writingisart-yes

[writingisart-yes]

Game 9: Unwritten Secrets

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

She was really getting on my nerves. It was like she was a ghost. I never saw her anymore. Just fleeting glimpses—chatting with Charlie, nursing a drink at the bar—then gone. A blink, a shift in the crowd, and she’d vanish.

But this time, I would catch her. Instead of following my usual schedule were I’d get a coffee in the morning, I stood in front of her door. I knew she was in there. Trapped. She’d have to come out eventually.

My ears perked up at the sound of her bedroom door. The moment her eyes met mine, she moved—too fast, too desperate—slamming the door. I didn’t allow it, my foot stopping it.

“Ah, ah, ah. None of that my dear. We have a long overdue conversation, don’t we?”

Y/n POV

The second I saw him, I felt my stomach drop. Fuck. I was not ready for this confrontation. Alastor. Standing there, waiting, like a hunter with all the time in the world.

I moved without thinking, slamming the door. But it didn’t shut. A sharp pressure held it open. His foot.

Damn it

I suppose it would be better to actually talk to him rather than think about him all day. This obsession really was no good.

Slowly, I eased the door open just enough to meet his gaze. A mistake.

His grin was all sharp teeth and amusement, eyes glinting like he was savoring every second of my discomfort.

“Oh darling~” He purred. “I hope you aren’t planning to run away from me again. It gets oh so boring without you.”

I forced a smirk, even as my pulse pounded in my ears. “Funny. I thought you liked a challenge.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he pushed the door open a little wider, stepping just close enough to invade my space.

“It’s no fun when someone decides to break our rules and touch something so personal. At least take some responsiblity, dear.”

I swallowed down the instinct to flinch. Rules. Right. The little unspoken treaty we had—one that I had ever-so-graciously trampled all over. I had tried to forget, but the thought of Alastor’s retribution kept me up for multiple nights.

He took another step forward, and I instinctively backed up. The door creaked as it opened wider, as if the damn thing knew who was really in charge here.

“After all, you found something you never should have.” His voice lowered in pitch. Intimidating bastard.

You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “Just a bit of mischief.”

His grin widened, sharp and knowing. “Then I suppose you won’t mind me having a bit of my own.”

Then suddenly, he was past me and at my desk. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Alastor!”

“You had your fun, it’s only fair I have mine.” He practically cooed, holding up my journal.

My breath hitched. Oh no.

“Put that down.” My voice came out steadier than I felt, but he knew. Of course he knew.

His grin stretched wider, fingers tapping idly against the cover. “Now, now, that’s hardly fair. I believe in equal exchange. You poke your nose where it doesn’t belong…” He flipped the journal open, humming thoughtfully. “…and I do the same.”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I moved before I could think, crossing the space in two steps, but Alastor was quicker. He twisted just out of reach, holding the journal high like a taunt.

“Ah-ah~” he sang. “What’s got you so riled up, dear? Surely there’s nothing too scandalous in here.” His gaze flickered back to the pages. Then he stilled.

For one second everything seemed too quiet. I could feel my heart leaping out of my chest, and hear nothing but the roaring of my blood.

His eyes darted across the page. I swore I saw his fingers tighten just slightly around the cover.

I wanted to snatch it from him. To burn it if I had to. I would burn it if I got it back. And never ever write in a journal again.

“Alastor.” My voice was sharper this time, barely covering my panic. “Give it back.”

Then, slow and deliberate, he closed the journal. He didn’t hand it over. Didn’t move.

“Well,” he murmured, tilting his head, “isn’t that interesting?”

I felt my stomach drop.

Alastor tapped the journal against his palm, thoughtful. “You know, dear, most people don’t leave their deepest, darkest thoughts lying around for nosy little intruders like me to find.” His eyes glinted. “It’s almost as if you wanted me to read it.”

“Bullshit.”

His grin widened. “Language, darling.”

I clenched my jaw. “Give. It. Back.”

He chuckled, flipping the journal open again—just to my page. The page he’d lingered on.

His eyes skimmed over the words, and his smile… shifted. Still sharp, still smug, but something else flickered there. Interest? Amusement? Am I imagining it?

Then—he reads aloud.

"I don’t know what’s worse—that he won’t leave my head, or that I don’t want him to."

I stopped breathing.

He glanced up, gaze locking onto mine like a predator savoring its meal. "Oh?" His voice dripped with mirth, but there was something underneath it. Something dangerous.

"Alastor—"

But he wasn’t done. He turned another page. I lunged for the book, but he moved away effortlessly, eyes flicking between my thoughts.

"Ah, here’s a good one~ 'He’s insufferable. Arrogant. A nightmare. And yet, if he so much as looks at me—'" He let out a delighted laugh. "My, my, Y/n, this is positively scandalous!"

I was going to die.

I surged forward again, barely missing as he turned away. He’s playing with me. Of course he is.

But then—he stops.

A page catches his eye. He doesn’t read it aloud this time. He just stares.

I see it—just a flicker—his grin falters. His fingers tighten on the cover. Something about that page is different.

And that’s when I know.

He found the real secret.

The air shifts. He isn’t grinning fully anymore. His fingers press into the cover of the journal, but he doesn’t flip the page. He just stares.

There were only a small number of things he could be looking at to entice such a response. I knew which one fron the ugly, scratched words marring the paper.

“His smile is too sharp. His voice, too smooth. He plays with people like they’re nothing but threads to weave into his own design. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t flinch. But every time I hear that voice, I’m six years old again, too small to fight back. Too small to matter. They’re the fucking same.”

A silence too thick to breathe in settles between us.

“Give it back.” I practically growl out. THAT was too far.

He doesn’t. He closes the journal slowly, no longer teasing, no longer playful. His eyes are still on me, but the usual gleam in them has dulled, replaced by something… more careful.

Then, in a voice far too light for the weight behind it, he murmurs, “Now, that is interesting.”

I swallow. “It’s nothing.”

His head tilts, ever so slightly. “Nothing?” He hums softly, a little amused but with an edge I can’t place. “Are you sure about that, dear?”

I want to claw the journal from his hands. Burn it. Pretend he never saw those words.

I don’t answer, my gaze fixed on the floor. I can’t look him in the eyes now. I don’t want to.

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, softer than usual, like he’s trying to unravel something in me that I don’t want him to see. “You think I’m like him?”

I don’t move. My breath catches in my throat.

His fingers are suddenly on my chin, gently lifting it, forcing me to meet his eyes. He’s searching for an answer that’s not just on the page.

“I asked you a question, dear.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel his gaze—sharp, probing—waiting for me to say something. But the words get stuck, lodged in my throat, tangled with everything I’ve buried for so long.

I don't want to look at him, but I can't seem to look away. The feel of his fingers under my chin is oddly grounding, like he's anchoring me to this moment, and I don't know how to escape it.

“I—” My voice cracks, and I hate how vulnerable it sounds. I can’t let him see me like this. “I don’t think you’re like him.”

It’s not a lie. Not really. But it's also not the full truth. It’s the truth I want to believe. The truth that’s easier to face.

Alastor’s fingers linger a second longer, just long enough to make my skin burn, before he lets go. He doesn’t move away, though. He stays right there, close enough for me to feel the heat from his body, but he keeps that damn smirk on his face.

“Really?” His voice is low, intrigued. “You’re not so sure about that, are you?”

