#Alastor the Chosen

[crypticcodexcreations]

The Fated Twins

Finally starting to write again slowly but surely and ended up with this piece coming out really well, so here! Time to meet some characters I haven't talked about on this blog before!

Silence enveloped the small house like a warm blanket, a young man slipping from his bedroom with a book held against his chest. He snuck down the hall, avoiding the creaky boards outside of his parents’ room, stopping outside his brother’s door and taking a deep breath. The door creaked slightly as he opened it, clicking into place as he closed it behind him. His twin slept on, undisturbed by the soft noises of their home.

He paused again, knowing that this would be his last chance to back out of his plan. He’d been studying the books the mages had extensively, trying to grasp the magic surrounding the prophecy that supposedly bound him and his twin. He was sure that this book held the answer he needed, if his brother would just agree to the ritual. Slowly, he closed the distance to his sleeping brother’s bed, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gently shaking him awake.

“Asterius. Wake up.” Tired red eyes blinked up at him as Asterius woke up slowly, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Alastor? You should be asleep… Don’t you have to train early tomorrow?” Alastor grinned at Asterius, holding the book up for his brother to see.

“This is more important, Asterius. I found a spell that should break the prophecy and free you. We need to do it outside or we might wake up mom and dad.” Alastor was grinning widely, waiting for his brother. Asterius sat up slowly, looking at his brother already all dressed and ready, the rich robes the mages had given him just barely brushing the dusty floor beneath his feet.

“Break the prophecy? I…” Asterius stopped, instead standing to get dressed. Alastor opened the window, climbing outside, the gentle night breeze blowing through his long black hair. Asterius joined him quickly, shivering slightly. “What do you mean, Alastor?”

Asterius followed as Alastor started leading the way through the trees to where he had been preparing for the ritual. He glanced back for a moment before focusing his gaze forward to make sure they stayed on the right path.

“It’s a magical prophecy, right? So you’re apparently going to destroy the world whether you want to or not.” Asterius nodded at Alastor’s words, looking down at the ground, eyes locked onto his brother’s back. Alastor continued to talk.

“So it must be some sort of strong magical effect. I found a ritual in this book that the mages had. It’s supposed to be able to dispel magic on a person! And since I’m the chosen one, obviously I should be strong enough to break whatever magic is binding you to the prophecy’s will!” Asterius looked up at that, a faint glimmer of hope stirring in his eyes.

“How will we know if it works?” Alastor stopped as they came to the spell circle he had prepared, looking at Asterius.

“The mages said that our eyes are the mark of the prophecy, and if that’s true, then your eyes should change color.” Asterius blinked, looking around at the magical symbols in the dirt that he’d never been taught to understand.

“So what do we need to do, Alastor?” With a simple handwave, the sleeve of Alastor’s robe fluttered as he motioned to the center of the spell circle.

“Stand there, in the center, I’ll do the rest, Asterius.” Alastor moved to a tree, digging in the dirt around its root and pulling out a bag. He set up candles around the edge of the circle. Asterius stood where he was told, following his brother with his eyes, examining the symbols carved into the candles. Slowly, Alastor went around the circle again, lighting the candles this time. As the flame on the last one was lit, Asterius found himself frozen in place.

“Alastor?! Why can’t I move?!” Alastor looked at him, still grinning, the flickering candlelight reflecting off his golden eyes in a way that made Asterius’s stomach flip.

“This is normal, Asterius! Once I’m done with the ritual, you’ll be able to move again. It’s just so that you can’t break the spell circle and accidentally hurt yourself.” Alastor opened the book, eyes scanning the pages until he found the spells he wanted. Asterius whined softly, the feeling that something wasn’t right with this creeping into his mind.

“How will we know if it worked?” At first, Alastor ignored him, instead reading the words on the page aloud, moving his fingers the way the mages had taught him, the wind starting to pick up as he channeled the magic. Once he finished, he started to laugh.

“We’ll know it worked because you’ll be gone!” Asterius’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. “I knew I’d have to silence you. There’s no way I could focus on the ritual if you could speak. Why should I wait for however the prophecy is going to force us against each other? I know that you’ll destroy everything, and that’s enough reason to me to get rid of you now, no matter what the mages say. They don’t want to kill you, spout something about messing with forces I don’t understand, but they’re fools! My destiny is to stop you from destroying the world and I’ll do that now!”

Tears rolled down Asterius’s cheeks as Alastor explained it all to him. He went back to the book, starting to read the words on the page aloud, the wind starting to whip the tree branches overhead. Alastor’s magic flooded the circle around Asterius as he was powerless to help himself. Asterius closed his eyes. He had hoped that he could avoid his fate, that there was some way he could dodge the prophecy’s design for him. He had never wanted to hurt anyone. Perhaps this was for the better? If he were gone, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Maybe Alastor wouldn’t have to spend all his days training either and could do whatever he wanted.

As the wind howled, Asterius slowly found himself accepting his fate. He just hoped that everything would be better because of it. Slowly, he lost all awareness of the world around him, and drifted into the silent abyss.

As the spell hit it’s end, the energy exploded out into bright, shining light, blowing Alastor back into the tree behind him, leaving him seeing stars. Alastor groaned as his body ached. He hadn’t expected the banishing ritual to react that way. He got up slowly, trying to ignore the pain. The candles had gone out, the smoke sparkling softly as it curled up into the sky.

Quickly, Alastor started shoving everything from the ritual back into the bag he’d hidden it in. He went around the circle with his foot, trying to completely erase the circle and symbols. Once it looked as natural as he could manage, he hurried to the nearby river, throwing the bag in to be carried off, hiding the evidence of his secret ritual. He snuck back to the house, leaving his brother’s window open before sneaking back to bed. In the morning, it would be assumed that his brother ran away and Alastor had no intentions of correcting anyone.

