#I could not allow myself to cut the “oh” from “oh alastor...” it's just that fruity.

[onesidedradiostatic]

vox saying alastor

that's it that's the post

[vipetas]

hide and seek

Heart racing, you gently eased the closet door shut, nestling yourself deeper inside of it. With a hand pressed over your mouth to stifle your breaths, you strained to hear any approaching footsteps.

Silence enveloped the room, and you allowed yourself to breathe a soft sigh of relief. This was a good hiding spot, you thought to yourself. Surely, he’ll never find–

“Oh, darling! Where are you?”

Your hand instinctively shot back to cover your mouth. Shit, how did he know to look for you in this room?

You held your breath, listening intently. Before long, you heard it: the slow, deliberate approach of footsteps. Each one seemed to echo the pounding of your heart as you braced yourself for the closet doors to be flung open.

Yet, it never happened. Instead, three soft knocks on the closet's doors signaled his presence on the other side. You pressed farther back into the closet, trying desperately to remain unnoticed, but it was too late.

“There you are!” Alastor's voice rang out as he swung open both doors. As light flooded into the cramped space, you met his gaze, a mix of annoyance and amusement crossing your features

“Alastor!” you scolded in a hushed tone, careful not to attract further attention. “You cheater, how did you find me?”

With a chuckle, the Radio Demon grinned wider as he leaned against the door frame.

“Why, darling, I simply followed the sound of your beating heart. It led me right to you. Quite the delightful melody, if I do say so myself.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed any irritation you might've felt. “Alright, Romeo, fair enough,” you quipped as you stood up, brushing off your clothes.

Alastor responded with a playful wink, extending his hand towards you as an offer to help you out of the closet. You accepted, feeling a subtle thrill course through you as your fingers intertwined. It was a sensation that had become familiar, one that never failed to stir something within you. Just as you were about to comment on it, the moment was abruptly cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.

In an instant, Alastor swiftly pushed you back into the closet, joining you inside before you could even react.

The confined space of the closet felt even smaller with both of you squeezed inside, pressed close together to accommodate for the lack of room. In the dim light, your gaze met Alastor's, and he placed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to remain quiet. You nodded, your heart fluttering ever so slightly not just from the fear of being discovered but also from his proximity.

Still, you waited, holding your breath. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, but after a moment, you heard someone gingerly enter the room. It wasn't unexpected, but what caught you off guard was the sudden voice that shattered the stillness.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” Charlie called out, her tone carrying a playful curiosity.

Alastor, ever perceptive, sensed the gasp rising in your throat. With a swift movement, his hands slid to your sides, pulling you even closer to him. His lips hovered just inches away from yours, barely brushing against them as he whispered, “Stay calm, my dear.”

For a moment, you forgot about the game, about the risk of being caught. As Charlie's voice lingered in the air, Alastor's grip on you tightened subtly, sending a delightful cascade of shivers down your spine. The way he held your gaze was both unnerving and intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting as his fingers began tracing the curve of your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.

In turn, your own hands sought solace in the fabric of his suit, fingers curling around the material. As you leaned into his embrace, you purposefully brushed your lips against his again in an almost kiss, and a low, deep hum rumbled from within Alastor’s chest.

You could feel his frustration, palpable even with the scant distance separating you. It was a gap neither of you could ensure for a moment longer.

But reality came crashing back down as Charlie’s voice pierced through the silence again.

“Hello! I know somebody’s in here!” She said, her presence looming larger as she continued to search the room. Her movements became increasingly frantic as she searched behind curtains and under the bed, leaving you with the unsettling certainty that the closet would be her next target.

Glancing back at Alastor, you were somewhat surprised to find his gaze still fixed solely on you, seemingly unconcerned with Charlie's search outside. His hands suddenly left your sides, and you found yourself missing his touch. But before you could dwell on the absence for long, they found a new resting place, cradling the back of your head with a possessiveness that both startled and thrilled you.

Without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that bordered on primal. It was a stark departure from his usual gentleness, leaving you momentarily bewildered by the sudden intensity. Yet as the kiss deepened, any thoughts of protest were quickly swept away by the overwhelming heat rising between you.

Eagerly, you opened your mouth for him, craving the sensation of his claim, and claim you he did. Pulling your hair back as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue brushed against yours, sending waves of pleasure that shot through your veins, setting every nerve ablaze with desire. Lost in the dizzying sensation, your body acted on its own accord as it arched into his touch, your bodies melding together seamlessly. Each curve and contour fit together perfectly, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

As the moment's intensity threatened to peak, you suddenly heard the soft creak of the outside door opening. Your heart lurched in your chest, and you instinctively pulled away from Alastor, eyes wide as you fixated on the crack of the closet door, where a sliver of light seeped through.

Alastor, however, remained unperturbed. His lips trailed kisses across your jaw, his hands returning to your sides with a firm grip that pooled your insides with warmth. Despite the interruption, you found yourself melting into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck as you surrendered to his desires, even as a part of your mind remained on high alert.

“Hey, did you find anyone?” Vaggie’s voice rang out.

The sound of her footsteps drew closer, accompanied by Charlie's response. “No luck yet, Vaggie. But I'm sure they're hiding somewhere around here.”

“Did you check the closet?”

The innocent question sliced through the air like a blade, catching you off guard. Every fiber of your being urged you to break away from Alastor, to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand. But as you struggled to gather your thoughts, Alastor's lips crashed against yours once more, effectively drowning out your protests.

“Alastor,” you whispered urgently against his mouth, your attempts to push him away met with stubborn resistance. Despite your efforts, he remained as sturdy as a brick wall, his fervent kiss consuming you with an intensity that left you powerless to resist.

“I didn’t!” Charlie gasped, and in the next instant, the unmistakable sound of their approach shattered any remaining pleasure you felt. Desperation flooded through you as you attempted to push Alastor away once more, but he only seemed to draw impossibly nearer, enveloping you in an almost suffocating embrace as his tongue boldly invited itself into your mouth.

This is it, you thought. You’d never hear the end of being caught in such an embarrassing situation. You could already feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you struggled between surrendering to Alastor’s intoxicating taste and preserving your dignity.

Bracing yourself for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

However, embarrassment never came. Instead, you felt a sudden shift, like being caught in a whirlwind of energy. Colors blurred and twisted around you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if your very essence was being pulled apart at the seams. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation ceased, and you found yourself standing in Alastor’s radio tower, his hands still resting upon you.

“You're such a cheater!” You playfully scolded, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge with your hand.

“Cheater? Me?” Alastor replied with mock innocence, his grin widening as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I merely... bent the rules to my advantage.”

With a shake of your head, you chuckled softly, finding it impossible to stay upset with him for too long. “Well, you certainly have a knack for bending them,” you commented with a smile.

“Would you prefer that I bend you?”

Alastor's remark sent your heart racing, your cheeks warming at the implication. Emboldened by the rush of adrenaline, you closed the distance between you, your fingertips lightly grazing his cheeks as you brought your lips tantalizingly close to his.

“Maybe I would,” you replied, the words barely a whisper. Alastor chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as his hand slipped to the small of your back.

“Well then, my dear,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Let's see just how much you can handle.”

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Taking Care - Part Three - human!Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to Part One | Part Two. Edit: Sorry if some people have not been tagged in this. I had a problem with managing my taglists and I really hope everything is ok now. Words: ~3700 TW: violence, sexual assault, swearing

You were forced to work as a prep cook for the following week, finding yourself peeling potatoes and chopping onions for the entire day. On one hand, you were glad that you didn't get to see Francis again, but on the other, your bruised and cut fingers weren't so happy about the new position you found yourself in.

"(Y/n)!" you heard your colleague, Marie, whispering to you as she peeked inside the kitchen. "Someone's looking for you."

"Tell Francis I am not allowed to leave the kitchen," you said bluntly, rolling your eyes.

"It's not Francis," Marie said, crossing her arms. "It's Alastor Hartfelt! Don't tell me you're gonna turn him down."

"What?" you said, your cheeks getting slightly flushed as you heard it. "He wants to see me?"

"Yes! He said he wants you to serve him." you smiled slightly as you heard her, but you quickly turned away.

"I can't."

"What?! Why?"

"If Morrison finds out I am serving clients instead of chopping onions he's gonna cut my pay," you explained, knowing that your boss kept an eye on you since the glass incident.

"Morrison left to see his side girlfriend. He's gonna be away for a while." Marie approached you. "Come on! It's just one serving. It will take you five minutes. Out of all men, you can't be a bitch to him too!"

You scoffed. "And why would that be?"

"Because he is the Alastor Hartfelt?" you chuckled at her reason, putting on your waitress apron.

"Fine. I'll take his order and that's it. Ok?" Marie nodded and walked in front of you to make sure Morrison was not around. She nodded and you exited right after, looking around the diner.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Alastor, looking through some book, a soft smile on his face. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly made your way to his table. His eyes met yours, the smile on his face subtly widening and you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Why, hello there, my dear." He greeted, setting the book down in his lap.

“Good evening, Alastor!” you say, clearing your throat. “I heard you were a bit demanding with Marie.” You smiled, trying to mask the flutter of nervousness in your stomach.

Alastor chuckled softly. “My apologies for that, my dear. I can be quite demanding at times.” He stood up and gently placed a kiss on your wrist, just as he had done when you first met. You looked down, a smile tugging at your lips as you tried to hide your flushed cheeks. His gaze, however, remained fixed on you, scrutinizing every subtle movement.

"I'm sorry for last night... Hope you managed to get the stain out," you said.

"Oh, don't worry about that dear. I managed to remove the stain just fine." He smiled, taking a seat back on his chair, his eyes still fixed on your face. "But I do wish to finally try that pie my friend talked about yesterday."

"And a black coffee?" you asked, remembering about his order.

"Exactly." He confirmed, resting his chin on his hand. "You have quite a good memory, my dear." You chuckled at his compliment.

"Is Francis coming too?" you asked, thinking he was just late to their meeting.

Alastor shook his head, his smile turning into an amused smirk. "No, today I'm here all by myself. Are you disappointed?"

"I couldn't have been happier," you mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear you, knowing that it would be rude to talk this way about his friend. But the truth was that you were relieved that the asshole wasn't here tonight, especially after the events from last night.

Alastor chuckled again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he heard your muttering. "Did you say something, dear?" he teased.

"Who? Me? Nothing at all." you laughed.

Alastor smirked, leaning back in his chair, watching you attentively. "Is that so? Because it sounded like you muttered something about being glad I came alone."

"I said I'm glad I only have one pie to bring." you walked away, your cheeks still red from the encounter. You entered the kitchen and started to prepare the coffee. The door opened, making you jump slightly, hoping it was not Morrison.

"You are such a bad friend!" Marie said to you, her arms full of dishes. "When did you meet him?!"

"Yesterday," you explained.

"And you didn't think to tell me?!"

"I was on shift with Lana. It actually scares me no one found out to be honest." you joked, knowing how much Lana liked to tell people about everything that happened at the diner. "Any sign of Morrison?" you asked, placing the coffee and the pie on a tray.

"Nope. Be careful not to fall." she teased, as you walked past her.

You returned to Alastor's table, making sure you didn't drop anything. Alastor smiled up at you as you placed his order in front of him, his eyes sparkling curiously. "Thank you, my dear," he said, looking down at the steaming pie and coffee.

"You know my boss would kill me if he saw me, right? I'm not supposed to serve tonight... or this week."

Alastor chuckled, his smile widening. "Oh, I don't doubt it, darling. But sometimes it's nice to break the rules a bit, don't you think?"

He took a bite of the pie, his face lighting up with pleasure. "Mmmm, delightful, my dear! A bit too sweet for my taste, but not a bad choice at all." he exclaimed, his eyes flickering back up to you.

You chuckled. "The diner down the street has an even better one, trust me." you joked. "Now, if there's no other problem, I have to return to the kitchen."

Alastor held up a hand to stop you, his smile never fading. "Actually, my dear, there is something I wish to talk with you about," he said, tilting his head slightly.

You quickly looked at Marie, who signalled to you that Morrison was still out of sight. "Ok, I have a few minutes."

Alastor smiled a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Wonderful," he said. "One of my good friends has a party this Saturday night and I was hoping you could join me," he said. "If... it's not too bold of me, of course."

You got flustered at his invitation, fidgeting with your fingers. "Alastor… I… I am not really allowed to… have conversations like these with my customers." you said, looking at the ground.

"Oh, my dear, don't worry. I won't get you into trouble. I know how to be discreet." he reassured you, resting his chin on his hand and studying you.

"I'm sorry, Alastor... That just won't do."

Alastor's smile faltered for a moment, but it quickly returned. "Well, I respect your decision, my dear," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I must admit, I thought you would say yes."

You faked a smile. "Please, refer to Marie if you have any problem for the night. My boss could return and it would really bring me a lot of trouble," you said, stepping away from the table.

Alastor nodded in understanding. "Of course, my dear. Don't want to get you into any more trouble than I already did," he said. "It was lovely to see you tonight, even if it was just for a short while."

You quickly made your way to the kitchen, closely followed by Marie who almost got hit by the door once you entered.

"(Y/n), wait! What happened?" she asked.

"He invited me to some kind of pompous party," you explained, changing your apron.

"That's... kind of straightforward, yes. But maybe he thinks since he is so well known that..."

"What?" you cut her off. "That I'll just sleep with him after seeing him just once?"

"Maybe it's not what he meant..."

"Marie... why would someone like him want to take someone like me to a fancy party? Besides, it wouldn't be safe with all these murders going on lately."

"Yeah, you're right I guess... About the murders thing, I mean," she explained. "Perhaps he actually wants to get to know you but... maybe he's not used to courting anymore. Maybe he got used to girls agreeing with him about everything he says." She got closer to you, pressing her arm on your shoulder. "Wait a few days. See how things turn out. If you feel like giving him a chance, do so. That's how I met my Jackson after all."

You smiled thinking about her and her husband. Jackson really turned out to be lovely, different from many men, and maybe she was right. Maybe Alastor was the same, but you had to wait. The men you met weren't exactly the best examples of good people, but that didn't mean all of them were like that.

The following nights passed quietly, with no one calling you out of the kitchen. Yet, you knew he had come. The urge to sneak a glance into the diner was too strong to resist, curious to see if he would still show up after your rejection. And he did. But he never asked about you, leaving you uncertain about what to think.

Perhaps he had found another waitress to invite to that party, or maybe he wasn’t interested at all. You tried to convince yourself it was for the best, pushing the incident to the back of your mind. Instead, you focused on doing your job well, hoping Morrison might notice and either give you a raise or allow you to serve again.

Late that Friday night, you were the last to leave the diner. Morrison had asked you to complete the inventory before locking up. After a final check to ensure everything was in order, you stepped outside and locked the door. But just as you turned to leave, you felt strong hands shove you roughly against the glass. Startled, you recognized the man—he was a regular who made the girls uneasy, so much so that Morrison had thrown him out on more than one occasion when he got too handsy.

"Hello, sweetheart," he sneered, his face uncomfortably close to yours. Your heart pounded wildly as you tried to scream, but fear choked your voice. Trembling, you struggled, but his grip only tightened. "Did that bastard leave you alone tonight? Doesn’t he know bad things could happen to you?" he taunted.

His hand slid under your skirt, gripping your thigh harshly and moving higher.

"Stop! Please!" you begged, only to be met with a sharp slap that sent a burning pain across your cheek.

"Shut up! You’re going to take everything I give you."

He pressed his hand against you, the pain intensifying as he rubbed. Tears blurred your vision, and just as despair threatened to overwhelm you, there was a sudden loud bang. The man’s grip on your wrists vanished, and you fell to the cold concrete.

His cries of pain filled the air as you looked up, dazed. There he was—Alastor—his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes filled with concern as he gently touched your bruised cheek.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked softly, his voice calm and soothing. You nodded, and he helped you to your feet. The man was still writhing on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on his head, a large brick lying nearby. "Wait in my car, dear. There's a phone down the street. I need to call the police to report this, alright?" You nodded again, and he guided you to his car, opening the door and locking it behind you, giving you a much-needed sense of safety.

You stood there for about an hour, watching Alastor talk to different officers and that man being taken into custody. As policemen left one by one, Alastor made his way to the car, getting into the driving seat, his eyes scanning over your bruised face. He sighed, a mix of anger and concern on his face. His fingers gripped your chin, making sure there weren't any other bruises. "I've always believed a man's hands should be used at work... not for bruising women..."

"What were you doing here?" you whispered, your gaze still lowered to the floor.

"I came to see you, dear. Marie told me you're working late tonight," He reached out for your hand, taking it into his. "It kills me to see you with a single bruise on you, darling," he added, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"I don't know how to thank you, Alastor... If you wouldn't have showed up..." you said, breaking down into crying again just thinking about what could've happened.

Alastor's expression softened at the sight of your crying, and he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. "Shhh... Don't mention it, darling," he said, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You sobbed, bringing your arm to your swollen cheek, the pain less noticeable but still there. He pulled away, starting the engine. "Where do you live?"

"3023 Annunciation Street," you murmured, and Alastor nodded before driving off. The ride was brief, just ten minutes from your workplace.

When you arrived, Alastor stepped out and opened the door for you. "I can take it from here, Alastor," you said, trying to sound firm. But he frowned, clearly not happy with your dismissal.

"Don't be ridiculous, my dear. I'll walk you to your door," he insisted, offering his arm as he helped you out of the car. With a gentle yet steady grip around your waist, he guided you to your doorstep. Once there, he leaned casually against the wall, his eyes softening as they landed on your bruised cheek. "Do you have any medical supplies?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Don't worry. This ain't my first rodeo..." You tried to force a smile but winced at the pain in your cheek.

"I don't care if it's your 'first rodeo' or your hundredth one, my dear, you are injured and I won't let you just brush it off," he stated, his grip on you tightening. You placed an arm on his chest, reassuringly.

"I'm fine, Alastor," you said, your voice firm. "It's nothing some ice and rest can't solve."

Alastor looked at you for a moment, his eyes flickering between your bruised face and your hand on his chest. He eventually sighed, his gaze softening. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he said, a hint of amused smile on his lips.

"Unfortunately..." you smiled.

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. "Unfortunate indeed," he mumbled, leaning closer to you. "But I guess I admire your determination," he added, his hand cupping your uninjured cheek. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, alright darling? Ice and rest just like you said."

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his touch, so gentle against the skin. "I will," you promised. "Hope you have fun at the party tomorrow."

"I think attending without you will suck the fun out of it." he chuckled, making you blush.

"I really doubt it would be good for your reputation to show up with a freshly beaten-up woman by your side, don't you think?" you joked, a hint of regret in your eyes.

Alastor's smile faded at your words, his expression becoming serious. "My reputation is the last thing I'm concerned about right now, my dear," he said, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting it up slightly. "And I would take you with me in whatever state you are."

You thought for a moment, looking away from his burning gaze. "Is... the invitation still open then?"

A wide grin appeared on Alastor's face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It always has been, my dear," he said, gently tucking a strand behind your ear.

"When should I be ready then?"

"The party will start at eight in the evening," he said. "I'll come to pick you up at seven-thirty."

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Alastor nodded, his hand lingering on your hair for a moment before he pulled away. "Rest well, my dear," he said, his gaze still fixed on you as he took a few steps back towards his car.

Francis woke up in an abandoned warehouse, his vision blurred as the whole room spun around him. He tried to move, only to realise he was tied up to a chair, a sense of panic washing over him. He tried to scream, but the tape over his mouth stopped him.

The warehouse was bathed in a dim, sickly light that seeped through the grimy windows high up on the walls. The air was thick with the stench of mould and decay, making each breath feel heavy and suffocating.

Alastor stepped from the shadows, a menacing aura surrounding him. He approached Francis slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the empty building. He stopped in front of the tied-up man, his eyes scanning him up and down.

Francis became more distressed, trying to call for help, but to no avail.

Alastor smirked, amused by his attempts. "Save your breath, my friend," he said, his voice low and calm. "No one will hear your cries in here." he circled the man, toying with a knife in his hand. "I have to admit... you passed out so many times I thought you wouldn't wake up anymore."

Alastor stopped behind Francis, his knife still flipping between his slender fingers. "But you did, didn't you? I guess you have some fight in you, after all. Entertaining, really." he said, pressing the sharp tip of the knife against the man's shoulder.

With a quick move, he cut through the skin, earning a cry of pain from him. "Let me tell you about my day, my dear friend..." he pulled back, facing the man again. "I managed to convince that sweet waitress, (y/n), to come to Mimzy's party with me tomorrow... Isn't this delightful?"

The man struggled in his chair, his eyes wide and panicked. "Oh, yes. She had captivated me more than I'd like to admit," he said, his voice almost dreamy. "Now I'm honestly thinking what to do... She would find out eventually about all of the things I've done so... What do you say?" he asked, the man looking up at him with teary eyes. "Should I tell her tomorrow myself... or just wait and see how much it takes for her to find out alone?"

The man's panicked expression turned even more desperate, his eyes pleading. Alastor chuckled, enjoying the terror in his prisoner's eyes. "Oh, the second one sounds like a much more fun game, don't you think?" he taunted, leaning down so his face was closer to the man's.

"Now what should I do if she does find out and wants to turn me in: hide or kill her before she says anything?" Alastor hummed, pretending to think about the question. "I do think the first option is the most logical... No one would believe her word over mine anyway..." he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Killing her would bring undesired attention... however..." he added, his eyes narrowing. "If the time called for it, I might have to consider the second. What do you think?" he asked, ripping the band off the man's mouth. "What would you do?"

"You..." the man said in between sobs. "You're sick!"

Alastor shrugged his smile still in place. "Sick? Maybe," he admitted, running the tip of the knife over the man's cheek. "But, my friend, you're the one tied up on a chair in an abandoned warehouse." he laughed. "You know she's so lovely around me... Not scared and intimidated like she was with you. I guess you were the problem after all..."

"You think she'll accept you? That she'll accept the monster that you are?"

