#the hotelier said that.

[planet4546b]

i miss hale.

[maeo-png]

no bc why are SO many emo songs fitting simon he’s 58 not 16

[city0f-dreams]

It occurred to me in the last hour or so that I keep mentioning Basil this and Basil that and with the exception of one or two people there’s no one that currently writes with me that followed that blog he was on lol 😂 Apologies for that. Allow me to take a quick moment, then, to explain who he is, how I write him, and why I will continue to write him despite his actor/co-creator having dumb opinions as of late.

“Basil” is Basil Fawlty, the protagonist of the 70s British sitcom Fawlty Towers (a show I love dearly that, while beloved in the UK, has zero presence online or in the US). He owns and runs the titular hotel, but he’s the last person who should be in a position of customer service. He’s rude, snobbish, arrogant, has more than a bit of a temper, he’s a chronic blame shifter…you get the point, he’s a horrible person to be around. A lot of the comedy in the series comes from both karma kicking in and making his life a living hell and the antics that ensue as he tries to maintain the flimsy lies he starts. Yeah…British comedy is a lot more “Always Sunny” than “Friends” lol

On my old blog, however, I tried to make him…less annoying, is the word I would use? For the sake of threads not being unbearable to continue I allowed him to warm up and show reluctant forms of gratitude towards the muses I wrote with, and I’ll be continuing that here. Just don’t expect it to happen for a long while or unless it’s under extraneous circumstances. I also completely ignore he and the rest of the cast’s tendency to be xenophobic and/or bigots, because I’m not comfortable writing that and that’s not the kind of stuff I want to project out into the world. He’s still plenty rude in other ways, though. And that’s what makes him fun to write! None of my other muses are as unquestionably stuck up as he is.

However, the problem comes in with his actor and co-creator, Monty Python alum John Cleese. In the months following me starting to write him he began a track of saying and agreeing with the stupidest things, particularly regarding a certain author’s LGBTQ+ opinions, and this track has continued to this day. He’s becoming his own character, which distresses me greatly as a fan of both the Pythons and the sitcom he created. In hindsight, it’s no wonder (minus people not having knowledge of the series) that interactions with Basil dropped off.

It’s all a bit disheartening, the stuff with John, to say the least. But in the least political way possible, because I refuse to get involved with politics, I could not give less of a shit about John’s opinions and stupidness and what he chooses to say or not say in his old age. The fact of the matter is, I’m a fan of his comedy work and his comedy work only, and to me no controversy can take away how brilliant his Python and Towers work is. And me writing my interpretation of his most entertaining character is my way of celebrating that work. Rping is supposed to be a fun hobby that involves writing characters you love, free of politics. Basil, for me, is just an example of that, nothing more and nothing less.

So, he’ll be my first male muse on this blog, coming sooner than later, followed by more well-known ones that aren’t as controversial for sure 😂 but I don’t want to abandon Basil. You don’t have to interact with him if he’s not your cup of tea, but don’t judge me based on whatever he may say or do-even if I am toning him down where it matters. If ever there was a place for a “mun does not equal the muse” disclaimer, this is it.

I’ll probably link to this post in my muse bio for him, too. Just felt like all of this needed to be said prior to his reintroduction so no one gets any weird ideas. Thank you all for listening.

[slapshot1977]

AMERICAN FOOTBALL? RHYTHMICALLY DEFICIENT????

[jyoongim]

Alastor x reader with Morningstar reader? Where Alastor is their lover (hates the term boyfriend) only in private and literally no one knows but husk.

It was rather difficult keeping your relationship with the hotelier a secret.

But Alastor insisted.

He didn’t want everyone in your business,’private affairs should stay before the two invloved’ is what he had told you.

So you respected your lover’s wishes.

It had been a rather busy week at the hotel. Your sister had burned your brain for new ideas to incorporate into the bonding exercises.

You plopped at the bar, tapping the wood for Husk to make you a drink.

You smiled in appreciation when he gave you a double shot, happily throwing it back with a sigh.

You wouldnt see Alastor til later on as he was busy with some business.

”Never thought Ill see you so worn for wear princess” the cat mused as you gave him puppy eyes for another shot.

You sighed “I’m exhausted. Charlie has all these ideas and she’s got me all frazzled. I-I just want a break and some time to just think” 

He hummed as he cleaned your empty glass

”Then just tell ‘er. Charlie has enough support that you can have some time to yourself. I think the both of you deserve some alone time.”

You groaned. Husker was the only person who knew you and Alastor were a couple. 

I mean when you catch a Princess of Hell making out with the Radio Demon what else could they be?

You mulled it over, it had been awhile since you and Alastor had some real alone time. The two of you had been working around the clock to help Charlie maintain the hotel.

And you really missed the red demon.

”I don’t know Husk” you fiddled with your hands

”He’s got so much on his plate and I don’t want to be a burden” you pouted.

Husk let out a low chuckle “Trust me Princess. He needs it as much as you do, Hell probably even more. He’s been more aggravating than usual”

You smiled at the cat. Maybe Husk was right.

Just as you went to say something, buzzing static reached your ears.

You smiled when you saw Alastor, happy to see him after a long week.

Alastor made his way to you and sighed in relief once he wrapped his arms around you.

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, cupping it as you made him look at you “You look tired”

The red demon hummed “Nothing I can’t handle my dear I assure you”

Husk sucked his teeth, mumbling under his breath “yeah right”

Alastor threw him a glare that made you giggle.

You straightened his bow tie “Husk said you’ve been out of sorts and suggested we take a well deserve break. How bout we tell Charlie were gonna go recruiting for a few days? I think a little trip is needed” You scratched his undercut, making him melt.

”How can I say no to spending time with you darlin” he smiled, whisking you away to go find Charlie and put on a show.

Maybe you’ll keep your secret just a little while longer….

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: dancing in the rain

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: slight, baby angst/ major fluff

pairing: Alastor x Reader

summary: all hell had was acid rain, and all you wanted was the rainstorms you knew on earth.

Rain hardly ever was an occurrence in Hell. And when it was, it was acid rain. You sighed, looking out the window and watched the green acid pouring down on everything, missing desperately the rain storms that you had on earth. Being the youngest at the hotel, you remembered more clearly the burn of the sun on your skin, the cool breeze on a fall day and even the mix of the humidity in the air that felt like it would choke you but the reprieve as a rainstorm came and fell from the heavens.

“What has you so melancholy, my dear?” A voice asked behind you, shockingly quiet all things considered, toning down the announcer quality in his voice.

“Hey Alastor, just thinking is all.” You replied and smiled at him, not wanting to explain that the acid rain made you sad.

“Now, whatever it is that you’re thinking about is casting a dark shadow over your usually lovely face. So, tell me, what’s wrong? What kind of hotelier might I be if I didn’t ensure that all the patrons here were happy?” He said, the announcer tone coming back into his voice, which made you wince. Knowing that meant he knew you were lying so he was going to put on a show if you were. You sigh.

“It’s the rain.” You explain.

“The what now?” He asks, all effects gone from his voice except shock and a bit of confusion.

“The rain. I miss the rain. Not this rain. The rain on earth. The smell of the earth after a good rain storm, the way that especially in the summer when it was so hot, the rain was a cool reprieve. It always felt like…” You trailed off.

“Forgiveness?” Alastor finished, looking outside the hotel now too. You blink and look up at him.

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t read minds?” You chuckle, resting your head on your hand. You suddenly feel his microphone tap your head. You look up at him as holds his arm out to you.

“Come with me.” He says, not giving you time to feel confused. As when you take his arm you shadow travel with him to the other side of the hotel appearing at the door of his room.

“This is your room.” You say, confused now.

“Ever observant. A skill many would kill for I’m sure.” He smiles at you, but the sarcasm is evident as he holds open the door for you and you step into his room.

“Just a certified Sherlock Holmes.” You roll your eyes, taking his sarcasm.

“I never had the chance to read those books.” He mused for a moment, as he shut his door and walked around you heading to the forest area. You stayed near the door.

“I have the collection if you’d like to borrow it and read them.” You explain. “They are annotated though, so you’ll have to put up with my notes.” You explain.

“That would be lovely, dear.” Alastor says stepping on the grass and you watch as he takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat rack that appeared suddenly. He turns to you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I-I guess?” You say, more like a question. You jog over to him and start walking next to him. “Are you killing me in your forest because I complained about acid rain?”

“Oh, no. Not you at least.” Alastor chuckles. “I want to show you something.” You look up at him skeptically.

“Hey Alastor, can you take smaller steps?” You ask having to jog to keep up with him. He looks down and hums seeing how you were almost running next to him.

“Good to know that if I had to catch you I could do so without breaking a sweat.” He says, as he walks slower and taking smaller steps, allowing you to actually walk, instead of run.

“Har har.” You say deadpanned and roll your eyes. You walk into a clearing that has a cabin in the middle. The whole forest felt like it was shrouded in the twilight of fall when lightening bugs gently floated around and the sky was a perpetual shade of blue, purple and pink. You finally looked up and around, seeing the trees, the bugs, the animals, the sky. Tears formed in your eyes. “Alastor, this is beautiful. It looks just like-“ You stop, your throat constricting as emotion overtakes you. You feel Alastor’s clawed hand rest on your shoulder.

“Just like earth?” He finishes, speaking softer than you had ever heard. You nod and look at him, watching him take everything in and then looking down at you.

“Come, let me show you something else.” He says, walking away and heading to the cabin. You walk in and suddenly feel at home. The decor is a little dated and you feel transported to the 1920’s, but it’s all homey. There’s a kitchen, a living room, a lounge and a hall way leading to what you assumed to be a bed room. You walk through the living room, taking it in but trying not to pry at the photos Alastor had in frames along the mantel of the fire place, you see at the back door there is almost like a deck, with a more modern porch swing.

“The porch swing is a nice addition.” You mention, smiling a bit at the modern accessory in what felt like a time capsule.

Alastor chuckles as he sets his microphone down and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He joins you next to the window. “You haven’t seen the best part.” He murmurs, unusually quiet and reserved. You don’t mention the change in demeanor though, wanting to savor the quiet and this almost more authentic view of the Radio Demon.

“What’s the best-“ You stop when you hear it. The start of a pitter patter of rain on the roof, that builds and when you look outside, it’s raining. “Is that?” You blink a few times.

“It is. Safe for you to touch as well. You won’t get hurt.” He smiles a genuine looking smile as he goes over to the record player and starts playing music. Your hand touches the door, feeling the coolness of the water slide down the glass pane. You can’t stop yourself as Alastor fiddles with the record player, you open the door, quickly closing it so no rain would get in the cabin and rush outside off the deck. Twirling in the grass as the rain poured down soaking you.

“What are you doing?” Alastor yelled from the door, watching you like you had gone mad.

“Dancing in the rain!” You yelled back, a smile feeling permanent on your face.

“You’ll catch a cold, get back inside!” He says, looking up at the sky and then back at you.

“No! Come join me! It’s amazing! This is exactly what I remember.” You say holding you hand out to Alastor. His smile looks more like a grimace as he takes you in looking like a wet dog. He looks back inside and waves his hand at something and you see towels appear and the record player is louder so you can hear it outside. He takes off his shoes and socks and places them neatly at the door but far enough away that when you come in, water or mud won’t get on them.

He walks out getting drenched almost immediately as you run up to him and grab his hand and pull him on the grass. You take both his hands and start trying to spin around in a circle with him, as you see his eyebrow raise. You stop and look at him, a little disappointed when he doesn’t spin with you and you start to let go of his hand, until his hand tightens and pulls you to him.

“We can dance in the rain, but we will be actually be dancing.” He says as he proceeds to guide you through a dance that was popular when Alastor was alive, morphing into an odd mash up of a swing dance and you dancing like you were at a rave. You both settled down and were now just slow dancing as the song had turned a bit slower. You watched as Alastor’s eyes were closed as his face angled up to the sky. You made a spit second decision, and rested your head on his chest, really it was like the start of his abdomen but it was as tall as you could reach. You didn’t see his head snap down to you and watch as you seemingly relaxed in his arms, drunk off the warmth he gave and the cool from the rain still coming down. His hand moved up, and grabbed your chin, encouraging you to look at him. As you did, you saw his eyes widen and his cheeks turn bright red.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly.

“I’ve never… done anything like this before.” He says quietly, and it breaks the fogginess you felt before.

“You don’t have to be scared. It’s just me.” You say, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world.

“Just you? Darling, just you is enough to have me go to war.” Alastor murmurs and then his eyes widen again, shocked. You realize that he is just blurting things out and there is no filter. You smile.

“Well, I’m honored that the Radio Demon would want to be in my corner.” You say as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, stopping just a few centimeters away, allowing him to close the gap if he wanted to. He leans into your touch shaking his head.

