Tension leaves his shoulders, almost imperceptible.

Luckily, the chances of that seem slim.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #yandere reader #bruce wayne #yandere batman #batman x reader #i have got to make everyone crazier #mine

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 9 months

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Link 1, Link 2 :)

Digital Good Omens 2 Sountrack is coming out in 4 days! 🥳 CD version in October! :) ❤ Coming soon on vinyl…

Out to Stream/Download from 25th August. Out on CD 13th October. Coming soon on vinyl…

David Arnold’s ‘end of the world’ complex and multi-genre soundtrack.

From the Award-winning composer of Sherlock and Casino Royale comes a follow up to the hugely successful, Emmy nominated Good Omens soundtrack.

Good Omens series 2 premiered on Prime Video on 28th July. The series follows the odd couple, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) in their quest to sabotage the end of the World. The six-episode sequel to the popular adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, concerns the Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arriving without his memories to Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to find out what happened to Gabriel, whilst hiding him from Heaven and Hell, both eager to find him.

The Soundtrack

David Arnold’s soundtrack to Good Omens was first released in 2019 to favourable reviews, with BBC Music Magazine calling it “a rollicking trip to hell and back”. Blueprint Magazine described it as “a great listen” and Sci Fi Bulletin commented on “plenty of memorable themes” to conclude that “This is another work of art from Arnold”. At times nostalgic and eerie but always varied, beautiful and full of excitement, the Good Omens 2 soundtrack showcases Arnold’s every skill from his composer arsenal. Featured here are orchestral arrangements with sprinkling of Sugar Plum Fairy pizzicato and percussion, jaunty strings and mighty choral sweeps from Crouch End Festival Chorus. Added to the mix are rock guitar riffs, and psychedelic 70s sounds and all together they create a haunting otherworldly feel, complementing the fantasy and the quirky humour of the show. The spirited Waltz of the opening theme is also present in the second series and it wonderfully sets the scene for fantastical mayhem. In series 2, this robust, evocative, and funny music entity, becomes yet again another character in the story. Award-winning composer David Arnold is well known for his blockbuster scores, including Stargate, The Chronicles of Narnia: the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Hot Fuzz, Paul, Independence Day, 2 Fast 2 Furious and Casino Royale as well as for his TV work such as Sherlock and Dracula. Also available: The original soundtrack to the first series of Good Omens >

Tracklist

– Disc 1 – Chapter 1: The Arrival 1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells Chapter 2: The Clue 10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel Chapter 3: I Know Where I’m Going 19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy – Disc 2 – Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker 33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room Chapter 5: The Ball 40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle Chapter 6: Every Day 48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #GOS2Spoilers #good omens spoilers #music #s2 music #david g arnold #s2 soundtrack #wahoo!#shut up and take my money :D

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alexias-putellas · 1 month

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bittersweet // k.mccabe x reader

k.mccabe x reader

based on this request! just a lil katie fic for my fellow katie girls

fifteen minutes.

you glanced up at the clock again just to make sure. fifteen minutes left until the end of the match. you were up 2-0 against ireland but they had really started to take control.

aoife mannion had successfully taken the ball from alessia’s feet and booted it down the pitch. it landed by katie and you watched as she took a shot, hannah saving it with relative ease.

as per your agreement, you and katie hadn’t talked in the run up to the game. but your eyes still strayed towards your girlfriend every now and then when the ball wasn’t by you.

with a small shake your head, you got back into the game. after drawing with sweden it was important that all three points went to england to keep the dream of heading to switzerland alive. but it hurt your soul to know that you’d have to crush katie’s dreams to get there.

a sudden roar of the crowd caught your attention and you whirled around in time to see the referee running towards hannah, taking something—two somethings out of her pocket.

you raced down the pitch as leah and some of the other girls talked to the referee but she was not budging on her decision to give hannah a second card for time wasting.

and then it suddenly dawned on you.

there were no subs left. all five had been used. everything seemed to happen in slow motion and before you could even blink, you were being pulled into a huddle.

