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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

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What Can I Do For You? (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Prompt: what if the deal restricting Alastor's powers is with you? haha, unless....

Warnings: THIS IS NOT SMUT. However, there will be some abusive/unhealthy relationship things obvi. One (1) bad word (I think).

Word count: 1,855

Master lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N this is just a reminder that I do accept requests if anyone is interested!

She was waiting there for him when he got back. Of course she was. Sitting in the chair of his recording studio, leaned back and casual. She acted like she owned the place.

It had been a few weeks since she'd sent him to the Hazbin Hotel. Alastor still didn't know the reasons but, him confirming the success of his appointment of the place had been the last time they'd spoken, it had been the last time he had seen her.

Quietly, Alastor pulled himself from the door way, his heart pounding frantically, halfway between anger and something akin to joy. He walked up to her, his hands placidly clasped behind his back. Stopping a few feet away, she turned to face him.

There it was, that sickly smile. Part of what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, love, complex feelings like that for so long and it was because he knew they made him weak. If he cared, he always thought, his enemies could use the object of his care against him. Simple as that.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it was the hypothetical person he might care for who would use his affections to their advantage. He had been naïve. He had been a fool.

The red light from the night sky crashed against her face, throwing her features into sharp contrast. She crossed her legs, the length of her skirt revealing her thighs just the slightest bit above her laced combat boots. She tilted her head slightly to the side. She was beautiful, just as beautiful as the day he'd met her.

That had all been part of the act as well, being small and afraid under the grips of that man. Alastor had heard her scream and found them in the ally. He had killed the man, reaching a hand out to the trembling demon. Hesitantly, she had taken it.

"I've been waiting." she hummed, her voice warm and inviting but with a cold sharp under-layer.

It was the voice someone had when they held a knife behind their back, knew they had the trump card, knew they couldn't loose. When he had first met the woman twelve years before, it had pulled him in. There was a curious depth to it he just couldn't help but want to uncover, need to uncover.

"My apologies." he softly replied, "If I had known, I would have come sooner."

Her smile widened, matching his own in its wildness. Sharp teeth, sharp eyes, sharp heart. Every fiber of his being told him to pick an option, fight or flight. He kept it all at bay, there was no other option. Not any more.

"I know." she hummed, taunting him, "You're quiet domesticated now."

There had been a time when her saying something like that might have made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. There had been a time where the word, domesticated, would have meant in love and together, not bound to her side for all eternity.

Now it just made Alastor feel sick to his stomach. Shame rose within him, making his cheeks glow pink. She chuckled at the sight.

"Now that's a sight that never gets old."

"What?"

"The feared Radio Demon, one of the most powerful overlords in all of Hell -- ashamed."

Alastor didn't reply. After a moment, she sighed, pulling herself to her feet. She circled him like a mad dog, like she was stalking prey. He didn't watch her, but his ears twitched, following the sound of her footsteps. She came to a stop behind him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, clearing his throat.

She reached up, grabbing his shoulders gently in her hands. Even after all this time, all these years, all that had happened, he melted at her touch. That's what five years of building trust, forging love, did. Even if the seven after were hell, even if she had tricked him, betrayed him, time and time again, Alastor couldn't help it. He was weak and pliant beneath her skilled touch.

"What, I can't just check in on my favorite pet?" she asked innocently, rubbing his shoulders gently.

"Y/n..." Alastor sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides, "please, just tell me what you want."

She abruptly stopped in her movements at the sound of her name. It was a rare gift to hear it from someone's lips other than her own. Hell's Hunter Demon didn't share her true name, didn't reveal her face to anyone. It had been part of the trust building, the day she had finally given both to him.

When he had first met her, he had recognized her immediately from the stories. Alastor was on the verge of killing her, adding her voice to the broadcast to prove his power but, seeing the way she shook stopped him. He had smiled to himself, he had thought he had learned a secret about one of the most feared overlords in Hell besides himself. He had thought he had the upper hand.

"Say it again."

"Y/n."

She had been so sweet at first, so docile. He was set on getting her soul, making her subservient. The longer he had lain in wait to enact his little plan, the more he had gotten to know her. Y/n had a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue, she was clever and had a kind side to her that she hid well. It hadn't taken much for him to realize he was falling in love.

That had been terrifying, the first truly scary thing the Radio Demon had encountered since arriving in Hell. It had tortured him for months and he'd consulted every one he knew and trusted on the matter. Finally, Rosie was the one who had convinced him to just tell her, had told him she might feel the same way too. As much as he wanted to blame Rosie for that, Alastor couldn't bring himself to. She hadn't known, they'd both been in the dark, captivated by her sweet austere brilliance.

They had gotten a few happy moments together, a few blissful years. There had been time before she had revealed her true colors and what a lovely time it had been.

A shiver trickled down both their spines in the silence, the sound of his tongue forming the syllables of her name bringing back memories of brighter times. She took her hands from his shoulders, coming to stand before him once again.

Y/n was a book in a language he didn't know, an undeciphered code. Mouth drawn into a thin line, hands daintily placed on her hips, he watched her as she watched him. Unbidden thoughts, unbidden memories, the same ones as always, filtered into his mind. He couldn't help but wonder now, as he had a hundred times before, if it had all truly been a lie. If it had all been some ruse to get what she wanted.