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

[mandareeboo]

Of course, Charlie is everything he's wanted in a daughter. That's the bonus of all of this. She's powerful, she's devoted, and she cares. He can play her emotions like a fiddle. He knows she won't turn her back on this hotel. And being the bio child of Lucifer means she's got a whole bank of repressed power he could definitely use for himself.

He's not lying, for once. Charlie is literally everything a man like him could want in an heir.

[fraugwinska]

Say what you want about this cannibal serial killer gone devilish overlord taking joy and entertainment form the suffering and failure of others simply to kill his own boredom from a cartoon series about life in literally HELL...

he DOES have some good points.

[lustringcharlieau]

Hey, long time no see! Today I bring you the controversy king - Alastor the Radio(?) Demon!

As I already mentioned before, my reading of Overlords is different. They are, mostly, OLD. Alastor is no exception, in fact, he was one of the first successful overlords in Hell, who was once close to Lucifer, Lilith and Eve.

So what's his deal? Alastor's real name is long lost in memory lane. He died around 500 B.C. somewhere in Ancient Greece. He was a shady figure that used miscommunication to indirectly kill people, or watch them suffer. He got away from justice and died while wandering the woods, when a hunter mistook him for a deer and shot in the heart.

Alastor kept using his skills of communication and miscommunication in Hell. He created the first alarming and surveillance systems using his acquired souls as transceivers.

Now speaking of design. Stable parts of his design are deer features and blood stains on hands. In general, I decided that Alastor, when summoned by a mortal, would choose to keep some of his summoners' appearance. He would change it alongside a small part of his personality every once in a century. You know, that's how immortals have fun. His last persona is a radio host serial murderer that summoned Alastor to get rid of evidence in exchange for all the souls of those he killed (except those who went into Heaven) and his own.

Alastor is fascinated by radio and believes that it is the superior communication tool. After he found out it exists, he adopted the nickname "Radio Demon", omitting his previous alias "Miscommunication Demon". He uses his monocle as both a receiver and a mic. So yeah, no one-eyed staffs, everything's pocket-sized.

Ten years prior to the main events, Alastor gets injured during the extermination, and Vox, one of the younger overlords, uses his weakness to take the majority of Alastor's souls and his title as one of the most powerful overlords. Alastor went into hiding for sometime, only to reappear and meet Charlie, Lucifer's previously-hidden daughter...

[im-just-a-br0adway-baby]

(Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Sir Pentious, and Cherri Bomb are sitting on the lobby's couch together. Vaggie comes in wearing an oversized t-shirt with a wolf on it, khaki shorts, and those sunglasses that every Tr*mp supporter has for some reason. She also has a prop katana in one of her belt loops. Charlie, Angel, and Husk laugh.)

Vaggie: So... you must be the new residents of the Hazbin Hotel. Well, there's a few things you should know if you wanna survive here. Number 1: Don't fucking ask where Lilith is.

(Charlie, Angel, and Husk laugh again.)

Vaggie: She's in heaven fighting laser dolphins. Number 2: Get your fucking lunch orders in. I'm gonna save the rest because I think I'm good.

(Alastor and Niffty laugh as Vaggie backs away.)

Vaggie: Oh did I not get you guys? (Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb shake their heads) Number 3: Don't use the Boom Boom stall in the lobby's bathroom. That's Sir Pentious's stall.

(Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb laugh)

[ninitenebrae]

Loved sketching them and fun fact I never sketched them before \o/ First time, yay!

[mcltiples]

Sipping at his afternoon coffee, bright and cheery in that type of way that only suggested he's eager for tomorrow's ball. On such a very peculiar day, too. He's very excited to see what the event will bring about.

[alastors-radioshow]

☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back.

Manhandling symbol starters

☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back.

A smaller yelp of surprise would leave the overlord as he felt his arms pinned behind his back, crimson orbs looking over his shoulder, eyeing the assailant.

Oh. Oh, so this was what the game was today?

From the corners of the room, shadows would emerge, slithering across the floor, only to grab onto the imp's legs, slithering their way up to grab ahold of his arms.

Once those shadows had a good hold of the imp, he'd be pulled back and slammed onto the floor, the stag turning around to look at him.

"You know, if you wish you ambush an overlord, you will need to do your research a little better, mon ami~"

[lurochar]

Scent

Scent (Behind the Scenes)

If you're stressed, please take some fluff~

~♡♡~

"Darling?"

Alastor missed you.

Would he actually admit it? Probably not.

It had been a long month, his rut month, but he had chosen to isolate from you since you and he had not bedded each other yet, and he certainly did not want his first time with you to be an insatiable beast that a rut-crazed mind may produce.

"Dar-"

Alastor paused, tilting his head when he noticed something familiar wrapped around your small curled form as he materialized in your room from the shadows.

One of his overcoats.

One of his used overcoats.

Just how did you get that?

Alastor narrowed his eyes, smile tightening as he slowly moved forward to sit quietly on your bed. He stared down at you with hungry eyes and his ears twitched when the sound of a chitter echoed in your room.

Ah.

So that's how.

So you weren't taking his clothes.

But honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care about that really.

Not when-

You sighed his name in your sleep and Alastor found himself running his claws so very gently down your cheek in return. He couldn’t help but to lean down, inhaling deeply.

You smelled of him, were drenched in his scent.

How mouth-watering.

How lovely.

And all his.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Random thought: One of the things Niffty has to work through in therapy in Heaven is how Alastor fancied himself a defender of vulnerable women and yet did this to her. She clawed back her personal power and agency after a lifetime of being used by others, and then he just flushed away all that hard work, forcing her into an even more vulnerable state just to satisfy his own curiosity.

Overlord Niffty backstory because why not

She was born Nancy Sada in 1931 to two first-generation Japanese immigrants in middle America. She had a relatively happy childhood, mostly confined to her local Japanese American community. However, after the US entered WWII, she was suddenly under enormous pressure to acculturate herself into mainstream American society in order to prove her and her family's loyalty to the country.

