#alastor/reader

[jazzmasternot]

He’s a red flag but red means good fortune and love in my culture 😘

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

prompt: who did this to you? tell me now.

summary: when you end up getting hurt while out, you make it back home, but just barely.

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

characters: alastor, lucifer

warnings: talk of fighting, abuse, broken bones and getting hurt, being stabbed. essentially you’re hurt and they respond to you being hurt. blood and medical care by the characters too.

alastor

you walked into the hotel, staggering in, barely able to keep yourself up. every breath your feeble body tried to drag in aggravated another part of your body, causing even slight breaths to feel like you were being punched again.

you grimaced as you found stability against the wall next to door, leaning against it, your head hitting the wall. you micro-adjusted yourself trying to find a spot where you could breathe, knowing if you didn’t you would pass out. you couldn't find that spot, and were near tears. you couldn’t breathe, everything hurt, your eye was swollen shut, and you didn’t know what else to do. you had to get to your room but the thought of walking up those stairs and then down the hallway to your room seemed more of a torture session then you just got through.

that’s when you heard the soft pattering of feet and you looked up to see wide eyes.

red eyes bore into yours as the momentary shock of seeing alastor stopped your brain from thinking about the mind numbing pain you were experiencing. you watched him tighten his grip on his cane as he slowly made his way over to you, like you were a wounded animal.

“can you walk?” he asked, sizing up your figure and waving the cane away.

“i’m not… sure. i… got here… okay…. but my rooms… far.” you muttered out, long pauses between words to catch your breath. he nods, a dark shadow passing over his face along with apprehension, before he shakes his head and approaches you holding out his hands.

“may i carry you?” he asks.

“what?” your shock at his question causing you to not fully register what he said.

“will you allow me to carry you up to the rooms. i’ll help you with whatever injuries you have there.” he says slow and careful.

“i don’t know if… you can carry… me.” you murmur. he smiles a bit more now.

“i’m stronger than i look.” he replies back easily. you wave your free hand at him, giving him consent to go ahead. he gently places his arm under your knees and in a swift movement your in his arms, your body searing as your injuries are jostled.

“fuck.” you moan out trying to breath. alastor stays still and waits until you’re breathing somewhat regularly. he then starts taking you up the stairs, heading the opposite direction from your room.

“my room…” you say pointing behind him.

“i know. we’re going to my room. i have more first aid supplies then what charlie put in the rooms.” he replies easily, not breaking a sweat or even seeming out of breath. his door opens and he gently places you down on a chair near the opening to the forest. you try and find your breath again as alastor quietly darts off and comes back with a box of medical supplies.

he’s quiet as he examines you and asks permission to take off your shirt. he quickly assesses the damage to your ribs, your ankle and your face. checking your hands as well and glaring at the wounds on your knuckles. he starts with your ribs first, setting them and then wrapping them, forcing your posture straight. had you not been just trying to stay awake, you would have blushed at how gently his hands trailed your sides, piecing you back together. next he hands you a cold pack for your eye. you hold it up as he wraps your hand in gauze and ointment. you switch hands as he treats the other one.

“i don’t think your ankle is broken.” he says, “but at the least it’s sprained horribly.” he pulls out a stabilizer and gauze. “this will hurt.” you nod.

“do you worse.” you mutter, finally able to take deeper but still shallow breaths. he turns your foot to face up and your eyes widen as you scream.

“it’s okay. you’re okay.” he says, his eyes wide and worried.

“it hurts al. it hurts.” you cry, tears running down your face.

“i know. but let me finish up. it will feel better.” he assured you as he reaches up and wipes your tears away.

“go ahead.” you whisper. he quickly puts the stabilizer against your leg and then wraps it with gauze. tears running down your cheeks as you keep still and silent.

“it’s done.” he says leaning back as you sit in the chair feeling exhausted.

“thank you… alastor.” you voice no louder than a whisper but you know he hears you as he nods. he packs everything up and then moves you to the bed that magically appears in the room.

“i have a room al.” you say, sitting against the pillows.

“i know you do, but you can’t do anything in this condition. so you’ll stay here until i deem it okay for you to leave.” his tone leaving no room for argument and you nod. “now, who did this to you?”

your eyes widen as your head snaps up at him. gone was the man you saw before, replaced with what you knew as the radio demon. the shift happened almost instantaneously. “it was nothing alastor. i just… fucked up.” you say looking off to the side.

“i don’t take well with lying dear.” he says, his hand hovering over your ankle as a warning. you look at him disbelieving and he just tilts his head. almost as if he’s saying ‘try me’. you sigh.

“it was an ex of mine. he worked for vox and i left him before i came here. he was abusive and i had enough. but he found me and he knew i was at the hotel. said i couldn’t get away from him, and that we were meant to be. and when i tried to get away…” you motioned to yourself. you hoped your words came across as truthful and sincere. you internally sighed in relief as alastor nodded, and sent his shadow off. moments later husk appeared and alastor murmured something to him. you saw husk’s eyes widen as he looked at you and then alastor.

“i’ll take care of it.” husk said, his gaze steely as he left.

“relax my dear. you’re safe now and we’ll help you recover.” alastor said, as you moved to lay down, him taking up an arm chair by the bed and procuring a book from thin air. you closed your eyes as guilt consumed you. you had told alastor the truth but not the full truth.

you didn’t tell him that your ex mentioned that him “giving to you what was coming” was from vox and was to be a message to the radio demon. you knew that alastor would withdraw after that and that would hurt you more than any other physical pain anyone could put you through.

lucifer

you quickly shut the door to the house, leaning against it and taking a breath. you looked down to your abdomen and got a bit woozy seeing the blood spread across your white shirt.

“damn it.” you mutter, feeling a bit foggy from the blood loss. you shake your head trying to clear it. you knew that lucifer was home and you could only hold onto the hope that he didn't hear you come in. you were getting ready to make your way to the bathroom when lucifer popped in front of you.

“honey! you’re home!” he says, looking mostly at the papers in his hand as you straightened up much to the protest of your body, trying to seem like you had not been stabbed maybe 15 minutes ago.

“i- yup!” you responded, your voice tight as you tried to cover your wound with your hand. you moved your jacket over it so that it couldn’t be seen either. lucifer looked up at you as his eye squinted at you. 

“are you all right?” he asks, coming closer to you, his focus on those papers in his hand all but forgotten. 

“i-i’m fine, luce.” you smile, it not reaching your eyes though. you clear your throat, looking off the left, trying to figure out a way to stop him from really observing you. “i know you said you wanted to show me those new plans for the hotel, let’s go check them out!” you say, changing the subject. hoping that worked. you didn’t want to worry him, nor tell him why you were hurt.

“okay…” he says drawing out the word and then motioning for you to follow him. you start walking behind him, every footstep jostling you and causing your wound to bleed even more, when you reached the three stairs to his study. he crossed them easily but you stepped up on the one and gasped, feeling searing pain in your side. your hand coming out to hold the wall so you didn’t fall. your breath rushing in and out of you like you had ran a race, as your head swam, your body loosing more blood. you see the red substance drip from your hand and watch it fall to the floor, blending into the red carpet. you look up and see lucifer standing there, his eyes wide. 

“what the fuck happened?” he cries, going to you and lifting you up, your hand falling from your wound and your jacket falling back, showing the slice through your shirt. he quickly makes a portal and gets you to your shared room. he gently lays you down on the bed, and dashes off to get some gauze. you try to get off the bed not wanting to ruin the sheets. he comes back to you flailing, trying to get up and pushes you back down, looking at you like you had completely lost it.

“the sheets…” you murmur, coughing and wiping your hand away seeing blood. “oh no.” you whisper and his eyes widen. he throws the gauze away and places his hands on your stomach.

“why didn't you tell me immediately?" he cries, shaking his head looking distraught. "i’m going to heal you, just... stay still.” he says closing his eyes. you grab his hand with the strength you had, though you felt all the strength in your body seemingly being siphoned just by laying on the bed. he looks at you, his eyes wide.

“it hurts you.” you say. 

“don’t care.” he says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. before you can argue again, his hands glow gold and you body starts stitching itself up, cell by cell, inch by inch. you can feel it all. you cry out as lucifer healing you seems to go on forever. the few minutes it takes seems like hours, as your mind swims through a sea of pain and exhaustion. finally the golden glow subsides and lucifer drops to his knees next to you. you grab his hand as he rests his head against you. both of you trying to recover. you can barely keep your eyes open feeling them closing. you drift off to a dreamless sleep, almost like your body forcing you to rest. 

when you wake next you sit up quickly, looking around the dark room trying to find lucifer. your breath coming in short pants as you can't see anything but the darkness in the room.

“luce?” you ask, your voice hoarse and then you look next to you. lucifer was sleeping close by you. you sigh out in relief as you lay back down and brush his hair back from his eyes, kissing his forehead. “you saved me, again.” you murmur, gently resting your hand on his cheek, resting your forehead against his. his eyes open slowly.

“i’ll always be there to do so.” he smiles and sits up. 