Alastor had to admit, she had gotten him fair and square. Y/n had had him so absolutely wrapped-around-her-pinky-finger in love that she hadn't even been the one to bring up the deal. He had thought he was being sweet, romantic even. It was unfamiliar territory for the man and it had been important. He had fretted over the right way to ask her for weeks.

When he finally had, she was ecstatic at the idea of them joining souls, of giving themselves so fully and completely over to one another. A contract for each of them, an equal exchange.

As a sign of good faith, a mistake he would never be making again, Alastor had offered to go first. When the green smoke had lifted from their clasped hands and he had first caught sight of her face, of her wicked grin, he knew he had fucked up.

Y/n stepped up to him. With a gentle hand, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Alastor hadn't even realized it had been there, so preoccupied with his own pity. He held his smile strong as she examined the little drop of salt water on her finger, smiling ruefully.

"What do I want from you." she mused softly to herself, "Well, I think I already have everything, wouldn't you agree?"

A green chain materialized in her hand as she spoke, the tear hitting it, melding with the metal as it became solid and she grasped it firmly. With a tug, she sent Alastor to the floor. He fell to his knees harshly, the impact reverberating through his bones.

He had loved her once. Now, looking up at her, he loved her still. He was a fool, through and through. Not because of his persisting love but because of his persisting hope, the fact that he had trusted her. The fact that he still trusted her. The fact that after everything, it somehow still made him the slightest bit joyful to see Y/n smiling and know he was the cause.

More than anything, he wanted to ask her if she regretted what had happened, what she had done. Alastor held his tongue. Even if she was, it was too late. There was no point in asking.

"I can't keep doing this." was what he chose to say instead, his voice was barley more than a whisper.

Y/n's smile fell, her eye brows raised as she crouched down in front of him, pulling the chain tight between them. She delicately placed a finger beneath his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers.

"It doesn't matter. You will."

He knew she was right. Curse or no curse, he would come when she called.

"What can I do for you?" he asked again, his tone resolute.

"You can burn."

And burn he did.

There was a reason Alastor had avoided intimacy, it was because he had been afraid of it. A secret part of him had always yearned, a secret part that even now still felt fulfilled at her gentle touch. All along, he had been right that love would destroy him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it would have happened in this way or, that after everything, he would still care for the woman in question, his captor.

"Ask me again." she commanded.

"What can I do for you?"

He had been naïve, a fool.

"You can rot for all I care. Ask me again."

He was a fool still. A fool in love, a fool destroyed.

"What can I do for you?"

His breaths were labored, his heart open and bloodied. Y/n held it in the palms of her hands, given willingly. She radiated power crouched before him, holding his head close to hers with the chain.

"You can obey. Will you?"

"Yes."

The metal, cold and heavy, tugged against his neck, bruising the bone of his spine.

"For how long?"

"Forever."

There was no hesitation in his voice. A smile split her face in two, wicked and hungry.

"Good."

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 2 months

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Fun Fashion Fact about ATSV #3:

The History of Hobies Boots: Punk Culture 101

Although Hobies boots are not Doc Martens - it's most likely they're supposed to be.

Hobie wears knee-high cherry red combat boots - and although they look like Doc Martens at first glance, you may notice they aren't.

They lack the iconic yellow threading and the loop behind the boots.

However, despite this - it's most likely that his boots are supposed to be Docs, or at the very least heavily inspired by them.

Contrary to popular belief, Doc Martens are not originally British - they're German, with their production starting after WW2.

When Doc Martens came to the UK in the sixties and seventies -

the first model available to the UK were high-ankled and Cherry Red in color

[NOTE: DO NOT wear these boots with white or red laces unless you want to be approached by racists or you are one. Red and White laces stand for skinheads/white supremacists respectively. Cherry Red Docs with red laces are one of their signatures. Docs have been sold with different color laces over the years, but the standard for new ones is now black. Yellow laces (which the brand sells) stands for anti-racism. I don't believe they have ever sold red or blue laces - only black and yellow now I think]

And later on they produced the 1B60 - aka, the Cherry Red 20-eyelet boots, Hobies model.

So even though his boots aren't OFFICIALLY docs, probably for licensing reasons, but Hobie's boots seen to be designed directly off of the first model of UK Doc Martens.

Hence why his shoes are one of the most consistent things to appear in his concept art. How cool is that!!!

#there are other punk fashion elements he wears that I haven't heard anyone point out so I wanted to start here #cause I LOVE docs #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk

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ladykailitha · 5 months

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The Fallen

I blame @vecnuthy for this entirely. Seeing all their Sleep Token posts has completely intersected with Steddie and you get this.

***

Modern AU: Corroded Coffin makes it big. Like Metallica levels huge. Like every up and coming metal band is clamoring to open for them levels of fame. When this metal band, The Fallen comes on the scene and are dismissed as glam rock wannabes.

They are very theatrical. They are dressed in long coats with hoods and face masks. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer all have full Venetian masks of different colors. The bassist has one that looks like a starry night (but not Starry Night if you know what I mean). The Guitarist has a red devil’s mask, horns and all. The drummer is in a black death mask. The eyes of the mask are closed and it looks eerie as fuck. The most dramatic of the masks belong to the lead singer. He wears an opaque white lace mask with the mouth and chin cut out so he can sing.

Their outfits match their masks.