“Not the Radio Demon, dear. Just Alastor.” He says, looking at you with a vulnerability you had never seen before. Your eyes widen and you smile.

“Even better.”

[priestvox]

What about possessive EVERYONE?

The Vees in the months post-Extermination trying to destroy Alastor's standing in the hotel to destroy any plans he has, only to fail spectacularly.

Vaggie is approached by Velvette while on errands for the hotel, who offers a sweet deal of spreading the hotel's name via social media algorithms and ads if they just let go of that hotelier, he's hardly a respectable face for their brand anyway. Vaggie spends a solid 30 minutes ranting about how he's a bad influence on Charlie and needs to keep his cannibal meat on HIS side of the fridge before walking off and leaving a stunned and slightly traumatized Overlord.

Valentino pressures Angel to give him blackmail material since he lives with the guy, to act as a mole. Angel gleefully recounts the time Alastor scolded Lucifer himself after the latter blew up their kitchen trying to make dinner (he sticks to desserts and breakfast foods for a reason).

As for Husk and Niffty, they can't exactly go against Alastor, Niffty wouldn't want to anyway, and Husk likes the hotel and its people enough that he doesn't want Alastor's position threatened, because him leaving means they might have to as well.

The Vees attack the hotel outright via some goons. Not 10 minutes later and the Princess of Hell is cheerfully waving to a VoxNews reporter while facing a swarm of drones surrounding the hotel, holding a molotov. "This one's for you, Al!" she says as she destroys millions of dollars in tech on live TV.

Vox represents the Vees at an Overlord meeting fully intending to start something, but all the words die on his lips when Lucifer, who had graced them with his presence for once, leans far too close to Alastor and whispers something, eyes not straying from Vox. And Alastor SNORTS, trying to stifle his smile for once as if it pains him to admit to finding whatever he said funny. Vox hasn't seen that look in many, many years, back when he and Alastor were friends and he could still make him laugh in a way that wasn't malicious.

Alastor doesn't like being taken care of, doesn't do it enough for himself either, but he's part of their weird little family at the hotel all the same, and even if he's a weird deer bitch, he's THEIR weird deer bitch, and no one gets to rib him except them.

👀

[t-tomuras]

† ─── •𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Alastor x F!reader

Warnings: Use of petnames ( dear, sweetheart, darling, dearheart ), reader has ears and a tail ( mhm ), religious themes / comparisons, mild biting, ( very slight ) injury, creampie, slight overstimulation

Wordcount: 5k

Notes: HA HA HA I've no excuse for this. canon is what I make of it.

“If you truly want a shot at redemption, my dear, you must actually make attempts at changing your behavior,” the muffled sound of Alastor’s voice seems far closer than the simple radio on your bedside table; the one that you continue to ignore with each morning’s wake up call. Reasoning that Sir Pentious must’ve turned the volume up on it when you caught him skulking around in your room or maybe it was one of his simpleminded minions mixing up the rooms they were allowed in.. again. 

Regardless, you shift further into the plush comforter, whining louder at the sound of radio static but you don’t open your eyes. Reaching blindly about hoping to wrap your hand around the infernal contraption to continue blissful sleep but to no avail.

“Five more minutes,” barely audible through the fabric of your comfortable pillowcase. Whines muffled by the material that you keep your face buried in. 

“You said that an hour ago, dearheart,” he speaks again, volume louder this time. It causes your ear to twitch wildly in an attempt to pinpoint where his noisy little box was without fully rousing from slumber. Groaning as you feel around blindly, m grasping at nothing but air for a spell until you think you’ve got it. A triumphant little smile spreading on your still hidden face when your clawed fingers brush over something cool. Closing your fist around it with a delighted hum before a proverbial bucket of cold water is dumped on you at the sound of Alastors voice once again. Closer this time, more clearly and obviously not emanating from anywhere but the source itself.

“I believe I’ve been lenient enough with you,” you gasp when cold fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting you up while you scramble to grip at your covers. Scrounging to maintain some decency and not reveal your bare chest to the hotelier himself. 

“Alastor,” sighed breathlessly while vibrant crimson hues scrutinize you, cheshire grin unwavering in his judgmental gaze before you’re dropped all together, “what are you doing here? You never come personally for a wake up call.” 

Usually it was one of the other staff members like Nifty, sweet Charlie or indifferent Husk; hell sometimes even Angeldust but it’s never once been the boss himself. 

“It’s your first day on the job sweetheart, I don’t approve of tardiness either,” you clamber to sit up with your covers clutched closely to your chest. Swinging your legs over the side of the plush mattress top after Alastor gives you his back. Glancing to the side for whatever you’d taken hold of to see his staff set against your nightstand. Gaze flickering from it to him as he crosses the room in confident strides to your wardrobe. Taking a moment to rummage through the hanging clothes until he procures an empty hanger from the rack before returning to your bedside.

Extending his arm out with the metal wire hooked on thin digits as his other hand gestures towards it in show. His lids fall shut, bowing gentlemanly as he presents you with a white dress shirt and sleek black pencil skirt to compliment as well as a blazer you’ll forgo despite how it’s meant to complete the ensemble. 

“I had it tailored specially for you,” Alastor bends at the waist, lifting his head for his gaze to rake over your form, enjoying the way you squirm under the scrutiny. “No more embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions over that tail of yours! This will be your uniform while you work as my assistant.”

“Assistant?” You blink owlishly, gingerly taking the outfit after Alastor holds it out to you. 

“Yes! My assistant,” his voice warbles like an old radio that wavers in signal before it stabilizes once again, “you see, your gracious host believes the best suited action plan for your soul's salvation is to actually put forth some effort towards your community.” 

You’re standing now, pout on your lips as you tilt your head. Fastening the buttons to the crisp dress shirt of your new uniform, “and my community would be?” 

Though you regret the question the moment the words leave your lips, ears flattening against your skull they almost blend in with your hair at the sight of the telltale twitch to the Radio Demons eye. He doesn’t falter for long, taking hold of his staff and resting both of his hands over top one another against the spit guard of his mic. Taking your silence as understanding before he continues, busying himself by pacing about your room nonchalantly as you finish dressing. 

“I agreed with her and as of late I have been in dire need,” his head makes a sickening snap as it spins fully around to face you before his body follows, “of an extra set of semi competent hands for my laundry list of duties to accomplish in a day!” 

With an ostentatious gesture of the pommel of his staff, Alastor signals the end of his spiel, “that is where you come in, my dear. Two birds with one stone and all that jazz.”

You heave a bereft sigh as you pull on the tight pin skirt, shimmying it over wide hips but for once you don’t encounter a lack of space for your bushy tail. Spinning around to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a tentative smile finding your lips as you smooth the fabric down the curve of your ass before you’re reminded you aren’t alone in the sanctity of your own room. 

“And don’t you look ready for the day?” Stifling your yelp when your new boss appears behind you, hands resting on your shoulders as he looks you in the eyes of your reflection. Nodding with a sheepish grin when he responds, “Marvelous.”

Hoping he didn’t take notice of the shiver that wracks down your spine before he turns on his heel. Spinning his staff around in his hand as Alastor takes his leave, projecting his voice as he makes no effort to wait for you, “come along now dear, we have much to do.” 

Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t being hyperbolic either. Toting you all over town before shoving a list of remaining tasks to do while he attended another meeting with the overlords. Groaning over each item you move to after completing the previous one, snarling incredulously as you shift his dry cleaning from one hand to another. 

“Where the fuck am I supposed to find venison at this hour?” Where were you meant to find it at all, rather. Perhaps you’ll call for Angel’s aid with the promise of your top shelf absinthe that Husk selfishly hoards for himself. 

In moderation, of course! Lest Ms. Morningstar force you to write out the importance of considering others' journeys to recovery. Tossing the plastic bag protecting his tailored suit over your shoulder to rest against your back to reduce the chance of wrinkling. 

“Kinda fucked up that he eats deer though,” commenting offhandedly to yourself as you send the proposition to Angel before, for the third time today, Alastor startles you. 

“It’s an acquired taste sweetheart,” he coos as he materializes from the shadows, falling into step with you effortlessly, “however I have taken notice of your lingering gaze, perhaps you possess the peculiar taste yourself.” 

Your ear flicks wildly in minute agitation, chest warming with embarrassment. More than accustomed to how aware Alastor was to most things deemed important but you didn’t think that included you by any scope of the word. 

What purpose could he have for watching you? Alastor doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it nor explore the thought before he’s pinching the list he’d given you earlier to steal it from your grasp. Humming, what you think is, anyway, approvingly over all the marked off items. 

“Your last errand for me today is to help me set up for my broadcast. I've been so occupied with our little passion project that I fear leaving it to those little egg creatures has left my booth in a state!” 

Alastor glances back at you with his signature smug expression, your tired body slouching forward as you follow him down the street as sinners quickly dive out of his path. “Fine, fine, as long as I can catch a break after this.” 

“Of course my dear, I’m no slave driver.” 

But a state is an understatement for the utter disarray Alastor’s booth was in upon both of your arrivals. You almost think this is a form of torment on the Radio Demon’s part for dealing with your tardiness but that notion is quickly dismissed upon seeing his reaction. 

A tight lipped grin (more akin to a grimace) on his features telling of his agitation even without the twitch to his lid or the vice grip Alastor has on his staff. 

Trash strewn about, broken glass and spilled drinks over the soundboard and overturned furniture. You could only imagine what could have occurred with the moronic minions, but you’re certain this transgression against Alastor’s prized space will not go unpunished. 

You see it as an opportunity for an owed favor, not that you couldn’t barter with Sir Pentious to do what you asked of him but this will leave you without haggle for certain. Thankful for his odd adoration of the incompetent creatures. 

Allowing them to see another day as you chirp quickly, “I’ll clean the mess if you repair the broken things.” 

Playful as if that’ll placate the man but he hums dryly, using his magic to mend the glass while you tidy up the old fashioned way. Sweeping up shards and crumpling up what you hope were unimportant scraps of paper the eggs used for ‘arts and crafts’. 

Though you do keep one that involves a crudely drawn Alastor with one of the eggs holding his hand, signed by name: Frank.. with a backwards R. 

Your sleeves are rolled up by the time you’re done, fanning yourself before finally taking down your hair to admire your work. The space near pristine save for the Radio Demons oh deer mug and a few scattered transcripts of requests that’ll never make it to the open air of his broadcasts. 

“Well done my little languorous lady!” You’re not sure if he’s being genuinely sarcastic or not, his tone frequently facetious sounding in nature but you choose not to take offense. Swiping your forearm over your brow as Alastor taps the reupholstered cushioned seat next to him, “that’s all for today. You may rest now.”  

“Gladly,” you all but groan as you flop into the seat next to him, slumping against its back as you glance over your shoulder through the window. Lidded gaze taking in the liveliness of the city below the hilltop of the hotel before you stretch out tired limbs. A yawn overtaking you as you allow yourself to relax. Uncaring that you’re still in the presence of a menacing overlord. 

You nod off with an ease that’s almost impressive. Slowly leaning against his shoulder until your limp body slumps further into Alastor, causing a stiffness in him as he looks over you. Scrutinizing for a moment as he contemplates if you’re feigning sleep for a brazen attempt at contact with him but the thought is quickly dismissed. 

You were a sleepy creature, after all. 

And for a long moment, his arms hover away from you in his surprise. Poised with the option to either shove you from his lap or hold you closer and in the absence of questioning eyes (not that any wretched soul dares to do so), Alastor chooses the former. 

His fingers come to pet along the curve of your skull. Combing through the bumps in your hair from the professional updo that you’d so proudly put effort into. 

With an almost bereft sigh despite his unwavering cheshire grin, he adjusts you carefully so you’ll curl with more ease in his lap, your nose pressed to his throat after he’d thoughtfully angled your head to his shoulder. Finally situating you in a way he could still reach his coffee and begin his broadcast. Alastor supposes you’ve earned this uninterrupted rest in his presence.

Just this once.

He supposes he shouldn’t be at all surprised with how your slumber remains wholly uninterrupted even while he talks or sings into his mic. Unmitigated volume but at least you remain quiet, not a peep from you not even a whine. 

He could almost praise you, but he’s already done so once today. And the notion is completely out the window whenever he shakes you in an attempt to rouse you at the end of his broadcast. 

Enough that you whine and shift in his hold but only further wrapping yourself around him. Arms coming to loop around his throat and link your fingers on the shoulder opposite of the one you rest on, shocking even him when you nuzzle into the juncture of his jaw. 

What a lucky thing you were, not to be punished for the over familiarity with him even while unconscious.

Alastor takes in a deep breath, chest expanding with the wide berth before he exhales long and slowly. Hooking his arms around your shoulders and the backs of your knees, for an ample amount of support of course, as he moves to stand. Sidestepping from his seat and descending the stairs that connect Alastor’s booth to the hotel. 

