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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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Infernal Shadows

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: The world we knew by Frank Sinatra.

A/N: I wanna make this a three part short story, so if anyone is interested in being tagged in the second part just let me know!! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 2655

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part two

Getting an invite to the annual crimson ball, hosted by yours truly, was nothing but an honor. Every overlord and every sinner in the pride ring waited anxiously for a letter. A black card with white letter in a cursive font stating ‘You have been personally invited by Hells biggest designer. The list of the gala was simple. The usual overlords, Zestial, Carmilla Carmine and her daughters, Zeezie, Rosie, Fredrick Von Eldritch and Bethesda von Eldritch. Alastor who had came back after seven years of hiding god knows where, and by special request, the three vee’s who had never attended the gala before. Then it becomes a bit more political.

Next on the list was the Goetia family, inviting the recently divorced prince with his daughter. Inviting Lucifer and Lilith, though they only ever came when everyone was gone. Then was their daughter Charlotte, who got a plus one as a special perk of being the princess of hell. Husk because he had been an old friend of yours before his status of Overlord was taken from him by none other than Alastor. He was also given a plus one, though he usually never brought anyone extra. Sir Pentious was a candidate, but ultimately scrapped from your list of invites as you felt he was too childish.

The gala was tonight and everything was going smoothly. Preparations were almost done, the foyer was spotless just the way you liked it, and everything seemed to be falling into place. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had spent months designing your perfect dress for tonight. Everyone attending the gala knew there was only ever one color off limits, because you always wore it best. The color black always suited you perfectly. No one could wear it better than you.

Back at the hotel, Charlie felt guilty for using her authority as princess to have people help her get ready for this gala. Based on what Alastor had told her, there would be a lot of political powers and fellow overlords there. She wanted to look her best if she was going to pitch the hotel to them. She needed more people on board with the project, maybe someone who didn’t think it was complete and utterly ridiculous joke like Alastor did.

“How do I look?” Charlie asked as the makeup and hair artists stepped away from her. Charlie stepped out, allowing Vaggie to get a better look at her in a tailored charcoal gray suit, a departure from her usual vibrant red attire. The jacket, adorned with subtle pinstripes, accentuated her frame, while the crisp, white silk shirt underneath added a touch of formality. Completing the ensemble, she wore a black tie with a discreet pattern that hinted at both elegance and authority. The ensemble was a strategic choice, projecting confidence and a readiness to engage with the political powers present at the gala for the sake of her hotel. Vaggie smiled and hugged Charlie deeply, their embrace making Charlie feel a little less nervous about the whole ordeal.

“Charlie you look amazing. What happened to the red?” Vaggie asked, before Charlie just chuckled.

“Well, I wanted a change for tonight. I’m always in red, and I feel like they’ll take me more serious if I’m not walking in there with my usual attire. Besides, you read the invitation, ‘formal attire, look your best’.” Charlie said. Vaggie nodded, and Charlie pulled back from the hug to admire Vaggie in her dress. She was wearing a sleek and modern grey dress that gracefully embraced the formal occasion. The dress, with its tailored fit and subtle shimmer, exuded class. The knee-length hemline added a contemporary touch, and Vaggie had decided to pair it with black heels to complete the ensemble. The choice of grey complemented Charlie’s charcoal gray suit, creating a coordinated yet distinct look that would surely make an impression at the gala. Charlie felt her cheeks heat up taking in her appearance, her long hair gently pinned back, the loose pieces of hair framing her face.

“Aww, Vaggie you look so pretty!!” Charlie said excitedly. Vaggie just smiled, ignoring the way her cheeks heated up at Charlies compliment.

“I agree, you look good vagina.” Angel said mockingly, causing Vaggie to glare at him. Charlie just gushed.

“Angel be nice. This is really important for the hotel.” Charlie explained. He just nodded, tilting his head back and downing a bottle of liquor. The staff however was interrupted by Angel making a purring sound at Husk, who was dressed in a nice white suave dinner jacket, with perfect cutouts for his wings, along with some sleek black trousers and some black dress shoes. The match, he had a black silk lapel.

“I can think of another place that suit would look.” Angel said, leaning onto Husk. He rolls his eyes, bottle in hand.

“Do I even wanna know?” He asks, and Angel just grins.

“On my bedroom floo-“ Angel doesn’t get to finish, being shrugged off by Husk who just walks away with a shake of his head.

“Oh my gosh! Husk you look amazing!” Charlie squealed in delight. Husk just smiled softly before setting his drink on the bar counter.

“It appears everyone is ready.” Alastor said, the focus of the room shifting to him. Niffty was at his side studying his outfit from head to toe.

Alastor emerged in an ensemble that deviated from his usual eccentricity, opting for a more formal yet captivating look. A deep red velvet tailcoat adorned his frame, its luxurious texture catching the light. Dark-red lapels, meticulously piped with gold, added a touch of opulence. Underneath, he wore a perfectly tailored crimson dress shirt, the power emitting off of him. Suddenly, the room grew just a tad bit darker, the shadows of the room stretching just a bit. Complementing the ensemble, he chose a pair of well-fitted black dress pants, allowing the bold red hue to take center stage on his appearance. His choice of footwear shifted to polished black oxford shoes, a departure from his usual pointed-toe boots. The finishing touches of the outfit included a matching red silk bowtie, neatly knotted at his throat, and black leather gloves that added a refined edge. Alastor’s presence was commanding, radiating an air of formality while retaining the distinctive charm that defined him. The room was captivated by the Radio Demon’s unexpected transformation into a vision of refined class and style.

“You took forever for that?” Niffty said, before Angel Dust tossed a pillow at her.

“Shut it you. We, we are keeping,” Angel said, hands waving around Alastor, “to whatever this is.”

“Style.” Alastor said confidently. Vaggie just face palmed while Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Okay, I think everyone’s ready. Should we head out?” Charlie asked. Vaggie nodded, before Alastor dug the invitation out of his coat pocket. Standing near a wall, he traced the symbol on the back of the card on the wall. “Uh, Al? What are you doing?” Charlie asked. He grinned, putting his hand flat on the wall. The symbol began to glow green, before it opened a portal. On the other side, was a large house. The grand Victorian mansion stood as a testament to opulence, its imposing facade adorned with intricate wrought-iron black railings and embellished balconies with hints of chains. Tall, arched windows with stained glass panels framed the exterior, allowing glimpses of the soft glow emanating from within. The entrance, marked by a sweeping staircase, welcomed guests with ornate, carved intricate detailed doors. Charlie, Vaggie and Husk followed Alastor through the portal, Charlie waving goodbye to Niffty, and Angel. Sir Pentious was most likely hiding out in a room somewhere with his egg boys.

As guests approached, they marveled at the meticulous details of the architecture – elaborate moldings, corbels, and friezes adorned every corner. Ivy-clad walls added a touch of nature’s grace, intertwining with wrought-iron lampposts that cast a warm ambiance over the meticulously landscaped gardens.Inside, the grand foyer unfolded, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail. Crystal chandeliers hung from soaring ceilings, their light refracted by ornate mirrors that lined the walls. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, creating intimate spaces for guests to gather and converse.Every room whispered of a bygone era – intricately patterned wallpaper, gilded frames displaying classical art, and the faint fragrance of aged wood and lavender.

The air was infused with a sense of refinement, transporting guests to a time when elegance reigned supreme. The Victorian mansion, a splendid backdrop for the gala, promised an evening steeped in grandeur and charm. In the middle of the exterior grounds, a grand fountain of blood took center stage. Its sculpted marble figures spouted blood into the air, catching the moonlight in a dance of liquid elegance. The fountain, surrounded by manicured gardens and flowering shrubs, became a focal point for guests as they strolled through the outdoor spaces, the gentle sound of cascading blood adding a serene touch to the gala’s errie atmosphere.

The overlords arrival made the event much more real. Alastor hums to himself as he walks around the outside grounds. There are servants of all kinds walking around with glasses of champagne. Rosie is sitting on a bench, plucking thorns off a rose. Alastor smiles to himself, happy to see a familiar face he know he can confide in.

“Rosie dear! So nice to see you.” Alastor said with a smile. She smiles at him, teeth razor sharp.

“Do you think you’ll be getting a seat tonight?” She asks, snapping the rose off its stem and tossing it to the side.

“Well of course I will. It’d be a mistake if I wasn’t.” Alastor said with a smile, crossing his legs as he sat down next to her. Sinners from all over the pride ring were socializing outside of the large mansion. He knew you were inside finalizing preparations and possibly screaming your head off. Overall, the air was chilled with a comfortable atmosphere. Well, it had been comfortable, until a loud noisy vehicle stopped at the front gates. Everyone’s heads were turning, Rosie and Alastor looking at each other with strained smiles. Stepping out of the large limousine were the three vee’s, vulgar music blaring from the vehicles speakers as the three made their way through the now open gates. Reporters lined the edges of the gates, trying desperately to see the overlords inside and to try and sneak into the gala, which was starting soon.

“Mr.Vox! Mr.Vox!” News reporters shouted. Velvet was busy taking selfies of her and her outfit, her assistant following close behind her. Valentino was busy looking down at everyone, smoking his usual, while taking his long strides next to Vox, who was in the middle of the three.

On Vox’s right was Valentino, who donned a captivating look for the gala. His tailored white suit boasted a jacket that reached just above the knee, a subtle departure from his usual floor-length coat. The crimson silk lining peeked through, adding a luxurious touch to the outfit. The coat, reminiscent of his extravagant style, also had a vivid-red hue with his signature white fur trim at the wrists. The black and white striped fur trim along the center-front added a distinctive flair. A gold chain and love-heart-shaped broach fastenings adorned the coat, creating an opulent yet alluring look. Finally, he wore polished black heeled boots, maintaining the sleek and captivating allure that defined Valentino’s presence. The familiar color scheme remained intact, blending sophistication with a hint of provocative charm for the grand gala.

On Vox’s left was Velvet, who had spent months perfecting her outfit for the gala, in hopes she’d be invited of course. She had begged the boys to keep a good public appearance, in hopes they’d be recognized and invited to the crimson gala. Velvette, deciding to ditch her usual style, embraced a lavish and over-the-top look that represented her brand. Dressed in a knee-length dress, the garment had a striking blend of black and red hues. The dress, fitted at the waist, flowed into a voluminous skirt, creating a sense of extravagance. The bodice of the dress featured intricate lace detailing. A white collar adorned with a velvet bow added a playful yet mature flair. The sleeves, a fusion of burgundy and white patterns, contributed to the overall lavish aesthetic she had been going for. Her accessories took on a more refined form. Velvet gloves, adorned with delicate lace, graced her hands, and a pearl necklace adorned her neck, adding a classic touch, completed with maroon heels, each step resonating with a sense of grandeur. Velvet’s transformation into this upscale attire reflected her desire to make a statement at the Crimson Gala.