“i’ll do it,” you blurted out, shocking the defenders stood around you into silence. “rach and fran are at the front, they’re holding it down, they don’t need me. but we do need a solid defence. none of you can go in for hannah and georgia and keira are killing it in the midfield. it has to be me.”

“are you sure?” leah asked you and you nodded, swallowing thickly.

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine.”

your teammates quickly patted you on the back, murmuring their good lucks as someone raced over with a spare goalkeeper shirt and gloves.

with a pounding heart, you slipped them both on and made your way into the goal, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

as the game restarted and both teams got going, your heart seemed to sink further and further in your chest. why on earth had you volunteered?

that question flew around your head frantically as denise o’sullivan ran down the wing with the ball and you prayed that the girls could pull it together enough that you wouldn’t have to deal with it.

thankfully, keira was the one to do it but the relief didn’t last long. you pulled at the goalkeeper jersey anxiously as katie made her way over to take the corner, desperately calling for your teammates to cover you.

katie had scored from there before. you played alongside her for arsenal, you knew what she was capable of on the pitch when she really put her mind to it. and there was no doubt in your mind that she’d do anything to put that ball in the back of the net.

with a newfound fire in your stomach, you moved forward as your girlfriend kicked the ball, somehow managing to catch it despite the sea of green and white surrounding you.

not wanting to suffer the same fate as hannah, you quickly threw the ball lucy’s way, turning to shoot a thumbs up to the away crowd behind you. they cheered in response and you let yourself feel proud. ignoring the pull at your heart when you thought about katie.

but you needed to not think of her. you had a job to do. your girls were relying on you. they were what you needed to think about. you pushed any thought of katie to the back of your mind, giving leah a quick thumbs up when she looked over at you.

you glanced up at the clock, eyes widening slightly at how much time had actually passed. there were five minutes left. five more minutes.

at the very last minute you saw the ball flying at you and with every ounce of energy you had left, you jumped up, the ball rebounding off your fingertips to go over the back of the net.

the sounds of the girls and the fans cheering is what you focused on as you hit the ground, breathing deeply as someone helped you up.

“you good?” alex asked and you nodded, smiling as she patted you on the back.

hearing the whistle to end a game had never filled you with more relief and you almost cried with happiness. not only had you won but you had also kept the clean sheet. and as you made your way further onto the pitch, your teammates showed their appreciation with hugs, hair ruffles, and even more back pats.

when the huddle broke slightly, you immediately looked for katie. and when you found her, the happiness quickly turned to guilt upon seeing her crouched on the ground with her head in her hands.

“hey,” beth said softly as she approached you, shrugging her coat off and slipping it onto your shoulders. “it’s going to be okay.”

you nodded although you did not believe her. this was new territory for you and katie. you had never played against each other and you had never before been the reason for katie’s sadness. and whilst you desperately hoped it wouldn’t change your relationship, you had a horrible feeling it would.

as you made your way through the irish players, the anxiety grew bigger in your chest at the thought of seeing katie. when you got to her she hugged you like she did everyone else, squeezing your waist before moving on.

“there she is!” you heard georgia shout before her arms were around your waist and you were hoisted in the air. “england’s saviour!”

for a few minutes you let yourself relax and sink into the arms of your relieved teammates. when the huddle separated, you once again looked for katie, your heart sinking as you realised she was no longer on the pitch. whether she had left of her own accord or had been pulled for an interview, she was gone.

“come on you,” leah wrapped her around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. “it’s gonna be alright you know?”

ᡣ𐭩

arriving back in london was both a shame and a relief. it somehow eased and elevated your anxiety. but your mind was still reeling.

instead of heading over to katie’s like you usually would, you went back to the apartment you and alessia shared, automatically assuming that katie would want her space.

you were halfway through ordering takeout on alessia’s phone when your phone buzzed. you reached over for it, lips pursing as you read the text on the screen.

are you coming over tonight?

“i think you should go,” alessia said as she peeked over your shoulder. you shrugged her away quickly. “she loves you.”

you sighed. “she loves football.”

“she loves you more,” the blonde gave you a pointed look. “so go see her and talk to her. otherwise you will drive yourself insane.”