Features an impassive, muted smile as he treks quietly through the halls until he reaches the floor you stay on. Snapping his fingers to open your door and close it behind him upon his entrance, closing the distance to your messy bed with little effort. 

“Perhaps you’ll need to spend the day with Nifty soon,” said in jest when you seem to rouse ever so slightly. 

“Mmm, no,” playfully petulant with a smile gracing plump lips as you use your cutest sounding sleepy voice, “trying to send me away? Didn't I do good for you today?”

“You did, let’s try and make it a habit,” a little snide but you understand, even in your half asleep haze, it isn’t inherently directed at you. It’s like second nature to him now, the sarcasm and glib attitude. 

You giggle over it, humming in affirmation as you’re gently laid to rest but he's warm against your body. You cling to it, whine with furrowed brows as his fingers wrap around your biceps in a bid for you to loosen your hold. 

You tighten instead, flex the muscles in them defiantly even as he pulls away, “five more minutes Alastor.” 

“You always say that darling.” 

“And it usually works,” a childish rebuttal but you can tell when to take an inch or a mile depending on Alastors mood. Despite his unamused expression, you figure it couldn’t hurt to attempt the mile, “five minutes. You’re warm, I’ll fall asleep quickly.” 

To your surprise, but not without a defeated sigh more than telling of his annoyance, he agrees. Resting his knee on the edge of your mattress and you take it as your sign to let go of him so he can crawl in after you. Excitedly lifting the downy comforter in invitation before fluffing it over the both of you once he lies down. 

Rigidly and awkwardly, taking one side of your bed as if there was a physical diving line while staring up at the ceiling, but in your bed nonetheless; that doesn’t mean you won’t pout about it however. You’ve already taken one mile, what’s another few feet? 

“I took care of you aaallll day,” uttered as a sweet purr while you scoot closer, ignoring how pinstraight he lies beneath your covers. Alastor only hums sardonically, even in the dark you can see his smile. You prop up on your elbow, resting your cheek on the back of your hand as you petulantly furrow your brows over how he lies flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. 

Only sparing you cursory glances before his lids fall shut under your unwavering gaze, “five minutes isn’t a very long time, you know.”

“Rude,” scoffing indignantly, flopping next to him, close enough Alastor can feel your breath fan against his cheek. It bothers you how it seems like he’s ready to leave, the nonchalant, indifferent air about him palpable at your side as a silence falls between you. Causing a ringing in your ears before you disturb the peace once more. 

“I kinda liked it yknow,” you start slowly. Turning over until you’re half on your stomach, half on your side. Testing the waters by placing your palm on his chest, continuing when Alastor only gives you a sideways glance, “bein of some use to you.” 

Drumming your fingers against the fabric of his blazer, fingering a button as you wait for any response, good or bad, from Alastor. Touching him brazenly, however slight and innocent it may be, but it’s encouraging how he doesn’t recoil from the contact. It emboldens you, even under the intense gaze of glowing crimson; it goads you into testing further. Hooking your leg over his hips, waiting with bated breath to see if you’re pushing your luck but your self preservation skills were always in a severe deficit.

“Two minutes left, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at his warning, sitting up as you pull yourself to straddle his hips, “maybe I could do a little more for you.”  

He glances downward, brow quirked upwards as he watches you hover above his pelvis. Careful not to rest your weight against him, just in case.You’ve piqued his interest and curiosity in tandem. 

“What more do I need of you, then, dearest?” Dare you think there’s a coyness to his tone? 

Finally, you lower yourself against him, skirt hiking further up to the point it’s bunched at your hips. Leaning towards him until your chest is pressed to his and your elbows rest on either side of his face. Close, as if to share a secret as you whisper, “you need me sir.” 

The moment breaks the second the statement leaves your lips, Alastors pupils now morphed into the radio dials as his sclera darken to deep voids and irises glow brilliantly. 

You’re on your back in a flash, positions flipped with your boss for the day caging you in beneath him. Imposing his weight against you as he invades your personal space now, “and who are you to tell me what I need?” 

Though you’re far from dissuaded with this reaction. If he wanted to kill you he would have, “can I call it a suggestion instead? Or is my desire merely projection?” 

A beat of silence passes between you, then another. The blood coursing in your veins, roaring in your ears does little to drown out the sound of radio static emanating from Alastor. You worry your lip between your teeth, making the already plump flesh swell from the gentle abuse. 

All the while under the microscope of Alastors piercing glare until all at once, he relaxes above you. Shoulders slacking and, with a blink, you’re met with the familiar dual tones of crimson and vermillion, “I enjoy your company, sweetheart, I won’t lie to you there.” 

You relax in turn, tilting your head into your pillow as you bring your hands up to your chest. Testing over your sternum as if to manually slow your rapidly beating heart before steadily undoing the buttons of your blouse. Heat rising from your throat to your cheeks despite how he definitely saw your naked chest earlier in the day. 

It’s different now though, having him watch you undress compared accidentally and innocently seeing you in the nude earlier. You exhale your trepidation though, tossing away your shirt and arching up without touching Alastor who makes no move to aid nor assist you to unclasp your bra to shed away as well. Settling back down the pillow top, resisting the urge to cover yourself despite the inadvertence to one sided vulnerability; you’ve come this far, you’ve no desire to turn back. 

Meeting his unwavering eye contact with your own, stone faced while Alastor grins as you shimmy your skirt and panties down your hips until they slip down your calves to pool at your ankles. Lifting your legs ever so slightly to kick them away, spreading your thighs thoughtfully to frame his hips. 

Now laid completely bare beneath a still clothed Alastor but you’ve steeled your resolve, tucking your chin down to achieve a sultry look. Bringing your fingers between your thighs to swipe slow circles against your clit. Dull throbs of pleasure gradually flooding your system the louder the slick clicks grow from your ministrations.  

Lips parting around a breathy sigh as your hips twitch into your touch, all while the Radio Demon watches you with muted intrigue. 

It excites you, warms your chest as your arch with a soft moan. Batting your lashes up at him, “your turn..” 

Alastors grin grows impossibly wider, watchful eyes dragging down your naked body then back up again, “you’re still mine to command for the day.” 

A whine leaves your lips next, knees falling inward and resting against either side of Alastors tapered waist. Shoulders creeping higher as he leans down to husk in your ear, the usually threatening electronic warble of his voice makes your puffy throb with need at commanding, “undress me yourself.” 

A coy smile splits your features, pointed canines digging into your lips darkened by the rush of blood as you raise your arms. Resting your hands on Alastors chest before pushing into the sleeves of his blazer, away from his shoulders and he’s gracious enough to lean slightly on his haunches to shed it while you work at the buttons of his shirt. Unfastening each one with a fervor, eager to see and feel his skin against yours. 

Growing more bold as you lean up with him, dragging your palms along Alastors triceps as his shirt follows his blazer. Stalling minutely when your nose brushes against his, focus darting between his eyes to his lips and back again before you close the gap. A tentative brush at first but your grow confident easily, one hand cupping the nape of his neck just below the curve of his skull while the other ventures between you. 

Fingertips grazing his abdomen while you work at his trousers, laughing breathlessly into the kiss in a subtle bid for air when you feel a firmness at his crotch. Palming it testingly after you’ve undone his button and zipper, humming a pleased noise before you push at the pooling waist of the garment as you fall back against your pillows. 

“That isn’t your staff this time, is it, Alastor?” 

Alastor scoffs as he tosses away his bottoms, ridding himself of his final article in the meantime so you can appreciatively drink in the sight of him.

“Playing coy isn’t your strong suit dearest,” you shiver at the hint of agitation in his tone, but with delight this time. 

But even still, as you lose yourself to the overwhelming desire for him, your confidence wavers with his lack of enthusiasm over physical engagement. Peering up at him with a pathetic look about you, knit brows and a slight pout to your lips.

“Whatever the matter, are you losing your nerve?” Alastor teases as he lowers himself to you, hard cock sliding against slick lips, a gasp ripping from your lungs at the contact as you shake your head emphatically. Looping your arm beneath his to drape along his shoulder blades, ever so slightly pressing him more firmly against you. His head dips lower, allowing you to tuck your head into his throat and with his lips by your ear he growls out a simple, “lovely.”

Your hips twitch reflexively into his at the sound, delighted thrill dancing down each vertebra of your spine only to race back up when his mushroomed tip nudges against your clit. Sighing a soft sound as you chase the feeling, feet flat on the mattress top as you grind up into Alastor who chuckles bemusedly at how so little elicits so much from you. 

But he can admit to himself that you feel a kind of sinful he hasn’t partaken in for quite some time— if at all. He doesn’t remember, it’s never been a priority to him but it never hurts to indulge yourself every now and again. 

His arm slips beneath you, fingertips pressing into your back to force you to arch further into him as he reaches to firmly grasp the back of your thigh. Pressing his thumb into the flesh while his hips roll into yours, coating himself in your wetness and filling the room with sticky clicks until his cockhead catches on your entrance. You inhale sharply at the initial stretch, eyes rolling back behind closed lids causing them to flutter and Alastor to chuckle until he’s fully sheathed in you. 

“Sweetheart you are divine,” ironic, given where you’ve ended up for eternity but the praise adds to the pleasure Alastor causes. Falling into an easy rhythm with the pace that he’s set. 

Even and calculated, satisfying with each rut of his hips into your warmth. Your legs raise until your ankles hook at the base of his spine, heels resting gently at the small of his back and the position cants your hips just so, allowing Alastor to drive into that patch within you that you swear has you seeing Heaven's light. 

Singing his praises with saccharine sighs and pitched moans that break the syllables of his name that punctuate each thrust he delivers. 

Like music to his ears, and Alastor grits it out in so many sounds rather than sentences, a first for the Radio Demon for certain; a loss for words. If not for the choked grunts when your tight walls pulse in time with your heavily beating heart, you’d think he was enjoying himself far less than you were as the telltale coil tightened in your lower belly. Assured of his pleasure as he hastens in pace ever so slightly, rut of his hips hurried almost imperceptibly— or perhaps you were just too lost in the throngs of pleasure on the precipice of euphoria to notice. 

“Where would you like me dear,” the sound of his voice barely grounds you, blinking a few times before he repeats his question as your hands cup either side of his jaw. 

“You’re pretty old fashioned, h-huh? How about th— ah, good ol pull n’pray?” You giggle over your own joke while your fingers thread into the crop of his bob. Tugging gently before pointed claws scrape softly, soothingly, at his scalp while Alastors grin grows tight quickly. Hips stuttering out of rhythm while you’re wholly unaware of how your laughter forced you to grip him tighter so deliciously that it was the final nail in his proverbial coffin. Velvet walls constricting around his sensitive cock so sinfully and it ultimately leads to his demise. The lights of your room flickering and his eyes glow brighter with the warble of his voice contorting his groan. 

His nails dig into your skin as his body seizes while spilling into you, giving you surface level puncture wounds. The combination of pain and pleasure occurring simultaneously while Alastor fills you full has you following him into sweet rapture. Cells alright causing you to arch into him, emitting a throaty moan that drags out the final letter of his name. 

All while Alastor continues to work you both through the experience. Each of his movements deliberate in order to prolong the feeling but it does well to overstimulate you in the best of ways. Body twitching as his hips drag backwards only to push in with a salaciously lewd squelch, his spend dribbling from you as he fills you full. 

Too full, overwhelmed in the best way that you can’t stop yours from splaying your palms out over his back. Digging your heels with a little more pressure in incistance for closeness as your teeth sink into the soft tissues where his throat curves into his shoulder. 

Drawing a surprised snarl from him and biting out “careful now darling. Don’t get too carried away.” Breathless post ecstasy as his hips slow and you utter muted apologies, dotting tentative kisses to the marks blossoming in your wake but you’re more than glad to have left some tangible evidence of your coupling. 

Even if not a soul besides yourself will ever see them, it’s enough to know they’re there and this isn’t some very vivid perverse dream. 

A calm falls over the room as Alastor detangles you both from one another, his lids fluttering shut when you stretch before settling down. Turning over on the stomach and he’s certain you’ll slip into unconsciousness within a few minutes— figuring then is the time to take his leave.

He recovered first, anyway, sitting up while his fingers smooth down any unruliness your activities might’ve caused before he shifts. The motion draws your attention and, despite how badly you want to remain on cloud nine now that you’ve achieved it with a blissful shortcut, you crash from the high. Alert now as a bit of worry spikes in your bloodstream.

You reach out, just like you have a multitude of times today alone but Charlie did say the road to your redemption was seizing opportunities whenever they present themselves. Fingers encircling his thin wrist, the touch earning a questioning sound from him. 

Squirming under his gaze, suddenly the slightest bit self conscious as you ask the same thing that always tumbles from your lips with ease, “five more minutes?”