“I don’t care what you think,” I finally snap, though the words feel weak even as they leave my mouth. “I just want the journal back.”

Alastor tilts his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Oh, but I think I’m beginning to understand you a little better, dear.”

His smile widens slightly, but it’s not as sharp as before. There’s something more... thoughtful behind it now. He’s no longer just the devilish flirt.

“Maybe you don’t want me to be like him,” Alastor muses, his voice soft but carrying a weight that’s almost too heavy to bear. “But maybe, in some strange way, you’re scared I might be.”

I turn my face away, unable to meet his eyes now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His laugh is quieter this time, no mockery in it, just a quiet understanding. “I think I do.”

He finally steps back, holding the journal just out of my reach, but his gaze lingers on me with an intensity I’m not used to. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, but it doesn’t feel like the teasing games he used to play.

For a moment, he’s silent. Then, as if he’s finally decided something, he hands me the journal. No games. No taunts. Just… the journal.

There’s something else in his eyes now. Something real.

And I don’t know how to handle it.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #8 - Mallomars

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

I had so much fun writing this! For reference 78s are discs that were used in the late 1900s for music and recording and shit. Happy reading!

I was almost getting worried that our last encounter had left my little plaything without her wits. Y/n had seemed quite flustered, but I should have known she was scheming. This was utterly delightful. I didn’t think she was capable of something this interesting.

I was alone in my radio tower, planning out my next broadcast. I couldn’t just leave the adoring public waiting, now could I? Radio was the one thing I allowed myself to immerse in other than murder. The static hum of my equipment filled the room—a familiar sound, almost comforting.

And then, cutting through it like a blade, came a voice.

A transatlantic accent, crisp yet marred by radio static. My voice.

I stilled.

It was impossible, really. I wouldn’t have ever said something so absurd during any phase of my life. So that left the question—how exactly did that random sinner pull this off?

I was sure it was her. I mean who else would make it say: “Good evening, dear listeners! It’s your one and only Alastor—the charming, cunning, and ever-so-handsome Radio Demon! But wait! What’s this? A mere sinner has outwitted me? Impossible! Unheard of! Why, I might just die of embarrassment all over again!"

It’s laughable really. But I wonder—was this mere mischief, or is she trying to play my game? If so… I might just let her.

A knock at the door inturrupts my thoughts. Snapping my notebook of radio ideas shut, I headed towards the door. Angel Dust.

“I am terribly busy, dear boy. Don’t you have some… less important soul to bother?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, Al, but Charlie was askin’ if you’re gonna be around for the movie night tomorrow?” Angel stammers. The nervousness isn’t as obvious as he thinks, but I know better. Everyone has their tell.

If I remember correctly, Angel was Y/n’s chosen accomplice. I grin. “Tell Charlie I don’t think I can make it.” I move to slam the door in his face, but he puts his foot out to stop it from closing.

“Wait! Y/n’s makin’ the snacks with Nifty!”

“I don’t see why that matters.” I glare at him, irritation bubbling up. “And I’d like to be left to my peace.”

“I thought you loved her Marshmellow-Chocolate-Smore thingy?”

“They’re Mellomars, an exquisite childhood snack. I’ll be able to sneak them away afterward.”

“What if there’s no leftovers?” He dares to sound smug now, knowing full well it’s one of my favorites.

God, he’s getting on my nerves. Was he here just to distract me? What exactly were they up to?

I abruptly turn around and slam the door with force, leaving no room for further conversation.

I scoff. That pathetic girl wouldn’t be able to do much to me anyways. No matter how intriguing that last trick was.

I stroll back to my desk and pause. Something’s off. I didn’t leave my notebook there, and—is that… perfume? I lean in closer to the pages, and sure enough, the familiar, cloying scent clings to the paper.

This blasted girl.

I flick open the pages, scanning for any sign of change. At first, I think it’s nothing—until I see it. Ink smudges give it away: the broadcast I was planning had been torn out. In its place, a jumbled, reworked version of my own words, with cross-outs and rewordings that twist the meaning into something entirely unfamiliar.

But it’s the final lines that catch my attention. Red ink, not my own.

“I wonder how much I could change before you noticed? I mean, if I really tried, you know.”

Her handwriting—messy, slanted, too free for my tastes. I run a finger over it, the ink staining my skin.

I inhale, the faint scent of her perfume lingering on my fingertips.

Ink. And here I was expecting her treats. I suppose it’s her way of apology if I deem it too far.

But no… it’s too much. Too close. Too intimate. My personal space has been invaded, my own voice turned against me, my words twisted. The very things I control, my radio, my broadcast, now tainted by her messy, defiant hand.

But I feel like letting go of the breach of our truce.

I laugh—but it’s quieter this time, almost hesitant, like I’m savoring the unease creeping up on me. It’s an eerie feeling, and yet, I can’t deny it’s… exhilarating.

.

I found Mellomars outside my door when I was about to head down for movie night a few days later. I wasn’t missing my chance to taste those wonderful treats and my dear Y/n had saved me a trip. I picked up the box and carried it back into my room.

Upon opening it, my curiousity was peaked.

A 78 (shellac disc) laid nestled in between the smore cookies. I picked it up gingerly. There was a tag in the middle of the disc. A date. My smile broadened. January 1st. My birthday. The year however indicated that I was about 20 at the time.

Perhaps Y/n finally realized what she’d done and decided to make up for it in hopes I didn’t claim my prize for her violation of the treaty.

I went over to the record player and started the track. 78 rows per minute. I went back to get my snack after adjusting it. I almost dropped my Mellomar when hearing the voice that wafted through the room.

I set the Mellomar down carefully, feeling the warmth of its chocolate coating against my fingers as I moved to investigate the source of the unexpected sound. The voice that wafted through the room was—unmistakably—mine.

At first, it was soft, almost nostalgic, a voice from another time. The voice on the 78 shellac disc was smooth, charming, youthful. My voice, but different. It held a certain vulnerability that had long been buried beneath the polished layers of my current persona.

I sat in front of it, listening.

“Good evening, dear listeners,” it began, the words slipping from the old record in the same beginner style I had once used to amateurly captivate a crowd before I got employed. “It’s your one and only Alastor!”

I was playing pretend. As if I was some child, then one day pretend became real and I was a radio star.

I rambled about random things, the news, stories from my school life, innocent things like that. It was childish, unpolished, unsophisticated. Nothing like the voice I had now, commanding and eternal.

I emptied the box of treats as I listened, trying to distract myself. The sweet comfort of the Mellomars was a welcome reprieve from the unease creeping under my skin, but it didn’t last long. As I reached for another one, my fingers met something unexpected.

Cardboard. And paper?

“Your voice is nothing but an echo now. Do you miss the original sound?" It read.

I laughed. If she thought something so sentimental would make me feel an ounce of guilt or remorse she was absolutely wrong.

But how- How did she get this?

How in all of Hell had she managed to get her hands on something so human, so vulnerable? The memories it triggered—those fragments of a time I’d carefully buried, along with the youthful innocence I’d long discarded—set my teeth on edge.

She heard it. I’m sure. Every thought I laid bare thinking no one would bother to look for something this trivial. She knew things no one else could.

That was dangerous.

