#Helluva fictive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaylopolis · 11 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Seventeen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Helluva Boss events of this chapter take place during S2E6 “Oops.”

Last transition chapter before the finale!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Seventeen - The Countdown

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of abuse.

3 Days till Extermination

“Coconut mocha for Sir Pentious, soy latte for Angel, espresso for Husk, decaf for Niffty, 2% cappuccino for Vaggie, iced coffee for Charlie, and black chai for Alastor,” you spun the tray, ensuring you had everyone’s order.

Well, technically, not “order.” The crew didn’t know you were going to this extent. You woke in Alastor’s bed, the sheets long since gone cold from where Alastor’s sleeping form had once been. The Hotel crew had been hard at work early in the morning - even Husk had skipped his eye-opener glass of whiskey. So, before you had joined the crew in the foyer, you snuck past them and headed for the kitchen. The group was still uneasy around Alastor - everyone except for Husk. The cat demon never gave a fuck about anything regarding the Radio Demon.

Taking a deep breath, you and the tray made your way to the huddled group in the foyer. “I um… I made coffee?”

“Thank fuck!” Angel exclaimed. The demon rolled his shoulders and stretched the stiffness from his arms. “Momma needs a drink.”

You passed off the drinks to their respective partners, finally coming to Charlie.

“Hey,” you breathed, afraid of saying anything more. This was the first time you were encountering the Princess since the big reveal and although Charlie was always the upbeat, do-gooder of the group, you were still nervous.

“Hey, um, Aunt… Thestral… Mika-… Mickey… Aunt Mike…”

God, this was painful to watch.

“Just call me Mikaela,” you smiled awkwardly, handing her the iced coffee.

“Okay, Aunt Mikaela,” the Princess smiled softly.

“Oh…” You blinked. “No, Charlie, it’s okay. You don’t have to…” You huffed, noticing the eyes around you quickly darting away. “I have not earned that title.” Your shoulders slumped as you spoke.

You never really expected to have this conversation. You had just assumed the worst, but this was Charlie for crying out loud. She was technically family. She was a bleeding heart, so of course she’d want some sort of relationship with you. Yet, you hadn’t really thought down this avenue, thinking you’d forever stay friends and never acknowledge the elephant in the room. Especially considering Lucifer hated you and wanted nothing to do with you…

Charlie placed a hand on your arm and smiled. “I look forward to that day.”

The Princess didn’t smile because she agreed with you, she smiled because she recognized the struggle within you. She recognized that you were not ready for that, for whatever reason (~hellah guilt~), and that you needed time to come to terms with the situation.

So she’d give it to you.

“Can we get back to plannin’? I’m too hungover for this shit.” Husk grumbled.

You rejoined the group before the table, squishing yourself between the cat demon and Alastor.

“Ma cherie,” Alastor greeted you with his usual kiss of your hand that made the butterflies in your belly crazy.

“I don’t approve of this…” Vaggie grumbled as she crossed her arms.

“Yeah, yeah!” Angel shoved his way between you and Husk. “We know, Small Tits!”

The Radio Demon leaned in, finding any excuse to touch you. His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the dark fabric of his suit accenting his sharp lines. What you would give to rip that suit off of him right here…

“Stop calling me that!” Vaggie stomped her foot, but Angel continued on.

“Watya tink?” The spider demon motioned to the diorama before him.

The Hotel was drawn in pencil on a sheet of paper, small objects signifying each of the Hotel Natives. You assumed the glass of scotch was Husk, Angel was the cellphone charm, the grey feather was Vaggie, the needle was Nifty, one of the Eggs (Frank?) represented Sir Pentious, the stress ball was Charlie, and… Alastor was a cut-out music note (probably hand-drawn by Angel). Which meant you were the espresso cup.

“What is this?” You scrunched your nose.

“A battle plan!” Angel exclaimed. “Can’t go to war without a strategy. Am I right?”

You did a doubletake. “This…” You swallowed.

Angel’s smile dropped. “What? What’s wrong?” The demon analyzed the playing board.

“Well…” You handed your coffee off to Alastor. “Can I?” You waited for Angel to permit you before - quite literally - rearranging every single icon on the map. Before you were done, it was a completely different strategy.

“Wow,” Charlie smiled. “Uhm, really - really - good job! But… Can you maybe… maybe explain to those who don’t know what’s going on, what’s going on…”

Oh, Charlie, dancing around the honest truth: what the fuck were you thinking with this?

“Well…” You pointed to the scotch and phone charm. “Husk and Angel have natural chemistry.”

“Excuse me?” Husk scoffed.

“Oooooh,” Angel purred. “You hear that, Whiskers? Chemistry.” Angel leaned into Husk, the older demon rolling his eyes but not pulling away as his cheeks heated.

“They work well together, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “Angel is a medium-distance fighter, while Husk is more close combat. If the portal to Heaven opens here,” you point to the front of the Hotel. “Which I suspect Adam will do, Angel and Husk can cover the right wing. At the same time, Charlie and Vaggie can cover the left. Same concept with their dynamic. Vaggie has battle experience, and Charlie… Well…” You winced. “She’ll be well taken care of.”

“I love it,” Angel purred, leaning into Husk even more. The cat demon sidestepped, allowing the spider to fall right onto the carpet.

“What about me?” Nifty appeared beneath your legs, her head barely appearing over the table's surface.

“You are a Jungler.”

“Oh!” She laughed maniacally, “A Jungler! Uh, what’s that?”

“A Jungler,” you moved the needle to demonstrate. “Is sort of like a freelancer. You have the power to move between the two groups and work as you please.”

“Why would I do that?” The small demon tilted her head before reaching for the needle. Vaggie swatted her away.

“Because, you can take out any rogue Angel that slips past or attempts to ambush the four of them,” you explained.

“Oh, I like that!” She laughed.

“And me?” Sir Pentious stepped in.

“With your knowledge of war and supply of long-range weaponry, you’ll be right outside the Hotel, with Angel, Husk. Charlie, and Vaggie being the line between you and the Angels. You and your Egg boys…”

“Hey, that’s me!” Frank pointed out.

“... will be in charge of long-range attacks against the invading forces. You’ll be aiming for the portal opening: where they concentrate most.”

“Yesssssss, sssssssir!” The snake demon saluted. “It would be our honor!”

You huffed, “That just leaves Al and I.” You moved the music note to the front line. “Alastor is our tank. He does the best against multiple enemies at once and can take the most hits. He’s best suited for the front lines, while I…” You moved the cup to the top of the Hazbin Hotel. “... deal with Adam.”

The entire room went silent.

“I’m our secret weapon. I’d be best used against their Commander and Second in Command - Lute. I know Adam’s fighting style, which means I know his weaknesses. He won’t be much of a problem for me.” You could technically take out the entire Exorcist force single-handedly if you wanted to, but unleashing the hidden Power within you would be a stupid move. It needed to remain a secret…

The room says nothing for so long you almost question whether they have frozen in time.

A zip of static runs its way down your spine. You turn to face the Radio Demon, his pupils pinpoint and hard as steel, despite his cool demeanor, meets your gaze.

You blink, “What?”

Angel leans in and whispers not-so-quietly, “That was Smile’s plan you just messed with, Hair clip.”

Oh, shit.

No. Wait.

You crossed your arms, “You want Adam for yourself.”

Alastor laughed, his chuckles shallow and filled with static, “When you say it that way, darling, it sounds selfish. No, no! I simply wish to play my part. What would dear Adam think when Mikaela Morningstar suddenly appeared after a hundred years of silence, hmm?”

It was always so interesting how Alastor could flip his personality on a dime. He was so different with you when the two of you were alone. The Radio Demon was always just a mask, but one he wore well. It was going to take some used to - this change of pace in front of others - but part of you saw it as playful. So, you played.

Grinning, you leaned in. Alastor’s grip tightened on his cane, noting the sudden change in proximity while in public. It made him uncomfortable, but you were doing that on purpose. “Who said I’d be going as Mikaela Morningstar?”

“Oh, my!” The Radio Demon pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes feigning a spark of interest. “Had you found your cloak? I thought that shabbish thing went missing for good!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the slight, “No, unfortunately, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make another one.”

“In such a short time!” Alastor leaned in, goating you despite the crowd. “My, my, what a feat that would be to pull off.”

Oh, to dance with the devil… You had one argument in your back pocket you could use that would shut Al up for good, but you would never do that. You would never tell Alastor that he sat a few rungs lower on the hierarchy of power than Adam did… It would destroy him.

So, instead, you said, “Al, I can handle him…”

“As can I.” Alastor leaned in more, his towering figure bent at an odd angle in order for you to meet him at eye level. “Laisse-moi faire mon travail, mon cœur. Let me do my job, mon couer.”

You blinked before switching to French. “De quoi s'agit-il vraiment? What is this really about, Al?”

The demon smiled, this grin lop-sided and genuine - his Radio Demon persona dropping for but a moment. “Toi, mon cœur, ça a toujours été à propos de toi. You, mon couer, it's always been about you.”

“I think…” Charlie steps in, “... what Alastor is trying to say is, it’s safer for you if you remain hidden from Heaven.”

Wait, can Charlie switch languages like an Angel could? Well, Vaggie could - she was an Angel - but Charlie was “other.” You didn’t know if she was closer to a demon or an Angel or - God-forbid - a Human Sinner at this point. She was the first of her kind - both belonging to and also not.

“I won’t hide from a fight.” You turn your energy towards her.

“You won’t be hiding, you’ll just be…” Charlie’s words ran out.

But, of course, Al popped in, “You’ll be assisting our dear Princess.” The demon placed a hand on her shoulder in support. “Keeping her safe from any harm during the onslaught from…” Al made direct eye contact with you before continuing, “your plan.”

Fuck. The entire ordeal with Lilith slammed into your mind. You made a promise that your plan would keep Charlie out of harms way and here you were, placing her on a battlefield. Fuck, Alastor was right, you were going to have to watch after her during the chaos. The fight left you then, the realization of the situation weighing down your limbs with lead.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Rolf switched the music note for the coffee cup, the ceramic finding its new home next to the stress ball and grey feather.