“i’m sorry i woke you up.” you said as he turned to you, drawing you to him and situating you to straddle his lap. clutching you close.

“i was so scared.” he whispered, not like he was asleep just a moment ago.

“i’m sorry.” you respond back. your head slotting in between his shoulder and neck. he lets you rest there for a moment and then pulls you back to look at you.

“who did this to you?” he asks, his eyes steely as he cupped your face gently. you shook your head not wanting to say. “darling, who did this?” he asked, the tone of his voice sharper and more impatient.

“i-“ tears start running down your face. “you’re going to be so upset… and i don’t want you to be. i don’t want.. you to pull away from me again. it’ll make you do that and i can’t bare that lucifer. i just-“ you start talking quickly, your breaths coming quick as you hold on to his shoulders, looking into his eyes even as tears pour from yours. lucifer’s eyes widen and his eyes are misty seeing how upset you are. 

“i won’t. i promise you. i won't pull away, regardless of what you tell me. but i need to know who did this to you. tell me. now.” lucifer says, his voice firm. 

“i-they were masked. they looked like sharks?” you phrased the last statement as a question. “they cornered me in an alley and said that i needed to take a message to lucifer. that they knew how to get to you, and they could use me to do that and you needed to give them what they asked for.” you said as you recounted the tale with your eyes closed. you opened them when you felt lucifer’s claws digging into your hips. you saw his eyes had turned red and his horns were fully out. 

“and they stabbed you?” he ground out. you nodded. "that was their message?" you nodded again.

"that if you didn't do what they asked, they would hurt me." you explain, realizing near the end of the explanation that it probably wasn't needed. his eyes darkened as you spoke, and he moved you gently onto your side of the bed. he took a deep breath as he got up. he gently petted your hair and helped you lay down, his horns no longer out, but his eyes bright red.

“where are you going?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“out. i’ll be back all right. stay here and go to sleep, you need it. i’ll be right back.” he says, a steely resolve in his eyes, and a gentle smile on his face. you nodded as your eyes felt heavy and fell asleep before lucifer even reached the door to leave. he straightened his jacket and walked down the hall. he had important work to take care of as he created a portal and stepped through it.

[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.”

[misslycoris]

PLATONIC

𐂂 Oh best believe he's not gonna take you seriously at the beginning of your so-called friendship, I don't even think he considers it as one.

𐂂 He just considers you as one of the many people he knows. He also definitely doesn't think of you as an equal or anyone significant.

𐂂 He'll probably acknowledge your existence if you were a part of the hotel, but if you were just a random demon off the streets then no, he has better things to do with his time. Not unless you do something that grabs his attention.

𐂂 Deliberately trying to be on his good side won't affect him in any way, he's used to that treatment, therefore what you're doing is nothing special.

𐂂 But what does grab his attention? Subtle things. Giving him his space, if you have a phone or any technology invented beyond the 1930s you generally try and avoid him, thanking him as he passes you your portion of the meal he cooks for hotel bonding nights that Charlie mandated. Stuff like that when added up makes Alastor generally more appreciative of your existence.

𐂂 Only then you're upgraded from an acquaintance to an acquaintance that isn't as annoying to be around as the rest.

𐂂 That's when he strikes up random conversations with you, he appreciates it if you take the time to listen and add to it, even more so if you actually set aside something you were doing just to talk with him. It gives him a mini ego boost every time.

𐂂 Writing something while he talks about the hotel's structural problems? His smile widens when you close your notebook and join him by recounting the time you almost fell down the balcony.

𐂂 Eating breakfast and he talks about how he hunts the perfect deer for venison? There you are, chewing your food and nodding, listening to how he graphically describes the process while the rest of the hotel stares at him in horror.

𐂂 Another thing he does during this phase is popping out of nowhere and keeping up with what you're doing, call it interest, call it curiosity, or maybe it's boredom. Now that Alastor knows that you are more tolerant of him he'll fully use that to his entertainment.

𐂂 I can see him trying to get a deal out of you but it doesn't go anywhere, since I'm going to assume we are all smart enough to not hand our souls to Alastor on a silver platter.

𐂂 Survive his onslaught of impromptu shenanigans and move on to the next tier of actually being friends.

𐂂 Alastor treats his friends as his equals so there's that, also be ready to accept his invites to drinking coffee around the hotel and talking about the latest mess the hotel went through.

𐂂 The way he treats you compared to how he treats Angel or Husk is way different that it physically gives everyone a whiplash. I'm talking about something like this:

"Can you not scare off people, smiles? We're tryna bring in people into the hotel." Angel explains, Alastor only simpers as he feigns ignorance.

"Why, I don't know what you're talking about!" He laughs as he skips off merrily. Charlie and Vaggie then nod to each other and drag you into the conversation, whispering you something before they push you towards Alastor.

"Hey Alastor, I just wanted to ask if you could help me with something?" You ask, you haven't made up a chore to ask for help from him but you needed a reason to try and stop him from scaring any potential guests. Does Alastor know? I guarantee you he does. But does he let you do it anyways? Yes, absolutely he does.

"Anything to help a dear out, if you'll excuse us then!" Alastor bids goodbye for the both of you as you walk away, despite being the one to ask him, he was the one leading the way.

𐂂 Alastor also invites you to meet Rosie! Rosie finds you very endearing and if you had a penchant for cannibalism expect luncheons together with them.

𐂂 By this point everyone in the hotel notices how Alastor gravitates towards you, they have mixed reactions to it but the general consensus is to not disrupt your "bonding sessions" as Charlie puts it.

𐂂 Alastor oftentimes shares jokes whether or not you appreciate his humor. Side note, Alastor full-on cackles if you or Rosie say something outta pocket about somebody, and hangouts with both of them are generally a good time. He'll try to say shit like:

"Let's be nicer now." All the while he holds in a laugh after you and Rosie called Susan the wicked bitch of the West.

𐂂 This is also a silly thought of mine, but picture this:

You decided to stay up late one night after you decided to do whatever it is you were putting off and after a while, you decided to grab some coffee from downstairs.

Arriving at the kitchen you see, this eldritch abomination in the shadows looming over the cabinet where the instant coffee packets were kept. It then takes you a few seconds to register that it was Alastor and you were just left standing by the kitchen doorway, wondering what to say.

"Can I grab the coffee packets from that cabinet over there?" You point towards the cabinet, Alastor then quickly shifts back to his usual form and ushers you to the kitchen counter.

"Nonsense my dear! Why don't I make us some nice and hot coffee instead of consuming such tasteless things." Alastor insists and before you could even refuse he was already doing a French press.

𐂂 Though as you can imagine Alastor has his off days, he makes it clear to you when he isn't in the best of moods and you steer clear of him per his request. Then the fight with Adam happened. As the rest of the hotel was busy with rebuilding the hotel, you were balancing both looking for Alastor and helping paint the walls of the new hotel.

𐂂 This is when the remaining walls he had crumbled down as you find him at his lowest, basically defeated and while he was royally pissed when someone saw him in such a vulnerable state, you were the best option out of the ensemble that was currently singing outside of the ruins of his old radio station.

𐂂 Hesitant as he was, he let you dress his wound with bandages, he wasn't comfortable with anything else you offered, not with cleaning up the wound itself, not with telling the rest that he was alive, and definitely not asking for help from anyone either. So you stayed there for a while after you finished dressing his wound up, his blood immediately soaking through the bandage. But you didn't say anything and let Alastor be, and after a few more minutes in silence, he got up and offered you a hand as if he wasn't the one who needed it. The only thing he says is:

"We mustn't dilly-dally now, the rest are waiting for you." Not us, just you. It sounded bitter but you didn't say anything.

ROMANTIC(? AS MUCH AS ALASTOR CAN BE AT LEAST)

𐂂 Romantic isn't the right word for Alastor, I imagine him to be somebody who doesn't outright say his feelings but there's a gradual change, and then one day, before you know it people around the hotel will start asking you if you two were a thing. He's not going to acknowledge the change verbally, but he does notice it and acknowledges it in his own way.

𐂂 Don't get me wrong he's capable of being romantic, acts of service is his go-to, and on days that he feels like it he can be very vocal with his affections. But it's not an everyday occurrence.

𐂂 This only starts right after something like seeing him at his lowest, that for me is when I feel like he's more willing to be more open to you. I mean, you've already seen him at rock bottom, so why not?

𐂂 Go to him during your more vulnerable moments, he's done it to you so he expects the same. Trust goes both ways after all.

𐂂 It starts out small, if you were used to setting things aside just to listen to him ramble, wait until you start to notice that he's doing the same thing for you. Usually when you're discussing something he multitasks, of course he still listens but efficiency is of the essence. Eventually though, he starts to physically put aside anything he is doing, showing that you have his full attention.

𐂂 There are also times when you (and the rest of the hotel) notice that your portion in meals that he cooked has significantly more than what the others have on their plates. Anyone who complains gets told that they were only imagining it by Alastor.

𐂂 Alastor also gradually becomes more lenient with you, letting you get away with a lot more than you should. Steal his monocle? He'll wear his glasses as he searches for you in the hotel. Break something by accident? He'll be by your side telling you to be more careful as he picks up every broken piece before you hurt yourself.