I paced around the bayou that enveloped my room. I began to laugh softly. It was maddening. The way she stole something so personal. She wasn’t just playing at being clever—she was dissecting me, pulling apart the layers of who I was. I should have been angry, should have been furious, but...

Curiosity.

Curiousity gnawed at me like a hunger I couldn’t ignore. How far would she go? How deep did her grasp on me really run?

I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t let go. Not until I had answers.

And when I did find them, when I figured out just how much she knew, how much she understood... That would be the most delicious twist of all.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #7 - Not Blushing, You Are

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

Brief spicy scene, but nothing too bad.

I say it over and over again, my new personal mantra. It was just a dream. I whisper it under my breath with every step I take. I shut up as I get closer to the dining room, the words taking place in my thoughts instead. Can’t have them thinking I’m insane can I? Oh Fuck it. It’s hell everyone’s insane.

I felt off today. It might just be my hangover, but I couldn’t shake this feeling. I paused in the doorway. Alastor. He’s not doing anything special, just sipping his morning coffee while talking to Charlie about what I presume to be hotel plans.

But damn, he’s infuriatingly beautiful. Was he always this pretty? I choose to forget about the event, asking Alastor would only give him leverage. He’d probably say something irritating like "Dreaming about me, darling? How scandelous?” or some other pompous shit.

I slid into my usual seat next Angel. “Hey.” I greeted him, tearing my eyes away from Alastor before he noticed.

Angel looks at me weirdly. “You don’t look so good. Was it the achohol?” I shrug in response. Honestly, I was drained. I didn’t really feel like talking or listening or anything at the moment.

“Back to square one huh? Ice for miles.” He teases and spreads his arms out to emphasize the “miles” part. “And to think we got somewhere"

I chucked. “Nothing like that, I’m just tired and hungover.”

"Hungover? Yeah, maybe. But you look like somethin’ else is eatin’ at ya."

My gaze flits to Alastor to see if he’s listening before returning to the plate in front of me. “I’m fine, just a bit troubled about the prank war.”

It wasn’t a total lie. The prank war was between Alastor and me, and I had trouble with Alastor so same thing. I felt bad lying to Angel. That’s the problem with me I get so attatched and after last night, I wanted to tell him everything.

“Yeah, alright. I won’t push.” He smiles, and offers me one of the pastries on his plate. Even though it’s hard for me to down food in the morning, I take it.

My gaze kept landing on Alastor throughout breakfast. I couldn’t help but notice the sharpness of his smile. I don’t remember the edges being that pointy.

Even though it’s probably just a dream, I want to make sure. I want to make sure it’s all in my head. I need to find proof.

I break out of my daze when I hear my name fall from Angel’s mouth. “Hmm?” I ask turning my attention back to him.

“I asked you if you want some coffee. I was about to go get some for myself. You know, work day today.” Angel asks giving me a knowing look.

“I’m good, and it’s not like that.” I huffed.

“I didn’t say nothing!” He laughs.

As Angel leaves to grab his coffee, I shift my gaze back to my plate, trying to shake the gnawing feeling in my chest. The room hums with chatter and clinking silverware, but it all dulls when I hear his voice.

“Lost in thought, dear?”

I almost jump out of my seat at the sound. He must’ve finished his conversation with Charlie. His voice slips through the air—like honey laced with something sharp. I glance up, and he’s already watching me with amusment.

“Something like that” I don’t bother forcing a smile and instead glare at him. He doesn’t have to know he’s consuming my every thought right now.

His grin widens, just slightly. “I do hope you’re not letting our little games keep you up at night.”

His words are harmless, but they send a chill down my spine. I swallow thickly. “Not at all.”

Alastor hums, tilting his head, and for a second—just a second—the shadows around him seem darker. But when I blink, everything looks normal again.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” he asks, mock concern dripping from his tone.

“Absolutely not” I shut down his question with narrowed eyes. “You are the last person I’d spill my heart to.”

I get up from my seat and walk away. “It’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation~” His voice follows me as I walk out the dining room. Fuck him.

I’m sitting on my bed, headphones on, crouched over my laptop. I was emailing the advertisement I just made to my latest client. I had to make ends meet and freelancing was easy enough if you had tech skills so that’s what I did.

I stretch, take my headphones off, and shove the computer off my lap. I fall backwards onto the plush pillows and cushions with a huff. I love my bed.

I exhale as my body sinks into the mattress. My body feels heavy and the sheets are cool against my skin. My eyes flutter to a close.

Then, a change. I feel warmth. A scent lingers in the air—rich, intoxicating, familiar. My breath hitches. It’s not my sheets that I’m sinking into.

A whisper, low and smooth, curls around my ear.

“Did you miss me, darling?”

My stomach twists, heat blooming under my skin before I even open my eyes. I’d know his voice anywhere. Alastor.

I feel him before I see him—his presence, the electricity in the air, the ghost of fingers tracing down my arm. My heart pounds. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

But when I open my eyes, he’s there. And he looks ravenous.

I’m straddling him and I have no idea how we got here, but I want him. Then—soft fingers graze my skin, tracing up my arm. My pulse stutters.

Alastor leans in as if he’s about kiss me, but stops. We’re so close I can feel his breath on my face. I feel my body react before my mind catches up. A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, darling…”

His hands trace up my sides, slow and deliberate, setting my skin ablaze. My breath catches, but he doesn’t rush. He wants to hear it—to feel how easily he unravels me. His voice is silk and sin when he speaks.

“You want me to stop?”

It’s not a real question. And we both know the answer.

“No.”

And just like that we become a tangle of arms and legs. He’s on top of me, pinning my wrists to the bed. His grip tightens, and before I can think, fabric is slipping away, heat pressing into heat—

My eyes fly open, my chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. For a second, I swear I can still feel his touch. The room is dark, silent—too real. Fuck.

What is wrong with me? This is the second time I’ve dreamed of him, and I’m wet because of it this time. I make my way to the bathroom and splash water on my face.

I stare into my reflection. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask out loud. God, I really am insane. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes.

An idea emerged. I would just prank him. Get back to the war, do something to pay him back. I smirked. Yeah, that works. I’ll get myself stuck in his head like he is in mine. I have a lot of work to do.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #6-Fever Dream

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

Alastor's POV! Omg, this was my first time writing in his POV so he might be ooc or something, but I tried. I'm super excited for this one.

After Mimzy left and Alastor ate some loan sharks, I found myself at the bar. Husk and I didn’t talk about what happened earlier and I don’t think either of us wanted to. Angel joined me eventually with an enthusiactic yell of “Let’s drink our tragic hearts out!”

At least that got a laugh out of me. I don’t know how it happened but I started spilling everything to him. All about how my father kept my mother at home all the time like a trophy and how he would intentially start conflicts just to see my mother lose her shit. I told him about how he would be sweet in the intervals so she wouldn’t leave him and about how Alastor was giving me extreme deja vu in those cases.

“How much alchohol did you drink?” Angel asked incredously after I was done. “You never share nothing about yourself.”

I shrugged not exactly sure myself. “You wanna talk?” I asked, knowing damn well everyone here had a shitty time. I swirled the liquid in my cup.

He told me about Valentino and how stupid he was for accepting that sort of deal and how tired he was of all the sex. He told me about how Fat Nuggets, his pig, was the only comfort he had anymore.

“Guess we’re both a little drunk” I answered his previous comment as he finished venting. A ghost of a smile graced my lips.