Leaving Alastor to face Adam alone…

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2 Days till Extermination

Alastor had introduced you to the most important person in his entire life, but she couldn’t be there.

As you stared at the marbled headstone, worn with age, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in your gut. Had you not done the things you did, had you returned Eve to Heaven like you were supposed to, you might still be able to pass St. Peter and enter the pearly white gates. You might still be able to return Alastor to his mother instead of standing here at her grave, speaking to the tree she was buried under.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” you give a small curtsy before Alastor grabbed your hips and pulled you into him. Resting your head on his chest, you stand in silence for a while, letting the wind whip your hair and skirt in the small breeze. It was warm in Louisiana - the Extermination was right around the corner. You should have worn something lighter, but you wanted to wear something nice, something important for this moment.

Rosie had redone your wardrobe, this time unabashedly dressing you in Alastor’s colors. At your request, she redid the red and black dress you loved so much, the one with a back of black lace. Except this one was so much more. Full red with a layer of laces over a skin—colored slip. You appeared to be floating under a layer of lace before it bunched out at the hips. You wore that and a matching red ribbon in your golden hair. God, even on this side, you looked so much like Lucifer it’s a shock no one put it together the moment he stepped foot in the foyer.

“Alastor,” you breathed into his black lapel jacket. Someone, somewhere, was playing a trumpet, its brass echoing through the green meadow trapped within the heart of the city. “I need to say something.”

“Hmm,” the demon hummed.

You pulled back a little, yet still in his arms. You needed room for this part, to catch your breath. “Lilith has to die.”

It had been swimming through your mind for days at this point - since you woke in Alastor’s bed and found him smiling in his sleep.

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyebrows shot up, his smile slightly strained. You knew how he hated talking of Hell’s Queen and you knew why. “And why would that be?”

Taking a breath, you let your power slip out, just like it had that first day at the Hotel. You prodded into Alastor and, this time, he didn’t even put up a fight. You dug deep, swimming through the lake of power he had built up over the years as Overlord, until you found the center - empty.

Alastor’s Soul was missing.

“I knew something felt wrong, but I didn’t figure it out until recently. ‘To power and chaos,’ that was the last thing Lilith said to me before she took her trip top-side.”

Although you had but a moment to taste the well of power Alastor carried within him, it felt off. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it until yesterday when you were talking with Angel.

The spider demon brought you into his room and poked and prodded you about your relationship with the Radio Demon. Mostly he wanted information on the things only lover’s shared in bed, because, of course he did. Yet, the spider demon had asked you a very important question, one you never would have considered had he not brought it up.

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“So, uh…” Angel rolled onto his side atop the bed, Fat Nuggets snoozing in his arms. “I have ta’ ask this but uh, if yous was a Human Sinner, ya’ think Smiles would be all over ya’ Soul?”

You paused mid-chew of a sweet lemon square Angel had stashed in his room. After he sampled the ones you shared with him all those moons ago, the spider demon went searching for his own. Not for himself, but for the loveable blob of pink he shared the space with.

You blinked, mouth full of tartness.

Would Alastor, the Radio Demon, the man Hell-bent on the consumption of power, the architect of some of the most infamous deals in Hell, want your Soul? I mean, you imagined he would. Why wouldn’t he? The demon tried to kill you for power not that long ago, even going so far as to sink an Angelic blade into your flesh. Yet, he was a man consumed then, a veil of desire overshadowing his senses, but he broke through. Yes, you nearly destroyed half of a border town district in doing so but in the end, Alastor came back to you.

So, given the chance, would he persuade you - violently - into signing a contract to give over your Soul?

“Yes,” you swallowed.

Angel narrowed his eyes at you, “Ya’ seriously tink that, Hair clip?”

The lemon squares suddenly became too distracting. “I do. Do you know why?” You pushed the sugary delights away, clearing space for yourself physically and mentally to think this out. “Alastor nearly killed me, but he didn’t. In the end… In the end, he chose me. Had he been after my Soul, well, I’d still end up on that radio tower balcony with a knife to my throat. And it would have gone the exact same way it did the first time.”

Angel’s jaw dropped, “Wow, ya got a lot more faith in him than the rest of us evah would.”

Oh yes, Alastor would want your Soul… but what of his? Your stomach twisted.

You snort, willing the thought away, “Yeah, that’s why I’m the one getting dick and you’re not.”

The pig demon jumped as Angel exploded in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit! Okay! Okay…” He wheezed. “Okay, one last question. One last question!” The demon regained his breath. “I need ya’ to answer me seriously, gurl. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

You shoot him a dumb look. “Seriously?”

“As serious as the day I died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything that is said in here never leaves this room, understood?” Angel had managed to weasel a few - A FEW - details regarding your sex life. Alastor was a very private person; you knew he would hate if serious ~details~ ever got out. So, you stuck to mostly the softer topics regarding your relationship - despite Angel’s protests.

“Ya! Ya!” Angel rolled onto his back, his head dangling over the side of the bed. “You’ve reminded me like fifty fuckin’ times. Just tell me!”

You grumbled, but trusted the spider demon anyway, “Yes.”

“I knew it! RED LIPSTICK DICK!” the demon shouted.

“Angel!”

____________________________________________

Alastor spun you before you could read more of his face, wrapping his arms around you from behind, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. He wasn’t hiding from you; he just couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Not with pity - never pity - but intent, and he didn’t want that to fuel the guilt growing inside him.

The demon places a kiss on your bare skin, “Mother would have adored you.”

You breathed, a small smile forming on your face, “And I, her.”

You felt the demon smile against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfortable in the silence, enjoying the beautiful day. Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. The change of the weather was warming you to the point of discomfort, the humidity sticking to your skin. You curtsied to the grave and placed a kiss on Alastor’s cheek, thanking him for this moment and silently hoping for many more to come.

“Are you ready?” You snap your fingers, and the Hotel foyer beamed back at you through the crack in reality.

“I will be,” Alastor had his back to you, his hands finding his pants pockets. “I need a moment, my doe.”

My doe? That was new.

You note the stiffness in his shoulders, the sudden downturn of his smile - a thing he only ever let you see. Resisting the urge to rub the tension from his arms, you step through, giving Alastor Hartfelt a moment alone with his mother.

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The Day Before The Extermination

“Alright, bring it in!” Angel pulled the last bit of the clutter from the doorway, the chairs and tables used to barricade the doors from the torrential media outside. The media plagued you tirelessly as Velvette continued to spread her gossip to any news media outlet that would listen - which was all of them.

The media sharks had circled the Hotel guests for the past three days. Stalking them in the streets and on social media. The only time they didn’t go running after a Hotel Native was when Alastor left the Hotel with Charlie to visit Rosie in Cannibal Town. Angel was the one to suggest a barricade and he was right in doing so. The rest of you have managed to sneak out the back and circle in through the Doomsday District. It was a bitch of a walk but what else was one to do?

You were just thankful the crew didn’t resent you for it. That being said, there wasn’t really any time for that - particularly today. There was far too much to be done to prepare this place and the surrounding grounds for the onslaught you were about to face. You had the disadvantage of being sitting ducks, but the advantage of surprise.

That’s where Carmilla came in. Vaggie had somehow swung the Overlord into promising resources for your battle. This is what led you and Angel to spend nearly an hour removing the wonderful barricade to allow boxes upon boxes of sparkling weapons to be delivered to the Hotel.

Boxes and boxes of weapons which could kill you…

“You can drop those by the bar,” you informed the first demon in the line of demons carrying boxes. The demon, a praying mantis by the looks of him, eyed you weirdly but continued on with his work.

Not surprising. Velvette was saying some pretty nasty shit about you. The newest and most supported rumor was that you were sent from Heaven to spy on the inner workings of Hell in order to kill more demons off in the next Extermination. Which made sense, why would the Extermination date move up? The beheading of the Exorcist was only known to a select few - the majority of which were in the Hotel with you. The rest of the City had to put the pieces together without that information, and an Angel showing up and attempting to take down not one but four different Overlords looked - to them - to be an attack on Hell’s power system. An attempt to strip the underworld down and weaken it before the next attack.

It didn’t matter that you had actually come to Hell to empower it, to raise it up into a formidable force, to build an army to fight. You were just thankful they had moved on from topics like your sex life.

Can’t a woman enjoy power without accusations of “whoring herself out?”

Alastor also mentioned that they even interviewed Susan, but nothing was published, as everything she said was too nice and supportive. The media wanted scandal, not sweet stories about tea time with Granny.

“Sign here,” a familiar yet quiet voice rings out.

Odette.

Your heart skipped a beat as you twisted in place, your gaze finding the light-skinned demon. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look away, but instead makes her way towards you.

Was something wrong? Odette never spoke to you directly, let alone confronted you alone, ever since the incident on Extermination Day. She was a soft spoken woman before, now she had gone completely silent.

“Mikaela,” she nods, ever the young girl she always was.

“Odette, is everything okay?” You crinkled your nose in concern, your palms sweaty with anxiety. You resisted the urge to rub the back of your neck as images of blood filled your vision.

“Yes,” She huffs, looking down. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but words have evaded me.”

Ah, there was her academic mind. Always such a well-spoken demon with what little words she did possess.

“I believe you have miscalculated, in regards to my mother…”

Oh? You blinked.

“What happened that day…” Her gaze falls to her clipboard as she clutches it against her chest. “… was a miracle and I will be forever grateful. However, the circumstances regarding said miracle have brought tension between you and my mother and I can no longer sit idly by and watch as she withers away.”

The demon thrusts her clipboard before you to reveal a contract.

“My mother promised you Souls in exchange for your services with the Vees. That has since ended and you are thus due payment. However…”

Odette flips the top page over to reveal a black obsidian calling card. Carmilla’s true name shines on its surface in bright white. “I will no longer sit by and watch my mother wrack herself sick with guilt. So I ask you this, sign the contract, take the card, and erase my mother’s memories of that fateful day.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“My mother blames herself for what happened to me. She has barely allowed me out of the penthouse, let alone the building. Today was the first day in weeks, but my endeavor from home was necessary, pending the deliveries. My hope is that, by taking back this card and erasing her memories, she will forget my near death and move on with her life.”