𐂂 Adjustment is key, I can see the other party doing more of it but he also makes an effort to meet you halfway. Are you particularly touchy? He doesn't get it but he knows it makes you happy so he makes an effort to accommodate you.

𐂂 Words of affirmation? Since he gets to see you get all flustered he's up for it! He finds you adorable whenever you do.

𐂂 Alastor tries for you, tries to navigate all of those unfamiliar territories that he's never had the chance to explore to ensure that you don't feel like the only one in your relationship. It does feel like it sometimes, I won't sugarcoat it, Alastor at heart is a man cold and sharp on the edges, but he isn't Alastor if he wasn't and he still cares for you all the same even if he doesn't show it.

𐂂 I'd say the most romantic part of the day for the both of you would be reading together in his room, fire crackling as you sit on the floor (much to Alastor's protest) while you lean against Alastor's chair. Sometimes he sneaks a peek into your book just to see what you were reading out of curiosity, and you'd rather not tell him that you could see him doing it from his reflection through the small mirror he had hanging by one of his shelves.

𐂂 Pet names for days! Yes he does call you chere, next question please. Pet names become more frequent the closer you two become, although, the more personal nicknames would be said behind closed doors. The most he'll call you in public would be darling, he didn't need to air out every part of his life and you both were content at that. Also, call me crazy, delusional even, but hear me out here sharks:

You were sitting by the fire, with Alastor still complaining that sitting on the floor was nowhere near as comfortable as you said it was, you only laughed lightly at how much of a fuss he's kicking up.

"I won't die a second time just because I decided to sit on the floor Al. Besides, you're a lot closer if I sit here. I like it like that. So let me have this one, please?" You don't know why, but he stops in the middle of his tangent. Something about what you just said struck something in him that got him laughing softly, even going so far as to ruffle your hair ever so gently.

"Oh, you dear old thing. I suppose I can't stop you." He eventually takes his hand back and goes back to reading as he hums together with the faint melody of jazz in the air.

𐂂 Alastor helps you dress up if you ask, need help with a zipper you can't quite reach? Hold his staff for a moment while he does. Can't pick between two things? Ask him and he'll give you his opinion, he'll often say you'll look just as lovely wearing either one but he does have his choice.

𐂂 You don't sleep in the same rooms unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you see it, if you're a part of the rehabilitation program you both would have a separate room of your own. Neither of you made any plans of asking Charlie to move you to his room or vice versa either since you were both unprepared for whatever questions she may have so you both agreed to put it off, there really was no urgency or need to stay in the same room anyways.

𐂂 Letters! Events like Valentine's Day never interested Alastor, there was no one to spend it with so he never needed to worry about it. But with you in the picture he starts to think otherwise, you both rarely ask for anything from the other so gifts would have to be purely given by initiative, and now was the perfect time. It takes Alastor an almost embarrassingly long amount of time to settle on writing you a letter, a heartfelt one dedicated to thanking you for being a part of his afterlife, for being someone he can trust, and for making the days less monotonous for him. Imagine his surprise when he hands you a letter only for you to give one of your own. You both share a laugh and settle down by the fire, reading your letters together as Alastor sits down on the floor together with you just this once to humor you he says.

𐂂 All in all, it takes a while, but with time, patience, and I mean a lot of it, you'll get there.

╭┉┉┅┄┄┈•◦_•◦❥•◦_

Interested in hearing me yap even more? Give Signed, Alastor a go if you have the time. It's about a bat and a deer faffing around until they sort their feelings out.

[nayomi247]

I cant believe like... no one in the fandom has done a post like this yet that I can find?? It seems like a staple, and Im sending it here cause your wonderful and need more requests mwuah (´ з `)

What do you think would be some of the Hazbin Crew's ideal s/o? Like, what would attract them/get their attention initially, what they would need in a longtime partner, that type of thing! I would LOVE if you did Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox (my BOYS *sobs*) but feel free to do anyone and everyone you want to!

Their Ideal S/O

A/N: Thank you for this lovely request mwah😙 Also I sprinkled in other hcs to that I thought of while writing this

Pairing: Lucifer/Reader, Alastor/Reader, & Vox/Reader

Work under the cut🤞🏻

I feel like this man would love a clingy lover. Please always hold his hand. Sit on his lap while he does his work. Cuddle him to sleep at night. He LOVES physical touch.

Lucifer:

He'd also want a person he can spoil. He wants you to know he cares. He shows this by gift giving; (another one of his love languages) anything in his power is yours for the asking, you just name it!

As for looks, he wouldn't really care about those. He loves you for who you are.... THOUGH, if you were tall, he'd like to be topped by you. Or if you were short, he would tease you for that and act all proud bc he's taller than someone.

The thing that initially attracted him though was your smile. He always adored it. Just seeing you laugh and be happy always made his heart flutter.

He wants someone who can take care of him. He's a very needy man and is almost like a toddler to some degree. Of course he could do this stuff himself, but it makes him feel better knowing that you're willing to do it for him.

If you're gonna be with him, you have to be nice to Charlie. That's non negotiable. He doesn't want to put you in a spot where you feel like you have to parent her, of course not. All he wants is for his 2 favorite people to get along.

He needs someone who's willing to commit to the relationship as much as he is. He's still a bit hurt from Lilith, and he's trusting you to not break his heart like she did. He would be crushed.

Alastor:

He isn't one to like physical touch very much. Maybe a peck on the cheek here, holding hands a bit there, but other than that he doesn't want to be touched. Don't get me wrong, he loves you a lot! But he's not really the.. touchy type.

I see him more as lover that would like words of affirmation or quality time. Just your presence alone is enough for him. Though if he's with a clingy partner, he'll probably get them a plushy or something of the sort to hug and cuddle when he's in his 'no touch mood'.

He'd like if if you could cook. You could help him prepare jambalaya and other dishes his mom showed him to make. It'd be a great bonding experience.

Like Lucifer, he doesn't care much for looks. As long as you're willing to commit to him as he does for you, then it doesn't matter to him what you look like.

To be completely honest, he doesn't know exactly why he loves you or even fell for you in the first place. But he does, and did. Who is he to question that?

Vox:

This man is also a big physical touch lover. He always has his hand on your thigh, holding your hand, or just touching any place he can.

Please let him spoil you. You'd always have the latest phone and other tech like that. If you want something, he'd be glad to give it to you.

He wants someone that's loyal to him and only him. If he sees anyone else trying to flirt with you (*cough cough* val) he'd go absolutely insane. You are his.

If you could cook, he'd always love to eat your meals, breakfast lunch and dinner. Would 100% brag to the other Vees when he has lunch.

He'd prefer it if you're good with tech. He wants to be able to brainstorm ideas with you and show off his latest inventions. Also it would make it 10x easier to clean his system if you were the one to do it.

He cares more about looks than the other 2, but it's not a deal breaker for him. He'd like it if you were good looking (You're beautiful no matter what though ofc) but it's not a need. Regardless, he'd still call you beautiful and his pretty thing

He fell for you because of your of your personality. The way you walk about and present yourself. You take bullshit from anyone, you know your worth. Much as he does. You're like him, you both understand each other. That's why he sought out your love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry if this exactly what you hoped it would be, I know I added a few random things but I hope you like it regardless :]

Once again thank you for the ask<3

{Taglist}

@wonderlandangelsposts

[hazbinpage]

Alastor x reader hcs

(not explicitly romantic, but not explicitly platonic, either — you're just really close and important to each other)

WC is a little over 2000 I think

A/N: This is my first time writing like this, and my first time writing for Alastor, so forgive me if it's a little OOC! It has to be, given that he would never be in a relationship in the show, but I tried to keep him as close to cannon as possible. Please enjoy and lmk what you think!

-Your relationship is that of a very slow burn.

-You might have met in the hotel, desiring to better yourself or wanting a place to stay; you might have met through a mutual connection, Mimzy, Nifty, or Husker having been someone you've grown close to and followed to Charlie's project; or he might have considered you one of "fairer means," and protected you from another demon, earning him your respect and fear and causing you to join the inhabitants of his current residence; regardless, you start out as acquaintances living in the hotel.

- Once settled there, you slowly get to know each other. You both start off with observation: Alastor noting how you interact with the others, your ticks, your strengths, your weaknesses, and your flaws; you seeing the subtle and not-so-subtle ways he reveals his power, his distant stature, his observance, his likes, his dislikes, and just how little he truly discloses. He's a mystery to you, and one you're not sure you should try to uncover.

-You mostly see one another in group dynamics in the first couple weeks or so. If you knew him before you came to the hotel, he might have greeted you ("Ah, Husker's little companion, greetings! (Y/N), was it?") Otherwise, though, he would stay mostly silent until Charlie introduced him herself, after which he'd give a short, fairly dismissive, yet exhuberant welcome. After this, you'd rarely speak, both instead watching as the other engaged with the remaining residents' antics.