I think out of all the hotel residents, I definitely liked Angel the most. We bid each other goodbye and I staggered upstairs to my room. I didn’t make it, stopping halfway there and leaning against the wall for support as I fought the nausea.

There was a reason I never drank alcholol. Years of avoiding it just gave me an intolerance for it. I pressed a hand to my head, the edges of my vision blurring.

I shouldn’t have drank so much.

I found myself crumpling to the ground as two red and black shoes entered my vision. “Alastor?”

“My, my, what a mess you’ve made of yourself! And here I thought you had some dignity.” His radio voice rang out, doing nothing to ease my headache. God, was his voice always this disorienting?

It felt like the floor was spinning beneath me. Suddenly, I found myself in Alastor’s arms, my stomach doing flips as he carried me like a sack of potatoes.

“Can you-” I gasped. I’m going to throw up. “Can you be more gentle?” I gritted out, trying not to spill my guts on his pristine suit. He shifts a little so he’s holding my bridal style instead, and suddenly I wished I threw up on him.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but he looked beautiful. Those half-lidded crimson eyes, and those fluffy ears stole my heart. I bet I was looking up at him like an absolute idiot with my mouth hung open. I might even have been drooling.

His smile on the other hand, infuriated me. Why the fuck is he deriving pleasure and amusement from my ailing state? Why is he holding me? I don’t understand. I can’t think.

He opened a door and I found myself staring at a swamp. Alastor’s room. I remember it from throwing cotton everywhere. I could still see some bits and pieces of white stuck in the trees.

The change in atmostphere had me dizzy.

He sat me down on the bed. Gently. I stared at him. What in the actual fuck was going on here?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! You should be grateful—who else would bother hauling your sorry self up here?”

His voice came floating to me. My eyes widened as a realized the absence of radio static. I think I might still be crumpled in the hallway, just having a fever dream of some kind, because there’s no way THE radio demon let me hear his real voice.

I found myself drifting off to sleep to the sound of Alastor’s ramblings. I couldn’t understand a thing he said, but his voice was enough to soothe me. Pure, and unfiltered. Even if it was just a dream, I enjoyed it.

Alastor’s POV

When I found the poor soul slumped in the hallway, barely able to stand, I had a decision to make. I could leave her there, let her wallow in her misery… but that would be far too dull.

Why leave her there when I could drag her back with me and have a little fun? She’s pissed me off too many times to count. And yet she’s still alive. She knows things she shouldn’t. I’ll kill her eventually. But where’s the fun in that? A cat always plays with its food first.

There’s nothing more delightful than the sight of suffering. The dried tears on her face only made it sweeter. I grinned down at her as I held her in my arms.

Oh! Look at that! She’s gazing at me so sweetly. It’s almost as if she’s in love. Poor thing.

After placing her down on the bed I couldn’t help the comment. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! You should be grateful—who else would bother hauling your sorry self up here?”

It was only when I saw her widened eyes that I realized I hadn’t imbued my usual radio static.

When she reacted like that I found I didn’t mind. In fact I dropped my radio static for the rest of the night. She fell asleep so easily to the sound.

Humans are such simple creatures. So easy to break, so easy to amuse.

As morning neared, I picked her up once again and headed for her room.

Nothing like making her question reality while I revel in the satisfaction of control.

MC POV

The morning light splintered my sleep. I found myself sitting up in bed with a pounding headache and bits and pieces of memories I wasn’t even sure actually happened. I mean—come on—Alastor carrying me? Letting me hear his real voice? Impossible. Delirium. A fever dream at best.

And yet... I still hear that voice, smooth and unfiltered, curling around my thoughts like a lullaby I was never meant to hear.

And yet… the warmth lingers. My head against his chest, his arm hooked under my knees, the other resting on the small of my back. My skin still tingles at the memory.

NO! Shut up! He’s not yours, will never be yours, and is not meant to be yours.

Instead of dwelling on whatever that was, I head to the mirror to see if I had any remneants of Alastor’s swamp on me. And I found… Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

My clothes were slightly wrinkled and I smelled like alcohol, but there wasn’t anything that would point to Alastor.

I glared at my reflection. I’m not that unstable, right? There’s no way I would fall so damn hard for some toxic motherfucker to the point I dream-

Fall. When did love become part of this? When did I start believing in something so stupid again?

I let out a frustrated groan and stormed my way to the shower. I pause in front of the sink. A sound. Soft, distant. Laughter.

My breath catches. No, no. That’s—That’s not real. Can’t be real. I was shaking my head now. There is no fucking way that was real. No fucking way he’s watching. Because if he is- if that was- then I’m already losing

Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop. Thinking.

I hit my forehead with a closed fist, willing the thoughts to shut up. I hop into the shower, get done with it quickly and before I know it my feet are taking me downstairs to where I know Alastor will be.

After all, he always drinks coffee in the morning. To think it started with that.

I'm hyper now. Who's going to take responsibility for me bouncing off the walls. Huh Alastor? This is all your fault.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #5: Lucifer’s Easy, Alastor’s Impossible

Shitty week=Angst

If I have to suffer through shit, then my protagonist can suffer through worse shit to make me feel simultaneously better and worse. The beginning is pretty chill though.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 3.5 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Game 8 Game 9

I hate Alastor. All because of that stupid trust fall shit, I can't even prank him properly anymore. Every time I try to think of something I go back to that moment and I can't even prank him anymore. Ugh! Why is it affecting me so much in the first place? He's just some stupid, random ass man. Stupid, random man with an attractive ass-

I don't want to think of him anymore!

On other news, Lucifer Morningstar is visiting the hotel. I don’t know how it happened, but we ended up in a sort of rizz war back when I first met him.

I remember initiating it because I found him hot. Then I found out he had a wife. Sure, their relationship had been on pause for seven years, but still. Any sexual feelings I had? Buried six feet under. The rizz war, however, persisted as a platonic way to be mess with each other. We had obvious boundaries and we held them.

When I heard Charlie’s father was coming over, I was ecstatic. I needed a win, and winning against Alastor was hard, but Lucifer. Lucifer was easy. He was a fucking cinnamonroll. He was little awkwardness, a lot of kindness, and just a sprinkle of apprehension. In other words, easy prey.

I helped Charlie and the other residents clean and decorate the hotel with a vigor that was usually unseen from me in Hotel activities. I was having an adrenaline rush just thinking about the ways I could fluster him.

“Wow! You’re really efficient when you wanna be.” Charlie exclaimed as she processed the now clean foyer that was a mess 20 minutes ago. I smiled at her, but before I could answer, Charlie was already rushing to the door.

Yes! It’s time to torment the devil himself.

“Chaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaimed enveloping the poor girl into a bone crushing hug. I noticed Alastor standing right behind them, his left eye twitching. Not in amusement—no, his usual grin was just a little too tight, his posture stiff, like he was biting back a comment. Huh. Weird.

Whatever. Alastor’s weird mood isn’t my problem today.

Once Charlie escapes the hug, she throws her arms out and declares, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” with such flair, I half-wonder if she’s been taking lessons from Alastor.

Lucifer greets the pets first, Keke, Razzle, and Dazzle, but when he sets his eyes on the bar, I decide it’s time I get his attention. “OH! What in the unholy hell is that?!” Lucifer recoils in disgust. Is everyone in Hell this much of a Drama Queen?