Oh…

It would work. Carmilla didn’t have to be the one to relieve the card, it simply had to be taken from her in any manner that could arise. Carmilla wouldn’t only forget your identity but every moment you shared together. It was a failsafe you and Rosie input into the cards the day you made them - a dramatic but necessary move to make.

So the question was, was Carmilla a friend? Yes, she tortured you when you first arrived - hung you from the ceiling and tortured you for information, but the two of you had moved on from that. You were now business partners, partners in crime, and also… familiar with each other.

The day Odette almost died you were just as hopeless as Carmilla and Clara. You would have slit your own wrist had you thought it would have worked. Odette was right, her healing from a traumatic wound such as that was a miracle.

The deaths of the 14 demons who saw however… That was what haunted you. Yes, you’ve killed before but always with purpose. Killing humans on Earth meant nothing knowing they had an afterlife to look forward to. Killing Human Sinners in Hell, however, it meant ending their entire existence. That was different and the days you could hold back the ever bloodthirsty Book of Knowledge you stuck by that rule. The times you couldn’t… Well… Killing was too easy.

“No,” you breathed. “I’ll take the Souls but not the card.” You dipped to meet her gaze. “I’ve recently learned how important my friendships are to me in this world, and I don’t plan on giving them up that easily. I’m sorry for the things your mother has been going through but what happened was not her fault.” You placed a hand on Odette’s shoulder. “I would have done the same had someone I…” Your eyes flit to the bar, to where Alastor sat sipping a glass of rye, he and Husk were well entranced within a conversation. “Someone important to me was hurt. After all this is over, Odette, I will pay the three of you a visit and set this right. In any way that I can. If your mother wishes to give up the card herself after that, then I will accept, but it must come from her. I owe her that much…”

Odette gives a slight nod, the downturn of her mouth illuminating her disappointment.

“And, Odette, if I thought at the time there was something I could have done, I would have. Do not feel guilty for surviving. Whatever form that may take.”

Odette was looking but you could tell she wasn’t really listening. After you told her no her gaze glazed over as if her mind was elsewhere. It was fine. Trauma is rarely resolved after one conversation.

You brought the demon into a hug, shocking her as much as you did yourself. You weren’t good at this emotion thing and comforting others, but you were getting much better at it.

“You’re a survivor, Odette, just like me…”

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Elsewhere in Hell…

The Mafia boss sat with his back to the desk, a roaring fire of green illuminating the darkened office. “So, you say you're good? 'Cuz we really need a big score right now…”

Swiveling in his high-backed chair, the imp turns.

“The best, had a royal on the ropes just last week.” Striker sets his glass of wine on the desk, allowing Alessio - the imp’s butler - to refill their glasses.

Crimson was more of a whiskey man himself, he preferred the burn as much as the dulling numbness from the alcohol, but the wine wasn’t for him. It was for his guest.

“Sure, but not dead?” The question comes out sharper than he wants, but then again, Crim was not in a good mood.

He had been embarrassed. In public. Minutes after you disappeared, the shots of blue electricity following in your wake, the imp boss spotted a pissed-off mass of red barreling straight for the Entertainment District. The demon quickly called off his gang, knowing full well what a visit from the Radio Demon would bring his crew. Crim was brash, but he wasn’t stupid.

“It was... called off. But I have a body count in the hundreds! I ain't afraid to go after anyone. Women, kids-” The roar of the crowd outside interrupts their conversation, but the imp continues before climbing to his feet to check the window. “And cute little-faced puppy-lookin' things. Don't matter!

“Hmm…” Crim thought, “I'll tell ya what. If you can deliver something of value... I'll consider it. You see, I have a particularly irritating Heavenly creature I need something done about.”

Striker smirks, the gleam in his crazed eye evident even in the low light. Now that was an opportunity the assassin could not pass up. “One moment…”

Striker opens the window and pulls out his lasso. Sending the rope soaring into the streets below, the assassin finds his mark and pulls. Two figures fly into the room and slam against the back wall, interrupting a particularly intense game of billiards between two of Crim’s demons.

Fizzarolli and Blitz.

Crimson laughs, “Hired!”

Striker corners the two demons against the wall, “Funny to run into ya’ again, Blitzy!" The assassin pulls out his knife and slides toward the clown imp, pointing it under his chin. “And with a famous friend…”

Blitz rolls his eyes, “Oh, fuck me.”

Fizzarolli crosses his arms, “For the record, we are not friends.”

____________________________________________

The Night Before…

Normally chaos excited you. Normally you and Alastor couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the mere thought of it, but tonight… Tonight all you wanted to do was lay wrapped in his arms, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you played with the fur on his chest.

You were nervous. You were worried. Trepidation was such an odd thing, the potential promise of hurt an ever-looming dark cloud that threatened rain but never dropped it.

You’ve been worried for Alastor before, most notably the day Velvette fake kidnapped him atop V Tower, but not like this. This was disabling concern. It made you leave the pre-fight celebration early tonight - the last hoorah before looking death straight in the face tomorrow. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was life after death. This was extinction.

And if anything happened to Alastor, there would be no way to bring him back…

“My doe,” Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing you from your thoughts. “You’re sparking.”

“Oh,” you blinked, noticing the blues dancing off your skin. “Sorry.”

Alastor had noticed you sneaking off early from the festivities - because, of course, he did. When you had reached the top of the stairs and headed for your room, well… Alastor couldn’t have that now could he? Rolf shadowed the two of you to his room, where the demon insisted on a bath.

There wasn’t anything sexual about it. Alastor layed you against him as he scrubbed the stress from your skin, massaging the worry from your scalp as he shampooed your hair.

It was the day before battle and Alastor was taking care of you - YOU - a battle-born soldier who has seen more bloody encounters than she could count. You had faced down pure death and yet here you were, shaking like a leaf with anxiety as a Human Sinner soothed your worries.

Alastor ran a hand through your hair, tucking the locks gently behind your ear. “You’re worried.”

“I am,” you bit your lip, Alastor’s nails eliciting goosebumps as they trailed down your shoulder and arm.

It was ironic: the demon who detested physical contact couldn’t keep his hands off you. Yet, it was also an odd comfort. You had never been “touched” in this way before. You’ve never had someone be so gentle with you. Like your wings neatly tucked away, your skin had only ever really known things like hurt and pain. It was a weird adjustment to kindness and one you weren’t quite used to.

You still flinched whenever Alastor reached for you. You still jumped when he approached from behind. You still winced when his hand went to your hair…

Years of abuse and then years without… Your body still has a memory even if your mind was elsewhere.

“The plan will work,” Alastor hummed into your hair, the scent of his shampoo wafting off the two of you in droves. It would have been its own kind of soothing high had you not been so tense.

The two of you lay beneath his covers, wrapped in the warmth of Alastor’s Hotel bath robes. Your legs were intertwined with his, your toes warming themselves against the demon’s calves. Alastor always made a point to keep his hooves away from your feet - almost as if he was self-conscious about his lack of toes. Yet you fought him on it, intentionally tangling your legs together so he couldn’t pull away.

“It’s not the plan that worries me…” Your voice trailed off.

Alastor’s hand stopped to cup your face and guided your eyes to his. Worry crinkled his brow, his smile faltering to a thin line of his lips. There was understanding before he spoke, “You worry for me.”

Your lip trembled as you huffed. Digging your head into the fluff of his chest, you felt the hot tears begin to build behind your eyes, the air suddenly sucked from the room as your heart finally acknowledged the terrifying elephant in the room.

“Oh, ma biche chérie, ne verse pas de larmes pour mon âme. Oh, my darling doe, shed not tears for my Soul.”

“You’re facing Adam, tomorrow, Alastor - an extremely powerful Angel.” Your voice cracked.

Alastor gently tipped your face into his, your chin tucked between his forefinger and thumb. “An extremely powerful Human Soul.” The demon corrects.

A Human Soul.

Right.

Adam was merely a Human Soul. On the tiers of power he was leagues below you, but Alastor? You had always been taught that an Angel outweighs a Human Sinner in all aspects of reality, but then again you were also taught that Angels couldn’t die so…

“Promise me something?” You propped yourself up on your elbows as you spoke, overtowering Alastor beneath you. The demon wouldn’t be caught dead in this position with anyone else.

“Hmm,” he merely responded, his eyes gloomy with the weight of your worry.

“If anything happens…”

“It will not.”

“If anything happens,” you repeat. “Promise that you will either send Rolf for me or use the calling card?”

The demon paused for a breath, mixed emotions brewing within him. He couldn’t decide whether to give in to your worry for him as opposed to arguing against it. After all, Alastor the Radio Demon didn’t have a reputation for being weak. Your lack of confidence in him was not a lack of confidence. It was worry; albeit, misplaced. Alastor could take care of himself, he had for years. In his mind he had taken down top dogs more powerful than himself before - even Overlords before he became one. Adam was just another name on the list.

The Radio Demon wasn’t fretting over the confrontation so he didn’t see why you would be? Well… That’s not true. A part of him was worried but not for himself, for you. Tomorrow would shine a lot of Heavenly attention on the Hotel - unwanted attention for someone in hiding from Heaven. He worried what might happen to you should anyone discover who you are during the campaign - and you still hadn’t found your cloak.

Charlie had managed to help you stitch something together last minute but it was nothing compared to ancient magic. What you would be wearing tomorrow would be nothing but a clothed hood…

“And should anything happen to you?” The demon countered.

You blinked, not expecting the question.

“I have seen you die once, my doe. I will not see it again.”

There it was again: “my doe.”

“I will be by Charlie’s side the entire time. Should anything happen, Vaggie will be the one to let everyone know, for they will be going after the Princess next…”

“Hmm,” Alastor did not like that answer.

Then, a thought hit you. “Give me your card.”

Without any hesitation, Alastor pulled the obsidian calling card from the void and watched as you flipped the metal over, his true name hidden beneath your fingers. You waived your hand over the darkness and watched the black consolidate into text, like bleeding ink on wet paper but in reverse. It was a hidden contract in plain sight. One every Human Sinner inadvertently signed with their blood when you granted them the right to summon you.