In the middle, and the brains of the three vee’s, was none other than the head of Vox Tech, Vox himself. He wore a sleek and modern dark blue tuxedo, tailored with precision. Of course he could only have the best. The suit featured subtle futuristic patterns that enhanced his ‘perfect’ sense of style. To complement his high-tech vibe, Vox wore a light blue undershirt with an upside-down broadcast symbol. Vox's gala attire seamlessly blended power and control with his technological edge, creating a memorable look in shades of dark blue, which in his opinion, was the best color.

Upon seeing Alastor, Vox’s eye twitched noticeably. The gates shut behind the three vee’s, closing off the gala to the public. The overlords begin to get closer together unknowingly, Zestial finding a comfortable corner to watch things play out. Carmilla and Zeezie stand close together, whispering to one another as both Rosie and Alastor stand from the bench. Vox, Valentino and Velvet make their way to the Radio Demon and his colleagues.

“I see the grandpa’s were invited.” Velvet says with a scoff, scrolling through her phone.

“So disrespectful.” Carmilla says under her breath, looking away from the three vee’s.

“Hm, interesting, and I was beginning to think the only interesting thing tonight would be the dinner.” Bethesda said, her brother nodding.

“Well, it seems the children brought their play date to the public then.” Zeezie says. The other overlords laugh and Valentino sneers at her.

“Well an idiota like you would think so. Then again, don’t you all do the same with your diapers?” He asked, puffing the smoke into her face. She growls at him, fists clenching at her side, but Carmilla stops her.

“Didn’t they say this was an adult only gala?” Carmilla asked, Rosie chuckling at her words.

“Oh can it grandma.” Velvete said. But Vox remained silent, having his own personal staring match with Alastor, whose smile was stretched ear to ear, teeth on full display.

“I thought this gala was meant for real talent?” Vox asked, stepping closer to Alastor.

“Well it was until you showed up.” Alastor said with a smile. “There’s no originality in copying someone else.” He tuts. Vox narrows his eyes, face twisting with anger as he steps closer to Alastor again.

“You wanna tell me something, you old piece of-“ Vox is stopped, the lights to the exterior of the mansion dimming. The lights behind the large front doors opening slowly. Two tall black shadowy figures stepped from the door, smoke at their feet.

“Thank you all for your attendance. As we know, the annual Crimson Gala is held every year, and this year is no different. With the new extermination date, important decisions must be made. Tonight, ten individuals will be selected to sit at Madame’s table where she will discuss private plans on how to move forward.” The two said in unison. Everyone fell silent as more shadows appeared, each one sitting on the sides of the steps. Lights around the staircases began to light up, and people began making their way up the stairs.

“Well~ this should be fun.”

4K notes · View notes

inuyashaluver · 19 days

Note

Hi!!! How are things? Idk if you saw the picture of Leah in the black pinstripe suit… suffice to say I’ve been having thoughts… and a request pinged through my mind: Leah meeting reader while wearing the suit (first time meeting; connection at first glance) and Leah stays by reader’s side throughout the evening. Heavy flirting, touchy, more dominant bf Leah who brings reader into her arms (basically takes control😩) and suring conti cup celebrations, Leah sees reader wearing her suit jacket and gets cocky. I’m thinking reader is the mysterious hot babe who everyone is wondering about

Love your work and thank you for the Jenni and Misa fics❤️❤️

suit and tie - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which a pretty blonde steals your heart with her suit and tie

warnings: flirty, flirty, flirty, swearing, suggestive

a/n: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE, TURN IT UP - you guys can’t expect me to react normally about this picture, come on! thank you for the love, gorgeous, enjoyyyyy xx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and leah never believed in love at first sight until you both laid eyes on each other. the instant attraction was obvious for the both of you, hence why as soon as your eyes made contact, you knew you needed to have each other.

—

leah wasn’t really much of a party person. sure, she had fun at parties, but if you were to ask her how she wanted to spend a rare saturday she had off, it most definitely was not at a party.

but because leah values loyalty, when her best friend, alex, begged her to come to a british vogue party, full of the uk’s best in 2022, who was she to decline the puppy dog eyes?

and so, with effective convincing, leah shrugged on her best suit, resisting the eye roll when her best friend assured her this party would be fantastic.

you also weren’t really much of a party person ever, but because of your field of work, you always got dragged to them.

you’re a sports journalist and interviewer. one that was extremely valued not only in the football community, but other sports also.

you took great pride in actually taking time to do your research, to know about your athletes and asked them the questions that actually mattered.

at this time, you were quite new, not really having the opportunity to meet a lot of athletes, including leah.

it took you a while to get to leah’s side of the pitch, and before you had met, you weren’t even doing anything on the field, rather being the one on the television talking about stats and predictions for the games.

—

when leah walked in the room that night, the atmosphere was bustling and she was already regretting coming.

though she held herself well, posture up right with a confident smile present as she walked through the crowds, exchanging polite conversation with familiar faces.

she found a name card with her name on it settled on a table near the back of the room, dimly lit with candlelight amongst the chatter and clinking glasses amongst the room.

she settled, adjusting her suit jacket, slightly tousling her hair in frustration at realising alex wasn’t even sitting on the table with her.

she didn’t know anyone here, about to pull out her phone until she heard a gentle “excuse me, sorry, could i just get through?” sounding from behind her, someone came up next to her and leaned forward to examine the name card next to hers.

a dizzying scent of vanilla flooded her senses, her eyes subconsciously following the smell to look up at the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in her life. it wasn’t even an exaggeration.

her mouth slightly hung open as she met the person’s eyes, this person being you. you were slightly shocked when you and leah made eye contact, feeling your breath hitch at how gorgeous she was.

everything in the room faded as leah looked at you, there was just something irresistible about you that leah couldn’t comprehend, she hadn’t even said a word to you yet.

after what felt like an eternity, you send a quick smile, pulling out the chair and sitting next to her, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

leah gave herself an internal pep talk, turning slightly to you, her hand extending to yours, “hi, i’m leah” she pronounces, making you look over at her with a surprised smile, a little giggle escaping your mouth, sent straight to leah’s heart which felt like was hammering out of her chest.

you place your hand in hers, shaking it gently with a charming smile, you were so nervous, the girl’s gaze not helping you at all. “(y/n)” you share, enjoying how soft her hands felt against yours,

“it’s lovely to meet you” she grins, “likewise” an electric current passed between you before you reluctantly returned your hands to your laps.

you stayed silent for a moment, before nudging her shoulder with yours softly, “did you get dragged to this as well?” you whisper, leah chuckles.

you don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to someone in your life and you’ve just met her. leah was feeling the exact same, wanting to impress you and really hoping she doesn’t fuck this up.

“i did actually” she laughs, “don’t tell me you were as well?” she smiles at you, you nod with a grin, “indeed i was” you sigh, taking a swig of the complementary cocktail on the table, wincing when you took a sip.

“what the fuck is that?” you cough, leah looks over at you in surprise, “that bad?” she says with a laugh, watching as you take a sip of some water,

“disgusting, haven’t you tried it?” you grimace, she shakes her head, “if i had it, so do you” you demand, making the blonde laugh in disbelief.

“who made up that rule?” she challenges amusingly, you grab her glass, lifting her hand and directing her fingers over it, pressing your hand over hers for a moment and she swears her body was on fire.

“i did, drink up then, go on” you smile sweetly, leah offers you another smile, shaking her head with a little laugh before she took a little sip of the drink, matching your wince with how bad it was.

you laugh brightly at her expression, making her heart swell with pride, wanting to make you laugh like that again.

“that’s awful” she affirms, “i can’t believe you made me drink that, i thought we had something going here” she flirts, you smirk knowingly, understanding that both of you caught each other’s drift.

leah just exuded confidence, now leaning her head on her hand resting on the table, adjusting so she could face you. you offer her an amused expression, angling your body to mirror her position.

“we can suffer together?” you say cheekily, leah huffs out a laugh, “come to the bar with me?” she offers, you nod instantly, watching as she stood first, her hand held out to you.

you accepted it gratefully, letting her pull you out of your seat, and once you were upright, her hand made its way to the small of your back, directing you through the crowded room.

when you both reached the bar, she made you stand in front of her slightly in a protective nature, leaning down to speak into your ear directly,

“what would you like, gorgeous?” you swallowed the lump in your throat, telling her what you wanted and watching as she ordered for you and her without hesitation.

you turn around to face her as you both waited for the drinks to be prepared, seemingly busy. she offered you a charming smile as you met her gaze head on, feeling a little nervous at the intensity of her stare.

your eyes trail to her suit and back up to her face, apparently exposing yourself leah could clearly tell you were adorning her attire.

she silently challenges you with a cheeky grin, “you alright, pretty girl?” you return her smirk, feeling a little confident yourself, feeling comfortable with leah.

“just appreciating a good suit” you shrug, your hand extending slightly to trace the lapel of it with your finger, leah watched your movement with sharp eyes, barely breathing at your proximity.

“or maybe i’m appreciating the woman in it?” you say innocently, leah flatlined right there. she chuckled lowly, moving closer to you slightly,

“well you’re a sight for sore eyes” leah drawled, hand resting on your hip for a moment before her head nodded towards the drinks now placed on the bar behind you.

her hand seeks refuge on your lower back again, effectively weaving through the room to your seats again. leah only got rid of the contact to pull out your chair, offering you a sweet smile while she gestured you to sit.

when she sat down next to you, her chair was essentially pressed up against yours, her thigh slightly brushing yours, sending a shiver up both of your spine’s.

“so, leah, tell me about yourself” leah and you both share a little giggle, flirting shamelessly as she talked about her, you listened to her intently, she fell for you a little more at seeing you actively listening to her.

you were asking her questions to clarify when you didn’t understand, sharing your own words but not in an overbearing way, adding to the conversation in a way that made things fluid. easy. familiar.

when the blonde directed her own interrogation on you, she listened to each word with extreme focus, smiling when she’d catch your gaze, both of you somehow managing eye contact.

it was like a first date, the way you both shared parts of your lives, it certainly felt like one.

it was clear there was a spark there, the amount of things you had in common was uncanny. both of your hearts raced a little faster when you thought about where this could potentially go, you two were perfect for each other.

the air between the two of you was thickened with anticipation and attraction, the flirting making both of your stomach’s absolutely flip. there was just something so magnetising about the two of you, irresistible like a moth to a light.

her laugh was infectious and so was yours, a smile cracking between the two of you that had your cheeks hurting. each exchanged glance and playful piece of banter made the tension simmer, both of you slowly drawing each other in.