“Tsk, tsk, Lucifer. I expected more from the King of Hell. Afraid of a little… ambiance?” I stepped in front of him, tilting my head with a grin. “I mean, I get it—the skulls, the antlers, the soul velvet? Very intimidating.” I nodded as if convincing myself. “But don’t worry, babe.” I slung an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll protect you.” I flashed a toothy grin, one that practically screamed I’ll eat you for dinner.

I guess I’m a drama queen too. Maybe I should stop hanging out with Alastor so much.

Y-Y/n,” Lucifer stammered, but there was a flicker of something else beneath his flustered expression—something amused, intrigued even. His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary before he shook his head, like snapping himself out of it.

Regaining some composure once he realized it was me Lucifer hit back. “I didn’t know you were this desperate for my attention,” he mused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “This is cute. I feel like an older sibling indulging their little sister’s antics.”

Before I could fire back, Charlie cut in, voice edged with unease. “Do you guys know each other?” Charlie asked, her voice edged with unease. She looked between us like she was connecting dots that didn’t exist.

The thought alone sent me hurling down a cliff of laughter. I had to grip the bar counter just to stay upright. “Charlie—Gods, no—” I wheezed. “Your reactions are gold!”

Lucifer was obviously flustered as he quickly shut her assumption down. “No! No! Nothing like that!” He was waving his arms frantically. “If I entertained this kind of thing, Lilith would have me sleeping on a bed of nails.”

Then, Alastor suddenly stepped forward, his presence swallowing the space between me and Lucifer before I could get another word in. His grin was still wide, still sharp, but his eyes? They weren’t on Lucifer anymore. They were on me.

I found my breath hitching. I want to take him to bed so bad. Is my rut season getting closer or something? I feel like a horny teenager.

“Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit of color, don't you think?” Alastor asked, radio static mingling with his words. His voice felt sharper than usual.

”And you are?” Lucifer asked dryly.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” Alastor shakes Lucifers hand and wipes his own on his tailored suit. How do I know it’s tailored? Oh yeah, I’ve been fucking him with my eyes since the trust exercise. “It's nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

The audacity. Even I don’t comment on Lucifer’s height. I just use it to my advantage when rizzing him up.

“Who is this? Who is this now? Are you the bellhop?” Lucifer laughed.

“Haha! No! I am the host of the hotel. You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast.”

“Hmm. Nope! I guess that's why Charlie called it the Has-been Hotel! Hahaha.”

“Ha ha ha! It was actually my idea.”

“Ha ha ha! Well, it's not very clever!”

“Ha ha! Fuck you.”

Oh shit. By now they were so close I thought they were going to kiss. And Alastor cussing? Well damn. Not even I get that. I applaud you Lucifer.

Charlie stepped in, although I might have preferred to watch them fight and fuck. ”Okay, anyway. Dad, look at this lovely parlor where people can get to know each other and share secrets and stories and intimate feelings! Without Alastor, we wouldn't have been able to pretty it up this much.”

I tuned the rest of it out and headed to Angel. “I can’t believe Alastor cussed.” I whispered.

“It was a surprise, but I think he did it for you, don’t ya?” Angel wiggled his brows.

I shot him a look. “Me? The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Angel grinned. “Oh, sweetheart. You really don’t see it?” He glanced over at Alastor, who had positioned himself at the bar, back turned, radio static barely humming. “He was steamin’ when you flirted with Lucifer.”

I thought Alastor snapped his neck with how fast he turned to send Angel a glare. Huh. Well that’s interesting.

I snorted and lowered my voice. “Alastor? Please. He doesn’t care about that stuff.”

Angel just gave me a knowing look. “Mmm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

I scoffed. “Well even if he does I don’t feel that way about him. I just think about him far more than I would like.” Angel raised a brow. “Shut up.” I grumbled. “Maybe I want to fuck him, but that’s where it ends.”

“Well if you fuck him, then I don’t think you’re going to be able to fuck anyone else again.” He snorts. It was true. The sentence made my heart beat.

It didn’t feel wonderous like when I was risking my life or health. It wasn’t the good type of adrenaline. It was more like that feeling when you know you’re going to lose something. I don’t think I could stay away from Alastor. Maybe for now, but never forever.

I found myself spiraling. I kept thinking about it. Glaring at the floor. If Alastor truly wants me, would I ever have a chance at escaping? I know I could never settle down. Love doesn’t exist. It gets boring after having sex a couple of times.

Maybe Angel’s reading it wrong. I’m giving myself too much credit. I am hardly a drug. There are so many other women that would satisfy him better anyways. Wait. What the fuck? When did this turn into satisfying him? I don’t want to satisfy him!

Suddenly the chandelier falls, scaring the fuck out of me and dragging my dumbass out of my thoughts. I jumped like 10 feet in the air. What. The. FUCK.

“Do you know how not to show off?!” I yelled at Lucifer. A bit pissed he ruined my ruminations.

He ignored me and the motherfucker started a fucking musical battle with Alastor. Whatever.

How the hell could I be falling in love? There’s no way after, what? 28 years of being aromantic would lead to me just abandoning principals in a few months of knowing some random ass man.

I stormed upstairs, but it didn’t help. My thoughts ran too fast. Too loud. He’s like my father. No, that’s ridiculous. Alastor’s just… Manipulative. Controlling. No—he’s different. He doesn’t— Possessive. I reached my room, but my hands were shaking as I slammed the door behind me. I pressed my back against it, breath shuddering. I knew this feeling. I knew it too well. I squeezed my eyes shut, fists clenching. Stop thinking about him. Stop thinking about him. Stop thinking about him

At this point, I had no idea who I was thinking about. In the moment my dad and Alastor just seemed to blur. I couldn’t make out their distinct figures or characteristics they were one and the same.

Suddenly, I felt dizzy. Tears brimmed my eyes. I fucking hate him. I hate me. Why do I hate me? For loving him.

I curled up in bed and begged my mind to just shut up. It’s Hell for a reason. I must deserve all this shit if I’m stranded down here. I wish I could die a second time and go to that abyss sinners killed by angelic steel go to.

I’m overreacting, Dad’s not here and Alastor is- I paused. Alastor’s what? Not interested? Yeah right. Those looks weren’t nothing. I know he doesn’t actually love me, but he does have some sort of interest. The Hell am I supposed to do about that?

I buried my face in my pillow, and let my breathing calm as the cloth soaked up my tears. I can’t breathe, but I don’t want to bring my face up. It feels like a crime to leave my face venurable to the air.

Eventually, my thoughts ran out of fuel. My body felt too heavy to move. I just lay there, staring at nothing. The ceiling blurred, my breath coming in slow, shaky pulls. I should get up. I didn’t. Not until the silence became unbearable

And then, I walked. Walked out into the creepy dark hallways with numbness enveloping me. My mind had shut up, ran out of fuel. All I had left was silence.

I’m walking and walking and walking. Sounds envelop me.

“They don't need to know, and don't you worry your fuzzy head about it.”

Ugh Alastor. I rolled my eyes to myself, but I stayed still. I wanted to listen to something, anything. The silence I held was unbearable.

“You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet!” Husk exclaimed after Alastor pet his head.

“But you are! Haha!”