As she aged, Niffty developed an obsession with perfection– being the perfect American, the perfect woman, the perfect everything. She began molding herself to fit these roles, making herself smaller, sweeter, more demure, all in hopes of achieving the ideal self. It wreaked havoc on her self-esteem and mental health, and more often than not it felt as though it was all in vain since society was so hostile to her due to her ethnicity.

However, when she was 19, Niffty finally made some progress towards her goal of achieving the post-war ideal; a handsome young man had taken an interest in her. Niffty jumped at the opportunity, falling head-over-heels for him (or at least, the idea of him), and agreeing to marry him the moment he asked. This was it. She had the perfect, all American husband and she was going to be his perfect wife.

Things were fine for a while. Niffty was perfectly happy to stay home running the household all day while her husband was at work. She enjoyed housework and even if she was a bit lonely, she knew she'd make friends with the other women in the neighborhood eventually, and if not, then her future children would fill her days. But as time went on, that sunny outlook started to seem more and more naive. The neighborhood women were cold to her due to her ethnicity, she wasn't getting pregnant no matter how hard she tried, and her husband was becoming increasingly callous and neglectful, treating her more like a maid than a wife.

The isolation took its tool on Niffty and she started edging her way towards a nervous breakdown. She tried to suppress her anxieties by committing even harder to the Perfect Housewife persona, but that only made things worse as now she was not only unhappy, she was failing at her goals. Things eventually came to a head in 1953, when she discovered her husband had been cheating on her with someone at work. Niffty felt as though her world was crumbling around her and, in a fit of rage and grief, she stabbed her husband to death with a kitchen knife. The neighbors heard the screams and called the police, who promptly shot Niffty three times in the chest when she refused to drop the knife.

Niffty was devastated when she woke up in Hell. She'd spent her entire life being as sweet and kind and good as possible, but all of it had been for nothing. She'd killed the person who was supposed to be the center of her world and was now damned for eternity because of it. She'd failed. Despite how heartbroken she felt, Niffty wasn't willing to just roll over and die or let herself be swept up in the violence of Hell. She was only 22– she wanted to live, and live well at that. She'd wasted her whole life being good and submitting to everyone who crossed her path and it'd gotten her nowhere, so why not try the opposite?

Niffty never did things by halves. She fully committed herself by seizing back her agency by any means necessary. Using her small size and cute demeanor to her advantage, she started carving out a life for herself in Hell. She got herself a job in the fashion industry (one of her great passions in life that she'd abandoned for her husband) as a seamstress and settled into a typical sinner's life. However, she wasn't satisfied with the state of things for long; she didn't want to just be another face in the crowd, she wanted to make her mark on the world.

Slowly, she started tricking people into contracts. It wasn't hard– so many sinners saw her as weak and harmless that they easily agreed to deals that they would've been far more cautious of had they been dealing with a more physically intimidating demon. Networking, exchanging favors for favors, building up her status– all of it paid off in the end when the previous Overlord of the fashion industry was killed, leaving a power vacuum that people were rushing to fill. Niffty managed to start her own business using the connections she'd made, and while all the other wannabe Overlords were fighting over the old Overlord's power and territory, she positioned herself to start gaining power of her own.

Her business was successful and began to grow, starting to swallow up smaller fashion studios left and right. Niffty's tireless pursuit of her goals was starting to pay off and she was not about to let up now. She pushed her employees to work harder, work faster, and within only a few years, she was the head of the most successful clothing brand in the Pride Ring. It was child's play to topple the person who'd come out on top in the scramble for the title of Overlord of Fashion and claim it for herself. By the end of the 1950s, tiny, humble little Niffty had clawed her way to the top of Hell's hierarchy.

For the next several years, things stayed that way. Niffty felt as though she'd finally reclaimed her personal power and was content to protect that power at all costs. She made sure her brand was always putting out the best clothes they could possibly make; she became very territorial and would crush any competitors who threatened her power like bugs; she decided that while she may never be the most powerful Overlord, she could be the most perfect one.

She developed a toxic work culture within her company, telling her employees/contractees that they were all one big, happy family, with her as the doting mother. She was genuinely sweet and affectionate with her workers and did whatever she could to make them like her– other than improving the sweatshop conditions of her factories, of course. Then, when a problem arose or they fell behind on their quotas, she would leverage that emotional connection against them and punish the whole group for the actions of a few, using the justification of "mother knows best."

Niffty started to open herself back up to men again after several years of ignoring them to focus on her career. She started leaning towards the "bad boys" she'd admired in her youth, since the perfect, seemingly wholesome option had worked out so badly for her. Despite all her power, she was still scared of entering into a real relationship though; if she let her guard down, things could so easily turn abusive again and she'd be back to being someone's little toy on a string again. She eventually decided that she liked men more as aesthetic objects more than as people. She ended up with a little collection of breathtakingly handsome male models who'd signed their souls away to her– she never engaged with them sexually or romantically, but instead got her kicks from displaying them like taxidermied butterflies, reveling in the total control she had over the people who had once had such control over her. She'd occasionally hook up with men outside of her employ, but she never entered into a significant, long-term relationship ever again.

Niffty sat comfortably on top of the hierarchy until the late 1960s. She'd met Alastor in passing a few times during Overlord meetings/events, but she'd never exchanged more than a few polite words with him. She didn't feel particularly in danger from him– his huge Overlord massacre had been over thirty years ago at that point and while he still did topple one every once in a while to keep himself fresh in everyone's minds, he usually went after far bigger fish than her, power-wise. Sure, business was booming, but she was a 4 foot tall bug woman without any of the big, flashy powers most Overlords had; she'd be too easy a target for him to get much of a thrill out of, right? She felt utterly secure that day, sitting in her office, drawing up new designs for the upcoming season, completely invested in her work. And then everything went black.