“fine.”

the drive to katie’s apartment seemed a lot longer than usual. and by the time you’d made it up to the front door, you were half tempted to turn back around and go home.

but you didn’t. deep down you knew that your friends were right. everything would be fine. and you took the open door and the smell of your favourite takeaway to be the first sign of that.

“were you really going to ditch me for less?” katie asked as soon as she heard the door close.

“you did not know that was me,” you scoffed, kicking your shoes off. “anyone could’ve walked in then. you should really lock your door.”

“i unlocked it when i saw your car, genius.”

you mocked her quietly under your breath as you made your way into the kitchen. even though the dynamic between you clearly hadn’t changed, you still lingered nervously in the doorway and played with your fingers.

“so? were you actually going to ditch me for alessia?” katie asked again, turning around with her arms crossed over her chest.

you immediately studied her face. her eyebrows were slightly furrowed but she didn’t look upset. you cleared your throat and looked down at the floor. “i wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

“ah so this is what leah warned me about.”

you opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly leah had been saying when something hit you in the face. you blinked rapidly, looking down at the tea towel that fell onto your arm. just as you looked up, another one hit you and you quickly flung them both back at katie. “what are you doing?!”

“knocking some sense into you!”

“well can you do that after we’ve eaten? i’m starving and this smells really good.”

katie rolled her eyes but relented, handing you your plate of food. you’d eaten about half of it when she gently kicked your leg. “i’m really proud of you.”

“ugh, don’t start–“

“no, no, you clearly need to hear this so shut up and listen,” she told you, standing up and making her way behind you. you let out a sigh when she plucked the fork from your hand and placed it down before wrapping her arms around you. “i’m not mad at you and i definitely don’t hate you. you stepped up for your team when most people would probably be too scared to and you made some pretty decent saves. does it suck that it was against me? of course. but i love you and i’m proud of you. always.”

“i’d love you a lot more if you’d shut up and let me eat my food,” you muttered, smiling as she pressed a kiss to your head. “you are a pretty good girlfriend though, anyone ever told you that?”

katie grinned. “of course they have.”

“stupid question really wasn’t it?” you rolled your eyes, picking your fork back up as soon as she walked away. before you could load any food up onto it, she picked up a tea towel and twisted it in her hands, cracking it against your thigh. you yelped loudly, glaring at your girlfriend. “ow! what the hell was that for?”

“that was because you doubted my love for you. don’t do it again.”

“yes ma’am.”

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine

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myhappylittlesideblog · 2 months

Text

Gotch-yer Back

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Violence, Walker death, other TWD character death (Amy), Daryl being a bit of a jerk and then fixing it, let me know if there's anything else! Basically what seems to be regular TWD fanfic warnings. Also I believe this is only Fem!Reader because he calls Reader "girl."

Summary: A retelling of the night walkers attack at the quarry and how you and Daryl help each other deal with the aftermath.

You tried to remember the last time you’d eaten fish. It had been a while, a few weeks maybe? A few long weeks forcing yourself to eat squirrel or a rabbit if you were lucky. Or if you were unlucky, even snake. You’d eat whatever was caught if you were hungry enough, or simply to stay alive another day.

Fish was a delicacy these days. The girls- Amy and Andrea had caught a load of them in the quarry. It was white fish which had always been your favorite. It was easy to cook and fell apart in yummy flakes. Hell, you didn’t even need a fork.

It was hot in your mouth and the heat of the meal radiated in your belly. The group chewed and chattered while you were lost in your own thoughts. Your mother used to make a great dish when you lived with her. Cod with a breading on top that was made with Ritz crackers. You missed her. You missed her cooking. You wondered where she was now-

Everyone laughed suddenly and the sound made you jump.

“William Faukner,” Dale said, smiling.

Lori reached over Carl and rested a comforting hand on your arm. Understanding glowed in her eyes in the firelight. Loud noises always made you nervous these days.

By the time you saw the pan of fish that had been passed around, the last filet was being pulled out of it by a stabbing fork.