Alastor’s smile flickered for a moment before returning, his grip on the knife tightening with a renewed intensity. “Oh, my dear friend… I may be a monster, but she sees something else in me. She might not know my darker side yet, but she will. Eventually, she’ll understand when I reveal how I deal with pests like you… She might even appreciate it.”

"You'll end up in prison... She's smart, she'll figure something out! You'll see!"

Alastor laughed at the man's words, his eyes cold and dangerous. "So now she's not just a dumb waitress anymore, right? Just like you used to believe a few days ago? Now she's gonna be your saviour..." Alastor mocked. "She doesn't give a fuck about you, Francine! No one does, really."

"The police will find me... Let me go and I won't say a word, Alastor. Please!" the man begged.

Alastor let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with malice. "Oh, Francine... You really think I'll let you go just like that?" he taunted, his voice low and dangerous. "I can't risk having you spoil my little game. Besides..." He gestured to the abandoned warehouse. "You really think anyone is looking for you?"

"Of... Of course, they are!"

Alastor laughed again, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. "Oh, you really think so? Do you really think anyone cares about your disappearance? They probably think you ran away with some woman and will eventually return in a month or so... like you always do. In fact, (y/n) seemed happy you're not around anymore."

"They... They will find me... I know it!"

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. "Denial, my friend. Such a beautiful thing," he said, his tone mocking. "But let me assure you, Francine, no one is looking for you. No one even cares enough to notice you're gone."

Alastor chuckled a bit.

"It's just you and me and the fun has just begun..."

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @starryhiraeth @lafy-taffy @harmfulb1tch @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @venusdandy

[killer-nightmare0]

Part 2 enjoy little nightmares!

Lucifer looked at Charlie before continuing to stare down alastor. "What's wrong with the little dove?" He asked Charlie eyes not leaving where you were sitting except for the occasional flicker to make sure alastor hadn't moved to go after you. Charlie looks confused but then realizes who he is referring to. "OH y/n? They just are extremely shy I would have thought you would know that by now dad. You've seen them around the hotel before." Lucifer hums in acknowledgement, but he can't help but think there is more to you than just being shy. He took his eyes off your seat and alastor for a split second only to realize alastor was missing. He frantically looks around the foyer for any sign of him only for him to appear right before his very face. "Why hello lucifer what brings you to the hotel this afternoon?" Alastor grumbles out frustrated that he came in ruining his chance to find out who was on his doe's mind. Lucifer looks directly at alastor attempting to not start a fight for Charlie's sake. "Do I need a reason to vist MY daughter?" Lucifer putting a heavy emphasis on the word my. Alastor just continued to look down on the 6ft tall king of hell with his signature smile feigning ignorance. He saw lucifer looking at HIS doe earlier and he won't allow it. Wait no your not his he doesn't realize why he thinks such things. Maybe it's just due to him wanting your soul. Yeah. That's what he'll chalk it up to. "No you don't obviously, you just normally don't come over unannounced/uninvited". Now it was Charlie's turn to stare in disbelief. Alastor had just insulted lucifer her father to his face telling him he was essentially unwelcome In her hotel. The nerve. Before she could say anything she was cut off by lucifer himself. " I need no invitation to visit MY daughter you tacky radio host. Not that the reasoning for my vist matters however I will enlighten you. I wanted to see how the little dove has been settling in. Making sure they aren't causing my dear daughter any trouble." Charlie awed at her dad being so kind although part of it was a lie. But he was the sin of pride itself, the king of hell there was no way he would just come out and say that he was interested in meeting them. Alastor rolled his eyes before speaking. "The little doe is doing just fine." He said straining through his teeth. He kept his smile per usual however he wasn't going to just let someone walk over him regardless of who he is. "Well seeing as the reason for your visit had been remedied I guess you'll be off." He began to push lucifer towards the door hopefully so he would leave and he could go and see how the doe was doing. However before alastor could get lucifer out of the door the small 6ft man in front of him decided to turn into a snake and slither back into the foyer. Looking alastor dead in his face he as he began to speak. "How am I to take your word for it I need to meet the dove myself. After all I should know all of my subjects shouldn't i?" He looks at alastor thinking he corned him but alastor had another thing up his sleeve. "Well if you wish to know all of your subjects why not start with the vee's I'm sure they would be oh so great full for a vist from the king himself." Alastor smirked to himself he would kill 2 birds with one stone. Get lucifer off his back and give the vee's trouble. What more could the man ask for. Until lucifer opened his mouth once more. "I do unfortunately know of the vee's already however the little dove is staying with my daughter and I need to make sure she will be safe." A smug grin crossed his face as he knew alastor had been bested this time. Alastor sighed "oh well I guess it can't be helped then why don't you have a seat and I'll send angel up to retrieve the darling doe." Alastor sends a look to angel telling him to go. Angel rolled his eyes and flips alastor off as he climbed the banister in order to reach your room. While angel went to go get you lucifer and alastor sat in the foye awaiting the arrival of the "little doe/little dove"

TBC

[nkirukaj]

Our Renaissance

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem! OC (Human!Voe)

Warnings: Swearing; 1920s Slang

Genre: Slight Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 1.8K

Voe and Alastor are lying on the grass in the bayou of the latter’s room, staring at the man-made stars above. Voe sighs and smiles warmly, Alastor’s eyes dart towards her.

“What is on your mind, my dear?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s just my silly brain wandering”

“Do tell, I love to hear what your mind can do.” He leans on his arm and stares down at her with a smirk

She rolls her eyes “I was just staring at these stars and wondering if this is what real stars in New Orleans look like.”

Alastor tsks “Oh no, absolutely not. I couldn’t capture the beauty of the Louisiana night sky no matter how hard I tried.”

She looks up at him “I figured. But then, after I thought about how I’d never been there, and thought about what it would have been like if I had ever gone to New Orleans. Then I wondered what it would have been like if we’d met each other when we were alive.”

“We are from two different periods my dear, that would not be possible.”

“I know, but I just wonder, what if we weren’t? Like, what if I was around in the 20s while you were still in your prime? I wonder how you looked then.” She reaches up and caresses his face

Alastor grins at his partner “Oh I was quite the lady killer.” He said, his tone full of arrogance 

“In more ways than one,” Voe offered, and they both laughed to their heart’s content.

______________________________

The year is 1919.

“Alastor!”

The hunting grounds he had become so familiar with were just the right distance from his home. Far enough that no one would think of him here, and close enough that he could always hear his mother’s call. Alastor decided there was enough dirt over the hole and started returning. He left the shovel out back and entered the house, anxious to know what it was his mother needed. He entered through the back way, pretending he was there the entire time. He entered the kitchen, his mother’s back to him

“Alastor! Alas- Oh! There you are!” She caresses her son’s face “Please try to come when I first call you alright? I get worried,”

“Of course Maman,” he gives her a tiny smile

She turns her back to him and he walks around to face him “I just wanted to tell ya that I’ll be out ’til dark so please don’t wait up for me. Mr. and Mrs. Hebert want a whole lotta suits and dresses for the entire family tonight. Cook yourself some dinner and please finish that yardwork today, Mr. Doucet wants them delivered first thing in the morning.”

He nods, leaning on the table “Which flowers did his wife order again?”

“The lobelias,” she answers while slipping on a jacket “But only the white ones,” she pulls her purse over her shoulder “Have them cut, trimmed, and potted before I get home because I know you’ll forget if you don’t and it would be really helpful if I didn’t have to do it myself, okay?” She kisses his forehead

“Okay,” 

“Have a good night sweetheart! Be safe!” and out the door she was

Alastor looks through the kitchen cabinets to see what he would be able to cook for himself as well as for his mother to eat when she got home. Perhaps he could treat her to a dessert as well? If he could find the right ingredients. His mother was a huge fan of Bananas Foster, but never splurged on ice cream for herself. Alastor cut up meat and vegetables as he thought of all the tips he had been collecting from the deliveries he’d made with the intent of using them to buy something special for his mother. Nothing big, since he knew she wouldn’t ever allow him to spend that much money on her, but maybe some ice cream just to make her favorite dessert. As he mixed the chopped foods and let them cook on the stove, he retrieved the tips from under his clothes in his drawer. 

A carton of ice cream was 20¢ and when he went to count the coins he’d collected, he came up with only 10. He could go and buy his mother a banana split, but he wanted to make this gift with his own hands. The anger made him warm inside, the heat rising from his fingers and spreading throughout his body, all the way to the top of his head and the tips of his toes. He spins around and flings the useless change around his tiny bedroom, hearing the coins clatter on the floor. Leaning on his dresser, the scent of burned food hits his nose and he looks up in shock and worry.

His fear is recognized when he gets back down the stairs, the food he had so carefully prepared had burned on the stove, which meant that neither he nor his mother would be eating tonight, seeing as they would be getting paid tomorrow morning and only then would they be able to buy more groceries. Alastor angrily throws out the burned dinner and slams himself down in one of the kitchen chairs dramatically, hearing the wood creak. He held his head in his hands, silently waiting for the stove to cool down. Was it so wrong to want the luxuries that he so often saw people like the ones they sold to take for granted?

Alastor enjoyed potting plants, he’d roll up his sleeves and get caught up in the dirt, which may have been why he was so good at digging holes. It helped that he took an interest in the flowers they grew. Lobelias, Magnolias, Irises, Azaleas and much more. It may not have seemed like the most ‘manly’ way to spend one’s time but his mother took her time to teach him, so Alastor couldn’t care less. Getting covered in the dirt made him feel like he was doing something like he was earning his way. 

20 white lobelias cut, trimmed, and potted, ready to be delivered. Alastor wiped the sweat off of his forehead, some of the dirt on his forearm wiping onto his face. He stood to look at his work before bending to pick them up and carry them inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a young lady in the street. She’s bent over, picking up a pocket watch. When she stands she continues examining the watch, a trolley approaching her fast. He didn’t know if she was deaf or dumb but she wasn’t moving. It’s as if she had no idea that vehicles drove on the road, Alastor looks back and forth between the woman and the flowers. he rushes toward her.

He launched forward, grabbing her wrist, yanking her out of the street, and holding her waist to keep her stable. Her hat had fallen over her face, but he could still see the plump lips under it.

“What were you thinking?”

She breathes out through her mouth “Who are you, my father?”

“I believe thanks are in order,” 

She tilts her head up “I suppose they are,” her voice smooth and soft “Thank you,” she says, clear that she didn’t want to

He lets go of her waist, letting her hands free to readjust herself. Alastor clears his throat, looking down at the girl’s expensive and neat clothes.

“Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you.” His breath was stolen as he gazed at the girl before him “Quite a pleasure.” he sticks his hand out

“Vera,” she responded, lifting her hat with her other hand while looking upwards at the man who saved her “Vera Bates.” she takes and shakes it. She looks down, seeing dirt spots on her arms and dress, she does her best to dust them off.

“What brings you to this area, bunny?” Alastor questions

She continues dusting herself off “How do you know I’m not from here?”

Alastor crosses his arms “To pale kreyol?” he raises his eyebrow smirking

“What?”

“Exactly,”

She scoffs “You did not know that when you forcibly yanked me out of the street,” she huffs

“Well, now I do,”

She rolls her eyes “If we all stuck to English, I could fit in,”

“That’s a load of applesauce,” he rolls his eyes

“Why?” She looks somewhat offended

“Look at how you’re dressed, does that look like you belong here?” he pulls on her sleeve “Around here we ain’t afraid to get dirty,”

Vera crosses her arms “Fine, I’m visiting with my family and I might have wandered a bit, are you happy?”

Alastor looks the girl up and down, his tongue rolling over his teeth “Where you from?”

“New York City,” she puffs out her chest, “The city that never sleeps,”

“And I bet you’re proud of that aren’t you?”

She looks taken aback “Of course I am! New York is so advanced! It has the skyline, Central Park, amazing food, music, and of course…Broadway,” her eyes sparkle “It’s practically the cultural center of the world,”

He scoffs “I beg to differ, we have much better food and music. Plus we got theaters too,”

“But not Broadway,”

“What does it matter?

“I want to be an actress!”

Alastor sniggers at the thought, barely able to contain his amusement

“What on Earth is so funny?”

  “Doll please, everyone knows that radio is the future,”

She tilts her head to the side “Radio?” she scrunches her brows “Well I have nothing against radio, but it has nothing on the stage,”

“The stage is entertaining. But radio is life-changing.”

“You can’t even see people on the radio! The stage can take you to a different world!”

He leans down “So can radio. And being on the radio isn’t a useless pipe dream,” 

“At least there already is someone like me on the movie screens. You think they would let a boy like you on the radio?” Her words are filled with venom, and it’s enough to immediately stop Alastor’s chortling.

“And what exactly is a boy like me?” he leans forward

“You’re weak!” she spits at him “You’re thin, like you haven’t eaten a day in your life, and you hardly sound like a man at all. Nobody wants to hear some little sissy yappin’ on the radio!” she grins as she knows that her hurtful comments have landed

“Says the girl who doesn’t know that cars drive on the road,”

“Oh dry up, ya rag-a-muffin!”

“You’re on my property, dollface! So get a wiggle on! Wearing your glad rags in the middle of the week,”

“These are my regular clothes!” She tosses over her shoulder and storms away from him

“Whatever you say doll,” he calls after her. She flips him the bird as she walks off. He pretends to be offended, “Oooh, rude doll.”

[androgynousblackbox]

How I Met Your Father. 12 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

A03 link

How You Won The Game

"Is the coffee to your liking?" asked Sera, coming back to the table Alastor was sat on with a cup of tea.

She thankfully haven't noticed that he spilled the coffee on a nearby plant, or at least pretended not to notice. Either way it worked just fine for him. No way he was drinking anything she offered him. Who knew if once he tasted something from them, he would be trapped even more than before.

The fact that she had brought him back to the building where he spawned in, to another meeting office looking rom where they were the only ones present, did not inspired him a lot of trust. Here Sera could say or do anything she wanted and there would be no witnesses for it, except him.

"Why I am here, Sera?" Alastor decided to get to the point, keeping up the amicable tone. "Both up here and in front of you."

"Very well" Sera sighed, making appear some sugar cubes that magically landed on her drink. It was just two cubes, not five like Lucifer would have put. She sat down in front of him, taking her time to drink. "For the second part of your question, I would like to hear from you first. What were you doing before you… perished down there?"

"I was defending the hotel for the extermination because my daughter needed me to. Adam cut my neck. I tried to heal myself, but I was too late. Woke up here" explained Alastor easily. "Before that, I had enslaved more than a hundreds souls, killed way too many people I cared to count and consumed the flesh of my fellow sinners happily. Sometimes while they were still alive. As you can imagine, with such a colorful existence, this turned out quite a shock for me."

"Hmm" Sera took a sip of her tea. If she was horrified, disgusted o impacted in any way to hear about his other activities, she didn't show it. She had a true poker face that made it hard to read. "Giving up your life for the sake of a loved one is a very good redeeming quality."

"Oh, I wasn't intending to do that" clarified Alastor. "If anything, I wanted to heal quickly to get back and finish the job with Adam. Now I will have to comfort myself knowing that my husband at least did it for me."

Sera frowned slightly at the mention of Lucifer, but the gesture vanished quickly as it was never there.

"Nevertheless, you did. You gave up your life for the sake of your child. Not all parents would have done the same. You should be proud of that."

"What is this?" asked Alastor with an amused smirk. "If you are trying to convince me that I somehow actually belong here, I am afraid you are wasting your time, dear. I have lived enough in hell to know that is my true place. I knew it even when I was alive too and didn't even believe on it" He sighed, resisting the impulse to see on his watch how much longer had happened since his death. Every moment that he was there, it was another moment that his family thought him lost forever. "If you don't know either how I ended up here, I don't really care at this point. But I think it will be on the best interest of everyone if I just go back where I came from."

"Would you really give up Heaven so easily?" Sera's voice was incredulous, but not actually argumentative, giving him a chance to explain himself. "A lot of humans would love to be in the same position as you are."

"Gladly" Alastor allowed himself a chuckle, supporting his chin over his hands. "They can have it if so they wish, I am willing to trade. One soul enters, another one goes. Everyone wins."

"It doesn't work like that" Sera sighed. Her graceful hands left the cup on the table and locked in front of her, looking serious. "We don't really have a saying on which souls get in or not. That is not our place to determine."

"My little fawn did mentioned that too. That you all don't have the slightest clue what it actually takes to get to Heaven. I was hoping she was exaggerating or embellishing things a bit."

Sera considered his words for a second and moved her head in a yes.

"The only thing that we know for sure now is that you are here. Regardless of whatever choices you made in your previous life, you were deemed worthy to enter this place. I can't do anything else but respect that for what it is, even if I don't understand it either."

Alastor felt a stab on his chest.

"What is that supposed to mean, Sera?" asked, his smile shaking on his face. Sera was the most highest ranking being he had seen on this entire place. If he couldn't get her to understand, then that was another bridge exploding on his face. "I don't want to be here. I want to go back. Would you really retain me here against my will? Is that what Heaven is all about?"

Sera frowned. Her fingers pressed together before she moved her hands to her lap, regaining again her cold beauty. The touch of sadness on her big eyes did not move him at all. In fact, they disgusted him. He didn't need her pity.

"Why?" spat, barely controlling himself. "Why go through the trouble? Just throw me down like a sack of rotten potatoes you don't want infecting your kitchen with maggots and we both can be satisfied today. I am of no use to Heaven and I don't care for it either" Sera didn't even reacted. "My family…"

"They will be fine eventually" cut Sera, her eyes downward. Little it did to make her next words any less cruel. "It will hurt, but they will overcome it someday. They are both immortal so they will have all the time that it exist. You don't have to concern yourself with them anymore."

Alastor stared at her, unable to speak. He had never in his life or death wanted to slap a woman as much as that moment.

"Don't you dare to tell me to forget about my family" warned Alastor, standing up so abruptly that the chair he was on fell to the floor. Neither of them cared for the loud impact. "You have no right. I am Alastor Morningstar. Even your stupid little book recognize me as such."

"Yes, that is true" Sera sighed, her voice just as calm as ever, if not heavier. This wasn't enjoyable for her either, but she would do it anyway. "However, how many people do you think landed here who left their parents, children or partners behind? It's unfortunate, but some families are not meant to stay together."

"Spare me that bullshit" growled Alastor, his hands shaking with pent up energy. "I don't know what kind of order you think you have here, but I want no part on it! Send me back now or I swear for everything you hold holy that I will show you a piece of hell that you will never forget!"

Sera sighed and stand up.

"I will come back once you calm down" were her last words as she floated to the door.

Alastor heard a second later the inconfundible click of a lock.

Two hours passed, after finally the sounds of destruction stopped, Sera came back to knock.

"Alastor. Do you feel any better now?" She waited patiently a few seconds, until the voice of Alastor came through close, right at the other side of the barrier between them.

"Can I at least contact him?" The defeat on his tone disgusted him, but what else could he do? All the windows have remained intact even as he smashed the chairs against them. None of the walls presented a single dent no matter how much he punched them, leaving traces of his own golden blood. Even the marks on his knuckles were gone. "To let him know that I am here. Back on earth they let prisoners to have one final call before they are thrown to their cells."

"I am afraid not. Lucifer has no jurisdiction over mortal souls in Heaven."

Alastor rubbed his face with his hands, pressing his temples.

"Do you realize how silly that is? I have been at his side for decades, almost a century. How much more of a bad influence do you think he is going to be for me for just talking? I understand that you aren't a fan of him, but why do this to Charlie? Why let her believe that her father doesn't exist anymore? What good does that do for anyone?"

"All human souls here have already died, Alastor. Including you. Your old lives are over. Maybe… it could be it's own form of kidness to let them process your absence that way. Then they won't have to worry about how you are doing here or that you aren't part of the same realm anymore."

"That is the single most stupid thing I have ever heard from an angel, and I lived with Lucifer so that is saying something. Do you tell yourself that too when you send your little army to commit genocide each year? That it's kind? That you are doing us a favor?" He couldn't help but to laugh, a humourless sound that tasted bitter on his mouth. "At least when I kill people, I don't pretend it's for their own good. It's always just mine. You should embrace that, dear. This self righteous act you do is so tiresome."

"You are still upset" declared Sera. "I will come back later."

That later was after four hours had already passed and Alastor stopped counting on his watch. At the very least, a day since his second dead had happened already. A day without hearing his family's voice or have any news from them.

If they had won all together, even with the hotel destroyed, they could have gone back to the palace to celebrate. He would have prepared the bull demon meat that he was saving. Charlie would have asked another story and Lucifer would supply, pictures included if needed, while he admired him with a glass of his favorite whiskey.

Charlie could have spend a few days on the palace until they had decided on how the new hotel was going to be, now all of them together. He and Lucifer spending hours arguing over the style of the building as Charlie tried to make concessions the best she could. They could have had their little fawn back with them for a little while and it would have been fun. Not the violent, chaotic, excited and thrilled fun he had during a hunt, but the safe and comforting one that let him breathing in deeply as if for the first time in years.

Was there even going to be a new hotel now? He hoped so. If nothing else, because now that he knew Charlie's dreams of redeeming people could come true, he wanted her to succeed more than ever. That way Heaven could finally get some actual personality and they rub it on the face of those beings that denied Charlie. That would show them.

When he came back home, they were going to make it bigger, better, brighter than ever before. Lucifer was going to need some time to get used to interact with all the residents they were going to bring on the daily, but he would manage to do it and then charm his way into convincing people to stay, probably without even trying to. That is how he convinced him to stay at this side too. Charlie was going to be so happy. Nobody would ever destroy her walls or threaten her dream with the two of them around.

"Alastor?" called Sera.

Alastor stand up from the floor. By now all the furniture had come to their rightful places, completely repaired as if nothing had happened.

"Sera!" responded, pulling up the old charm, as Lucifer would say. "That is exactly the beatiful voice I wanted to hear! How are you doing, dear?"

If Sera was taken aback for his change in demeanor, she didn't show it on her voice.

"I see you are more animated."

"I always are! I do apologize for my previous behavior, though. That was absolutely not the best way to go about any of this. How about we erase that little impulsive moment of mine and start again, see if we can find some kind of solution? We are both reasonable adults here. I am sure we can think of something."