“do you want to dance?” you said with kind eyes, leah nods without hesitation, letting you drag her to the dance floor.

the two of you danced with shared giggles, lingering touches as your bodies moved together. and even though leah and you had obviously skipped multiple steps with each other, she remained respectful, not pushing any boundaries as she danced with you.

you appreciated it, appreciated her and she most definitely appreciated you. the thought of her fucking this up eating her alive and it hadn’t even happened.

“i wasn’t going to come tonight but i’m happy i did” leah said next to your ear, goosebumps rising on your skin when her breath gently grazed it. you smile at her, “me too” your hand moving to gently squeeze her bicep.

you both made way to the table once more after you both got tired, basically sitting on top of each other at this point. you continued to chat and laugh together, feeling like you’d known each other all your lives.

as the night progressed, your hands went over your arms due to a little chill suddenly being present in the room. leah was extremely observant, shrugging off her jacket and slipping it over your shoulders.

you open your mouth to protest but leah fixes you with a little glare, making you roll your eyes slightly before you let her direct your arms into the jacket, her scent making you smile as it surrounded you, more than it already was.

the party was slowly filtering out and you and leah prolonged it as much as you could until essentially getting kicked out.

she walks you out with your arm around her bicep, smiling at people as you walked past. you were both outside and gave each other slightly sad smiles, the thought of the night ending leaving a little crack in both of your hearts.

“i had a lot of fun with you tonight” you smile at her, “so did i, a lot of fun” she smiles back, her eyes trailing all over your face as you looked at each other.

“so, williamson, can i have your number?” you say cheekily, your cheeks a little pink as you asked, leah smiles fondly, nodding and fishing her phone out of her bag, prompting you to do the same. “beat me to it, cheeky”

you exchanged numbers, hands brushing against each other’s as you gave back one another’s phone.

“i have to say, you suit that jacket a lot better than me” she smirks, you shake your head, “thank you, but you’re otherworldly in this” you flirt, making her cheeks burn as she avoided your gaze for a moment.

her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek for a moment with a chuckle, taking the leap and pulling you closer so her lips were ghosting yours.

her eyes bore into yours, glancing down at your lips as her breath fanned them gently, your heart spiked, feeling incredibly warm.

your eyes flicker down at hers before she closed the gap, her lips moving softly with yours. you sigh against her as she pulls you closer by your hips, your hand gently holding the side of her neck as you kissed her.

she pulls away with a sharp breath, her breath mingling with yours as her forehead resting against yours. “let me take you out, tomorrow?” she says almost a little desperately, but you both were honestly.

“okay” you breathe out, she smiles before pressing a tender kiss to your mouth, her thumbs rubbing gently over your waist as she pulled away at arms length.

you smile at her sheepishly, her sporting her own shy smile as she looked at you. the two of you giggle again, not really believing the circumstances of kissing your dream girl and going on a date the next day.

she waits until you get picked up by your taxi, pulling you into a warm hug, the embrace soft and gentle, contrasting the insufferable flirting you’d been torturing each other with all night.

“i’ll give you back your jacket on our date” you say cheesily, leah laughs, brushing a stray hair away from your face before she cradles your cheek, her thumb brushing over your cheekbone affectionately.

she presses a parting kiss to your lips, “can’t wait, baby” she whispers against you, pecking your mouth again quickly before she ushered you to go home, not wanting you to linger out in the cold.

you texted all night, sleeping at an ungodly time but it was all worth it. leah took you on that date and you both fell in love, suddenly claiming yourselves as party people.

—

you’d now been dating for a little over two years, infatuated an understatement for your relationship. you moved in together, both of you flourishing with each other in your respective careers but also with one another.

people knew the two of you were dating, you were the definition of private but not a secret. your social media for each other was essentially a shrine.

—

it was the continental cup final, arsenal vs chelsea. you and alex were the main journalists covering the match that leah was extremely excited about.

during warm ups, she threw you a cocky grin with a wink as she saw you getting mic’d up, only growing when she realised what you were wearing.

the blazer from the night she swept you off your feet all those years ago. you wave at her when she blows you a kiss with a wave, grinning as alex teased the both of you while you both prepared.

when the final whistle blew and leah got dragged into a group hug, she bounded over to you.

“arsenal have won the continental cup!” you exclaim, feeling a body attach to you from behind, strong arms wrapped around your middle while multiple kisses were pressed to your cheeks.

you lean back into the body, already knowing it was your girlfriend’s. “leah williamson is clearly happy about the win” alex teases, making leah smile against your cheek,

her hand moves over yours holding the microphone, “very happy” she chuckles, moving to stand next to you with her hand on your hips, staying for a short interview conducted by alex.

you gave her heart eyes the whole time, buzzing with excitement to congratulate her properly off camera. if you weren’t confirmed officially with the blonde, you definitely were now.

as soon as the staff yelled ‘cut’, leah pulled you into a kiss, your arms wound around her neck as her arms went around your waist again.

“hi, gorgeous” she mumbles against your lips, “hey, champion” you grin proudly, pecking her lips a couple of times while she smiles down at you.

“congratulations, my winner” you pinch her cheek softly, she moves her head quickly to jokingly bite your finger, relishing in the giggle she elicited from you. “thank you, my girl” she winks,

“this is a nice blazer, where’d you get this?” she teases, you can’t help but smile at her, “oh, it’s my girlfriend’s” you kiss her again, her hands move to squeeze your hips.

“you look absolutely gorgeous” she breathes out, “so sweet, my love, so do you” you grin, leah smirks, “i prefer you with nothing on but that’s for my eyes only” she says lowly in your ear, you gasp and slap her shoulder lightly,

“you can’t be sweet for two seconds-” you scold, cut off with her lips against yours again in a gentle kiss, making you hum against her before you ushered her to get her medal and lift the trophy.

after the trophy was lifted, she made a quick effort to grab a bottle of champagne and chase you around with it, threatening to spray it on you. you both laugh loudly as you ran around the pitch, your hearts full of affection for each other.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you and leah’s blazer 🫠! ily alex x

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leahwilliamsonn: double win if you ask me

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yourname: so cheesyyyyyy

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you love it

↳ yourname: do i?

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh you definitely do

↳ yourname: don’t be so sure of yourself, williamson

↳ leahwilliamsonn: extremely. thin. ice.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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scary-ivy · 2 years

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Today I wore a kind of gothic and masc outfit to the store and a little kid stared at me for a bit

#idk why I didn't look that weird #i was just wearing a haunted mansion shirt and pinstripe pants and a black baseball cap with pride pins all over it #very hot topic reject vibes

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its-warm-in-here · 3 months

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Teeth

Oh hell, I'm writing again. Let's see if this has legs, maybe I'll write a follow-up.

Alastor x !DeerDemon! Reader

Warnings: imbalance of power, cannibalism

The fact that he’s humming is the opposite of comforting.

Alastor’s room was, even compared to the rest of the hotel, bizarre. The whole foyer resembles a hunting lodge, complete with roaring hearth, mounted antlers and furniture made of bone. Nervous, you shift from hoof to hoof in the entryway, tail straight up and hair on end. If you crossed this precipes, you’d be in the lion's den. No matter how much he resembled other cervid sinners. This demon had killed and devoured countless others, and based on his furnishing, he had a particular fondness for deer. Instead of ending in a wall or window, the back of the room gives way to another realm. Like someone had punched a forest into the inbetween space of the hotel walls. You wonder how far back it went, or if there was even an end.

A staticky wail from the gramophone snapped you back to reality. The sound gave way to easy jazz and Alastor turned the music down a bit, that ever-present smile playing on his wide mouth. “No need to be shy, my deer. This shouldn't take more than a moment.” With a lip worry, you hesitate. Sure you’d said yes to this, but you’d expected a quick bite, just a sample, not whatever this performance was. Was he trying to put you at ease? Because he’s failing spectacularly. “Besides, it's quite rude to linger in doorways. Especially when you’ve already been invited in.”

With one last breath, you step into the room. Its distinctly cooler than the hallway even with the fireplace. It is probably due to having a literal forest embedded into it, but it makes you shiver. Still humming, Alastor loops around, shutting the door behind you and ushering you further into his abode with a hand at your waist. “I just...have never done anything like this before,” you mumble. He seats you at one of the two chairs. You’re pretty sure that the leather is elk hide. You hope it is an elk at least. Elks are assholes.

“Neither have I. Invigorating, isn't it?” Alastor chirps. Once more, he circles around, stripping that ever present, pinstripe coat off and draping it over the opposite seat. It catches you off guard, you’ve never seen him without it. Hell, you doubt that anyone in the whole hotel had ever seen him without it. Though, Alastor is hardly vulnerable. If anything, you’re even more unsettled than before. As if this was a relaxing experience for him. It's just a quick glance, just before he turns to face you, but you swear you spot the tuft of a red tail at the top of his trousers. That makes your stomach twist. Since arriving in the Pride Circle, not once could you have ever considered consuming another conscious being, let alone one that was alive and in the same vein of sinner.

Yet, Alastor seemed to revel in it.

Bouncing your knees, your hooves send a steady tapping rhythm through the room. “I don't know if I'd use those words exactly.”

“No need to be nervous. Im not set to devour you whole,” his hand comes to rest over your clasped fingers. The bouncing halts. “Never in all my time in Hell have I seen a sinner with quite an impressive regenerative ability. A little nip here-” fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, exposing the junction where your neck met your shoulder, “-will heal up in an instant.”

You rub the skin he’s touched, finally meeting those red eyes of his. “There’s a bit of a difference from getting hit by a drunk driver, peeling myself up like road kill and letting an overlord munch on me though.” Alastor’s eyes flash. This activity excited him far more than it should in your humble opinion.

“Well, if its boundaries that worry you, we can always make a deal instead, hm?” he leers, knowing full well that the deal might give some ground rules for whatever this fucked up relationship was, but would give him even more sway over you.

Jerking back, you jab him in the chest, “We’re starting with one bite. Don't push your luck, Alastor.”

He smiles, stands, then shrugs, “Well, let's get started then.”

With a huff, you undo the top few buttons of your dress shirt and half yank off the sleeve, wanting to avoid any unnecessary mess. Cool hands close over your shoulders and the skin to skin contact makes you jump. For someone who hated being touched, Alastor sure loved to make others uncomfortable using his own. There’s a flash of teeth and you feel the fringe of his hair at your cheek, then a moment of hesitation. It's in that you realize he’s smelling you. Anyone else this could be intimate, romantic even, but the underlying motivations are all the wrong kind of carnal. “If we're doing this can we--”

Alastor bites down, sharp teeth cutting deep into the meat of your shoulder. It's a sharp pain and a cry builds in your throat. You press your palms flat to his chest, ready to heave the Radio Demon off with all your strength. There's a swift pull at your flesh. You try to scream, letting the pain out, but Alastor’s hand closes over your mouth, muffling the cry. Scrambling further back in the chair, you try to cover the new wound, but Alastor still has you in a vice grip. His eyes are gently closed as he chews, small noises of pleasure like someone enjoying the first bite of a luxurious meal. God, it makes your stomach turn. The sheer amount of delight he was getting from literally eating you alive.