[crypticcodexcreations]

Hello and happy STS, Cryptic! :D This is for a WIP of your choice (though as a light suggestion, given the content of this question, Hell's Casino would be hilarious here): If your main characters were sucked into our world, The Devil Is a Part-Timer-style (i.e., dropped into our world without the resources/status they had in theirs, transformed into basically human with no powers, and the only thing they've got are the clothes on their back and their memories), how well would they fare? What would they do to survive, who's failing at adapting and how, and most importantly, who is working at McDonald's?

I can not even begin to describe the absolute joy this ask has brought me! The Devil is a Part-Timer is one of my absolute favorite animes and as such, I don't think I can resist the urge to talk about this for multiple WIPs. This is probably going to get long as I ramble on in my excitement, so I'm going to be nice and put a read more here

So, Hell's Casino is honestly pretty easy because my partner once pointed out that The Demon, Sainsevalurius, is kind of a demon Ariel! Hector is from our world, so he would fall into it pretty well, but if they were working together, he'd have to put Sainsevalurius on a child leash or he would lose this little human culture obsessed idiot demon. And that's not to say that Sainsevalurius couldn't take care of himself. He's been finding ways to survive amongst much more traditionally stronger demons for quite some time. However, he would forget that he's lost his powers sometimes and end up lost, and possibly hurt. If he were alone, however, he would definitely get into a lot of trouble. He could hold a job pretty well though and would likely be more than happy to end up at McDonald's. He would absolutely play mind games with rude customers though.

On the Cross Over front, much like Hector, Agent is from a world too similar to ours to have much trouble. Mortimer and Michael, though, would both be interesting. Mortimer would have to have a human face instead of a radio head which would be its own adjustment. First of all, eyes are not a thing he has or wants to have. He would likely need a lot of time to adjust to having senses like sight and smell, only to then have to grapple with the loss of his steampunk style of technology. For him it would just be blow after blow to what he's used to, leaving him sitting at home and trying desperately to catch up constantly. Meanwhile, Michael used to be an adventurer. He is very much adaptable and loves nothing more than to help. He would absolutely end up happily working at McDonald's so that they could eat, but he would also be every staff member there's favorite coworker. If you've ever seen the comic panel of Superman, in his Clark Kent disguise, smiling politely at someone as they realize that shaking his hand hurts, that's Michael at rude customers. So overly polite, but exuding an aura of "Knock that shit off"

And now, I haven't talked much about the characters I'm about to mention, but I have to address them. In a recent snippet, I revealed Alastor and Asterius. I don't have a name for their story, and really it's only Alastor's story, but. This kind of IS the plot of Alastor's story. Alastor tore his own world apart to remake it to be "better", then couldn't put it back together. I haven't decided what kind of world Alastor ends up in. I keep going back and forth between a world that also has magic, but that he can't use or a modern day our world type world. However, I do know that in a world like ours, he would struggle constantly, always be miserable, and curse every god his world had had to offer.

Asterius, on the other hand, would welcome the lack of magic, having believed all his life that he would be the one to tear their world apart and leave it in shambles. The poor boy would probably cry upon being told that the magic of the prophecy he felt bound by is nothing more than superstition and he could find work pretty easily considering their parents were farmers before their birth. He's quiet and shy, but he would do good work. He'd get overwhelmed somewhere like McDonald's but he would be more than happy to just do farm work for the rest of his life.

[inuhalfdemon]

Alastor x Female Reader

"Hang In There"

Rating: Explicit [SMUT]

Word Count: 4,576 Words

“Hm…I’d sure like to hang off of those antlers,” you told him; both of you drinking giddily at the bar.

Who knows why he humored the offer. Perhaps Alastor was tipsier than you realized, maybe he just felt like being entertained or, maybe he was just feeling uncharacteristically ruttish this evening.

For whatever reason, Alastor turned back to you and purred: “I’ll let you, too…. but, rule number one is: you can’t let go.”

Warning Banner Source: cafekitsune

Heart Divider Source: bunnysrph

So it is, that you find yourself in bed with The Radio Demon.

When he's got you pressed firmly to him; both of you naked, and squirming in the sheets, it's easy to forget how you got yourself there in the first place. You both have been going hot and heavy there for some time now...your body is electric, demanding more. Biting your lip, you arch your back...every curve in your body fitting with his; desperate now for any form of friction. Your hand slides down...but he catches your wandering fingers before you make it below his waist. 

"Ah, ah, ah..." he scolds you - his voice singing back at you in a dark and low manner. "I have a very important task for you..." 

He tilts his head and you've only just now realized just how fully his antlers have come in. Points branch and jut up to the ceiling in long, sloping sharp curves. You've never seen them this long...this heavy... 

He tilts his head more; watching you coyly from mischievously narrowed eyes. You smirk back at him. Ready to play his game and feeling confident, you raise both arms and firmly grip around his brow tines; the points of antler that stretch most forward and that are nearest to his head. 

"Good girl..." he growls...the sound sultry and dripping with favor. 

You feel heat crawling up your face as he shifts himself; pushing you back down so that you are firmly pressed beneath him again and into the bed.

His face leans in close; and the heat of his breath tickles at the soft, fine hairs that trail upward from you neck - just behind your ears. He begins trailing kisses...gentle and sweet...starting there and working his way slowly...teasingly...all the way to your chin. He pauses. Kissing you warmly – firmly - before you part your lips in a gasp, your tongue sliding out to meet his in a need to continue and deepen the kiss. Chuckling, he pulls his mouth away...instead going back to trailing kisses all along your jaw on the other side. You huff and you swear you can feel his smile widen, against your scorching hot skin. He continues to pepper you with kisses...very slowly working his way down and across your neck, licking and nipping in the chosen spots he finds along both collar bones. With your hands occupied as they are, you cannot touch him and the implications of this are only now starting to sink in... There is a sliding wetness that's been building between your legs...a pulsing need for a special kind of attention spreading and thrumming from your navel and dipping down... 

