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lavender-devotion · 1 month

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The Radio Demon has a WIFE??? And She was a WHAT??? (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Mimzy stops by and brings up a little detail that Alastor forgot to mention: he has a wife...oh yeah, and she used to be a nun. How the fuck did that happen??? -Or- I was watching 'Call the Midwife' and got Alastor brainrot ideas while watching the romance between Sister Bernadette/Sheila and Dr. Turner.

Tags: Fem!Reader (for obvious reasons), She/Her pronouns, No Use of (Y/N), everything I know about being a nun is from a TV show (don't kill me pls), Husk is...so fucking tired, also I couldn’t find a midwife house in New Orleans so I made one up (don’t kill me pls x2) TW: None, other than my possible terrible idiocy regarding nun shit and Catholicism, I feel like me being the author should also be a TW in and of itself ngl Word Count: 2.4k Read it on Ao3 <3

"WHAT?"

Husk winced as Angel's voice echoed throughout the lobby, loud and full of indignation.

"There is no fuckin' way tall, dark, an' creepy is married," he insisted, staring down Mimzy as she took another swig from her glass, "you've gotta be fuckin' with us, right Husk?"

Husk pointedly ignored the question, turning his back to the two idiots and their quickly gathering crowd of spectators—the other residents of the hotel. Alastor didn't like people talking about him unless it was with hate, fear, or admiration- (the arrogant fuck) -and he liked people spreading his personal business around even less.

He wasn't stupid enough to get involved in this conversation, even if Mimzy and Angel apparently were.

Mimzy laughed, "oh please, that's not even the best part! Alastor's sweetheart actually used to be a sister!"

"A sister?"

"Yeah-"

'Don't fuckin' say it-'

"-like a nun!"

'Motherfucker.'

That statement had Angel choking on his drink, everyone else letting out various exclamations of disbelief—all of which only made Mimzy's smile widen. She was enjoying the attention.

"Yeah," she continued, "the pretty thing was actually part of one of the few nunneries that were up and running back in our day—although hers also served as a sorta home base for the midwives in New Orleans before it all became a hospital affair."

"So not only did Smiles somehow manage to get 'imself a sweetheart, but he managed to bag a fuckin' NUN?!" Angel asked incredulously, "how the FUCK did that happen?"

Mimzy grinned mischievously, "well-"

"Mimzy," Husk said, caution and warning in his tone. It was one thing to drop a couple facts and then shut up—Alastor was fond of her- (as "fond" as the bastard was capable of) -so she might be able to get off with a warning—but to start telling stories about his life? Spilling all his carefully guarded secrets?

Yeah, that'd get her killed. Or worse.

Even so, Mimzy either didn't know how secretive Alastor was- (doubtful) -or she was just under the delusional belief that he wouldn't hurt her for her slight- (bingo) -because she just waved off Husk's warning.

"Hm...where should I start?"

---------------

What everyone in Hell tended to forget was that the cruel, bloodthirsty, "Radio Demon" they all feared...used to be a man, used to be human just like all the rest.

Quite the human he was, though.

Obviously he did his fair share of terrible things, he didn't end up in Hell for being a saint, but before any of his...transgressions came into the public eye, people truly thought he was. He'd come from a poor home, his father ran off when he was young, and yes he was an odd child—but all of that seemed inconsequential the older he got.

He worked hard in school and worked his way up in the world until he finally became a famous radio host, the crown jewel of the French Quarter. Even so, all of the attention never seemed to go to his head. His mother's son, always his mother's son, he was the picture of a true gentleman—always polite, always chivalrous, always helping others. It certainly didn't hurt that he was handsome too, and his charm was unmatched by any other man in the city.

As such, it was no shock that he attracted all manner of attention from people vying for his affection, but no one seemed to catch his particular eye. That was, until he met her...

---------------

“Now, keep in mind, I don’t know very much about his missus before they got together,” Mimzy admitted, “but, from what I can tell, she'd always been a mystery, so I don’t think it really matters-“

“Obviously it matters!” Angel interrupted, his drink and everything else long forgotten, “for someone to get together with Smiles willingly, they’ve gotta have some of their own skeletons in the closet! C’mon toots, you gotta know something.”

Mimzy circled a finger around her glass, playing coy, “well…maybe I might know a thing or two…”

Husk wanted to bash his head against a wall.

Fine, fine, fine. It was one thing—one really fucking stupid thing—to talk about Alastor, but to talk about his wife? Especially to fucking gossip about her?

Yeah, no, these morons were definitely dead as soon as Alastor found out.

“Well?” Angel pressed, looking downright desperate for more information.

“Well…”

---------------

Alastor's sweetheart had always been an enigma since the day she arrived in New Orleans, every bit of her covered in that modest black and white clothing—all except her face and hands, of course.

By all accounts, she was a sweet girl—kind, attentive, always willing to help—but she was also very…secretive, one might say. It wasn't that the other nuns weren't reserved, because they were, but she was especially so, and her brand of reservation came across as more underhanded than anything else.

She never talked about her hobbies, her family, her life before taking her vows—hell, she never talked about her life before she moved to New Orleans. So it was no surprise that a fair amount of rumors followed her around, no matter how sweet she appeared to be.

Some said that she was a runaway, trying to escape an abusive father; others said that she moved there to get out of a loveless marriage; and a few even claimed that she was on the run from the law. There was never any evidence to support any of those rumors, of course, but people loved to talk.

One might think that Alastor was drawn to her because of all of those whispers, just chasing down another story for his radio show, but it was actually a mix of pure luck and her work as a midwife that brought those two together.

You see, midwives didn't only deliver babies, but they also offered all sorts of medical assistance to anyone who needed it. These services eventually brought her to his mother’s home one day, and it just so happened that Alastor was also visiting his ma at the time.

The two started talking and, between his magnetic charms and her sweet demeanor, it was no surprise that the two got along like a house fire.

From then on, every time she visited his ma to take care of her, he was there too. Then he started showing up at all of the events hosted by Saint Charlene’s, always finding his way to her side. And there even came a time where he started visiting her frequently, always welcomed by her fellow sisters and the other midwives with open arms.

---------------

“Wait a minute,” Angel interrupted, “I thought nuns weren’t allowed ta be in relationships. It goes against the whole point of bein’ a nun, don’t it?”

Mimzy huffed, “I was getting to that part!”

---------------

Obviously nuns weren’t allowed to have relationships, romantic or sexual, and most people of that time didn’t believe that men and women could simply be friends—so the friendliness they both shared fell under quite a bit of scrutiny. Everyone that knew a thing about that sweet girl knew she would never betray her vows, and everyone that knew a thing about Alastor knew that he’d rather die than be anything less than a perfect gentleman.

But, like I said, people in New Orleans liked to talk.

Neither of them paid any mind to it, though. Alastor was already dealing with the bullshit that came with showbiz and his sweetheart already had a bunch of rumors circulating about her, so what did they care if a few more whispers were added to the pile? But eventually, a painfully long time after the two first met and became friends, there came a day when something that wasn’t quite platonic bloomed between the two of them.

Obviously the two of them were horrified by this; Alastor, because he would never ask her to forsake her vows for him, and her, because she was worried that she was betrayin’ her God by feeling that way.

Eventually she talked to the other nuns, though, and got some help figuring out her emotions and what she wanted to do, and Alastor talked things through with his ma—who was, frankly, overjoyed that he’d finally found someone who he fancied.

Let me tell ya, even with all of the others helpin’, it took fuckin’ forever for those two to finally get together. Between their shared emotional constipation, everyone’s expectations of them, the worry that the other didn’t feel the same way, and the fear of crossing each other’s boundaries…yeah, it took over a year after the two of them figured out they liked each other for them to actually say something.

By the time they finally got their shit together, Alastor’s mom and the other midwives were already planning their wedding. Hell, the nuns were just about ready to rescind her vows themselves, they were so sick of the pining!

Everything worked out in the end, though. The two confessed, his sweetheart did the whole dispensation thing, and the two eventually got married.