- After a few weeks of barely speaking, something would change. You'd begin to show a common interest of some sort, be it music, dance, radio, dad jokes, or food. One of you would approach the other, asking for a friendly dance or striking up a conversation about dinner. You might also connect over a common dislike (modern technology/the Vs, dogs [if that's still cannon], being touched, ect.) While you don't have to have a lot in common, one or two things will spark interest in spending time together — something that is necessary for your relationship to progress.

- After a while of hanging out, you'd become friends, or at least friendly with one another — he enjoys having a companion in his interests.

-He'd probably end up initiating all of your time together, though; he's busy and prefers to be in control of his own schedule. He wouldn't mind necessarily if you tried to reach out, not at all, he'd just decline. If he wanted to hang out, he'd make it happen.

-While he considers you friends, he doesn't care about you — at least, he doesn't at first. He enjoys you in the way he might enjoy watching a character in a book, similar to how he feels about Nifty, just not familially in nature like he (seems to maybe) view her.

-Somewhere along the line, underneath his awareness, his interest in spending time with you will shift in purpose from manipulation, or the desire to engage in his hobbies unalone, to actual interest in you as a person. He doesn't notice this change for a while (sue him, he's been busy running a hotel; why would he pay attention to his feelings toward a side character?), but when he does realize what has happened, he'll be fairly confused by himself. Nothing about you is particularly interesting; you're fairly standard, with an average skillset and personal history. Why does he find himself so intrigued by you? So desiring to spend more time getting to know you? He'll admit, you've been a fun dance partner, and he enjoys when you sit with him as he broadcasts his radio show across hell. And, as much as he loves the fear in your eyes at his more gruesome displays, he always appreciates the kindness in them as you catch up over breakfast. Perhaps that was it — it was a lovely feeling to be feared and cherished at the same time — one so unoften given to him by a demon of a lower stature. He supposes little things like this could result in a friendship, however temporary. It's a similar story to how he befriended Mimzy, after all.

-He's decisive and it doesn't take him long to come to this conclusion. He'll start spending more time around you outside of your mutual interests and dragging you along to affairs outside the hotel. He'll have you meet Rosie and try to get you to eat demon meat. He'll respect it if you refuse, insisting it's your loss, but it won't be the last time he tries to "expand your taste."

-He'll be relatively comfortable with you touching him outside of dance at this point, though only briefly and informally (pats on the back, high-fives, a short hug or two if you haven't seen each other in a while, ect.).

-He'll tolerate more nosiness than before as well; he enjoys the attention from someone he knows and likes, and, depending on the question, he might actually answer you.

-He loves compliments; they feed his ego, and he doesn't mind dishing them back out when appropriate.

-That's the extent of your relationship, though: he finds you enjoyable to hang out with (now as a person more than a character, though there's still some of that sentiment), and he spends more time with you.

-The key to moving past this not-close-but-not-entirely-distant friendship stage is to do something out of character for his sake. If you're greedy, give him something he knows is important to you, no strings attached. If you're easily angered or vengeful, let go of previous wrongs to spend time with him. If you're shy, stand up to someone badmouthing him, especially if he's not there. Such intentional displays of will and care take him off-guard (as off-guard as he can be with someone he's gotten to know so well — you might not know him, but he certainly knows you) and make him feel very cared for.

-Slowly, after these displays, your friendship will progress. He'll start doing things for you, too — at first, in the form of minor deals, where he still gets something but often less than what he gives. Then there are mere trades, where you have most of the benefits with less security for him. Finally, he'll start giving you gifts and doing favors without charge, just as you have for him, on the condition you haven't tried to manipulate him in any way while he felt out the waters. He's slow to trust even someone who he views as harmless; please let him go at his own pace!

-He spends even more time with you as well, finding his preference to be in your company rather than out of it.

-Over time, slowly but surely, you grow closer and closer together. You trust him, and he…kind of trusts you. He has a lot to lose, so the partial trust is the most he's willing to give. It's also the most he's offered to someone since long before he died, perhaps the most ever, aside from his mother.

-This is especially so, given that he's already bound with a deal of his own. He gives himself permission to indulge in this close relationship with you only while knowing he would abandon or use you if it allowed him to be free. He's so desperate and scared, and he knows he’d do anything to rid himself of his burden. He tries to suppress and devalue the guilt that comes with the knowledge of his own ultimate disloyalty and succeeds only most of the time.

-There's no specific turning point either of you can locate where you became more exclusive than friends. You just know that it was before he moved an extra bed into your room so he could be with you while you slept.

-A couple years down the line, when you're more comfortable with each other, he'll sleep in your presence as well. He'll also be willing to cuddle, if you'd like, but he's going to be bad at it (stiff as a board, that one — plus, even when he gets comfortable with it, he'll almost always think of something he needs to do and leave halfway through). He doesn't necessarily enjoy it, but he loves you and is willing to do things he doesn't actively dislike for your sake.

-He'll let you touch his ears, something he hasn't let anyone do before, and finds he enjoys being stroked on the head. I hc this was something his mom did for him when he was younger as he fell to sleep, and is a major comfort to him now. You're just the only person he trusts to do it.

-Head strokes are also the only physical touch-y thing he'll actively seek out and enjoy; everything else is either for manipulation, to make a statement, something he just kind of lets happen (think Nifty crawling on him), or for your sake entirely. He will, however, not do anything or allow you to do anything he actively dislikes. He's very clear about his boundaries in that sense, and if you don't respect them, it will put a damper on your (already quite fragile due to his guilt and fear) relationship.

-In terms of smooching, he will kiss you on the back of your hand and the top of your head once you've grown closer. Closer still, and he'll kiss you on the cheek when you ask. If you've been together for years, he semi-trusts and fully loves you, and you haven't tried to pressure him to do anything he doesn't want, he might kiss you on the lips upon your request. Even after centuries together, though, this is a very rare occurrence.

-His breath stinks anyway; you should thank him for keeping his unsanitary meat grinder away from yours.

-Speaking of which, you have to hound him to brush his teeth. Almost nothing you say convinces him ("I make people uncomfortable, you say? Of course I do — I'm the Radio Demon! Nothing brings me greater pleasure.") The only point you could use that might get him to semi-regularly practice oral hygiene is that demons could look down on him for it. This is entirely dependent, though, on his mental state and general public status at the time.

- He doesn't care to define your relationship; he lets it define itself. He doesn't know what a QPR is and doesn't care to know. He does want you to be at least semi-exclusive, though.

-He also doesn't care if you view him romantically or not; so long as you respect his boundaries and care about him as much as he does you, he's content.

- While he isn't comfortable with you calling him your boyfriend ("It's far too juvenile a term for one such as myself, my dear!") or your husband ("Haha, don't call me that!"), he's more than okay with being referred to as your partner, significant other, or dearest companion; if he calls you anything but your name to others, these terms are what he uses. He views these titles as more ambiguous than explicitly romantic while still giving the context that you are

his person — the most important individual in his life — and that he will have no other.

-Pretty protective, but you might not see it often. He's fully confident in his ability to keep you out of harm's way; he's one of the most powerful demons in the pride ring, after all. Why would he have to worry? That being said, if you ever did manage to be hurt, he would be beyond pissed. He would broadcast your assailant's screams on his radio show for longer than he ever had before.

- Whether he makes it a point to tell other demons who's protection you're under entirely depends on what is revealed about his character in later seasons. He might be very very public about it, talking about you all the time on his broadcast and angering Vox with his PDA (usually just a hand on your back or something of the like to make a statement). On the other hand, he might keep your relationship very private, fearing that the few demons powerful enough to cross him would use his care for you against him. It's one or the other, in my opinion, with very little room in between.

-Speaking of Vox, he would loathe you. Your existence would both flare up his one-sided crush on Alastor and his desire to see the Radio Demon suffer — you take away any non-existent chance of his unrequited love being returned while also making Alastor happy, which he doesn't want. Vox might try to hurt you at some point, though very much away from the public eye, or to steal you away, but his attempts don't go on for very long before Alastor makes it very clear that he's to discontinue his behavior.

-While a person of any demographic could be Alastor's significant other, it will be harder and will take longer for a relationship to develop between him and someone he views as a threat (your relationship would start with him trying to use you for your power, and it would take a long time to fully stray from that nature), and/or another man (it's by no means impossible to develop a relationship with him as a man; he just seems to have more initial patience and fondness for women in general).

-You'll hear more about his life alive than almost anyone else, and he'll especially speak of his mother. He wishes you two could have met. "She'd just adore you," he'd say. It's one way to know how highly he thinks of you.

-He'd let you hold his staff. You wouldn't understand what it meant to him until it broke during his fight with Adam. If you see the fight, that is, he'd be very hesitant to let you near the battlefield. If you ever find out about his deal before he ends it, it's while treating his wound from his fight with Adam, and the information is spilled more or less by accident.

-Chances are he wouldn't come to you while injured, though, both because he doesn't want you to see him as weak and because he doesn't want his cloudy mind to spill any secrets.

-Overall, his relationship with you is a very slow-to-manifest but close and loving one that he holds very dearly in his heart. The only thing he holds closer is freedom. When the deed is done, though, and you're gone, he might realize his priorities were out of order.