The lead singer, Abbadon, the fallen angel is in all in white with a splash of color on the lining of his coat. Sometimes it’s pink or baby blue, sometimes it one of the colors of bandmates, black or red or starry midnight blue. He wears high heeled boats and not always of the combat variety. Once he wore stilettos with a baby blue stripe up the side. It’s the outfit that gets made into dolls and merch the most. Most of the time he’s shirtless, but has been known to switch it up with lace or sheer tops.

The guitarist plays up the devil persona to a tee and calls himself Asmodeus, the demon of lust. Red leather and fetish gear. Thick red combat boots. His guitar is even blood red.

The bassist is called Astraeus, the titan of the night. While in certain light his clothes look black, but they are in fact a dark blue with bright stars, swirling galaxies, and glowing nebulae. His bass is of the night sky as well.

And finally the drummer, Azrael. Angel of death. Always in black. His drum kit is black with black metal fittings. Even his drumsticks are black.

Like I said, at first dismissed as wannabes but they are killing it. It’s clear that not only are they talented, their flare for the dramatic adds to their mystique. Soon they are the new rising stars of metal.

Dustin is their biggest fan. He loves them. Eddie is offended at the highest level. How dare this little butthead like The Fallen. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Dude, Corroded Coffin is still number one in my book,” he tells Eddie. “But you can’t deny that Abbadon is a beast on vocals.”

Eddie is forced to concede the point. Abbadon knows how to really get the through to the emotion of a song.

So when Dustin gets front row tickets to The Fallen’s concert in Indy, Eddie reluctantly joins the little twerp.

And the concert starts. First the drummer gets lowered into his seat on giant raven wings.

“Azrael!” the announcer calls out.

And the crowd goes wild.

The man slips out of the harness and wings ascend. Eddie cocks his head, yeah all right that’s kinda cool.

Azrael hits his drums and the bassist gets lowered on to the stage. All shimmering blues and purples, like actual stars, lands deftly on the stage and Azrael hits the high hat.

“Astraeus!”

The crowd is frantic now. Screaming and jumping up and down.

As soon as the wings are unstrapped and lifted away Astraeus riffs on his bass and the crowd eats it up.

Eddie likes this one. It’s unique.

Then Azrael starts up again as another man is lowered and it takes everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes at this one. Red leather gear, horned mask, and fucking bat wings.

He stomps on the stage and really wails on his guitar. Eddie looks over to see that Dustin is absolutely eating it with the rest of them so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Asmodeus!”

Dustin is vibrating so hard that Eddie’s fears he might literally crawl out of his skin with excitement.

And then the entire stadium goes silent. Like stock still. Eddie is looking around him confused.

He looks back at the stage and there descends the absolute most devastatingly handsome man Eddie has ever seen and he hasn’t seen his face.

His arms are out stretched and his head is bowed. Once he lands air cannons shoot out white feathers out at the crowd and the wings ascend without this man.

“Abbadon!” the announcer screams for the final time.

“Indy!” he shouts into his mouthpiece.

And the crowd screams could deafen the most resilient of metal goer.

Abbadon starts singing and the crowd is losing their god damn minds. And yeah, yeah. Eddie is one of them.

They’ve got a stage presence that can’t be manufactured.

And then about half way through the concert he sees it. Abbadon turns his head just right and holy fuck, Eddie is losing his mind for a different reason. He manages to take a picture with his phone before Abbadon turns.

After the concert Eddie grills Dustin about the band all the way home. But the only thing the kid knows is how awesome the band is.

He gets to the hotel and starts watching every interview with The Fallen ever. And he pulls up one from about a year or so back where Abbadon is talking about the masks.

Abbadon pulls out a black mask and holds it up to the light. “See? You can tell that the eyes have mesh covering over them. They work the way two way mirrors do. Azrael can see out of them just fine, but you can’t see in.”

There are a lot of impressed nods, Eddie is definitely one of them. That’s certainly a neat trick.

“So what’s the reason for the masks at all?” the interviewer asks.

Abbadon looks at the members of his band and they all nod. He licks his lips.

“Because if we had been ourselves when we started on the scene,” he said, “we would have be called posers and we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.”

Eddie paused the video and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Just then Jeff wanders into the hotel room and looks at the TV.

“Is that The Fallen?”

Eddie hums. “Yup.”

Jeff grabs a drink from the mini-fridge and makes his way over. “Oh hey is that poser interview?”

Eddie hums again.

“He can’t really be serious about that,” Jeff says with a huff. “No one in the metal scene would call anyone posers, not if they truly loved the music.”

“We would have,” Eddie says with a finality that brings Jeff up short.

“The fuck we would have, man,” Jeff snaps. “There’s no way.”

“We would have it was Steve Harrington’s band.”

Jeff’s eyes go wide. “There is no way that’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and zooms in on Abbadon’s neck. He hands his phone to Jeff.

“Okay so the dude has moles on his neck,” he says handing the phone back, “lots of people have them.”

Eddie goes through his phone and pulls up a picture of Steve. He’s not in the exact same pose but it’s close enough. He hands the phone to Jeff again.

Jeff squints and then zooms in.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie drapes his hand over his mouth and purses his lips.

“Steve Harrington in a metal band,” Jeff says in awe. “All be damned.”

“When The Fallen came on the scene,” Eddie says dropping his hand so his talk, “we were outselling Metallica in records and ticket sales. If the rest of the band are preps like Steve we would have mocked them relentlessly.”

Jeff sits down hard on the sofa next to Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands.

“We got to tell someone, man,” Jeff says. “This is huge!”