----------

“Blah, blah, blah…they got a happily ever after and a white picket fence,” Mimzy finished with a lazy wave of her hand, “so, that's the story."

Angel just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, “huh, I didn’t know tall, dark, and creepy had it in ‘im.”

Mimzy hummed, “yeah, he might seem all big an’ scary, but underneath all that he’s a total doll!”

Husk shuddered as the prickle of static suddenly made his hair stand on end, signaling Alastor’s entrance into the room—along with Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer himself. His eyes immediately found the small group that had gathered by the bar, and it probably wasn’t hard for him to figure out what exactly drew everyone there.

“Now, now, Mimzy, what have you been telling everyone about me?” Alastor chastised, making his way closer to their group. His tone was teasing, but it had a subtle warning at the end—one that said he wasn’t asking for shits n' giggles. It made Husk want to disappear into the wall, to get out of the way of what would follow if Alastor found out the subject of their conversation. Hopefully Angel and Mimzy would have enough sense to keep their mouths shut, but he doubted it.

“Oh, nothing you need ta worry about!” she said, waving him off playfully, “just a couple old stories from back in the day.”

“Is that so?”

Mimzy hummed her affirmative, finishing off her drink, and for one blissful moment Husk thought that the subject would drop and everything would be fine. He was wrong.

“Yeah, and I gotta say I’m surprised atcha Smiles,” Angel snarked, “who knew ya had a missus back home keeping ya on a leash.”

The room went dead silent.

The lights suddenly flickered, a dark red glow casting across the room as they did—mangled shadows dancing on the walls. Husk shrank back, trying his best to blend in with the bottles of alcohol that lined the shelf behind him.

Alastor’s voice was pure radio static, barely restrained rage filtering through, “w̶͚̫̰̰̟̌̆̓̚̚h̵̩̤̹͓̗̾̔͗̇̉å̴̱̩̝͚̎́̐̔̏͜†̸̡͔̲̠͔̔̎̆̀̕ ̸̲̠͔̟̗͗͑̾͐͘Ð̷̡̠̥̞͚̔̾̋̋͘ï̶̩̼̻̱̣̓̀̅͆̑Ð̸̣͍̞̬͖͋͑̽͗̚ ̶͈͙̤̺̲̒̒̒̎̀¥̷̭̻̥̘͈̇̓͑́́ð̵̢̲͕͈͇͐͊̓̀̓µ̴͕̬͕̟̟͊͊͂͗͘ ̵̪̲̫̳͍͑̑͒̔͐j̶̨̦̹̪̟̄̽̽̄͘µ̸̧̭͖͇̞̈́̔̀̒͒§̵̺̠͚͓͓̓͂̚͘͝†̷̛̖̤̰̗͓͋̄̇̑ ̸̢̩͙̙̫̊͗̃͘͝§̷̻̣̼̼͙̎͋̂͆͝ą̸̡̛̱̣̻̊̈́̈́̑́¥̶̢̟̼̘̲̃̿̐͑͠?̴͉̞̠̞̦̒͌̋͗̓”

‘Fuck.’

----------

You hummed quietly as you sat on the couch in your and Alastor’s shared home, sketching whatever came to mind in one of the small notebooks he’d bought you—working away the time and trying to ignore his glaring absence. It wasn’t often you were left yearning for your husband’s presence, finding plenty to do during the times he was gone, but today you wanted nothing more than for him to walk through the door. Luckily, you got your wish, although things certainly weren’t how you expected.

As soon as Alastor walked in, you could tell he was pissed. It was in his posture, his strained smile, the violent crackle of interference in the air. Even his shadow seemed agitated, flitting from one spot to another as if it simply couldn’t sit still.

“Al?” You asked carefully, “is everything alright?”

He turned to you, obviously trying to pass off the illusion of placidity, “everything is fine, my dear, why do you ask?”

“Well you just seem–” the lights around the house flickered, and you could hear a few of them bust in the other rooms, “...tense.”

He kept up the mask for a moment longer, still trying to fool you, but it dropped soon enough and he let out an irritated sigh.

“...certain people need to learn to keep their insignificant little mouths shut.”

You set aside your notebook and gestured for him to sit next to you, a request he obliged. Almost immediately your hands went to his shoulders and you began massaging them, trying to alleviate some of the tension practically radiating off of him—drawing an almost relieved sigh from his mouth.

You pressed a barely-there kiss to the back of his neck, “what happened, love?”

…

“Mimzy stopped by the hotel today and during her stay she decided to fucK̶̝̥̘̪͍̉͋́̈̅Ḭ̴̛̭̪͇̀͋̐̍͂͜ñ̷̡̤̩̖̰̈́͂̑̐͝G̴̞̯̭͈̘͋̒̑̅̚ ̵͇͕͓͕̗͆̃͛͊̂Ġ̶̝̱̪͈̘̽̌͗͝Ö̶̼̲̬̪̟̏̌̄̚͝§̴̺̱̲̫̝̍̈͆̃́§̶̧̞̣̼̮̂͊͋͌͠Ì̷̲̰̹̰͚͌̀̌̇̂þ̴̢̥̰̖̬͒́͌̏̿ ̸̝̺̪̟̈́͊̅̏̆ͅÄ̷͎̘͓̬͇̋̍͑̏͠ß̵̢̫͇̣̻́̊͆͆͝Ö̸̡̤̤̤͙̀̎̿͛͝Ú̸̟̯̺͈̪̇̓̊͐̊†̸̘̺͎͖̣̂̍̽̋̚ ̷̪̺̖̜͇̀͂͒̚͝Ö̴̮̯̗͙̑̆̽̄̚ͅỨ̸̫̯̰̺̼̈́̄̐͝R̸̨̢̧̭͓̒͊̋̇͘ ̵̧̥̗̰͖̅̌̒̿̃þ̶̦̞̫̙͕̈̒̀̿̚Ȩ̵̞̖̲͖̀͗̂̎͝͝R̸̢̪̟̜̮̉̌͒̉̃§̴̢̣͇̠̫̓̀̈͗̽Ö̴̟͕͓̤̀̈́̒͘͜͠ñ̶̛̙͍̼͖͔̎̓̐̋Ä̶̢̬͇͙̟̌͌̃̈͌L̴̨̪͎̟̦̄̇̈̓̿ ̶̨̧̰̼̮̈͒̀̒͝L̸͖̬̙̮̗̂̓̀͘̚Ì̴͙̠͈̺̣͌̓͊̓̓V̷̯̭̞̙͖͆̐̾͗̔Ę̴̪̻̤̀̾͑͆͜͝͝§̷̛͚̤͇̫̘̑͆̾͘.̵̡̥̪̫͇̽̋̑͝͝ §̶͎̣̝̳͓͋̊̀̌͆ð̵̢̼̖̝̭̏̇̕̕͝ ̵̘̜͚̠̫́͊̈́͐̽Ì̷̢̧͖͚͙̆̔̌̓̏ ̸̻̩̪͓̞̀͑͒̇͋†̴̧͉̯̻̳̒̽͋̾̋ð̵̟͙͍̳͈͒̈́̑̍̑ð̸̲̤̞̞̙̄̅͛̓͠k̷̖̪̩̭͇͋̒̀͘͘ ̶̢̛̗̞͍̱̒̅͐͘ï̸̢̢͕̩̰̍̍̽̈́̈́†̵̠̥̖̗̌̌̾̿͠ͅ ̵͙̹̦͎̬͆́̈͗͛µ̸̧̼̲̮̙͊͂̑̓͌þ̶̹̬̫̥̹̓̑̆͘͝ð̷̡̺͖̣̇̅̔͐͑ͅñ̸̼͙̦͕̼̏̐͗͘̕ ̵̢̱̺͖͋̄͌͊̊ͅṁ̸͉̜͙͖͍̓̍͗͝¥̶̨̠̜̮̜̑͑͗̎̌§̵̧̜͉̣̓́͛̇̓ͅḛ̸̠̲̝̤̂̓̎̓͌̈́ĺ̵̛̻̭͚̝̹̽͐̍£̵̠̫̲̹̬̍̊̾̍̕ ̴̧̭̘̞̀̀͋́̄͜†̵̨̰̠̫̖̎̋̃̂͘ð̴̨͍̭̤̙̄̑̎͝͠ ̴̯̟̟̖̜͒͂͌͒̉§̶̪̜̙͎͎́̒̍̾͝h̷̝̻̞̖̄̅̔̆̕͜µ̵̨̨̛̣̬͓̍̑͋́†̶̨̢̰̤͙̌̀̈̈́͆ ̴͔̟̻̫̐͊̓͑̉͜ĥ̴̢̯͔̯̈́̇̑͋͜ê̵̡̳̠͖̺͋͒͐̍̇r̸̝̘͍̙̂͑́̃͊ͅ w̷̸̼̠͓̟͍̣͓̪͚͊̈͗̉̄̊̍̍̇̀͜h̵̥͓͕̲͉̋̓͊́̈́ð̴̨̡͚̲̦̄̃̄̓͋r̸̖̲̮̮͐͌͑́̃ͅę̴͖͇͙̥̂̐͛͌͒̽ ṃ̷̨̱͈̭̀̃͂́͘ð̵̧̛͎̗̟̒̇̈̊ͅµ̴̨̛̖͈̱͈̑̋́̕†̵͚̝̜̟͍̔̈̀̈́̆h̵͚̞͔̗̖̀͒̀͛͘.̴̳̙̞̗̬͒́͆̂͂”