“Rosie helped me design these.” You mumbled. “She wrote them, but I signed them. Perhaps if I…” The words changed beneath your hand, reforming a new contract. “There…” You handed the card back to Alastor and watched as the ink saturated the card, solidifying it into shining obsidian once more.

The demon raised an eyebrow at you.

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed it to your chest. “Close your eyes,” you demanded.

And he obeyed.

“Think of me,” you began. “Think of…”

“Lavender,” the demon interrupted almost immediately. After all, thinking of you wasn’t hard to do. The scent of the decadent flower filled the demon’s nose as real and as solid as the beat of your heart beneath his fingers. “Red wine.” Cabernet hit his tongue, the tannins dancing across his taste buds. The demon smiled, the curl of his lips lopsided as he smiled his iconic half-cocked grin. “The forest.” Greens and browns blinded the demon’s vision.

You sucked in a breath.

Alastor slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilating at the sight of you. “And… The humidity of Louisiana…”

You stared back, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Somewhere, somehow, along the way, Alastor had become a part of you…

Your heart kicked into a frenzy at what that meant, but still oh-so afraid to voice it…

Three little words and yet…

“The softness of your hair,” Alastor’s claws found your silver locks, his fingers threading through the strands. “Your skin.” The back of the demon’s knuckles traced your cheek. “Your lips.”

Alastor leaned in and kissed you. His tongue drinking in the lingering taste of you. He broke away for but a moment, “I can feel you.”

The obsidian calling cards gave you an unnatural avenue into the lives of the holders. It allowed you to feel their emotions, to scent their Souls, to taste their desires. The contract opened a connection that you and Rosie had not originally intended - yet didn’t change. Reconfiguring the contract had opened that door and allowed it to flow both ways. It was almost like the connection you shared when you inadvertently signed your verbal contract on the balcony of his radio tower - except this was different. It wasn’t as strong and only allowed you to sense the other - a mere skim of the surface compared to what you had experienced.

The demon drove you onto your back before settling himself between your legs. With his forehead on yours, the two of you out of breath, he spoke, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine*…"

You didn’t have a chance to switch your brain to French before the demon’s lips were back on yours, his hips perfectly aligned before driving himself in.

That night, before chaos and destruction, before death and suffering, before fear and heartbreak, you made love to the Radio Demon…

And you prayed - you prayed it wasn't the final time…

* "Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine" = This is an extremely sad quote that has many many meanings even in the French language. It can be translated as "dying from unfulfilled love," "Dying for love, living for hatred," etc... I used it here to mean "dying for love." Read into that how you will, but it's extremely fitting for Alastor's character arc at this point in time.

Last transition chapter - Chapter 18 will be the Finale! There will be alternate endings - please read author note before chapter 18 starts.

-> Chapter 18: My Fawn & My Shadow

-> Chapter 18: Paris

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 0 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail l @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen n @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

103 notes · View notes

kaylopolis · 11 months ago

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Sixteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

I'm so sorry! I've been so sick, but do not fret this fic is still alive!

Events of this fic take place right after Western Energy S2E4 of Helluva Boss. Full Moon events have not yet happened.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Sixteen - Let's Kill God

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of murder-suicide

Alastor smiles in his sleep.

It’s not his Radio Demon smile. It’s not his half-cocked know-it-all grin. It’s a soft upturn of the lips, a bittersweet smile that’s more sweet than bitter. One that can only be worn properly by the innocence of youth and not by an Overlord of Hell. You’ve only seen that look on his face once before: in Louisiana.

Over a round of King Cakes, Alastor told you of his mother and her joy. He made her seem perfect: the exact embodiment of what a mother should be. Your heart twisted in your chest for him. To have been loved, cared for, and cherished like that and then to have lost her in such a violent way…

Still, to have a mother ~period~ and one who raised such a respectable gentleman (despite the murders and cannibalism) is a treasure. In this moment, seeing the peace on Alastor’s sleeping face, you understand why he became the Bayou Strangler and then later the Radio Demon. To go after men of such caliber, of such terrible deeds over and over again. To prevent further violence and murder, those men might have committed.

It was like he was saving his mother over and over again with each of their deaths.

Alastor then wasn’t the Alastor you knew now. He was a completely different person before his father shot his mother in a murder-suicide. Just an innocent young man looking to make his own way in this world, all the while just trying to make his mother smile. He was powerless then and he’d never let himself be powerless ever again.

That’s where his thirst first took root: a legend born of violence. Not much different from yourself.

Alastor attempted to turn over in his sleep, but when his body couldn’t subconsciously turn from his back to his side, it woke him. The demon blinked out of synch, his left eye blinking and then his right, as if blinking the blanket of sleep away. It was cute, the way he dreamily met your gaze and smiled even wider. You couldn’t help but match his grin.

“It seems I am trapped,” his voice was groggy as he spoke.

“Oh, no. Whatever shall you do?” You joked.

You woke not long ago, minutes before the demon stirred himself. Eventually, the silence of the room woke you. There was no music on his radio, no static - a barrier of white noise to keep out the silence that haunted your dreams.

When you had woken you didn’t move. At some point in the night your wings had appeared and cocooned the two of you in a black blanket of feathers. It’s a good thing your feathers were soft - unlike some of your brothers whose wings poked and itched like Hell whenever you rubbed up against them.

Alastor scooted closer to you, his eyelids drooping. The demon once told you he barely ever slept - his own personal curse. Yet, last night, the two of you passed out the second your heads hit the pillow.

It had been a long, exhausting day, after all…

The thought that Alastor finally found some peace was a relief to you and most likely explained the radio silence. His body was finally able to relax, which meant he felt safe here, cocooned in your swaddle of protection.

You snuggled up into the demon, not wanting to leave the warmth of your embrace, which encased the two of you from head to knees - well, your calves and Alastor’s knees.

Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, “How are you this morning, mon couer?”

You sighed in the fluff of his chest at the sound of Alastor’s raw and unfiltered voice, “Sore.”

It was true. Your body had taken a beating - most notably your lower abdomen.

Alastor chuckled, the vibrations running through his chest and into your own. God, you’d kill if only to hear that sound again, a moment more.

The demon ran a hand through your hair, the other trapped beneath the pillow supporting your head. Alastor shivered when you ran your foot across his calves and over his hooves.

Hooves. Damn. Alastor was the only demon classy enough to not only make them look posh but also sexy at the same time. If only Hell knew. Maybe he would have won Hell’s Hottest Bachelor, after all.

As the demon massaged your scalp, your wings tightened as if sensing the end of your perfect moment slowly slipping away. The two of you have been hiding up here since the fight. You hadn’t called anyone or texted anyone to let them know that you were alive - not that you could text, but Alastor did have a hidden landline. Rosie was probably the only one to think that the two of you didn’t kill each other off and that’s only because she was playing matchmaker and was still holding out. Everyone else? They are going to be pissed.

“What’s wrong?” Alastor asked, cupping your chin and tilting your face into his. The red of Alastor’s irises burned into your cheeks.

If you ever found whatever force designed Human Sinners’ demon forms, you would thank it a million times over for this man.

Apparently, you had sighed a bit too loud at the thought of Angel throttling you when you got back to the Hotel.

“I just… I don’t want this to end,” you swallowed dryly. “I’ve had so few perfect moments in my life that I’ve learned to appreciate one when I am in it, but I'm desperate for them to never end.”

Honestly, you had no idea what life was going to look like now, what it was going to look like when the two of you went back to the Hotel - if there was a Hotel to go back to. What if Charlie didn’t want you there anymore? All your presence would do is invite competition, just as Sir Pentious came seeking Alastor that first fateful day you met. Not to mention the sheer emotional and mental damage you put Charlie through by lying to her about who you really are.

Charlie had every reason to hate you and every reason to kick you out. What then? Would the rest of the Hotel gang still want to be friends with someone like you? It’s bad enough they know you're an Angel, but an Archangel at that… Mikaela Morningstar, the famous Golden Girl and General of all of God’s armies, and now a Hotel guest of Princess Morningstar. That’s a sentence you never thought you’d say.

So no, you didn’t want to leave your little cocoon of protection just yet, but you knew you needed to. You had to face reality eventually…

“This does not have to end,” Alastor breathed into your hair, the demon woefully intoxicated on your scent.

You scrunch your nose in confusion.

The demon ran his thumb over your cheek, “Join me for dinner tonight and we can pick up right where we left off?”

A flock of butterflies erupted in your chest, “Alastor Hartfelt, are you asking me on a date?”

As if in response, the radio on the side table flickered to life. Alastor smiled his half-cocked grin as Nat King Cole’s “Darling je vous aime beaucoup” thrummed to life on the radio.

Oh, my God. A date. A date with the Radio Demon? A date with the Radio Demon! A date with Alastor! You’d compare this sensation to how you felt when Vox asked you out - repeatedly, you might add - but didn’t want to think of the overgrown iPod while you were naked in bed with Alastor.

“I…” You smiled in disbelief. “I…”

“Say yes,” Alastor’s free hand found your hip. He pulled you flush against him, running his claws down your thigh, he hooked it over his waist. Your leg sat perfectly in the dip of where his hip crested - as if it was designed just for you.

Actually, all of Alastor fit you like a glove: his hands a perfect cup full for your breasts; the way his curves matched yours as you lay enveloped within each other on your sides; he was the perfect height for you to lean into him and rest your head on the fluff of his chest.

“Yes,” you said, capturing his lips with yours, but pulled back with a gasp as Alastor flipped you atop him.

Straddling Alastor’s waist, your wings instinctively stretched out, unfolding to their full width. Groaning, you rolled your shoulders, working out the stiffness that had cultivated overnight. How long were you unconsciously cuddling Alastor like that?

“Absolutely breathtaking,” the demon lay mesmerized by your feathers. Capturing a feather between his fingers, the demon traced the length of its spine, relishing in the softness of the black vane.

Rarely have your wings been touched by hands not your own. Pain. Your wings have only known pain. In battle, they’ve been stabbed by steel, sliced by arrows, singed by magic… Bare hands have only ripped and shredded your plume. Never have they been touched by strong yet gentle hands. It was almost a shock to the system to feel his fingers caress your feathers.