Eddie in his haste to look at Jeff accidentally hits the remote.

“Do you think you’ll ever do a reveal?” the interviewer asks.

Asmodeus leans over to speak in the microphone. “Ask us again in ten years if we’re still selling out crowds.”

Eddie fumbles it again, but manages to turn off the TV.

Jeff and he looks at each other.

“We can’t say shit, man,” Eddie hisses. “It would be like outing someone as gay or trans before they want to.”

Jeff slumps in his seat. “Fuck. Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “What I don’t get is how the kids don’t know.”

Jeff opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head slowly. “Sorry but if I was Steve I wouldn’t tell them shit either.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jeff says turning to face him, “they’re great kids. Brilliant D&D players, nerds, geeks, and dorks the lot of them. But I would not trust them with a secret that big.”

Eddie thought about all the time that they accidentally blurted out something that didn’t make sense out of context, but once you knew, holy shit was it a miracle these kids didn’t get into more trouble.

“Yeah okay.”

After a moment of silence Eddie looks over and frowns at Jeff. “What are you doing my hotel room anyway?”

Jeff holds up his beer. “Your beer was cold, I forgot to put mine in the fridge when we got in.”

“Asshole,” Eddie grouses, bumping Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff kisses his cheek. “You love me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Steve is in his dressing room after their last concert of the tour for their second album scrubbing the hell out of his face because that mask is prone to giving him the worst breakouts, when he notices the blue roses.

He gets a lot of flowers but never blue roses. He rinses off his face and walks over to the them.

There’s a note and he thinks he recognizes the handwriting. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying.

“I know your secret, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

It’s not signed, but the ‘sweetheart’ gives it away.

He messages Robin.

“Get Eddie Munson in here right now!”

She protests that she doesn’t know where he is. But Steve knows he has to still be in the building and sure enough she finds Eddie waiting in the wings, looking smug as hell.

Her eyes go wide and cursing up a storm drags him into the dressing room.

She presses her back to the door.

“Who told?” she squeaks.

Eddie laughs. “No one, I swear.”

“Then how did you know?” Steve asks.

He hands Steve his phone with the picture he took at the concert. Robin wanders over to peak over Steve’s shoulder.

“So it’s a picture of his neck,” she murmurs.

But suddenly Steve gets it. “It’s my moles!”

Eddie nods, pressing his lips together so he doesn’t giggle.

“Shit!” Robin hisses. “Do you think anyone else figured it out?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’m just obsessive that way.”

“About moles?” Robin says with a frown.

“With Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Right I’m out of here.”

She closes the door behind her and they are left alone.

The night ends with Eddie in Steve’s bed asking him for The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on their next tour next year and there is no way Steve could say no to that. His bandmates would kill him.

They go on tour and the hardest part is dodging rumors that Eddie is two timing Steve with Abbadon because when The Fallen and Corroded Coffin perform together they make out on stage.

Then for The Fallen’s ten anniversary they do a reveal and Dustin is livid.

Robin and Steve had been telling him for years that they were just low level PAs and not a famous rockstar and his equally mysterious manager.

They’re forgiven when Steve tells him that half the songs on the first album are about him and the rest of the kids.

***

This is just a rough draft. I might expand on it in full later.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington

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montypng · 3 months

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it takes two !

[ID: two coloured drawings. the first is of party poison sitting crouched; they look off to the side with a scowl and their body is peppered with scars and freckles. their hair is shoulder-length and shoddily dyed red, and they have a pair of green goggles pushed up onto their forehead. their tank top is pale green with the words "killer queen" printed on in a weird font. they are wearing denim cutoffs and thick-soled combat boots with purple laces.

the second drawing is kobra kid, looking slightly annoyed and wearing his trademark red racing jacket and tiger print shirt. he has an incomplete cleft lip, acne, and a choppy blond mullet in desperate need of rebleaching. his look is completed by snake bites and dice earrings which have rolled snake eyes. /end ID]

#danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #party poison #kobra kid #mcr #my chemical romance #my art #killjoys #they fuck me upp man

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violethursday · 16 days

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Hi my name is Acht Mizuta and I have long Indigo hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and sunny yellow eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Marina Ida (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Marie Cuttlefish but I wish I was because she's a major fucking hottie. I'm sanitized but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale green skin. I'm also an octoling, and I go to a simulation called the Memverse in Inkopolis Square where I'm in the first year (I'm twenty-three). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black dress with matching red lace around it and a black cap with an octopus on it, headphones and black combat boots. I was wearing black eyeliner and a red tinted visor. I was walking outside the Spire of Order. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Parallel Canons stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#shitpost #splatoon #splatoon 3 #side order #my immortal #dedf1sh #acht mizuta

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beansprean · 8 months

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I adore Derek’s new gothpunk e-boy aesthetic and am sprinkling my own weeb hc on top!! I love him 😍

(Feel free to use his nakey self if you want to draw other fits on him, just don’t erase the watermark!)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Derek smiling nervously, left hand at his side and the other held up like ‘nya’. He is wearing a black studded collar, a scoop neck black shirt with crying anime eyes, bleach stained light jeans cuffed over black combat boots, and a puffy camouflage jacket with a hood. He also has fingerless gloves and several chains attached to o rings looped around his belt.

2. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark blue long sleeves shirt with thumb holes, frayed hems, and elbow patches under a tattered white tee shirt with horizontal rips that says "blood lust rave" in dripping black font. Beneath are black jeans with a studded belt and red suspenders hanging tucked into knee high burgundy leather combat boots. He has on several gold and silver rings, a tattoo choker, a studded collar, a long necklace with a few rings, and a dark red beanie.

3. Repeat. Derek is wearing a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck under a black Otoboke Beaver tee shirt and loose black jeans tucked into white platform boots. He has several silver rings a silver chain around his neck, and another looped through several o rings around his belt.

4. Repeat. Derek is wearing a loose dark red striped sweater with a rip at the neckline affixed with safety pins, dark wash skinny jeans with multiple rips down the thighs and knees over fishnet tights, and checkered high top sneakers. He has dogtags, a pentagram necklace, and a studded collar around his neck and multiple chains, padlocks, and handcuffs hanging from his belt with o rings.

5. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark loose sweater with thumb holes, a ripped off collar connected with safety pins, and fishnet material from the waist down. It's tucked into loose black skater pants with dangling hooks and suspenders and an askew studded belt, unzipped at the calf to show red material underneath. Black converse peek out beneath the flared cuffs.

6. Repeat. Derek is wearing a white collared shirt under a black tee shirt that says “vampire weekday” in slashy red font and black jeans with red splatter on the knees tucked into red ankle boots. He has on several rings, a few chains and a padlock around his neck, and a studded belt.

7. Repeat. Derek is wearing a short sleeve dark grey button up with a white scallop pattern and rolled sleeves, unbuttoned past his sternum to show off the gold pendant around his neck. The shirt is tucked into dark wash jeans with a snakeskin belt, cuffs rolled to mid calf, a few inches above shiny burgundy ankle boots.

8. Repeat. Derek is wearing a pale lavender turtleneck with black fishnet sleeves that hook around his fingers like gloves tucked into black skinny jeans with a studded belt. He has a thick black studded collar with an o ring and a matching harness strapped across his chest, the center o ring attached to a leash he holds in his left hand. He has several chains attached to o rings at his belt and his jeans are tucked into huge black gothic platform boots with several straps.

9. Repeat. Derek is wearing an oversized black hoodie over distressed and ripped up jeans and scuffed brown hiking boots with the laces double wrapped around his ankles. His hoodie has some red lacing down the arms and at the cuffs, and at the center is a red square with a crying anime girl rendered in black with white lineart. Red text in Japanese on either side reads "lonely vampire"

10. Repeat. Derek is wearing black briefs. /End ID

#wwdits #derek wwdits #paper doll #goth fashion #punk fashion #eboy fashion #shadowsart #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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xzaddyzanakinx · 5 months

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I Crybaby I part two

Mean Punk/Grunge Anakin × Naive Femme Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: demeaning comments, crude behavior, aggression toward reader, hurt/comfort, reader is taken advantage of, Anakin is briefly a creep

Info: Anakin is an ass, like no joke he's really mean. Pierced and tatted Ani, he plays the drums, annoying rude neighbor, modern AU (90's), he might be mean now but I promise he will get better (probably)

NOT PROOFREAD

As the day went on you got yourself ready. A friend from one of your college classes was due to pick you up anytime now. The guy was nice enough to invite you out to go bowling with a group of his friends, knowing you were new and that you didn’t have a solid friend group yet. You were appreciative of the gesture, despite your bubbly personality you found it difficult to keep a steady friendship, it seemed that people took advantage of your naivety, your kindness.

Jacob had promised that his friends were just as great as he was, it was the week after classes had ended for the summer and they had collectively decided it was an atrocity that a girl like you had went the school year without a proper night out with friends.

Wearing a tight red crop top and a cherry patterned short skirt and a pair of white sandals you stepped out side, checking on your hair and makeup one more time in the porch window before sitting on the swing to wait for him to pull up.

Anakin had been watching you from behind his bedroom curtains as you primped and prepared to go out. A mix of annoyance and fascination flickered within him as he observed your movements. He couldn't help but notice the tight red crop top that accentuated your figure and the short cherry-patterned skirt that revealed your toned legs.

Feeling a sudden pang of jealousy, Anakin scoffed to himself as he grabbed his pack of Marlboros and his lighter from the nightstand. He stepped out onto his porch, determined to distract you from whatever event you planned on attending.

Anakin couldn't help but admire how good you looked, despite his attempts to downplay it.

"You're really going all out, aren't you?" he called out, purposely using a sarcastic tone as he walked over, the sound of his combat boots hitting the concrete echoing through the air.

He lit up a cigarette, taking a deliberate drag and letting the smoke linger in the air between you. Smirking at the disgust on your face when the smoke curled around your head, he snickered as he watched you fan it away with your delicate little hands.

Despite his snarky facade, he couldn't help but feel a streak of possessiveness at the thought of you going out with someone other than him.

"What do you mean?" You asked, standing as you saw Jacob's station wagon rounding the corner.

Anakin smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the porch railing, the smoke escaping his lips in a lazy wisp. The sight of Jacob's car approaching only fueled his determination to stir up some trouble.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, princess," he replied, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and annoyance. "Just think you're putting in a lot of effort for some random."

As Jacob's car pulled up, Anakin pushed himself off the railing, making his way over to your driveway with an intentional swagger. He looked Jacob up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, silently sizing him up as if daring him to make a move.

"So, this is the lucky guy, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Better keep a close eye on him, he looks like one of those sleazy types."