When he comes to a breast...cupping the mound of flesh in one hand and flicking his tongue across the pert nipple, your back bows and you can't help the needy whimper that escapes you. Lifting his head; Alastor grins back at you in a lazy sort of smile. 

"Patience," he growls again. "All good things come to those who wait..." 

Watching you, watch him, he leans his head back down...tongue slowly sliding out from behind sharp teeth...the warm and wet tip of it swirling slow and teasing circles all around the firm flesh of your breast.

The tortuous teasing elicits more whimpers from you...turning into soft whines when he begins squeezing and kneading at you and his face drifts to the side as he repeats his teasing ministrations with your other nipple.

He is watching you still...red eyes glowing sharply back at you...dancing back at you in delight. He's enjoying seeing you coming undone...piece by piece...with you unable to do anything for it. 

A pant bursts from your lips; the building need that pulses incessantly between your legs is becoming too great. You squirm beneath him, lifting and squeezing your knees together  - seeking any amount of friction that your own body can provide. He presses himself further down on you...forcing you to remain still. Your whines to him sharpen...turning his ears...brightening the red glow that is coming from his eyes...eyes that have never once left you.

He begins sucking at your nipples, slowly and purposefully alternating between them. The tension in you has coiled so tightly…you are quivering now; a sheet of sweat is just beginning to coat your too heated body. One of his hands drags fingers down your side – claws grazing against taut skin stretched all down your ribcage.

A sharp tooth scrapes across the too tight - the much too sensitive - skin of the nipple he’s been actively tormenting. You can't help your hips from lifting into him in a soft buck. 

Alastor tsks at you... "I'm making this too easy for you, I'm afraid." He's looking at you now with a wry smirk. "Remember, our rule..." 

He shifts himself again, moving so that he is raised on his knees in the bed. It forces you to raise up with him - arms still lifted, hands clenching antler -, sitting fully upright now, with your back pressed flush against the headboard. He helps guide your legs out so that they are comfortably pulled out in front of you. Settling in, he leans close...not quite straddling you. 

His hand returns to the breast that he was attending before you interrupted him...his fingers gently brushing against the overly sensitive bud there before he pinches it. You bite your tongue, turning your reddening face away and suppressing a moan. He presses himself in closer and you feel his other hand finding your hip...feel his claws pressing into your skin there...not quite piercing through. 

He twists at the nipple again, then gives it a sharp tug. A hiss of pleasure slips past your tightened lips, and you hear him chuckle softly. 

The way that you are sitting, you can feel the wetness between your legs...feel it coating your sex and feel it sliding down and seeping into the bed. You so badly want to rut yourself into the mattress, his leg...anything that will bring you some form of relief. 

Almost reading your thoughts, his hand resting on your hip glides away...claws tracing sparking and burning trails all across your skin - going to just below your navel and still traveling lower...he slides his fingers through and into your pubic tuft...his other hand still playing and teasing at your incredibly firm nipple. You feel shock waves traveling down from your chest; rippling and building into something greater. His fingers curl into the hair that's there...pulling and tugging. He's already got you panting again. 

He's made you so dizzy with want. Shuddering, you suppress more wanton moans as you bend your head backward...exposing your neck to him. He lifts the hand away from your breast, his palm pressing to just the side of your neck...long, fingers wrapping...his thumb brushing tender and soothing circles over the pulse that's there. You didn't notice his hand ever releasing your pubic hair... didn't notice the way he shifted and leaned...the way his smile tightened, the way the tip of his long tongue poked from between his lips and slid across them in building anticipation. 

But, you felt it when he touched you. One long finger sliding between your wet folds...another finger sliding in beside it. You gasp, a small cry involuntarily leaving you at the contact he has made. Your hips tilt, legs spreading to him in open invite...you want more. The fingers he has pressed and wrapped around your neck tighten. Both of his fingers are gliding through your slick folds...massaging and spreading them away from the entrance you have hidden there. One finger dips inside...the claw of it dragging pleasurably against your wall when it enters. You can feel your sex fluttering; your body crying out with your intensely growing need. 

"Oh...sweetheart," he tells you breathily. "You're very nearly ready..." He drags his finger from you and you feel your walls throbbing...aching from the retreat of his claw. 

Leaning back now, he pulls his hand away. Peeking back at him with one eye, you see strings of your slick...gathered and dripping between his fingers. 

He sees you looking and the tilt of his smile curls at the corners. Humming, he dips his hand down and runs his hand across your belly...covering you in your own carnal slickness. 

You can feel your face burning...feel a pleasurable prickling running up the back of your neck and flooding your scalp as he leans himself down...Still holding onto his antlers, your arms are lowered as he bends down...head tilted back so that the curvature of his points that are near to your face are aimed safely away. 

His tongue darts out, taking long lapping sweeps of it as he cleans up the mess of you he has made. He comes to your navel and you groan...the hand that has never left your neck tightens...claws digging into skin. The tip of his tongue is teasing at the rim of your umbilicus...before dipping in and finding the beads of wetness that slid there. 

"Ahhhhh...." You shake out a breath. His tongue presses into you more...darting in and back out in a suggestive manner...giving you a very clear idea of the things he could do to you... with that tongue. 

You’re squirming underneath him again...unable to help yourself. Your legs opening still wider. 

"I hope you are well and prepared, my dear...because I mean to pluck three orgasms from you...one by one." 

Your eyes widen at this and when you turn to see just how serious he is...seeing how those red eyes are glinting back at you... you know that the answer is: deadly. 