Still you can't help but wonder... How... do you taste?

The vial thought is pushed to the side the moment Alastor leaned in for seconds. “Whoa, hey!” you shove back, “One bite, we said one!” His teeth are already primed against your shoulder, pricking torn flesh, but he retreats, smug smile spread firmly in place. Best you can, you glance at your shoulder. It's a jagged bite, stretching from the line of your collarbone to the top of your trapezius exposing muscles and tendons. But not deep enough to reach bone. The wide gash is already beginning to knit itself together and the pain is fading with it. Letting out a breath, you fall back in the chair.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Alastor teases, tracing his thumb over the edge of the wound, threatening to jab the digit in. You swat his hand away and shoot a glare up at him. With a huff, you yank the sleeve back up and do your best to ignore the self-satisfied overlord.

“That hurt, you know,” you snap, righting your outfit.

“I barely broke skin!” Alastor insists with a sing-song voice, “And I doubt my nibble was much worse than that oncoming truck.” His tongue traces the line of his teeth. “That was quite a toothsome treat, my deer. Maybe next time we could make a full meal of it.”

“Next time...” your mind wanders to how much that could hurt and if there even should be a next time. The words are under your breath but his ears prick up at the utterance.

“If you’re interested in continuing with this little arrangement, that is,” he interjects.”But what kind of a deal maker would I be if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.” Right! The whole reason you’d agreed to this whole verbal agreement in the first place. You hop to your feet, a playful smile spreading over your face. “So what’ll it be? Now, don't expect much from our little understanding, but I'm a man of my word. One simple request that is in my power, is yours.” Alastor gives his microphone/cane a twirl before his gaze narrows, testing you.

Lots of things spring to mind. A bigger room at the hotel. A dance. Something to prank Angel Dust with. All the while you ponder, Alastor stoops, bending at the waist to make sure you knew you were being watched. A mistake on his part. Staring him dead in the face, you match his cheshire cat grin. “That's because I did this as a favor. I don’t need anything.”

“Come now, I’m offering this as a courtesy.”

“Afraid I'd hold something over you, Alastor?” you tease. He’s dangerously close now. Smug. Your lips twitch, but your smile stays glued. The miniscule respect he had in this moment would evaporate the moment it fell. “Well, I suppose there is one tiny thing I do want.”

Your hands dart to the top of his head, and fingers close over his ears. They are stiff but bend with a bit of pressure, and the fur is soft even as it bristles at your touch. For a moment, a breath is held and Alastor does not react, frozen in place. Then the world around shifts. Darkness closes in tight and any breath leaves the room. The gramaphon's soft music swells to an ungodly static. The corners of Alastor’s mouth twitch into an impossibly broad, neon grin, and the air around you buzzes with raw energy. The red of his eyes deepen to pitch black aside from two pinpricks of dial shaped irises. He does not move, but his shadow shifts, reshaping into something awful on the wall behind. In this moment he could snuff out your hellish existence.

Oh, to wield such power.

And you let go. Arms go up in surrender and you retreat a few steps. “And we're even.”

Just like that, the room snaps back. The strange cold ebbs away as pine and fire rush back into your nostrils. Your host relaxes, stepping back towards the exit and leveling a judging eye. It's a quick flourish, and his jacket is back in place. All the walls are back up. Alastor's face turns down just a touch before settling to a sly smirk and then he bends in a half bow. Not low enough to make you feel respected, but enough to put an end to the interaction. Your smile turns to pride as you mime the gesture. “That was surprisingly pleasant, all things considered,” you muse as you strut past him. Alastor may have finally gotten a chunk off you, that’d been something he’d been craving since you’d arrived in this place.

But you’d gotten something no one else ever had and lived.

Before you can step out of the room, Alastor’s hand closes over your forearm and you freeze. Terror courses through your veins. While there was no killing in the hotel, that didn't mean a powerful overlord couldn’t trap you in some pocket-torture dimension for overstepping. “I would suggest keeping this little exchange between us, hmm?” Nails bite into the meat of your arm, almost as sharp as his teeth. That grin is ever present, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. A threat.

You chew the inside of your cheek. Sure Charlie and Vaggie allowed for a few vices in the hotel, but this would probably be at the bottom of their list for team building activities. “Understood,” you say with a curt nod.

Alastor’s fingers drum once and he releases you. “Lovely,” the charismatic note bounces back into his voice, “Now, what do you say to some etouffee? It might be a bit early in the day but after that little appetizer, I’m positively ravenous for something more substantial.” With that, he sweeps past you into the hall.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor x reader #reader is a deer demon #alastor is a cannibal #dont like dont read #this is kinda gross #but so is the radio demon #sorry not sorry #asexual Alastor

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sunbrightheart · 6 days

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ACOTAR MEN AND THE SPORTS I THINK THEY WOULD PLAY:

note: this is all up for interpretation, so feel free to list your suggestions in the comments !!

rhysand: definitely a big shot baseball player. can imagine him in the traditional pinstriped yankees uniform. real smug bastard on the field, mind-fuck strategist.

cassian: is a beast at heavy weight sports, but this man cannot run to save his life. prefers more stationary sports like boxing and wrestling. competes in weightlifting events for fun.

azriel: only participates in team sports if cassian and rhysand are playing, but i think he would thrive in individual or one-on-one sports. martial arts like bjj (brazilian jiu-jitsu) and judo are his best.

tamlin: this man screams front row prop. say your thoughts and prayers because he will quite literally go beast mode and bulldoze you over. always getting carded and warnings because he can’t reign in his temper.

lucien: now call me biased but lucien is a jack of all trades. he dabbles in all sorts of sports, mostly of which are unconventional, and is really good at them once he puts his mind to it. that being said i would say he plays a mix of track and field, lacrosse and volleyball. occasionally does archery and swimming.

tarquin: any and all water sports and baby tarquin is undefeated. loves waterpolo and competitive swimming.

varian: wind-surfing, for sure. i would also say rowing; amren especially loves his arms.

helion: is definitely a former rugby jock. a literal powerhouse on and off the field. those thunder thighs be THIGHING. also dabbles in shot put because i feel like he would unironically be really good at it.

thesan: he gives me major badminton vibes. i dont know why, but just racket sports in general??????

kallias: any and all winter sports and kallias is there. a pro at ice hockey and speed skating. likes to do duo figure skating with viviane.

beron: is literally one of those middle age, upper middle class white men who spend all their free time at the country club, sipping on top shelf whiskey and abusing the clubs workers. probably plays golf and tennis, croquet too but hes too prideful and thinks its for old people.

#࿓ brightheart.#i will do a part two for the acotar women #acotar #acotar men #a court of thorns and roses #lucien vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #helion spell cleaver #thesan acotar #kallias acotar #cassian acotar #rhysand acotar #beron vanserra #tarquin acotar #varian acotar

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renx01 · 1 month

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Betrayed

Prompt: Your father is the head of a criminal enterprise, one which has come onto the kingsman’s radar. Galahad has the task to get closer to said head, so he starts dating you. After a lot of apprehension on your side, you finally let your walls be broken down by him. That is until you find out that he’s been using you all along. Pairing: Harry Hart x (GN!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: angst, manipulation, established relationship Word count: 2569

A soft knock on the front-door of your apartment draws you from the book you were reading, pride and prejudice. You had started reading it after your boyfriend, Harry, had recommended it to you. Standing up, you quietly walk to the door and look through the peep-hole. It was him, which was unexpected and unusual, but it excited you nonetheless, as it had been quite a while since you last saw him. He had been away on a business trip to Canada for two weeks and the time difference made calling a challenge, especially with his job requiring to stay up late often. Opening the door, you notice that he’s wearing a new suit. While it still fits his usual colour-scheme with it being a darker grey with a white pinstripe, it has some red detailing around the buttons. The fit of the three-piece-suit was impeccable as always, accentuating him in all the right places. ‘Evening Harry.’ Your voice is cheerful as you greet him, ‘ I wasn’t expecting you to be back yet.’ He smiles softly at you, ‘I was hoping to surprise you.’ Leaning down, he kisses you, after which he pulls you into a hug.

‘I missed you, love.’ You tighten your grip around him. ‘I missed you too.’

Ever since the two of you had started dating three years ago, the two of you saw each-other at least twice a week when he wasn’t on a business-trip. He kisses the top of your head before slowly letting go of the hug. ‘Tea?’ You ask him as you walk towards the kitchen, ‘or would you prefer something stronger?’ It was half past eight on a Friday evening, so having a glass of wine or bourbon together wasn’t out of the ordinary. ‘How about some whiskey?’ He replies following you, his hand on the small of your back. ‘Sounds lovely’ you smile, ‘I should have some in my liquor cabinet.’ While you grab two glasses, he looks at your collection. Since you started seeing him it has grown significantly. He enjoyed teaching you about all the different types of liquor and what effects certain techniques may have if applied to the distilling process. ‘This one?’ He holds up a bottle of Scotch after kneeling down to grab it. It was one of your favourites and he had recently bought you a new one while in Scotland. Nodding, ‘You know me too well dear.’

The two of you sit down in your home library, where you had also been sitting previously. It was your favourite place to be in, as it reminded you of your grandparent’s mansion in Italy, which you had often visited while growing up. You have always been quite the reader, so their library provided many of the books you read as a child. ‘Excuse the mess, I’ve been reading and writing all day.’ You apologise for the clutter in your desk and the many books which lay folded open next to your reading chair, annotations sprawling across their pages. ‘Don’t worry my dear,’ he smiles as he sits down across from you, ‘we both know that this is a normal part of your creative process.’ Once you’ve set down your glasses onto the table that’s standing between the two of you, he fills them with the liquor of his choice. ‘So please, don’t apologise.’ After all this time, you still felt flustered at times. He was always so well-put-together, with his exterior almost always being perfect. It was the exact opposite of how you felt at times, yet he encouraged and supported you, telling you many times that one can never be perfect and that you should be comfortable in whatever clothes you decide to wear. ‘To us.’ He states, clinking his glass to yours. ‘To us.’ You reply before tasting the brown liquid. It was as delicious as you’d remembered it to be.

‘I see you’ve picked up Austen? Is it to your liking?’ After thinking for a moment you reply, ‘I’m enjoying it quite a bit, though I am still uncertain what to think of Darcy.’ ‘Ah yes, Mr. Darcy is quite a complicated man. I suppose depending on the type of relationship one holds with him the experience can be quite different.’ He muses. The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, reading, and drinking scotch. Only at three in the morning did you realise how much time had passed. Because of this, Harry decided to stay the night at your place. Luckily he always had some spare clothes and his own toiletries at your place. Once he’s gotten changed into his pyjamas, he joins you in the bathroom as you are brushing your teeth. Reaching over your shoulder, he grabs his own toothbrush and starts doing the same. His hair is slightly messy, with some of its waves cascading down his forehead rather than them being pushed back. He had also taken off his glasses, which made him appear slightly younger and less serious, at least to an extent.