“Big talk for someone who's also on a leash.” Husk whispers, but I hear it. I hear it and I freeze. Fuck. That’s- I don’t know what do to with that kind of information.

The words stuck, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out. The neon green chain around Husk’s neck felt brighter, almost glowing in the dim hallway. I knew what it meant, but my brain refused to process it. I swallowed hard. I needed to move—say something, do something—but I just… stood there.My ears were ringing. I didn’t hear anything else that was said. All I saw was Alastor’s neon green chain around Husk’s neck.

Alastor turns around to meet my frozen stare. He comes closer, but I refuse to move my eyes from the spot I had trained them on. His stupid tailored suit comes into view.

“Well looks like someone’s been crying!” Alastor exclaimed jovially. “Upset the King didn’t pay you any heed?” There was a bitter tone to his voice as he said the words.

I shivered. “I hate you.” It was a little above a whisper. He knew I heard everything. It only proved to me the similarities between him and my father. They pretended it was normal. That it was okay. Nothing changed.

I stepped to the side, clearing my view and walked. Slowly, but I walked. Numb, but I walked. Walk. Walk. Walk. You just have to walk, then one day you’ll reach somewhere.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #4: Charlie's Trust Exercises

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

The prank war between Alastor, and I was in full swing. Each day brought a new ridiculous plot. First, Alastor hit me with unlatherable soap, which had me rubbing my hands raw, thinking I just wasn’t doing it right. Then, I snuck into his room and sealed his shampoo bottle with plastic, ensuring he got absolutely nothing out of it.

After that, I found my room filled with balloons and confetti. It was absolute hell cleaning all that glitter. If glitter was a currency, I’d be a millionaire. I found it in places I didn’t even know I had.

God, I hated glitter. It was far too… sparkly. And it got everywhere, sticking to everything.

I responded like any mature adult would: I filled his room with cotton. It was tedious as hell. Alastor has a literal forest in there. I don’t know how I managed it, but it was worth it.

But the highlight of it all? Alastor popping up out of nowhere in the middle of the night (okay, sorry, 5 in the morning) and scaring the living shit out of me. I screamed like a lunatic, heart pounding, ready to throw hands. Then I registered his face. Only then did I realize—I wasn’t about to be pranked… I was about to be scolded for being late to a damn hotel meeting.

Who knew the Radio Demon could be so damn terrifying when he wasn’t trying to be? Everyone but me.

But no matter how many pranks we pulled, we always seemed to come back to square one. Neither of us backing down. Neither of us willing to admit the other was getting the upper hand.

By now, everyone in the hotel knew to stay out of our way. That was until Sir Pentious got caught up in the crossfire. It was his first day, and honestly, I got really attached to his eggbois. They were just the sweetest little things. Dumb as hell, but sweet nonetheless.

Sir Pentious was something to say the least. He’s been in “fights” with Alastor from time to time, and honestly, I couldn’t take the snake guy seriously.

Sir Pentious got drenched with ice-cold water when crossing the threshold to the library. No one ever went there except for me, and I bet Alastor wasn’t expecting a new guest or a tour.

Honestly, though, I’m happy Sir Pentious got the brunt of it and not me. However, I am not happy that Charlie is forcing me and Alastor to do trust exercises. I’d rather sit through a root canal. I mean, sure, who wouldn’t trust a literal Radio Demon who tries to out-prank you at every turn, right?

I was ready to get this done and over with, so I decided to just be good. That way I could hate Alastor in peace.

“Okay! The first thing we’re going to try is a trust fall!” Charlie says with too much enthusiasm for me. I sighed softly. Alastor was standing beside me as Charlie explained the activity.

“Alastor you’re going to catch Y/n and Y/n you’re going to trust Alastor to catch you.”

“Pretty obvious princess. What’s a trust fall without trust” I answered with a roll of my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for this shit.

“Hey!” Vaggie interjected “You don’t have to be so rude. Charlie’s just trying to help.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Can we just speed this up?” I asked instead of answering with more snarky comments like I wanted to.

“Don’t want to hang out with me darling?” Alastor questioned with his usual radio voice tinged with amusement.

I didn’t bother to grace him with my attention and instead stood on the elevated block I was supposed to fall from. I swear, if he doesn’t catch me, I’ll make this whole exercise a living hell for him.

I took a deep breath, my muscles tense. How was I supposed to trust him? I could fall, sure. I didn’t mind hitting the ground. Not like I hadn’t fallen from higher places before. But trusting Alastor? That was a whole different story. Screw it.

“Okay, Y/n, you can fall now,” Charlie signaled. I stepped off the platform, my back to Alastor. But instead of catching me, the prick just side-stepped with his hands behind his back, that infuriating smile plastered on his face.

“Shit—” I hit the ground with a thud, glaring up at Alastor. “I hate you.”

He just gave me the same treatment I’d given him, ignoring my comment completely. I could see the gleeful gleam in his eyes. Fine. He wanted to play that game? Watch me.

“Alastor! You were supposed to catch her!” Vaggie exclaimed as Charlie came over to check on me.

“Are you okay?” The princess asked me.

“Sure.” I huffed. “Peachy.”

I got up and dusted myself off, sending one final glare to Alastor before Charlie spoke again.

“Maybe we should try a different approach. How about a trust walk, except this time Alastor is blindfolded?”

"Now why would I agree to that, my dear?” Alastor answered with his usual confidence and dramatics. “I could leave this hotel at any time and come up with no loss. You however would lose a valuable asset.”

“Shut up, man. You let me crash to the ground. What’s the worst I could do to you?” I retorted before Charlie had a chance to talk. “Why’re you being so defensive? You scared?”

That ticked Alastor off like I knew it would, his left eye twitching slightly. “Fine. Bring out the blindfold. I’ll do just fine even if you steer me wrong.”

Smug Bastard.

When the activity started, I would purposely send him into a wall or table and play it off as a mistake. “Oh, sorry! I meant your right.”

“Wait-No- I wasn’t serious about going backwards!” And other things like that.

I got him to the finish line pretty quickly though, only misguiding him four or five times. It was fun. Charlie counted that as a win, not knowing I made mistakes on purpose.

Alastor on the other hand wasn’t about to let that slide. “Can we do one more? I’m quite upset with the way I treated our darling Y/n on the first activity.” He smirked.

Charlie, excited Alastor was ready for reconciliation brought the elevated platform back. I did not want to fall again. I could feel my back aching from the earlier one.

“Charlie- I- What if I don’t want to?” I tried to ask a little perturbed by Alastor’s decision. "

“Oh come on! He’s trying to make up with you!” Charlie exclaimed.

Vaggie, who would have taken my apprehension into account, had already left, and I hated dulling the aura Charlie gave off. It was rare to find someone so innocently cheerful in Hell.

“Okay fine.” I grumbled and stood upon the stage once more. I was convinced he was going to let me fall when I saw his smile. Just to make Charles happy, I fell once more and to my shock me caught me.

I felt my cheeks flame as he held me to his chest. Alastor’s voice came soft and unmistakeably smug, as he whispered in my ear, “I’ve got you Mon Amour.”

I froze. Every muscle in my body locked up as I registered his words. I could feel his breath against my neck, warm and strangely intimate.

He’s messing with me. I thought. He’s messing with me. It couldn’t be more than that.