His thumb presses against the pulse in your neck before his hand slides lower...claws raking pink lines against your skin as he leans himself further down. He is back to tongue-fucking your navel but he pushes two...three fingers inside you now and you feel your entrance pulsing around him. He moves them in slow, steady strokes...the tip of his claws dragging in and out of you in the most delicious of ways...the pad of one finger stroking and pressing into your sweetest of spots. You rotate and tilt your hips more...and your senses become absolutely flooded with everything that is pleasure. His tongue presses into your navel deeply...the tip of it wagging against you as he adjusts the angle of this fingers...jutting into that oh so sweet spot perfectly now...you've only just processed your climb when he’s got you thrown over the edge and you feel yourself breaking apart beneath him...your climax washing over you in a great and rushing wave. 

Your body is still sparking...jolting in pleasure when his fingers leave you...trailing through your quivering and sopping folds...finding your swollen and delicate nub and pressing against you just there. You buck sharply against him, and he pulls his tongue away from you now; his mouth latching to your skin above one breast...claws digging...only just piercing the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He's swirling his fingers against your clit...increasing the pressure he places against it with the increasing firmness he feels building underneath. His mouth is suctioned against your skin... lips and teeth moving...popping fine vessels underneath...

His fingers change directions, swirling and jutting against you as his mouth comes off you in a pop; his tongue dragging against the mark he's left on you. You've been reduced to nothing but little pants and small whimpers... your body shaking as you feel the tightening of that burning coil...feel it growing hotter and hotter until finally the heat of it is just too much. Your body cracks...you feel yourself splitting apart...another orgasm starts and it doesn't stop until he releases you...his fingers slowly stroking your clit back down into swelling softness. 

He pulls his hands away; moving them to your knees and pushing them out wider. He is looking at you...assessing your current state. You want nothing more than to touch him...to run your hands across this bare chest...to drag your nails; to rake them deeply all across his back...to run your fingers through his hair...squeeze his long ears. 

"Oh my..." He's looking down, and his tongue curls at the corner of his mouth. "My dear...you are positively dripping..." His mouth opens at the sight of it and it's clear that it is watering. 

You whimper and it pulls his attention upward. He hums when he sees the mark on you he has made. 

"That's rather lovely..." His eyes soften and he leans in; lips pressing softly to the bruising skin. "I might just have to make more of them." 

Choosing another spot above your breast to place one; he softly licks at the skin. Keeping one hand resting on your knee; he slides his other back to between your legs...fingers trailing back into your seeping folds. Your whimpers turn into a low moaning when he enters you again...long fingers pushing inside you...his thumb stretched and pressed firmly against your clit. 

"Ah...fuck..." You gasp, feeling his thumb starting to move and swirl against you; his fingers moving inside and out of you in long, slow and tortuous strokes

He grins against your skin and then bites down. It pulls a soft cry from you; and you duck your head down now...swiftly becoming overwhelmed. 

He releases his teeth from you - going over the new mark again with his tongue. 

"Deep breaths, darling...slow and steady wins the race." Moving his face, he nuzzles a spot over your other breast before his mouth is on you roughly again. 

You try to concentrate on your breathing but there's just too much... his fingers are still slowly dragging in and out of you...his thumb pressing and pushing into your now throbbing clit...the claws of his hand on your knee is tracing vibrantly pink circles into your skin there. 

You begin rocking your hips, tilting and pressing yourself forward...desperately trying to ease this new growing tension. Finishing his newest mark, his face drifts beside it and he makes to start another one. Your whimpers turn to pitiful whining...you are doing everything you can to shift yourself more forward...to feel more of him against and inside you... 

His grip tightens at your knee and his teeth clamp painfully against your skin but the stroking he's doing to you is quickening and the pain only builds into more pleasure. 

Static energy runs through your body; your back arches and your arms pull back - your grip tightening around the antlers. 

"Can you take one more, dear? Just for me?" He breathes, his nose brushing against your neck...warm air touching your skin there. Your head leans back and you are exposing more of your neck to him now. 

"That's it..." He croons, his mouth pressing beside your pulse and tightening there. Eliciting cries from you now, he bites down in earnest - your blood seeping from between his lips. Your grip on him tightens and you feel his fingers really fucking you now...his hand on your knee is pressing you down - holding you open. 

The climax you find now is like slamming into a wall; your orgasm rushes in and you’re coming so hard and fast that it almost knocks you senseless. Your body bows and bucks beneath him and he is snarling against you - his mouth still suctioned tightly to your neck. His fingers haven't stopped working you and every stroke now is an electric jolt of pleasure that strikes deeply...resonating into your core...

You can feel your heart pounding hard inside of your chest; your body is feeling strained from all of the building and re-building of tension, you are sucking in air – panting and trying to steady yourself as you relax your arms, moving your fingers so that you might release his antlers and stretch out the small and aching joints in your hands. 

He is smearing the last bit of your blood across your skin with his tongue when he stops – pulling back and looking at you with a dark and hunger-filled gaze.

“Oh, no no no…darling,” he chides at you. “We’ve only just begun. I told you how many orgasms I planned to pluck out of you…I never said just how many I planned to fuck out of you.”

Your jaw drops and he laughs delightedly. He slips his fingers from you and both of his hands are sliding underneath of your legs; wrapping under knees – his hands cupping and gripping your ass.

“Hold on tightly now,” he tells you before he lifts you up and off of the bed. Reflexively, your hands tighten back around the smooth bone in your grip as he raises you; setting your ass against the top of the headboard and pinning you there with his hips. The bedcovers and sheets that had him covered drop away and your eyes fly open when you see the jutting erection that he’s got pressed into you.

Oh, sweet Lucifer…he’s huge!

He sees your reaction and it only brings him more mirth.