The sudden surge of static and shadow didn’t phase you, even as Alastor struggled to not shift into his demonic form—sharp cracks of green light appearing on the walls.

When you’d first found out about his…extracurricular activities, you had been afraid and confused, but now it was nothing more than background noise. He was still the man you fell in love with, still your husband, even if he occasionally killed and ate the degenerates of the world and anyone that pissed him off.

All things considered, you were just glad that you’d ended up in Hell with him, even if the things you'd had to do to ensure that were...distasteful.

You wrapped your arms around him, nestling your head into the crook of his neck. A luxury that no one else enjoyed but you.

“That does sound stressful. Is everything handled now, at least?”

“Yes,” he drawled, leaning back further into you, “unfortunately I was unable to get rid of the other l̷̡͈̼̘̩̾͌̉͝͠ï̸̗̭̝̥̺̈́̓̐̿̚†̴̢̡͕͖̹͌͌̋̈́͗†̸̢̣͖͚͔̓̌̉̾̐l̶̡̪͙͕͗͐̍́̕͜ę̴̡̦͕̜̂͋̏̅͘͝ ̵̰̥̩̺̪̀̋̉͑̍§̸̖̥̦̗͓̏̋̉̈́̃h̶͓͙̯͔͇̎̏̾̕̚ï̴̧̡̱̗̻̈́͗͆̃̀†̴̣̖̯̭͉̂͐͒̍̀§̵̧̡̹̼̹͒̿̍̋͠, as Charlie has taken a liking to them, but I trust that I got my point across.”

“Good.”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Now…when do I get to meet these ‘little shits’ that get on your nerves so often?” you teased, drawing an amused chuckle from him.

“Don’t even start, darling.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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lavender-devotion · 28 days

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Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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lavender-devotion · 1 month

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Gambling With Souls (Alastor x GN!Reader)

Summary: You made a deal with Husk a long time ago, and ended up paying a lot more than you bargained for. Now you worked in one of his casinos, waiting on him and the people he gambled with hand and foot. One day Husk is challenged to a game by another Overlord, one with red eyes and a sharp ever-present smile…and, despite everything, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. What happens when the two of them start gambling with souls…and yours is thrown into the betting pool? Disclaimer: Husk is going to act pretty different than he does in the show and, yes, he's not going to be very nice to you---this is not me demonizing him. He's an Overlord, he's gonna act like one.

Tags: Alastor x GN!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), I only know Texas Hold ‘Em so that’s what we’re going with, One-sided Husk x GN!Reader (maybe, idk, it's up to your interpretation) TW: Abuse, Alcohol, Groping Word Count: 3.3k Read it on Ao3 <3

The moment you'd agreed to gamble with Husk, your life had ended.

You were a strong demon, not an Overlord---considering you hadn't owned any souls---but still not someone to mess with. Still, it was an incredibly stupid idea to gamble with an Overlord like him, especially since he was known for his proficiency in such things. You didn't remember what exactly had possessed you to think you could possibly win, but it didn't really matter now, did it?

He'd challenged you, and you had accepted.

You lost.

And now your soul was his to do with as he pleased.

Of all the demons who owned souls, Husk was considered by far the worst. He was a gambler and a drunk. He won hands, yes, but he also lost them---and it wasn't exactly uncommon for him to bet the souls he owned in lieu of money. Especially against other Overlords.

You could be working for him in one of his casinos as a dealer and in the span of one hand you were suddenly being dragged to the Vee district and forced to work as a porn star for Valentino, subject to his abuse and the abuse of your "co-stars," only to see your pain broadcasted across Hell to get people off.

Or to the Carmine district to work in a factory, building weapons that would probably kill you one day and dealing with the effects of the toxic gas and physical labor, slowly decaying over time.

Or to the district owned by Zestial...no one knew what happened to the souls he owned, and you sure as hell didn't want to find out.

Oddly enough, though, Husk seemed to take a liking to you. He always had you work at his personal gambling table---serving drinks, food, or rigging the game in his favor when he was in particularly deep shit and didn't want to lose.

And he never bet your soul.

Ever.

Sometimes he would bet you doing certain...activities, sometimes he would bet your time, sometimes he would bet a kiss, but never your soul.

Sometimes you were grateful for it, for the security it brought and the routine---you were rarely ever caught off guard when it came to Husk. Grateful for the knowledge that, hey, at least you would never be traded off to someone worse.

Other times, however, you hated it. Hated that he treated you like his prized show pony, hated that he was willing to pass you around but never loosen the chain on your neck, hated the fact that there was no escape...

...at least, there was no escape, until Husk gambled with him.

----------

It was never a good thing when Husk called you over to his table, so when one of the girls you worked with waved you down and directed you over to him---right before the end of your shift, I might add---you were...less than thrilled, let's say.

It had already been a hard enough day. It was like every jackass in Hell had decided to all get assigned to your tables at once---being loud and unruly, smacking your ass, spilling drinks, causing trouble---and, of course, none of your coworkers were any help. Your feet were killing you from all of the moving around, a customer had spilled a drink on you so now your uniform was more uncomfortable than usual, and you could definitely feel a migraine coming on.

The last thing you wanted to do was stay however many hours past your scheduled time just to plaster on a fake smile and be Husk's plaything. All you wanted was to go home and go to sleep, but the universe apparently hated you.

Fuck your life.

As you approached Husk's table, your attention was immediately drawn to the man sitting across from him. He was noticeably taller than Husk, even without the antlers atop his head---joined by a pair of red and black ears that matched the rest of his hair. He was dressed in a red suit and tailcoat that seemed to be 1930's in style, and a staff in the shape of a vintage microphone rested right next to him.

What was most eye-catching about him, though, was his smile.

Husk was an irritating man, that's just what he was like. He was arrogant without the sense to hide it, too certain of his own success every time he played a game, a hefty shit talker, usually drunk, and irritable and rude when he wasn't. Half of your job was often playing nice to soothe his opponents, trying to keep him out of trouble. Like I said, he was an irritating man.

And yet, even though it was obvious that Husk was getting on this man's last nerve, his smile never faltered. It was...unsettling, to say the least. Oddly enough, though, you found your interest in the man piquing---he didn't look like the type to gamble, after all, so what was he doing here?

As soon as you made it to the table, you plastered on a smile of your own and greeted them, mentally preparing yourself so that you didn't try to throttle one or both of them.

"Hello gentleman," you said, voice falsely bright and cheerful, "will I be dealing for you today or grabbing some drinks?"