‘Enjoying the view?’ Harry jokes as he catches you staring at him through the mirror. ‘Why yes of course,’ you turn to face him, ‘mister Hart.’ He smiles down at you. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself my love.’ Leaning in, he tenderly kisses you, slowly becoming more passionate when you put your hands into his hair, pulling him closer. Pulling away, he puts his forehead to yours. ‘We should take this to the bedroom.’

The next morning you wake up relatively late, around eleven o’clock. Harry lay there with his arm around you, his pyjama shirt still open. Soft snores fill your ear, it was quite cute to see him sleeping so peacefully. He isn’t like this often, and it is quite the exception that you are awake before him, so you decide to enjoy the moment. After a few minutes, you supposed that it’d be best to brew some tea before Harry woke up. So very carefully, you climbed out of his grip and silently walked into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the stove, you start looking at the different teas you have. ‘English breakfast… Chamomile… Mint…’ Pondering and mumbling, you eventually choose a black tea and put in some fresh lemon slices. As the kettle boils, you are putting some yoghurt, granola, and fresh berries into two bowls. Two arms suddenly wrap themselves around your waist. ‘Morning love.’ Harry’s deep voice greets you before he leans down to kiss you on your cheek. ‘Morning dear.’ You turn and meet his lips. ‘Want to go for a run later?’ You suggest as you put your breakfast and cups of tea onto the dinner table. He shakes his head before taking a sip of his tea. ‘I was rather hoping we could go to a museum, I was thinking of Tate Britain?’ You smile, ‘That sounds lovely.’ ‘We can go out for dinner after,’ a familiar smirk creeps onto his face, ‘I may or may not have pulled some strings and gotten a table at Nobu.’ He was definitely planning something, so you decide to agree without prying much more. It became much more apparent that he was planning something after he had picked out an outfit for you, which very much complimented what he would be wearing. While it was somewhat casual for Harry’s standards, many would believe it to still be quite formal. Black slacks, a perfectly ironed white shirt, a light-grey knitted jumper, and of course, oxfords, not brogues. As it was still somewhat frigid, especially in the evening, he decided to wear a black overcoat.

After a short walk to Tate Britain, the two of you strolled around the museum for hours, admiring the many pieces of art which were being displayed. He would make comments on the techniques which were used to paint certain well-known pieces, his knowledge ranging from historic to modern art. Offering his arm, he eventually leads you to John Everett Millais’ painting Ophelia. It is a beautifully detailed painting, displaying the character as it is described in Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. The two of you had originally found a connection through your love of literature, Shakespeare being one of the first authors which came up in your initial conversations. ‘It is quite beautiful, is it not?’ He whispers in your ear. ‘It is,’ you slowly nod, ‘must’ve been quite the undertaking to add all the details which were mentioned in the Scottish play.’ ‘That, I agree with dearest.’ He chuckles. After walking through the remaining parts of the museum, it is already quite late, so you decide to take a cab to the restaurant Harry had reserved a table at. After ordering a bottle of wine and your food, the two of you enjoy quite a relaxed conversation about his business trip and what you had been up to. The dinner itself was phenomenal, the wine complimenting it, bringing out its flavours and umami. You decided to share dessert before walking back to his place, as it was closer. As you pass through Hyde park, he suddenly halts and points at the stars, which are remarkably visible. Quietly, he describes to you which stars form the different star signs, Orion, Sirius, and more. A couple of minutes pass in silence before you feel him shift next to you. When you turn to face him, he is kneeling. ‘My love,’ he starts, ‘these past three years have been the happiest of my life.’ Pulling out a small box and opening it, he reveals a beautiful ring. ‘Will you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me?’ Words escape you. While you had expected him to surprise you in some way, this was outside of the scope you’d expected. Slowly, you nod, some tears escaping your eyes. ‘Yes, Harry. I do.’ ‘My love,’ He stands up, cups your face in both your hands and kisses you passionately, before putting the ring on your finger, ‘please don’t cry.’ As you look in his eyes, he himself seems moved, but something else in his eyes is unreadable to you. The rest of that night was a bit of a blur. Harry told you that he’d gone to your father and asked for your hand in marriage not too long before his latest business trip, who in turn, had agreed. He admitted that he’d been looking at rings for quite a while before that, however, because he is the gentleman he is, he thought it necessary for him to follow tradition. After a couple of weeks, the two of you decide to start living together full-time at Harry’s place, as it’d be easier to see one another on an almost daily basis that way.

Two months after your engagement to Harry, your parents come over for dinner, as it had been a while since you had last seen them. Your mother is over the moon about the engagement and has insisted that you and Harry should marry in Italy, where you had spent most of your summers as a child. If it were up to her, the wedding would already be taking place this very summer, but because of the perfectionist your fiance is, you have decided to plan for spring of the following year. ‘So Harry, how has your work been lately?’ Your father enquires before taking a sip of his red wine. ‘It’s been busy, but I’m happy to have my lovely fiance to support me.’ Harry says as he squeezes your thigh and smiles at you. Your father doesn’t seem too convinced, however, and lets out a snort. ‘I’m sure you have been busy,’ he slowly leans forward and whispers, ‘busy blowing up my men and warehouses, perhaps?’ After sliding a few pictures across the table, he leans back again. It was quite clear that it was Harry, the security cameras your father had installed recently in his warehouses after finding multiple men dead and the building in shambles, had captured a video of him. The second picture was Harry holding a gun and clearly shooting one of your father’s men, Antinio. You had rather liked Antonio growing up and had felt awful after his death. You turn to him after staring at the picture for what felt like an eternity.

‘What’s the meaning of this Harry?’