Anakin's words were meant to ruffle Jacob's feathers, and to his disappointment, the other boy seemed to be unaffected. He simply stepped aside and leaned against his car, a grin spreading as he watched you leap down the steps.

"Jay-Jay!" You shouted excitedly as he opened the passenger door for you.

Anakin laughed loudly, doubling over before leaning back on his heels, the toes of his shoes leaving the ground. “Jay-Jay?” He mocked.

"Who's this?" Jacob gestured to Anakin, very obviously judging his appearance and behavior.

"He's my neighbor, lives right there." You pointed.

Anakin raised a pierced eyebrow at Jacob's judgmental gaze, his playful smirk never leaving his face. He leaned against the car, deliberately invading Jacob's personal space as he spoke with a self-assured tone.

“Just thought I’d make sure she’s in good hands you know? Gotta watch out for my baby girl.” Anakin replied, leaning into the still open car door to give you a condescending pat on the cheek.

His use of the pet name was deliberate, a subtle reminder that he had taken a liking to you, even if he wasn't ready to admit it. Anakin shot you a mischievous grin as you settled into the car, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned back to Jacob.

You watched the exchange between the two boys. Jacob instantly bristled at the use of Anakin's pet name. He stood up a bit straighter to attempt to tower over Anakin with no luck, since Anakin was obviously much taller, even without the clunky boots he wore. You could tell Anakin liked getting a rise out Jacob, seeing as how his cheeks got red and his fists clenched.

"Take care of her, champ," he said, his tone containing a mix of jealousy and true concern for your safety.

“Can’t believe he said that while I’m standing right there!” Jacob fumed under his breath as he walked around the car to the drivers door. “Little shithead.”

Anakin couldn't help but overhear Jacob's remark as he made his exit. He chuckled to himself, basking in the knowledge that he had effectively managed to get under his skin.

He muttered, his tone tinged with amusement. "Guess I struck a nerve."

With one final wink in your direction, Anakin pushed away from the car and retreated back to his own porch. Leaning back on the porch swing, Anakin took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a protective shield. But deep down, he couldn't ignore the flicker of concern that wormed its way into his thoughts.

He watched as Jacob's car disappeared from view, the distant engine noise fading into the quiet evening. The reality of his own possessiveness began to sink in, causing a mix of conflicting emotions to surge within him. Anakin found himself questioning his motives, the strange connection he felt with you.

With a sigh, he stubbed out his cigarette and stood up from the porch swing.

You were worried that Anakin's behavior would dampen the mood, but it didn't, Jacob quickly recovered to his usual chipper self.

Walking alongside you happily as you entered the bowling alley to meet his friends. Thankfully there were other girls there that immediately took a liking to you, they made you feel like part of the group right away.

As the night went on you formed the opinion that yes, Jacob had some cool friends, and you wouldn’t mind getting to spend more time with them. The girls and you had ordered a few drinks at the bar next door between games and by the time Jacob was ushering you into the car to take you home with a gentle hand on your back, you were more than a bit tipsy.

Soon enough he pulled into the driveway, jogging around the front end of the vehicle to help you out. He chuckled when he saw you had taken off your shoes and were holding them awkwardly in your hands. Your bare feet smacked the pavement and you couldn’t help but giggle.

"Thanks, Jay," you slurred, flashing him a crooked grin. His hand on your waist steadied your loose movements.

"C'mon let's get you inside." He laughed.

As you fumbled with your keys at the front door, Jacob leaned in close, his voice laced with mild concern.

"Careful now, don't want you busting up that pretty face," he teased, gently guiding the key into the lock for you.

The door of Anakin’s home swung open, time for his late night smoke and not at all meant to be a front for spying on you and the stupid guy with an arm around your waist.

"Buh-bye Jay," you slurred, hugging Jacob sleepily.

The boy towered over you, dwarfing you with his larger size. You seemed to small and fragile next to him and it worried Anakin. He leaned in with the intent to kiss you, and of course you remained blissfully unaware of the escalating tension hanging in the air.

Anakin couldn't stand by and watch as another man tried to claim what he saw as his. With a flick of his cigarette, he crushed the butt beneath his boot and rose to his feet. A mix of anger and protectiveness coursed through him as he approached the porch, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Alright, that's enough," Anakin growled, stepping between the two of you. His voice dripped with a toxic combination of aggression and protection.

Jacob stepped back, his expression caught between surprise and annoyance.

“What's your problem, man?" he snapped, clearly taken aback by Anakin's sudden appearance.

Anakin leaned in closer, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can just swoop in and take advantage of a clearly intoxicated girl, huh? You're delusional if you think I’m letting you walk in there with her."

His words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence engulfing the three of you. Anakin's gaze remained fixed on Jacob, his icy stare daring him to make a move.

Jacob, realizing the situation was escalating, backed off slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"Look, man, I didn't mean any harm. I just…. I thought she was into it. My bad." He stuttered.

Anakin's lips twisted into a smile, though it was laced with bitterness.

"Your bad, huh?" he sneered. "Stay the hell away from her. She's off-limits."

Without another word, Jacob turned on his heel, swiftly retreating to his car. The confrontation left a sour taste in the air that dissipated swiftly after Jacob’s car squealed out of your driveway.

Anakin's gaze softened, though his anger still smoldered beneath the surface. He turned his attention to you, remaining silent for a beat before stepping closer, his touch gentle on your exposed shoulder.