[yourfavoritecanniballady]

Me

[radio-someone-still-loves-you]

Prompt 1: Charlie is excited to host a Charity Gala at the Hotel to drum up support and to celebrate their grand re-opening. To antagonize Alastor, Lucifer challenges him to bring a plus one to the event. Alastor takes the bait. To everyone's surprise, including yours, he picks you as his plus one.

Prompt 2: You challenge Alastor to a high stakes game of Hide and Seek. The boundary limit? The entirety of Pentagram City. The prize? Three favors from the Radio Demon himself. No limits. No questions asked. But if he wins, Alastor will own your soul.

Absolutely no one thinks this is a good idea.

[roseshewrites]

I NEED F!ALASTOR X F!READER!! PLEASE!!! Bi besties need some love and alastor is literally the perfect androgynous character tbh. When i search fem al all that comes up is M!reader. BOOOOOOOO.

Long hair, fem Alastor, with a girly girl that has a dark side.

Al is an absolute service top for her and reader can be a hardass or a whiny simp for her. SFW, NSFW, one shot, or many parts—doesn’t matter.

Maybe some angst to throw in but no unrequited love because that trope breaks me to pieces.

Writing it now, darling deer!! What a poetic concept!! This one is fun. I'll post it either tonight or tomorrow.🤩

[person-of-varying-obsessions]

In response to the news of Hazbin Hotel having seasons 3 and 4 confirmed, I'm posting an Alastor & Reader/OC snippet I wrote a while ago and was pretty proud of

Inspiration was taken from parts of these Alastor/Reader posts (with some expanding on their dynamic):

https://www.tumblr.com/okay-babe/742550027409522688/imagine-alastor-thinks-his-wife-is-just-the-most?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/742081257880584192/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-the-radio?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/tojirights/742049545787244544/femreader-with-a-size-kink-and-alastor-just?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/741794623772622848/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-alastor?source=share

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what drew him to her. Was it her adorable little laugh? Was it her intelligence and ability to impress with book-smarts most others lacked? Or was it the way she seemed to melt into every bit of attention he gave her? Regardless, he knew she had him wrapped around his finger - just as she was wrapped around his.

It didn’t take long for him to start courting her properly. Dates on the town, trips out to his favorite hunting spots, nights spent cooking at her house… They soon fell into a routine, with the days often spent apart - save for the few days he had free - and the nights spent in each other’s company, whether that was at Mimzy’s club or her house. Mimzy tried to play matchmaker, but she didn’t know that they were essentially already “together-together”.

When he realizes he actually cares about her, he tries to put distance between them. She can’t know. She’ll hate him, shun him, rat him out. Any sane person would. So he pulls away, ignoring every mental protest at the thought.

Of course she notices. Of course she probes him for answers - even goes to Mimzy to see if she knows anything. But she doesn’t get the answers she wants.

That is, until she spots someone sneaking into the swamp behind the church. She follows them closely, making sure to not make a single sound, and finds them throwing a limp body into the mud. Their silhouette is familiar, but she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe if she-

Her foot crunches on a convenient branch from one of the many hunched-over oak trees. The person she’d been following whips their head around, searching for her. She raises her hands into the air and slowly approaches. They watch with wary, squinted eyes, pocket knife held artfully in their dominant hand. As they come eye-to-eye, she gasps softly, recognizing the face she’d been wanting to see for weeks now. 

A flash of recognition crosses his eyes. Before he can ask her what she’s doing out there or tell her to leave or anything of the sort, she comes to stand beside him, hands propped on her hips.

“What next?”

His eyes are as wide as the moon above them. She looks down at the body and huffs. The man at their feet is one known for harassing women at Mimzy’s club. He’d tried a few lines on her, but she’d brushed him off with a curt, “No thank you” and flipped him off when he pushed for more of a reaction. She was glad to know another scumbag had left this world.

The wind blew by them, and he seemed to collect himself, asking her to keep a watch as he finished up. She did, resting against an oak tree large enough to mask the silhouette of her body and vigilantly watching every corner of the swamp she could. 

It wasn’t until they reached his doorstep that he finally stopped to ask the one burning question.

“Why?”

Her only response was an innocent tilt of her head. It sent her hair swaying slightly. Bright eyes stared innocuously into his own. 

“Why did you not scream? Call the police? Run?”

She blinked twice, then laughed. Of all the reactions he expected, that was one he hadn’t accounted for.

“Oh, that? I’ve seen a lot worse than a corpse and a man covered in blood.”

It was his turn to blink at her, confusion evident.

“You- You do understand why-”

“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”

Puffing her cheeks out, she pouted like a petulant child at the mere implication that he doubted her intelligence. He couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped him. The sound of footsteps against the pavement made him glance over her shoulder. A couple, ignorant of any wrongdoing that night, made their way down the street hand-in-hand. 

She took his hand in one of hers, reaching into his pocket with the other. Pulling out his key, she pushed it into the keyhole and unlocked it, pulling him inside alongside her. Every move she made was calm, as if she was unaware that she was protecting a serial killer. 

They made their way to the bathroom, and she helped him clean off any lingering blood from his body. 

“You’ll probably need to burn your clothes. Unless you have a way to get bloodstains out of cloth without leaving any behind?”

His outfit from that night went up in flames, but that night ignited his interest in her ten-fold. Why had she been so nonchalant? Was she just as corrupt as he was? Was she somehow targeting him like he did with his victims?

She gave her answer the very next night.

After killing another person at Mimzy’s request - this time a loan shark that kept harassing her for sexual favors if she wasn’t going to pay him back - he found her sitting on his front porch. Her eyes were softly shut, and slow, steady breaths escaped her lips as she dozed, knees pulled flush to her chest. A fond chuckle slipped out of him as he tapped her shoulder.

They walked inside and stood in his kitchen, silently staring at one another until someone chose to speak up.

Tonight, it was her.

“I know what you do.”

He felt the urge to tense but shoved it down. Would she still run? Report him to the police? Kill him herself?

“And I don’t care.”

“What?”

That was meant to be an internal question, but the pure shock he felt at her answer made his brain short-circuit for a second. 

“People have done way worse and with a lot less blood involved. I’m not bothered. And I know that your victims aren’t good people. At least, the one I saw wasn’t a good person. So you’re doing this world a favor, I think. If you need, I’m even willing to help out. Not that I doubt your ability to kill and keep quiet.”

One question kept beating around his skull at every word she said.

“Why?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen some things and met some people. What you’re doing is tame in comparison, I promise.”

Then she explained, seeing that he would keep asking until she gave specifics. From her upbringing - or lack thereof - to her childhood and latter adolescent years, he could see that she had been fully disillusioned. A truly logical mind, one that knew more than she let on and understood so much with nothing more than a glance. The world is cruel. It breaks those who learn about the thorns beneath the petals. She walked straight through the bush to reach the lake so she didn’t die of thirst. Pain, lack of guidance, and pure determination to live despite everything had carried her through life and into adulthood.

He rounded the island in his kitchen and pulled her close. She immediately relaxed into his hold, draping her arms over his shoulders as if she’d fall if she didn’t. Their lips met in a feverish, animalistic kiss. He had meant to start slow, honest, but having her pliant in his arms, soft sounds echoing from her throat to his at the sweetest of gestures, unlocked something primal within him.

She had to be his. No matter how, he had to have her. Not a single person could take her from him anymore. 

From her shows of submission, he could tell. She sought his affection, his approval, his guidance. Nobody before him had given her what she needed. He felt it was high time that changed.

After that night, they were inseparable. She moved in with him the next day, bringing what few belongings she had, and joined him on a shopping trip for anything she wanted or needed. He would provide for her like so many others had failed to. He would ensure she was tended to in every way she needed. Anything for his little dove. 

Pure despite the atrocities she’d witnessed. Pure despite how dirty her hands were. Pure despite choosing to stay by his side. 

Marriage came soon after. It was a logical progression, in his eyes. Now they would have no reason to be apart. Their years together were spent in each other’s arms, moments together shared under the guise of darkness. Some nights were spent kneeling in the mud, hiding the remains of his latest victim, while others were spent under a shared blanket by the fireplace. No matter the scene, they were happy.

“My dove, what will you do if I am ever caught?”

“Why do you think I keep a pistol in my bedside drawer?”

But their bliss was short-lived. After no more than a decade together, the news came.

He was dead.

Mauled by dogs after being shot square in the forehead.

The burning anger and suffocating grief overwhelmed her for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until that night, when she finally calmed down enough to speak, that she followed through on her promise.

“I’ll find you. Wait for me.”

Morning followed screams and cries from neighbors and the squeal of police sirens.

~

Hell was so… red. It almost hurt her eyes, but she soon adjusted. A storefront’s glass gave her the means to see her new form. 

Just like the others around her, she had been transformed into an animal-like form. Cute brown tufts adorned her head, twitching every time a new sound echoed in the distance. Freckles littered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she had no doubt that they spread further down her body. Patches of fur could be felt beneath her clothes, and her feet felt more solid, as if they were more like hooves than human feet. A tail wagged idly at her backside, lightly jostling the fabric surrounding it. 