He swallows. ‘It is none of your concern, love.’ You stand up. ‘Yes it is,’ your voice wavering slightly, ‘Harry Hart, you are going to explain to me what you were doing shooting up my father’s people and business.’ ‘Please sit back down, dear.’ He doesn’t dare look at you. ‘Harry.’ You say sternly and he finally looks at you, the guilt in his eyes quite clear. ‘Please, I can’t, you kno-.’ He almost begs you, but it’s interrupted by the sound of a gun being loaded. You turn and look at your father pointing it at your fiance. ‘I expect you to be honest now Harry, or should I say agent Galahad?’ Harry sits deadly still, all the emotion he had shown you completely wiped off his face. Slowly, he stands up, his hands slightly up and clearly visible for your father to see. ‘You have flown too close to the sun agent; and you’re going to pay for deceiving my child.’ Your father’s voice rising to an almost screaming level. ‘Father please! Don’t hurt him!’ You scream back. ‘Can’t you see that he has used you?! The only reason he ever got together with you is to get to me! Isn’t that right?!’ You turn to Harry. ‘Tell me it isn’t true Harry.’ He doesn’t answer. ‘TELL ME!’ Tears stream down your face as he looks at you without a hit of emotion. ‘We can discuss this later, dear.’ He states before turning back to your father, whose gun was clearly shaking as a result of his anger. ‘No, you’re going to be honest, Hart, if that’s even your name.’ He motions Harry to walk around the table and stand in opposite of him, your mother shifting to stand next to your father. Your fiance didn’t seem to be phased by the situation in the slightest while your father looks like he is about to pull the trigger. Before he can, though, Harry suddenly and swiftly kicks the gun out of his hands, with it flying across the room. Pulling out his own gun, he doesn’t hesitate to shoot your father through the head. ‘DAD! NO!!’ Before you are able to move, he does the same to your mother, who had been relatively quiet throughout the argument. ‘Mo-mo-MOM?!’ You run and fall to the ground, trying to do anything to help them. Blood covers your hands and feet as tears continue to stream down your face. ‘Ha-.’ Swallowing, you try again. ‘Ha-Harry, wh-why…’ Your hands are shaking violently as you search for anything to grab onto. ‘Wa-was it- was it all fake?’ Grabbing your father’s gun you point it at him. He doesn’t look at you. ‘HARRY, LOOK AT ME!’ He turns, taking off his glasses and putting them onto the dinner table, the once white tablecloth now splattered with blood; tainted. Crouching down, he grabs your face and kisses you before pulling you into a hug, the gun you’re holding hitting his chest. ‘You may shoot now, my love.’ Is all he whispers into your ear.

~~~~~~

Part 2

#harry hart x reader #kingsman x reader #kingsman reader insert #harry hart imagine #harry hart reader insert #harry hart #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #angst #like a lot of it #established relationship #manipulation #open ending #ao3 writer #kingsman imagine #kingsman #small blog

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charlie-artlie · 10 months

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if youre taking icon requests could i please get a gay little elias (rainbow flag) tysm

gay elias be upon you!!! 🏳️‍🌈

[ ID: A drawing of Elias Bouchard from the Magnus Archives in front of the gay pride flag. Elias is a thin white man with styled black hair and a thin mustache, wearing a green pinstripe suite over a yellow collared shirt and black tie, with a big brown coat.]

#the magnus archives #tma #elias bouchard #pridecons #arts #ive updated his design just a lil :x #added a gay little mustache #for his gay little icon

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shoyoist · 2 years

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— 𝟎𝟏:𝟒𝟒 𝐀𝐌 : hanma shuji.

thinking of shuji being an ardent lover of classic lit ♡ ~

on some nights, when he arrives at meetings a little earlier than scheduled — or on nights where he has to remain at headquarters long after meetings are over, hanma likes to head up to the top floor's longue, a hard cover copy of fyodor dostoevsky's crime and punishment in one hand.

he takes a seat on the sofa placed at the corner of the room, crossing one leg over the other and glancing out at the view provided by the glass office wall. the city blinks down at him, gradually getting darker, as the hours tick by and the lights start to go out.

the warm lighting of the room is sufficient for him to read easily, and sometimes, kisaki will have already turned the record on, leaving a disk from Queen's platinum collection playing in the background.

the atmosphere is quiet, relaxing and peaceful. hanma likes it, just as much as he enjoys clamour, chaos and catastrophe.

he opens the book, the cover and pages smooth between his large hands, and flips over to where he's placed the bookmark, and starts to read.

and really, he looks so elegant — poised and handsome, in his pinstriped suit that shows of his tall, muscled frame, with his coiffed hair and his gold-framed glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose as his eyes follow each word, narrowing in interest despite the fact that he's read the book about seven times already.

on some other nights, it's pride and prejudice, by jane austen. or les miserables, by victor hugo. even wuthering heights, by emily brontë.

but on nights like these when he's been away from you, his sweet little lover, for too long — when he misses you, when he yearns for your touch or to hear your voice over the phone, but knows that you're asleep at this time; he picks up crime and punishment.

why? because the first time he'd read this book, it was after you had gifted him a copy of it for his 24th birthday.

though hanma has always been interested in classic lit, it was on the outskirts, when he was younger.

he had read a few of the most popular novels, like little women, the great gatsby, and he even owned a paperback of american psycho (despite how the shopkeeper at the bookstore had warned him not to purchase it, thinking him just a young teen looking to find something dark to read).

he wasnt really one to care about his image, but he didnt exactly let many people know that he spent evenings and nights sitting around with his eyes glued to books about love, war and all that lies in between. it was a little secret, of sorts.

until he met you.

now, he has multiple collections of hardbacks of all his favourite novels, shelved in both his office and in his home that he shares with you. he buys the publications that come in the prettiest covers, collects audio books, and owns copies of every good movie adaptation.

and the hardback of crime and punishment he's reading right now? with the time ticking towards 01:30 in the middle of the night, as he waits for kisaki to be done with whatever unfinished business he's got before he can drive them back to their hotel — he's reading the book you'd gifted him.

when you'd discovered that he liked reading, and when you'd found out that despite it he had missed out on reading fyodor's famous novel, you'd sought out to get it for him.

on the second page, the one where only the title is printed out in bold letters at the center, after the page where the disclaimers and publication information are printed — there's a lipstick kiss on the top left corner.

happy birthday, my shuji. i love you!! written under the kiss, signed off with your name, in red pen.

the sin and punishment tattoos on his hands weren't influenced by the book, not really.

but you'd made that connection, knowing that he had the tattoos and knowing that he read classic eng lit, and when you'd gifted him the book, it was enough for him to favourite the story and have every line from it memorized, reading them over and over again.

and he's already highlighted, with a pen that came in a pale shade of red, the lines — "yet in their absence, i seemed to love them so much."

it's not the right context, and hanma knows that — but each time he passes the line, when reading through part 3 of chapter 3, he thinks of you.

he loves you so much, his heart aches. especially on nights like these, when he's bored out of his mind after a long day, tired but still held up in the office till the moon peaks and sinks down the sky, as the hours go by.

nights where he would do anything to be asleep, under the covers with your bare skin flush with his, your warmth melding with his own. his arms around you, your scent in his lungs, his lips against the back of your neck.

but he cant, so he sits on the sofa at the corner of the top floor's lounge and reads, until kisaki comes looking for him.

he's absorbed into the pages, dismissing the footsteps as they approach because he knows who it is without paying attention to them — and he only looks up, when his partner in crime switches off the music and clears his throat.

"oh hey, tetta." hanma grins, looking up, amber eyes glinting softly in the light. "time to go?"

"yes." kisaki answers, eyes skirting over to read the title of the book hanma holds, before he turns around to leave. hanma stands up, switches off the lamp on the desk beside the sofa, and follows.

the faint lights of the nighttime city outside pool into the now-dark room, throwing gentle shadows onto the floor as they walk across it.

kisaki is smart, but he doesnt need to be to figure this one out. he's picked up on hanma's little habit of resorting back to that same copy of crime and punishment, when he starts to miss you too much.

it's one of the only predictable things hanma ever does.

so he says, nonchalantly, as they wait for the elevator to make it up to their floor. "hanma. i think you'll be able to take some time off, soon."

"oh, really?" hanma turns his head to look down at kisaki, as his boss looks straight ahead, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his regular briefcase. "we're nearly done with this one?"

"yeah." kisaki says. "you'll get to go home next week."

and hanma smiles. he knows you're asleep, and that you probably fell asleep with your phone close to you as you lay on your side of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through it till your weariness overtook you — he knows there's a chance you would wake up, disturbed by the notification, if he sends you a message.

but he feels warm inside, and he cant help it. he slips his phone out of his pocket, as the elevator dings and opens up, and he follows kisaki inside.

contrary to his worries, your phone is on the nightstand tonight.

you'll only see it when you wake up the next morning, but your phone lights up in the darkness of your bedroom, signalling a new message.

⠀⠀⠀— [01:44 AM] shuji : miss you, babydoll. i'll be home soon ♡

#☆༉ rekha™#☆༉ dulciloqui.#hanma fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuji fluff #hanma shuji x reader #tr x reader #tr fluff #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers drabbles #hanma drabbles #hanma headcanons

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sassykattery · 4 months

Text

No Rest for the Wicked, Pt. 1

Welcome back, everyone! I appreciate your patience in me going on this hiatus. I have begun the process of finishing the finale of this series, and it's time we take the construction cones off the road and go! The rest of Season 3 here we come!

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly.

Themes: Romance. Adventure. Engagement.

Characters: MC. Diavolo. Lucifer. Barbatos. OC: Vox.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Enjoy!

"MC, are you ready?" Lucifer called out to you.

"Coming!" You called back out from your ensuite bathroom in the castle. After one last adjustment of your blazer, you took one more look before heading off to the foyer.

It had been several months since you regained your memory.

"Ah, there you are–" Lucifer said, adjusting his cuffs, and then looking up at you to pause. You were wearing a navy-blue power suit with diamond lined pinstripes, but without an undershirt, your cleavage was on display. Your diamond stilettos clicked across the floors, and you were in your demon form. He was wearing an all-black number, from the tie, shirt, to the entire suit.

"My, oh my, MC," Lucifer purred, opening his arms open to you. You gladly accepted the embrace. "I think I discovered a new kink just now," he murmured into your hair. You chuckled in response and pulled away.

"I take it you like it then. I thought for the interview, I should wear something different," you replied sweetly.

"What's different?" Diavolo asked, rounding the corner and stopping short, not bothering to hide where his gaze landed – on your chest.

"My eyes are up here," you commanded, taking your index and middle finger to guide his eyes back up to your face.

"That is different," Diavolo said, approaching you. He was in a white suit with a burgundy undershirt and black tie. Then he smiled, looking you over in your entirety, "I think I rather like it," he stated.

"We should head to the studio, we'll be starting soon," Lucifer said, checking the time.

"We'll be live in three... two... one... go."

"Hello! And we're live at Studio 666, with an exclusive interview with our soon-to-be Demon Queen, MC, the Avatar of Vainglory!"

You walked out onto the stage, waving at everyone, smiling as you took your seat next to the show host, Vox. Vox was a male pride demon, known for his interviews with the Devildom's elite, including the brothers, royals, and other aristocrats. He was tall as far as demons went, handsome, and quite the smooth talker. His lavender hair accentuated his grey eyes, and he smiled at you broadly. His hair and eye color stood out against his tawny skin. With a jaw so sharp it could cut and a nose broad and tall, he easily passed for godhood in appearance. This interview was televised live to all three realms as your wedding dates drew closer, as did your eventual coronation date with Diavolo.

"Welcome MC! We are so happy to have you join us today," Vox said. "This is your first ever interview, is that correct?"

"Ah, well, one time I was interviewed for the RAD Newspaper, but I've actually never been on television before. I'm rather excited," you replied smoothly.

"How thrilling! So, if you don't mind, we have some questions that has everyone buzzing to know the answers to, and we'd be most appreciative if you answered a few," Vox said warmly.

"Of course, I would love to answer them! Let's start," you replied.

"Excellent. Our first question is, how did you and Lord Diavolo become an item? Was it love at first sight? How did you win his heart?" Vox asked, reading his cue card and then looking up at you.

"Oh, well, I like to think I won him over by being one of the few people to beat him at chess," you answered with a playful smirk, and the audience laughed. "I'm kidding, but no, we actually became good friends first, and we shared a love for chess, so we often play together."

"That is simply adorable!" Vox beamed.

Diavolo and Lucifer watched you from one of the backrooms that were private for exclusive guests.

"Wait, she actually beat you?" Lucifer smirked, taking a sip of Demonus.

"The one time I didn't let her win, but she did anyway, and it went to her head," Diavolo mumbled, watching the screen.