I wanted to push him away, but my body wouldn’t let me. It stayed in place, perfectly content in Alastor’s arms. They were strong. They felt safe. The fluttering in my chest was making my mind spin, and I hated that. Why did he have to do this to me?

Alastor noticed my predicament and his smirk grew wider. He was enjoying this for sure, and it only made the heat creeping up my neck worse. I hope he dies a second time.

“Are you alright, darling?” Alastor asks, mock concern dripping from his voice. There was a playful edge to it that was driving me insane. Finally gaining some logic, I pulled away from him.

I felt my cheeks heat up even more, and my mouth went dry. “I—yeah. I’m fine,” I muttered, my words barely audible.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

He chuckled softly, obviously amused at my reaction. All it did was send a delicious shiver up my spine which I despised. He has no business being this fine.

“See, I’ve got your back.” He teased.

“Ugh, whatever. Just don’t let me crash to the ground next time.” I answered. This was so much worse. It was mortifying. I wish he had just let me fall. A back injury would be better than this.

I stepped away, eager to escape before I started being an idiot.

Charlie looked between us, her eyes sparkling with that innocent hopefulness. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

I shot Alastor one final glare, a mix of exasperation and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, sure. It’s over. For now.”

“Until next time, darling,” Alastor called after me, the playful lilt in his voice not helping my sudden mood shift. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful or angry, but I was certainly feeling something I couldn’t quite understand.

But one thing was clear: this prank war? It was far from over. And neither of us was backing down anytime soon.

I actually love Mc and Alastor's dynamic so much. Like why am I swooning over my own writing. Goodbye my dear readers, until next time.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #3.5: Rules

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8

I'm still going to post Game #4 today, but I needed to make some rules for them. I feel like this creates boundaries, but leaves enough room for chaos and betrayal.. 😈

After that truce, Alastor and I came up with a couple of extra rules.

RULE #1 - No Help

You can only ask for help from your chosen accomplice that was decided when making this rule. Alastor chose Husk and I chose Angel. What a coincidence we chose the lovebirds.

RULE #2 - No Snitching

You can’t say a word about the prank to anyone, you can retaliate, but letting the prankster have their glory is a must.

Rule #3 - No Repetition

You can’t use a prank that has already been done by either party. It kills the creativity and makes it far too easy and dull.

Rule #4 - No Physical Harm

You can’t seriously hurt the other person. Otherwise, it isn’t fun. Emotionally and mentally are up for debate, however. Just remember the deal for no touching personal items.

Rule #5 - No Sabotage

Both of us care deeply about the hotel so we agreed we wouldn’t let the pranks interfere with anything hotel related. We also added the condition that you can’t prank the other person if they are involved in something important or are extra busy.

Rule #6 - No Unseen Pranks

It’s no fun if other people don’t see it. It has to come out some way or another. If you don’t showcase your prank, then you or the other person has to cause a scene about it.

Rule #7 - Escalation Cause

If a prank goes too far or is deemed unnecessary, the other person has full rights to retaliate with something even worse. Don’t push it, or you’ll regret it.

I'm calling out for help. I'm torn. I got this idea. What if Mc is aromantic, but still sexual? Meanwhile Alastor is asexual, but slowly starts to fall in love with Mc. What do you think? I don't know!😭😭😭😭😭😭 Help me pls..

[writingisart-yes]

Game #3- Second Degree Theft

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

I changed my mind about Charlie intervening. I think we need some more interactions before that. Next chapter for sure though

I had to get back at Alastor for that last prank, and I did match him with it. I wasn’t planning on stealing his radio staff, it just popped into my head. Practically second-degree theft. Lucky I even managed to pull it off—Alastor is almost always attached to that thing.

Alastor was preoccupied with Charlie, and he placed his staff against a nearby table. I saw it—saw the potential—and snatched it up. I slipped away unnoticed and hid it well

His expression was gold when I came back down. With Charlie already gone, I couldn’t help but smirk as I threw his words back at him. “Oh dear! Losing things, are we? How terribly inconvenient!”

He narrowed his eyes on me and I could feel the irritation. His voice popped and crackled with radio static. “Now, what a clever one you are.” He laughed menacingly. “I suggest you give it back before you regret it.”

Not going to lie I was a little scared as I saw the predatory gleam in his eye, but instead of acting like a normal person and giving it back, I pulled the same shit he did.

I teleported it into my hand and pretended to give it to him, but with a flick of my wrist it flew into the air and vanished. “Oh, I’m sorry. That didn’t seem to work,” I said my voice dripping with honey.

“If you don’t hand it over, I’ll broadcast your screams like I have with every other disrespectful wretch who dared to cross me.” He said his eyes flashing into radio dials.

“But how would you ever get your precious staff back” I cooed, tilting my head. “I doubt you would ever be able to find it.”

“Oh, I assure you, my dear, I can, and I will.” He answered his voice snapping with static

Suddenly he gripped my cheeks in between his fingers. “But I will enjoy doling out your punishment.” My breath hitched. His voice—had it dropped an octave? I couldn’t be sure, but something about it sent a shiver down my spine.

I wrenched his hands away from my face. “Firstly, don’t touch me. Second, why don’t we make a deal?” I glared.

“A deal?” He asked. “What do you propose, though I have to say you’re not in the position to be bargaining.” He hummed in amusement as if the thought of me having anything worthwhile to him was ridiculous.

I mean it was, but it still ignited a fire within me. I suppose that’s why I summoned his staff and began twirling it around my fingers like it was a pen. Not only that, but I noticed his gaze landed on my hand or perhaps his staff. Doesn’t matter—as long as I’m taunting him.

“I want a truce. How about I give you back your radio staff, and then we don’t go after each other’s personal, sentimental possessions.”

“What sort of penalty if you break the truce?” He asked, the amusement still coating his voice.

“Whoever breaks the truce buys whatever the other wants, or does whatever they ask. No limits.” I smirked.

“I suppose that’s fair.” He extended a hand. “So it’s a deal?” he asked, green particles of power flickering around him.

I shook his hand, my own yellow particles combating against his. “Deal” I handed him his staff back. “Pleasure doing business Mr. radio demon.”

Even after I left, I couldn’t shake the phantom sensation of his fingers digging into my cheeks—or the way he promised to make my punishment extra slow. On top of that was the mystery of him letting me live. He could have killed me no doubt. That can only mean one of two things: He likes me, or he wants something from me. Yeah, definitely the latter. The Radio Demon? Liking someone? Yeah, no. I think Nifty is the closest thing to that, and even that’s weird.

Alastor’s weird. Stop thinking about him, you freak.

I love how easy it is to get ideas for this. This fanfic cured my writer's block. (I write short stories and poetry.) ☺️

[writingisart-yes]

Game #2-Switcharoo Shenanigans

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

Why is this lowkey better than the first one? Basically Alastor is a lil bitch when pranking mc and mc loses her composure. I suck at summarizing. Just read it, I promise it's good.

The days following my prank on Alastor was filled with anxiety. I knew he was going to strike back, but I didn’t know when or how. I kept my guard up around him at all times. The time it took for him to strike back was perhaps more painful than the prank itself.

It started small. Little things that hardly even mattered seemed off. I misplaced my headphones which I thought odd. I was music addicted. Not only that, but I almost always wore them.

I brushed it off. The same day I found them on my desk which I was sure I had searched. The only problem: they didn’t work anymore.