"A solution to you being send to Heaven?"

"Indeed, that one" Alastor walked to the door, keeping an eye on the knub just in case it moved at all. "What do you want, Sera? Whatever that it is, I will find the way to do it. I have quite a reputation for always delivering my part of the bargain. You can ask anyone down in the pride ring! Just name your price and is yours. In exchange, I get something I want. Easy, right?"

"What you want is not something for me to give, Alastor. I don't have the kind of power that can just break the rules for one soul."

"I understand" Alastor clenched his teeth together. "But what about a little and harmless bending of the rules then? Persephone was allowed 6 months outside of the underworld to return to her mother, but we don't have to be as extreme as that" Alastor was aware of the irony of using pagan myths as his arguments in Heaven. He waited a beat to see if Sera appreciated it too, if not at least a chuckle, but when all he got was silence he continued on. "Perhaps just a couple of days a year? With a few hours I could work with too, if that is easier for you. Nobody would even have to know, my dear. I can be just a normal Heaven resident and also remain in contact with my family. Keeping secrets is nothing new for me, some would say that I am even good at it! I can work in anything you need me to in order to repay such kindness, of course, that goes without saying."

"I am sorry, Alastor. I can't."

Alastor took a deep breath that almost made him dizzy.

"Right" It took him a monumental effort to get that word out. Yelling wasn't going to work. His threats, that usually were so effective, were worthless in this situation without the power of back them up. He had to try another route if he ever wanted to get back home. "I know this isn't personal, Sera. You treated my daughter with basic decency when she was here, even knowing who is her other father or her controversial creation. I did always appreciated that, I hope you know it."

"Of course."

"Which is why I know you are not taking any personal enjoyment out of this. I know a sadist when I see one, my dear, and you don't fit the profile. I am absolutely certain that you are operating right now with nothing but the best possible intentions in mind, isn't that right?"

"Your point, Alastor?"

"My point being… I want your help, Sera. From where you stand, what do you think I should be doing that would lead to the best outcome? Surely you don't plan to keep me lock up in this room for the rest of eternity."

Sera sighed briefly.

"You don't have to do anything. Heaven can provide you with everything you need."

"Except my family" Alastor couldn't help himself to add.

"Unfortunately so. The souls that come here do so to rest and to have a peaceful existance. That is all anyone expects from any of you. If I were on your place, I would try to make the best out of the situation, as distressing as it is."

That was so easy to say when she wasn't in his situation. How could she even imagine? A being that had existed only for Heaven and did everything she could to continue existing? What could she care about the problems of mere mortals? Alastor pressed his head against the door.

"I see" said, clearing his throat. "If I promise to do just that, would you let me go from here? It's becoming quite uncomfortable. I don't like the coffe either" After the three hours, he had succumbed to his own curiosity and tried it. "It never gets as hot as I wanted it to."

God forbid anyone could burn their mouths while drinking, even if that is exactly what they were looking for.

"Sorry to hear that" Her voice could be heard closer and Alastor looked at the knub again. "Are you actually ready to be part of Heaven?"

As if she haven't made abundantly clear by now he had no choice.

"I am ready to try" conceded.

The knub started moving. Alastor took a step back and prepared himself to receive Sera with his best cooperative smile. Same smile that went rigid when instead of Sera two buff winners, a man and a woman, looked at him with equally expecting expressions.

"If what you say is true, then you won't have any issue accompanying us, Alastor" said Sera from the hallway. "Come with us to your new residency without causing any disturbance, please."

The place he was taken to was a large white building that somehow looked even more boring than all other, with less decorative elements, as if they were actually trying to make it the plainest they could. The buff angels at his side relaxed and started stretching casually, as if their job was done. Sera thanked them for making them "company" before wishing them a good night.

Before they had refused any attempt of Alastor to make small conversation, giving short uninterested answers, but now they wish them too a good time before they flied away.

"I don't understand" said Alastor, following Sera as he came inside the building. There was an entrance lobby with a secretary behind a desk. "What is this place?"

His first idea was a hotel. Mostly because it would be ironic to die protecting a hotel only to end up in another on his next life.

"This place was designed to receive new souls who have a harder time than others to adapt to the after life" Sera explained.

"Ah, an asylum! I did always figure I would end up in one eventually if I wasn't killed!" admitted Alastor with a light chuckle. Whatever issues he did had, Heaven was the last place equipped to help him with them. Not that he needed or wanted the help in the first place. "This is wholly unnecesary, Sera, dear. Any common house is going to be just as good for me as any other."

"Normally that would be the case, but for everything I hold holy I believe this could help you out in the long run" She even had the audacity of giving him a knowing smile.

Alastor's smile remained the same. He wanted to tear her face apart with his own teeth. Her blood would taste sour, like the skin of oranges, he was sure of it.

"Oh, please, you are not going to hold that silly little moment of weakness over my head like that, are you? I just got a bit carried away and wasn't thinking my words properly. I didn't mean any of it, obviously!"

"Glad to know" Sera made a gesture towards the crystal doors. "After you."

Alastor looked around on the streets, the calm, peaceful streets where no one was threatening anyone with a weapon or was about to pass out after puking their guts out. He pondered briefly about how far he could run if he started sprinting at that moment, but even as he considered it knew it was useless. Even if Sera didn't immediately catched him, she would have no issue finding him later. Pure angelic powers were such a pain in the ass when they weren't coming from his husband.

With no other choice in sight, Alastor walked to what he knew with no doubt was just going to be another prison like it didn't cost him nothing at all. No matter what, he was soon going to get out and find the way to return to his family.

--

Now he understood what his mother meant with time being handled different in Heaven. They still had clocks, and at least nobody tried to take away his pocket watch, but nobody used dates or had calendaries to know how much time had passed. What was the point where there wasn't any change of seasons, if every day was equally perfect as the day before? If someone wanted to keep track of the passage of time, they had to do it entirely by their own means. Speaking to the staff on the "asylum" (that everyone insisted he shouldn't call like that), he heard that was a option they had to tick on their phones. Since he wasn't about to have one himself, he got instead a notebook to go marking the days that he was stuck there.

One day it took for Emily to come visit him. She apologized for taking so long, but she got so concentrated on her task she actually didn't realize how long it had been since she saw him. By the time she finished reading the entire registries and went searching for him, Sera was looking for her instead and explained the whole situation.

"You threatened her?!" said Emily, lifting her hands, incredulous. "Of course she would be upset at you and put you here!" Alastor rolled his eyes with a shrug. Emily let out some air. "I am sorry. You must have felt cornered to get to that point. I should have been there to help you so you didn't had to face her alone. I know she can be a little… unsympathetic sometimes. I understand how frustrating that is."

That was one massive understatement. He considered telling her about how actually that conversation went, how utterly callous Sera was about how he should feel about his family, but decided against it because it would feel too much like whining. They had better things to discuss.

"Just tell me what you could find out."

"Uh? Oh, right, the thing!" Alastor looked at the ceiling, conjuring patience for himself. Why did all the angels he could actually talk to were the ones who had the worst attention span? First Lucifer, now this. "It was fascinating, actually! I read the ones from before I was created because, you know, if there had been a soul that was send to hell on my time then I would know about it already, right? At the very least people would still talk about it! I mean, Lucifer is still a hot topic even though it has been so long already. Did you know that the inventor of the wheel was here? I had no idea! And the man to first create chocolate still has a chocolate store here! Isn't that amazing?"

"Focus, dear."

"Mmm? Oh, yes. Well… there was a case in which someone got a genie back on Earth and wished to come to Heaven to see what it was like. But he haven't died yet, so he got send back as soon he was found out and when he did died he ended up in hell anyway. Um, there was also this man who was a dignatary for Heaven who was send to hell and never came back. Those were the closest to this situation I could find."

"That is it then? Either find a genie or be send directly by Heaven to hell? Do you even have access to a genie?"

"No. If I did I would have brought it already. I am really sorry, Alastor. I thought it could work."

Alastor gave her a slight nod. He believed her too, that was what surprised him. She sounded honestly sad over not being able to provide him with anything more useful.

"And I guess you can't help me to communicate with hell like you did before either."

Emily shook her head keeping her eyes down.

"The last time Sera found out there was one less crystal and doubled the security. Now they only open the vault for meetings."

And the possibility of such a meeting happening any time soon was just as low as Heaving sending him personally as a dignatary. Emily promised that she would come to visit again and keep thinking of some other solution. Alastor considered the logistic of killing everyone in the building in their sleep. Sera would just find another room to lock him until he calmed down. Then repeat for infinity. Would there ever be a point in which Heaven kicked him out just to not deal with him anymore? Would they decide instead to just kill him permanently?

Positives: he could kill everyone in the building. They were all souls confused and depressed because of their own lives left behind. Most of them young. They wouldn't be able to fight a lot against someone with more experience, especially if taken by surprise.

Negative: they would definitely take away his watch when realizing that was his weapon. He would have to get a new instrument if he was to do it again. Something that represented it's own set of trouble. There also no garantee that would make him any closer to hell.

He ended up deciding that going on a rampage, for once, was not on his best interest.

On the second day, he tried to make a drawing of his family. Only to find out that despite being married to an artist, he had absorbed zero artistic ability. He still saved those pieces of paper inside his pocket. On the afternoon some Cherubs came visiting to spend times with the resident souls. Alastor did not participate of their activities, but stared at one of them that looked like a fluffy yellow lamb until the creature noticed him and came floating to him.

He presented himself, made his speech about how he understood it was quite shocking to be in Heaven, but if he gave the place a chance he could find something to enjoy too. Alastor indulged him with some light conversation, ommiting the part of him being very familiarized with the concept of the his own death. When the Cherubs had to go, he waved at the little lamb on his way out.

On the third day, he pushed one of the souls down the stairs when no one was watching. He heard the satisfactory crisp crack of bones and saw them laying on the floor with their legs on an unnatural position. The soul spend half an hour on their almost decorative infarmary until was good as new.

On the fourth day, Alastor sneaked on the kitchen and dumped a bunch of cleaning products into the cacerola that it was being cook. That day he decided to stay on his room while everyone ate and subsequently got immediately sick. Nobody saw him do it.

On the fifthy day, he commented to one of the souls about a rumour he heard, one in which you could come back to Earth if you stabbed yourself 7 times in the chest. The soul in question was a young man that hated leaving his pregnant wife behind, so he was stupid enough to believe it. Unfortunately, he did it during the night when the lights were off and Alastor was robbed from an entertaining view as the night staff found him. As to be expected, he didn't die or came to Earth from it. Now that soul was constantly accompanied by one of the staff members at all times.

On the sixth day, Emily came by again and she insisted on making him participate on a circle of stories in the garden. It seemed easier to give her that than to argue. Alastor end up telling the story of when Lucifer slaughtered a bunch of sinners in front of their castle to save him, feeling extra generous on the gory details. When two of the souls started looking nauseous and one actually puked, they told him he could just listen instead the next time.

On the seventh day, someone had hidden all the curtery in the kitchen and broken every single plate so everyone had to eat sandwiches until they could get new ones.

On the eight day, he got called from the library because he had a new visitor. Alastor was half expecting to see Sera, but was even more surprised when he saw the last exorcist with a fixed frown waiting for him. They both sat a table on the lounging room.

"What can I do for you, dear?" asked Alastor before she could open her mouth. "Did you came to tell me even more details about how my beloved king killed all of your companions? Did Adam screamed a lot in the end or it was a quick grunt? Did my husband took his time? I did wondered about that since the last time we spoke."

Lute glared at him.

"If everyone in hell is like you, then you truly deserved the extermination."

"Oh, no, my dear. I am a especial case. One of a kind" Alastor chuckled. He didn't even disagreed that some part of hell deserved to get killed every year. Charlie was the one who believed even those souls deserved a chance, not him. "But enough about me. Tell me about the slaughtering that no doubt must have been so traumatic for you to witness. Do tell me if you wake up screaming calling his name every night."

Lute sneared at him and looked at the doors, as if contemplating to just leave, whatever brought her there be damned. She stayed instead.

"I didn't came to hear your demonic bullshit. I want to make a deal."

The ears of Alastor perked up, twitching slightly in excitement. For an experienced overlord, to hear about a potential deal was like candy offered to children.

"Oh? What kind of deal are we talking about?"

Lute straighten up her back, more relaxed that they were in familiar territory.

"I can get you back to hell. You can come back with your abomination against nature and unholy partner permanently. Your name will be erased from the books."

"Mmm" Alastor squinted his eyes, his smile growing wider. He knew none of that was going to come for free, but maybe he could still turn it on his favor so he didn't had to give up too much. "In exchange, what I would be doing to compensate such a favor?"

"You will get back to destroy that stupid hotel of that mistake you made" Lute didn't bothered to hide the disgust in her voice. "I don't care what methods you have to use, but burn it to ground and make sure that little brat never tries that again."

"Ah, I see how it is" Alastor made a flick of a wrist, admiring his nails. "Sorry, no can do."

"Did you not hear what I said? You can get back to your stupid family today. All you have to do is…"

"I understand what you ask me to do" interrupted Alastor. "You ask me to betray my daughter's trust so irrevocably that her dreams are destroyed. Not to mention the justifiable anger that would elicit from my husband, who, in case you didn't know, could literally kill me in the spot if he wanted to. And even if somehow he doesn't kill me, he will never see me the same way again and my daughter will want nothing to do with me. You ask me to destroy my family in the long run in order to have my family in the short one. I admire this manipulation strategy, I do, it's a classic for a reason. But I will need something better than that, dear."

"We could take you out as soon the deed is done. Send you another place that wasn't here or hell. Like Earth or somewhere else. You can live the rest of your existence however way you like."

"Even so, no" Alastor sighed, resting his cheek on his hand. "You see, I never cared for her project in the first place. You and I probably thought the exact same thing about it this entire time, that it was silly and a waste of time. But now that I know that Charlie was right all along? I hope she pushes forward, even if I am not there to help her. I will love to see your face when this place starts crawling with reformed sinners. Souls who, I am sure, will feel some type of way about seeing one of the responsibles of their genocide walking around. Now that could be fun."

"You said you would do anything."

"Preying on a father's desperation to get what you want is the right move, but I am afraid I have more experience than you tricking people, dear. This deal would favor you a lot more than it would me and that is something I don't feel inclined to allow right now. So no."

"Enjoy your stay in Heaven then" Lute threw like an insult as she stand up, showing him teeh without smiling. "I am sure your little abomination will learn her lesson sooner or later, with or without your help."

"Tell Sera that I said hi, dear" Alastor pet her hair with one hand and she flinched, taking a step back. "Oh, I am sorry. Since you were her willing dog, always ready to get her paws dirty for her, I thought I could treat you like one too. My bad."

"Fuck you, you demon shit."

With that, the visit was done.

On the ninth day, Emily came by again to see how he was doing and also ask another story. Despite what was the intention of him telling the first one was, she hasn't missed that at least Alastor seemed to have fun telling it and it was the first time she saw him getting any fun since his arrival. If the other souls weren't willing to listen to him, she would. She had a stronger stomach and had lived long enough to let some unsavory descriptions get her like that. He was surprised by the request, but secretly pleased and so obliged.

"How about the first soccer game of Charlie?" offered Alastor, since that was something that was going through his mind anyway. Back when Charlie was still smaller than Lucifer, but big enough that didn't want to be attached to her parents as much.

"Oh, I know that game! I am not very good at it, though" commented Emily, getting herself comfortable on the couch, hugging her legs under her dress.

She even sat like Charlie, expectantly, her full attention on him. Alastor sat down on the couch nearby, looking to the other side.

"Charlie was around 8 back then. This was the first important game for her team because it was going to be against a rival sports club and the winner team would get a plastic trophy to get home. So as you can imagine, the stakes were incredibly high."

"Oh, so very important!" agreed Emily with a giggle.

"Me and my husband were on the crowd of parents watching. We wouldn't have missed it for anything in the world. In hell we keep our relationship a secret for various reasons, so we both were disguised as mere imp servants of the palace. Lucifer had gone all the way out to support Charlie with his own thematic shirt that said CHARLIE N°1 FAN and showing a glittery sign he had made himself declaring Charlie as the best player ever. After a while of his yelling and enthusiastic movement every time Charlie as much touched the ball, soon nobody but me was willing to stay close to him.

Unlike my husband, I showed my support with a thumb up when she looked into our direction. Neither of us truly cared about sports, but when the team of Charlie started losing Lucifer was the classic fan that yelled at the referee for every perceived mistake, since he couldn't at the other young players. I personally thought it was hilarious how colorful his insult became. My poor little fawn had no way to hide her embarassment.

She and her team were losing, unfortunately. When the game was about to end, Lucifer asked me to cause a distraction while he went and enchanted the ball. We didn't want the first ever official game of Charlie with another team to end in failure. Not our little girl.

So I slipped some choice words into the ears of some parents nearby. These ones were even worse than Lucifer, directing their agression towards the rival players or even the team player of their kids. It took just a comment about how the other parents were talking badly about their kids and suddenly a fight broke up. The rest of the adults either protested or were encouraging it even further, finding it more entertaining than the whole game.

In the middle of the confusion, Lucifer slipped to get the ball of the game and put a spell on it. When he came back to his seat, after the two fighters moved to the parking lot to continue their dispute, he told me that the spell would make it so the ball would go directly where Charlie wanted to as long she was the one kicking. I may or may not help too by making some of the kids to trip over themselves when they came close to the ball with a sneaky tentacle that instantly dissapeared in a shadow. Oh, don't look at me like that, dear. Nobody got hurt. Maybe except that one kid that broke his ankle, but to be fair, he had been pushing people the entire time so he had it coming.

This strategy seemed to work. The numbers of both teams even out quickly. Charlie didn't deliver each point, but she was fast and had good reflexes to help her team mates when they were cornered.

Until an imp selling hot dogs in a cart appeared ringing a bell to call attention. She must have been hungry. That is the only thing I could imagine to explain why the ball flew from the field straight to the seller's face, knocking him out in the floor.

The ball continue rolling by itself to the road, where it was flattened almost instantly. They had to bring a new ball. Lucifer grabbed to my arm so strong that it was squeezing my bone, which would leave a lovely bruise for me to discover later, as we saw the timmer ran out. He murmured a curse to make the goalkeeper become blind temporarely, but before he could finish it… Charlie scored the final point.

All her team mates celebrated hugging each other. Their victory declared, Lucifer screamed conjuring confetti out of his hands. When the whistle of the referee declared them officially the winners, Lucifer ran to go celebrate with Charlie. I went to pick up the bag of Charlie when I heard other parents nearby. They were looking at Charlie and commenting about how sad it was that her own parents weren't there, like it was for all the other kids. Instead, mere servants had to come to see her at all. Did the king ever came out of his palace at all anymore? Was he even alive? How could he be so cruel and heartless to not make any time for his daughter? And poor Charlie. She was going to grow up feeling so unloved!

I loved to hear that kind of talk from people. Showed how much they had no idea of anything. It was especially amusing hear them talk like that about my fawn when I could hear her laughter not that far away from me. But when I turned around, I was surprised when Charlie ignored Lucifer's open arms and came to look for my own. Sending a shrug to Lucifer, I picked her up and hugged her as she clinged to my neck. She spoke to me in a tiny grumpy voice.

Papa cheated.

When the game resumed, Charlie immediately knew there was something different about the ball on the game. She couldn't know why, though. Since she was made from both our magic, she was very sensitive to the presence of either around her. The ball was undeniable drenched on Lucifer's magic. She still had no idea what that meant, but quickly made the connection when the ball went exactly where she was wishing it for. The smashing the face of the hot dog seller had been a genuine accident, though. Charlie was actually aiming for the street and the imp just happened to be on the way. Apparently she haven't noticed my own tentacles, either because they weren't as easy to spot in front of Lucifer's magic or they were too small and fast for her to pick up. Either way, what is a father to do but to console my little angry fawn?

When Lucifer came for us, Charlie dedicated him a tongue sticking and buried her face on my shoulder. She wanted to reprimand him, but knew she couldn't in public. I couldn't help but to feel proud of her for that, just as much as she dealing with the situation. We still waited to see that the trophy was delivered to their couch. Charlie spoke with her friends on the team and then took my hand, refusing to aknowledge Lucifer as he took us apart to make a portal direct to home. As soon we were on the other side, back at our home, her little antlers grew up in her head as she gave Lucifer a piece of her mind.

Papa was dumb. Papa didn't need to rig her game, she got it already. She had been training so much and he almost ruined it! How could he do that to her?

She stomped her way with her hooves back to her room, yelling she didn't want to celebrate anything anymore. We already had gotten the cake that either was going to console her or make her happier. Lucifer tried to bring a piece to her and Charlie refused to talk to him the entire time, hiding inside her bed to not see him. Lucifer tried to apologize, but she didn't want to hear about it. I tried to tell him to give her some time and it would pass, but it wasn't enough.

At the next day, Charlie was still upset. She stubbornly avoided recognizing Lucifer and stuck to my side as a barrier between herself and her father. I tried to tell Charlie that her papa didn't mean anything bad with what he did, but then she got upset at me and locked herself on her room. By lunch Lucifer had think of a perfect solution to calm down our daughter. Guess what it was?

He decided to make a little tournament in our backyard. Summoning my own shadow minions as the rest of the player and himself as the rival goalkeeper, Lucifer declared that he would recognize Charlie as the best soccer player in all of hell if she could win against him. But she better watch out because he wasn't planning to go soft on her just because she was his little girl! If she had such trust on her own abilities, surely she would have no use proving it to him! No cheating, no magic, nothing. My minion were commanded to play their respective roles, nothing else. To garantee some sense of impartiality, Lucifer somehow had convinced Satan to be the referee. I still don't know how he did it.

Oh, I know that saying that name already brought a bunch of association for you, dear. Despite the opinion that Heaven might have of the embodiment of the Sin of Wrath, Satan was actually an stickler of the rules like no other. He might as well been the only one of the sins who cared about the rules set up in Hell. Yes, really. Indeed, I appreciate the irony too. He was also the only Sin that greeted us with a reverence and using our titles, something that Lucifer had try to tell him he didn't had to do without any success.