Husk turned to you, grinning cockily and...oddly not drunk. Not sober, of course, but clearly more sober than you'd ever seen him before.

"Dealin' for us today, sweetheart," he said, smooth and low---almost flirty. You mentally shuddered.

Despite your distaste, you nodded and made your way to the middle of the table, going ahead and opening a fresh deck of cards before shuffling them---waiting for Husk to tell you which game they were going to play, and therefore what you'd be dealing out.

He turned to his opponent, "now, what game 're we playin'?"

"Your choice," the man replied, his voice overlaid by sharp radio static.

Husk laughed, and part of you wondered if this stranger had a death wish. Didn't he know who Husk was? Didn't he know what a terrible idea it was to give him, not only the advantage of playing in one of his casinos and choosing the dealer, but also the advantage of choosing the game?

What was he playing at?

Never one to pass up an opportunity to gain the upper hand, Husk---grinning---told you the game he wanted to play, and you began dealing out the cards. Quickly, the stranger recognized it.

"Ah, Texas Hold Em', hm?" He hummed, static crackling slightly in an almost-laugh, "a classic! What made you choose such a game?"

"I just figured a basic game like this would be easy enough for you to keep up with," Husk replied, the little insult sliding smoothly off his tongue. The stranger's eyes narrowed and you cringed, mentally praying to whatever god would listen that he wouldn't take his anger at Husk out on you, as was all too common among the characters he gambled with. Thankfully, his eyes never left Husk and he made no move to harm you as you set up the game, now divvying up the chips between them.

Just before you were about to start the game, however, Husk held up a hand to stop you---a dangerous glint in his eyes that made you shudder.

"Why don't we make this game a little more interesting," he said, and you could already guess what he was about to suggest.

The stranger's head tilted ever-so slightly, "what did you have in mind?"

"Why don't we gamble with something a little more valuable than money...something like the souls we own."

The stranger's smile widened imperceptibly, and you got the uncanny feeling that this is what he'd wanted in the first place. Not Husk's money, but the souls in his possession.

'Perhaps Husk's soul as well,' something in your mind whispered, but you brushed it off. Husk never gambled his soul either, so there's no way that would happen---even if that was what the stranger was there for.

Once the stranger voiced his agreement, Husk snapped his fingers and his chips radiated with a silver glow, each chip being branded with a mark that symbolized exactly whose soul was being bet. His soul was branded on a Black chip, the most expensive piece---ever present, even if he'd never bet it. Yours was a Red, the second most expensive.

He gestured to the stranger, signaling that it was his turn. The stranger followed suit and snapped his fingers, this time a bright green enveloping the chips in front of him---starkly contrasting to the rest of his appearance. His chips were now branded with their own marks as well. A Black chip with green details was branded with a bright red 'A,' and you could only assume that was his own soul.

After it was clear that the two were ready, you flipped the first three cards, and the game began.

----------

At first, things almost seemed normal, once the game had started.

You dealt the hands, split the chips in the betting pool, and watched as the two Overlords went back and forth with the flow of the game. Occasionally another one of Husk’s employees would come over and serve them drinks, but other than that none of it caught your attention.

Well, one thing caught your attention.

The stranger’s shadow.

It seemed to dance around with a mind of its own, never losing its smile, just like the stranger himself. The shadow sometimes messed with the chips on the stranger’s side of the board, sometimes it played with the ice in the empty glasses on the table, but most of the time it seemed almost…fascinated by you.

It messed with your hair, helped you shuffle and collect the cards, tugged playfully at the edges of your uniform, and simply stuck by your side most of the time. It was a nice change from the attention you were used to dealing with from customers, or from Husk himself.

The way people would scream at you when they were angry, the wandering hands that would grope or hit or grab, the catcalls and lustful threats, the glasses of alcohol that people would throw at you…this was nothing like any of that. You liked it, it made you feel…precious, in a way. Valued. Cared for, oddly enough.

The stranger seemed amused by the antics, occasionally raising an eyebrow at his shadow only to receive an innocent shrug in response.

…

Husk, on the other hand, was not so amused.

“Get control of your fuckin’ shadow,” Husk snapped at the stranger as it tugged gently on a piece of your hair, drawing a small smile from you. One that immediately disappeared as you heard Husk’s voice.

“Now now,” the stranger chastised, seeming even more amused at Husk’s irritation, “it’s only having a little fun, no need to lose your temper.”

Husk muttered something under his breath, no doubt some string of insults, but still, he dropped the subject. You tried not to pay any more attention to the shadow after that, not wanting Husk to get angry at you as well.

Husk didn’t seem to notice…but the stranger did.

“Husker, you have quite the specimen working for you here," he said, radio static curling around his voice in an almost...flirtatious(?) purr as he turned to look at you, "what's your name, my dear?"

You flushed slightly before giving him your name, asking his in return. After all, you'd prefer to stop thinking of him as "the stranger."

He repeated your name slowly, sounding out each syllable, before responding, "Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet-"

"Your turn," Husk interrupted, voice grating, and the stranger- Alastor's gaze snapped to him, lip curling even as his smile stretched.

"Of course," he replied, irritation clear in his tone, "pets have such short attention spans, wouldn't want you getting distracted from our game, now would we?"

"The only one getting distracted here is you."

Alastor only hummed in response, raising the bet as he did so.

You glanced between the two, the tension between them palpable, and you were more than a little worried that a fight might break out---but, thankfully, neither made a move towards the other. They just sat there, glaring.

You cleared your throat, trying to dispel some of the animosity, "raise or call?"

Husk pushed a stack of chips forward, "raise."

----------

This is how the game went, back and forth.

Husk winning some hands, and Alastor winning some in return---almost like a dance, a game.

You watched, enthralled, as the two continued on...and as Husk slowly, surely, lost more and more souls. Usually, when it was clear that one of the players were going to lose, they would call the game off---cut their losses and stop before things got any worse.

But, for whatever reason, Husk refused to do just that. In fact, the more hands Husk lost, the more determined he seemed to keep playing---to the point where, if you didn't know him well, you'd think he was gambling under the influence. It was...surprising, to say the least, and by the time Husk seemed to realize how deep of a hole he'd dug himself into, it was too late. His only choice was to keep playing and hope his luck turned around.

He had no reason to be worried, though, and he knew that.

All because he had you.

You see, there was a reason why Husk always had you serving his table. It was because of your power, what you could do for him during these games.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly what your power was, since it manifested differently depending on what you used it to do, but---in simple terms---it was almost like you had control over reality. A small part of it, at least. You could control things...well, under your control. Your appearance, the clothes you wore, anything you made, or---in this case---any game you dealt for.

There weren't any rules against the dealer controlling the game. Husk made certain of it. There was even a clause in the fine print of every contract people signed to play with him, one that gave you full permission to do as you pleased during the game, as long as you were the dealer.

So, sooner or later, Husk would give you the signal to turn things in his favor and you would do as you were told.

...

Well, apparently, it was sooner.

Husk gave you the signal, and you sunk into the familiar warmth of your power---subtly seizing control of the game. You knew the cards in Husk's hands and in Alastor's, as well as all the cards on the board.

Alastor would have two pair, Husk would have one.

Your fingers twitched slightly and the unflipped cards changed, giving Husk three of a kind and Alastor one pair.

Husk won that round.

Safe to say, Husk started to get "spontaneously" lucky, and get some of his souls---his power---back. Alastor, surprisingly, didn't seem at all bothered or shocked by this. If anything, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he wasn't losing hundreds of souls with every hand. It unsettled you, and it definitely seemed to unsettle Husk---even though he tried his best to hide it.

Eventually, though, just as you thought that---surely---Alastor had had enough and was about to call the game off, he said something that stopped you in your tracks.

"All in."

Your power faltered for a moment as you stared at him, eyes wide, and you lost all knowledge of what was on the board. Husk was staring too, mouth hanging open, before a surprised laugh slipped from his mouth.

"You're kiddin', there's no way you-"

Once again, Alastor simply said, "all in."