And for the second time today, Alastor complies. Turning on his side as you brighten and beam at him before closing the distance with a swiftness. Nose to his chest while your arms weave around his torso, humming contentedly when you both settle between the sheets. 

“You always say that.” 

[princekeerys]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do a Alastor x paralysis demon fem! reader (basically reader is like Freddy Krueger and can haunts peoples dreams and kill them. If the person they kill in their dream dies, they also die in real life.) The reader can always be tired since when the reader themselves fall asleep they’re transferred to someone else’s dreams so they don’t get sleep. Like none. So it’s just some fluffy stuff with Alastor and very sleepy reader! Extra points if you include reader having a demonic sheep pet with them. (Like how when people sleep they count sheep 🌝)

— my first piece of alastor literature! i’m very nervous that this isn’t accurate but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy :)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

oatmilk flavoured coffee, the type of beverage that comforted you and filled you with a sense of warmth and comfort. a yawn escaped you as the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent with every night that ended up sleepless.

it was yet another tiring night of drifting off to someone else’s dreams and adding pure nightmare fuel to the peace and quiet of an innocent victim, only to off them and add them to your kill count — you didn’t mind. it was entertaining to watch them try and escape and think that they’ve won, only for you to be the last thing they see before everything goes black.

but oh boy, was it exhausting.

you were sat on one of the sofas in the main entrance of the hazbin hotel, your legs resting to the side of you on the plush cushions as you rested against the arm rest, warm mug in hand, sipping peacefully.

you really wanted sleep. even a simple nap would do. but that was never going to happen, and you knew it.

“heavens, my dear, you look exhausted!” you look up from your outer-space-daze on the floor to see alastor. he’s got that usual smile on his face; you’re happy to see it. you give a meek grin in response. “you know me, always tired”

your feet are on the floor now as you give alastor a place to sit beside you. something about his presence beside you makes you feel warm; just like the coffee your drinking. that’s almost cold by now, but it’s fine.

“oh trust me, my dear, i’m well aware of how exhausted you’ve been as of late,” you take small glances at alastor as he cleans his monocle with his red coat sleeve, the way his oh-so fluffy hair flops with grace atop his head. perhaps it’s the exhaustion taking over your body as you begin to feel fuzzy on the inside.

yeah, definitely exhaustion.

“these hotel walls are missing your lively personality, sweetheart”

“…you’ve noticed?”

he doesn’t wanna admit it, bites his tongue as to not speak of such a thing. he wants to use the excuse of ‘his shadows see everything’ — which wasn’t half a lie in this particular scenario. but he has been noticing your tiresome self a lot more. he rolls his eyes “i’m the steadfast hotelier, i have to take notice in some things, don’t i? otherwise this establishment would be an absolute mess!”

“damn, too bad you didn’t take notice sooner, maybe i wouldn’t be an absolute mess right now” you take a sip of your drink, hiding your now blushing face behind your coffee mug.

oh, you really shouldn’t’ve said that.

“hmm, are you saying that you wanted me to take notice of you?” he takes up another space closer to you. of-fucking-course he’d do that. teasing bastard.

“i’m tired, al. i have no idea what i’m saying. what did i just say?”

you hear alastor chuckle as he stands up from his spot beside you, his presence now cold air beside you.

“perhaps try counting sheep tonight, darling. at least it would put that… pet you have to good use” you stop mid slurp, looking up behind your mug at the radio demon in front of you with scrunched eyebrows. cute.

“you leave lambie out of this”

like/reblog/comment if you liked my work, i greatly appreciate it!

[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

Lee!Vox Ler!Alastor perhaps???

Of course!

Short Circuiting

Summary: After Vox suffered another defeat from the infamous Radio Demon, said demon decides to pay him a little visit

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

Vox stared at the screen in front of him that displayed a large “No Signal” on it, a defeated and angry expression on his face before his face changed and red strings ran from his mouth to the edge of his screen and black rings emitted from his pupil in his left eye.

Just then he called Velvette and Valentino and they picked up almost immediately, “What is it Vox?” They asked him, noticing the fact that he was angry but didn’t seem to care.