Charlie knew her uncle well enough to be familiarized with that aspect of him, so she knew he was the best candidate for the job. He wasn't going to be indulgent with any part of this game. The winner would get to chose dinner and dessert for the next week, and Lucifer loudly announced that he might pick salads or something greener since lately they were lacking on that. And why have desserts at all? A good healthy dinner should be enough to fill any stomach!

Charlie gasped in pure horror before she turned into pure determination. Now this, this was more personal than ever before. Forget about the plastic trophy, these were the real high stakes now.

With everyone put on their place, the game started. To give credit to Lucifer where it was due, he made himself even smaller to be a proper goalkeeper and stopped a few of the points from Charlie's team, even when they came from Charlie. Satan kept the score easily, making sound the whistle that I imagine he must have brought himself that hanged from his neck each time it was necessary. Every fault was called out for. Every penalty was delivered with the same rigurosity.

Lucifer kept taunting Charlie when she was the closest on his side of the field, talking about how delicious all those green salads were going to be. No more cookies pre dinner either! Maybe he was going to lock them up in a safe or give them to Satan as payment for being there! All of them! Not a single cookie crumble left behind! Satan didn't reply to that, but I could imagine he wasn't going to want the cookies. But when my minion scored on the other side, Lucifer still couldn't help himself to tell Charlie that it was okay, she was going to do better for the next one!

By default I guess I end up being the coach of Charlie, giving her something to drink and support during the half time. For the moment at least, it seemed she had forgotten she was supposed to be angry at me too. Her little eyebrows were coming together, but I saw the smile that she was actively trying to hide on her face. I told her that if she wanted to confuse her enemy, she should really smile all the more even if she is close to losing. A confused enemy was a disoriented one, little fawn, and that meant they were all the more easy to trick into doing what you wanted them to. At the same time, they will never know what you are up to with a good smile.

I don't know if she could fully understand what I was saying to her. She was smart, but even smart kids had their limits. In any case, when Satan said everyone had to go to their positions again, she wasn't hiding her enjoyment, laughing. I guess she interpretate that as permission to just have fun…? Whatever worked for her, I suppose. I wasn't about to complain for seeing my fawn happy.

The scoring points for a while stayed even. Charlie gave her absolute best, nobody could say she didn't try. She fought valiantly until the end. But when Satan blowed his whistle, the numbers didn't lie. She had lost by one point.

Lucifer tried to ask Satan for more time, but before he could finish his sentence Charlie already was yelling at him for it. She had lost fair and square, she didn't want any more help! She said that… and then started crying standing there. When Lucifer hold her, she didn't fight it and clinged back, whimpering she didn't like salads, please, she could eat one, but not for a entire week straight, no, please. Every resentment she had went away as easy as that by the fears of green vegetables."

"Aww, poor thing" said Emily, pouting for the distress of a little girl she never saw. "Did she really had to?"

"No, of course not. Lucifer let her have her celebration cake for dessert, after I prepared some my most delicious meat with only a few green. That is the story of how Lucifer learned not to cheat… in such an obvious way that a 8 year old could find him out immediately."

Emily giggled behind her hand.

"That is a terrible lesson to take from that" protested nonetheless.

Alastor shrugged. They could agree to disagree.

"I am waiting for my review" said non chalantly, lifting his hand as if asking it for written.

"Oh, it was very good! The moral could improve, but you have a real talent for storytelling."

"I do, thank you for noticing."

"Did you do that a lot back at your home?" asked Emily, her voice softening as she supported her head over her knee. Alastor appreciated that she didn't say "downstair" or any stupid other name. "Telling stories about your life?"

Alastor nodded his head.

"Charlie was the one who asked me the most" explained with a low sigh. "It started with her wanting to know how her parents met and from there she just kept wanting to know more. Back when I was alive on Earth I was a radio host and I had my own broadcast in hell as well. Speaking in front of an audience and improvising wasn't nothing new to me. I might have tell so many of them at least a dozen times, but she never got tired of them."

"Well, I never heard them so I can be surprised by them" pointed out Emily and then moved her leg to kick them on the corner of the couch. "To tell you the truth, it's really fascinating to hear you talk about hell as you do. I know you describe people fighting and screaming and probably there were people doing worse than that, but still they also… go to their kid's game to support them and they care for kids that aren't their own. It doesn't sound so scary when you put it that way. Maybe it's just a matter of finding the right people and even Hell is not that bad."

Alastor arched an eyebrow, truly amazed that was her interpretation.

"Oh, no, dear, don't get confused. Hell is awful, horribly so. Just because I enjoy it like that, doesn't mean others would."

"I know" Emily smiled to him. "But it's still nice to think about it. That some good things can be found anywhere, even in hell."

"Inside of every demon there is a rainbow, huh" murmured Alastor quietly for himself, looking at his hand holding his staff.

No wonder Charlie had connected with Emily so quickly during a brief meeting.

"What?"

"Nothing, dear, just thinking out loud" He lifted his shoulders and let them fall, regaining his normal volume. "Well, until I can get out of here, you can ask me whatever you want about my home. I don't promise that you will like all of it, though."

"Can I ask more stories?"

Alastor could feel his tail moving slightly under his jacket suit. It was the first time since arriving to Heaven.

"For sure."

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Rosie sends an invite to Alastor, Niffty, Husk, and Charlie to come for dinner to meat her husband.

Charlie is clearly excited, gushing to Vaggie about building connections across pride and of course how wonderful is it Rosie married?

She doesn't get the giggling Niffty does but then, that's just who Niffty is.

Husk looks on the verge of telling her something... but gives up before a word comes out.

Cut to a large tray inthe middle of the table, the lid comes up and it's a special dish by the recently widowed. Cooked to perfection, naturally.

"Ah my dear, allow me to introduce you to my dear ex-husband... he was rather persistent about being introduced to my friends, so it felt only right to do an eat'n'greet."

"Aha... oooookaaaaaay..." Charlie grins, tightly, shooting a HELP ME glance over at Husk.

"Just try a little, Charlotte, Rosie always does find the most delectable specimens to marinate in her matrimonial methods." Alastor encourages, directing her to a nice cut of thigh meat.

"CAN I EAT HIS DI-...!"

A shadow tendril covers Niffty's mouth, giving Charlie a chance to take a bite without the full scrutiny of the table. She automatically tries to reject it, knowing that the meat was a Who rather than a What... but, and she's never telling Vaggie this... after the flavour hits her tongue it's clear she can manage this.

"...wow..." she huffs.

"Right? My last husand was a bit dry, so I went a little overboard on the juices this time... but if I do say so myself, he came out perfectly." Rosie preens. A calculating looks enters those voidless sockets. "Hmmm, but you, my dear... so youthful and brimming with power... why, I don't think I'd even need to go that far. Maybe mix in some spices for a compliment to your persistent personality..."

"Uhhhh...."

"(Cough)It'sacannibalcomplimentthingjustgowithit(cough)" from Husk.

"...thank you?" There's a pause. "Well, I'm a fan of sweet things so... I think... I'd want to try that recipe my dad likes where you mix spice and sugar on the meat so it tastes just balanced between the two?"

Rosie claps her hands in delight. "Oh, what a lovely thought, my dear! Alastor, you didn't mention how charming she was before, and I think you two need to collaborate if you ever get around to eatin' little old me... that's almost as scintillating as your idea."

"An excellent proposal!" Alastor heartily agrees. "Now, do... as you referred to it last time... 'spill the tea' about what is happening in that odd little territory by the railroad. You mentioned something about a budding overlord with some sort of... condiment theme?"

"Why yes, fascinating little upstart! Let me tell you..."

And it faded into the general murmur of dinner conversation as Charlie decided one that what Vaggie didn't know wouldn't hurt, as she finished her plate. She vaguely wondered if they could try the recipe with a non-sinner meat sometime at the hotel...

--------

Upon returning to the hotel, Charlie was able to report that things had gone exceptionally well, and relations with Cannibal Town were stronger than ever!

Lucifer congratulated her, but his snake-like tongue caught the faint scent of sinner on her breath when they spoke, and he merely raised an eyebrow. Raising more questions for Charlie about if her parents had ever had a... a meal of that calibre, in their aeons in Hell.

Vaggie was carefully dissuaded from a kiss until after she'd had a chance to brush her teeth, of course. Even if that meant a rather pointed pout in her direction.

"Heeeeey Whiskers, you wanna come t'my room and have a little after dinner entertainment?" Angel croons, lighting up as the cat appeared behind the group, half-carrying the yawning Niffty.

"Now, now, my good man, I believe dear Husker has had more than enough man meat in his mouth for one night..." Alastor drops, casually into the conversation, before striding off like nothing had happened.

Angel spat his drink a good four feet and wheezed as Husk tried desperately to provide context.

"...Charlie, what was that about?" Vaggie hedges.

She turns, guiltily grinning awkwardly and shrugging. "Uhhhh, nothing, just an inside joke from dinner..."

"Was that another euphemism...?" Angel croaks, half dead but no longer actively choking.

"Well, if one must be technical then it could be said everyone has had a specific sinner inside them tonight." comes the cackle as the shit-stirrer general disappears into shadow.

"I think Smiles is tryna kill me with weird innuendos..." Angel groans. "I didn't even know he could DO that..."

"Rosie's been teaching him 'slang'... often against his will." Charlie laughs, then covers her mouth as if she'd accidentally shared the wrong secret. "Ooops... please don't tell him I told you that, or he's going to call me a Cringefail Queen again. It was weird eough the first time."

"He called you a what in the who now?"

"Don't worry about it Dad, I'll tell you what that means later."

"Are we skipping over the fact you all ate sinner tonight, or...?" Vaggie queries. "You, Missie, are brushing your teeth before goodnight smooches."

"Heh, it's a... cultural exhange of sorts?"

"She's right Maggie, everyone's eaten a little flesh here and there over the centuries. No biggie."

"Did the short king just admit to eatin' ass?"

"He's going to turn you into charcoal if you keep that up, Legs."

"Pfft, you think that'd rile me up, Angel? I stole BOTH of Adam's wives, and got the big idiot eventually... of course I eat as-..."

"Lalalalalalalalaa CAN'T HEAR THIS!" Charlie yells, hands over her ears, as Vaggie steers her out of the room.

Angel, intrigued, leans forwards. "Tell me more..."

"Okay, so imagine existence before good and evil, there was this garden and-..."

Niffty vibrated in the corner, hanging on every word.

[fanfics4all]

Should Have Been Me

Request: Yes / No  (I'm sorry to bother again but I just love your fics so much) could I request another but harry has a twin sister who is a hufflepuff but no one really knows about her she's practically Harry's shadow she was selected in the goblet of fire along with her boyfriend (Cedric) to some attention but doesn't work so when they to the cemetery before Peter kills Cedric she takes the hit know others will miss him more than her and he brings back her body Harry gets devastated for losing his sister @kiss-cult​

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Cedric Diggory x Fem!Potter!Reader 

Word count: 2643

Warnings: death and that should be it 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I first got sorted I was a little upset that I wasn’t in the same house as my brother. Harry was placed in Gryffindor and I was placed in Hufflepuff. Being new to the wizarding world I was kind of scared and nervous. Luckily an older student named Cedric helped me a lot. We became close and Cedric ended up asking me out. I of course said yes and Harry wasn’t happy about it at first. He’s always been the over protective brother, but once he saw how incredibly happy I was he accepted it. 

It was the beginning of fourth year and I was sitting in the Great Hall next to Cedric. We may have seen each other over the summer recently, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts had been chosen-” Dumbledore cut himself off as Filch ran up to him. He whispered something to him and ran off again. 

“So Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-Wizard Tournament.” He said and people started whispering. I furrowed my brow confused about what was going on. 

“Now for those of you who do not know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear, if chosen you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more on that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of magic and their headmistress Madam Maxime.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened and a group of very pretty girls dressed in blue danced their ways up the aisle. Butterflies flew into the air and just about every boy was staring at them. They bowed and everyone applauded. 

“And now our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrand and the high master Igor Karkaroff.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened again and some older looking boys walked up the aisles holding bo staffs. They were twirling them around and something slamming into the ground, making sparks fly. The girls were staring in awe, well I wasn't, I didn’t much care for them honestly. Once everyone was settled the feast started. 

Once it was finished Dumbledore gained everyone’s attention again for another announcement. 

“Your attention please! I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But to do this that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. For this reason the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartimus Crouch.” He said. Thunder roared above us and it started to rain. Students screamed as they started getting wet. Someone casted a spell at the ceiling and everyone was back to normal. 

“Who is that?” I asked Cedric.

“Mad-Eye Moody. He used to be an Aura.” He explained and I nodded. 

“Why is he called Mad-Eye?” I asked. 

“Well, he lost his eye and leg during the war and he honestly his job just made him lose it.” He said and I frowned. 

“How sad.” I said. 

“After much deliberation the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This decision is final.” Mr. Crouch said and a bunch of students started booing. 

“Silence!” Dumbledore shouted and everyone quieted down. Dumbledore casted a spell over a box and it revealed a goblet containing a blue flame. 

“The goblet of fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this house on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there’s no turning back. As from this moment the Tri-Wizard Tournament has begun!” Dumbledore explained. 

The whole week Cedric was talking about wanting to put his name in. I was worried about him doing so, but I couldn’t stop him if he really wanted to. Luckily he came to me before he made his final decision. 

“Well, what do you think?” He asked and I sighed. 

“Honestly? I think it’s too dangerous, maybe it’s because this is still kind of new to me but still, it’s really up to you.” I said. 

“Do you not want me to?” He asked and I bit my lip. 

“I just don’t want to see you die.” I said and he smiled. 

“Don’t worry love, I promise I’ll come back to you.” He said and kissed me. 

“You better.” I giggled. He quickly wrote his name down and grabbed my hand. He led me through the halls and to the goblet. He ran up and placed his name into the fire. That was it, there was no going back. 

The rest of the week I was so anxious. I wasn’t going to be better until they picked names. I could only hope that Cedric wasn’t picked. Thursday came soon enough and we were all gathered in the goblet room. 

“Sit down please! And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champions selection!” Dumbledore said as everyone was taking their seats. Dumbledore approached the blue flame and it started glowing red. A name flew out and I felt my heart rate picked up. 

“The Durmstrang champion is, Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore shouted. People cheered as another name came out. 

“The champion from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!” He shouted. Peopled cheered as the last name came out. 

“The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!” He announced and my heart clenched. Cedric smiled as he ran up to the front. He grabbed his name and ran into the room with the others. 

“Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice on champions, this vessel of victory the Tri-Wizard cup!” He said. Everyone cheered, but the goblet started glowing red again. Another name flew out and Dumbledore silently reads it. 

“Y/N Potter. Y/N Potter?” He called and my eyes widened. I looked over at Harry, who looked just as shocked. 

“Y/N Potter!” He shouted again and I slowly got up. I walked up to him and took my name from his hands. 

“She’s a cheat! She’s not even seventeen yet!” a few people shouted. 

“She got Cedric to put her name in!” Someone else said, but I ignored them and walked into the room with the others. Everyone looked at me with a mix of shock and confusion. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Cedric asked. 

“I-I don’t know. My-” I was cut off by the teachers bursting into the room. Dumbledore grabbed me and my eyes widened. 

“Y/N! Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?” He asked. 

“No sir!” I answered. 

“Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?” He asked. 

“No sir!” I said. 

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asked. 

“Yes sir.” I answered. 

“Well of course she is lying!” Madame Maxime said. 

“The hell she is. The goblet of fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful conjurer could have hoodwinked it. Magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year.” Mad-Eye said. 

“You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought Mad-Eye.” Igor said. 

“It was once my job to think as dark wizards do Karkaroff, perhaps you remember?” He said. 

“That doesn’t help Alastor. Leave this to you Barty.” Dumbledore said. 

“The rules are absolute, the goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mrs. Potter has no choice, she is as of tonight… a Tri-Wizard champion.” He said and my eyes widened. Cedric and I went back to the common room and everyone was giving me a nasty glare. 

“Ignore them.” Cedric whispered and took me to my room. 

“Did you actually put your name in?” He asked. 

“No! I’ve been so terrified for you, I would never even think about putting my name in!” I said and he nodded. 

“Alright, I believe you. I just had to ask.” He said. 

“I don’t want to do this Ced.” I said. 

“I know, but you have to, love.” He said and kissed my head. 

The first two trials weren’t the easiest. Cedric had helped me prepare, but I was alone in this. I had managed to survive until the last challenge. Everyone was gathered outside at an arena and music was playing like nothing bad was about to happen. The champions walked out, along with myself. My nerves were at an all time high. 

“Earlier today Professor Moody placed the Tir-Wizard cup deep within the maze. Only he knows its exact position. Now as Mr. Diggory-” Dumbledore was cut off by people cheering. 

“And Mrs. Potter tied for first position they will be the first to enter the maze. Followed by Mr. Krum and Mrs. Delacour. The first person to touch the cup will be the winner. I’ve instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter, if at any point should a contestant wish to withdraw from the task he or she need only send up red sparks with their wands. Contestants, gather round.” He said and we all walked over to him. 

“In the maze you’ll find not dragons or creatures of the deep. Instead you’ll face something more challenging. You see, people change in the maze. Oh find the cup if you can, but be very weary you could just lose yours;ves along the way.” He said and I became more nervous. 

“Champions! Prepare yourselves!” Mad-Eye said. Cedric hugged his Father and I hugged Harry. 

“Be safe.” He said and I nodded while I bit my lip. 

“I’m scared Harry.” I whispered. 

“Hey, you can do this.” He said with a reassuring smile. 

“Harry’s right, you’re strong.” Cedric said coming over to us. 

“I’m so scared.” I said. 

“Hey, you got this, love. You can win this.” He said and I smiled slightly. 

“Don’t go easy on me, Ced.” I said and he smiled. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said and pecked my lips. Harry went up went up to the stands while Cedric and I went to out starting spots. 

“On the count of three… One-” Dumbledore was cut off by the cannon going off. Cedric and I entered the maze and I watched the walls close behind me. 

As I was walking through everything was making me anxious. There was a heavy mist and there were noises all around me. While I was walking I noticed Fleur was on the ground unconscious. She was slowly being swallowed by the walls and I started panicking slightly. I shot up the red sparks and hoped that someone would save her. I kept walked through the maze and noticed something shining in the distance. I started towards it and someone tried to hit me with a spell. 

“Get down!” Cedric shouted and I ducked. Cedric hit him with a spell and ran up to him, kicking the wand from his hands. He pointed his wand at Viktor’s body and my eyes widened. 

“No stop! He’s bewitched Ced!” I said. Cedric wasn’t himself. The two of us started to struggle. 

“Get off me!” He growled.

“He’s bewitched!” I said again. He pushed me off him and the two of us started running towards the cup. The undergrowth grabbed Cedric and he fell to the ground. I looked at Cedric and I froze in fear. 

“Y/N!” He called. I quickly gained the courage and sent a spell to the plant that held him. I helped Cedric up and he looked at me. 

“You know, for a moment there I thought you were gonna let it get me.” He said. 

“Never, I was just scared.” I said. 

“Some game huh?” He asked. 

“Yeah…” I said with a sigh. The wind started to blow and Cedric pushed me towards the cup. 

“Go! Take it, you saved me!” He said and I shook my head. 

“Together, on three. One, two, three!” I said. We both ran towards the cup and grabbed it at the same time. The cup ported us somewhere and we landed on the ground. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“I think so, are you?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Where are we?” He asked. I looked around and noticed we were in a graveyard, it looked just like the one Harry and I have been dreaming of… 

“I’ve been here before…” I whispered. 

“It’s a portkey. Y/N, the cup is a portkey!” Cedric said. 

“I’ve been here before in a dream. Cedric, we need to get back to the cup, now!” I said. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, grabbing me by the shoulders. I felt a sudden pain in my head and I groaned in pain as I held my scar. 

“What is it?” Cedric asked, his voice filled with concern. 

“Get back to the cup, please!” I begged. Wormtail walked out holding what I could only assume is what’s left of Voldemort. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Cedric asked, getting ready to protect me. 

“Kill the spare.” I heard Voldemort’s voice said. 

“No!” I shouted before he could cast the spell. I jumped in front of Cedric and the spell hit me. 

Cedric’s POV

Y/N was dead. She took the curse that was meant for me. She sacrificed herself for me. 

“You idiot!” The creepy voice hissed. The man who was holding something walked closer and he trapped me with a tombstone. 

“Do it quickly.” The voice said and the man dropped something into a cauldron. 

“Bones of a Father, unwillingly given.” He said. A bone hovered over to the cauldron and was dropped in. 

“Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed.” He said and cut his own arm off over the cauldron. 

“Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.” He said and walked over to Y/N.

“Leave her alone!” I growled at him, but he ignored me. He took the knife and sliced down her arm. He quickly took the knife back over to the cauldron and let the drops fall in. 

“The Dark Lord shall rise again!” He said. The cauldron burst into flames and Voldemort emerged. 

“My wand Wormtail.” He said. My eyes widened. He was back. He looked back at me with a smirk and then over at Y/N.

“Such a shame.” He said looking at her. 

“The only reason you are still alive is so you can return her to Harry Potter. Tell him I have returned and I will win.” He said and I was freed. I ran over to Y/N and grabbed the cup. We were transported back to the arena and everyone was cheering. 

“Y/N?” I heard Harry asked, and I just cried. Harry ran over and kneeled next to his sister. 

“What happened?” He asked with tears falling down his face. 

“He’s back! Voldemort is back. It was meant for me, I was meant to die. She jumped in front of me and took it.” I tried. 

“This is your fault! You killed her!” Harry cried and clung to his sister. 

“I-I…” I couldn’t say anything. I felt like it was my fault. I should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around. 

“I’m sorry Harry.” I cried. 

“Sorry won’t bring back my sister!” He shouted. He was right. Y/N was gone and it’s all my fault… 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​ @sambucky8​ 

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender - Part 2

“He’s so in love with ya,” Angel smirks, lying on your bed in your hotel room, surrounded by your folded laundry and knocking over said piles of laundry. You roll your eyes and continue hanging up your newly cleaned dresses and blouses.