“Shouldn’t we save some?” you asked Lori. “The guys’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll catch some more tomorrow,” Andrea said to you, catching your attention from a few seats down.

“Yeah,” Amy said. “We’re pros.”

Despite the light conversation, Lori looked grim. You and her seemed to be the only people worried about the men who’d gone off to find Merle and the bag of guns that was left in the street in Atlanta. She had her arm around Carl as he munched and grinned at Dale. You couldn’t imagine how she was feeling about her husband’s return, nevermind his volunteering to lead the charge back into one of the most dangerous places in this new age. He’d just gotten back. It was written all over her face as she gazed into the flames of the fire.

You weren’t a fan of Merle. In fact, you disliked him thoroughly. The pit in your gut surrounding his abandonment had nothing to do with his safety, or his life, but with Daryl’s. You weren’t even sure if you liked the younger Dixon either. He seemed to follow too closely in his brother’s footsteps to be safe or dependable. Or even nice. But you did respect him. After all, he’d helped to keep you safe and almost single handedly kept the group fed with his hunting and tracking skills.

Still, no. He wasn’t very nice.

You had a feeling, however, that you had his respect in return. It only took a few crude remarks from Merle for you to fire back at him with enough force to keep him off your back for a few days. Daryl apparently hadn’t been too far away that day and had heard your reply to Merle’s degrading comments.

“Impressive,” he’d said. “For a quiet girl.”

The next time Merle got colorful with his words towards you, Daryl was the one to take the heat for you. Told his brother to quit it. Since then, your relationship with the older Dixon was extremely minimal and even when it was forced, he left you alone.

Though you wouldn’t have missed Merle one bit, you watched Daryl take the news of his desertion when the cop- Rick- told him what had happened on the supply run. While you of course expected fury from Daryl, you hadn’t expected such emotion to fly out of him. He was a wrecking ball of threats and fists with tears running down his dirty cheeks. It was sad.

He must have seen the pity in your face then. When you called to him, tried to calm him down and move him away from Shane, he’d shoved you. “Get lost, girl.”

Needless to say, the men in this group were difficult. But at least the others were in the group. Daryl was on the outskirts of it and without his brother, it would be too easy for him to get thrust out. While you didn’t want that, you knew it was also vital for the survival of the group for him to stay. You had a feeling he wasn’t as impenetrable as the armor he wore.

You were worried about Daryl. You were also worried about Glenn and T-Dog, and Rick- Lori and Carl included. And as you sat there before the fire, you wondered what the hell would happen if Merle returned.

That was when you heard Amy scream. You didn’t recognize the sound at first, it was so sudden and so loud. It was a cry of anguish and fear. One that begged for help.

After that, it was chaos.

You turned over your shoulder, watching Amy and her assailant, even pondering for a split second who had snuck into the camp. What stranger would go after a girl just trying to go to the bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t a who. It was a what.

“Get behind me!” Shane roared.

You knew there wasn’t time. Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed the unfamiliar hunting knife you had with you and unsheathed it. You stepped over the log you’d been sitting on, away from the fire, but also further away from Shane and the safety of his gun, towards one of the geeks. It wasn’t just ugly and rank and dead, it was terrifying. The look of it, the smell of it made your stomach sink so far, it felt like it’d fell out of your body.

It snarled and gnashed its mouth at you while its thin, wiry fingers reached for you, but all the while, you focused on its hair. It was the same in death as it was in life- long locks of protein that couldn’t hurt you. Harmless. So you aimed your knife there.

In the brain, in the brain, it has to be in the brain, don’t you know anything-

The thing stopped once your knife sunk into its skull. Its arms dropped to its hollow sides and its lifeless eyes looked at you, long enough to send a shudder through you before it dropped to the ground, taking your one and only weapon with it.

“Get up here! Come to the RV!” you heard.

There were more screams, the thunk of childhood baseball bats slamming into hard skulls, the echoing sound of gunshots. Closer to you, though, and more urgently, there was deep guttural snarling, groaning and gurgling- the sound of the dead coming for you.