“Meet me in the meeting room in ten minutes.” Vox began, voice laced with venom as he stood up, “We have a lot to discuss.” He growled that last part before slamming his fist onto his desktop, ending the call and the faint hum of television static entered the air as Vox stormed out the door, not bothering to close it on his way out.

~~~

“So what is it you wanted us here so urgently for Vox?” Velvette asked him, scrolling on her phone beside Valentino as Vox paced angrily. “Alastor needs to be stopped. That prick is getting more and more powerful and it’s not good for our business.” Vox informed them.

“Well how exactly do you plan to stop him? It’s not like he’s just a simple sinner, he’s one of the most powerful overlords!” Valentino pondered aloud, swirling his drink before taking a sip

“Oh I think I have just the idea. Alastor is helping little Princess Morningstar with her silly little hotel, luring him here with that information will be the way to do it.” Vox grinned evilly, “And what do you plan to do if he doesn’t accept?” Velvette interjected, “Oh trust me.” Vox began, turning around so he was facing away from the other Vees and began walking out the doors, “He will.”

~*~

“What is it you wanted me here for Vox?” Alastor asked the TV demon, grin visibly more strained as if he didn’t want to be there as he stood in Vox’s observatory.

“I have a proposition for you Alastor, you are a powerful overlord capable of so much more than being a simple hotelier for Princess Morningstar’s little hotel, how about you join the Vees? You’ll be able to do so much more~” Vox proposed watching as Alastor’s face morphed into one of his regular nonchalance.

“Thank you but no thank you old pal! I’m quite happy at the hotel!” Alastor grinned, “Well that’s unfortunate, looks like I’ll have to do THIS then!” Vox exclaimed before dropping into a crouch, sinking his claws into the floor and releasing a large sum of electricity through the floor.

Luckily Alastor realized and jumped out of the way before the electric shocks got to him but in turn, with a flick of his hand four shadowy tendrils burst out from the floor and slammed Vox against the wall, each tendril holding a limb in place.

Vox began to panic as the hum of TV static filled the air again as Alastor meandered closer, Vox began to struggle, pulling at his restrained limbs and sending bolts of electricity through the tendrils in an attempt to get away but it was no use so when Alastor finally reached Vox he had given up struggling.

“You of all demons should know better than to attack a superior demon.” Alastor lectured

“Yeah yeah just kill me and get it over with you old timer.” Vox muttered, looking up in confusion at Alastor’s snickers, “Kihill you? Now why would I do that?” Alastor asking him, voice laced with pure curiosity

“Well that is why you have me pinned here against my own wall is it not?” Vox grumbled in annoyance at Alastor’s oblivion, “Oh heheavens no my friend! I simply just have you like this to teach you a lesson on respect~” Alastor stated

Before Vox could question what that meant he felt one clawed finger start to prod harshly at his upper ribs and exposed underarm making the TV demon inhale sharply with a poorly concealed twitch of his mouth.

“My my looks like someone is a little ticklish~” Alastor teased, adding another finger to walk down along the length of Vox’s sides and occasionally slip to scratch at his stomach making Vox double over in his restraints as the smile he’d been fighting off threatened to make its way onto his face.

“Come on old pal don’t fight it, it’s only going to get worse from here~” Alastor taunted making a subtle shudder go through Vox’s body.

When Alastor finally moved around to skitter his fingers over the fabric of Vox’s suit on his back is when the TV demon finally broke and soft laughter filtered out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“There now isn’t that better?” Alastor grinned, “Screhehehehew yohohohou!” Vox snickered, “Well that’s not good, this lesson is on respect remember?” Alastor spoke again, “Ihihim nohohot a kihihihid!!” Vox growled through his laughter but hated the near whine to his voice.

Alastor then shifted back to his front and rested his hands on Vox’s stomach, vibrating his fingers into the sides that made the TV demon arch with a yelp, “Ahahahahalahastohor!” Vox howled, “Yes my friend?” Alastor snickered, “STAHAHAhahahahaHAHAP!!” Vox resorted to the one thing he thought he would never do, pleading with the Radio Demon.

“Mmmm no I don’t think so~” Alastor grinned once more, raising his hands to drill into Vox’s lower ribs making Vox’s laughter jump an octave. “DOHOHohohohohoHOHON’T!!” Vox snarled through his desperate laughter, “Don’t? Don’t what?” Alastor teased, ever present grin widened slightly.

Vox shook his head in defiance, no way in the seven rings was he falling for that! He just had to stay here and endure this, surely Alastor would get bored soon right?

“Ooohh what’s this?” Alastor’s voice suddenly cut through his thoughts as the deer demon’s ears flicked before his nimble fingers began lightly tracing and scratching the edges of Vox’s screen that had just started glowing a luminescent blue.

The sound of television static refilled the air and Vox’s face flushed that same luminous blue and soft giggles poured out of him, “Dohohohon’t!” Vox practically whined as one of his melt spots was targeted by his rival, he would never let Vox live this down…

“No need to be embarrassed old friend! I find this rather endearing~” Alastor taunted making Vox growl, “Still not learned your lesson? No matter we can fix that!” Alastor chirped and Vox noticed Alastor’s hand drifting up towards his antennae and immediately started protesting.

“Wait! Wahahahait I swehehear if yohohohou gohoho ahahahany higher yohohou are going to rehehegret ihiHIHIT!!” Vox suddenly uncharacteristically yelped loudly and dissolved into hysterical cackles as Alastor’s hands shot down to rapidly squeeze at his ribs but he still felt something fiddling with his antenna.

Through his hysterics Vox looked up and cracked one eyes open to see a shadowy tendril playing with his antenna and noticed Alastor’s teasing grin as he kept up the playful torment, “Y-YOHOHOHOU’RE GOHOHOING TO REHEHEGRET THIHIHIS!!” Vox snarled through his hysterics and just managed to make out the sound of Alastor tsking.

“Now that just won’t do! Still have an attitude, let’s fix that!” Alastor chirped before moving his tickling hands around to claw at Vox’s back. “FUHUHUHUCK OKAY YOHOHOHOU WIHIHIN I GIHIHIHIVE!!” Vox laughed, desperation present in his voice

“Do you now?” Alastor crooned, “YEHEHES DAHAHAMNIHIT ALAHAHASTOHOHOR I GIHIHIHIVE!!” Vox cackled, fans kicking on to cool his heating body, with a jolly laugh Alastor released Vox from his tickling fingers and the tendrils holding his disappeared leaving Vox to slump against the wall, letting out any residual giggles

“Dahahahamn yohohou Ahalahastohohor!” Vox growled, staring the Radio Demon in the eyes with a defiant grin on his face. “Haha this was fun old pal but I really must be going! Till next time!” Alastor grinned before merging with the shadows and leaving Vox to himself and only one thought was on his mind that night.

He was totally doing that again.

(Sorry if it was bad this was my first fic I tried but I hope you like it! :) )

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Four

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

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

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This chapter needed to happen to expand the plot. Don't worry, smut is coming soon - like next chapter soon! BTW this was written after episode 7 of Helluva Boss, Full Moon events have not yet happened.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Four - The Meeting

Content Warning: none, but let me know if I missed any!

Husk said he didn’t think you liked surprises and boy was he right. 

Charlie screamed the second you entered the kitchen, thrusting a present box into your arms. You were pissed, having not slept, tossing and turning in the silence of the night. 

You really needed to find a radio - it’s music had lulled you to sleep in the past - but now you were hesitant. The radio was Alastor’s domain, and you didn’t know what kind of power the device would have now that he was back in Hell. 

It’s the same reason why you never got a cell phone - you didn’t want Vox tracking your whereabouts or having access to your video camera. It would be a lot easier to figure out who you were if you did. 

You used the new collection of syrups and powders to make real creations for the staff to enjoy. You had to admit, it was fun, and finally gave you a chance to make a jasmine latte to your liking - something you hadn’t had since your early days working at the cafe. 

Alastor was nowhere to be found. So he didn’t see the tension in your body as you ate breakfast. He didn’t see you slip out after Angel and Husk got into it over the news of the Porn Star’s employer - now officially revealed to be Valentino. He didn’t see you tiptoe to your room, lock the door, pull your leather armor and cloak from the Void and clean them before today’s meeting. 

You checked for his shadow of course, to see if he was watching, but for whatever reason, the darkness was still. 

Doning your black garb, you double checked the silver stitching around the hood of your cloak, ensuring the magic seal was still intact. A few loose strands caught your attention but nothing serious enough to disrupt the enchantment. 

Okay. You were going out. In broad daylight. To attend a meeting with the most powerful Overlords in Hell. 

What could go wrong? 

____________________________________________

“Ope! Ope! Ope! Ope!” 

You landed on the sidewalk in a pile of… eggs? 

They stopped their incessant noise making before turning to you, confused but intrigued by the smoke pooling at your feet. 

“Are you on fire?” 

“Why can’t we see your face?”

“You smell like jasmine.” 

“Can I touch your cloak?” 

Sir Pentious’ eggs. What were they doing here? 

You took the elevator to the penthouse - which was really weird. Normally you’d just fly to the top and take the terrace entrance in, but Carmilla Carmine was hosting and she had earned your respect. Not simply because she had invited you, but for the many things before. 

“...I’m sure you’ve all been wondering!” Alastor’s voice hits you at the same time as the static finds your skin. 

Fuck.

“Not really, but welcome back in any case.” You tried hard to hold back your snort as you rounded the corner, appearing at the entrance of the conference room. 

“Ah, you’ve made it,” Carmine gestures to you. 

All eyes flit to you, cementing you to the tile floor where you stood. You did your best to keep your eyes locked with Carmilla’s not wanting to send the wrong message with a wondering gaze. You weren’t here to challenge anyone, certainly not on your first day, you were here as a guest of Carmilla’s and to stake a claim to the seat which has been offered. 

They room falls silent before Zestial finally speaks up. “Tis this the infamous Shadow thou spoke of, Carmilla?” 

You bow your head to the Overlord - and you mean “The” Overlord for he was the first. You had never met him in person before, but you’ve heard of him. 

God, he was even more glorious in person. You could taste the power wafting off him from where you stood. 

“What the heck! What is he doing here?” Zeeze began to protest. 

The colors of her fur were wild enough to make you sick. 

“I invited him,” Carmilla answered dismissively as if it was obvious. Zeezee and a few of the other Overlords protested save for Rosie and Alastor. You didn’t dare turn to them, however, you couldn’t risk anyone in this room catching any hint of your relationship with the Queen of the Cannibals nor could you risk Alastor suspecting any familiarity. 

Fucking Alastor. You blocked out his gaze the most from your mind.  

“The Shadow has risen to power faster second to none other than Alastor himself.” She gestures to the Radio Demon whose eyes haven’t left your form. “He now holds enough souls to rival even your own count, Zeezee. He’s earned a spot at this table.” 

Ha. Fuck you. 

“This is the Shadow…” Rosie chimes in. “Ha! I thought he’d be taller.” She laughs from Alastor’s side. 

“Well then!” The Radio Demon’s smile reappeared, catching you off guard. It’s a really good thing they couldn’t see your hands shaking beneath the cloak. “Please, do take a seat!” He motioned with his microphone to a chair at the end of the table. A shadowed hand wrapped around the leg and pulled it out, inviting you to sit. Once the others saw Rosie and Alastor cave, they felt a bit more relaxed - not enough to drop their guard, however.  

Rosie’s eyes caught yours at the other end of the table. She gave you an imperceptibly small smile, fleeting so as not to attract too much attention. 

At least you had one ally in this room. 

“This year's Extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost,” a slide projector turns on behind her. “With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we…” The door slams inwards, a loud-mouthed Velvette barging into the meeting. 

God, it was good that you needed to keep yourself composed here, otherwise you’d rip her head off and burn it to ashes. Every interaction you had with her just pushed the line more and more. 

She hangs up the phone, turning to grab the back of your chair and… “What in the Hell is this!?” Velvette motions to you sitting in the chair. “What is this piece of trash doing, sitting in my seat!?”

Smoke began pooling at your feet, angrily twisting about itself in waves. 

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your… colleagues be joining us?” Carmilla ignored her. 

“What? No, they have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent or I would be if this wanker would get out of my seat.” 

You didn’t move an inch. Moving would be yielding power to Velvette and you couldn’t let that happen. 

“Velvette, let me introduce you to the Shadow,” Carmilla motioned to you. 

Her red sclera flit between you and the weapons-dealing Overlord. “Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of name is ‘Shadow’ anyway?” She snorted. “This is so going on my Sinstagram. I can’t… Oh!” The purple phone explodes in her hand. 

You didn’t do that… 

Alastor laughs from his chair, “Oh my, what a mess you’ve made.” Her phone lay in a heap on the ground, electrical sparks flying every which way. 

Her tan skin turned a beat red, “Listen here you cock-sucking…” Her hand phases through your cloak as she attempts to grab you. She stands stunned, staring at her hand as if she couldn’t believe it herself. 

It was a cheap trick, but oh-so satisfying when it happened. No one could take the cloak off of you. Not unless you were dead or they knew who you were. 

You loved old magic. 

Velvette stood shell-shocked and speechless. 

No one stood up for you. No one intervened. They were all just as curious to see what you would do next. 

With a snap of your fingers, you pulled a chair from the Void, surrounding the materialization process with blue flame - just for flare. It was a dingy chair, metal and worn - nothing compared to the grand plush ones set aside for the other guests. That, however, was intentional. Summoning the chair wasn’t giving in to her tantrum, it was an insult in and of itself.

“Thank you, Shadow,” Carmilla nodded to you. “So, as I was saying, we need to discuss…”

Velvette uses the chair as a stepping stool, shooting daggers with her eyes at your face. She steps before you, her feet on the table, blocking your view of the room. 

Bitch. 

“On the subject of discussion…” She throws the severed head of an Exorcist across the table.

Oh, here we go! A dead Exorcist - if that didn’t speed up your plans you didn’t know what would! 

You watched as Velvette launched herself into a - obviously rehearsed - speech regarding an assault plan on Heaven. 

Ha! Vox and Valentino sure had big balls if they think they can take the fight to them. On the other hand, you would love to see that happen. They’d be squished before they even made it to the gates, turned into a pile of recycled electronics and whatever the fuck moths had - feathers? 

You’d find some way to take Velvette down personally. Take her out in the chaos with an angelic blade and blame it on the Exorcists of Heaven. You wouldn’t have the credit for the kill of course but did you really need that to begin with? 

The only reason you were sitting here, showing the world a face, assigning a name to your killings was because of Rosie. She was the one to convince you to take hold of the power you so rightfully earned when you were adamant about staying in the shadows. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though; the power you had in sitting here, seeing Velvette’s face turn red, was worth it. 

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't, they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” Zestial chimed in. 

You chuckled deep and low, earning a glare from Alastor. 

“Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?” She jumps into the Overlord’s face. “Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for…”

“You better show some respect!” Carmilla interrupts Velvette. 

Ugh, Sinners were always so dramatic. This was like dealing with the Crimson Mafia but worse - they didn’t have some Gen Z spoiled brat to deal with. 

You took advantage of the distraction, using the time to study each of the Overlord’s without them knowing. Zeezee was a big… uh… Hell hound? Which didn’t make any sense since Hell hounds were Native born, but that was a mystery for a different day. 