And, apparently, wings are very sensitive…

You saw the question in his eyes before he even asked it. “I didn’t portal to Hell the day Rosie found me,” you shuttered when he collected another feather between his fingers, this one lower down and longer than the previous. “I slipped between the planes, the way a Soul would after it died. I didn’t notice that my wings had turned black or my hair grey until after Carmilla strung me up from the ceiling of Rosie’s back room, and the evidence was lying at my feet.”

Alastor’s expression suddenly changed, his eyebrows knit together, his smile flattened to a thin line. “Did it hurt?”

You blinked. “Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from Heaven?” A half-cocked smile slowly spread across his face.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Before you had a chance to stop him, Alastor flipped you again, this time placing himself on top. With wings splayed out around you - the tips just barely brushing the edge of Alastor’s gigantic mattress - the demon’s body encased your own. The fluff of his chest pressed into your bare breasts as he leaned in for a kiss. His tongue strokes yours for the briefest of moments before retreating.

“How I do so enjoy the taste of you, mon couer,” the demon purred, placing one hand beside your head to support himself. The other found the crest of your wings. Tracing the bend in your black cape with his finger, the demon maintained eye contact, watching as your lips parted, the gasp escaping your teeth.

His eyes sparked. “And that look, that sound - that reassures me that I have ensnared you as much as you have me.”

“I think you also like torturing me,” you breathed, your heart kicking up as Alastor aligned his hips with yours. You were both naked - having foregone even the bathrobes not long after your session on the balcony.

Alastor tilted his head back and laughed before wrapping his hands around your waist and tugging you down into him. Alastor’s cock was pressed firmly between your hips and his, settling on your lower belly. You debated folding your wings away, but the thought of fucking Alastor while his fingers stroked your feathers…

“Mon couer, I love torturing you.”

Before you had a chance to question his choice of words, Alastor sheathed himself inside you. You cry out at the sudden sensation, but already, he is withdrawing and thrusting back in. Wrapping your arms around his neck…

There was a pull behind your navel. You stopped abruptly, your entire body freezing. Alastor also froze, sensing the sudden change.

Orange and mint. Your vision was flooded with the hues of purple. Fuck. “Octavia,” you breathed.

Alastor slowly pulled out, moving so you could jump to your feet. “The armoire on the left.”

Folding your wings in and magicking them away, you jumped to your feet. The wooden wardrobe was stocked with clothes you had never seen before—all obviously here for you. Move now, question later. Grabbing for a pair of pants, you searched the room for the black underwear and bra Alastor took off you yesterday two days ago?

“Top drawer,” Alastor motioned to the dresser by the bathroom door. The demon sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees, the sheets covering his more sensitive parts - the parts your heart really wanted to see.

You pulled open the first drawer, questioningly, before slamming it shut. “That is not underwear,” you couldn’t help but snort.

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Was that Rosie’s idea or yours?” You pulled on the slacks as Alastor ditched the bedsheets for a closer look. You stared then, taking your fill of where exactly that red happy trail led before he pulled open the drawer.

The demon looked as shocked as you did, but there was an underlying hint of devilry that gleamed in his eye. Okay, so it was Rosie’s idea, but Alastor was more than pleased by it. You huffed and pulled out the least scandalous bra in the drawer—red, of course—and spun before pulling it on. You couldn’t look Alastor in the eye for fear you might never leave this bedroom again - not that you were complaining.

The demon grabbed a grey sweater with a turtle neck - the same color as your hair - and a black clip. He held it behind you as you threaded your arms through the sleeves. Alastor took the buttons from you while you flipped your hair into a knot, the metal securing it in place. You did a double-take. Was Alastor taking care of you?

SNAP! A portal appeared. The color of the sky told you it was the Pride Ring. What was Octavia doing in the Sinner Circle?

The demon wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Fuck, he was still hard.

A wave of cold breezed past your ankles. “You’re not sending me alone.” A statement, not a question.

Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead as a cold breeze swam past your ankles again: Rolf. You should have guessed - the demon didn’t leave you alone when you were his enemy, why would he start now when you were his… His what exactly? You didn’t dare ask, it was too soon, too early to broach that topic. But one thing did pop into your head as you stepped through the crack in reality: what were you going to tell Rosie?

The Radio Demon smirked as he handed you a pair of shoes, “Till tonight, mon couer.”

POP! The portal closed, leaving you with a pair of brand-new Mary Janes in a dirty alleyway. You allowed yourself one final breath to think of the demon who so often took it away before bolting for the street.

It was time to move.

“Stolas got what? How…? He can get hurt?” Blitz’s voice carried over the crowd of reporters swarming the main entrance to St. An’s Hospital.

What the fuck is going…

“Thestral!” Octavia appears behind you before you got a chance to speak, tugging you towards the I.M.P. Crew who looked absolutely defeated.

Millie and Moxie are covered in blood. Loona’s in a cone. Blitz just looks absolutely dumbstruck. What is happening?

“Where is he?” Octavia demands of the group. The poor owlette looks scared out of her mind. Which is saying a lot because she rarely shows emotion on her face. The girl could cycle through five different emotions and if you couldn’t hear the inflection in her voice you would never know what she was thinking.

“They just took ‘em inside,” Millie bows her head.

“How…” Blitz’s voice cracks. The imp continues to stare into the crowd, his mind still not truly processing the events unfolding before him. Meanwhile Loona is passed out in the back seat of the van.

Jesus, what kind of day did they have? More importantly, why are you being summoned only now? Or had you been summoned earlier but were too busy to notice?

Guilt sours in your stomach.

Octavia takes one look at the crowd, and immediately you know what she’s thinking.

“Rolf,” I whisper, knowing the shadow can hear me. “Get us up there.”

Taking hold of Octavia’s arm, Rolf shadows you into a sterile white hallway. A team of plague doctors work vehemently behind a glass wall, doing whatever it is healers do to injured Goetia Princes.

A sob rocks through Octavia’s chest as she collapses against the window. You do your best to catch her, your mind flitting through a million different scenarios as to how exactly this could have happened.

Angels can die. Goetian Princes can get hurt.

What next…?

____________________________________________

It had been hours before the plague doctors allowed you and Octavia to enter the room. It was hours while you stood there and did nothing but watch. You could have healed him right then and there with your blood. You could have done something to ease his suffering instantly…

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not with the media breathing down your neck outside and an entire hospital monitoring his health. Hell knew you were an Angel, but they didn’t know what you could do. That was a secret you weren’t going to share but you did let yourself think about it if only for a moment.

You stared down at your hands, your blackened fingers looking more elegant and refined than lethal. They didn’t look like weapons—not like Alastor’s claws. Your skin was soft, absent of callouses and scars a battle-borne soldier should have. In fact, you never scarred, save for the bite mark that refused to fade from your neck. It’s almost as if your body heard your wish and kept that one just for you.

But your hands… If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were hands of healing, not hurting. Was that what you were intended for before Father dug his twisted sense of morals into your brain? If not, then why gift you with the power of healing? Lucifer couldn’t do that. None of your brothers could. Their blood was golden, but it wasn’t magical.

Why was yours?

You swallowed that thought, the emotions burning your throat as you made to stand. You had to get back to the Hotel eventually, and Octavia was passed out in the chair at her dad’s side, a blanket thrown over her sleeping form.

“She won’t forgive you when she finds out, you know?” Stolas’ voice shakes you from your thoughts. How long had he been awake?

“Stolas,” you find your seat once more. “I’m sorry I…”

“You did not know,” the Prince answers softly, afraid of waking his sleeping owlette. “Neither did Octavia.”

“What happened?” You whisper back.

“Take Octavia to her mother, will you?” He changes the subject. If he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t blame him. You’ve seen enough shell-shocked soldiers to know when to leave it be. At least he was awake and talking.

“I will,” you breathe. Stolas still thought you were trustworthy enough to take care of his daughter even though…? “I gave myself away in Louisiana, didn’t I?” The keys. He knew a Human Sinner couldn’t cross between Rings. Yesterday’s news merely confirmed it.

Stolas met your gaze then, his usual soft eyes now full of… despair. “You have protected my daughter like you would a sister, and for that, I am grateful, but after today…” The Prince huffed. “Take her to her mother and take the card with you.”

You blinked. “Stolas, I would never hurt Octavia…”

“Take. It. With. You.” The Prince commanded, steel coating his words. “And the keys…” He added as an afterthought.

You didn’t dare say another word. The message was clear as day. Fuck, you couldn’t argue with him. Your mere presence invited trouble now that Hell knew who and what you were. Regardless of how you run into Octavia in the future, you’d be putting her at risk just by being around her.

And Stolas was a father scorned…

You nodded your head before collecting a sleeping Octavia in your arms.

“Goodbye Stolas…” And Rolf shadowed you into darkness.

____________________________________________

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Keenie squeaked.

“Of course, I’m sure!” Cletus barked from his place beside her.

“I’m so excited!” Collin sang.

The three banished Cherubs stood peaking around the corner, searching the growing mob of media crowding the front doors.

“She’s not just going to walk right in the front door!” Keenie argued, the yellow floof of her hair swaying with the shake of her head. “Look at how many demons are here!”

“Well, how else is she going to get in?” Cletus argued.

“Oh! Oh! During the Battle of Troy, she convinced the Greeks to build a giant wooden horse to hide inside…” Collin began.

Cleatus banged him on top of the head. “Would you shut up!? Mikaela Morningstar isn’t going to sneak inside the Hazbin Hotel in a horse! This isn’t one of your fan club meetings!”

Two days ago, Cleatus received a phone call from Rachel, who had given them an ultimatum. Track down the rogue Angel and bring her home. In exchange, they earn back their place in Heaven.

Then Cleatus got the picture.

And Collin went ape-shit.

“Hey! The Golden Girl Groupies are not just a fan club, okay? We are a group of warriors who would volunteer our lives if General Morningstar were to ever go to war again! We have studied, we have trained…”

“We are annoying!” Keenie interrupted him. “I swear if I have to hear one more…!”

“Stop it!” Kleatus jumped in the middle. “Look!”