Shane had brought the children to the RV, safe, their backs leaning against the cold metal. Lori and Carol were there, Jim was at the treeline with his bat, Andrea on the ground with- with Amy. Amy’s body. You were alone. In the middle of the chaos, too far from any other living humans to take any aid.

“(Y/N)! Get up here! Jim!” Shane’s voice was hoarse.

You dove for your knife, yanking it out of the walker’s head with a squelch. You could only manage three or four steps up the hill before another undead was upon you. It was too close, its long nails a hair’s breadth away from your bare skin and its decaying teeth lunging closer with every stride. Again, you had to gather all your strength, grip your knife tight and focus- be calm enough to aim for the enemy’s brain. You had one chance, or you’d turn into one of them.

Carl would have to see it, Sophia, Lori. Daryl.

You grunted with the effort and the tip of the knife hit home and sunk into the geek’s head. This time you were able to free your knife before the thing fell to the ground. You scanned the land in front of you, looking for more threats. There were so many bodies on the ground. Bodies of people from your group, people that you’d gotten to know. They were lying still now. Leaking onto the dirt.

Then an arm wrapped around your middle and dragged you uphill. You screamed and thrashed, but whatever had you was strong.

“It’s me,” his voice rasped in your ear.

It immediately calmed you. You held onto Daryl’s arm as if it were a buoy saving you from drowning in gray, storming waves of a murderous ocean. He led you to the others near the van and deposited you there before letting go of you.

He was back. You saw Rick, T-Dog and Glenn, all in various states of emotional disrepair, but Daryl just looked around, calmly taking in the carnage.

“Daryl,” you said to him, “you okay?”

“Whaddah you think?” he snarled. “Ya see mah brother anywhere? Huh?”

So the moment was short lived. You ignored whatever he said next, running your hand along the outside of the RV, using it as a crutch as you moved to check on Carol and Sophia, then on Lori. You didn’t have it in you to survey much more than that. You trembled from the inside out and watched Rick hug his little boy as tears streamed down his face.

At least they were back.

It was somewhat painstakingly decided that you would all save the cleanup for tomorrow morning. The survivors had vans or tents to escape into. To leave the dead outside. Except for Andrea. One look at her- that was all you could handle- and you knew she wasn’t going to leave her sister any time soon.

You fell to your knees, jeans sinking into the soft dirt and stared into the flames of the campfire that was still burning strong. It was only then you found the hunting knife still in your tight grip, crusted over with brown, lumpy goo. At that point in the night, you couldn’t understand exactly what the remains were and for that, you were grateful. The bit of blade still showing reflected in the light coming from the pit, shades of orange and red glowing between your fingers.

Shane crouched beside you and though his landing was silent and agile, you jumped.

“S’alright,” he said, taking the weapon out of your scrunched hand. “Lemme clean it.”

“I can clean it,” Daryl grumbled from above, snatching the knife from Shane. “S’mine anyway.”

Shane let it happen, concentrating on you. He carefully set a hand on your shoulder. “Ya did good,” he said.

“You too,” you answered, like a little league pitcher on the losing team.

He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Try ta get some rest,” he said from the air.

You nodded.

Only when Shane was gone, did Daryl move closer to you. He sat on the ground and leaned back against the log the group had been using as dinner seats less than an hour ago. He sat back for a while, leaving you to watch the flames die down as he worked one of his rags into the crevices of the hunting knife. Slowly, you heard the others of the group- those living- say goodnight to each other and slide into their respective dwellings for what was left of the evening.

Distantly, though he sat just beside you, you heard Daryl speak. “S’right bout one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Ya did good. I saw ya when we were runnin’ up the hill. Doin’ what I told ya to do.”

You turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. Your feet stung under you, asleep after kneeling on them for so long, as you moved to sit on your bottom next to Daryl. He turned the cleaned knife in his hand before passing it you, handle out.

You shook your head. “It’s yours.”

He plopped it on your lap. “S’yours now. I gave it to ya. You’ll need it.”

You didn’t want to need it. He knew that too. All the same, it was a good thing he’d left it with you when he went to Atlanta. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting next to him right now. Speaking to him. Feeling the heat that didn’t just emit from the fire, but from him by your side as well.