“What are you going on about?”

“The fact that Strawberry Pimp has been following ya around like a love-sick puppy for the last year.” 

You throw a sock at Angel and shoot him a glare. Although, your mind can’t help but wander to the last year following Alastor’s insertion into your lives. He has been spending quite a bit of time with you... which is completely understandable! You both enjoy the same type of music, although he was quite affronted when he learned that you don’t really dance and insisted that he teach you. Now he pulls you into a dance whenever there is a good song playing. 

And he loves to cook just like you, even though you are partial to baking. He often joins you in the kitchen around meal times to assist in prep or even to make a dish when you’re overwhelmed. On slow days, you find yourself thinking about the time Charlie had you all celebrate Thanksgiving. Charlie had insisted you all celebrate the holiday in even though nobody, save you and Alastor, could cook to save their lives. You were honestly dreading all the sides and desserts and proteins you would have to prepare for everyone, and Charlie had only added to the stress when she came prancing into the kitchen and revealed that her mother had agreed to eat with you all. Somehow sensing your stress, Alastor was there in an instant and allowed you to put him to work. He was a dream in the kitchen, so helpful and chivalrous, and he even made a curated playlist of all your favorite songs to put you in better spirits. It was one of your fonder moments in the normally stressful work environment, particularly when you had cut yourself chopping sweet potatoes and Alastor had rushed to tend to you. Really, it was just a little nick. It didn’t even draw blood but it did sting a bit causing you to hiss quietly. Alastor heard that sound as if it were as loud as a siren and was by your side, bending down to analyze your hand, behaving as though you had just chopped off your entire hand.

“You really must be more careful, dearest,” he murmured and frowned at the cut, willing it to disappear. 

You think about Thanksgiving and the way he held your injured finger more than you’re proud to admit. 

---

You shake yourself out of your reverie. No. No, no, no. Nope! You were not about to indulge in some small school-girl crush. That would only cause it to fester into something bigger in your heart, something dangerous. And you were certainly not about to buy into your brother’s teasing and tendency to romanticize things. Angel was smart, observant, but was also incredibly naive when it came to affection, or rather, sinisterness disguised by affection. And you were no stranger when it came to love and its effects on perception. You made that mistake once and it got you down here, you were not about to let that happen again...

Even if it was at the hands of that darling deer.

“Come on.” You hang up your last blouse and motion for Angel to follow you to the lobby. You both were late for your weekly family dinner and your father would not be pleased. 

“I’m just saying, when was the last time ya got laid?” Angel asks as you make your way down the hall towards the lobby.

“Angel!”

“What? Please tell me you’ve at least gotten some since--” 

You’re too short to smack his head, so you resort to kicking him in the shin.

“If you say his name in front of me I will maim you,” you scold. 

“Got it, got it. Okay but in all seriousness, are ya ever gonna move on?”

“Nope, and even if I did, he’d have to be very special and very serious. I’m not going to waste my time pining.” You cross your arms, quieting your voice as you draw nearer to the warm glow of the lobby. 

“But Alastor seems more than eager.”

“Of course he does,” you say sarcastically.

“Sis, I’m serious! He follows ya--”

“--Around like a lovesick puppy, yes so you keep saying.” You stop suddenly and shift your arms so that they’re wrapped around your torso. You avoid Angel’s confused and worried eyes, finding the carpet far easier to face than your brother’s concern. You are supposed to take care of him, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone.

“Angel,” you sigh. “He’s like that with everyone. I’m not special to him, he just likes me because we enjoy some of the same things and I fit his idea of ‘polite company.’ But I’m not special. And... And even if I did feel that way about him it wouldn’t matter because I’m not anything to him. He’s made it perfectly clear that he has no use for close friends. So why would I be an exception?” 

You turn and start taking brisk steps towards the door before you allow Angel to hear your sniffs and see your red-rimmed eyes. You bid a quick goodbye to Husk even though he’s passed out at his desk and make your way to your car. You don’t see Alastor, who was leaning against the wall near the mouth of the hallway where you had just pored your heart out to your brother. You don’t see the way his smile falters just a little or the way his eyes widen in alarm. You don’t see the plate of cookies in his hands, ones he had made just for you as a surprise.

But Angel does.

“Ya okay there, smiles?” Angel reaches for one of the double chocolate chip cookies but his hand is smacked away by Alastor.

“These are not for you,” he snaps but his voice lacks conviction and his eyes continue to stare off longingly at the door you’ve just walked through. Angel takes in the Radio Demon’s furrowed brows and follows his gaze.

“They’re for (Y/N),” Angel smirks and elbows Alastor’s arm teasingly. 

“I knew ya had the hots for her! Jeez, could ya have been any more obvious?” Angel cackles.

“Apparently not obvious enough,” Alastor mutters.

“You heard some of that, huh?”

“All of it, actually.” Alastor looks down dejectedly at the plate of cookies. “I... I thought I was--”

“Oh, believe me, if you were being any more obvious with anyone else, you would’ve had your answer months ago. But (Y/N) she’s... she’s not everyone else. She’s very closed off, honestly you’re lucky she even sees you as a friend.”

Alastor barely nods his head in acknowledgement because all his mental energies are directed towards you. You and your bouncy, beautiful hair. You and your enchanting curves and the smooth sound of your voice when you think he isn’t around to hear you. You and your tenderness towards the very few who have earned it, and your willingness to utterly destroy anyone who tries to hurt those few. You and the time he came home with a few scratches after an altercation with Vox and you fussed over him in the genuine way his mother once did. You and your gentle hands that kneed pie crusts and crack eggs, hands that he delights in holding and finds any reason to do so. 

He really never believed he could feel this way about anyone. This captivated, this dedicated, this entranced and enchanted. But here you are, captivating and enchanting him beyond all reason. At first it was infuriating, the nights he would lie awake thinking of whatever adorable thing you had done that day. Or the way his body wanted, needed to be near you even when his mind screamed at him that you were a weakness. Someone he couldn’t afford to love lest it make him vulnerable, puny, at risk of losing everything that he had built in Hell. 

Until about four months into knowing each other. Some brute had come to stay in the hotel. He didn’t really bother to remember the creature’s name, just that he was rude and inconsiderate and didn’t know how to respect a lady. Alastor had wandered into the kitchen to help you with lunch, per the subconscious ritual he had fallen into, when he heard a loud smack. He opened the door to see said brute trying to force himself upon you and... the next thing he knew the entire kitchen, himself, and you were drenched in the blood of this horrid man. The kind of carnage Alastor only found himself achieving when in an intense fit of rage. You had stood there, frozen, and Alastor was briefly afraid that he had terrified you beyond the point of repair. But after you had gotten over the shock of the man’s attempted assault, you had sprinted to him and buried yourself into his chest before you could remind yourself about his aversion to touch. But he had always seemed to make an exception for you. And he always would.

After that day Alastor realized two things: that you were not a weakness, rather a new source of strength for him, and that he would literally do anything to get you to run into his arms like that again. Alastor didn’t need anymore convincing of the love he had for you. But apparently, you were in an entirely different boat.

“So what do I do?”

“What?” Angel asks, pulling away a hand that was trying again to steal another cookie.

“You’re incredibly close. She tells you everything. What more can I do to show her I’m serious?” Alastor hates how desperate he sounds but that’s what he is. Desperate for you.

“Well that depends, how serious are ya?”

“Deathly.”

Angel’s eyes glance down and back up at the cookies. Alastor relents and tosses him a cookie so he can continue.

“She’s... she’s so incredibly dear to me. She drives me mad and yet I can’t bring myself to stay away. I need her, I feel like there’s a deep, gaping chasm when I’m without her. I--”

“God, okay, you’ve convinced me. I give ya my blessing, sheesh.” Angel finishes the cookie.

“Angel,” you call, marching back into the lobby. Alastor almost drops the plate at your sudden appearance. 

“Angel we’re going to be late!”

“Good evening, dearest,” Alastor lurches from the wall, smile wide and beaming, trying to convey all the love he holds for you. He tries to lower his tone on the word ‘dearest,’ tries to make it apparent that you are his dearest everything.

“Good evening, Alastor.” You grace him with a sweet smile but your eyes are sad, probably from what he overheard earlier. “Who are those for, Al?”

“Oh, for you, dearie!” He thrusts the plate in front of you, shoulders hunched in an effort to seem more humble, less intimidating for you. You really are quite small and so precious.

“F-For me?” Your face flushes the prettiest shade of red.

“You mentioned double-chocolate chip is your favorite, yes?”

“It is. T-Thank you, Al, that really is so sweet.” You take one cookie off the plate and indulge yourself in the dark chocolate. Oh, he really outdid himself.

Alastor revels in the joy in your eyes and the fact that he put it there. 

“It was my absolute pleasure, darling. I was more than happy to do it. You’ve just been working so hard lately, I thought you deserved something sweet.”

Your smile widens, bathing him in warmth until it falters at the sight of Angel.

“Angel, we have to go or dad and Niss are going to have a fit.”

“Oh,” Alastor interjects. “Where are you both off to?”

You smooth down your fancier-than-normal (f/c) skirt.

“Just family dinner, but it’s important apparently. Dad has an announcement. We would have had more time to chat if Angel didn’t distract me this evening,” you say pointedly at your brother. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll be out in a minute. I just have to go bother Husky for a moment.”

You roll your eyes.

“Fine. Alastor,” you turn back to him. Alastor perks up immediately at your attention. “Thank you so much for this. You really didn’t--”

“I won’t hear it, love. Now go enjoy your dinner, I’ll make sure these are waiting when you get back.” He gives you a genuine grin, something reserved only for you. “And might I add that you look ravishing in that skirt, dear. Is it new?”

“Oh,” your blush increases and glows. “Thank you, Alastor. Um... have a pleasant evening.”

Once you’re out of the lobby, Angel turns to Alastor, noticing the way he deflates in your absence. 

“Look, I gotta go. Now I can talk more when we get back but this,” he points at the plate of cookies. “Is a great start! Personal, sweet, something you wouldn’t do for anyone else. She needs to know that you think she’s special, that you make exceptions for her, that you want to spend time with her outside of “coincidentally” being in the kitchen with her. And for Pete’s sake, ya gotta ask her out soon cause God knows she ain’t gonna take the chance and ask you.”

Angel strolls out of the lobby, leaving Alastor to brainstorm the many ways he’ll make just that happen. 

[midnight-hotel]

I was thinking of a Alastor x Reader , where the reader is a fallen angel, and was given up by god, so now that she is in Hell she doesn't know where to go. You can do whatever you want from this, impress me

//Well, I impressed myself so I hope I’ve impressed you too!

Everyone had heard of God’s new plan. It was the biggest thing to happen in Heaven since the day word spread about the ‘Happy Hotel’ down in Hell. A rehabilitation centre for sinners wasn’t such a bad idea thanks to the population issue down there but it was also a ridiculous notion because, well… souls were sent down there for a reason. Now, you had never been human, so you were no expert on whether or not demons deserved a second chance, but unlike the princess of hell, you’d been given the chance to observe the behaviour of human beings and had yet to form an opinion on the matter. Not a proper one at least. However, you did not see demon’s worth so much as to have God banish an angel down to hell for all eternity to see if they can make any impact. It would be one thing to just send an angel down there, but it had been made clear that they needed someone expendable. An angel they could afford to lose should they be killed down there in hell.

That hardly sit well in your stomach and when you saw the arch angel Michael fly into the city centre with news of who would be sent down to hell, you spread your wings and took off to get closer. Whose life were they about to ruin? Angels all around you murmured softly between each other, watching closely as Michael gazed around as if looking for the ‘chosen one’. Everyone waited with bated breath until a name was finally uttered from the Angel’s plump lips.

“Amethyst Hearth.”

The name almost seemed to echo despite the softness of his strong voice and within moments, the crowd parted to show the young angel, a woman who had hardly been in heaven three years. From what you had head, she had been a single, teen mother. A young girl who had been taken advantage of in her youth but did her best to make a decent life for herself and her child. Unfortunately, she died in an accident of some sort.

“N-No! No, please, I couldn’t possibly survive down there!” The woman practically cried, taking stumbled steps back, trying to put more distance between herself and Michael as if that would make any difference to her fate. No one dared speak up, for no one wanted to defy the will of God.

“You’ll be serving our father more than you ever could have here in heaven. Don’t you see, you’ve been chosen, out of millions of angels, god’s children, to do this deed. To make a difference,” Michael’s soft voice spoke, reaching all ears without much effort. Crystal like tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as the angel shook her head, spreading her wings to get ready to fly away, only for a couple angels to finally step in and grab her arms.

“No! Let go of me! I don’t want to! I’ll die!”

You could feel your pulse increasing and clenched your fists to refrain from speaking. This was wrong, beyond wrong, but who were you to defy God’s wishes? He knew all, did he not? Yet you found yourself doubting him more and more as Amethyst struggled to escape. At war with yourself, you caved, spreading your large white wings and giving a single, strong flap, taking you over everyone else before landing once more, between Michael and the young girl. How could you, an angel of over three hundred years, allow such a young angel to suffer.

“Arch Angel Michael, you can’t do this!” You declared firmly, hands trembling lightly but standing strong. “I don’t see why God can’t just send an angel, an exterminator perhaps, down into hell to do his work? Why take someone’s halo from them? Their grace? It’s insanity!” Murmurs started back up at your sudden defence, familiar faces backing further into the crowd so they didn’t have to watch someone they knew make a fool of themselves. “I love God, he is my beloved father, but I can not stand by and watch this young woman lose even more after only dying recently. She stands no chance down there.”

“Miss (L/N), I would hold my tongue if I were you. If you continue to defy god, I cannot be held accountable for what may come next,” Michael warned you, fingers twitching by his side, ready to summon his holy weapon if you were to lash out. Your own hand longed for the comfort of your own holy weapon but you refrained from summoning it out of fear for what Michael may do to you.

“I will not let God or anyone else strip this angel of her halo without good reason. Send an exterminator,” you insisted, narrowing your eyes at your superior, holding up your brave front as best as you could but you could not deny the absolute terror prompting your heart to beat fast enough to harm had you been a regular human being.

You held Michael’s gaze, unwavering until you saw his tense body relax as a sigh escaped his lungs.

“Very well, Father has accepted. We will send an exterminator. Enjoy your time in Hell (Y/N) (L/N).”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in horror. What? Gasps were heard from all around before you no longer felt God’s comforting warmth around you and the sensation of falling filled your very being. Oh, you were falling. No matter how hard you fought to spread your wings and catch yourself, you still plummeted. It hurt, no, it burned and after what seemed like eternity, you crashed.

Your body collided with a tall standing building, dropping through floor after floor and continuing a few feet after you hit the ground. The building soon followed, crumbling to the ground around your fallen from, unable to move out of the way. Yet nothing landed on you. With your arms and wings spread out, you stared up at the red sky above, dark yet somehow bringing light… Up, way above, was a white dot, much like the sun as it shone down on the earth, only now it was taunting you, reminding you of where you no longer were.

“Why have you forsaken me Father? Was I not right for protecting my fellow angels?” you barely whispered, the taste of blood finally reaching your tongue. You would heal in due time… nothing to fear. No, what you had to fear were the demons slowly making their way around you, gazing into the crater you had created with your ungraceful fall. Guess that’s what happens when you have your grace ripped away from you.

“Is that an angel?”

“What’s an angel doing in hell?”

“They don’t look like an exterminator. Fuck it, let’s take their wings.”

“Heh, you can have the wings, I’m after their halo.”

Voices chimed from all around you and all you could do was watch in a panic as you willed your body to move. You may not have had your halo anymore but you sure as hell weren’t going to let these demons take your wings! Your fingers twitched as the demons pushed each other around to get to you first, pulling weapons on each other despite knowing they could hardly kill each other without a holy weapon. Speaking of… You managed to close your fist and summoned your exterminator’s spear. Having the familiar weapon in your hands gave a wave of comfort to your sore body and an even bigger wave of energy.

While everyone was distracted with fighting each other off, you grunted, pushing yourself off the ground with the help of your spear to prevent you from going back over. It seemed everyone had noticed you stand up, shaking dirt and rubble out of your huge wings as an exterminator’s mask glitched over your face, crack running down the crossed-out eye as it struggled to stay activated. Perfect, a glitching mask. Just what you needed.

“Back off,” you growled, taking on a defensive stance, very aware of the fact that you were surrounded, and horribly wounded. The extent of your injuries could be figured out later, for now, you needed to get out of the open and find a place to hide out. You pulled your wings in tight against your back as all weapons were turned on you from those who hadn’t run off the moment your mask glitched into place. Good, a lot of them were smart enough not to mess with an exterminator. Well, ex-exterminator but they didn’t have to know that now did they?

Heart in your throat and pounding in your ears, you put up the fight of your life. So many demons usually feared exterminators, but many of these fools refused to back down, perhaps believing that they had a chance against a lone angel. You’d be ashamed to admit they were almost right, but luck seemed to be on your side, as you cut another demon down and dashed out of there, running down alleyways, running across empty streets and eventually finding yourself in an abandoned building, barely standing from ears of abuse. You recognised it, much to your own surprise, as a place you have been to before. You’d chased a demon here once. Killed them right in the corner you were sitting in, out of breath and body trembling from pain and fear. You hadn’t trembled so badly since your first extermination. Hell was a scary place, especially when you’ve never been there before. You’ve been here hundreds of times now, only this was your first time alone and with no clear way home.

Your heart didn’t slow all that much, your body too tense to possibly relax any time soon, but your breathing got better, much to the relief of your aching chest. Now calming down and somewhat safe, you uncurled and rid yourself of your mask, but kept your spear by your side. Just in case you needed to defend yourself again – but you weren’t so sure just how well you’d hold up in another fight so soon, so you could only pray that you were safe.

You stretched one of your wings out, curling it around yourself to inspect the damage, finding shards of glass stuck within the feathers and embedded in your wings, staining the once pure white feathers red. That was going to take a while to wash out… You heaved out a sigh and plucked out the shards of glass, causing your wounds to bleed some more but not dangerously. You did the same to the other wing and finally, felt yourself starting to relax when you realised that your wings weren’t broken, just damaged. They’d heal within time; you would be fine.

“Those are some nasty injuries you have there my dear! Why, I’d say you’ve had quite the fall,” a distorted voice suddenly spoke from one of the awfully dark corners of the room. Lifting your head quickly, you searched for the source of the voice, only to find two red, glowing orbs staring right back at you. How hadn’t you noticed them when you came inside?! No- they weren’t in here when you arrived, they had followed you. You quickly reached out for your spear, only for it to slap back down onto the hard ground as a dress shoe clad foot stepped down on it.

“Now, now, let’s not cause a scene, shall we? After the show you just put on, I doubt you’re in any shape to be taking anyone on any time soon,” he chided, kneeling down before you.

A tall man dressed in a red pin-striped suit, bright red and black hair and… hey would you look at that, he was a deer demon… and unfortunately, you recognised him. Exterminators typically knew a lot about those who roamed around in hell. For example, you could name a good number of the overlords, such as the man before you now, grin ever present on his face.

“Radio Demon…” you murmured, making his grin stretch wider as amusement shone in his eyes.

“My, the little angel knows who I am~” he hummed, grabbing your chin in a firm grip, turning your head this way and that as if to take a good look at you.

“You’re going to kill me then?” you questioned, your own (E/C) eyes staring intensely back into his. You were terrified, no doubt about that, but if you were going to die, then you would die fighting. The demon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, no, no, darling! Quite the opposite actually, I’m here to offer you a helping hand!” he declared, standing back up and making a microphone appear in his hand as he stepped off of your spear. Taking this as your chance, you picked it up and stood, holding your weapon defensively, pointed right at his chest.

“I hardly doubt you could help me demon. Now leave me alone before I end your sorry existence right here and now,” you warned him, hoping he’d just back down and maybe come back later. When you could actually stand a chance against him. He merely chuckled again, beginning to piss you off.

“Couldn’t I now? Not even if I offered you a 100% safe place to stay and assistance with your injuries?” he inquired with a raised brow.

You couldn’t afford to believe him. He was a demon, a liar, there was no way he wanted to help you out.

“How can I possibly trust you? Demon’s don’t do nice things for the sake of others, so what do you want?”

Alastor sighed but his smile never faded as he turned around and started to walk towards the exit of the building.

“I never said I was doing this from the good of my heart and what I want hardly matters either. It’s up to you if you trust me or not, but I’d remember where you are quickly. Not many here in hell are going to be so generous.”

So, what else was there to do but follow? After all, at this rate, you were going to die anyway. You never would have imagined that he would lead you to the very Hotel that started this ordeal in the first place.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

King Cake (2/12/2021)

Alastor sends a hostage letter to Sir Pentious @hiss-and-vinegar​ letting him know that his king cake is ready. Sir Pentious boldly tracks down Alastor at his secret lair (the hotel he hangs out at every single day) to retrieve the hostage cake.

They hang out in the kitchen, chat, and hatch a dastardly plot to break into another ring of Hell and steal scrap metal.

And there’s an exciting surprise at the end!! You should read it! It’s exciting!!!

Alastor

There's a pompous trumpet fanfare out of nowhere to call attention to a small portal opening up in midair, just in time for a folded paper to drop through.

Unfolded, there's a Polaroid of a chocolaty-looking Bundt cake with careful stripes of gold colored sugar, with the tip of a knife looming threateningly over the innocent cake. The polaroid is paper clipped to a letter made of words cut and pasted from a newspaper, reading: "meet me tonight or the cake gets it !"

The letter is signed with Alastor's KTRD stamp, which begs the question of why he took the time to cut up a newspaper rather than just write the letter himself.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious knows exactly why Alastor did it this way. Because he's EXTRA. Just like Pentious is. In fact, when Penny reads the letter, he's SNICKERING to himself.... until it's a FULL BLOWN CACKLE!

