#alastor x original female character

[falling-endlessly]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 1 of 13

Banner by @redvexillum - she spoils me sooo 

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Warnings: This fic contains sexual content, explorations of consent within Angel Dust's contract in relation to sex work, Sexual assault, Possessive and obsessive behaviors, Power dynamics, Adam being an ass, kidnapping, Vox is in hell for a reason, Val is in hell for a reason, Vox has a weird thing for Alastor, Angel Dust is sweet as pie, murder, revenge, implied sexual assault and harassment, miscarriage and death. This is a darker work and may be triggering to some readers. Please be responsible for your mental health and bounce if needed.

Summary: Isabel died young, leaving behind her husband to pick up the pieces. Finding herself in Heaven, she waits for her husband to join her. And waits. And waits. Years and decades pass as she faces the realization that Alastor may not be joining her in Heaven, leaving her largely alone in a realm of double standards and fake smiles.

She must decide if she is going to move on from her marriage or do whatever it takes to reunite with her husband. Would he even still want her? Would she survive the dangers to find him? Would the cost be worth what could be gained?

Is Heaven really Heaven if the one you love isn't there with you?

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Isabel sat at her desk, long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, reflecting the day’s light. The light filtered in through the gauzy curtains, casting harsh rays over the room in defiance of the window treatments. There was little that could be done to escape the blinding light of heaven during the day. 

She should be thankful to have woken up in Heaven, all those years ago. She had been a good woman and was rewarded, just as was promised in the Holy Book. That was what she was told to strive for all her short life. 

It didn’t feel like a reward, though. 

Isabel was left longing for the life that she had lived and those she had left behind as she waited out each passing year. Her heart longed for him more and more each day. It wasn’t fair, her mind would scream in the silence of the nights. They’d been married hardly a year, struggling to find the rhythm of marriage and life in a place that was so foreign to her. 

Her husband had been her rock through it all. He had been kind and soft with her, taking things at her pace even after they had been pronounced man and wife, far sooner than she was ready for. In her heart, she knew it would be nothing but a matter of time before he joined her in heaven and she could be again at his side, if he would still have her. 

“What’r you doing?” Adam hadn’t knocked. Letting himself into her modest home was not unheard of for him. He was a man that walked around Heaven as if he owned the place, “Still pining over him? Move on.”

“I promised to wait for him,” It was a part of her marriage vows, a tweak from tradition. Though she had been timid, she had spoken those words with her whole heart. She may have been standing there at the altar by her father’s urging and arranging but she meant every word as she spoke them. She hadn’t loved him then, but the roots were there and love was growing. 

As she had fallen in love with him over the following months, she meant those words more and more each day. Six months into her marriage, she had woken in the middle of the night realizing the depths of her love for the man sleeping beside her. 

It was there, in the stillness of the night that she knelt at the side of the bed, eyes locked on his peaceful face and messy brown hair, she whispered those modified vows again, pledging her very soul to love him for all time. 

“Why sit and wait for 70 years when you could have this dick?” Adam slammed his hands down on his hips, thrusting forward in a lewd motion that no longer phased her.

Isabel only closed her eyes, not wanting to see it yet again. He was the first man and she made a point to show him his due respect but there was no doubt that he made that very hard to do. 

Such lewdness was not something she was prepared for in heaven and yet she found herself battling off the most vulgar advances, only somewhat successfully, on the regular bases from the first man himself. 

“Adam, I am married,” She reminded him, voice strained with frustration. 

“You were,” He corrected, clearly not seeing her vows as eternal the way she did. And why should he, most humans pledged their love until death. 

This wasn’t a new conversation between them. It was a tired old script, a play she did not wish to be cast in and yet was forced to play a part. On a good day, he would grow bored and leave her with nothing but a knot of anxiety and fear in her stomach. On a bad day he left her with far worse. 

“Please leave,” She hoped he would go rather than press his desire for her. Today would have been her wedding anniversary, having Adam’s hands on her would have been ever so much more unbearable today of all days.

“Your loss,” She breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to leave. “He’s probably in hell anyway. Humans hardly live this long. You’re wasting your time.”

“I will wait forever for him.” 