I had been awfully busy lately. Perhaps I had dropped them and that’s why they didn’t work anymore. And I probably didn’t see them on my desk because I was tired. Yes, that must be it.

During the week I ended up losing a bunch of other things. I couldn’t find my mascara or my favorite slippers. It was frustrating. I thought Alastor might have done it, but I had no proof.

I found my slippers under my bed eventually, but I had to buy new mascara. Other things were lost too, like a ring I was particularly fond of and my pillow?

What? How do I lose a whole ass pillow? I sleep on the damn thing every day! I found it hanging from the light on the ceiling when I woke up that morning. It was absurd.

Then, one night when I came back to my room I couldn’t find my pen. It was a vintage black fountain pen that had gold details etched onto it. I used it every night before bed for journaling.

That pen was priceless! My mother had gifted to me, and somehow I managed to bring it with me to the underworld. I overturned my room, throwing the sheets away and opening every drawer.

It was a mess. The bed was stripped of its sheets which I discarded on the floor, the drawers were all hanging open with jumbled contents, my bookshelf had been robbed of my books. Even in my rush I treated my books kindly and placed them on my bed.

The disarray of my room glared back at me, reminding me of the way I used to keep it. The way my mom used to tell me to clean it. There was a reason my room was always pristine.

Tears pricked my eyes when I couldn’t find it. My breathing picked up. No. No. No. No. That was all I had left! My only thing tying me back to her! Then it occurred to me. Alastor. Suddenly I was filled with fury.

Of course, he would do this. Perfect way to get back at me. I stormed downstairs, rushing past the other residents and going straight to Alastor.

Husk, sensing the impending conflict retreated elsewhere as I approached the bar. I was sure my irritation was apparent, but the prick just sat there sipping his damn whiskey with a smirk that seemed much more infuriating than usual. My blood roared in my ears.

“Alastor” I said his name with as much scorn as possible. “Did you take my pen?” I asked accusingly.

He grins, shrugs, and says, "Oh dear! Losing things, are we? How terribly inconvenient!"

“Alastor!” I seethe. He does know, he was behind all that. “Give it back! It’s not funny!” I clenched my fists at my sides.

“Oh ho? It’s not? And here I was enjoying myself.” He casually pulls the pen out of his pocket, my precious, priceless, irreplaceable pen. He offers it to me, and just as I was about to grab it his finger twitches and the pen disappears. I glared at Alastor’s crimson eyes and insidious smile.

“Alastor, come on! Please!” I resort to pliancy, hoping he would just give it back.

“Ah, but if I simply handed it over, where’s the fun in that?” The pen teleports into his hand, and he waves it with a flourish. ”What do you want?” I bite out, all courtesy gone from my voice.

“Nothing much, all you have to do is answer this riddle, then the pen’s yours. No strings attached” His red eyes were gleaming with mischief, but I accepted anyway.

“Fine, what’s the riddle?”

“A woman shoots her husband, then holds him underwater for five minutes. Next, she hangs him. Right after, they enjoy a lovely dinner. Explain.” He asks. Probably thinking I would never get it right.

I smirked. I’d heard this riddle before. My younger brother used to be very fond of riddles and would test me often. It would always be at night, right after dinner.

We would sit at the table as our parents packed the leftovers and quiz each other. I was trivia and he was riddles. It was something I desperately wish I could do again, but that was long gone. We carried the tradition into adulthood, but I know he wouldn’t ever end up in Hell. I was alone here. A rotten apple in a family tree of sweet, delicious fruit.

“How many chances do I get?” I question. He answers me with a huff of amusement. “I was planning on letting you guess as long as you wished but..” He paused staring at me with a grin.

“But what?” I snapped at him.

“Since you asked me oh so nicely, I’ll reduce it to one. Just one. What a shame.” I groaned at his answer and clenched my jaw. I can’t believe this motherfucker.

One chance. I could lose the only thing that kept me grounded. It was the only thing that told me I couldn’t go insane and just screw life and my morals because I landed in Hell. I don’t know what I would do without it. I just went for it. I didn’t have any other answers in mind.

“She took a picture of him and developed it in her darkroom.” I swallow thickly after the words leave my mouth as if it had left a big lump behind.

Pride and relief flooded my chest when he said it was right. Thanks, Oliver. I snatched the pen from his hands, my heart beating wildly. ”How did you know?” Alastor asked me, amusement coating his voice.

I put a finger to my lips. “My little secret.” He moved his face closer to mine and whispered, “Well then, I’ll just have to drag that secret from your lips.”

His proximity sent a strange flutter in my chest, and my mind raced, trying to process what just happened. Was this a threat? It had to be. But why did my skin feel hot in a way I couldn’t explain?

I scoffed trying not to show how affected I was from his actions. “You’d never get it out of me.”

Enemies to lovers ❤️

We're going to have Charlie come in for some intervention next chapter. Alastor and Mc going to therapy~

Also tell me why I couldn't wait a day to write and post another chapter. 😂 I'm committed to this fic now.

[writingisart-yes]

Game #1- Coffee and Jello

Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 3.5 Game 4 Game 5 Game 6 Game 7 Game 8 Game 9

Bear with me guys, this is my first ever fic. Basically our dear protagonist has a penchant for adrenaline so she pranks Alastor and attempts not to get caught, but starts a whole prank war with him.

This is stupid. Beyond stupid. But I can’t resist. I’ve watched Alastor sip from the same “Oh Deer” mug every single morning. I know the exact time he takes it and although it took a while, I found where he keeps it as well.

And who knows? Maybe I can manage to ruin his morning coffee without getting caught. I felt an exhilarating sense of power when I poured the unflavored gelatin into his cup. I couldn’t wait until he came down and prepped his coffee only to find a wiggling mess in front of him.

I chuckled softly to myself as I walked down the stairs in my signature outfit, hands in pockets. It took all my willpower not to release my devious smile to the rest of the hotel residents. If I let my grin slip, someone might notice. And if Alastor catches on?

Well… let’s just say I enjoy existing

I slide into the dining hall, eyes flicking to Alastor as he prepares his usual morning drink. Breakfast is just an excuse to sit with people and pretend I’m not plotting crimes before noon. I never actually eat.

I act like I’m invested in listening to Charlie and Vaggie’s conversation, when it’s all white noise. My heart jumps the second Alastor takes his seat. Any moment now…

He tries taking a sip. Keyword, tries. Nothing comes out. He tilts the cup slightly, inspecting my work.

Plop! The entire coffee slides out of the cup onto the table, jiggling perfectly.

Angel, who slipped into the seat beside me while I was preoccupied with Alastor, snorts. “Now that’s a hell of a brew.” He says in amusement.

Alastor doesn’t bother to grace him with an answer and flits his eyes across each person in the room. The moment his narrowed, crimson eyes landed on me, my blood ran cold. My pulse quickened, but I tried not to let my apprehension show.

I noticed how his grin was twitching and how his static voice crackled. He was pissed. His smile was dangerous. Too quiet. Too still.

I could feel him planning revenge as he pokes the gelatinous mass. His eyes were gleaming. He knew. I don’t know how—I gave him nothing—but I could feel it.

I couldn’t help the familiar buzz of adrenaline that flooded my system as he said:

“Ahhh, such a clever little trick… I do love a game!”

I was officially in danger.

Part two??? Who wants to see Alastor retaliate?