Sliding his soul chip forward. Smile ever-present.

You glanced at Husk, silently wondering what he was going to do. Even with you controlling the game, he'd still never gambled his soul. Whether that was because he didn't trust that you'd let him win or because he didn't want to take the risk of your power failing, you didn't know, but still...he never bet it.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and, after a moment, Husk shook his head in disbelief...before calling Alastor's bet. A first for him, and for you. You took a deep breath and took control of the game again, ready to change the cards, before Alastor---once again---stopped you in your tracks.

"Is this what you want?" He asked, and you froze.

"...what?"

"Is this what you want?" He repeated, sounding genuinely curious, "to spend the rest of your afterlife working here, for this man? Letting him bet your body, your choices, letting him control your free will?"

You blinked. Surprised.

No one had ever asked you what you wanted before.

"I don't..." you trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say to that. Unsure of how to answer the question.

Husk glared at him, the topic of conversation clearly hitting a nerve, "why don't you shut the fuck up and mind your own business you-"

"You don't have to, my dear," Alastor continued, cutting Husk off, "you do have a choice, you know. You could choose to help me, instead of him, or to let fate take its hold."

It hit you then that Alastor knew that Husk was cheating, that he knew you were helping him. And still, he played the game...still, he treated you with kindness and respect.

He was right, though, you did have a choice. The contract of the game specified that you could do whatever you wanted with your control of the game, so long as you were the dealer and not one of the players.

If you wanted, you could make Husk lose.

You could force him into the same position that he'd forced you into.

You could break free from his grip.

Husk growled your name and your gaze snapped toward him. It was a warning, a threat. He owned your soul, he could do whatever he pleased with it, so you better listen to him.

Alastor said your name softly, drawing your attention back to him. A careful reminder. You still had a choice in this, Husk couldn't make you do anything right now. You could always choose not to help him, to help Alastor instead. All for the chance at a better life.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes...

...

...before letting go of all control of the game.

Whatever happened now, it was up to the cards. Not you.

Husk slammed his hands down on the table, making you jump back as piles of chips tumbled to the floor, but before you could get farther away, he lunged at you and grabbed your throat---seething with rage.

"YOU FUCKIN' BITCH, HOW DARE YOU-"

Before he could finish his sentence, or cause you any harm, a green chain suddenly formed around his neck and pulled him back---making him fall to the ground. Your gaze snapped up, only to find Alastor at the other end of the chain---his shadow laughing behind him, grin wide. From there you glanced at the table, only to find-

Alastor had a Royal Flush...

...and Husk had nothing.

You glanced back at Husk and then, again, at Alastor---the reality of everything slowly setting in. Your soul no longer belonged to Husk, even if you were still tied to another Overlord. Now, though, Husk had fallen from his ivory tower.

Now he was just like you.

You couldn't help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up from your chest, a weight you hadn't even known was there suddenly disappearing. It was over. It was all over.

"I guess the house always wins," you managed to get out through your laughter, unable to contain the bright smile that took over your face. You were free of him. You were free of him.

"Indeed, my dear," Alastor replied, chuckling at your little joke, "I can already tell, you and I are going to get along just fine."

You would never admit it, but you thought so too.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

786 notes · View notes

lavender-devotion · 12 days

Note

hi, i saw you were taking requests after i read your newest piece [which was phenomenal by the way].

i was wondering if you could write a [predominately] angsty fic where reader tries to patch alastor up after the final battle but since he doesn’t like being vulnerable he snaps at her [they were close and so she didn’t expect it]. ensue her avoiding him after the hotel is rebuilt and angst in general.

i’ll entrust the ending to you [whatever it is].

apologies for the long request, thank you in advance.

- ⚰️ anon.

Ahhh thank you so much <3 and don't apologize for the long ask, I love it when people send me asks so I'm not picky! Sorry if this one's a bit short, I've been dealing with a lot of college stuff, so I haven't had a lot of time 😅

Summary: Alastor was never one to back down from a challenge, even in the face of danger or the possibility of death, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he volunteered to take on Adam by himself---but you knew that, as powerful as he was, he wasn't invincible. So you go looking for him after the battle, and find him injured, and try to help him...only for him to snap at you in a way that he never had before. Afterwards, he tries to make everything go back to normal, but you...you can't pretend.

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Angst, (Attempted) Wound Tending, Emotional Hurt/No Comfort, Alastor is an Asshole TW: None (I think, correct me if I'm wrong) Word Count: 1.1k Read it on Ao3 <3

You liked to help.

Ever since you'd first come to the hotel, you always liked to help.

Whether it was cleaning the bar for Husk so he could go to bed early, brainstorming new ideas for the daily activities with Charlie, picking up a shipment of things for the hotel when Vaggie was too busy, or even helping Angel "clean up" after a particularly hard shoot. You were always there whenever someone needed you.

One thing you'd learned very quickly, however, was that Alastor never needed help.

...

Let me rephrase.

Alastor never wanted help.

Every time you tried to assist him---whether it was coming up with new ideas for radio broadcasts, trying to stitch up his coat for him, or offering to pick up his...ingredients from Rosie---he always brushed you off and insisted that he could do whatever it was himself. However, after refusing your help, he would always invite you along to do whatever it was with him.

At first you found it odd and were, understandably, suspicious of his intentions—after all, you’d heard your fair share of warnings from the other hotel employees…but then, over time, he grew on you. His gentlemanly demeanor and old fashioned charm softened you a bit and, although it would’ve been so easy for him to, he never took advantage of that.

After a time it even became obvious that you were his weak point—he would be callous and cruel and hateful to everyone…except you. He never raised a hand to you, never tried to scare you, never even raised his voice. You were precious to him, and he would never do anything to hurt you.

So, when you found out that he’d been injured during the fight with Adam, it was second nature for you to try and help him.

That…would become a decision that you’d regret.

----------

Your heart pounded in time with your footsteps as you rushed to the remains of Alastor’s radio tower, praying that that was where he’d disappeared to as you made your way through rubble and fallen debris. Fuck, you’d never felt more scared in your life than when you heard Adam's words-

"Radio is fucking dead!"

-and then...you'd been unable to find Alastor anywhere. There was so much going on, you were so busy healing others with your magic, you'd barely been able to look before Charlie said that Alastor was dead. But she didn't know for sure, none of you did, and you figured that if Alastor was still alive then he would go somewhere he felt safe, and-

Well.

You decided to look for him.

You had to.

You had to know.

It took you a while, but once you finally made it to the radio tower you were relieved to hear someone else moving around, talking with the familiar overlay of white-noise static. Alastor was alive.

Before you could stop and think about what you were doing, you rushed forward through the only opening big enough for someone to walk through, only to find exactly who you were looking for...only...not quite as you were expecting him.

Alastor was definitely injured, from what you could tell, but he was still on his feet---up and pacing back and forth, rambling to himself about...a deal? Maybe? His mutterings were so nonsensical that you couldn't really tell. What you did know, however, was that---for once---he was going to have to accept your help.

"Alastor?" You asked gently, carefully and slowly making your way towards him. His eyes snapped to you, wild and unfocused in a way that caught you off guard---you'd never seen him like this before.

"What the £̸̙̘̪̙̪̿̈́̈͊͝µ̶̢̯͚̟̹͆̓̈́́͝¢̵̢̯̞͚͎͑̃̌͊͝k̶̠̲̜̪͉͐̊͆̃͝ are you doing here?" He snapped and you had to physically fight back a flinch. Alastor never talked to you that way.

Ignoring his behavior, you continued to make your way forward until you were only about an arm's length away from him, close enough now to clearly see the wound. It was definitely caused by an angelic weapon, the area around it glowing slightly from the residue the weapon behind, and it looked deep---Alastor was definitely going to need stitches. You reached out a hand to gently probe the wound, just to check that there wasn't any stray debris inside, but before you could even brush his skin, he smacked your hand away harshly.

Safe to say, you were shocked, and had a hard time reconciling Alastor---your Alastor---with the man in front of you.