“It’ll be a tight fit…I’ll admit but, I think you’re well and ready for it now.” He leans further into you; his cock pressing nearly flush against you. “Oh, my…but how deep I’ll go…”

Your eyes are widening; your heart hammering even harder now as you imagine that inside of you. He presses even closer and you can’t help but notice how heavy it feels.

“Well, now I’ve gone and made you nervous.” His red eyes flash back at you in amusement, and you are now just noticing the slithering movement of shadows – the many dark tendrils that are winding their way slowly from behind his back and twisting toward you. “Perhaps…some assurance.”   

He hoists you so that your ass is still balanced on the headboard, but you are free from his hips.  Tentacles hurriedly slip from him and begin wrapping themselves around your waist and legs; holding you up and spreading your knees wider.

“How many parts of me can I fit inside of you…I wonder?” He muses, teasingly as one of the tendrils wiggles and waves in between you and him; just as another one is sliding up your upper thigh and its pointed end is prodding into swollen folds.  

You gasp at the cool and ticklish touch of it; feeling it explore you in an unfamiliar but exciting way.

Your heart rate climbs up again as you feel it pressing now against your sensitive entrance. Alastor is watching you process the anticipation of it entering you. When the tendril slides inside; you feel it undulating as it moves – feel it widening and shrinking as it presses itself further inward – stimulating your walls. You are more than a little wet, making it an easy thing for Alastor to slide two more tendrils in beside it. You rock back with a low moan, feeling his tentacles slowly reaching their way inside of you – stretching your walls and filling you up.

His eyes have left you; traveling down and watching how his appendages are penetrating you now – how they are wriggling and moving through you by your entrance.

He pushes the tentacles into you as deep as they’ll go; letting them undulate and thrash themselves about inside you before retreating them back and sending them rushing forward again, and again, and again. Each stroke is pulling breathy gasps from you, and you limply feel your body becoming more and more pliant.

He’s still greedily watching the tendrils fucking you and you can see the pre-cum beading at the slit of his purplish twitching tip. Seeing his growing arousal pulls a pitifully needful whining whimper from you. His long ears jerk toward you at the sound, his red eyes shifting back to your flushed face, and you see that the pupils within them have significantly widened.

He continues to fuck you with his tentacles, but he is stepping back into you now; his hands are moving, adjusting your legs. He shifts his hips and in one fluid motion one of the tentacles slides completely out from you while the other two retreat back – pulling at your entrance and your folds from both sides to create more of an opening – before he thrusts himself inside. You feel the two tendrils slipping out as he is driving in. Air rushes from your lungs; his girth is dragging against your walls, and those walls are clenching around him.

"Oh... that's....heavenly," his voice grates out from the back of his throat and you’re not sure if you ever heard words dripping with such sin. His eyes have transitioned from their glowing red to an almost pit-less black.  

He's slowly sinking into you, or you onto him; his shaft steadily traveling deeper. 

"A moment...if you, please." He pauses, ceasing all movement. His head is leaning back – your arms stretching with the tilt of his antlers – his eyes are closed as he breathes slowly, deeply. 

When he slowly opens them again, his eyes are not as blown out black as they were.

Slowly – shakily – you can feel your body relaxing around him. He tilts his head forward again and using his hands, he pulls your legs around his waist. As his tendrils are falling away, he’s got a firm grip on your ass with both hands, and you are solidly pinned between him and the wall. 

When he starts to move – shifting himself back and then pressing forward again - his length drives into you even deeper. There is no part of him that isn’t touching a sweet spot within you right now and the way that you start groaning with every jut of his pelvis is obscene. With each sharp thrust into you, he is sending you back into that dizzying elevated climb.  

You are just thinking how you are not nearly as sore as you could be when you first notice it; the sound – the absolute squelching that is coming from where your bodies are joined each time that he rocks himself in and then out. You notice that, and then you notice the coarse tickling of his curls against you with each connection that is made. There is a low groaning and scraping sound above you and you notice flecks of paint are falling on you now – the branches of his antlers scraping heavily into the wall. He begins to grunt; his own body becoming slick with sweat as his juts into you are becoming more urgent.  

When you come, even you can feel the gush of fluid that rushes from you – feel it dammed against his cock as it pulses out of you in spurts.

"Oh that's...lovely..." he manages to groan out before he’s over the edge with you; coming inside. He pumps himself out into you – his thrusts jerking, stuttering but slowing down now and you can feel him softening in you.

Before you have a moment to fully come down; he straightens himself – standing himself up to his full height and lifting his head – and lifting you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he easily walks himself back, away from the wall and you are quite literally hanging from his antlers as he slides his hands away from your ass.

Tentacles are wriggling and winding their way back to you; more of them than before – a lot more. They are curling and slithering to you from all directions now – creeping up your body and sliding coils around your torso and limbs. A few are slowly sliding themselves through your sweat-soaked hair; a couple are teasing and twisting around your nipples and one especially frisky one is slipping its way up the back of an upper thigh and pressing its tip between your cheeks. You buck your hips up; unprepared for the touch and Alastor laughs.

“One last round, I think.” He is chuckling, and out of breath. “I have gotten quite old, after all…”

Tendrils are securely wrapped all around you, supporting your weight, but even at that…you are exhausted. Your arms are shaking; your hands are cramped, and your palms are sweaty, and you know that you can’t take anymore. Your fingers are slipping and just as you try for one last attempt to find a better grip around the branches of his antlers, you feel a cool grip tighten firmly around both hands.

Surprised, you jerk your head up and see a dark wide, gaping maw smiling back at you – Alastor’s shadow is leant sharply away from the wall – your hands clenched in its fists, as it is holding you in place.

“I told you, darling” Alastor was growling in a low purr. “Rule number one is: you can’t let go.”

Oh, fuck…

Alastor starts moving and it is only then that you realize: he is still inside of you.