The Von Eldritch representative was absent, but you’d never interacted with him before either. The unnamed Overlord sat to Zeezi’s right, silent and emotionless. Carmilla and her daughters you had already known for years. Zestial was… God, he was a dream. 

The Overlord dripped with power. You wondered, just out of curiosity and not actuality, what he would be like to fight. He seemed so elegant and refined, sitting there sipping his tea. Is his fighting style much of the same? Would he seduce you with his lethality? You had heard that lesser demons flee just upon the sight of him. What has he done to earn such respect? You wanted to know, you wanted to…

Static crawled its way up your spine, freezing your muscles and silencing your thoughts. You felt the air shift beneath your smoke - no, the shadows shift beneath your smoke. They were cold, like how a summer day’s temperature drops in the shade. You could feel them as they shifted beneath you, slithering against your robes.

Alastor. 

You looked up to find the Overlord peering down at you, both hands crossed, his chin resting in his palms. His eyes were half-lidded as they raked over your cloaked form, like he was analyzing you, like he could see straight through the smoke and shadows to you underneath. It made you feel vulnerable. It made you feel weak. 

You met his gaze, not letting his intimidation show. You sensed curiosity from the Overlord. Sniffing, you tried again to smell his emotion, but the room was filled with the iritation wafting off of Velvette and Carmilla - cinnamon. Ugh, you hated cinnamon. 

Your eyes narrowed at the red demon, hoping he moves his gaze, but when he doesn’t relent you decide to repay his stare with a wandering set of eyes of your own. 

He was lean, yet built - his broad chest forming an upside down triangle disappearing into a slim waist line. Donning one of his well-pressed suits and matching slacks. His sense of style was impeccable you had to give him that - but of course, Rosie dressed him and you loved everything she made. Even if she forced you into a dress. He wore gloves - he always wore gloves - but his hands though…

Images of his claws scraping across your cheek and down your skin come flooding back. A shiver runs through your core at the memory of his touch on your neck, the way he licked his lips at the sight of the blood pumping through your veins. Alastor turned ravenous at the thought of tasting you. Fucking cannibals. 

But the way you moaned? God, how embarrassing. You had never made a sound like that in your life. Where had it come from? Why had it happened? 

And why did you like it?

Why did you want him to squeeze harder, to drag your lips to his…

Stop! 

Your face heated at the thought. Alarmed, you pulled your gaze back into your lap, earning a small chuckle from the Radio Demon. 

Where the fuck did that come from!? Get your shit together! You’re supposed to be a badass Overlord in a very important meeting right now. There was no space for thoughts of Alastor and… NO. NOPE. NOT GOING THERE.  

Of course such a devious man would be so enticing! It’s probably how he claimed his victims up top. Get them to like him and smile at them. Maybe he flirted and twirled their hair, before taking their hand and luring them into the dark forest with promises of… NO! STOP IT!

Jesus Christ, it was a really good thing no one could see your face right now. 

Velvette suddenly appeared, her nose mere inches from yours, “This isn’t fucking over!” She jumped to the ground, kicking the chair you pulled from the Void into the wall. “Safe travels back to the nursing home, fuckers! Kiss my ass!” She flipped you all off on her way out. 

It was silent for a beat before Alastor chimed, “That was a productive meeting!” 

What part of that was productive? 

The Overlords all got up from their chairs and headed for the exit, you follow suit, a little saddened at the fact that this meeting went nowhere. You had such high hopes the moment Velvette pulled out the severed head. Ugh, guess you were going to have to continue with Plan A. 

“Shadow,” Carmilla called. Her and her daughters hadn’t yet moved from their spots. “May I call on you later?” Zestial stood next to her, finishing his tea. 

You nodded before…

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Alastor stepped into your path, his hand outstretched. “Alastor, pleasure to meet you.”

Your palm was far, far smaller in his grip than you had expected. If his hands were this big then did that mean his…

You stifle a cough, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Charmed.”

His eyes narrow. 

Oh, he noticed. 

“May I interest you in a drink? I see it impertinent to get to know someone such as yourself as we may be able to… benefit one another.” The edges of his smile curled. It made your stomach bubble with anxiety - not the same feelings as butterflies, you should point out. 

Your eyes drifted back to the room, finding Rosie absent. You knew Alastor was going to pay an interest in the Shadow once he was made aware of your presence. You had risen to power just as fast as he had - how could he not pay attention to you? You just didn’t expect it right off the bat. 

“Alastor is a respectable man,” Carmilla jumps in. “He can be trusted” Her eyes weighed heavily on you. She was throwing you a bone, trying to tell you what to do in this situation. 

Alastor respected only those who respected him. Insult him and he will show you no kindness -  Vox being the prime example. You weren’t prepared to take him on just yet, and if he ever found out who you really were, it would completely derail your plans. Besides, if you shut the door now, there was no telling if or when it was going to open again. Remember what you had decided last night at the bar: get to know the Radio Demon, throw him off the scent. 

Pulling the obsidian calling card from your breast pocket, you held it out to him. “A drop of scarlet beneath night’s mistress.” 

A drop of scarlet: blood. The night’s mistress: darkness. Anyone in possession of an obsidian calling card merely had to drip a single drop of their blood atop the card. That drop of blood was the tie in you needed to begin a deal with whomever summoned you. 

Only certain people carried those cards, those who you had bestowed the gift upon. Only once had a card fallen into the wrong hands - and ONLY once. You would never let that happen again. Which was why, from here on out, you needed to be picky with whom you entrusted these to. You didn’t know if you could trust the Radio Demon, but again you couldn’t let this door close. 

“Oh! How ominous.” He slipped the card into his jacket pocket as you exited the conference room, doing your best to ignore the pinpoint glare on the back of your head and the demon who held it. 

____________________________________________

SLAM! Velvette kicks the door open, stomping her way into Vox’s office. “That cock-sucking bastard! Who the fuck does he think he is!?” 

Vox rolled his eyes, continuing to click away on the computer monitor, “No, please Velvette come right in.” 

The brat demon slumped into a chair, her boots kicking up on the desk’s top. The female Vee reclined in the chair, a look of pure anger on her face. “He sat in my seat. My seat! And insulted me right in front of the Overlords of Hell!” 

“Uh-huh,” Vox feigned interest, continuing to click away. 

“And the Old-ass Hag let him! They all just sat there and let him! Where was the fucking respect!?” The Vee jumped to her feet, a thumb jabbed into her chest. “I’m Velvette - the Velvette. I’m a fucking Overlord! He’s just a glorified bed sheet with an attitude!” 

“Yeah,” Vox switched to a different browser - still not listening.

“He’s dead.” Velvette declared, climbing onto the desk. “He’s fucking dead the next time I see him.”

“That sounds nice,” Vox mindlessly added. 

“That sounds nice? What… What the fuck are you doin’?” The female Vee reached down and spun the monitor around. 

A thousand tabs were open, each containing different social media page profiles, image searches, or links to various surveillance cameras around town. 

Velvette shot the media demon a dumb look. “This is why you had to skip the meeting!? You’re still lookin’ for that girl, aren’t you?” 

“What?” Vox pretended to look offended. “No! I’m not… I mean… Why would I…?” His words trailed off at the sight of Velvette’s irritated face. “Maybe.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Give me your phone,” she held out her hand. 

“Use your own phone!” The media demon snapped.

Velvette’s glare turned lethal. “You do not want to mess with me today, princess. Give me the goddamn phone!” 

Vox knew better than to argue with the female Vee when she was in a mood. 

Handing over the device, he watched as she clicked across various different media sites before she paused on one in particular. All in all she took about three minutes total of searching before she turned the device around.

And there you were. Hidden amongst a million photos of bugs and random blurry pictures of red ceilings and floors was you in Angel’s arms. 

“How the Hell…” Vox reached for his phone, staring dumbfounded at the photo.

Velvette smirked, a wicked gleam in her eye, “Guess where your mysterious Alley Girl is staying…” 

Vox read the page name, his one eye blinking red with rage, “Alastor…”

____________________________________________

“The Vees are going to be a problem,” Carmilla pondered, one hand wrapped around her chin. 

“I agree,” you growled from your place atop the terrace. The night was colder than expected - perhaps an ominous omen of what was to come. 

“What do you suggest, Mother?” Odette chimed from the chair. Her sister silent and still as always. 

“I suggest we do nothing,” she shrugged, “but wait and watch. If the Vees want to take up arms against the Angels they will not do so alone. We need to ensure that they stay alone.” At that, she eyed you. 

You knew what that meant - a lot of fucking nights at the V Tower listening to a whole lot of nothing. She needed you to play spy. Carmilla would do her part, of course, watching and learning using her own set of spies - she wasn’t one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell for her weapons business alone. 

You stood there and waited for her to name her price. Watching the Vees was in her best interest - not yours. She didn’t know that, but she knew you disliked them so and she knew your services weren’t free. They were never free. Finally, she laid down a number. You weren’t happy with it, but you also owed Carmilla for your seat at the table. Thus, you wouldn’t complain. 

Turning, you headed for the edge of the balcony, preparing to jump before she stopped you again. “I feel the need to explain myself.”

You had another place to be tonight and, of course, you were already late. 

You don’t turn back to her, expecting this to be brief. 

“My girls and I have known you from the beginning,” Carmilla began. From the corner of your eye, you watch Odette and Clara’s eyes grow big. “And although you don’t trust me anymore, know this. I do not do the things I do for you because of who you are, but because of who you have made yourself into.” 

Images of Clara’s blood and Carmilla’s screams fill your vision. You shake the memory away. 

“The last thing I wish to see is you harmed.” Her voice breaks. “I. Am. Sorry.”

Your eyes flit to Clara, yet the girl didn’t meet your gaze, guilt held in her tight-lipped mouth. 

You knew how sorry she was. You knew. 

You take off into the night. 

____________________________________________

From the shadows of the I.M.P office rose a figure clad in red. 

The imp working the desk jumped in shock, spewing coffee over the papers on his desk. “Holy shit! Mr. Radio… The Radio… Over… Demon Lord…”

“Alastor, is fine. Pleasure,” the demon smiled, his teeth and eyes practically glowing in the night. 

“Moxie! Millie! Fuck! Get in here!” He screamed at the door, sprinting to the otherside of the desk to pull out a chair. The wooden seat shoke in his arms, clacking against the floorboards. Even the Natives were afraid of him, it seemed. 

Two smaller imps burst through, but jumped back at the sight of the Overlord seated in front of Blitz’s desk. 

“The… The… Radio… De… Demon…” Moxie tried to speak from behind the cover of his darling wife, but words would not agree with him.

“Yes, yes,” Alastor waved. “I believe we’ve covered that part already, haven’t we?”

Blitz pulled out about fifty pens, only one making it into his hand and the other fourty nine spewing onto the floor. He ripped a few pieces of paper before finally pulling one free and set about writing notes. “What can we do ya’ for, your Overlordness?” He gave an awkward laugh, his elbow tipping the cup of coffee over on his desk. “Shit. Fuck. Shit. Moxie get me a towel!”

The lesser imp and his wife disappeared from the room. 

“I need you to find someone for me,” Alastor purred, his hands resting atop his microphone. 

“Find someone… We don’t really do…” As Blitz talked, the green glare of Alastor’s aura began to fill the room. 

Blitz swallowed dryly, trying to think. “Yeah, Oh… Okay we can find someone for you. What’s their name?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor’s smile strained. He didn’t like not having the upper hand in any situation. Part of the reason why he was here, he needed more information. He needed leverage, just in case. 

“You don’t know…” Blitz rose an eyebrow. 

“What’s a hound got to do to get some sleep around…” A female Hellhound turned the corner, coming eye to eye with Alastor before slinking away, whining as she went. 

“No, I do not know, for they are already dead and do not go by their Christian name,” Alastor continued. 

“Already dead… What the fuck are you here for? We kill alive people.” Blitz was now thoroughly confused, but Alastor was having none of that. 

“I want information on who and what they did when they were alive,” His smile was strained against his teeth. His patience was being tested. 

“Why?” The imp asked. 

Wrong thing to say. 

“Oooooh, shit,” Blitz jumped behind his desk to shield himself from the growing mass that was Alastor’s demon form. “Okay! Okay!” The imp caved. “We’ll do whatever you want! We just need a name! Shit. Somewhere to start, at least!?” 

The Radio Demon shrank back, finally happy to hear some progress. It was getting harder and harder to contain his anger lately. 

“She goes by Thestral.”

-> Link to Chapter Five

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[countycashew54]

GUYS IM WRITING FANFIC

Caught-AlastorxLucifer fic

Also please remember this is my FIRSTT attempt at writing so... if you yell at me I will cry.

Waking up after a one-night stand is rough.

Waking up after a one-night stand with the Radio Demon proved to be just as horrific, if not more. Only the difficult nature of this wake up had little focus on Alastor at all. In fact, the opposite.

See, when you wake up to your daughter and her entire hotel, residents and staff, (although that's not saying much) barging into your room while you're in bed with the man who is also trying to parent your daughter; you're bound to have an extremely, painstakingly rough morning.

"Dad we can't fin- oh. OH-wo- that is jus-... Dad is that- Alastor?" Charlie was very clearly fighting to keep her shock and disgust off of her face, with a forced smile. Whether it was from seeing her father and her hotelier in bed together or the state of unclothed said men were in remained to be seen.

"Morning Deer!" Alastor smiled, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Shit- Charlie, sweetie, this isn't what it looks like, I mean we- he-"

"NO- I mean, no need to explain dad! I am super happy to see you guys are finally…getting along! In fact, I am SO happy about it that I am going to create an activity for our patrons focused on making friendships and boundaries! You know maybe you two could be the ones to lead the activity and-" Charlie's shock-toned voice began to trail off as she was slowly walked away from the room by Vaggie, who managed to glare threateningly at them both with her one eye.

Seconds, minutes?, passed by with Alastor adjusting his hair as if nothing just occurred, while Lucifer was engaged in a reluctant stare down with Husk, Angel, Niffty, and Sir Pentious.

Angel was the one to break the standoff, a wide grin on his face.

"So I guess now I know why Smiles wasn' intrested in gettin' a sample of all o' this," a lewd gesture to his legs by one set of hands, and a scrunch of his chest fluff with the other, "when I offered huh?"

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the spider while Lucifer began to feel a golden glow coming to his cheeks, "A-and why would that be? exactly?"

"ain't it obvious? Al clearly got a kink for short kings wit' more power than he's used to, I don' fit the bill on either o' those."

"I think you will suffice to close your mouth before you end up caught in your own web, Pest." The Radio Demon's eyes had begun to darken to black as his antlers grew steadily.

"HA! He's only mad cus' I totally got it right! Huskie-baby you owe me twenty bucks!"

"Yeah, yeah let's get out of here before he decides you're his next meal," Husk had begun pushing Angel away in almost the same manner Vaggie had with Charlie.

Another moment of silence ticked by..

"Ssso-" Pentious was cut off by Lucifer's growl.

"LEAVE. please," horns and scarlet eyes flared.

As Pentious fled, Niffty awaited instruction from Alastor, who then nodded to release her from her stand still. Once she was out of the doorway Lucifer slammed the door closed with a flick of the wrist, falling back into the pillows with a groan.