"Don't touch me!"

"Alastor, you're injured...I just want to help you."

His head snapped towards you at that, eyes darkening to radio dials as he snarled at you.

"Help me? You think you can help me?!"

You almost tripped over your feet as you tried to back away, Alastor's form switching erratically from normal to demonic---Alastor towering over you. And, for the first time in your life, you were scared of...

Scared of him.

"Listen here you little W̵̨̧͕͔̹͋͋̈́̆̍R̵̭̟͉̝̣̈́̔̔͌͘È̴̝̞̣̗̹̀́̀̒͒†̸̭͇͎̫̮̈́̄̌̌͝Ç̵̢̺̝̱̭̀͐̈́̓̃H̷̨̛̻̩̘̥̍̿̊͠, you are ñ̷̛̮͈͎͇͋̃͐͜͠Ö̶̢̦͉̭̺͂̋̔̚̚†̸͙̮̣͓̮̑͒̈́̊̇Ḩ̴̫͓̲̟̽͋͂̿͝Ì̴͈̯̮̟̪̈́̃̽̆͐ñ̴͈̲̥̯͙͊̉̑̓̊Ĝ̵̼̹̼͓̬̇͆̀̐, you help ṉ̵̢̞̯̝̃̂̒͗̇͝Ö̶̡̖̼̼̞̒̓͐̏͛ ̷̧̢̦̗̺̐̔̆̚͝Ö̷̧̡̝̣̝̋̈͂͊̌ñ̸̳̫͈̥̠͗̊͌͠͝È̴̠̤̜͓̫͌̑̓̐͂," he yelled at you, radio static screeching loudly in your ears, "THE ONLY REASON ANYONE KEEPS YOU AROUND IS BECAUSE þ̴̖̯̯̘̉͑̉̊͜͝R̷̻̲̹͕̱͊̿̾̔̕Ì̸̠̺̞̪̩̋͛̈́͘͝ñ̷͎͍̘̺̪̓̿̒̓̔Ç̴̣̲͙̲̀͑̊̃̐͜Ȩ̴͍̟͚̯̀̈́́̀͛͒§̷̛̱̳̣̜͐͐͝͝ͅ§̷̨̛͍͚̱̲̇́͆͆ ̴̛̭̹̻̙̝́̏͂́M̴̻͈̞̜̥̉̏̔̒̂Ö̸̡̱̼̬̻̈̾̄̾̕R̵̫͉͚̖̽̈́͌̽̓͜ņ̷̛̝͎̃͛́̓̽͜ͅÌ̵̡̘̼͕̜͋́̌́͠ñ̶̢̞̱̰͓̑̇̇̑͆Ḡ̶͎̼͍̮̤͆̄́͛§̸̛̖̻͎̱̦͑́̇͘†̸̧̡͙̯̖̔̿̀̃͘Ä̴̡̺̲͍͗̓̒̈́͘͜R̷̭̲̠̗̙̀͆͑́̔ THINKS YOU CAN BE REDEEMED, YOU'RE FUCKING W̵̢̢̢̛̛̺̠͖̣͎̯̼̻̱̣̖̬̣̣̞̭̠̪̼̼̗̻͇͎͔̩̬͈̭̟͇̮̹̣͓̙̲̥̫̲͍̠̪̮̳͆̏̌͐͌͛̓̎͒̆͆́̀͑̽́̀̉͌̏͆̉̑̊̈́͒̂̆̂͐̆͂͘̕͘̕͜͝͝ͅǪ̸̡̢̛̛̘̮̟̹̻̳̻̳͓͇̞̜̞̘͍͎̳͍͈͕͔̝̲̈̏̆͗̇̌͛̑͋̓̔̈́͂̀̍͋̈̌̏̒́̋͛͒͛̉́͋͂̍͐̈̏̀͘͘̚̕͝͝͝͝R̶̡̡̞̠͔͖̮̮̰̦̫̮̻͔͍̠̮̹̜͔͚̠͎̥̥͗̉̃̉̄́̃̔͒̆̓̐̆̏͗̎̍̌̿̽̊͗́̕̕͘͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅ†̸̡̧̙̭̠͈̭̻͇̻̺̥̥͎̼͎͕̪̹̖̗̹̺̹̠̭͖͊͒̊̐̾̀̇̑͌̃̽̐͆͑̓̍͂̏̾̓́̾̽̚̕̚̚͜ͅH̶̨̧̛̛̛͚̱̩̫̰̣̣͔͍̳̯̥̭̲̜͕̗̻̺̻̺͈͈͇͚͔̲̼̭̟̳̻̙͛̔̾̉̑́̌̎̑̌̅̐͂́́̀̄̋̎͊̉̎̊́͑̓͂͊͛́̉̃̋͌͂͂͛͒̅̌͒͋̉̈́͘͘̚͜͝͝ͅͅL̸̨̡̢̨̛̯̤̪̮̭̫̺̰̞̬͍̜͎͎̫͔̠͍̺͖̭̭͕͇͊́́̓͛͆̄̑̃͋̓̑̓̌̀͑̓͂̆̓͐̽̓̂̑̽̓̅́̾̕̚͜͝͝͝͝͝Ȩ̴̡̧̛͙͓̻̫͚̜̘͉̼̺̬͍̻̖͎̠̥̻̟̤͍̭͙̦͙̤̟̬͍̤͎̯̙͚͙̜̲͎̲̞̣̣͚̥̯͇̀̂̋̿̑̔͋̅̆͋̊̇̈́̅͌̽͌̉͗̆̾̂̈́͋̾͛̓͒͗̉̈́͊̿́̑̕͜͝͠͝͠͝§̶̢̧̢̢̛̛̛͖̫̠̼͓̠̫̙͎̦̙̙̪̰͕͈͎̰̖̦̱͔̻̪͉̊̍̌̑̑͑̽̃̆͆͂́̇̆̓̊̿̍̂͋͋͑̆̈́́̄̇͗̆͆̋̕͘͝͝ͅ§̷̧̧̧̡̡̡̛̛̛̪͉̺͙̜̜͎̙̭̺͈̪̲̺̹͈̘̰͔̮͇͎̀̈́̍͗͋̏̂̍̅́̔̾̒̂͑͒͑̌͊̊͆̈́̓̉͛̈́̎͊͂͆̅̄̿̇͂̇̄͌̎͐͝͝͠ͅ AND THERE IS NO CHANGING THAT!!!"

He grabbed your arm, leaning so close that you could see small dots of brown in his blood red eyes, "you want to help me, Ð̸̡̨̨̛̛̛̪̜̫̙͙̯͙̹̮̤̗͈̝̞̜̱̥̯̫̝͕̘̯̪̠̱̣͈̣͇͕̮͙̙̺̮̺̩̘̠̫̬̘̱͖̇͗̇̏̔̏̍̃̇͐̈́͌̐͌̋̉̀̔̄͋̀̒̕͘̚͜͜͜ͅå̸̢̧̢̢̡̛̛͈̤̬̪͇̞̦̺̻̝̫̙͈̼͎̙͈͈͎̗̘̞̦̙̠͆́͛̔̅̎̅̍͆́̏̇̇̏͗̌̓̌̏̋̏̈́͑͌͐̈́̈́̊͐͑̀̓́͘͘ŗ̷̨̡̧̛͖͖͙̱̳̻͙̠̞͙͉̺̥͍͉̞̺̠̭̯͎̘̰͎̳̻̞̠̪̠̩͍̘̹̯̹͙̱̆́̎̂̄̓̓͂̏͂͊̿̃̊̐̏̎̈́̄͐͊́̿͂̉̌̄̓̉̾̌̋̔́͂̓̈̔̓̐̚͘̚͜͝͝͝͠ͅl̸̡̢̡̧̧̧̢̧̛̹̠̩̣̩̗͈̝̻̻̦̠̗͚̯͚̳̗͎̙̠͎̤̥̫͎̼̘͍̟͍͔̳͚̟̪̹̣̱̏͛͗̓̓͗̽͗̈́͑̎́̓̀̄̓̌͛͆̓̊̅̓̆͂̊̃̾͑̈́͋̇̈́̂̕̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅï̴̧̢̫̖͖̲͈̰͇̞̟̺͚̜̻͙̯͇̪̱͍̘̺̖͈̯͎̬̳̱͈͍͙̱̹̤̭̬̈́͌͛̊͋̏́̀̓͑̏̀͆͗̋̐̂͂̅͒̈̑̔̿̏̓́͛̈͑́̂̾̓̄͑͊̔̚͘͜͠ñ̴̡̢̨̢̨̨̧̛̛̗̖̜̱͈̣̰̰͖̥̝̮͚͍̟̦͉̩̤͕̺̳̹̫̩̖͓͇̻͈͚͉͎͈̪͖̮̞̹͊̊̐̉̇̉̂͋͒̆̍͑͂̽͒̐́̈́̓̓̎̇́͘̚͠͝͝g̷̨̢̛̮̬̙̰͎̼̣̰̭͔̼͈͇̻̠͙͖̗͈̟̹̰̠̜̱̙̩̯̲̦͖̦̫̹͎͉͓͎͔̘̘̓̾͋̅̓͆͆̈́̇̌̆̃̀͆͐̋̾̽̂̄̀̓̀̍͒̈́̀̋̑͛̈͐̈́̓̚͘͜͜͠͝ͅ? GET THE FUCK OUT AND NEVER TRY ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN! Do we understand each other?