In long, slow, dragging strokes, he is fucking you with his cock again. Whilst this is happening, more tentacles are sliding in to tease you now.  One gently coils itself around your neck – the tip of it coming to the corner of your mouth – encouraging your lips to part so that when you do; it is tangling its tip with your tongue. Another – perhaps the one that was there before – is sliding and pressing into your ass; flicking its tip against the rim to your entrance and teasingly threatening to penetrate you there. Still, one other is slithering through the soft curls that is your pubic tuft – the tip of it sliding into your slit just enough that it is able to swirl against your sorely swollen clit.

All of this happening – completely overwhelming your system - and soon Alastor is pounding into you. You wouldn’t think it possible – that your body was capable of such stamina – but, you can feel yourself starting to build again.

Alastor slams himself into you; his back arching into the thrust. His pupils are blown out wide again and he is biting his lip. He’s on the brink of it and it’s very clear that this time he will be the first to come.

With a groan and a shudder; he thrusts himself deeply into you one last time. You feel him releasing inside of you and all at once your body feels like a live hotwire. Every sensation erupts into a fiery jolt of rising pleasure. Your coil tightens and you feel as if it must find some violent release or you will fall apart completely. A tendril tightens and twists against your breast and there is hot rod of vibration that plummets downward into your belly. The fire of it spreads quickly; engulfing everything in its path. A convulsive shudder runs through you, and you feel like your heart might just actually stop beating – again. When it reaches the core to your coil; everything within you ignites, sending you into the longest, most powerful orgasm you have ever experienced – you’re not even certain where it began or even where it ended.

But, end it did and when Alastor’s shadow slipped away, releasing your hands and returning to the darkness; you finally – shakily – released his antlers and let go.  

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[callmerainman]

Alastor in a relationship with a pure hearted s/o

a/n. the relationship can be interpreted as queerplatonic or even romantic if you wish, but not sexual in any nature. hope Alastor is not ooc!

tw! canon typical violence

"cuddled up with a heart condemned, I should love you and I swear I do"

it's true that Alastor is touch averse, but this doesn't apply if it's you we're talking about.

also, we saw that Alastor dislikes physical touch only when it's someone else getting handsy with him. he can be pretty touchy if he wants to and likes to be close to you.

sneaking an arm around your waist, putting his hands on your shoulders, pecking your forehead. also, arms intertwined while walking around the city.

hand holding is more occasional, but not excluded at all.

he likes the sound of your laugh, and has a soft spot for your smile. he thinks that it suits you so well like a perfect-chosen accessory.

veeery protective. he knows you can be naïve and that Hell loves to take advantage of more innocent inhabitants.

he prefers to go with you when you have to leave the Hotel and strikes deathly smiles to anyone who dares to look at you with any kind of intention.

you're the only person who can see him drop his smile sometimes. he doesn't have to use it as a tool when you're around so there's no reason for him to always keep it. he doesn't feel vulnerable around your presence.

sometimes he comes back to the Hotel covered in blood. you don't approve his ways, and he knows, but he's just like this.

you shrug your shoulders, sigh, and then take some towels to clean him up.

"you'll end up ruining your coat and your pretty face like this"

loooves to dance with you. swing dancing specifically. maybe to the rhythm of an upbeat jazz tune in your room.

you were completely wack at dancing the Charleston, but he taught you well since he's an absolute beast at it.

you occasionally slow dance, it's a really intimate moment for you and Alastor and makes you both feel closer to each other. your favourite spot to slow dance is the forest in his room, especially at night under a clear and starry sky.

you like to drink together, he's a classy type of drunk and you make the best conversations while sharing a glass together.

sometimes, he'll start ruminating about the possibility of you redeeming yourself and leaving the Hotel.

he doesn't like ruminating, it makes him feel weird because he doesn't believe in redemption in the first place. so case closed...right?

he says to himself that even if you were to be, he would find a way to let you stay.

but he immediately tells himself that he doesn't want to force you. but he also starts to get concerned because it's not like him to contain himself and his cold heart. more ruminating, more concerned Alastor.

he's aware that he cares about you, and that you're special to him and that he feels a deep rooted love. but he never thought it would affect his evilness and now he's confused.

you like to cook for him, since you're aware that he's a huge foodie. and he loves to do the same for you! he likes to share his mom's recipes.

loves to call you "my darling"

you like to hang out at his radio tower, just listening to him intently while he hosts a program.

sometimes even asks you to join in to talk about jazz!

very occasionally sleeping together, just holding your hands with fingers intertwined.

honestly Alastor doesn't even know what love is, but he just knows that he feels it for you.

[eggcats]

It's honestly so funny to imagine the canon timeline, except with the one difference that Alastor and Vox are together. They could have still sniped during Stayed Gone and Vox still sent a spy into the hotel, even. That's their enrichment.

Like, imagine Lucifer complaining about Alastor, and when Alastor - for the hundredth time - makes fun of him for his wife leaving, Lucifer snaps that at least HE had someone willing to put up with him!

And Alastor's just casually like, "Hmmm? Oh, I'm married, and MY spouse isn't missing, AND he welcomed me back with open arms when I returned from my sabbatical!" [Note: those open arms were so he could strangle Alastor, but that's besides the point.]

Lucifer doesn't believe a word. Every description Alastor gives about this Vox guy sounds more made up than the last. A television head? A tech mogul? The CEO and owner in charge of all of technology in Pride? The deer could have at least chosen something REALISTIC if he was so embarrassed about being called out for being single.

And then Lucifer MEETS Vox, and he's like, oh no. There's fucking two of them. Somehow, they just make each other WORSE. If Lucifer thought Alastor was bad on his own, now it's tenfold with Vox in the picture.

And Lucifer can't even SAY anything because the one time he tried, Alastor and Vox IMMEDIATELY went to Charlie to imply he was homophobic! He's not! They're just the worst and happen to be married! His issue ISN'T the relationship it's the fact that they make his life worse every second he sees them!