Alastor had returned to his usual form, still sitting upright he glanced towards Lucifer, "well that was an entertaining start to the morning."

Lucifer ripped himself upright to glare at the man, "what part of making our little night of fun known to the entire hotel, to my daughter, was entertaining to you?"

"Why the overwhelming discomfort from all parties involved of course," He then leaned forward to whisper, "you included, my darling, you now know how much I love to watch you squirm."

Lucifer froze as the words processed through his brain and sent chills down his body. His eyes slightly crossing as he gazed at the sinner with shocked lust.

As Lucifer was processing, the demon had already stood from the bed and snapped his clothing back into pristine condition with the use of his shadows, "I do hope to see you at this morning's breakfast, the tense atmosphere that our daughter facilitates won't be the same without you, mon ange."

With a swift kiss to Lucifer's cheek the sinner was out the door, humming a radiostaticed tune that sounded vaguely from the 30's.

Lucifer stayed still for a moment, calming his body down while also wondering what had just happened. A jolt came to him when he realized, “WAIT, OUR DAUGHTER?”

Once again, please be nice to me this is my first time writing anything so I literally winged it. Hope you guys enjoyed it :,)

[rallentando1011]

Somnambulant Soulmates (rise Donnie x gn reader)

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Word Count: 3204

Content warning - implied blunt force trauma (it’s brief and not in great detail - if you want to avoid it, stop reading after the line of ~~~~~~~~~)

Each step you took through the hotel lobby emitted a soft thud on the blood red, thinly carpeted floor.

No bellhop nor hotelier’s presence could stop you as you stormed past the front desk, up a small staircase, into the elevator. Not that they tried.

Coming to think of it as the elevator doors clicked shut, none of the freakishly homogeneous staff did anything but stare at you. That’s all they ever did at the Grand Nexus, apparently.

Shaking your head and yourself out of that tangent, you waved your hand in front of the array of buttons to the right of the door. After a moment, a flurry of what could best be described as bright, magical dust washed over the elevator, changing the gold and red room into jade and the typical letters on the buttons into indecipherable ones.

Jaw clenched tightly, you pressed your definitely not trembling index finger on the topmost button, the elevator whisking you up, up to the topmost level.

With a ding of the doors, you arrived at your destination and walked in a steady path forward.

Opulent portraits and vases lining your path all but screamed luxury, though that wasn’t remotely a surprise.

After a brief moment, you made it to the doorway of an office, the contents of it hardly visible in all the darkness flooding in from the large glass panes along its back wall.

“You wanted to see me?” you spoke, trying to exude confidence despite the hammering of your heart.

“Ah, yes. Do come in,” called back a voice, one that had been plaguing you for weeks. As you pressed further into the office, the figure came into view behind a desk. Towering, grinning a crooked grin, folding her gargantuan four arms in front of her chest, there stood the one who demanded your presence - the spider yōkai-organized crime boss herself - Big Mama.

“What do you want?” Your voice was firm, but not insolent.

“Straight to the marrow, no time to throw me a bone,” the arachnid said with an ingenuously hurt tone. You weren’t amused.

“Very well,” Big Mama conceded, continuing to grin at your chagrin, “back to business. I require an itsy-bitsy favor to close up our deal.”

Your breath stopped, the anxiety you felt outside whittling a pit in your stomach once again, your confident façade fading by the second.

Your dread felt well placed after you heard her words.

“Bring me the ingenious invention-a-gizmo you’ve been monitoring so thoroughly these recent weeks.”

It only took a moment to digest her words and formulate a definitive response.

“No.” You cut tersely through the tense atmosphere. “We have a deal, and I am, I have been upholding my end of it. It doesn’t count- It is not fair to change the conditions. Blueprints, pictures, reports - that’s all you’re allowed to ask of me. I never agreed to take anything, so no, I will not be doing that.”

“Oh, dearie me, I hadn’t the slightest idea that you could get so prickly-perturbed. That was cute. Back to business, though-”

“I’m serious. I’m done,” you interjected. “I already did my part, now you need to uphold yours.”

Big Mama lost the crooked grin, the amusement in her eyes morphing into a chilling cold.

“Your little display has lost its appeal, dearie. Your insolence is teetering on the tippity-top of ticking Big Mama off. Yes, we made a deal, and you certainly shall be compensated in full, but the pudding’s in the proof, the danger’s in the details, you signed a binding contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You never explicitly specified that your collecting fizz-a-ma-whizzle did not include bringing Big Mama one of those fantabulous contrapulations. Anything unlisted is grey area, and your contract is swarming in it.”

“This- You can’t-”

“Oh, but I can. And I have. And I will.” The spider regained her composure, her smug demeanor, her wicked grin. “I expect the device delivered pristinely at my doorstep by the end of the week, or I am due compensation of a similar value.”

           Big Mama paused, leaned in with a widening grin. “Maybe your indentured servitude, or perhaps the turtle himself will work? Choices, choices.”

You stilled, disconcerting pinpricks prickling up your spine. The implications of what she could and would do hung thickly in the air, and based on the predatory flash in her eyes, she noticed.

“Understand our deal?” the spider yōkai asked, voice sickeningly sweet, smug.

“Yes.”

A few days passed with no progress on your objective. That didn’t mean you stopped thinking about it, though. No, thoughts about your situation and how you’d gotten into played in the back of your mind the entire time.

You had been lying.

Blatantly.

Brazenly.

But not remorselessly.

No, certainly not. The guilt of the past few months of spitting fabrications of the truth had been eating at your insides, whittling a deep, guilty cavity in your gut every time you were confronted by your untruths.

Yes, guilt was definitely the only reason your stomach ached every time you saw Donnie. Nothing else.

It all started when you rented out a car a few years ago to deliver orders for your job for an alluring amount of additional pay.

Sure, you knew having a car in a highly concentrated city was a risky venture, but the payoff, after a year or so, would be worth it.

That is, it would have been worth it if the Krang hadn’t attacked and decimated the city, the economy and, most pertinently, the car.

You were sunk. But, with all the other chaos amidst the invasion, the car quickly fled from your memory. You figured either the city or someone’s insurance or something would cover it.

Until this year when you got a knock on your front door and saw a towering purple mantis man on your porch demanding compensation for the payments missing for the car. With interest, of course.

You went slack-jawed as the repo man-tis(?) revealed the price.

You hadn’t an object that amounted to that value. Heck, your entire net worth could hardly amount to that. Probably didn’t.

You asked for paper verification or the logic behind the price, though the only response you received was a flex of his muscles.

You were fairly certain that this was extortion.

You were also certain that this guy could and would absolutely demolish you.

After you insisted that paying or giving something of equal value was not possible, the mantis, displeased, begrudgingly sent you in the direction of someone he knew who could pay it off in exchange for some sort of deal.

Unfortunately, that help had been yet another violet-themed, insect-adjacent person, and that one was even worse.

You had gone to meet the spider, and as you were practically getting interrogated as she tried to find your worth, April oh so conveniently happened to call to invite you to her birthday.

One fumble of your phone and the call had been answered, leaving you scrambling to turn it off and Big Mama with her eyes wide in recognition.

And suddenly the arachnid had found use for you.

All you had to do was extract information - photos, reports, blueprints from just one project - from one of April’s friends who, as Big Mama explained, also adorned purple attire frequently, and you were free from all the debt from that blasted automobile.

One handshake and signature later, and you had yourself a deal.

Simple enough.

Little did you know that it would lead you to the devastating deadlock between your feelings and your funds. It was meant to be a no feelings involved sort of deal, but there had been some unfortunate complications, namely the bond you’d made with the turtle.

The impending deadline of the deal and the moral dilemma of literally stealing something someone was pouring their time and effort into 

End of the week… Did she mean the end of the business week or the calendar week? Either way, it wasn’t best to test the apparent mob boss’ patience.

Whatever you decided to do, you needed to do it quickly.

“Hex key.”

Donnie’s voice pulled you out of your trancelike series of thoughts and back to the present. Sitting in the lab, passing him utensils as needed, alternating listening to songs of his choice and those of yours, it was what had grown to be a typical night.

“Hex key,” you parroted, scanning his desk for the desired tool.

“Hex key - you know, the hexagonal wrench? Anytime now.” His tone bordered concerned and perturbed.

“Patience, ‘Tello. I don’t even know what that is,” you explained and tried to think of what a “hexagonal wrench” would look like.

He paused, thought of trying another name for it. “Allen wrench?” Bingo.

“Oh, yeah, Allen wrench,” you concluded, found it and handed it to him immediately.

“Sigh, common names and the imperial system, how they plague our society,” he tutted as he set to work on the invention with the wrench.

“Scientific names, my Roman Empire,” you agreed in wistful satire. But he agreed genuinely.

“Precisely. I could pull off Apalone spinifera, don’t you think?” He looked up from his tinkering, smirked, quirked a brow.

“I think I prefer Donnie.”

You grinned warmly. The inflection of his brow shifted, relaxed, softened his gaze. Before it turned devious once again. “Cringe.”

You gaped. “Oh, come on. I open up to you, and this is what I get?”

He shook his head.

You wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. “You know that you drop so many worse lines than that all the time.”

“Like what?” he questioned sardonically and turned back to tinkering.

“You know, something like I could whoop Galileo or swooning over Democritus or something.” 

“I have never ‘swooned’ over Democritus. This is slander.” 

“Oh atoms, my atoms,” you teased in a pedantic tone, making both you and the hypocrite grin.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, Donnie working and you observing, until one of your song choices came on.

“Scoff, may we change the song? This one’s way too slow,” Donnie muttered, not ceasing his methodical cranking of the wrench.

“This is literally webcore. How could that be too slow?” You tilted your head at him.

“I don’t know, just can’t really groove with it, you know?”

It was your turn to scoff. “Oh come on, my music taste is totally danceable. If that’s a real word.”

“Anything can be a word nowadays.”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you slapped a hand on the table, successfully drawing his, albeit judgmental, attention. “It is big talk to accuse my music, my livelihood, of being incapable of stimulating dancing without any evidence to support it.”

“Are you suggesting something?”

“No, I’m demanding something - prove it.”

Donnie blinked, incredulous. “Really?”

You smirked in reply. “Yep.”

“Right now?”

“Mmhm.”

“And how exactly do you propose I do that?” Donnie posed the question as he finally set down his work, propped his chin up with his elbow.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You ask me to dance.”

“Haha, yeah, I do that all the time, the whole dancing with other people thing.” Donnie bluffed terribly, drawing yet another snort from you.

“There’ll be a learning curve for us both, that’s okay,” you conceded with a grin, stood, and offered your hand.

He took it.

The other hand tentatively, shakily placed itself on your hip. It took genuine effort not to laugh at how red he turned. To be fair, you probably did the same.

You felt a light squeeze on your hand, a small nudge at your side, and you were off.

Spinning through the lab, maneuvering around dazzling devices and metal, it was a whirlwind of upbeat melodies and mellow purple lights and him.

His initial shy demeanor quickly turned confident, guiding you through twists and spins, though he always kept a respectable distance between you two. You joined in, your spare hand taking residence on his shoulder as you two whipped around.

His smile, a genuine one, was positively contagious as he twirled you and pulled you back in, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

The song ended with a bang, and you found yourself dipped back, a hand on your waist and one on your lower back holding you up. As you looked into each other’s eyes, neither one of you could resist bursting into a fit of giggles.

Your laughter faded slowly into huffs of air as you caught your breath, though neither of you moved an inch.

You couldn’t definitively say which one of you did it first, but someone’s glance subtly flickered down, uncertain of itself. The other’s did the same.

A lump in your throat suffocated any breath or thoughts before they could make it past your lips.

Well, that escalated quickly.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face.

No, this was wrong.

Not the situation itself, obviously. The moment itself was so fitting and dreamlike and right, but the pretenses it was under were so wrong.

Just shy of contact, what you knew would be incredibly, spuriously honeyed, you retracted.

The spontaneity of your doubt was only rivaled by how quick you both broke apart, the fluttery uncertainty in both of your chest cavities immediately replaced with an all-encompassing anxiety of having messed up exceptionally.

“My apologies. I hadn’t realized you-”

“No. You’re okay,” you cut him off. “I just, uh, can’t right now.”

Idiot. You felt, sounded, were acting like an idiot. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that-”

“No, please don’t apologize. You genuinely didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” you reassured with a hand on your chest.

A beat.

Donnie twiddled his fingers and looked back at you. “...So, if I may ask, what’s the issue?”

Just as soon as you had all aspects of your situation under control, you had to act morally, as if telling the truth now fixed any of the wrongdoings nor the misdeeds nor the corrupt actions you’d already taken. Idiotic was what it was, but also necessary.

So you told him.

The truth poured from your mouth before you could stop it. Everything about your borderline espionage and Big Mama and the financial detriment failure posed - though you skidded around the threats - flowed breathlessly, frantically from you. Eyes firmly locked on the ground, you laid all of your cards down. In all honesty, you autopiloted for the majority of your confession, but jumped back in to conclude.

“I’ll be honest, I was half-convinced that all of the mutant-yōkai-whatever-the-heck situation I’d gotten myself into was fake, but it’s real. All of the debt and spying and- and you guys, everything is real and I didn’t- couldn’t even process it for a while but now I realize that you are also a person, with feelings and- and trust that I haven’t been treating correctly. I’m,” you sucked in a deep yet uncertain breath, “I’m so sorry.”

You finally worked up the nerve to look at him, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer swarm of emotions that had taken over his face.

You had expected his incredulous, irate reactions, his mouth agape and brow furrowed.

But, greatly to your surprise, he was laughing, albeit ryely, but laughing nonetheless.

Donnie planted a hand on his forehead as his pitiful laughter slowed to a sigh. “Of course. I knew it wasn’t feasible to run into one person so many times. The probability, the statistics didn’t add up. But this explains it.”

You stared, trying to gauge his reaction. That part hadn’t been planned at all, but you weren’t looking to argue. “Okay..?”

“And that also explains why you kept hanging around, why you pretended to care about my stupid little project.”

“That’s not-”

“And why you pretended to care about me,” Donnie continued. Your chest ached at how his voice waived, almost broke.

“No matter what I had to- chose to do then, I promise that I never meant to hurt you. And I didn’t pretend to care for you,” you urged.

He sighed. Not his normal way where he actually said the word, just a genuine sigh. “If only I could trust that.” His voice lowered to nothing above a whisper, almost to himself. “Would you have shown any interest in me and my inventions at April’s party - at the library - if you hadn’t been paid to?”