A dead demon laid a short distance away from her. Their body was contorted, as if they’d died in a struggle, but their jet-black coat was unblemished save for the few specks of dirt from the ground. She wrestled it from their corpse and donned it for herself, gauging the look in the storefront’s glass again. It was a bit too long for her tastes, but it would have to do for now. 

Looking down at her left hand, she was relieved to feel the familiar fit of her wedding band on her ring finger.

“Here I come, Alastor. Wait for me.”

~

It took quite some time for the couple to reunite. Between the work he put into rising the ranks and her own efforts to do the same, they were too busy to actively search for each other.

Rumors spread like wildfire about the two newly-fallen deer demons that were taking Hell by storm. One was killing well-known and established Overlords, while the other was using charisma to wrap useful figures around her finger. With her newfound demon powers and everything she knew when alive, it was child’s play to have everyone she wanted kneeling at her feet.

They were both soon given the title of Overlord. Then came the time for the next Overlord meeting.

Both attended. Everything went as it normally did, though with introductions to get everyone familiar with any new faces. 

He introduced her to a friend of his - Rosie - while she roped a few of her new compatriots into beneficial alliances. She and Rosie hit it off right away, and the three of them fell into an easy rhythm. When it came time for Rosie to return to Cannibal Town, they were left alone.

For the first time since their indirect reunion, they looked each other in the eyes. No surprise was felt. Rather, a warm comfort in the fact they wouldn’t be apart in their afterlife. Finally, it all clicked in their minds.

“I was caught.”

“I kept the pistol.”

All at once, joy overtook them. He pulled her close, closer than he ever had when they were alive, and she melted into his hold as she always had. Nothing had truly changed between them.

“My dove…” She pulled back a touch to look up at him, grinning as she dragged a single finger down his right ear tuft.

“My handsome buck…”

Those words struck a chord with him. Bringing her chest-to-chest with him, he used his shadows to move to the living space he’d made for himself. Their night was spent catching up and returning to their blissful time of marriage that had been so cruelly cut short.

He’d doted on her in life, but in Hell, where he had managed to establish himself as one of the most infamous figures of any other sinner, he outright spoiled her. Despite not being with her as often due to his more frequent hunts and broadcasts, he spent every moment he had free with her at his side. Cooking as they always did, going out on the town to shop or just to chat and sight-see, visiting Rosie in Cannibal Town, and anything else they felt compelled to do.

Another relief was finding that she hadn’t changed a lick despite her time in Hell. Sweet, intelligent, witty, and pure. Just like when she’d first revealed why she was so willing to accept his status as a serial killer in life, he saw that she’d forged herself into a strong individual through her trials and tribulations in Hell. And again, despite any pain she may have faced, she remained his soft, adoring wife.

Despite his confidence that she could take care of any sinner that posed any modicum of a threat to her, he was still protective of her. He’d been possessive in life, always holding her closer when another so much as tried to steal a glance at her, but it was to an even greater extent now that the people around them had no shame in their sinful actions. 

When someone tried to get her while she was alone, he only had time to shadow-transport to her side before they were dead at her feet. The knife in her hand was soaked in blood, but she looked completely calm. Not cold, but relaxed, as if the action had been as natural as breathing. The sight of her in another’s blood, knowing she was unharmed but had inflicted irreparable damage to such a creep, brought forth feelings he hadn’t even felt when he was alive. She had assisted him in covering his tracks at times, but he never wanted to risk her getting caught, so he never allowed her to join him to help with an actual kill. Seeing her coated in blood made him regret making such a decision, though only because of hindsight.

Touch had always been a strange thing for him. Ever since his mother passed, he hadn’t let anyone else close to him. Not even Mimzy, both in life and death. She was the first, and she would likely be the last. Every touch he shared with her was electric and left him burning for more. Nobody else had sparked such a desire in him. 

As if she knew before he said anything, she would always either wait for him to initiate or gesture in an obvious way before moving in for a hug or anything like that. It was a gesture that never failed to endear her to him. 

He also noticed that, just like in life, she was so eager for his touch. Any time his hands made contact with her, even if it was something as simple as him tapping her shoulder to get her attention, she would relax and turn her full attention to him. It was as if she could never get enough of him and thrived on the next taste of affection or touch. Every caress was met with a sigh, a visible relaxing of the shoulders, and a sated, dreamy stare in his direction.

His touch was her aphrodisiac, her remedy for any ailment. But she also knew his stance on any sexual contact. If any form of arousal arose within her - including her newly-discovered period of “heat” due to her deer traits - she handled it on her own. And she knew he had to be going through similar periods of arousal since he was the same as her, but she never pressured him to talk about it. Knowing him, she guessed the topic would either leave them in an uncomfortable silence or be cut off before it could go anywhere. So she kept it to herself and didn’t bother him with it. But she did notice he became more clingy and openly possessive and affectionate when his rut began. 

The first time her heat and his rut lined up was an extremely awkward time. It was the first instance of genuine loss of words for both of them. When one would open their mouth to speak to address the “elephant” in the room, the other would be closing their mouth after trying the same thing. Eventually, she carefully reached for him, chastely stroking his upper arm.

“Tell me how to help you.”

“I… I don’t know how you can.”

“Then, can I try something?”

For a first sexual encounter, it went about as smoothly as two teenagers fooling around. But they used the “trial and error” method and made things work, bringing pleasure to each other in a way they never had before.

When they were alive, sex had essentially been off the table. He never felt the desire, even though he was attracted to her, and she was fine with that. She didn’t need sex to love him; she just needed him and whatever came with that.

But the floodgates were opened after that first rut-heat period. He started initiating more intimate moments between them, and she responded enthusiastically. As she had in life, she accepted whatever he wanted to give her - but not without taking a few small things of her own. Kisses here and there, daring touches to tease, and whispered words of heat meant only for their ears.

Any intimate moment they shared had her grow pliant, willing, desperate under his touch. He could be as gentle or cruel as he wanted, and she would eagerly take it all. Not just because she accepted whatever he gave, but because she wanted to be good for him, to show she was deserving of his version of love and affection both within and outside of the bedroom. Of course, he would never deny her, as he was just as eager to prove he could care for her as she deserved, though he couldn’t deny how much he loved her nigh-instant submission under his ministrations. 

Though not present to witness everything unfold directly, she was privy to the truth of what happened in the seven years he was gone. He trusted her and her alone to keep his secret - not even Rosie was allowed to know. And she never once let slip what happened.

Soon, the Hazbin Hotel was in his sights. She joined him in his pursuit of entertainment. Husker, who she was friendly enough with, was dragged into it, as was Niffty, who was more than happy to be given a chance to do what she did best. The Princess of Hell was as charming as she was naive, but she made for a great conversation partner. The Princess’s partner, on the other hand, would always pin them both with a distrusting glare that was brushed off by both. He couldn’t care less about the fallen angel’s opinion of him, and she had no reason to do anything that would anger the patrons or impede the Princess’ plans for redeeming sinners. 

When it came time to defend the hotel against the Exorcist’s attack, despite her fervent protests, he had her sit out, insisting she stay where they used to live until the fighting died down. She waited until the news started covering the aftermath of the battle to book it to the hotel. Her confidence in her husband had never wavered, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried. What if he had been wounded? Or worse, killed? It had happened before, no matter how much she wanted to forget what she’d felt after hearing the news of his death.

The hotel’s patrons were tending to each other’s wounds and those of their cannibal allies. Despite the gaudy amount of red that bathed their realm, his signature red shape was nowhere to be seen. But she knew where he’d be.

She carefully navigated the wreckage of his radio tower and found him slouched against his broadcast equipment, cradling his chest as it bled.

“What next?”

He looked up at her, eyes scrunched from the pain and smile straining across his face. Just like that first night, when she found him burying that body in the swamp behind the church, he was not expecting to see her. But that shock soon faded into relief.

“Stitch this up, then make our dramatic reappearance.”

She chuckled at his attempted theatrics. Sifting through the rubble, she found the first aid kit she’d forced him to keep and set to work stitching the wound as best she could. Then, when she was sure her handiwork was good enough, she finished her stitching and helped him to his feet.

Hand in hand, they returned to the others. Everyone welcomed them with varying levels of elation - Lucifer and Husker less than keen to have him back. She helped where she could in the rebuilding effort while he started putting in work to rebuild his infamous reputation after the Vees broadcasted his defeat at Adam’s hand. 

With the hotel rebuilt and even bigger and better than before, it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their routines. A few extra events happened within the usual flow, but nothing that caused a major disturbance. Boisterous laughter and chatter from Angel and Husker on later nights, group lunches and dinners, the occasional sinner genuinely seeking redemption, but the most notable was his choice to play the new grand piano after dinner every night.