You nodded frantically and he let you go---shoving you roughly to the ground. Before you had even come back to your senses, you were on your feet and stumbling out of the wreckage of the radio tower. You ran, too terrified to bother being careful on the uneven ground, scratching yourself on the hard rocks and sharp debris of the hotel---hot tears making your vision blurry.

'Never again.'

----------

Afterwards, once the hotel was built, Alastor tried to apologize to you for his behavior.

Buying you gifts.

Making your favorite foods.

Showering you with affection and flowers.

...

You ignored him---shrugging off all of his advances and attempts to apologize. He meant the apologies, he really was sorry---that much you were sure of---but...you couldn't find it within yourself to forgive him. Not for this.

Of all the people you'd thought would hurt you, Alastor never made that list. Now that he'd proven you wrong on that front...you couldn't help but wonder what else you were wrong about as well.

Did he really love you? Was it all just a front? Was he just using you or biding his time until he could make a deal?

You didn't know and, until you did, you couldn't trust him...not enough to let him get close to you again.

Never again...not until you were certain.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻#devotion's posts: requests🪻

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lavender-devotion · 21 days

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Hello! Would you be willing to write a radiapple fic of what might happen the first time Lucifer sees Alastor’s antlers fall off because theyre shedding? I love the idea of them being mid-argument and one of them just pops off all of a sudden

oooooooooh, I've never done a ship fic before, but I LOVE this! I hope my writing lives up to your expectations <3 sorry if this one is shorter than my other fics, I'm not used to writing for ships

Summary: Lucifer expected a lot of things when it came to his arguments with Alastor, but one thing he didn't expect was to be interrupted by Alastor's antlers suddenly shedding...or to end up in his room helping him through the process. Also, what the fuck is this feeling in his chest?

Tags: RadioApple, Lucifer is feeling things and he is Not Happy about it, Enemies to "what the fuck am I feeling," Wound Tending, lots of insults, I know nothing about deer or medical shit (don't crucify me pls), Southern Gothic, Alastor is from the South fuckers and I'll never shut up about it TW: Blood, Gore (slight?) Word Count: 2k Read it on Ao3 <3

Lucifer stared at the ground, the silence around him deafening.

It was an antler.

A fucking antler.

He had to be hallucinating.

He slowly looked up from the spot on the floor, where the...antler had fallen, and up to Alastor---who was now dead silent, and one antler short. Now that they weren't in the middle of the argument, Lucifer found that he couldn't actually remember why they were arguing in the first place, or what they were arguing about. And that...actually kind of pissed him off more.

Alastor was always irritating, always getting on Lucifer's nerves every chance he got, but it seemed that in the last week he'd been even worse than usual---an impressive thing in and of itself, let me tell you. At first he'd thought that Alastor just wanted to see just how far he could push him until he snapped. Now, though, Lucifer was surprised to find...it was actually a lot more innocent than that---if "innocent" was the right word for it.

His antlers were shedding, and---now that Lucifer knew what he was looking for---was clearly in pain, even though he was pretty good at disguising it as anger.

Lucifer considered his options for a moment before finally sighing and kneeling down to pick up the fallen antler, "come on, let's get that taken care of before it gets any worse."

Before Alastor could respond---likely to either refuse or insult him, or both---Lucifer stood back up and walked away, headed towards Alastor's room. Where he hoped he had the tools to deal with this problem. If not, this was about to get really awkward.

For a moment, he was walking alone---Alastor no doubt reeling and confused by everything that had just happened---but soon Lucifer heard a pair of quiet footsteps following behind him. So, at the very least, he was avoiding the embarrassment of headed to Alastor's room completely alone. Lucky him.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to make it there, so they avoided the attention and questions of the other residents---who would definitely take this the wrong way. And, now that he thought about it, trying to explain to Charlie that he was not going to Alastor's room to have sex with him was his worst nightmare. He'd rather fight Michael a second time, honestly.

So, with that in mind, Lucifer quickly made his way into the room and shut the door as soon as Alastor was inside---leaving the two of them completely alone. With none of the other residents around to provide a buffer, and the aggravation of an argument distracting him, Lucifer suddenly found himself feeling...very awkward, oddly enough.

"So..." he started, "do you have anything in here to help take care of..."

He gestured to Alastor's singular antler and, after a bout of silence, Alastor carefully shook his head, sitting down in one of the two armchairs in the room.

"It will fall off naturally," he said simply, sounding resigned to Lucifer's presence, "be patient."

Patience was never exactly Lucifer's forte, but it wasn't exactly like he had a choice. He could always leave, of course, but doing that right after he'd offered to help would make him look like an asshole---and, while he usually wouldn't give a shit whether or not Alastor thought he was an asshole, seeing him in this state made him feel a bit more...self-conscious. So, in an effort to keep things from getting too silent, he decided to ask some questions about...whatever the fuck was going on here.

"So...is this supposed to be painful?" he asked, fiddling with the ring still fitted on his left hand.

Alastor kept silent, staring critically at him for a moment---almost like he was trying to figure out if there was any way Lucifer could use the answer against him which, knowing him, was probably exactly it. Once he seemed to figure it out, he answered.

"On Earth? No. In Hell? Yes."

"Ah..."

What was Lucifer supposed to fucking say to that? "Sorry, I didn't mean to damn humanity to eternal suffering, my bad?" Seriously? Why did trying to have a conversation with this bastard have to be so fucking difficult?

"What…is this, exactly?”

Alastor looked at him like he was stupid, "as you could see, if you'd open your god-damned eyes, my antlers are shedding."

"Of all the fucking- yes I fucking know that, but why?!"

"When humans get sent to Hell we are given new forms, sometimes those forms include animalistic features," he explained slowly, getting on Lucifer's every nerve, "when they do, then the demon in question develops the traits that match their features. I've developed deer-like features, so therefore I've also developed some of the matching traits."

As much as Alastor's condescension aggravated him, Lucifer couldn't really say anything about it, considering that he hadn't known any of this in the first place. What could he say? Spending 99% of his time hidden away in his palace making toy ducks and looking forward to the next time he'd get to call Charlie meant that he didn't really know much about the people that inhabited his realm...or how any of it worked.

"So, what? Did you really like deer when you were alive or something?" He asked sarcastically, trying to push past the topic of his own ignorance. It wasn't something he was proud of.

Alastor's ears suddenly pinned back, so that definitely struck a nerve.

Lucifer grinned, 'interesting.'

"Oh, was that it? Were you a deer boy?" He pressed more, intentionally taking on the same condescending tone that Alastor had, just to get on his nerves.