Receiving a letter? Excellent. RECEIVING A RANSOM NOTE??? HAHAAAAA!!! He LOVES IT. Their humor is based on PACKAGED BOMBS, after all. Sir Pentious slithers over to his planner, and begins jotting the information down. Just in case!!! You never know if you'll get distracted. Hee hee.

Alright Alastor, he's going to go take a bath and make sure he's all ready for tonight.

Alastor

Alastor, in all his vast wisdom, totally neglected the most important part of a hostage letter: a time and place for the hostage exchange to take place. He sort of thought that Sir Pentious would message him to arrange a pickup. Someday he'll learn not to assume anything.

At any rate, since he doesn't hear from Sir Pentious, he figures maybe he hasn't seen the letter yet or else doesn't have time to pick up the hostage tonight. If he doesn't hear from Sir Pentious by midnight Alastor will message him to make sure he got the note and that he didn't misinterpret it as a real threat instead of a joke, but in the meantime he distracts himself with hotel business and his other Mardi Gras plans.

Sir Pentious

Yep, it never even dawned on Sir Pentious to just... message him. Likely that meant to meet at the Hotel! Isn't that where Alastor often hung out anyway? It was just easier to meet there anyway, with its strange dimensional ways.

When the time comes, he's slithering into the lobby, still wearing his usual outfit. Should he have dressed up? WELL, there was nothing about dressing up so... Anyway here he is, tongue flicking and all. Slimther slimther.

Alastor

It's not going to be hard to find Alastor—just follow the sound of accordions and loud French singing. He's been playing almost nothing but this song for over a week. Seriously, he's got a dozen different versions of this song.

He's taken over the hotel lounge with various sewing junk: colorful fringes made of scrap fabric, scissors, half-hemmed squares of fabric. At the moment, he's attaching strings of pearls to a fancy-looking dark blue-green coat.

Sir Pentious

Oh! Look at THAT! His eyes widen, ALL of them, and he *beams*, all of his sharp yellow teeth gleaming. A party! Le Carnaval est commencé! He's going to slither in more fully, as he takes in a *deep breath*.....

"*JOYEUX CARNAVAL, MON AMI!!!*" Yes, nothing like screaming during festivities.

Alastor

Alastor starts and jumps out of his seat—oh, Sir Pentious is *here*—and hollers back, "Joyeux carnival!" Why is he hollering, they're in the same room. He tosses down his project and prances across the room to Sir Pentious, half dancing to his music before he finally stops it so they can talk properly. "Look at you, tracking me down in my secret lair—some hostage-taker I am! That'll teach me to send ransom notes."

Sir Pentious

"WELL, YOU COULD BE BETTER AT IT IF YOU INCLUDED A MEETING PLACE AND A MORE APPROXIMATE *TIME*, BUT ALL YOU SSSAID WAS MEET YOU AT MIDNIGHT! WHERE ELSE WOULD I CONCLUDE TO GO?" He lids his eyes, smirking, "ROSIE'SSSS? I THINK NOT!"

They can tease each other about that. *It's allowed.* He straightens his posture and gestures about, "YOU'VE DONE A VERY GOOD JOB DECORATING! BUT I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED AS MUCH FROM A SHOWMAN SSSUCH AS YOURSSSSELF!"

Alastor

"Well—! I thought we were going to arrange a time and place. I didn't want to say 'let's meet at so-and-so,' I didn't know what your availability was. Say, what kind of a victim of a terrifying kidnapping doesn't go and *ask* when and where to meet for an exchange?" Tisk tisk.

He surveys his mess. "Oh, yes—I'm not finished. Most of this decoration is for *me*, believe it or not!" He picks up a battered leather coat, onto one side of which he's messily sewn about half of the colorful fringes that are scattered around the room; and then tosses it back down. "I always start preparing too late, I never figure out what I'm doing for Mardi Gras until the last minute!"

There's a ding like an elevator arriving. "Ah! But you're not here for costumes, you're here for a cake!"

Sir Pentious

.... OH it's for a COSTUME? And here Sir Pentious thought Alastor was decorating.... He kind of looks sheepish a moment, then clears his throat. The reminder of cake has him smiling again.

"YES!! I ENJOYED THE PHOTOGRAPH VERY MUCH, IT LOOKSSS TASTY. I AM EAGER TO TRY IT."

Alastor

"Then by all means!" He leads Sir Pentious toward the kitchen.

"Do you want to try it here? Hard to play the whole king cake game without enough participants to eat the whole thing at once, but! There's no reason you can't eat it bit by bit, really."

Sir Pentious

.... He makes a face......................

"I DON'T WANT TO *SHARE* MY CAKE....." Squint, "I WILL EAT IT WITH *YOU*, BUT IT'SSS MY CAKE!" A real gentleman, truly.

Alastor

"All right! It might take you a few days to find the winning slice, then. But hey! That guarantees you'll be the one to get it!" It's not the traditional way to play, but they're celebrating a Catholic holiday in Hell, who gives a fuck about tradition.

Sir Pentious

Who gives a FUCK indeed. He purrs, and gives Alastor's shoulder a *squeeze.*

"I IMAGINE IT MUSSST HAVE BEEN DIFFICULT TO MATCH MY SPECIFICATIONSSS, BUT YOU WOULD BE THE MAN TO DO IT!"

Alastor

He leans into the squeeze and beams at the praise. "I worked it out! It *was* a challenge, but I'm proud of the results! Just don't eat the cake in the dark."

Sir Pentious

Blink.

"WHY? THAT SSSOUNDSSS OMINOUSS."

Alastor

"What, do you want me to ruin the surprise?" The sweetest, most innocent smile.

He manages to maintain it for a couple of seconds before he cracks and laughs at himself. "Ha! No, I'm kidding, I haven't done anything to it, there's nothing you need to worry about—but you *do* need to eat it with the lights on."

Sir Pentious

He makes a RATTLING sound, face VERY close to Alastor's before he pulls back, "YOU GOT MY HOPESSS UP FOR SSSOMETHING, ALASSSTOR! BUT A TASSSSTY TREAT WILL HAVE TO DO. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE SSSOME WITH ME? I HAVEN'T BROUGHT ANYTHING MYSELF."

Alastor

"I don't tamper with friends' food." He tilts up his chin, as if turning his nose up at the very *thought* of such a thing.

Here's the kitchen and there's the cake, under a little lid to keep it fresh; he removes the lid with a flourish. It looks like the picture. Sans the knife hanging over it. "Oh, maybe a bite or two if you don't want your whole slice, but I don't really like cake." Says the guy who's been constantly baking cakes for the last week and a half. "Anyway! It's designed to be cut into eight sections, you can see from the ridges formed by the cake pan. Take whatever slice you want."

Sir Pentious

Hmmm.... Alastor doesn't like cake! Penny squints at him.

"YOU KNOW WHY YOU DON'T LIKE CAKE? BECAUSE YOU DON'T LIKE TEA. IF YOU LIKED TEA, YOU'D BE MORE CULTURED." He's got the shit eating GRIN. THIS MAN IS IN A GOOD MOOD.

He takes a plate, then a slice.... What does this cake taste like? Time to take a bite and find out!

Alastor

"Oh, is that the reason! Is that why it is! That's the cause and effect chain, enjoying tea causes you to enjoy cake." He elbows Sir Pentious lightly as he passes on the way to a cabinet. "You're lucky I'm not cultured, then. It's more cake for you." He grabs a bag of homemade jerky out of a cabinet—see, he's eating something too—and plops down in a chair near Sir Pentious.

The cake is, unsurprisingly, chocolate—but with a slight citrusy flavor mixed in. Although it was clearly made in a Bundt cake pan, Alastor took the trouble to slice it in half and add an extra layer of chocolate frosting in the middle, with additional colored sugar dyed black mixed into the frosting that makes it shimmer a little.

Alastor watches intensely as Sir Pentious takes his first few bites of the cake; but he loses interest after a few seconds and monches his jerky.

Sir Pentious

Alastor losing interest in watching Pentious eat? THE NERVE!

Sir Pentious is DELIGHTED by the flavor, and he's actually humming out "Mmmm"s as he eats it, eyes closed in pleasantness.

He's doing that thing where he rubs a cheek while he chews. Yumby.

Alastor

HAHA NEVER MIND it's cute and now he's interested again. "I take it you like it!"

Sir Pentious

"I DO, YOU ALWAYSSSS FIND A WAY TO OUTDO YOURSELF. HOW DID YOU COME BY THESE INGREDIENTSSSSS? HAVE HELP SSSSECURING THEM?" He gently dabs ( <:dab:618107764211712020> ) a napkin to his mouth.

Alastor

"All box mix, actually! Chocolate and lemon. I got them at one of those upscale grocery stores where the demon nobility goes, they've got a fairly well-stocked section of mortal realm imports. It just takes a couple of substitutions from the box recipe."

Sir Pentious

"HMMMM.... BOX RECIPES, HMMM...." He's going to eat more of his slice. It is rather filling.

"WE SHOULD HAVE TEA! OR, *I* SHOULD HAVE TEA."

Alastor

On his feet! "We've got *some* running around. What kind?" He opens a cabinet and pushes aside like five varieties of coffee looking for tea behind it.

Sir Pentious

"EARL GREY." He swivels his head to watch Alastor dig around.

Alastor

“Earl Grey,” Alastor muttered. He shoved aside a half dozen boxes of herbal tea. “Ah-ha! Here we are!” He retrieved the tea triumphantly, then went looking for the other supplies they’d need.

Once he had the water heating on the stove, he plopped down next to Sir Pentious again. “What teas *do* you like? Besides Earl Grey.”

Sir Pentious

His tongue wiggles as he thinks, and he begins cutting another piece of the slice with his fork.

"ENGLISH BREAKFAST!" Prr prr prr. "HAVE YOU HAD IT? NO OF COURSE NOT. IT HAS A SWEET, ALMOST FRUITY TASTE TO IT."

Alastor

“I’ve had it! At some point. As I recall, it tasted quite a bit like tea.” He smirked. “I’m not a fan of sweetness, either.”

Sir Pentious

"BOTTOM OF THE POT, *GRAINY* BLACK COFFEE FOR YOU ONLY, EH? HOW *DO* YOU SURVIVE." Snort, "OH RIGHT! DEAD, TOO! NYAAAA HA HAAAAAAA!"

Alastor

With great dignity, Alastor said, “I drink the *highest quality* of coffee. Look at this.” He leaned back in his chair to open the cabinet and point at a coffee bag with a skull and crossbones on it. “Look at that! This is almost pure caffeine!” Studio laughter. “But seriously! I have a refined palate, and it applies as much to coffee as it does to anything else.”

Sir Pentious

"ALASSSTOR, YOU EAT PEOPLE, HOW REFINED CAN IT GET? OR IS IT SSSSIMPLY SSSO BECAUSE YOU SSSAY IT ISS?"

Alastor

“I don’t eat people because I have *low standards.* If I had low standards, I’d be willing to choke down whatever hellish fauna’s ground-up offal is used to make the patties in fast food joints.” He sticks out his tongue, bleh. “I eat people because my standards are *high.* The simple fact is that quality ingredients are hard to get in Hell, and meat is no exception! Hell’s native game is *incredibly* difficult to hunt—and not particularly delectable, at that. Imported meat is expensive, rare, and often spoiled when you get it from the long trip to Hell. On the other hand, sinner meat is flavorful, *much* easier to hunt, self-replenishing, and comes in varieties that taste very similar to familiar mortal domesticated animals. I’ve *discussed* it on my *blog.*” He says this all self-importantly.

Sir Pentious

HEE HEEEEEE! He's giggling to himself while Alastor goes on his rant. It IS very informative, and he's certain he's read that before.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! THOUGH ONLY IN HELL COULD IT BE ARGUED IN THAT MANNER! CANNIBALS ARE NOT WELL REGARDED IN THE LIVING WORLD."

Alastor

“Well of course not, cannibals in the living world kill people! Cannibals in Hell only *inconvenience* people.” He started counting off on his fingers: “Now, granted, almost all the premortem cannibals I’ve talked to have been Americans—that’s what you’ve got in the area—but generally they were eating people for one of four reasons: starvation; hatred; a fetish; or Catholicism.” Studio laughter. “That’s a communion joke for you—but the first three reasons stand. Plenty of postmortem cannibals started for one of those three reasons, sure—but more than you’d think got into it for the culinary convenience of it! Especially if they’re buying from the butcher instead of doing the hunting themselves.”

Sir Pentious

Alastor you probably intended that communion joke to be a fly by or maybe a light chortle, but Sir Pentious was also a catholic, and instead of just snorting, he launches into a full fledged WAAAAAH HAHAHAAAAAAA at the joke.

"*CATHOLICISM!!!!*" Look at him clap his hands together. Glee. He loves a groaner.

Alastor

He politely pauses for the uproarious laughter. A comedian is never going to complain when his audience finds his joke *more* funny than he expected them to—especially if he’s performing in front of his favorite audience.

Sir Pentious

Don't mind him, wiping tears from his eyes at that one. Fuck catholics!

"APOLOGIESSS, YOU WERE SSSAYING?"

Alastor

“Oh... I didn’t have anything to add to the point. Just the differences between antemortem and postmortem cannibalism.” A shrug.

He takes advantage of the slight lull in the conversation to hover over a teapot and the box of Earl Grey to set in front of Sir Pentious. Here, dump your own tea in, Alastor sucks at tea prep.

Sir Pentious

He's going to do just that, humming as he does. None of that 10 second steeping!!! DISGUSTING..

Once the bags are in, be gets back to finishing off his slice. No prizes in that one!

Alastor

And Alastor returns to his jerky. Ah, a moment of peaceful, companionable silence—haha just kidding. When it’s obvious neither of them is about to say something else, Alastor starts playing a peppy march.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is *happy* for it, though he attempts to change the channel by flicking Al's ear tuft.

Alastor

That’s not a dial, but he gets what Sir Pentious is attempting to do. The music switches from a march to the Mysterious Axman’s Jazz.

Sir Pentious

PREFERABLE.

Sir Pentious purrs, and once the tea has brewed long enough, he's going to pour himself a cup.

And then DIP some cake in it, HEE HOO we're living wildly.

Alastor

"I see why a tea-drinking man of *culture* also eats cake. So they go together, do they?”

Sir Pentious

"OH, SHUT UP, BEAN GUZZLER." Says the Leaf Drinker. He's laughing.

Alastor

“Oh, am I the one here who consumes beans! Where do you think chocolate comes from?” He’s laughing too.

Sir Pentious

"*COFFEE* BEAN GUZZLER!!! BUT, AH, TOUCHE."

He's done eating cake for now, and he's sipping the rest of the tea. He can handle the bits of crumb, he did this to himself.

"SSSO AFTER THISSSS, BACK TO YOUR COSTUME MAKING?"

Alastor

A long, *long* tired sigh. “Probably. I’ve only got—it’s still Friday, right?” He tilts his head, as if he’s *listening* for the time. “Yes, Friday—so, two days until the ball that one costume’s for. And the fancier costume, at that. Although I might need a break, my productivity is plummeting.”

Sir Pentious

Tongue flick.

"OHHH, DON'T YOU WISH YOU WERE A SNAKE LIKE ME? MY MIND CONSTANTLY IN A STATE OF *FLUX* OVER IDEAS AND INSSSSSPIRATION!" HEEHOOHEE

Alastor

“Ideas, I’ve got. It’s the inspiration I’m missing. Inspiration and patience for the repetitive bits. I’ve been sewing pearls for *days.*” He laces his fingers to stretch his poor aching hands and mutters, “I should delegate this.”

A bright smile! “Is that your way of subtly hinting that you’ve got some recent inspiration you’re dying to share, or are you going to disappoint me?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he HAS inspiration alright. He leans in closer, his Pentious Breath right in Al's face.

"YESSS, INDEED. YOU SSEEE, I'VE COME INTO A SSSPOT OF *KNOWLEDGE.* I'VE HEARD THAT LOO LOO LAND, YOU KNOW, THE AMUSEMENT PARK IN THE GREED RING? IT'SSS BEEN BLOWN TO SSSMITHEREENSSS. LOTSSS OF METAL JUSSST FOR THE *TAKING.* WHILE I HAVE IDEASSS, I DON'T HAVE MUCH TERRITORY AND ACCESS TO METALSSS IN HELL." He sits back, "ALASSS, I'VE NO WAY TO *GET* TO THE DAMN PLACE. NOT ENOUGH POLITICAL SSSWAY, AS IT WERE. NOT SSSINCE I ARRIVED IN HELL, ANYWAY."

Alastor

Smells like tea and cake.

Alastor blinks in surprise. "Lucifer's park?" Who would fuck with Lucifer's park—? "Oh, no—Greed ring. The knock off."

That sounds like a solvable problem. Alastor leans forward, chin propped up in his hand, grinning wider. "Well, I wouldn't be much of a dancer if I didn't have sway!"

His mind is already working—what's an amusement park going to have in it? Roller coasters? Elaborate moving games? Lots of good mechanical bits and bobs, no doubt. And this Sir Pentious isn't the only one Alastor knows who'd benefit from those supplies. "If I get you in there, I get to salvage anything *you* don't want. Sound fair?"

Sir Pentious

"WELL, YESSS, NOT LYU LYU LAND. LOO LOO LAND!"

HMMMM? He leans closer. Their faces could be TOUCHING.

"AND WHAT NEED HAVE YOU FOR SSSSSCRAP, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

“*Lyu Lyu.*” Wheeze. Is that how it’s pronounced? “*I* don’t need it. But the other you that’s been around lately does, and I promised I’d help him get fresh materials at a discount. No better discount than free!”

Their faces ARE touching. Alastor closes the last little distance to squish their cheeks together and flings an arm around Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “Now, this is your little expedition—you’re putting in the research and the labor, so of course you get first pick, I’m not going to ask you to hand over any of the good stuff to an alternate who isn’t even coming along. But! Anything you *don’t* want, I don’t see any harm in hauling it over to him and asking whether he can make use of it!”

Sir Pentious

Ah, the CHEEK SMOOSH. Cheeks can smoosh other cheeks!!! Sir Pentious puts his own arm around Alastor, and Grins wide.

"AH, WHAT A *GOOD SSSSAMARITAN* YOU ARE, ALASSSTOR!" Hee hoo. His tongue flicks in thought..... No maybe don't tease him right now.

"VERY WELL, THEN! WHATEVER I DON'T WANT, YOU CAN HAVE! ANOTHER QUESTION IS METHOD OF *RETRIEVAL.* ARE WE RELYING ON YOUR FRIEND HENTAI FOR THAT?"

Alastor

“You know me! Utterly selfless! The most helpful man you’ll meet!” He knows he’s left himself wide open for teasing. He’s very grateful Sir Pentious didn’t take the opportunity.

“With the airship still out of commission, I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” He pokes Sir Pentious, “That’ll be the other way you pay me—bring snacks for me. Working with Hentai is hungry work.”

Sir Pentious

SNORT.

"WHAT TO BRING FOR THE MAN WHO HATES EVERYTHING! NO SWEETS, NO TEA! ONLY FISTFULS OF MEAT!"

Alastor

A scandalized hand over his heart. “Sweet and tea are the *only* things I hate! Have you ever seen me turn down one of your sandwiches? *Really,* now.” He pokes Sir Pentious’s arm. “Are you just having fun at my expense, or do you really think my tastes are that limited?”

Sir Pentious

"WHY *ALASSSTOR*, WHEN HAVE I *EVER* HAD FUN AT YOUR EXPENSE?" He's saying it ever so dramatically, very sarcastic as he even winks AND nudges him.

"SSSSANDWICHESSS IT ISSSS. SSSTILL NO ALCOHOL, MMM?"

Alastor

The most *dramatic* eye roll. He arches his brows and tilts his head to get more eye rolling in.

“Oh, social drinks are fine right now—but I don’t think alcohol mixes well with moving heavy metal or communing with eldritch deities. Maybe once our work is finished.”

Sir Pentious

He's beaming suddenly, and he gives Al a KISS on the forehead before backing up.

"A *DEAL!* ALTHOUGH, I MAY REFRAIN FROM ALCOHOL AS WELL. PERHAPSSSS GINGEMBRE INSSSTEAD!" GOLLY he's in a good mood. Look at him smiling!

Alastor

Hold on, give Alastor a second, fireworks are going off behind his forehead and he’s trying to enjoy the show.

“What is that, some kind of ginger ale?” His brain translates *gingembre* as plain old *ginger,* and he doubts Sir Pentious is suggesting that a chunk of root is an adequate substitute for alcohol. “Sure! We can drink while we work that way.”

Sir Pentious

Prrr prrr.

"YESSS, GINGER ALE! I HAVE A REFRIGERATOR ABOARD THE AIRSHIP, KEEPSSSS THEM PRACTICALLY *FROZEN.* YOUR LIPSSS WILL SSSTICK TO THE BOTTLES, NYA HA HAAAAAAA!"

He's finished off his tea! Pours himself another cup...

Alastor

Static static.

“Now that sounds like a trap! I guess the only way to find out for sure is to try one, isn’t it!”

He gives Sir Pentious enough space to drink his tea—but, as long as he’s already over here, decides to keep leaning their shoulders together.

Sir Pentious

He's fine with this, he's still purring in that terrifying way. Habby.

"SSSO WHO ARE YOU DANCING WITH TO GET US INTO THE GREED RING, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

“Oh, I’ve got a few people I can call on! I hear Paimon’s been looking for a way to spite Mammon; Stolas is usually pretty lax with sinners, he’s easy to bargain with; perhaps Tommy, he owes me one... I’ll narrow it down!”

Sir Pentious

HMM! Exciting. Sir Pentious is about to SPEAK when his phone VIBRATES against his breast. OH!

Time to grab his phone and INVESTIGATE....

Alastor

Time to lean over and EAVESDROP.