"Moving on. Our next question, it seems you have not only captured the heart of our Demon Lord, but a certain Avatar of Pride. Many of us thought Lucifer was untouchable, but you seemed to have won him over as well, can you tell us about that?"

You smiled sweetly. "Well, I'll tell you, it wasn't easy, however, we have a lot in common, so we have a deep mutual respect and understanding of one another. But I like to think what won him over was my dedication to RAD, the exchange program, and our family," you stated.

"As a pride demon myself, I can completely see why he would be so smitten with you then! Imagine having someone such as yourself at your side, of course you couldn't help but fall in love!" Vox exclaimed, laying thick on the charm.

"Tch..." Lucifer bristled at how chummy the host was being to you. It was Diavolo's turn to smirk then.

"Alright, one more question from our audience and then I have some of my own. How has your life changed since becoming involved with Lord Diavolo and Lucifer Morningstar?"

"Ah, well, it has in many ways," you started to say. "I knew that becoming involved with Diavolo would bring the public eye onto me, though I had a little bit of that being in the exchange program anyway, but I didn't realize that so many people would be interested in my life, as a human or a demon. When it came to Lucifer, I was often met with the glares of the lower demons who were rather fond of him," you said with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "Those are the more interesting aspects that I'm sure the fans want to know about. Of course, there are the less interesting things like learning to become a royal, balancing everyone's schedules, things like that."

"Very good, thank you, I think our fans will appreciate your thorough answer. Now, I have a question of my own. You brought up family earlier when speaking about Lucifer Morningstar's brothers, but I want to know, should we expect any little royals of your own in the future?"

"No no no no no no," Lucifer groaned. Diavolo set his drink down and immediately stormed out of the room and found the producer as he stood next to the cameraman at the back of the studio audience filming the interview.

"You cut that this instant or I'll have every single one of you fired," Diavolo murmured in the producer's ear, but you looked out into the audience and smiled, and by the time Lucifer caught up to the prince, you started to speak.

"That is an interesting question. I guess you'll just have to wait and find out like everyone else," you said with a lower tone, but your face never faltered.

Vox immediately caught on to your slight displeasure, and when he looked over to his producer, he saw the very angry glares of Diavolo and Lucifer.

"We'll see indeed! Thank you. Moving on..."

The rest of the interview went swimmingly, talking about the weddings and coronation, it seemed everyone was very excited and ready for the changes coming to the Devildom with your influence, and by the time it was over, several hours had gone by. The director came by and informed you it was one of their highest rated viewings and highest positivity rating. You nodded and sat back in your chair in your room at the studio, getting your hair and makeup touched up for you to go to your photoshoot with Devil Style.

"Hello darling," Diavolo said, appearing in the mirror behind you. The makeup stylist took their leave, and it was just you two.

"My love," you replied with a small smile. He rested his hands on your shoulders.

"You did very well, I'm proud of you," he stated. You looked at him through the mirror.

"I learned from the best," you replied quietly.

"I'm sorry about Vox... I was very displeased with that segment and told the producer-"

"It's fine, Diavolo. I have to learn how to navigate those sorts of things," you interrupted. Diavolo relaxed a little, smiling at your diplomacy.

"Indeed," he replied, leaning down to kiss the top of your head between your horns.

"MC, Lord Diavolo, it's time for the shoot," an assistant came by and informed you both. You nodded and thanked them.

"You alright, princess?" Diavolo asked quietly.

"I'm fine. Just not used to this level of stardom," you replied. He could tell you were telling the truth, but he couldn't help but feel like there was more.

"Alright, MC, you're going to sit in this chair here," the photographer said, leading you to an armchair in the middle of the set, in front of a green screen. It was a high-back chair with a dark burgundy velvet button-tufted back with gold-finished wood, one obviously fit for royalty. They positioned you to sit fully straight up with one leg crossed, arms laid on the arms of the chair.

"And now you two..." the photographer mumbled, positioning Diavolo and Lucifer. Diavolo stood beside you, one arm leaned onto the back of the chair, and Lucifer stood on the other side, arms folded as he leaned against the chair as well.

"Perfect," the photographer said, stepping back. They instructed you all on the different faces and attitudes they wanted. This photo was going to be the cover of next month's magazine, while the next shots were for the printed interview pages with Vox. There were some with you and Diavolo, and then some with just you and Lucifer.

In the final set, it was just you, and one of your stylists came out with a box.

"They want you to wear this for the last set," he said. You nodded and he opened it, revealing a diamond tiara, and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. You looked up at the assistant and shook your head.

"Surely, you're mistaken," you told him.

"I'm afraid not, princess. The magazine director and I want you to wear it," Diavolo said, walking up to you and your assistant with a broad smile. "It's not your official crown, it's one I had made specifically for this shoot," he informed you. A blush dusted your cheeks as you sat back and allowed your assistant to situate it on your head.

Everyone left you alone, and the photographer then came up to you. "Alright, MC, I want this last set to be all about you, so, tell, how should you pose for this one? I want it to scream your personality or anything special about you."

You thought for a moment, considering their request. After some thought, you whispered to the photographer some of the props you would need, and they instantly smiled, appreciating your vision. Lucifer and Diavolo were ushered out as they changed out the scene, and were only allowed back in when you told them to.

A black lounge chaise was set out, and you had black roses scattered around you, a black side table next to the arm of the chaise, decorated with pomegranates, gold chains, and jewels. As for you, you were stretched out in the chaise, your upper body slightly upright as you leaned against the arm of the chaise, the rest of your body laid out on its side in the rest of the chair. You unbuttoned your blazer, allowing more of your bare torso to show, and in your free hand, you held up a demon skull. Looking at the camera, you gave it a seductive smirk as your vanity shined through your eyes, your body radiating your sin with plumes of midnight blue vapors appeared behind you, still in your demon form of course.

Diavolo and Lucifer were allowed back in after a few of the photos were taken, and they both stopped short at the sight of you.

"I'm so making this into a painting," Diavolo murmured.

Lucifer smirked, but ultimately agreed with the prince's sentiment. Both of them had to go distract themselves as their arousals were getting the better of them.

"MC, you are absolutely stunning. You'll have to come model for us again," the magazine director said to you after the photographer was done.

"You're too kind, but I'd be happy to," you replied hotly.

After the shoot was over, you and your fiancés went out to Ristorante Six to celebrate your successful day. Diavolo arranged for the three of you to have a private room in the back, and you were finally able to relax after a few glasses of Demonus.

"Better?" Lucifer asked, noting your state.

"Indeed. Diavolo, I don't know how you do all that," you replied slowly.

The prince chuckled. "I grew up with it, princess. I'm used to it," he replied, smiling brightly. "But I am very proud of you. You were amazing the entire day."

"I know," you said a little arrogantly with a wink.

"The Avatar of Vainglory, in all her glory," Lucifer muttered. You turned to him.

"Jealous?" you asked.

"Not at all. You two can enjoy that to your heart's content," Lucifer replied smoothly.

"So, with the weddings in a couple months, do you think you've done everything you needed to prepare?" Diavolo asked you.

You finished a fourth glass of Demonus and started a fifth, "Yeah, I think I got everything down. I just hope it all goes okay," you said even slower. Immediately, you finished the glass and poured another. Lucifer and Diavolo shared a glance and focused back on you.

"Are you worried about something?" Lucifer probed.

"Yeah, I'm afraid something gonna go wrong," you replied, then finishing that glass and pouring your seventh. "Jus' like it 'lways does," you slurred.

"Why don't you slow down just a touch, dove," Lucifer said, sliding the bottle of Demonus away from you. You pouted and stared at the table ahead of you, the blue liquid in your drink mesmerizing you.

You buried your face in your hands, elbows on the table. "Jus' seems like ev'ry few months, somethin' comes up 'n I get into trouble," you groaned.

"Darling, you know those things aren't your fault, right?" Diavolo said, putting his hand on your shoulder. You hiccupped and nodded.

"But you can't deny it always causes a lot of trouble for ev'rybody," you said tearfully. Very suddenly, you slumped and leaned over on Lucifer's shoulder, drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Well, that went well," Lucifer deadpanned. Diavolo sighed and waved you and Lucifer off to take care of the bill. You didn't even make it to dinner, to their dismay. Lucifer put his arm underneath yours and helped you out of the booth to take you back to the castle. Diavolo caught up not too long after, picking you up and carrying you bridal style until you three reached the castle doors where Barbatos let you all in.

"Went that well, did it?" Barbatos said, deadpanning as well after looking you over. Diavolo continued to carry you to your suite while Lucifer stopped and looked at the butler.

"It seems someone can't handle their Demonus," he stated, slightly miffed.

Barbatos smirked. "She's young, it's not like she does it every weekend like you and the young master," the butler replied hotly. Lucifer bristled and rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Diavolo laid you back on your bed, taking off your heels and undressing you. Once you were nude, he grabbed a nightshirt. As he tried to wrestle it onto you, you pawed at his face lightly, giggling quietly.

"Darling, it would be easier if you cooperated," he mumbled.

"Mm, but I want you~" you purred, dragging your hands down his chest, trying to fiddle with the buttons of his suit.

"Not tonight, you need to go to sleep," he replied softly. You then blinked a few times, tears shedding and rolling down your cheeks.

"MC..."

"I just want to make you and Luci proud, Dia," you said softly with a crack in your voice. You finally let him put your nightshirt on and then he scooted in close, cupping your face.

"My sweet, sweet princess, you make me proud every day. You demonstrate a strength that I would have never guessed you had, and I never seem to stop being impressed by you," he cooed. He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Will you stay? Can Luci stay?" you pleaded very sweetly.

"Anything you want, my love. Let me go get him and I'll go change. I'll be right back." You nodded and settled into bed.

By the time the two demons returned to your suite, you were out cold, snoring loudly in the middle of the bed in a starfish position. They thought it was adorable, and they managed to situate you so everyone could fit as you were sandwiched in-between the two.

---

Thanks for reading <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @l-d-8 @itsmeninerz @flemmingbamse @loquacious-libra @delphi-dreamin @biteable-pink-pixie @themythicaldisaster @bontensbabygirl @dajitm @marvelous-maniac

(If I tagged you and you no longer wish to be tagged, please let me know in a comment)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #sassywrites #sassystories #obey me fanfic #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #love-eternal #lucifer x female reader #diavolo x female reader #obey me barbatos #obey me mc

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latenightsimping · 1 year

Text

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

AN: This was an idea that I’ve had for a little while, and finally getting around to writing it. There will be multiple chapters, and we’ll get to meet the reader in chapter 2. I’m pulling on many references, some of it being my own experiences of being in an inpatient facility a couple of times in my teenage years. Write what you know, and get some catharsis through angst relating to it, innit. I will say though, look after yourselves, and seek help if you need it. Inpatient sucked, but it’s what I needed to keep myself healthy and alive. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, I promise. And if you think it needs extra tags, please lemme know. I can see replies but cannot answer due to this being a sideblog, so keep that in mind. Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

Taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added): @edsforehead

Eleven vertical steel bars, five horizontal. eighty-seven bricks on the wall just past them. Sixty-four pinstripes on the pillowcase. One hundred and twenty one days since the last breath of fresh air.

There’s only so much counting to be done, before you go as insane as they report you to be.

Eddie had prided himself in independence, before everything went to shit. He could get up when he wanted, go to bed at a time of his choosing. Choose what clothes to wear, when he wanted to shower, what food he ate. But that had all been stripped away. A uniform of white was given to him on arrival. White undershirt, white button down and pants, white vans, white socks. A colour that he typically hated, now forced upon him with no room for argument. The food was shit, the attitude of the staff even worse. Bed so uncomfortable that what little sleep he could manage with the screams and yelps of the damned ringing in his ears, he would always wake up with a soreness that could never be taken away.

He thought he’d witnessed hell. Skies of red and thunder, twisted vines and flapping of wings and razor sharp teeth. But this?

This was worse.

He had woken up bathed in bright light, and for a second he wondered if this was Heaven. Only took a couple of seconds to realise that it was likely that the promised paradise wouldn’t smell of disinfectant and have incessant beepings of heart monitors. A couple of times in his life, he had been in handcuffs. Drug related charges that Hopper had conveniently lost the paperwork for, letting him go with a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. But this time? This time, the steel that connected him to the bedframe of the hospital bed felt permanent. He was lucky to be alive, according to the doctors, who told him with disgust evident in their features. It should have been you who died, was clear to translate from furrowed brows and the thin press of their lips. Eddie couldn’t help but agree with them sometimes. Nurses would often ‘forget’ to give him the pain medication prescribed, leaving him in a near constant state of agony.