The Cherub pointed down the road to a figure melting from the shadows. A silver-haired, pale-faced woman took one look at the growing crowd blocking the entrance to the Hotel before taking a step back and disappearing once more. It was but a moment but it was long enough.

“That’s her!” Collin’s jaw was practically on the floor, his eyes glazed over in amazement. “The last time I saw her in person was during the Welcome Home parade after the last Crusades on Earth!”

Kleatus and Keenie nodded at one another.

It was confirmed. Their target was none other than the famous Archangel Mikaela Morningstar. And they were going to bring her home whether she liked it or not.

____________________________________________

Niffty’s voice was the first one you heard as you shadowed into the lobby of the Hotel. “Yeah. Where are your tits?”

Vaggie sighs, “Any other questions?”

Husk grumbles, “I got one. How come every time Charlie talks to Heaven, we get in deeper and deeper shit?”

The gang hadn’t noticed you yet as you quietly tiptoed into the foyer—well, except for Alastor. The zip of static running down your spine told you he was here, and he knew you were, too. You hadn’t really talked to the crew since the big reveal. You didn’t know how they were going to take it, but walking in on a conversation such as this was not boding well for you.

The ex-exorcist rubs her temples, “It's not her fault. Angels are just…”

Angel Dust interrupts, “Liars?”

And the other shoe drops…

“Mikaela, how lovely it is for you to finally join us!” Alastor lights up like a Christmas tree as you round the corner.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him in a newly pressed black tailored suit. Seems Rosie made him more than one, but this one put him in all black - even the suit jacket beneath. His hair was tied back from his face into a short ponytail at the back of his head, accenting his sharp teeth as he beamed at you.

God, you loved this man in form-fitting black. It made the butterflies in your belly fly circles in anticipation. And his hair? You never wanted to wear your hair up again for fear of never feeling Alastor’s fingers combing through it ever again. Meanwhile, you never wanted Alastor to wear his down. He was too handsome, too deadly, too enticing, with his hair pulled back from his face.

You froze as all eyes fell on you.

Fuck. What do you do? Do you greet Alastor back and find a seat? Do you sit by him? Do you sit far away from him? Do you not even respond at all? Do you respond normally - wait, what would normal even look like!?

You didn’t know what to do. You and Alastor hadn’t had a talk to straighten out whatever was between you. You didn’t establish boundaries or titles - if there were even titles to be given. No, this was all too soon. Maybe Alastor didn’t even want to have any titles? Maybe he wanted to keep this all a secret? Revealing what you meant to him…

Alastor stood and crossed the distance between the two of you before you could even think. Claiming your hand in his, the demon pressed a kiss to the top and smiled, “Tu es toujours aussi belle, ma cherie. You look as lovely as ever, my darling.”

You sucked in a breath, waiting for the others’ reactions.

“I’m outta ‘ere!” Angel threw his many hands in the air before stomping away. The spider demon stormed up the stairs, not daring even a glance in your direction.

Was Angel mad at you?

“Come,” Alastor leads you to the sofa as Rolf swirls around your feet. “Take a seat.”

The demon sat you at the end of the couch, directly adjacent to the armchair he had been inhabiting before you showed up.

Husk gave you a quick nod as you passed, signaling that things between the two of you were good. However, the nasty look he shot Alastor after displayed his disapproval of that situation. Yet the group did not comment. Probably too afraid of what Alastor might do, had they.

“Charlie’s trying her best,” Vaggie continued. The Ex-Exorcist didn’t know what to make of you in that moment, her eyes constantly flitting back to Alastor who was currently humming in his chair, nonchalantly listening to the conversation. The demon did love gossip.

You had a sickening feeling that Vaggie’s eventual confrontation was coming. Not at this moment, however. She had enough on her plate to deal with.

Husk took a swig of his drink. “Yeah, well, her best is turning out real well so far.”

You blinked, finally noting the Princess’ absence. “Where is Charlie anyway?”

Vaggie shot you a look you couldn’t smell - the scents too muddled together. Exasperation? Annoyance? Sadness? Guilt. Definitely guilt. “She’s upstairs. Coming up with something. I’m sure. In our room. Alone.”

Alastor’s “Hmm,” would have been barely perceptible had you not been hyper-aware of the demon’s every move. Alastor leaned in, “I’ll be back in a moment, ma cherie.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “What happened to ‘mon couer?” You teased.

The demon’s grin turned sideways. “I think that’s best saved for when we are… alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Can hear everything the two of you are saying,” Husk grumbled next to you. “Just so ya’ know.”

Your face heated as Alastor melted into shadow, silently giggling as Rolf whisked him away.

Nifty ran to the base of your shoes, “Where are your wings?”

POP!

The black mass of feathers unfurled behind you

“Ooooohhhhh,” Sir Pentious clapped. “Ssssssssplendid!”

“Owe!” You jumped.

Nifty grabbed a fistful of feathers. The tiny demon laughed maniacally, “For my collection.” Then she took off to who knows where to do who knows what.

Yet again, you repeat to yourself, Nifty was not a mystery you wanted to solve.

“Show off,” you heard Vaggie mutter.

Okay, you kinda felt bad about Vaggie’s situation, but now everyone knows.

“Hey, aren't you like her boss or something?” Husk asks.

And the questions begin.

“Technically no…”

You begin, but Vaggie interrupts you, “The General was in charge of God’s armies. The Exorcists are under Adam’s domain and technically a secret division in Heaven.”

“Wait,” Husk does a double take. “You mean to tell me that Heaven doesn’t even know about the Exterminations?”

“Nope,” Vaggie crosses her arms. “Well, they do now…”

“What kind of fucked up…”

Maniacal laughter interrupts the conversation as Nifty sprints back into the foyer, a ball of golden fluff in her hands. “Look! Look! Look!” She sings like a small child. “Another for my collection!”

“What isssss that?” Sir Pentious asks.

Husks plucks it out of her little hands. The tiny demon protests, jumping for her newfound treasure as the cat demon holds it out of reach. “It looks like wool.”

“Like from a sssssheep?” The snake demon slivers over to get a better look.

“Nifty, where did you get that?” Vaggie prods.

“The little flying sheep gave me…”

“Ahhh!” You collapse as a burst of power shoots through your core, the sudden intrusion of magic burning you from the inside out. The room is plunged into an aura of green as your face hits the carpet.

“No. No!” Vaggie screams and runs for Charlie’s room.

Husk slowly lifts you off the floor and guides you back onto the sofa. “Are you okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m…” You hold your head to force the world to stop spinning, the pain fading as fast as it had appeared. Whatever the fuck that was, it felt… familiar. “What was that?”

Husk looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “It looked like Boss’ static.”

Alastor’s magic. That was impossible. You released Alastor from his contract. You couldn’t have access to his magic anymore. At least, you shouldn’t. Right?

Looking down at your hands you watch the remainder of the green aura fade into your skin. Your blood, it felt energized as if a surge of electricity had charged it like a battery. It was eerily similar to the feeling you got when you had Velvette by the throat atop V Tower.

You had wielded Alastor’s magic in that fight as if it were your own. His static jumped at your command, the power pooling into a well large enough to take down one of Crim’s balls of electricity. Fuck, even your voice became riddled with Alastor’s radio filter.

You had chalked that up to the verbal contract the two of you had made many moons ago atop the radio tower. Now? Now it didn’t make sense…

Sir Pentious joins you on the couch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just…” You had an instinct to run to Alastor since whatever had just happened was because of him. That’s why Vaggie took off for Charlie’s room. Did he… Did he make a deal? Is that what that was? You started to panic.

Did he own Charlie’s soul? Did Charlie even have a soul?

Shit. That’s not how this was supposed to go. Charlie was supposed to be an intermediary in this plan - a tool to threaten Heaven and nothing more. She wasn’t supposed to become part of the game.

Wait. Wait! Don’t panic. Alastor also made a deal with Lilith and Lilith wasn’t stupid. If the protection of Charlie was part of your deal then it was also a part of Alastor’s. Whatever the demon had just done, Charlie wouldn’t be harmed.

Hopefully…

You sat back on the couch, your mind swimming with a million different questions, but deep down… Deep down, you trusted Alastor.

Fuck. You trusted him.

“I just need to lie down a bit…”

You trusted him, and you were okay with it.

And suddenly, the ever-solo Golden Girl found herself not so lonely anymore. And you didn’t mind it - the thought of your little solo act suddenly becoming a duo.

Only if that’s what Alastor also wanted…

____________________________________________

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

You stood in nothing but a towel before the red dress hanging in your closet. That!? Rosie had made you that!? That devil of a woman. You were going to have a serious talk about her recent lengths regarding your wardrobe. Red, you were okay with, but the lingerie and now this!?

The dress was a red crepe with a low-hanging neckline and thigh-high leg slit. It was completely backless, which meant you were going to have to wear your hair down (which you wanted to do anyway). But, it also meant hiding your rune in public was going to be difficult.

Which meant you were going to need a shawl or something to cover it up. You didn’t have a shawl, however, but you know who would. And you got the sense that he was royally pissed with you.

Forgoing your bath towel for a Hotel robe, you quietly tiptoed to Angel’s door. You didn’t know why you felt the need to be quiet; not like Angel was going to attack you or anything, but instinct just took over.

There was music playing on the other side of the door—some sort of pop music, probably something by Verosika Mayday. You and Angel hadn’t really talked since Lucifer’s visit when he convinced you to tell Alastor the truth. Sure, he watched over you during that week when you and Alastor weren’t talking, but you had pushed him away the entire time. You had snapped, argued, rolled your eyes, and dismissed any attempt he had at trying to break you from your spiral of depression and guilt.

You had pushed and pushed, and all he did was try to help you. So when you quietly knocked on his door, it wasn’t so much to ask for a shawl or a jacket or whatever. It was to apologize.

“Go away!” Angel yelled over the music.

“Angel, can we talk?” You rubbed the back of your neck, the bubbles of anxiety festering within.

There was a moment of silence before the door slowly opened but a crack. The spider demon stood on the other side, closed off despite his willingness to engage in conversation. God, he looked angry.

“What?” His words were sharp and pointed.

Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through, you hadn’t rehearsed anything. So, you simply said, “You seem mad…”

Angel raised an eyebrow, “Ya’ tink? Did ya’ big scary Angel powers tell ya’ that?”

Shit.

“Angel, I…”

“Be careful what ya’ say, Hairclip. Every time ya’ open ya’ mouth, ya’ lie.” Angel snaps.

Ah, that’s why he’s mad.

“I…”

Fuck, you weren’t good at this feelings thing. You were awkward and couldn’t understand how to comfort others. Friendships - not alliances - were new to you. But hadn’t that been what you were doing from the start? Despite your apprehension, you had grown attached to the Hazbin crew and they you.

They were your friends and so it was time you started acting like one.

Your Endgame plan was growing more and more complicated by the day.

“I’m sorry,” it came out as a whisper. “I’ve been a terrible friend. I’ve disappeared on you not once but twice now. I’ve lied. I’ve manipulated. I’ve done nothing but hurt you and use you and for that I am sorry. I’m a horrible friend and for that I do not deserve your friendship.” You hung your head low.

Angel sucked his golden tooth, the hallway filling with awkward tension. And right before you thought it was going to explode in a wave of anger, Angel spoke. “Look,” he huffed. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I never pretended to be somethin’ I ain’t.”

Right. That’s what killed Angel in the end. A gay Italian gangster in his time… The demon’s overdose wasn’t an accident.

“But, if we’re gonna do this friendship thang, we gotta do it right. No more of this lyin’ and disappearin’ bullshit.” With one set of hands on his hip, the spider demon opens the door completely.

Wait. What?

“And you're gettin’ a phone. I want no pushback on that one, sistah. I ain’t havin’ ya’ disappear on me again without at least a heads-up.”

Holy shit. You thought he was going to cut you out of his life like Stolas had, but no, he was making room for you in it. With stipulations, of course, but you could follow his rules, no problem! Whatever he wants so long as you still get to call him a friend.

A friend! A real friend you didn’t want to kill and who didn’t want to kill you! A friend that wasn’t being ordered by Father to hang out with you or forced to follow your orders!

You jumped on the demon, bringing him into a bear hug that squeezed the breath from his chest.

“Thank you,” you breathed into his fluff.

“Alright, alright, toots. Come inside, we got a lot of catchin’ up to do….”

____________________________________________

“Why is she just standing there?” Cleatus whispered.

“She looks so pretty!” Collin drooled.

“This is our moment. We should go confront her.” Keenie shoved Collin out of the way.

“Wait!” Cleatus grabbed Keenie by her floof and hauled her back around the corner.

“Hey! Stop it! My head is still sore from that rat pulling out my hair!” The sheep protested.

“What are you going to say?” Cleatus whispered. “Hello, General Morningstar, we’re here to take you back to Heaven, so if you’ll just follow us…”

“So pretty…” Collin continued to ogle at the Angel standing before the doorway in a red, form-fitting dress. Her hair pooled down her back and shoulders in curled waves of silver. The curved neckline accented her breasts, while the backless dress swooped just above the crest of her hips, highlighting her feminine silhouette. In her hands she held a silver shawl. “She’s as beautiful as she is heavenly.” The goat swooned.

Cleatus rolled his eyes. “We need a plan.”

“How do you know she’s not here on a mission from Heaven?”Collin stepped in. “Why do you assume she’s Fallen?”

“She’s in Hell. Cavorting with demons!” Keenie shook him. “She’s killed human souls. We all saw the footage, Collin.”

“But so did we…!” Collin countered.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The three Cherubs stacked their heads as they peered around the corner. A large shadowed figure opened the bedroom door and chaperoned the Angel inside. The door shut and then locked behind her.

“Now what…?” Keenie mumbled.

____________________________________________

You wouldn’t be going out tonight. You’d be staying in. As Rolf guided you into Alastor’s pitch-black room, a series of candles lit as if on cue, illuminating a walkway that led into the Bayou.

“What…”

Rolf smiled as he ushered you down the aisle way of fire, out into the grass of the pocket dimension. Your heels sunk into the ground, the bottom of your red dress dragging in the dirt. The shadow paused to take your shoes and shawl, then bunched the train of your dress for you to carry as you made your way across the plain.

It was night in the Bayou. The only light was from the candles at your feet, which led you towards the ever-growing forest and the twinkle of the stars above. As you grew ever closer to the trees, the soft sound of jazz quickly replaced the chirping of crickets.

You smiled as the static found your skin and the aura of Alastor’s scent filled your nose. As you rounded the large trunk of a tree, you came upon a small but familiar clearing. The same clearing he had shadowed you that night he meant to confront you. Now it was surrounded by candlelight and at the center…

“Perfect timing as always, mon couer,” Alastor spun, a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other.

The demon stood there, hand outstretched with the goblet, in an all-black button-up and trousers. With his hair pulled back, the demon’s eyes soaked you in, and his smile dropped. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

You dropped the train of your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet. “Have I done something wrong?”

Alastor fell to his knees then and there, his radio skipping off its track. The goblet of wine and the bottle set gently in the grass. Taking your hands in his, he whispered, “You could never do wrong, mon couer.”

“Then why do you look at me like that?” Your red lips turned down in a pout.

“Can a demon not be rendered speechless by the most beautiful sight he has ever seen? Can he not be brought to his knees by such a wondrous creature, the embodiment of power itself? Can he not adore the vessel which adorns it, wholly and completely?”

His words render you breathless, and your mind blanks with a response. Rosie was wrong when she said Alastor showed he cared through his actions, not his words. Alastor took days to show you he cared through action, and by words, well… the demon spoke poetry.

So when he called you “absolutely beautiful” moments before he stabbed that Angelic blade into your gut, he was not talking about the power itself. He was talking about you.

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his. For what could you say to match that?

“Come,” the demon said, climbing to his feet and pressing the goblet of wine in your hand. He had a wicked grin on his face as he led you towards the blanket, which held a picnic of food. “A little birdy informed me you enjoy a nice night in with a home-cooked meal and bottle of wine.”

You smiled as you sit, “A little cat, you mean?”

Yes, of course Husk rendered word for word your little rant after your date with Vox. Of course Alastor memorized each one.

“I know not what you mean,” Alastor smiles as he lay next to you, his own glass of wine in his claws. The demon’s fingers found the swoop in the fabric of your dress, his claw tracing the red as it lined your back.

Goosebumps formed on your skin. “And what of today?” You prod, referring to the small army Charlie arranged to fight Adam and his Exorcists.

Alastor takes a sip of the glass as he lays back on the blanket, supported by his elbow. “A gift.”

You blinked. “A gift?”

“The spark to ignite your war,” he smiles.

“You did that for me?” You asked.

Alastor places his glass down next to the picnic basket filled with what you assume is Alastor’s cooking. “Not wholly.”

You swallowed dryly. “You made a contract?”

The demon’s eyes fall to the basket. “In exchange, the Princess owes me a favor.”

Good, not her soul.

“Charlie can not be harmed,” you said carefully. You were touching upon Lilith but didn’t want to mention her by name, which was a sore topic for Alastor.

“I cannot, and neither can you,” he said, finding your arm and tracing it to the strap on your shoulder.

Also, good.

“We have three days,” Alastor continued. “I wish to spend them wisely.”

A.k.a. no more talking of plans and schemes.

“Speaking of which, you saw Rosie today,” you take another sip. “How mad is she?”

The demon hooked his claw under your strap, playing with it as he spoke, “On the contrary, the woman is insufferably happy.”

You beamed. Of course, she is.

“She’s taken it upon herself to design you a dress.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“To meet my mother,” Alastor played with the strap, his mind elsewhere.

Oh… Oh!

“But she’s… Unreachable at the moment.” You breathed. When had you become so breathless?

“In Louisiana, darling. I wish to visit her grave. If you’ll take us?” Alastor’s eyes met yours. Nothing but grief and sadness filled them despite the smile on his face.

“Of course,” you captured his hand with yours and brought it to your cheek. “In a heartbeat.” You press a kiss to his palm.

The demon smiled.

“But,” you smirked, “you must promise me something?”

“Anything,” Alastor answered immediately.

“For the next three days, you’ll train footwork with me.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Your footwork and swordsmanship are atrocious, and…!”

Alastor grabbed your hand and pulled you onto him. The glass of wine spilled into the grass as the demon wrapped one hand around the back of your neck and brought you into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue darted out for yours.

Alastor broke away, seemingly unphased by the action, a knowing half-cocked grin on his face, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

You were… Fuck, your entire mind went blank.

“I apologize,” he chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you arrived. I would have greeted you with a kiss, but this dress was distracting.”

You smiled back, your cheeks turning as red as the fabric. And then the question hit you again. “Alastor, when you spoke to Rosie today, what did you tell her?”

The demon’s eyes caught on something behind you. “It’s time.”

It’s time?

The demon motioned for you to lay down next to him, your back on the blanket and your eyes on the canopy of the trees. “Alastor, what are we…?”

“Shh,” the demon shushed. “Wait.”

The candles winked out at once, plunging the two of you into darkness. It was a rather odd change to the conversation, but you let it happen. It's not like the answer to that question wasn’t killing you inside or anything…

CLICK!

Alastor’s radio switched stations. Nat King Cole’s “My First and My Last Love” began playing.

��I recall all the days of my childhood

And that bashful romance that we knew

In my teens, as I roamed through the wild wood

Then my first and my last love was you 🎶

As if on cue, a wave of green fireflies shot out of the darkness. The small bugs surrounded the two of you, as if you were swimming in your own sea of stars.

And the answer to your question has finally been answered: “was this romance?”

🎶When I strayed from our green fields of Clover

Still I knew that my heart would be true

Though I wandered the world like a rover

Still my first and my last love was you🎶

No, this was not romance. It was so much more.

You turned to Alastor, only to notice that he had not been watching the wonder around you but rather you the entire time.

🎶And your love haunted me like a song

Till it brought me back where I belong🎶

The green danced in his blown-out pupils as you nudged closer to him. Alastor’s forehead met yours as he whispered, “You asked me what I had told Rosie.”

🎶Now the days of my youth are behind me

And the years we have left may be few

But my memories will always remind me

That my first and my last love was you🎶

You nodded. You held your breath in anticipation of his answer.