Still well-versed in the skill, he effortlessly played familiar tunes as the others mingled on the main floor. She sometimes sang with him, but often she could be found sitting on a stool beside his bench, idly swaying her head side-to-side with eyes closed while her legs kicked beneath her. He would, at times, have her join him on his bench, choosing a simpler song to play when she eventually fell asleep on his shoulder. On nights like those, he would wrap up his playing early and carry her to bed, idly dragging his claws across her arm and thigh as he carried her bridal-style to their shared room. With a kiss to her forehead, he would leave her to rest while he worked on finalizing parts for his next broadcast before joining her in slumber.

[sweetsprinks]

Enter, Pursued by a Buck (ACT 2) drawn scene inspiration! By the awesome @sharkdukes

[jazzmasternot]

“NOT ALL MEN!”

you’re right! Alastor from hazbin hotel would NEVER do this to me!

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold.

alastor, lucifer, rosie, husk

⌇alastor

you looked the radio demon up and down, thinking that doing so from the farthest corner of the bar would ensure he didn’t see you. it’s not like you could help it though. alastor had switched out his normal suit for a gorgeous red velvet, his hair pulled up with what looked like braids in it, no doubt nifty’s doing. you took a sip of your drink and looked down, seeing him look up at your area of the bar.

you had been doing this since you had sat down at the bar. watching him interact with patrons and royalty, who were there to have their pocket books pried open for some funding as well as support for the hotel. it wasn’t an easy task by any means even with lucifer in support of the idea and here tonight. you were supposed to be chatting people up as well, but after the first guy you spoke to kept his hand on your arm for a little too long, you decided you were too sober for all of this.

you saw alastor’s attention be pulled else where, giving you your cue to look back up. he was angled away from you and you gulped audibly. the way the jacket fit his frame, his hair style complimented his long neck, and how his waist looked so deliciously tiny made your stomach warm and your face heat. you had zoned out, your mind taking you to an alternate reality where you had a chance of slipping off that coat of his… you shook your head and your eyes locked with alastor’s. you’re not sure how it was possible but your face heated even more, almost burning with the blush you had at being caught. you couldn’t look away though, even as he smirked at you.

you swallowed heavily and shakily took a sip of your drink as you saw him depart from whoever he was talking to, walk up to the bar and stand close next you.

“just a few fingers of that old rye you have back there.” alastor requested, and husk nodded turning away. giving alastor a chance to look down at you. you felt yourself shrink under his gaze as he smiled again, almost like a smirk. he grabbed the glass husk handed to him and you watched intently as he brought the glass up to his lips and sipped his drink, glancing at his neck and the way it moved. flickering your eyes back up to his as his grin widened. he bent down at his waist, you both face to face now.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’ll catch a cold darling.” he murmured to you, as your eyes widened and you looked down ashamed. alastor chuckled and you felt his finger draw your face up to look at you again.

“cat got your tongue?” he asks, smirking. you try and speak but no words come out and you feel your face and now arms burning. you take your cool hands and place them on your cheeks. he draws them away, holding them.

“don’t do that. i like the red color. red as blood.” he says, kissing your right cheek, then straightening up and taking his drink and himself back into the middle of the party, shooting glances at you from time to time as you still just watched him charm the crowd.

⌇lucifer

there were many benefits to being with the king of hell. you practically never had to worry about anything, be that financial or even emotional or physical. you knew lucifer had you covered. he was in your corner. once word got around that you were dating the king of hell, the perks increased. you’d walk into a shop and the attendants wouldn’t let you buy anything. there was just a small ask to post it on sinstagram or voxtube and review it. which you never minded, but then that oddly started an influencing career in hell. that definitely was not something on your bingo card for when you died.

right now though, you were faced with the biggest detractor of dating the king of hell. he had to attend this gathering. very boring, and you felt your eyes glaze over as you sipped lucifer’s appletini he left. you watched him converse with this group of royalty and business people, you being the only one left at the table. not that you minded and no, you didn’t want to go make conversation over there. you sighed and decided to use this opportunity to really admire lucifer.

he was dressed in his suit but instead of the white base he wore around normally, the suit was gold with red accents. and it just brought out his eyes so well. he looked ethereal standing there, talking to those people. you gave him a once over and all you could think about was getting him out of that damn suit that fit him so well. just imagining him underneath you, panting and sobbing for-

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i might just catch a cold.” you hear lucifer’s voice in your ear. your gasp sounding more like a moan when he grabs the appletini in your hand and throws it back in one drink.

“undressing you? you were already undressed in my mind. already on the bed if i’m honest.” you murmur to him and watch the blush take his cheeks.

“this boring you?” he asks smiling.

“desperately.” you look at him. “we should go back home. we can pick up where i left off envisioning you on our bed underneath me… begging for more.” you grin wickedly as lucifer gulps. he quickly makes his way over to the group, explaining something and you see them all nod. he quickly makes his way back to you and takes your hand, waiting for you to get up. then he all but drags you out of the venue.

“let’s go home.”

⌇rosie

you had told rosie she should wear her new dress. and damn it she was so excited about it, that of course you said yes. now… a part of you regretted saying she should as one of the gentleman in cannibal town kept talking rosie up while she was checking out a long line of patrons. you tried to breathe as you just watched rosie. you knew she was capable of taking care of herself. you watched how she nimbly packed up different items, wrapping them all while charming all around her. her figure was so graceful and the dress hugged her just right, accentuating her waist. you bit your lip watching her. both of your eyes widening as you caught each others gaze.

you blushed deeply while she smirked at you and checked out the last guest in line. finally she took a second to come over to you.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold darling.” she purred as she strode up to you. you saw behind her the same gentleman watching the both of you, his gaze hungry. you glared at him as you grabbed a bit of rosie’s skirt possessively, but not wanting to make a show. she chuckled.

“he’s really got you worked up, don’t he?” she asked.

“he keeps flirting with you. it’s disgusting.” you comment, looking at rosie. she hums and pulls you up so you were standing. she still towered over you, as she gently maneuvered you face to look up at her. she smiled again, licking her lips and she bends down and kisses you. your eyes widen as you throw your arms around her neck, reaching up on your tip toes to get closer.

you hum into the kiss, gently weaving your fingers in rosie’s hair and pulling at her nape. you feel the growl that comes from her, slightly panting as she break.

“get a fuckin’ room! absolutely disgusting. there are children!” you hear susan yell and you sigh. you hands at rosie’s waist, absentmindedly rubbing over the boning in the dress.

“i think you need to get back to the shop.” you sigh and rosie nods. “anything i can help with?”

“sit there and look pretty for me?” she asks and you laugh, nodding. you turn to the check out area and smile even brighter.

“he’s gone!” you exclaim. happy the guy from before wasn’t in the store.

“oh, yeah. he left right when i kissed you.” she laughed, patting down some of the fizz in your hair. “needed to make sure that everyone else knew who i was with though.” she winks and walks back up to the front counter as you sit back down and sigh. you wondered how you got so lucky.

⌇husk

watching husk talk to other patrons and quickly whip up drinks was a past time of yours that you greatly favored. it was sort of relaxing seeing him in an element that he excelled in, but honestly, just watching him and how good he was with his hands made you blush.

you were currently off, deep in thought, but husk caught your glance. your eyes widen as you try and look away, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity you had by playing it cool. you knew husk wasn’t dumb though. he had seen you staring.

he went back to work quickly enough and you waiting for a few more moments before looking out of the corner of your eye at him, watching him rim a glass with salt. he poured two liquors in at the same time topping off with some red liquid and a lime wedge, pushing it towards a demon who giggled as their hands touched being passed the drink.

you rolled your eyes and as soon as husk’s back was turned you took your opportunity to really look at him. he wore his usual suspenders and pants, but he had slicked back his hair tonight and had on a white button down shirt with suit themed cufflinks. it was an incredibly dapper look and you couldn’t help imagine taking off the damn shirt he was wearing. loosing your grip on reality again, you didn’t notice a drink being slid to you. you hear the drink before seeing it in front of you, looking up, you meet husk’s eyes. a smirk almost tattooed on his face. you blink a few times, trying to understand, when he chuckles.

“if ya keep starin’ at me sweetheart, and undressin’ me with those eyes of yours, i’m gonna catch a cold.” he takes back your old glass and leaves you sitting there bewildered as he helps the next guest. you take a sip and see a slip of paper from under the glass. you squint to read the scrawled handwriting.

“meet me at 1. party should be wrapped up then. you can stare all ya want.”

you placed your hand over the paper and felt your cheeks grow warm. he was going to be the death of you.

[vipetas]

i. the radio's revival

The worst possible scenario just unfolded before Alastor's eyes—his beloved antique radio broke.

He stood in stunned silence, his usual jovial expression replaced by one of utter disbelief as the once-majestic device now lay in pieces, its intricate components scattered across the floor. With a heavy heart, he knelt beside the shattered remnants, his gloved fingers tracing the familiar contours with a sense of mourning.

It was a futile gesture, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss for the part of himself that had been taken away with it. For Alastor, the radio was more than just a mere object; it was a piece of his identity. Each scratch, each dent held a story, a memory of a bygone era that now lay at ruins at his feet.