"You alright, princess?" he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the venom he had displayed moments ago. His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself searching his face to confirm he was being genuine.

At the realization that he was indeed being serious tears filled your eyes and You pushed the heels of your palms into them to attempt to fight them off, but it was no use. Your mascara was running, no doubt your lipgloss was smeared across your cheek, you were in a disheveled state and couldn’t help but steel yourself for the possibility he would make some terrible jab at you and your situation. You let yourself crumple into yourself as you sunk to the ground, taking a seat on the threshold of your still open front door.

"'S-sorry. I don't mean to be a crybaby." You shot a rude glare at him. Still upset that he had called you that so long ago.

“I feel so stupid!” You cried, your fists against your forehead. “I thought he wanted to be my friend.” Your voice trailed off, broken and quiet.

For a moment, Anakin was at a loss for words, his mind swirling as he scraped the nearly empty barrel of empathy stored in the back room of his brain.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay." he murmured, his voices held a rare tenderness as he knelt down in front of you.

“Want me to beat his ass? I’ll do it.” He tried joking with you, sighing in defeat when it just made you cry harder.

He reached out, his thumb gently tracing along your cheekbone, wiping away each tear that escaped your eyes. Anakin's touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual behavior.

"You're just here to make fun of me."

"Hey, don't talk like that," he said softly, "I'm not here to make fun of you babe." he said, his voice carrying an undertone of genuine affection.

"I can be an asshole sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care.” He smirked, “I do have a shriveled up heart in here somewhere.”

Anakin's confession hung in the air, his words carrying a weight that revealed a deeper layer to his guarded personality.

You were so shell-shocked by his words that your sniffling halted completely, the guy had never said a more than a few grumpy words to you before. Now he was here in front of you, offering Comfort? What bizarre alternate reality had you stumbled into?

“You gonna say something or just stare at me?” He laughed.

“I- sorry.” You cleared your throat and scrubbed at your eyes, managing a half hearted smile, “thank you.”

"Yeah, yeah." He said sarcastically. Offering you his hand, "c'mon. Don't want the whole neighborhood seeing you like this."

You took his hand and let him pull you inside, he closed the front door and looked around, trying to decide what door led to your bedroom. Eventually he chose the correct one and guided you to your pink blanketed bed.

"Where's your stuff at? Like your pjs and shit?" he fumbled through the dresser, shoving the underwear drawer closed immediately, so embarrassed that he saw it he smushed his finger in the process.

"God damnit." he mumbled, shaking his hand. You giggled and pointed to the next drawer down.

He pulled out a set of cotton shorts and a matching shirt, adorned with a cute little Hello Kitty and strawberry print. Anakin held up the clothing, a mix of amusement and surprise playing on his face.

"Really?" he remarked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He handed you the pajamas, his fingersbrushing gently against yours.

"Take your time changing," he said, his voice softening with a newfound tenderness. "I'Il wait here."

Anakin settled himself on your bed, leaning against the headboard, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your figure as you walked into your bathroom. He wanted to give you the space and time you needed to collect yourself, to let the tears subside, but it was awfully hard when you left the door cracked open. Flashes of your legs could be seen as you kicked off your clothes and Anakin was valiantly fighting the urge to drool.

As you changed into your pajamas, his gaze trailed over your legs, appreciating the way the fabric was dragged up and over your curves. Anakin's thoughts wandered to something significantly less than holy, if he was a religious man he would’ve smote down by lightning just for forming those thoughts.

But he shook himself out of the trance, reminding himself to respect your privacy. Once you stumbled out from the bathroom, dressed in your ridiculous, albeit cute, pajamas, Anakin's eyes met yours, a faint smile gracing his lips.

"You did good, princess," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He patted the space next to him, silently inviting you to join him on the bed. It was a small gesture, but a meaningful one, he wanted to create a safe space for you. Anakin genuinely cared about your well-being, at least right now in your drunken state.

He lifted up the blanket for you to crawl under, and patted your head awkwardly as he stood up. Stepping into the bathroom and searching through the cabinet, finding a wash cloth he wet it and then glanced around for soap. Shrugging his shoulders and deciding the hand soap was good enough. Trotting back over to you, dripping soapy water on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

"Close your eyes." he commanded softly.

Gently wiping off the black streaks on your face. The gesture made me sleepy, and soon enough you were half asleep. You heard him chuckled to himself and the wet smack of the washcloth landing in the sink.

"Night." he whispered thinking you were asleep, trailing a finger over your cheek. Soon after you heard the front door open andclose, knowing he'd went back to his house.

You thought maybe after that night Anakin would be a bit more friendly with you, but he'd ignored you even more than before. You were quickly getting exhausted of it. Everyday you’d see him leave his house, you’d wave and he'd ignore it.

Everyday you would see him come back home, You would wave and ask him how his day was and he wouldn't answer. He'd just go straight into his garage to take off his mechanic's jumpsuit. He even came to the diner were you worked at and you had to watch him request a different waitress just so he wouldn't have to speak to you in front of his band mates.

The next few days were more of the same, and you expected it to be no different when clocked in at the diner that afternoon. After sliding your punch card back into its slot you sauntered through the kitchen and greeted your coworkers on your way to the front.