“Thank you,” you said, sliding the knife back into its sheath and into your pocket, where you hoped it would stay, unneeded for a long time. Or at least for the rest of the night.

You turned to him, but again, he wasn’t looking at you. He rarely did. But you knew he was still there, still with you by the way his head tilted towards you. Like he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. As if you were a deer in the forest, ready to bolt away from him at any moment.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Merle.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah right. You hate Merle.”

“Hate is a strong word,” you said.

He chuckled- a grim, gruff sound deep in his chest.

You watched him, feeling free to do so since he so rarely looked you in the eye. He was biting the inside of his lip over and over and picking at his fingernails.

You waited.

He peeked at you, inhaling deep. “Didn’ mean ta snap atcha. Earlier.”

When he yelled, you thought. By the RV, after he’d pulled you to safety.

You nodded. “S’alright. It’s been a tough day all around.”

Humming in agreement, he turned back to the fire. You two were square now. But you also hoped he knew that if he snapped at you like that again, you wouldn’t be so quick to forgive.

There was a flapping from above that shook the leaves in the trees. It was a soft, peaceful sound of nature, but after this night, in this new world, it startled you to your core.

“Just a bird,” Daryl said.

You sucked in a breath that made your lungs quake in your chest. “I’m sick of being so scared all the damn time,” you mumbled, tipping your head forward, holding your face in your hands. Things had only been like this for two months? Three? And you were already exhausted, tired of it all. How much longer could you take? Or, how much longer would it take for you to just-

Daryl stood. “Come on,” he said. He waved toward his tent. “Gotta getcha away from this damn bloodbath ‘er you’ll never calm down.”

You violently shook your head. “I can’t- I don’t wanna be alone-”

He was already walking toward the tent he shared with Merle. “Yer stayin’ with me. So I know where ya are.”

Your system went from fight or flight to frozen. He- Daryl- wanted you- where? After every shove and snap and swear towards you, now he wanted you to come with him? To be in his space? Overnight?

You stared at him. He tossed his crossbow into his tent, lifting the flap and heading inside when he turned back and saw you still on the ground in front of the fire.

“Or do ya wanna stay out here alone?”

“No.”

“Then get off yer ass.”

You scrambled to your feet and scurried to the tent’s flap. You felt like a scolded child, like your dignity had been left in the dirt, but you didn’t care. After the walker attack, you couldn’t be alone and you had been trusting Daryl with your life for weeks now, not that you’d ever tell anyone that. You felt the safest when you were with him. Tonight you needed that. Especially tonight.

“Ya can take that side,” Daryl mumbled, pointing.

The tent was small. Big enough to stand up in, but not very wide. There were two sleeping bags strewn out close to each other with a lumpy pillow on each. He tossed an extra blanket onto the side he told you to take. It was the one with the crossbow at its foot. And you recognized his cut off flannel shoved into the duffle beside it.

“I can’t take your bed.”

“Ain’t a bed,” he said, spreading the other sleeping bag open flat and sitting on it.

“Well, I can’t take your bag.”

“Would you rather stick your face in Merle’s pillow all night?”

You grimaced, thinking of the monster of a man and what he’d probably done to that innocent pillow.

“Thought not,” Daryl said. He grumbled it, but you heard the smirk in his voice.

“The definition of ‘pick your poison’,” you said, crouching to sit on the soft sleeping bag.

“Girl-” Daryl said, swatting at you as he rolled over, putting his back to you.

You swung back, smacking his shoulder. “I was kidding.”

In answer, he gave another blind swat, making you giggle.

You laid back into the double layer of sleeping bag, enjoying the way it was cool to the touch underneath you. The pillow, though thin, felt nice when you situated it under your head the way you liked it. Everything around you smelled like him- gas, grease, cigarettes- yes, but something else too. It wasn’t a bad smell, just a natural one. Just Daryl.