Sir Pentious

Well, he's obscured the screen enough from Alastor, but....

```Congratulations on your imminent fatherhood, Sir Pentious. Please come collect your wife at your earliest convenience. Which had better be now.```

OH. OH. GASP. JELLY EYES. All of his eyes are JELLY EYES. Look at this man, he's looking like he might COLLAPSE!

"*OHHHH* I HAVE TO *GOOOO*!"

He's STILL holding the phone but, YOU KNOW. He's going to show the screen to Alastor, listen that's his best friend he wants him to KNOW!

Alastor

*Oh!!* Alastor grabbed Sir Pentious’s arm. “*Really* this time? Not unfertilized eggs?”

Sir Pentious

"REALLY, THISSSS TIME!" *SNIRFFF.*

"WE WEREN'T SURE, BUT HILDA ISS RATHER THOROUGH...." His voice is all SQUEAKY.

"I'M GOING TO BE A DADDY!!"

Alastor

Alastor squeezed an arm around Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “Well, *congratulations!* Oh, you must be *thrilled!* How many is it?” He had to raise his voice to be audible over the cacophony of invisible party noisemakers and an old song that started singing in the background: “—*pretty baby! Won't you come and let me rock you in my cradle of love, and we'll cuddle all the time. Oh I want a lovin' baby and it might as well be you, pretty baby of mine—*”

After a good long squeeze, he let go and swatted Sir Pentious’s arm. “What are you still doing here, you’re supposed to be with your wife! Go, get! Get out of here! Take your cake!”

Sir Pentious

He BEAMS, Sir Pentious is GIGGLING. How many?

He goes red faced, raising a finger to speak, UNTIL HE'S BEING SWATTED! "OH, YESSS, AT ONCE! AT ONCE!"

He gathers up the cake! And he gives a TIP of his hat to Alastor before he's HURRIEDLY slithering out the door!

... Peeks back in. "THISSSS ISSS JUSST THE CONFIRMATION, BY THE BY! NO EGGSSS YET! OKAY, TA TA!" The door closes!!

Alastor

He waves. “Give Valera my congratulations!”

The music slowly peters out once the door closes.

... Hold on, how were there no eggs yet if Valera was already pregnant? He should have asked. Whoops.

[jetsetlife138]

prompt no. 14,15, and 19 for Sadistic/Obsessive! Alastor x Fem!Reader?

14) “I’m gonna end up breaking your little heart in two.”

15) “I still remember the way you tasted.”

19) “This is my nightmare.”

Pairing: Sadistic / Obsessive!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Cannibalism

You stirred uncomfortably, slowly starting to regain consciousness. You mind was groggy and clouded with confusion as you tried to remember where you were. Swallowing hard, you inhaled deeply before prying your eyes open where you were greeted by an unwelcoming bright light. It was then you realized that you were sprawled out on a soft surface, restricted by restraints. 

Allowing your eyes to adjust, you discovered that you were in a bedroom and you had been confined to a bed. There didn’t appear to be any windows; only a single door, which was closed.Weakly, you pulled at the ropes binding you to the bedposts to no avail. Glancing down at your body, you were shocked to discover that you were no longer in your own clothes, but had been dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and shorts. Holy shit. You had been kidnapped. In Hell. To be fair, you should have known that this could be a possibility. After all, you were in Hell. Pretty much anything was legal, including kidnapping. But to think that it would ever happen to you was unfathomable. 

 A loud knock at the door startled you. “Hello! Darling? Are you awake?”

 Without a reply, your captor entered the room. Aaaaand, fuck. It was the Radio Demon… or Alastor, as very few knew him as. One of the most powerful beings that Hell had ever seen. Your hopes in getting out of here alive had just been eradicated. “Good morning!” he beamed when he saw that you were finally cognizant. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was actually morning considering there weren’t any windows and you had been knocked out for an unknown amount of time.The demon walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. You swallowed hard as you noticed the hungry look stirring in his blood-red eyes. Alastor bit his bottom lip as he gazed over your body before stretching out his arm to reach under your loose t-shirt to stroke your stomach with his sharp nails. Your breath hitched as you flinched away from the unexpected contact with Alastor’s fingers.

Alastor’s seemingly permanent smile widened as he enjoyed the feeling of your skin underneath the pads of his fingers. “Have a nice nap?” he asked gently, still raking his nails lightly across your tummy. It was difficult for the demon to focus considering he was absolutely mesmerized by your beauty. He could hardly believe that after all this time, he was freely touching the girl he adored so much. He tilted his head subtly, concentrating on the way your chest slowly rose and fell with each nervous breath. 

Alastor continued to stare at you, waiting for any kind of response and sighed when you failed to speak. “You know, I’d appreciate it if you would talk to me, sweetheart. I know you’re confused right now, but that’s no reason to be rude.”

You didn’t know what you could possibly say. It felt as though anything you said would make your situation worse. Alastor was clearly mentally unstable and dangerous. Trying to keep your voice steady, you addressed him cautiously. “I’m sorry,” you croaked out, voice still groggy from drowsiness. “I just… um… I don’t understand why I’m here. I’m sure people are wondering where I am. They’re going to be looking for me.”

 Alastor met your assumption with a smirk and replied, “Oh, darling, don’t think about that right now. You and I are the only two creatures that exist within the nine Circles of Hell, and that’s how it’s going to be for a while.”

 “H-how long is a while?”

Without altering his expression or faltering in his grin,Alastor’s feather-light touches across your belly turned painful as he dug his nails into the soft, sensitive flesh. You hissed in pain while Alastor hastily removed his hand, clearly unhappy.

 “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked in a sickly sweet voice, contradictory to his smile. 

Swallowing hard, you started to shake involuntarily. You had been doing so well in keeping your stress and panic under control, but with the way that Alastor was looking at you, you felt your strength fading. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply in fear of how your answer might trigger Alastor further.

Alastor wasn’t going to let that slide. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be infatuated with someone, my dear?” he asked his object of affection with a challenging stare. His red eyes were blazing and you wanted to sink lower into the bed to get as much distance between yourself and Alastor’s frightening demeanor as possible.

In a falsely sweet voice, Alastor continued, “No? Allow me to enlighten you. It’s like suffocating. Your love for this creature is so great that it often feels like you cannot breathe. You are utterly unable to think about anything else and every decision you make is based on them. It can wreck someone such as myself, causing us to do terrible things.” 

Now panicking, you attempted to sputter out an apology. “I-I’m sorry, s-sir. I don’t-”

 “No, sweetheart, you’re not,” Alastor snapped, cutting you off. “But you will be.”

Your shaking became more prevalent as Alastor got up from the bed. It was a struggle to try and keep your panicked breathing under control but you knew that there was really no use in trying to put on a brave face. You were terrified.

“I’m gonna end up breaking your little heart in two,” Alastor promised, a sinister gleam in his eyes. 

The demon then took it upon himself to lift up and straddle your hips. “So, my darling… are you ready to begin?” 

 You hesitated before replying, “B-begin what?”“I still remember the way you tasted…” Alastor thought aloud to himself, ignoring your question as he licked his lips at a distant memory.Fighting back tears, you asked. “What the hell are you talking about?” Snapping out of his daze, Alastor’s eyes flickered to your own. “You don’t recall, do you?” he questioned. Shaking your head in response, you were nervous to hear what he had remembered that you hadn’t. “When you first arrived here in Hell, you were a bloodied mess,” he began as he gripped the collar of your shirt in his hands. “I couldn’t help myself. You smelled so divine. I needed your blood inside of me.” 

The Radio Demon then pulled on the fabric of your shirt, ripping it down the middle to expose your chest. You yelped at the sudden aggressive action, not expecting that at all. Licking his lips with longing, Alastor took a moment to allow his eyes to wander over your skin. It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check with you so easily accessible.

 “Alastor, please,” you begged, thinking of anything that you could possibly say to dissuade Alastor from whatever it was that he had planned. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Hush now, darling. We’re just getting started,” Alastor insisted.

 Keeping true to his promise, without warning, Alastor then leaned in and bit down directly over your collarbone. You shuddered violently, but you didn’t scream. Alastor would have praised your self-control had he not been so mesmerized by your blood filling his mouth and seeping down onto the bed. Lifting slightly, he ran his tongue over the wound, making you hiss in pain when he dug the tip of his tongue into the bleeding flesh.

For the next fifteen minutes, Alastor continued to gnaw at your skin, licking and kissing over the wounds, completely enthralled with your pain tolerance and with the way you tasted. Alastor had never done anything like this before and he was so moved that he was able to share this special connection with you.

Though it was difficult, you tried as hard as you could to concentrate on anything else but the pain. There was nothing else that you could do. With every new bite ripping into your flesh, you would involuntarily convulse with the occasional “fuck” and “shit” falling from your lips at the agonizing intrusion. You were basically being eaten alive slowly and meticulously by a psychopath and you tried everything he could to distract yourself and think of anything else but the pain.

Your plan worked for awhile until you noticed Alastor making his way down to your thighs and started running his fingers over your hips. Snapping your attention back to the Radio Demon, you looked down with pleading eyes, not at all liking the idea of Alastor being near your vagina with those sharp teeth.

Alastor kneeled at the edge of the bed, his fingers ghosting over your legs, looking over his work. He had made sure not to make the bites too deep. He didn’t want to scar his obsession’s perfect body. He simply wanted to make them deep enough to show you how painful love can be and how deeply his own love ran for you.

“Alastor, please don’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want… just… Please, don’t. This is my nightmare…” The last part was meant more for yourself than for him, but you couldn’t help but speak your mind at a time like this.

Though it was difficult, you tried to keep from grimacing when Alastor crawled back up and leaned in to place a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth before shimmying down your torso and latching his fingers into the top of your shorts, tugging at them slightly. Your entire body tensed as you glanced down at Alastor, terror overcoming you. “W-what are you doing?”

 Alastor’s grin grew to an unnatural length as he met your horrified expression with an eager one of his own. “I’m going to eat you out, my dear.”

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 4 - I’m Alive

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The tournament has been announced! Hermione expresses some conflicted feelings, and Fred and George make a harrowing discovery.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 3

If I should break My silent streak Will knives come out To cut my cheek?

  Hermione couldn��t help the swell of pride in her chest at Fred’s acknowledgement of being bested. Truly, it wasn’t a thing to be proud of. There was no joy in winning a game amongst idiots. What was the muggle phrase again? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes? Either way, the last thing she ever expected to fill her with smug glee was Frederick Weasley’s approval. No. She shook her head. It wasn’t his approval that made her feel this way. It was the glorious relief of getting the prat to shut up once again, that’s what it was. But if that were true, then why was her mind drifting back to last night’s conversation and the gentle banter the two shared? She felt it then too. The glowing sense of satisfaction that he not only approved of her mental prowess when it came to the art of repartee, but that he also found amusement in it.

Unable to ponder on the thought for long, she turned her attention to Dumbledore as he announced for the year’s sorting to begin. Hermione watched as the group of frightened first years filed into the Great Hall; their eyes wide with wonder. She remembered her first moment seeing the magnificence of Hogwarts. No amount of reading had prepared her for all that the school had to offer. The sorting went by quickly, Hermione clapping and cheering politely when one of the new students joined their table. Some students, especially the Gryffindor students, got quite into the sorting, seeing it as some competition. Hermione was all for house pride, but she really didn’t see it necessary to boo when a child was placed in Slytherin or laugh when placed in Hufflepuff. Glaring over at Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins, Hermione wished they would conduct themselves with a bit more civility. Honestly, the school could do with more house unity in her opinion. Still, they acquired quite a fair number of new Gryffindors, including the Collin Creevey’s little brother who was already gawking at Harry like he was some kind of god.

Hermione snorted. She imagined they wouldn’t feel that way if they ever had to help him with his Astronomy homework.

Once the sorting ceremony was over, Dumbledore stood up again, his midnight blue robes sparkling with silver stars. Hermione always secretly wondered where he got his robes. They were the most ornate and intricate pieces she’d ever observed in the wizarding world. Surely, they didn’t sell them anywhere in Diagon Alley. At least, she never saw anything quite like them in Madame Malkin’s shop. Perhaps Twilfitt and Tatting’s. She watched as their headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles and cleared his throat.

“Good evening and welcome back to another fantastic year at Hogwarts. I would like to begin with a few announcements. First, as many of you know, the forest on the grounds is strictly prohibited to all students. Second, the wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also off limits to students below their third year or for those without permi—” Dumbledore was cut off by a loud crack of thunder and the groan of the large Great Hall doors opening. All heads turned towards the entrance, confused by the sudden interruption. What they found was a short and stalky man standing haggardly as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. A sense of unease washed across Hermione as she watched him enter the hall slowly. His long, patched robes hung heavy on him, dripping water onto the floor as he limped towards the head table. He leaned heavily on a thick, wooden staff and grunted with every step. Wet, tangled grey hair hung in his face – a face marred with thick and grotesque scars. But it wasn’t the grueling number of scars that unsettled her. It was his eyes. One eye was small, dark, and beady, while the other was a striking blue that never seemed to stop moving. It swiveled around in all directions, never focusing on one spot for long as he kept his pace towards the headmaster. As he approached, Dumbledore smiled unfazed. They shook hands briefly across the table in a familiar manner before the mysterious wizard limped to take a seat at the spot usually reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“What good timing my old friend, I was just about to introduce you!” Dumbledore exclaimed delightfully. “This year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by a very dear friend of mine, Alastor Moody. Alastor?” Dumbledore motioned to the scraggly man. Moody stood and gave a curt nod to the mass of students. A spatter of confused, yet polite applause greeted him. Hermione stared at the man speculatively. She had read about Alastor Moody. Some called him Mad-Eye Moody, which observing him now, she could see why the nickname was appointed. A famous auror and dark wizard catcher, he was renowned for his part in catching most of the known Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. However, over the past few years he had become known for his increasing paranoia. If the rumors were true, Hermione wondered if he was truly qualified to be teaching young children.

“Right! Lastly, I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that our annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year,” announced Dumbledore. His announcement was met with numerous cries of outrage from the tables of students. Some of which were most loudly emanating from Oliver Wood down the table. Hermione frowned sadly in his direction before looking to Harry and Ron who seemed equally as devastated but more entirely confused. While Hermione was disappointed for them, she couldn’t help but feel a small jolt of glee. At least she wouldn’t have to spend hours in the cold watching Harry try to kill himself on a broom.

“This is due to a very special opportunity—” Dumbledore went on “—Over the coming months, our school has the honor hosting an event that hasn’t taken place in over a century. It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be home to the Triwizard Tournament!”

“You’re joking!” Fred Weasley exclaimed, his voice ringing loud through the hall. Hermione turned to glare at him for his incredibly rude outburst, but ultimately rolled her eyes when the entirety of the hall began to laugh, including Dumbledore himself.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking,” the headmaster stated before continuing to inform them all on the history of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione of course, knew all about the tournament. There was a whole section in Hogwarts, a History dedicated to the event. While the competition was a great opportunity for selected students to show off their magical abilities, it was also quite dangerous. In fact, the whole reason the tournament hadn’t taken place in centuries was because of the overt amount of deaths it resulted in. She warried a glance at Harry across the table. This was exactly the kind of thing he would find himself mixed up in.

“I’m going for it!” she heard Fred whisper down the table. Rolling her eyes, she doubted he had half the knowledge and strength it took to win something as monumental as the Triwizard Tournament. As Dumbledore went on, the hall became restless. Student voices, excitedly discussing the tournament and all it had to offer, soon rose in volume that Hermione deemed quite inappropriate.

“Now, now, I know all of you are understandably eager to participate and win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts—” lamented Dumbledore “—however, as one of the compromises made in order to bring the tournament back, myself, the heads of the participating schools, and the Ministry of Magic have all agreed to place an age restriction on this year’s event. Only students seventeen and older will be allowed to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament. This, is something that we feel is necessary as the tasks will be incredibly difficult and will require the education and experience of older witches and wizards, to complete.”

Hermione gave a great sigh of relief at this revelation. Thank Merlin. That fact alone meant everyone she knew at Hogwarts personally was safe. Even Fred and George weren’t seventeen yet. However, looking around at the disappointed and even angry faces at her table, showed that only she was happy about the rule change. She didn’t let their disappointment ruin her mood though. Instead she listened contentedly, until next thing she knew, her was done and dinner was served.

Dinner went by uneventfully, conversation filled laments of summer trips, general gossip, and theorizing about the upcoming tournament. Hermione was thoroughly stuffed by the time the tables were magically cleared and their group departed back to Gryffindor Common room. Hermione trailed behind Harry and Ron as they walked with the twins through the halls, thinking about her classes the next day when George’s voice broke her concentration.

“You know, Freddie, I reckon we could find a way to get past whatever Dumbledore will use to enforce the age restriction,” George said enthusiastically.

“How do you suppose they’ll pick to decide who gets in or not?” Harry asked. Hermione thought that was quite a good question. In her reading, it was never explicitly stated how the competitors were chosen. It simply stated that they were.

“No idea, but it’ll be them that we have to fool—” stated Fred, his chest puffing in confidence “—I think a few drops of aging potion should do the trick.”

“But Dumbledore knows you aren’t old enough,” Ron piped up as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, but whoever is deciding doesn’t. It seems to me that they’ll just choose whoever is best from each school. Dumbledore is just trying to stop us from getting our names in is all,” George replied to his younger brother.

“And you two aren’t the least bit concerned that people have died in this competition before?” Hermione inquired, feeling irritation bubbling up below her calm façade.

“Not a bit,” the pair responded with cheeky grins.

Fred and George’s response irked Hermione quite terribly. Were they really that immune to the idea of potential imminent death? Fred definitely wasn’t – no matter what he said. She knew that for certain just from her memories of the Quidditch World Cup. He had been just as afraid as her, she saw it on his face. That fact alone gave her comfort when she continued to endure the agonizing nightmares revolving around that night. Rubbing at her eyes, she cursed at just how bloody tired she was. When she nodded off in the Weasley kitchen that night sitting across from Fred, it had been the first peaceful sleep she’d had in weeks. Unfortunately, the peace did not last long, for as soon as her head hit the pillow in Ginny’s room the nightmares were back again. However, the comforting thought that she had not been the only person scared and panicked that night reassured her that she was not overreacting. Even though everyone had all but forgotten the events of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione wanted to forget as well.

“Well if Fred and George figure out a way to enter their names, I want in,” said Ron as they sat in the common room. Upon entering the tower, Fred and George made swift exits to their room, most likely to start on their idiotic aging potion idea. It wasn’t going to work, Hermione knew that, but she doubted anything she said to them would get through their thick skulls.

“You most definitely will not Ronald Weasley!” Hermione scolded the freckle-faced boy sitting across from her in front of the fire. He rolled his eyes at her, ignoring her objection.

“Oh, come on Hermione. Everyone knows the age limit is insulting. Us three have faced loads of dark magic already. Especially Harry! You don’t think he’s capable of winning a silly little competition? Tell her Harry!” Ron looked over at Harry for support, but all the bespectacled boy could manage was a conflicted expression before Hermione responded.

“I think Harry has faced enough life-threatening situations for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’d rather you two lose the opportunity of fame and fortune, than risk your necks again. To do so would just be stupid. No one can evade death forever!” Hermione rose from her seat and stormed out, leaving the two boys to gawk at her retreating form.

Hermione huffed and puffed about her room, slamming books down and pulling on her sleep clothes more aggressively than usual. The other girls in the room continued their babble, paying her no mind as they were too engulfed in whatever the latest gossip was to care about her bad mood. She crawled into bed and drew the curtains closed, blocking out all the light from her roommates Pavarti, Lavender, and Fey. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep – to block out all the frustrations of the day and to most importantly not have nightmares. Truth be told, she shouldn’t be so upset at Ron. It was all trivial. In the end, the twins would never figure out how to enter their names into the tournament and thus neither would Ron nor Harry. This might end up being a perfectly normal year after all. There was no magical item with the ability to keep one alive forever taking up residence in the castle; there couldn’t possibly be a second mysterious chamber hidden under the school housing a deadly snake; and there wasn’t an escaped Azkaban prisoner seemingly attempting to murder her best friend – that she knew of. No, this year they would be the spectators. They would watch as three experienced and skilled students, they were not close to, risk their lives in the tournament. Maybe a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin would compete for Hogwarts. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be them and they would watch from the stands, getting a thrill from the entertainment. Then they would return to the common room, talking about who they thought would win. They would study hard and pass their classes. They would end the year happy and safe, and looking forward to the next year.

Everyone would be safe, happy, and together.

    No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be there. It had to! Fred tore through his trunk again, this time physically removing the items one by one and throwing them onto the dormitory floor around him. However, much to his dismay, he reached the bottom empty handed. Standing abruptly, he rushed over to George’s trunk and began to do the same. He was halfway through its contents when his brother came in, followed closely by Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler.

“Oi, Freddie, mind telling me why you’re scrounging through my personal things?” George asked, staring down at his brother with a curious gaze.

“It’s gone,” Fred answered gravely, continuing to tear through George’s trunk.

“What’s gone?” asked Lee, hopping over the growing pile of things on the floor and landing clumsily on his bed.

“I swear I just saw it the other day and now it’s gone Georgie!” exclaimed Fred in a panic, sitting back on his heels when he, once again, reached the baren bottom of the trunk.

Towler sighed, walking through the mess, and placing his school bag down next to his neatly made bed. Airily he pulled out a few textbooks and laid down before remarking, “I always knew one of you would lose it. Personally, I always thought it would be George.”

George cast an unamused expression in Towler’s direction before crouching down next to his obviously distressed twin. “Get ahold of yourself mate—” George shook him roughly “—just tell me what’s going on.”

“The money!” yelled Fred, breaking away from George’s hold and moving to his wardrobe. “It’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere for it and it’s gone. Last I checked it was in our money pouch and now it’s not there.”