The demobats had really done a number on him; lacerations and chunks of flesh torn from the left hand side of his body, trailing up his neck and ending on his jawline and cheek. More on the right pectoral muscles, the backs of his hands, forearms and upper bicep. If he wasn’t facing the barrel of the death penalty, he would have cracked a joke about losing his nipple. Each and every wound was a constant ache, his jaw near permanently set to grinding his teeth to bear with it. Only when Wayne was finally allowed to visit, hollering his lungs out about how much pain his boy was in, was he finally given those syringes of relief that he so desperately craved for. Not for long, only until they decided to neglect him again. But those moments were the reprieve that were sorely needed.

It had been Hopper’s idea to turn himself in and feign insanity, when he had visited his bedside. Something about a plan, and that he would just need to hang tight for someone high in the food chain to be contacted to fix the mess. He was promised that the chief of police would make sure he wouldn’t go to jail. Just to have trust, have faith, and repeat the words told to him to plead insanity. He couldn’t remember anything past the point of letting Chrissy into the trailer. He couldn’t remember killing Fred Benson or Patrick McKinney. Couldn’t remember attacking Max Mayfield, putting her in the hospital. Couldn’t remember how he got hurt. Deny, deny, deny. It had been easy to convince the cops that he’d lost his mind; easy enough that it was borderline insulting. The last of Vecna’s victims had wounded him to find out about, and had nearly caused him to lose face. He didn’t know Red well, but he’d seen her around the trailer park, looking as lost and broken as he did at that age. Got to know her better over the time they spent together, and had admired the strength and tenacity that was in her, too much of those qualities for a fifteen year-old to carry. He just prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that she’d pull through.

Many years ago, he had made a promise to himself not to ever turn out like his father. That waste of space that chose drugs over his own flesh and blood. But getting processed in what remained of Hawkins police station, ink still damp on his fingertips as he clutched the name board while his picture was taken, that’s exactly how it felt. The hospital booted him as soon as he was medically stable, no doubt not wanting to harbour a serial killer in the halls that were meant for healing. At least he could be thankful that the station was only a detour, a short stop to what would be his home for God knows how long.

Pennhurst Mental Hospital.

In four months, life had blurred into a monotony that was barely endurable, with no end in sight. He was afforded no luxuries; the cell he was kept in made up of nothing more than necessities. Bed, sink and toilet, desk and a chair. No windows, and the only view past his bars being a dirty grey brick wall.He’d counted the cracks in it the first week in. Counted the ones on the ceilings in the second week. The rest of the time had been spent packing back and forth, like that tiger he’d once seen at some shit zoo. The lack of fresh air had suffocated him long ago. He could swear that he hadn’t taken a deep breath since Chrissy’s body flung itself to the ceiling.

It was the boredom that was the thing that was slowly poisoning him the fastest. The unending, unyielding, mind numbing boredom. Where all he had was his thoughts, and no possible escape from them. Thoughts of the past and the future threatening to pull him under, to drown him in regrets and missed opportunities. He was going to finally graduate from high school. Corroded coffin could have gone somewhere. He was going to start a new campaign for Hellfire. He was planning to finally move out of the trailer, and into a place of his own. Back and forth, the rumination so intense it made his head spin. Made him pace even harder, until he was near the point of over exertion. The only outlet for a man that barely ever stood still in his life.

A nurse that must have had a shred of humanity left passed a book through his bars the first couple of weeks in, evidently having enough sense to realise there was no possible way for him to do damage to himself or others with it, and most likely sick of the sound of rubber soles against cement. The Count of Monte Christo was a book that he vaguely remembered from school, no doubt an essay that he didn’t hand in considering he’d never read it in his life. But by this point? He could have recited it in his fucking sleep.

It was during another countless repeat of reading it that his attention was caught by the calling of his last name, a loud bang of a fist hitting metal that snapped him out of whatever dissociation he found himself lost in. Snapping his head towards the sound, he was met with the unkind face of one of the orderlies, one that seemed to have it in for him since getting here. Eddie had heard him be called Bradford before. He must have caught the confusion on Eddie’s face, considering he followed it up with an eye roll.

“Get your ass over here,” was the gruff response he got, the jingling of keys audible as the one to his cell drove home into the cylinder. “Must be your lucky day.”

Though there were multiple questions ruminating in Eddie’s mind, he knew better to push his luck. Gift horse in the mouth, and all that. The steps he took towards the door were methodical; slow and steady, as if it was all one sick prank, getting him into trouble and thrown into the solitary confinement cells that he’d been borderline threatened with multiple times.

A firm hand planted to his chest stopped him in his tracks, the contact to the still healing scars making him wince and take a sharp breath. It was instinct to lower his eye contact upward, though it quickly dropped to the floor as the man loomed over him. “Any trouble, so much as one foot out of step, and I’ll make it my fucking mission to put you back in here. Do I make myself clear?” the man warned under his breath. The smell of stale coffee and cigarettes hitting him square in the face, making his stomach churn.

Swallow down the disgust and agony, as much as it hurts, the reasonable voice inside him whispered. Don’t do anything stupid. In another life, he would have given this figure of authority hell. A sarcastic quip heavy on his tongue, a middle finger to those who wanted him under their boot.

But this wasn’t that life. And he needed to play it smart.

“Crystal, sir,” he mumbled, fight well and truly snuffed out from the system that wanted him locked up and the key thrown away.

It seemed to have appeased the orderly, for now. The man took sure steps towards the exit, Eddie following his heels at a close yet respectable distance. Head lowered, frizzy curls now wild and unruly falling like a curtain in front of his face. It was near laughable to him that the ability to walk in a straight line further than ten feet was now a luxury. Could finally properly stretch his legs, though the destination was still a mystery.

The shift from dim lighting to sunshine with the ascension of a set of stairs that he’d only travelled down once made his eyes screw near closed on instinct, turning his head away from the windows that let it in. Once upon a time, he enjoyed sunny days. Like the feeling of sun on his skin, and the wind in his hair. Nowadays he didn’t even know what season it was.

Being led through winding corridors, for the first time he saw other patients, all eyeing him with paranoid looks. He couldn’t blame them. But he could feel the tendrils of fear beginning to grip at his gut. Would he end up like these people eventually? How long would it take? A couple of months? Years? A subtle shake of his head as he tried to dislodge the thoughts. He couldn’t think like that. Hopper promised he’d be out of here soon. He just had to have hope.

The orderly came to a stop in front of a door, deep green and paint chipping off with age. The nameplate on the front gave him pause, when he finally spared a glance at it. DR. EDITH MILLER, etched onto the brass. He’d had meetings with Dr. Miller since he got here. Once a week, the nosey bitch would try and get information that didn’t even seem relevant. He’d managed to evade some of the questions, embellished the truth on others. But if he was being summoned to her office? This couldn’t be good.

The orderly’s knuckles rapped on the door three times, a call of “enter,” being audible seconds later. Eddie was ushered inside, the homely looking woman with already greying hair barely looking up at him from her paperwork as she motioned with the pen in her hand towards the chair nearest to them. At least in his cell, he was somewhere that he knew back to front. This was completely different, completely new, and his nerves were already on edge as he shuffled inside.

“Need me to stay?” Bradford asked, hand still grasping the door handle as his eyes flickered around the room. No doubt his mind was already thinking of possibilities of what could happen with a suspected murderer left alone in a room with a defenceless woman. The thought of people thinking that he was capable of atrocities weren’t new, but it still made Eddie sick to the core.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, hazel eyes finally shifting upwards to look at the two men. Her monotone voice gave nothing away, face devoid of any emotion either. Bradford faltered for only a second, before Eddie finally heard the door close behind him. Only then was he given the barest hint of a polite smile as she motioned her hand towards the chair again, to which he obliged out of the need to be polite. “How are you feeling this week, Eddie?” she asked, head slightly tilted.

She was the only one to call him the name he preferred. Everyone else just called him Munson. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it was a ploy to get him to trust her. Make him comfortable with small signs of respect, though it was likely she didn’t in the slightest. His hands settled on his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to the worn tiles of the linoleum and absentmindedly counting the cracks. “Fine,” he replied, the word devoid of any emotion or energy.

The truth would be sharing too much; the fear of being honest bringing the risk of even more restrictions under the guise of safety. There wasn’t a delicate way of saying “I want to close my eyes and never wake up some days.”

He heard scrawls of the pen, no doubt more notes that would dig him a grave of pills and cell bars. A pregnant pause before she spoke again, and an intake of breath. “And how are you feeling with the medication changes? Is your mood still low?”

He had to bite his tongue, to stop his lips turning up into an incredulous smile. The truth again being evaded in the answer. “Fine,” he repeated, this time with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “The pills make me feel sick every hour of the day, make me into more of a ghost than I already am.”

Another scratch of ink on paper. “Your case was brought forward to the panel this morning. We’ve decided that we should ease your restrictions, given that there’s been no record of violent tendencies to yourself or others since the time you’ve been with us.”

That made his ears perk up, the sparks of hope threatening to ignite in his chest. Head snapping up to finally make eye contact with the good doctor, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?”

Her eyes studied his face for a few heartbeats, a small smile gracing her features, one that seemed to be an attempt at easing anxieties. “It means we’ve decided to move you to a medium security wing. It comes with certain privileges, but also with expectations, Eddie.”

The words coming out of her mouth seemed to blur together, becoming a background noise to his rapidly beating heart. He was finally getting out of the damnation he had been trapped in, perhaps finally allowed into the light. To be able to breathe lungfuls of outside air from a crack in a window, to not have to sleep just to evade the hollow boredom. It was relief; as if the hand of an angel had reached into the pits of hell, to bring him to salvation. And if that hand was one of the likes of Miller, he’d clasp it with both hands and not let go until the end was in sight.

“-we’ll still need to see improvement to give you certain privileges, but we can play it by ear. How does that sound?” Her voice finally tuned back in, a little hazy at the edges, tears of joy and relief threatening to fall from his eyes.

“When can I go? When do I move?” he blurted, the only question that mattered. Fuck, if she’d asked him to crawl through broken glass right now, he’d do it with a fucking smile on his face.

Her eyes flickered downwards as her wrist came up, a brief glance to her wristwatch as she pulled herself to a stand. “You’re just in time for recreation, and there’s no time like the present.” She rounded the desk, taking sure steps to the door and looking back. “Shall we?”

It was instinct to move as fast as his legs could take him, quickly snuffed out with the realisation of where he was. Slow, sure movements, make yourself as least threatening as possible. Keep hands visible at all times, open and by his sides. Three steps away from the doctor, passing many twists and turns of the corridor and being led through multiple sets of steel doors, until one was finally opened for him that he was expected to step through alone.

It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he finally looked up to take in his surroundings. Chipped and scuffed beige linoleum tiles, walls in just as sorry a state. Large windows that bathed the room in natural sunlight, though the bars on the windows were a reminder of where he truly was. A couple of tables and chairs dotted around the room, most occupied with other patients. Who seemed to be in various stages of lucidity. A couple of benches, some more chairs crowded around an ancient TV.

In any other situation, he would call this place what it was; an abject shithole. Somewhere he wouldn’t be if you paid him. But recent events had changed his mindset, had lowered his expectations until the bar was practically on the floor. This was a damn palace, compared to his last recent address. It had the lack of staleness in the air, albeit now replaced with bleach and something he couldn’t place. It had space, and light.

It had hope.

But with the luxury of choice, came the immobilising aspect to it. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Where was he going to sit, or do? Strike up conversation and hope that the person didn’t know about what had put him here in the first place?

He was still making his choice when he heard a voice. A woman, tone bored yet slight amusement playing on the words.

“Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy.”

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