You were laying on your side, facing him. You watched him sink into the darkness as you spun the dial on the lantern until it turned off. Dark, though it was, you could still see his form clearly. Not sleeping yet.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

He grunted, flopping to lay on his back and folding one of his arms under his head. “Get some sleep.”

It was then you realized how small the tent really was. When he laid on his back, his leg could almost touch your knee as you curled up on your side. He was an enigma, alright, you thought. Couldn’t bear to look you in the eye, saved your life, snapped at you in front of everyone and now slept beside you like it was nothing.

You sighed, following suit and laying on your back too. “Don’t think I’m gonna be able to catch much of that,” you said.

His pillow rustled as he looked toward you. “What the hell happened there?” He took your hand from where it rested over your forehead and studied the angry red scrapes and purple bruising on your knuckles. “This happen tonight?”

“No,” you said, taking your hand from his grasp and tucking it under you, embarrassed. “Happened earlier.”

“How’d you bust it up like that?”

“I, um… I just hurt it. Against Ed’s face.”

Daryl gave a laughing hiss. “I saw his face. You did that?”

“Some of it. Shane did the rest.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“He had it comin’,” you said, barely finishing the last word and regretting saying anything at all. Ed may have deserved a few punches, hell, he deserved jail time. But what happened to him tonight- eaten alive, alone- you weren’t sure anyone deserved that. It made your stomach roll in your gut and you stung with shame.

“Fucking badass, girl,” Daryl said.

It was quiet in the dark for a long moment.

“M’not, Daryl. I’m just fucking scared.”

There was more rustling beside you as Daryl shimmied around on his sleeping bag.

“Turn over. That way,” he said.

You did as he told you, laying on your side with your back to him. His body moved up against yours, his heat blooming on your shoulders, bum, and the backs of your legs. A little too forcefully, he lifted your head to slide his arm underneath and cradle you close.

“Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in this tent tonight. I gotch’yer back. You can handle your front.”

You nodded, feeling tears gather in your eyes. Your cheeks were hot, as though they were on fire as you cried, finally letting out the emotion of the evening. The death, the kills, the fear, and the relief all ran down your face and into your shirt or onto Daryl’s pillow or his arm supporting your head. As your breath caught, he reached around you with his free arm, hugging you close and rubbing his thumb on the skin of your injured hand. You grasped him hard. You needed to.

Before this night, you weren’t sure what you thought of the younger Dixon brother. He was rough and nasty and you wondered just how much he took after Merle. Before this moment, you thought he’d run for the hills if you ever touched him with one single finger, nevermind your whole body- your whole being like you were now. But he was there, still with you and unbothered. Safe.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

You nodded, squeezing his hand again before letting it go and allowing your body to relax against his. And eventually, in his arms, listening to his steady breath, you slept.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #Daryl dixon twd #twd #twd fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #the walking dead

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florencemtrash · 4 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Five

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Gore, violence, some angst

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Meryl struggled forward, trying to keep from tripping on his floor-length robes. A head of ivory hair trailed out after him at a leisurely pace. A blood red hand at her side gripped a slick shortsword. The blade mimicked the cruel curve of her horns.

You remembered her from the party.

Teal silk and blood and the lake.

Koschei.

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms.

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner.

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room.

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it.

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library.

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god.

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor.

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door.

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always.

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages.

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime.

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales.

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes.

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late.

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink.

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion.

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you.

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table.

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.”

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked.

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.”

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.”

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist.

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins.

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh.

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years.

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron?

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too.

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end.

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts.

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room.

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”.

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly.

“You didn’t finish your thought.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.”

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work.

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic.

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.”

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would.

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment.

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings.

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him.

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel.

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands.

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong.

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind.

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book.

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular.

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains.

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to.

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.”

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.”

“...I know.”

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.”

“You can’t keep doing this.”

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils.

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.”

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind.

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book.

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out?

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two.

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is.

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late.

You grip the knife in your hand.

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath.

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time.

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames.

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath.

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!”

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath.

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic.

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion.

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today.

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea.

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember.

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.”

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck.

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory.

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart.

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

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Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

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