“I told her what she had told me long ago,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “That one cannot live without their heart.” The demon cupped your face. “And you are mine, mon couer. I'm your guy, and you're my gal."

You sucked in a breath, “That doesn’t just mean being with me, Alastor. It also entails what comes with.”

🎶And your love haunted me like a song Till it brought me back where I belong🎶

The Endgame. Although Alastor had shown interest, he didn’t necessarily commit. Yes, today was a show of good faith, but there was something in it for him too. You needed a commitment to you and the plan. He could not get one without the other, but the demon already knew that.

The demon chuckled low. His other hand coming to the slit in your dress, and you gasped as his fingers met the outside of your thigh and climbed higher and higher. At the base of your ass, he grabbed your leg and threw it over his waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

The green danced all around you as Alastor ran a hand through your silver hair, his fingers playing with your curls. “Well then…”

🎶Now the days of my youth are behind me And the years we have left may be few But my memories will always remind me That my first and my last love was you🎶

His voice was low and filled with lust as he said, “Let’s kill God.”

And before you had a chance to reply, the demon pulled you in and kissed you savagely.

There was no more need for words after that. The food was long forgotten - for now. You’d be eating it afterward… The demon pulled you fully up onto him, his vision swimming with nothing but you in red and the green of the fireflies surrounding you, illuminating you.

And as Alastor broke the kiss to stare up at the Fallen Angel above him, he had cemented what he had been telling himself all along. He'd destroy, he'd kill, and he'd raise Heaven and Hell if it meant keeping you here by his side. Killing God was a menial task if it meant he got to keep you as the prize, but the Radio Demon had left out a few details regarding his talk with Rosie. You were his heart, that much was true, but he had much bigger plans in store for you.

The demon ran his claw across your bottom lip, admiring the red. Alastor took his time memorizing the shape of your lips, the pooling of your silver hair, and the flash of yellow in your eyes as the green from the fireflies danced around you. He memorized you as if it was his dying breath, for the demon never thought he'd known Heaven till now and had surely died but just hadn’t realized it yet.

He gladly welcomed the day God died. The thought of anyone making a mark on this skin but him... Alastor instinctively growled at the thought. His hand fell from your mouth to your neck. He pushed the hair aside to appreciate the mark. The bruises had faded thanks to your unnatural gift of healing, but the bite at the base of your neck, that one refused to fade.

Good. Let all of Hell know you were his.

Alastor watched as you unfurled your wings behind you, the black masses stretching to their full width. An Angel... He'd laugh if he wasn't so completely enraptured. Who would have ever thought he, Alastor Hartfelt had fallen completely and totally...

He couldn't say the words. He didn't want to scare you, didn't want you to think him another man in your life obsessed to the point of toxicity. You had a history with one male in particular who told you he lived you and Alastor didn't want to become just another face that haunted you at night. You've endured enough emotional, mental, and physical torture for one immortal lifetime.

So he didn't say what he was thinking. He'd go slow, give you space and time. He didn't want to push for fear of losing you.

After all, it takes one emotionally damaged soul to know another.

Alastor caressed your wings and watched as your mouth parted ever so slightly, your lips forming that wonderful "o" they make when he catches you off guard with a sudden sensation. By Satan, he loved the little noises and faces he could draw from you.

"Where were we?" Alastor purred. He ran both hands up your thighs, bunching the dress as he went.

Tiny blue sparks jumped from your form and into the grass. The Bayou was a wet and humid place, and it would take more than that to ignite it.

"We have no vèvè to protect us out here, mon couer," despite the demon's warning, his fingers continued to climb until they crested your hips.

Alastor shot you a knowing look, mischief glowing in his eyes.

You weren't wearing any underwear.

You smirked at the demon as you leaned forward, your hands going to his hair as you settled against his chest, your wings folded behind you, "Try not to electrocute me."

"Try not to set my Bayou ablaze," the demon purred, relishing in the feel of your fingers in his antlers.

With your eyes half-lidded, you purred, mocking his tone, "As you command, Mr. Alastor."

Alastor pulled you down to him, but he didn't immediately tear into you as you expected. No. He kissed you slowly and deeply, as if savouring the very taste of you on his tongue.

There was something very, very different about this time.

Alastor’s radio clicks on a smooth jazz, his favorite, actually: Nat King Col's "Unforgettable."

Slowly, Alastor's hands traced your silhouette, caressing your hips, the dip in your waist, the shape of your breasts. His hips did not buck, his teeth did not bite, his lips did not bruise. The demon did not give you any of the usual signs that he was hungry, insatiable as he had been for the past few days.

And then it hit you. Alastor was letting you take the lead.

You smiled against his mouth, and took the opportunity you didn't have before to roam his skin. You followed the chiseled edge of his jaw, to the spot just below his earlobe, before nipping it and eliciting an extremely satisfying gasp from Alastor.

You followed down his neck, planting featherlight kisses until you reached his chest. Alastor liked having only the top two buttons undone when he was being more casual, so when your mouth found the third, your fingers undid the buttons as your lips continued south.

When you hit his belly button, you pulled back to admire the sculpted chest before you. With his shirt completely undone, you traced his pecs with your fingers, following the lines of his muscles down his abdomen to the lean six-pack of his torso.

Alastor's face was red with lust, his eyes glassy, his heart beating at a million miles an hour beneath your hand. To think, you had the Radio Demon completely undone, and you hadn't even taken off your clothes.

And you weren't going to let this go to waste.

You pulled off his belt and then undid the button of his pants. Without hesitation, you grabbed Alastor's shaft and pulled his cock free. The demon grits his teeth as his claws dig into the meat of your hips. You stroke, eliciting a growl deep from within his chest.

Oh, no, you were going to savor this moment.

His head swells as you drag your thumb over his slit.

"Fuck," Alastor moans as a few green sparks of static sink into the grass.

You debated using your mouth, but to be honest, you didn't know what to do with it, but your hips? You knew how to use those.

Alastor’s head rolled back at the sight of you tugging your dress above your waist. With one hand firmly wrapped around his cock, you lined your clit up with his shaft and rolled your hips, timing it with the stroke of your hand.

Alastor made a noise halfway between a whimper and a moan that made you roll your hips again.

If you knew all it took to take down the infamous Radio Demon was the roll of your hips, you’d have had this man begging on his knees weeks ago. Oh, there is definitely more than one way to accrue power and you had just found it.

“Beg,” you command, referring to all those times Alastor made you crave him, desperate for him to be inside you, hopeless for release.

The demon’s head shot up as if he didn’t hear you correctly, but you silenced any protest he would have made with another stroke and another grind of your clit into his shaft.

“Fuck,” he groaned again.

“Come on now, Mr. Alastor, where are your manners?” You pouted, drawing his attention to your lips. You licked them, if only to incite more annoyance with your demand.

Alastor growled, showing off his canines like an alpha male ready to pounce, but the demon wasn’t giving in just yet.

So you decided to up the anty.

Scooting back, you leaned down and ran your tongue across the head, lapping up the pre-cum leaking from the top. Alastor gasped, his hands instinctively knotting in your hair.

“Ah, uh, uh,” you tutted, pulling away. You leaned over his belly, stroking his cock as you intentionally brought it closer to your cleavage. Alastor’s eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sight.

You weren’t wearing a bra either and from this angle, Alastor had full view of your cleavage and breasts as you stroked again.

“What will it be, Mr. Alastor?” You kissed his lower belly, following a trail up to his neck before seating yourself atop his waist once more.

You stroked as you sat there, waiting for the demon to find enough sense - and enough air, was he even breathing? - to respond to your demand.

But oh, it was practically killing him to do so. Alastor had never begged for anything in his life.

“Please,” he moaned as you stroked, the demon completely disheveled beneath your. “Please, darling.”

Aww, how cute.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his nose, “Only because you asked nicely.”

You lined him up and gasped as you sank down to the hilt.

“Fuck, Alastor!”

The demon shot up and captured your moans with his mouth, his one hand helping to guide your hips as you slowly lifted up and came back down. With his other he palmed your breast and pinched your nipple through the red fabric causing you to yelp. Alastor continued to let you take the lead, his actions but mere assistance as you bounced up and down on his cock.

Using his antlers as leverage, you opted for hard rather than fast - knowing that’s how Alastor liked it. And with every bounce of your hips, the demon grew thicker and thicker inside you.

Alastor’s groans turned into full on moans, the most vocal you had ever heard the demon. And as your walls twitched, your climax building, you felt Alastor growing closer and closer to his own.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to last much longer, darling,” Alastor breathed.

“Good,” you smiled against his mouth. “I want you to cum.”

“Fuck,” the demon moaned.

“Cum in me Alastor,” you demanded, your hips moving faster and faster.

Alastor grabbed your hips then, his claws sinking into your flesh as he slams you down onto him harm. Sheathed to the hilt, his head bruising your cervix as he spilled inside of you with a low guttural grunt.

It was enough to send you into your own orgasm, your own personal high as the demon spilled inside of you.

You breathed heavily as your body rode the tingling aftershocks. Collapsing into Alastor, your head rested on his shoulder as the two of you sat there surrounded in a sea of green stars, your wings limp behind you.

It wouldn’t become apparent to you then, but about ten feet in every direction, with the two of you at the center, was a circle of scorched earth. You hadn’t burned down the Bayou but you had lit it on fire at some point.

And yet, the two of you did no harm to each other.

“Mon couer,” Alastor cooed as he ran a hand through your hair. “My heart,” he whispered. “Mine.”

The two of you sat there for a long moment, just drinking each other in, before continuing on with a long night of drinking, eating, laughing, and genuinely just being happy for the first time in your lives. You talked of jazz and radio, of Heaven and your life on the run with Eve. You talked of everything and nothing. You talked well past the point of exhaustion, never wanting the night to end.

And you savored every moment of it, for you had gotten good at recognizing the good times when you were in them, but knew they always had to come to an end eventually…

Awww, so cute. What could go wrong? *cough* foreshadowing *cough*

Possible alternate endings???? I'm indecisive AF

-> Chapter Seventeen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

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