"The hunter that shot me apparently thought I was a deer, you piss-haired imbecile."

"Oh really? Because I heard through the grapevine that you turn into exactly what you are when you get sent to Hell."

The hair on the back of Lucifer's neck stood up as a sharp static whine made its way to his ears, Alastor practically seething at him.

"Is that what you are," he continued, "prey? A scared little doe trying desperately to prove he's more than just a footnote in the food chain?"

Alastor stood up---eyes darkening and forming into radio dials, limbs elongating as a bright green lightning began to emanate from his shadows.

"Lis†̸̨͔̭̣͔͆͌̈́͊͝Ȩ̶̙̦̘̮̀͒͗̀̏̐ñ̸͉̟̺̬̞̋̏͑́̆ ̷͎͙̮̼̝̔̾͑̍̅H̸̗͇̤̤̗͛̈̆̓̿È̵̡̤̜̲̬͊̒̈́̉͝R̵̡̛̠͍̭͚͊̊̎̇Ę̶͓̫̰̪̀͐̃̊͊̈́ ̶̼͇͎̬̙̾̀͛͐̇¥̴̧̛͖͇͔̲̓̽͗͌Ö̸̝̦̦̙̣̐͋̇͒́Ú̸͚̮͍̺͚͌̈͌̾͘ ̴̥͎̰̣̳́̋̑̓̒Ļ̴̣͉̞̟̓̒̈́̋́Ì̷̖̳͉̳̯̒̒̇̈́̈†̸̬̱͓͙̜̄̅́̽͝†̴̡̧̝͔̳̑̏̒͊̚L̴͇͇̪̈́͆̌̓̉ͅͅÈ̴̡͉͖̗̟̆̀͆̿͝-"

He suddenly hissed and reverted back to normal, falling back into the chair as his antler, while trying to grow larger to match his form, had grown in the wrong place---pieces of antler now coated in blood and sticking...through Alastor's head.

And Lucifer's smugness at finally managing to get to him quickly dissipated, being replaced by the feeling of...being Hell's biggest jackass.

"Oh shit- hold on, I'm gonna- fuck," he rushed to Alastor's side, hands erratically moving all around him, but still not quite touching---unsure of what to do to help.

"Just...pull it out," Alastor hissed furiously, small streaks of blood running down his face.

Lucifer's eyes widened, "what?!"

There was just- there was no fucking way. The antler was still technically connected to his head, but it was basically hanging on by threads of...fuck, he didn't even know what that shit was! He didn't know fucking human/deer/demon biology! And the, now enlarged, antler was literally sticking through his fucking skull!!!

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO???

Alastor practically fucking snarled at him, pain making him near-delirious and livid---eyes darkening and tense shadows crawling frantically up the walls, almost like they were trying to escape the pain.

"Break off the £̶͈̖̰͈͙̎͋͆̉͠µ̶͇͕̰̻͉̈́̌̔͗̕¢̶͍̥̦̥̥̐̈́̓͝͝k̸̢̜̣̤͓̈́̓͑̆͠ï̸̖͚͍̯̝̀̿̓̔͝ņ̷̬̘̝͉̃́͋̓̕͠g̷͈͎͔̩̱̋̎̎̈́̇ base and maneuver it ou†̸͓̳̮̟̪͆̌̈̃͂ ̴̞̘̻̫͂̄̽̋͠ͅð̶̛̛̘̜̣̰̬̓̉̇£̵͙̝͓̞̗̂̓̅̆͝ ̵̡̜̥̬̭̈̌͛̐̕ḿ̵̠̮̦͙͎̄͋͋͐¥̵̛̼̖͈͒̑̆̀͜ͅ ̶̛͍̖̦̩̲̿̃̐̀H̴̡̤̮͔̪͊̒̓̉̑È̷̟͇͔͓͇̀̄̿̇́Ä̷̩̤͖͉̓̿̋̓͆͜Ð̷͔̹̮̜̲́̿͒͊͠!̸̦͈̱͉͇͆͆͂̒̈!̸͈̪͚̘̥̊͆̋̕͝!̷̥̯̩̬̫͂̈́͂̍͠"

In a panic, before he could think twice about it, he did as Alastor said---breaking off the base as quickly as he could before carefully maneuvering the parts that were stuck out and pulling it free. The antler immediately slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor, the blood that now coated his palms making it hard for him to hold onto anything.

His eyes shot back to Alastor, finding him clutching his head and trying to breathe through clenched teeth. So he ran to the bathroom and desperately rummaged through the cabinets until he found a first aid kit and some clean rags. He rushed back into the room and quickly began trying to clean up the blood that bubbled up from the wound. At first Alastor flinched away from his touch, but after a moment he allowed Lucifer's touch---leaning into his hands as he worked.

At least, until he began cleaning the wound.

Once he brought out the antiseptic and began gently cleaning the area around the wound, Alastor hissed and gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting on---knuckles white. So Lucifer absent-mindedly put a hand on his back and gently rubbed circles to soothe him, a habit from when he was still married to Lillith that he still hadn't been able to shake. Alastor jumped at the touch but, after some hesitation, he allowed it, and Lucifer couldn't help but wonder-

'When was the last time he'd ever been touched gently?'

He was always the one touching others, more to exert power over them than anything, but the only time Lucifer had ever seen anyone touch him, they were trying to hurt him---trying and failing. The thought made him oddly self-conscious, the ring on his finger suddenly burning like a brand.

"You're wrong," Alastor said suddenly, making him jump.

"What?"

"Your demonic form isn't affected by what you are when you're alive, but by what you hate," he clarified, "I hate timidness, I hate fear, I hate prey---so I was made into something that embodied all of those traits."

Lucifer didn't quite know what to say to that, so he just asked, "does it bother you?"

There wasn't any malicious intent behind the question, he was genuinely curious.

"No, it doesn't."

"Why not?"

Alastor hummed, clearly contemplating exactly what to say, all the while Lucifer watched him---something warm and insistent taking root in his chest as he did so.

"Have you ever had the pleasure of visiting the South?" Alastor asked him, his ever-present smile seeming to turn genuine.

He answered truthfully, "no."

"Well, we have quite a few local legends in the South---myths, tall tales, ridiculous lies some might call them, but we know better. Warnings, we call them."

"Now, the legends do tend to differ depending on the region, but once you've been around long enough, you tend to learn all of them---no matter where you're from," Alastor continued, "one of the stories, a favorite of mine, is that of the Not-Deer."

Lucifer leaned towards him slightly, feeling drawn in by the story, the gentle static of his voice, and the genuine love he could see that he clearly had for his home.

"The story goes that sometimes people will be driving along a back road, walking through the forest, or simply enjoying an evening out on the porch---when, suddenly, they'll see what looks like a deer," his smile suddenly changed, a curl in his lip that made Lucifer shiver, "at first glance, it looks normal enough, but if you keep looking at it you'll start to notice that something about it is not quite right. That's when you'll also notice that, just as you're staring at it, it's staring right back at you."

The shadows around them almost seemed to dance as Alastor continued, and---although Lucifer could feel fear creeping up his spine---he didn't want him to stop.

"Then you'll notice something off about its eyes---that they're far too dead, far too human, to be the eyes of a deer. Then you'll notice that its body is all wrong too, distorted and bent in all the wrong places. Then you'll notice that it's too big to be a deer, and then you'll notice the blood on its matted fur, and then you'll wonder how you'd ever thought it was a deer in the first place."

A pause.

"Then you'll notice that it's closer to you than you first thought."

Lucifer, breathless, asked, "what do you do then?"

Alastor grinned, that same curl in his lip, "you run."

Now it was easy to see why Alastor didn't particularly mind this form.

"The interesting things humans think up," Lucifer whispered and Alastor almost seemed amused by his interest.

"Indeed."

The odd feeling in his chest warmed under his gaze, and he suddenly found himself feeling the distinct sense of deja vu as well.

...and that was when it hit him.

'Oh motherfucker-'

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #alastor x lucifer #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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