After arriving at the counter you noticed a new flyer pinned to the cork board behind the register. In big bold sharpied letters the word 'Vermin' was followed by a date and time. The description was 'headbang at the hideaway with us.' The location was a well known party spot, an abandoned warehouse.

"Hey, what's this?" You pointed to it, one of the waiters coming over to explain that it was a local band.

"You know the drummer don't you? Blue hair? Tall?” He laughed at your shocked expression, and you explained that you never realized his band was popular enough to get a gig this large.

"Are you going?" You asked excitedly.

"No but I think Kristen and her boyfriend are." He pointed to the other waitress on shift.

You made a mental note to ask her more about it. You decided you were going, and you were going to look good doing it.

After work you went straight to the mall. There was only a day before the event and you knew you didn't have the right clothes.

"Sorry to bother you," Feeling extra brave you walked up to a girl standing outside smoking, she had on a t- shirt similar to one you had seen Anakin wear before. "do you mind if I ask where you got your shirt?"

You smiled, trying to be as polite as possible and not make a fool of yourself. A soft chuckle escaped her, but there wasn't a hint of malice behind it. For some reason you felt that she could be trusted, she had a calming vibe about her.

"Uh yeah, the only alternative store we in town is in there." She laughed, looking you up and down.

"I-| know I don't look the type." You put your head down in embarrassment. "there's this thing I want to go too and I don't want to look out of place."

“Oh don’t tell me it’s for some boy.” She gagged, smiling nonetheless.

“Yeah actually it is.” You blushed, picking at your nails, “Um thanks, I’ll just-“ she interrupted you.

"I'Il help you pick something out m'kay?" She pushed off the wall with her shoulder, her clunky boots smacking the pavement as she threaded her arm through yours and led you into the mall.

It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you, knowing that you wouldn't be left alone and confused in a dimly lit store you’d never stepped foot in. The air was thick with the sound of music and the scent of incense, the cashier cover in various body piercings and tattoos.

The girl took the lead, guiding you towards racks of clothes that resembled something similar to things you’d seen Anakin where before. Together, you flipped through hangers, choosing pieces that were definitely out of your comfort zone, but that you felt like you could easily pull them off.

Feeling like you were in a cheesy movie’s dressing room montage you experimented with band shirts, ripped jeans, and accessories that looked like they could be considered as weapons. Her presence provided a sense of comfort, assuring you that you were on the right track, it helped that she was perfectly comfortable being there herself.

The nerves that had once plagued you were replaced by a growing sense of confidence. The mirror reflected a version of you that felt stronger, more self assured. You were starting to understand the appeal of this type of dress and the scene it went with. The music flowing through the speakers started sounding less like pots, pans and rabid raccoons and more like drums, guitars and harsh vocals.

Finally, you settled on an outfit that made you feel empowered. You looked to your new friend, who had previously insisted despite her birth name being Deborah she was not a total loser and would rather you call her by her middle name, Marie.

"God. You look hot." She nodding her head in approval. “I’d fuck you.”

"Just chop this part off when you get home and you'll be irresistible." She made a scissor motion at the hem and sleeves of the shirt

"Chop it off?" You gasped. "why?"

She laughed, "Just gives it character, it'll make it look like you've worn it before and not like you just got it."

"Here." She dropped a chunky silver chain in your hands with a clip on each end. "that will go on your jeans okay? Then we'll rip some holes in here at your knees. And the shoes you have already are fine, converse go with everything. Let's go."

She pushed you toward the register, then out the doors and guided you towards the back entrance to the mall, stopping just outside the doors. She grinned, yanking the jeans from your bag.

“Don’t flip out.” She warned, grabbing the jeans by the waist and the end of the pant leg.

She pushed the toe of her boot to the fabric where the back of your knee would be and pressed it to the brick wall. She began rapidly sawing the jeans back and forth creating a distressed look. She tipped her head to you and offer the pants to you so you could do the other leg.

The act felt liberating, you’d never purposely destroyed brand new clothes before. Your movements were tentative at first, quickly escalating to something just shy of the force Marie had used. You let out a puff of air that blew your hair out of your face as you turned around to show her the pants.

She gave you an approving smile and tossed your bag over her shoulder, “Follow me, I’ve got some magazines and shit in my car you can have.”

“Magazines?” You questioned, bunching up the jeans in the crook of your arm to jog after her.

“Yeah, like for hair and makeup?” She laughed, headed toward a busted up black hatchback.

“Oh cool okay! Yeah I’d love that!” You giggled and clapped excitedly as she threw open the back seat’s door and ruffled through the mountain of discarded pop bottles, receipts and fast food bags.

“Ignore that.” she huffed when a grocery bag tied up with trash stuffed inside rolled out and onto the pavement.

She shoved the crinkled magazines into your shopping bag of clothes and picked up the trash bag and threw it behind her in her backseat, bumping the door shut with her hip.

“Thank you!” You threw your arms around her shoulders in a crushing hug that she wasn’t expecting, but quickly reciprocated.

“You got a pen in that purse?” She asked when you broke the embrace.

“Uh huh!” You nodded, easily finding it among the highly organized pockets and handed it to her.

She grabbed your wrist and wrote down her phone number, and pointing out the magazine was a subscription and had her address on it.

“I know you’ve got a little planner or address book or some shit like that.” She laughed.

“Yeah I do.” You blushed, smiling because she’d guessed correctly.

“Don’t forget to pencil me in okay babes?” She leaned in and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss like you’d seen people do in foreign films.

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