In that moment, he felt more vulnerable than ever before, stripped of the facade of invincibility he had carefully cultivated over decades. However, as he surveyed the damage, the vulnerability was quickly replaced by a flood of other emotions–anger, frustration, disappointment. How could something so precious, so irreplaceable, be lost in an instant?

The faint sound of shuffling feet then drew his attention. As he gazed up, one of the egg boys—those bumbling, loyal lackeys of Sir Pentious—timidly stepped forward with a sheepish expression.

“Uh, sorry about that, mister Radio Demon, sir. It was an accident,” the egg boy mumbled, his voice tinged with guilt.

Alastor's eye twitched in annoyance at the feeble excuse. Accidents were one thing, but this? This was inexcusable. His patience, already stretched thin, threatened to snap as he struggled to contain his frustration.

“Sorry?” Alastor repeated through gritted teeth. “Sorry won’t fix what’s been broken, now will it?”

The egg boys exchanged nervous glances, their carefree demeanor faltering under Alastor's withering gaze. “We didn't mean to, Mr. Alastor,” another one of them stammered. 

Yet it was far too late for apologies. Alastor's frustration bubbled over like a pot ready to boil, and with a growl of irritation, his form began to shift. With each passing second, his horns extended, his body swelled in size, and his once elegant silhouette towered over the trembling egg boys like a vengeful deity.

The egg boys recoiled in terror, their eyes wide with horror as they watched Alastor's transformation unfold before them. In their panicked mind, they could only imagine the worst—that Alastor, in his fury, would devour them whole.

Just as their fear reached its peak, Sir Pentious burst onto the scene. Positioning himself between the egg boys and the Radio Demon, his voice rang out in a chorus of apologies.

“Mr. Alastor, sir, I must beg for your forgiveness on behalf of my hapless egg boys,” he pleaded desperately. “They meant no harm, I assure you. It was a mere accident, a foolish mistake!”

Alastor's gaze narrowed as he observed Sir Pentious. As the snake demon continued to shower him with apologies, Alastor suddenly remembered the reason they were all gathered here in the first place—a party, of all things. With a wry smile, he glanced around at the other residents of the hotel, noting the fear etched onto their faces. The sight of their unease might've amused him under different circumstances, but the loss of something so precious to him soured his mood.

With a shake of his head, he allowed his form to shrink back to its normal size. As his horns receded and his imposing presence diminished, he felt the tension ebb from his body, the anger gradually fading away.

But that didn’t mean that all was forgiven.

“What, pray tell, am I supposed to do with my broken radio now?” Alastor's voice dripped with barely contained frustration as he shot a piercing gaze at Sir Pentious. 

Sir Pentious, visibly sweating under the weight of Alastor's glare, scrambled to offer a solution. “Ah, well, fear not,” he stuttered, his words coming out in a nervous rush. “I happen to know a mechanic—a fixer, if you will. Someone who can repair anything, no matter how... delicate.”

Alastor's eyebrow arched in skepticism, though a faint flicker of interest danced in his eyes. "Is that so?" he mused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He had his doubts about Sir Pentious' ability to deliver on such a promise, but at this point, he was willing to entertain any possibility.

“And where can I find this mechanic of yours?”

Following the instructions scribbled hastily on the back of a crumpled receipt, Alastor eventually found himself in the slums of Pentagram City. The narrow alleyways led him to what appeared to be a workshop, its exterior bearing the signs of neglect and decay. The windows were grimy, patches of paint flaked off the weathered walls, and the sign above the entrance barely hung on by a single rusty nail.

It was a far cry from the elegance he was accustomed to, and he couldn't help but feel a familiar surge of anger rising within him. This was the place that was supposed to hold the solution to his problem? The Radio Demon scoffed inwardly, doubting that anyone within these walls possessed the skill or expertise to repair something as delicate as his beloved radio.

Still, he pressed on. Pushing open the creaking door, he was met with a gust of stale air, tinged with the scent of oil and metal. Inside, the workshop was a scene of disarray. Tools lay scattered across workbenches, and half-finished projects cluttered every available surface. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with spare parts, some of which appeared to be salvaged from long-forgotten machinery.

Alastor's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as he absorbed the surroundings. Then, his gaze fell upon the lone figure, hunched over a nearby table—you.

As he drew closer, you finally looked up, and to Alastor's surprise, you greeted him with a wide smile.

“Hi there! What can I do for you?”

Alastor's sneer deepened at the sight of the chipper mechanic, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere of the workshop. He had half-expected to find someone as worn down and weathered as the building itself, yet here stood this bright-eyed individual, seemingly unfazed by the chaos around them.

Suppressing a sigh, Alastor straightened up, the edges of his grin faltering ever so slightly. “Good evening,” he began. “My name is Alastor, and I'm here because I was told you might be able to fix something for me.”

Your smile widened at his words, and you nodded eagerly. “Of course! What seems to be the problem?”

Alastor hesitated for a moment, eyeing you warily. He couldn't shake the feeling that entrusting his precious radio to you was a mistake. Yet, he had little choice in the matter.

“My antique radio is in need of repair,” Alastor explained, his tone guarded. “It's a delicate piece of machinery, and I require someone with the utmost skill to handle it.”

You listened intently as Alastor detailed the intricacies of his radio, nodding along with each word. Despite his cautious demeanor, you could sense the underlying concern in his voice. It was clear that this radio held great significance to him.

As he finished speaking, you gave him another nod. “I understand, Mr. Alastor,” you reassured him. “You won't be disappointed, I promise. Now, let's take a look at what you've got there.”

With that, you gestured for Alastor to follow you to your workbench, where he finally presented the fragmented piece of machinery. As you laid eyes on the broken radio, it became immediately apparent to you just how extensively damaged it was. Fractured casings, tangled wires, missing components–it was a daunting sight, yet you refrained from revealing the true severity of the damage to Alastor, not wanting to add to his distress. Instead, you maintained a composed demeanor as you turned to look at him with a confident grin.

“We'll get this sorted out, Mr. Alastor,” you assured him once more. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor felt a flicker of hope stir in his blackened heart at the prospect of having his radio fixed. Though a hint of doubt still lingered at the back of his mind, he nodded begrudgingly.

“Very well," he muttered. "Just... be careful with it.”

As Alastor stepped back, allowing you the space to work your magic, his eyes remained fixed on you with keen interest. He observed the fluidity of your movements, the subtle shifts in your expression. Whenever you encountered a challenge, your brows furrowed in concentration, and with each successful repair, a hint of satisfaction graced your lips. Alastor found himself unconsciously mirroring your expressions as he watched your steady hands diligently work to bring his beloved radio back to life.

And as time passed, so too did his initial skepticism begin to wane, replaced by a growing sense of admiration for your skill and expertise. There was something captivating about the way you worked, a sense of determination and passion that shone through with every meticulous movement.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, you made the final adjustment. With bated breath, you flicked the switch and awaited the outcome. The room fell into a tense silence, thick with anticipation. Then, suddenly, a burst of static erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of music emanating from the speakers.

Alastor's eyes widened in disbelief as the once-silent device surged back to life. Your face lit up with a triumphant smile as you savored his reaction, a sense of pride swelling within you.

“There you go, Mr. Alastor,” you declared, extending the repaired radio toward him. “Good as new!”

As Alastor reached out to accept the radio from you, his fingers inadvertently brushed against yours in a fleeting moment of contact. In that instant, a jolt of electricity seemed to course through him, sending a distinct shiver down his spine.

It was a curious sensation, one that he couldn't quite place, yet it stirred something deep within him.

Even after withdrawing his hand, the feeling lingered, leaving Alastor perplexed. His gaze shifted from the repaired radio to your face, searching for any indication that you too had felt the same inexplicable energy pulse between you. However, your smile remained unchanged, oblivious to the tumult of emotions swirling within him.

“Thank you,” he finally murmured, his voice softer than usual, betraying a hint of sincerity that caught even him off guard. “You did a remarkable job.”

You beamed in response, your eyes alight with satisfaction at Alastor's words. “You're welcome,” you replied gently. “I'm glad I could be of help. And remember, if you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Alastor offered a subtle nod of gratitude, though inwardly, he found himself oddly reluctant to leave. Nevertheless, he tucked the repaired radio under his arm and turned on his heel, heading towards the door. Stepping out into the dimly-lit street, he walked with deliberate steps. His thoughts drifted back to the moment his fingers brushed against yours, and despite his attempts to push the memory aside, his free hand instinctively flexed, fingers curling into a tight fist before relaxing once more.

This was going to be a problem.

part i / part ii

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed<3

[misslycoris]

ACCUSTOMED

“Has Mister Talkative finally shut his mouth for once?”

“Dream on my dear.”

It's been a good while since I posted here and to break that streak we have yet another art of my favorite red guy. Together with this post, I also updated my fic after a good while so check that out too.

Would probably make more art not involving him some time soon but I mean come on, who can say no to a face like that?

[degenerativeficsdisease]

alastor x f!reader, she/her pronouns

aftercare chapter

(fic cw: bdsm, dom/sub dynamics, sadomasochism, see additional tags)