You hesitated, thinking of the honest answer, that yes, even though it started out as an obligation you would have chosen to spend time with him a thousand times over.

But your hesitation was answer enough.

Donnie turned, pinched the bridge of his snout and huffed.

“Wait,” you protested, “that’s not what I meant. Of course I would have-”

“Leave.” He cut you off quietly but sternly. “I can’t talk with you right now.”

You understood, swallowed the rest of your sentence. Without another word, without another glance, you bit your cheek and backed your way out of the lab.

A silent moment passed.

Donnie lifted his head from his hand and blinked away the stinging tears threatening to form in his eyes. His throat burned with so many feelings he hadn’t the words to express, though the main culprits were rage and an inconsolable devastation.

He’d let you get close, something he rarely allowed, and this happened?

He thought that someone finally had interest in his knowledge, in his inventions, in him.

He’d let himself drift into a dream, one packed with genuine enjoyment and whimsy and you.

But that’s the thing about dreams, about painfully dulcet reverie endeavors.

Eventually, you have to wake up.

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

The now familiar path through the sewers to the surface whipped by in a blur. You barely processed emerging from the sewers, eyes glossy and mind in a deep debate with itself.

The wind bit harshly against your nose, ears, arms - you’d abandoned your jacket on the back of your chair in his lab and definitely wouldn’t be getting it back for a while - as you all but sprinted home.

The situation could have been worse, but you still felt terrible. You knew that the lie couldn’t exist in perpetuity, that the truth would eventually reveal itself, but that didn’t mend the relationship you’d built, the trust you’d earned.

You took a sharp turn in the direction of your home.

Oh, he probably hated you. He’d probably tell everyone and they all would despise you. Not that you deserved anything but that.

You turned swiftly into the alleyway leading to your place and a loud whack cut through the air.

You didn’t have time to process the sound nor the weblike substance that vigorously pierced your back before you were eating concrete, head aching and vision failing.

Persnickety whispers of keeping “tibbiting-tabs” on current deals and the deep waters that your insolence had gotten you into pounded faintly against your head, almost drowned out by the dull throb at the base of your skull, the scrape of rough pavement against your face, the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

The pain and panic faded quickly, though, alongside your awareness as you easily slipped into an induced state of unconsciousness.

…………..…………..…………..…………..…………..…………….

(yeah uh this one’s kind of a doozy - at least you finally get the reveal of how I named this fic?)

Taglist ~ @rottmntsimp

@envyjmoney

[hazbeans-for-thee]

Radioapple Week Day 2 - Enemies/Pining

Characters: Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar

Warnings: None

Word count: 689

Summary: A quiet day at the hotel causes Alastor to get curious at Lucifer’s current activities.

[A/N: See if you can spot the vague plot point that connects each of these stories!]

Alastor was wandering the corridors of the hotel a little while after lunchtime, something he found himself doing when he had little else to do. He had started near his own room, and has crossed the length of the hall to the king’s side of the floor.

Alastor curled his lip for a moment with disdain as his eyes fell on the elaborately decorated doors that provided entrance to Lucifer’s room. Why had he insisted on interrupting the flow of aligned doors just to stick comically large doors in their place? It made little sense to the demon, so he pressed his lips together into a tight smile as he walked by. However, he came to a stop after a moment, his attention now turned toward the doors. His ears turned forward, trying to identify the nature of the sound. With a chuckle, he sunk into the shadows of the floor and crossed the threshold of the king’s room to find out what he was doing.

Lucifer was currently bent over a large work table that was pushed against the far wall. His coat and hat had been discarded, with the coat on the floor and the hat sitting on the edge of his bed. Alastor grimaced and waved his hand, causing the discarded clothes to be enveloped in a green glow and float above the floor. The coat was folded and placed on the dresser, with the hat sitting on top. Honestly, he must have to do everything around here.

It seemed that Lucifer had been the source of the noise. As he tinkered away at his newest creation, he hummed a familiar tune under his breath. “Hey, hobo man, hey dapper Dan, you’ve both got your style… but brother you’re never truly dressed without a smile…~”

Without a sound, Alastor stepped closer to Lucifer. He had to admit, even if the man had his faults, he had a nice singing voice. He wondered as well how long it would take for him to be noticed. He got his answer a moment later, when Lucifer turned around and nearly fell over with how fast he stumbled backward. “What-! What in the unholy hell are you doing in here!?”

“Why, I simply came to check on our most esteemed guest at hour humble establishment,” Alastor answered. “Is it not my job as the hotelier to ensure the satisfaction of all current residents?”

“You could’ve at least knocked,” Lucifer grumbled as he straightened his posture.

Alastor chuckled as he tapped his nails against his microphone. “But would you have answered if I had?”

Lucifer opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Alastor smiled in a smug manner at the reaction. “May I inquire as to what you’re working on, your majesty?”

Lucifer quickly stepped back, his back against the side of the desk. “Oh, you know, nothing important,” he said simply.

Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Surely if it’s taking up this much of your time, it can’t be nothing at all.”

“Well, it’s none of your business,” Lucifer snapped back as his hands fell to his hips. “So there.”

“It’s going on within the walls of the hotel, and it is my job as the hotelier to ensure the comfort and safety of our guests,” Alastor said as he straightened his posture a little.

“Does it look like anything particularly interesting or dangerous is happening?” Lucifer asked. “No, clearly not,” he then answered with an irritated tone with a slightly dismissive wave of his hand. “If there’s nothing else you wish to discuss, please leave.”

Alastor thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Of course, your majesty.” With that, Alastor waved with his fingers as he sunk back down into his shadow and slid under the door.

Lucifer let out a nervous breath as he turned back to the table. A small duck sat in the middle, with half its body now covered in red paint. “That was a close one… now, to return to my magnum opus,” he said as he picked up the paintbrush. “I can hardly wait to show you off!”

[beevean]

So I'm putting some thoughts about how I see Charlastor in order, just in case I'll need them in the future lmao

Alastor craves power, control, and freedom. These are his main drive forces. The reason Lucifer's presence in the hotel rattles him so much is because he is both more powerful than him, a mere demon... and because he is a more important person in Charlie's life, and she asked for his help rather than Alastor's. While most of his taunting Lucifer about being a better dad than him comes from a place of wanting to hit the King of Hell where it hurts, he's also clearly consolidating his hold on Charlie's heart... who doesn't protest the fact that this consummate liar is calling her "his daughter".

(related to this, Charlie beams when Alastor calls her "good girl", which is completely normal I'm sure 🙂)

Alastor is implied to have been forced by whoever is holding him on a leash to protect the Hotel, going by his wording in Dad Bead Dad. By the end of S1 he is sick of it and wants a way out... but it's also implied he was growing a little fond of the hotel.

Charlie's feelings for Alastor seem to be ambivalent. By Hello Rosie, she's still fully aware that Alastor is a sadistic jerk who delights in people's suffering, and she is extremely reluctant to make a deal with him, putting every stipulation she can think of. However, she has also defended him against Lucifer by saying that he trusts what she's doing, and she's comfortable enough to talk to him about her personal problems with Vaggie even as it's clear that he couldn't care less lmao

Alastor giving his beloved mic to Charlie could be seen as a sign of genuine trust as well: by that point, he doesn't need to go the extra mile to manipulate her, since she owes him "a favor".

Alastor's touchy tendencies have been downplayed since the pilot, when he even slapped Vaggie's ass to annoy her. But he still enjoys touching Charlie a lot 👀 Both in a creepy, possessive way (bro really laid on the bed next to her...), and in a genuinely cute, friendly way. Charlie clearly doesn't mind the latter.

In short: related to the fact that Alastor enjoys being at the center of everyone's attention and is pissy when he gets ignored, Alastor wants to be important to Charlie for reasons yet to be disclosed, and he's willing to charm her in any way he can to make her trust him above others. He keeps his cards close to his chest, but he has been a real help to her, making his possessiveness and manipulation more disturbing.

Charlie is, as of now, in an in-between state where she still doesn't fully trust Alastor but she is growing fond of him and perhaps sees him as an odd friend of sorts - look at her wide grin when he comes back in the finale and she hugs him! She is not stupid, but she does see the good in everyone, and Alastor is no exception.

Alastor might also be eager to use the power of the Princess of Hell for his own purposes... namely, gaining back his full freedom. He might actually need her, perhaps even more than she, as of now, needs him.

In a general sense, both of them might be corrupting each other. Alastor is inherently a corrupting force in a Faustian way, manipulating others to gain more and more power, and so far he seems to be succeeding in getting Charlie to his side by playing the part of the helpful, resourceful hotelier. But Charlie is also an extremely positive force, and as I said before, Alastor seems to like her a little in his own cryptic way. I doubt that this would be enough to "redeem" Alastor... but it would be interesting to see him fight with himself against his newfound affection :)

(bonus: really curious to see where Husk would fit into all of this. I doubt he'd be happy to know that Charlie made a deal with his owner...)

[tastefulsimp]

A Quiet Evening

I’ve never written anything like this before, but I needed some writing practice, and I cannot get Hazbin Hotel out of my head. I wanted to explore his complexity and write something that aligned with his character, our oh-so-scary-and-charming peepaw.

I’ve heard that some ace folks have an interest in reading romance and spice as a way to access certain emotions. I relish the idea of Alastor enjoying a romance novel from time to time. (and yes, the quotes from the book are really in the book) female reader | not spicy | tension

— Prologue

In life, Alastor always loved a good book. John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and H.P. Lovecraft were among his favorites. But, the radio demon had a soft spot for a the author Elinor Glyn. While he was out running some errands this morning, he spotted a copy of "It" and Other Stories in the window of a book shop.

It had been so long since he enjoyed a good book. Most of the hotel crew would be out with the provocative one and his explosive friend tonight anyway. A quiet evening accompanied by a good book did sound quite lovely.

Once he finished his hotelier duties, he asked poured himself a glass of Sazerac, tuned the lobby radio to some jazz and swing at a low volume, and settled into the sofa.

He forgot how much he enjoyed a good read. In fact, the film adaptation of “It” was one of the only films he had seen while he was alive. Mimzy dragged him along to a showing one evening. In truth, he never cared much for the medium, but the story was entertaining at least. And, anything is enjoyable in good company.

“I should lend this to Rosie” he thought as he crept through pages of the novel, “she would enjoy this character’s— what does she call it? Ah, yes.. moxie.”

— Part 1

Emerging from your bedroom, you’re confused to find silence in the hotel. Your lively group of sinners must have left for the club already. Feeling a bit relieved, that you’re no longer required to socialize, you make for your bedroom once again. The faintest sound of music hits your ears just before you cross the doorway.

When you became a guest after the last Extermination Day, no one knew what to expect. Charlie was elated to have two fresh faces join the crew. But, after your counterpart bailed in the first week, you were the only remaining new guest.

As you approach the end of the hallway, the sound of swing music is grows louder with each step. Quietly descending the stairs into the lobby, you’re surprised to see Alastor relaxing on the sofa, reading a book in the dimly lit room.

You couldn’t help but be curious about Alastor. You knew the stories of the Radio Demon, and you saw the broadcast of their fight with Heaven. He was scary, sinister, and powerful… yet he had been nothing but kind to you so far.

Quietly approaching the lobby sofa, Alastor doesn’t seem to notice your presence. You peek over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what title has him so invested. Your eyes catch on the sentence: “John was aware of the sex magnetism in her. He instantly wanted to kiss those cherry lips…”

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized, Alastor was reading romance..? There’s no way. Peeking again, you scan the page, your eyes landing on the words “analyzed, dissected, and stripped her.”

Yep. That’s a romance novel.

Alastor cleared his throat and stretched his collar just a bit. You watched, bewildered as he turned his head toward you with a smirk. “You’re not a very good spy, you know” Alastor quipped.

“I’m sorry,” You replied sheepishly. “I didn’t realize anyone else was still here.”

“I thought the very same.” He said, eyes returning to his book. You crossed over to the arm chair across from him and took a seat.

“Not up for a night on the town, my dear?” he said casually, glancing at you over the top of his book. He had traded his monocle for a pair of reading glasses, he was wearing a tied red silk house coat over his white button up, and some loafers. He looked so relaxed, you thought.

“Not really my thing, honestly.” you say, your eyes never meeting his, “It’s loud, it smells, and I can get a better buzz here anyway.” He lowers the book slightly to reveal his signature smile.

“Hm. I often wonder how you ended up down here, Miss ___,” Alastor jokes. You laugh, “My ticket to hell may have been coated in blood, but those petty sins have never been my style,” you reply smirking at him.

“What are you reading?” you ask, crossing one leg over the other in your seat. His eyes trace over your outstretched leg, before meeting yours once again. “Elinor Glyn. A novel called, It” he replied in a dry tone.

“What’s it about?” you asked, thumbing through the redemption lesson plans that were strewn across the end table next to you. His eye twitches. He let out a big sigh, “I was rather enjoying my solitude.” He shifts in his seat a bit.

“Is that all you were enjoying, Alastor?” you teased.

“I suppose I was enjoying the music as well, my dear” he replied, meeting your eyes over the top of his book once again.

“Oh, yes it’s lovely. But, I figured you were enjoying her cherry lips, or maybe her… sex magnetism.” You smirked at him. Annoyance washed over Alastor’s face as his eyes shifted back to his book, and closing it sharply.

“Ah, so you were spying on me.” He places the book down on the couch and rises to his feet. He grabs his glass of Sazerac and slowly starting toward you, static rising in his voice. “Perhaps it’s time you learn your place, Miss ___”

Panic floods your body as the Radio Demon approaches you, static in the air growing stronger. His pupils turn into black dials and he emits a glowing green aura. He could kill you right now.

You uncross your legs, and shift nervously, backing up slightly into your chair as he steps closer, and closer. Despite your fear, a depraved thought crossed your mind. This was kind of hot. NO! It’s not the time for that.

His faces is inches away from yours now, you can feel his breathing, and he can certainly feel your hitched breaths, but you never break the gaze you both hold. Within a millisecond its over. His eyes return to their normal round saucers, and the static dissipates from the air. “Do you understand, my dear?” he asks in a low voice.

His eyes stay locked on yours as he speaks, making your body tense. Are you seriously turned on by this situation?? This close to him, you realize he’s wearing a woody, citrus scent, and it smells incredible. You feel your face begin to grow hot, as a blush reaches your cheeks.

“Yes, sir.” you respond feigning innocence, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Good girl.” he pats your head then turns around to grab his book. “That was a lovely chat, Miss ____.” he says turning slightly to smirk at you, “sleep well.”

Another depraved thought crossed your mind, and this time you headed straight for the bar.