“Wait. You don’t mean the money we won, do you?” George asked, rushing to Fred’s side, and grabbing him by the arm. He pulled him roughly, forcing Fred to cease his search and face his twin. Fred swelled with irritation. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the missing galleons. Fred didn’t need to respond for George to know that it was, in fact, the money they won from their bet at the world cup. George’s eyes widened in disbelief and then, he too began to tare wildly through his wardrobe, all the while chanting a desperate mumble of “No, it’s impossible.”

“Two hundred galleons do not just up and walk away Freddie!” cried George, abandoning his wrecked wardrobe, and lying flat on his belly to look under their beds.

“Where on earth did you two get two hundred galleons?!” asked Lee incredulously. He sat up in his bed, showing a larger interest at the mention of money the two had seemed to misplace.

Fred sighed, sinking to the floor, and leaning against the open door of his wardrobe. Closing his eyes tightly, he banged the back of his head against the wood as he tried to think.

“We won it,” answered George, now pulling back the covers on his bed.

Fred smirked sadistically, knowing it was a lost cause. He already checked there.

“Won it?” asked Lee again, clearly both confused and impressed.

“Yeah, we bet our dads friend all our money and a bloody fake wand that Krum would catch the snitch, but Ireland would win—” Fred rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms in frustration “—he was pretty surprised when we were right, but he paid us. We’ve had the money locked up in my trunk ever since. We were going to use it to upstart our business.”

‘Were’, was the important part of that sentence, thought Fred. Now without the money, he had no clue how they would fund their business after school. They could get jobs he supposed. He and George could work in a shop and save up until they had enough. It wasn’t the worst scenario, but merlin, it wasn’t what they imagined.

“Well I didn’t touch it,” said Lee, holing his hands up to signify his innocence.

“You couldn’t have taken it even if you wanted to,” said Fred. “I put so many wards on my trunk, you’d think I was trying to keep Dumbledore himself out.”

“It has to be here somewhere Freddie. Are you sure you didn’t take the money pouch out for something and then, I don’t know, leave it somewhere?”

Fred looked at his brother in irritation before snapping, “Actually now that you mention it, just the other day I was sitting on my bed and I thought ‘Gee, you know what would be an excellent idea? Taking two hundred galleons for a bloody walk.’ Of course, I didn’t take it out for anything! What do you take me for, Georgie?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was a stupid question. I just don’t understand what could have happened to it.”

“This friend of your dads, he wouldn’t happen to be Ludo Bagman, would he?” asked Towler from his bed, nose currently buried in his transfiguration textbook.

Fred and George froze, so still they could have easily been mistaken for victims of a well-placed body bind curse. They looked at their second roommate with suspicion.

“Why?” the two questioned in unison, staring hard at the sandy-haired boy.

“My dad says he’s a real bilker. He’s always making bets and never paying up – still owes my dad two galleons and seven sickles from a game of cards almost a year ago,” said Towler, looking back at his book with a bored expression.

Fred took a moment to process his words. Kenneth Towler was many things: swotty, boring, killjoy to name a few, but he wasn’t a liar. So that meant if he said Ludo Bagman was a renowned cheat, then it was probably true. Still though, he had paid them the money. Almost immediately even. If he was constantly broke, then where did he come up with the galleons to pay them off? Unless…

George seemed to have the same thought he did because it was his turn to sink to the floor in abject horror.

“Leprechaun gold,” they said in distraught realization.

It was the only possible explanation, thought Fred. While possessing the exact same features as a wizarding galleon, leprechaun gold had one little thing about it that made it unique – it vanished after twenty-four hours. Fred cursed under his breath, standing, and beginning to place his things back into his trunk.

“Of course that slimy git would try to con us out of our well-deserved money. We should have known!” exclaimed George, throwing his hands in the air.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” Lee offered kindly.

Fred and George snorted, “That’s likely.”

“Well it never hurts to make sure,” said Lee, taking off his shoes and kicking their things out of the way as he shuffled to his wardrobe to pull out his sleep clothes.

“He’s got a point Georgie,” said Fred, pausing his cleaning to grab parchment, a quill, and his ink bottle from the ground.

Dear Mr. Bagman,

Fred and George Weasley here! We’re sure you remember us from the world cup. We were the two incredibly dashing twins that won all that money off you.

Speaking of the money, it seems there was a slight mistake and you paid us in leprechaun money instead of real money.

We’re sure it was just an innocent error on your part and therefore would hold no ill-will against you as long as you respond to this letter with the amount in full.

Sincerely,

Fred and George Weasley

Founders of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes

Fred penned the letter as George stood over his shoulder reading aloud and making suggestions. When they were satisfied with the tone and contents of their letter, Fred folded it neatly and placed it inside an envelope, addressing it to Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic.

“Do you suppose we have enough time to make it to the owlery before curfew?” Fred asked, kicking the rest of his things out of the way, and pulling on his shoes.

Kenneth Towler snorted rudely from his bed, “When have you two ever cared about curfew?”

“He makes a fair point Freddie. Come on, let’s go then.”

“Oi! Aren’t you two going to clean up your mess?” Lee shouted at them as they made their way to the door.

The twins yelled a shifty “Maybe” over their shoulders as they exited the dormitory and made their way down the stairs to the common room.

Fred held tightly to the letter, hoping against all hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding. Perhaps Ludo had been a bilker in the past, but recently changed his ways. Perhaps he had every intention of paying them in full. Perhaps he’d be embarrassed upon opening the letter and realizing his mistake. Perhaps George would sprout a tail overnight and he would shit out a pig.

Still, it was worth a try. Not only were they short the two hundred galleons Ludo owed them, but they were also down the 37 galleons, 15 sickles, and three knuts they originally gave him for the bet. It was all the money they had to their name. They needed that money. Fred rubbed a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly at the roots behind his left ear. He honestly didn’t know how it would all turn out, but one thing became apparently clear as they reached the owlery.

If Ludo Bagman didn’t give them the money he owed them, then it was more important than ever that they get their names into the Goblet of Fire and have their chance at the prize money.

Chapter 5 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

[lokidiabolus]

The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

or

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?  

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th  

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th  

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

 2020, July 25th  

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

 The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th  

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th  

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th  

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

 It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

 “There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

[yourlocalhazbintrash]

I Was In a Writing Mood, So Here

Knock, knock, knock!

Husk sneered at the door as if it was mocking him, eyes narrowed and a growl rising in his chest. Things had been incredibly tense around the Hazbin Hotel as of late, a seemingly required side effect of Angel's success in being redeemed. After all that had happened; the turf wars, the threats from other Overlords, the good times, the bad times, the ups, the downs; none of it seemed to compare to how it felt to watch Angel earn the stereotypical wings and golden halo that signified his change.

Yes, the first five years hurt, and no one knew what to do without Angel around. The lack of chaos, dirty jokes, constant flirting and occasional moments of vulnerability put everyone on edge. After the sixth year, however, things started to officially fall apart.

Charlie smiled less, but kept up her happy charade to keep everyone else in high-ish spirits. Vaggie became much quicker to anger, and she almost always ended up snapping at any demon who dared to mention Angel's name in a degrading manner. Niffty consistently cleaned Angel's room, even going as far as keeping Fat Nuggets with her as if she believed Angel would return. Husk drank more, his rough demeanor becoming rougher.

And as for Alastor?

The Radio Demon spent more time at the hotel, keeping tabs on every patron and giving them scrutinizing looks every time they relapsed. His jokes slowly started to become nothing more than condescending comments, and his smiles becoming tighter and more feral. Charlie had, at some point between the fifth and sixth year, claimed that she thought this was Alastor's way of grieving.

The thought hung in the air, but was never confirmed nor denied.

"Husk? Do you think you can get the door for me, please?" Charlie's voice was small and tired, and Husk sighed at the sight of the tears streaming down her face.

"Another one of those days, huh?" Husk asked, humming when Charlie nodded minutely. "Yeah, same here."

"Oh! Y-you don't have to go if you don't-"

"Hey, it's fine, princess. Goin' and openin' the door is better than sitting on my ass and drinking myself unconscious. Did enough of that yesterday." Husk stretched with a loud yawn, exiting the bar and trudging over to the hotel doors.

The knocking became more insistent as Husk drew closer, driving a sense of annoyance into his mind. Low grumbling accompanied the old cat's movements, even as he opened the door, eyes not meeting the guest's.

"Hello, and welcome to Hazbin Hotel! The place where redemption truly is possible!" Husk droned, having said the mantra enough times to blurt it out at any moment if told to.

"Holy shit, I was only gone for some 20 odd years and you're already this bad? Did you crybabies really miss me that much?"

Husk threw his head up, making eye contact with the guest almost immediately. A smile graced the familiar spider demon's face, stretching wide enough to convey his absolute elation.

"Husk? Who is it?" Charlie asked from inside the hotel, having become concerned when Husk continued to silently stand and look out the door as if he was frozen.

"Yeah Husk! Why don't ya tell 'er who I am?"

"Wait... is that... Angel?"

"In the wingless fur, princess!" Angel took a few steps forward, smirking as Husk took a few steps back, continuing on until both demons were in the safety of the hotel. "Damn, it is good to be back!"

Charlie squealed, racing over to Angel and jumping into his many arms, almost startling him enough to fall onto the ground. Overjoyed laughter mixed with questions asked a mile a minute, distracting the trio from the patrons of the hotel that were slowly gathering around them in disbelief.

"I can't believe it! How?! When?! Why?!" Charlie gripped both sides of Angel's face, running her fingers through the silky fur and doing all she could to make sure she wasn't having a cruel dream.

"I'll answer your questions in order: It took a bit, but after so many years I managed to get to the higher ups and talked to them about how unhappy I was up in the clouds. There was literally nothing to do up there! Plus, I'm woman enough to admit that I missed you guys." Angel shifted so that he was holding Charlie in a more comfortable position, chuckling as her grip tightened.

"You sure waited long enough, ya ass." Husk scoffed, crossing his arms and subtly leaning against Angel. "Pretty big waste o' time getting ya redeemed just for ya to come back."

"I could always just go back."

"NO! YOU SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, HUSKER!" Charlie screamed, finally taking notice of the guests around them. "Everyone! Come closer! It's really him!"

"Oh no, I'm a star again! Charles, if ya keep this up, I might just get a little high off the praise." Angel teased, finally setting Charlie down. "Sorry toots, even as a demon my arms get tired."

Everyone around the trio laughed quietly, some of them beginning to ask questions. 'How did you manage to get redeemed?' 'How difficult was it to get redeemed?' 'Do you think I could get redeemed?'

Angel answered each question with poise and confidence, not skipping a single demon or considering one question better than the other. Pride was spread along Charlie's face, and just as she was about to say more on the matter, the familiar sound of radio static filled the room. A path was created by the patrons so that Alastor could easily reach Angel Dust, all of them waiting silently to see what was going to happen.

"Hey there shorty. Ya miss me?" Angel smirked, leaning forward to be eye level with Alastor. "Judging by that smile o' yours I'd say y-"

Angel was cut off by a harsh slap, followed directly by an incredibly awkward hug. No one knew what to do, so everyone stayed stock still, watching the odd display play out for a solid two minutes before Alastor let Angel go.

"So... ya missed me?" Angel didn't know what else to say, rubbing his slightly smarted cheek with a light frown. "Jeez Al, ya didn't have t' slap me. I would've understood with the hug alone."

"That's his way of kissing." Niffty chirped, suddenly appearing on Angel's shoulders. After waiting for her friend to get over his sudden shock, Niffty continued, "He picked it up after hearing someone else say that they slap others to show affection because of how uncomfortable it made them to actually kiss anyone. So now he slaps demons he wants to kiss."

"Who else has he slapped?" Angel asked Niffty, finally managing to get over the aforementioned slap.

"No one but you." Charlie replied, snickering at Angel's blush. "I guess that makes you pretty special."

"Hey, you shut up! The all o' youse!" Angel willed his blush away, glaring at Alastor for a few seconds before turning his attention to Charlie. "This ain't over, Al."

"I would hope not." Alastor chimed, turning and walking away without another word. This left Angel alone with a room full of demons looking to be granted freedom from Hell, hopeful smiles on each of their faces.

And to think that all of this hope was because of Angel Dust. The once renowned whore of Hell, who was nothing but property under the thumb of Valentino. The hope shown was present because of what Angel did to turn his life around, to be something different. All of it was because of him, the demon who left Hell, only to come back because of the freedom of choice he was allowed to have.

Something he would honestly do again in a heartbeat.

[anarchy-lives-eternal]

The Nicest People

Have you ever heard the saying “the nicest people are the scariest motherfuckers when they’re angry”? Well, Angel Dust had never really thought much about it over his century of existence. However, on this particular day, that would all change.

Angel, even having grown up in a crime family, never thought much about that old saying. His family were scary to other people. Hell, Valentino was scary, but he was never nice in the first place!

Charlie though, the demoness who had brought him off the street after pissing off Valentino one too many times, who had actually cared about him and did her best to help him, was the kindest person in his little world. He didn’t so much as breathe a word of his appreciation to anybody, but he knew that Charlie knew he cared about her. Angel likes to think that his small affections and their Friday night “movie and cuddle” tradition they had started over the last few years showed her that much.

That being said, Angel had seen nearly every emotion pass over the demoness’s face. Joy, sadness, fear, anxiety, she even got annoyed sometimes! But the only emotions he had never seen in those impossibly wide doe eyes, that now were narrowed slits, was disgust and...

Pure, carnal, rage. After all, Angel and most of the others thought that such a thing was impossible.

Until, that is, during this years purge. An angel had barged into the hotel lobby where everyone was crowded together, Alastor trying to comfort Charlie with wacky little songs, or cute little cheek kisses. The other occupants were there seeking comfort either in the presence of those who had become their friends, or in the cheap booze that Husker mixed up. Angel and Vaggie in particular were there to help Alastor comfort their friend and boss.

When the angel had burst through the front door, there had been a dead silence that permeated the room. Every sinner froze, eyes wide, unsure of the reason for its presence.

Charlie, teary eyed as she was, was the first to step forward, asking if one of the sinners had been redeemed, and if not, why they were here.

The angel had cocked its head, mask firmly in place, and its simple reply had been what sent Charlie off the deep end, “Redeemed? No, I’m simply here to take care of a vermin problem.”

Before anyone could process that an angel actually just fucking spoke, Charlie was already in front of it, nose to nose. Her hair had broken from its usual band and was flaring wildly, her horns, instead of pointing straight to the ceiling, were twice their normal width and curled backwards like her mothers, her irises poison yellow, and her sclera glowing bloody red. Her teeth, while still a gleaming white, were even sharper than Alastor’s, “Then get. Out. Before I show you why I’m the next in line for the Fallen Throne.”

“Move, demon. This is a job, nothing more.”

Charlie snarled before moving faster than any of us could track, wrapping her clawed hand around the angels throat before bodily throwing him back out the front doors.

All of the residents of the hotel were still in shock, but snapped out of it quickly when Charlie began stalking forward slowly, changing even more with each step. Her height beginning to rival Alastor’s, and three pairs of black feathered wings sprouting from her back, each wing tip decorated in a gleaming talon and the end feathers looked more like black razor blades, ripping apart her shirt and leaving her in only a bralette with her suspenders.

As Charlie walked outside the hotel, everyone had rushed forward to watch from the doors, Alastor being the only sinner bold enough to walk outside.

“Hey Smiles, what do you think is gonna happen? I’ve never seen Charlie this fuckin pissed before.”

Alastor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beauty in front of him. His smile hurt his cheeks, “Why, my effeminate fellow, I do believe that we are about to witness the death of an angel,” he paused, “you might even be able to call him angel dust soon enough.”

Angel rolled his eyes at the horrible pun on his name. Before anything else could be said though, they all heard a groan from the ground where the angel laid. The sounds of screams around them nearly drowning it out. All eyes returned to the fight about to start before them.

Charlie allowed the angel to stand, her eyes casting an eerie orange glow upon the white dressed being. She stood tall, elegance emanating from her even in all her fury.

“How dare an abomination such as you lay hands on me!”

“Correction: it was only one hand. And it laid upon you for threatening me and MINE.”

And suddenly the ground around the two erupted, magma and hellfire whipped into a frenzy by the Princess’s temper.

Angel noticed another movement out of the corner of his eye, Vaggie had finished whispering something to Razzle and Dazzle, and the two disappeared into the shadows.

Charlie stretches out her wings for the first time in centuries and felt something inside her sigh with relief. ‘This is what you were born to do. This is what you were meant for. Destruction. Razing the world. Punishing sinners’

Charlie’s snarling grin could cut diamonds at this point. She could sense everything around her. Each angel that was invading her territory. Trying to hurt her people.

It was time they leave.

Just as the angel reached for their weapon, Charlie moved. She sprung forth with all the fury within herself. Two sets of wings helped propel her, the third set reaching forth alongside her claws, ready to slice into holy flesh.

The residents of the hotel watched in horrified awe (well, Alastor was quite gleeful) as their princess made well known why she was to be feared and respected.

Moments. That’s all it took. Moments before the angel was slammed so hard into the cracked earth that it created a crater, and it’s head was torn from its body. Blue blood splattered across Charlie’s face as she rose from the crater on her wings.

That’s when five other angels showed up, brought by the sounds and commotion.

“Do you wish to challenge me as well?” Charlie asked them all at once. Her eyes burning into the masks of each one as she tossed the decapitated angel to the side, licking at the blood staining her black lips.

Before anything else could happen, another figure entered the clearing, bearing a striking resemblance to Charlie herself, only this one was male.

“Looks like daddy Luci decided to join the party...” Angel murmured.

“My little fallen angel, it’s been centuries since you lost your temper. It’s rather refreshing, I must say. As for you five, what say you to leaving? Do you truly wish to feel the ire of two fallen angels? I can guarantee that you won’t survive should you decide not to leave of your own accord.”

“Your monstrosity has committed a high crime, Lucifer. She must be punished.”

At this, Charlie laughed, “You call me a monstrosity, yet your brother tried to exterminate sinners who are working towards redemption. What would the Heavenly Father think? After all, these sinners are trying to repent.”

The angel who had spoken tilted his head a bit, “Is this true?”

Finally, Alastor decided to step forward, to act as a “neutral party”, “It is true. We had all gathered in the hotel to comfort and support one other on this... difficult day. The angel in question entered the premises and mocked the sinners seeking redemption, calling all ‘vermin’ to be ‘dealt with’.”

Lucifer, with a grin similar to Charlie and Alastor’s own, turned back to the angel, maliciousness dripping from his voice, “You see? My daughter only acted in defense of her people. Not to mention, your angel broke the rules. No angel is allowed to enter any home or establishment in Hell.”

The angel mulled over the new information for a moment, and everyone held their breath except for the three demons facing them. Lucifer and Charlie were in no way fearful of the angels. They knew that they could take on five with no issues, and Alastor simply stared adoringly to Charlie, not a care in the world that five angels stood before him. That’s when the bell signaling midnight rung out through the bloody night.

“Very well. The bell has tolled. You shall all live another year. May those seeking redemption find it.”

They all turned to fly away, but Lucifer called out once more, “Oh, and Michael.”

The angel that had spoken, now identified as Michael, stiffened and froze in place before turning only slightly to look at Lucifer.

“If I ever catch an angel breaking my simple rules again, I will take great pleasure in killing every single one of them. Even you, dear brother.”

“I can assure you that no such thing will happen again. I give my word. Oh. And Father says ‘hi’.”

Lucifers only reaction was the narrowing of his eyes.

_______________________________________________

As all of the remaining angels vacated Hell, Charlie and her little motley crew remained outside. Finally, she lifted up her hand and sent the usual signal for the end of the cleansing into the sky, and demons from all around came to investigate what they had heard. Once many got a good look, they quickly retreated to a safe distance.

Alastor and Lucifer both approached Charlie, who was still in her full form

“Here, my darling/fallen angel” both said at the same time, then glared at each other as they each went to hand Charlie their coat.

Charlie took Alastor’s coat, not putting it on yet, before glancing at her father, “What? You can’t answer a call, but you hear about a fight and you come running? Do you still think I can’t handle myself?”

Lucifer looked away, seeming almost apologetic, “Charlie, while I admit that I have been rather callous, I have my own reasons for not supporting your idea. I know you could fight every angel in heaven and win, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t worried. I should have been... more understanding. I realize that now.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. This was the closest to an apology as she was ever going to get. That didn’t erase her anger though, and her wings shifted of their own accord, showing her irritation.

“Darling, not to interrupt, but I do believe that you are making our local population a tad nervous at the moment.” He handed her his handkerchief to wipe off the blood, and she took it gratefully, her form shrinking to her normal state while she wiped her face.

“You missed a spot, Sweetheart.”

Charlie looked confusedly at Alastor when he reached out and swiped a finger at the corner of her lips, bringing the drop of blood to his own and licking it off.

Charlie just rolled her eyes, “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Why would I even try my dear?” Alastor said with a staticky laugh.

Charlie chucked as she put Alastors coat on.

Lucifer looked suspiciously between the two, “And what is your relationship with my daughter Radio Demon?”

Alastor laughed again, “I’m her Beau, of course! I simply couldn’t resist the charms of my little belle!”

“What! But Charlie—!”

Charlie raised her hand, palm facing her father, and used the same stern look she remembered her mother giving on multiple occasions, “Dad, you haven’t got a leg to stand on right now. I’m happy. He treats me right.”

Lucifer looked almost like a kicked puppy, muttering that his sweet little fallen angel had a new man in her life and didn’t need him anymore. Then he stood straight once more, “Well, I suppose that’s all I really need to know,” he turned to Alastor, “just know, Radio Demon, if you hurt her, I will not be nearly as merciful as my daughter.”

That’s when the moment was broken, by Angel of course, “Merciful! Babes just tore that saps head off! I ain’t ever seen her so pissed!”

The field went silent, but it was broken with a small chuckle that turned into full blown laughter. Charlie doubled over, her guffaws bringing tears to her eyes.

After near five minutes of her laughter, she stood upright again, wiping her tears away, “Yeah, I guess you weren’t down here the last time I lost my temper, huh? But you see, that’s why I try so hard to be kind, and to help you all. I know exactly what I’m capable of, Angel. I know I could raze all of hell if I wanted to. Because if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that true kindness is only true when you are capable of true cruelty as well.”

That seemed to resonate with the sinners. After witnessing her fury, they finally understood why she was so pure. It wasn’t because she isn’t capable of depravity, it’s because she is, and chooses a better path.

“Well! Not to diminish the moment, but shall we go inside? I’ll even ale my mother’s famous jambalaya. How does that sound, love? Alastor held out his hand to Charlie, who took it, smiling widely beside him.

“I think that sounds grand.”