“Whatever. I’ve got a meeting. I didn’t want you anyway,” Adam flipped her off as he walked out of her home, having stopped by to just torture her a little more. It would only be a matter of time before he returned once again. 

~~~~~<3

This was Heaven. It was bright sunlight. It was pure whites and a smile plastered on every face. It was having everything anyone wanted, everything anyone could ask for but never anything bad or wrong. None in Heaven would dare dream of having anything bad or wrong so there was no want for that sort of thing. 

It was empty smiles and hollow hearts. It was decades spent waiting, unable to show fear that those you love may not join you. It was forced joy and whispered prayers.

Heaven was a place where those in power could still do terrible things in the privacy of a home and no one dared to speak of it. 

“Oh, Alastor.” Slim fingers caressed the image inside the pocket watch. 

A trim man in a suit, simple glasses perched on his nose and soft brown hair hardly wrestled into place looked out at her. A soft smile was on his lips. Next to him, she stood veiled in white and in a simple white gown, looking equal parts a pretty young woman and a frightened doe.

A knife she could not see twisted in her heart, as it had every night when she worked into the hours of darkness perfecting the sketch. It was a replica of the photo she had remembered so well. It had lived in a small frame atop the dresser in their bedroom. 

She had waited for him and feared he wasn’t going to come. Adam’s words were nothing new but with each passing year, they cut her heart deeper and deeper as the realization that they could very well be true hit stronger.

He had been so good to her. He was such a gentleman. He was so kind to his fans and random strangers on the street. He was a far better person than she had ever hoped to be. He had been a good son, a good husband and a good man. 

But here she was. And he wasn’t here with her. 

Could he still be alive? She wanted to believe it but Adam was right. Humans only lived so long. Surely, he had run out of time by now. 

Why wasn’t he here?

~~~~~<3

Isabel was lost in her thoughts as she walked the streets of Heaven, empty smile pasted on her face. It was the same empty smile she saw on the faces of those around her whom she knew were, like her, waiting on someone who may not be joining them. It was the empty smile of someone in denial, waiting until the last possible second on the clock before they face reality. 

A commotion jolted her from the peaceful cloud her mind had found itself on. All of hell had been abuzz with news that Hell’s Princess would be visiting Heaven. What for was being kept hush hush but still, it was an exciting change of pace. All were to treat her with the greatest respect on her diplomatic mission but all were also directed to avoid contact with her if at all possible. 

The justification for the order was fear that her hellish influence would cause someone to stumble and fall from grace. It sounded reasonable enough, until one got a glimpse of the girl. 

Hell’s princess was getting a grand tour by Emily. The dear seraphim looked to have finally found a match, endless enthusiasm radiated between the two young women. Never in a million lifetimes would Isabel think that Emily’s match was going to be the Princess of Hell but walking down the street they looked to be two peas in a pod. 

Sara trailed behind them, looking like a put out babysitter more than anything else. 

Isabel watched them for a moment, clutching the small silver coin purse in her hand. Money wasn’t a thing in Heaven but she, like many, carried a purse or wallet to keep trinkets or pictures close. 

Inside the small purse, she could feel the shape of the pocket watch she carried. She’d never dare trusting the small token of her life to be left alone where Adam may find it. The act of pining over those still alive or worse, those who fell in death was frowned upon in Heaven. Those who waited kept their hopes and fears close to their hearts, carrying any evidence of their Heavenly treason on their persons for safe keeping. 

Fear and doubt warred within her heart as she weighed her options, watching the Princess with the bright smile. There was no way she could find herself alone with the princess but Emily was a kind soul. Sara looked to be wholly disengaged with the spectacle.

If she were to be quick, maybe no one else would pay her any mind. 

If she was lucky, maybe Emily wouldn’t think anything of an angel sending a trinket out. 

If Sara was merciful, maybe there would be no repercussions. 

“Wait!” Isabel called out before she had a chance to even think through what she was going to do or say. Her feet slapped the pavement, simple shoes falling away as she ran, throwing aside the option of flying under the radar. She would have to count on mercy. “Please, wait!”

They stopped, hesitating. It was obvious having someone call out for them, stop them in the street wasn’t in the Seraphim’s plans. Surprise lit up the Princess’ face but she didn’t appear to mind the intrusion in the slightest. 

“Please,” Tears welled in Isabel’s eyes as she came face to face with the Princess. Already her plan was gone. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?

“Isabel?” Emily was clearly caught off guard by the tears in her eyes. The whole reason for Emily to be was to bring the people of Heaven joy. To see one of her people so clearly suffering was shocking,“Is everything alright?” 

“I’ve been waiting for my husband. I- I fear that he’s passed but not been able to join me here.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be up here any year now?” Emily was ever the optimist. That was what the angels had all been instructed to say. It would happen any year, nothing to worry about. Don’t you dwell on those missing from your life, just be happy. “We’re a bit in a hurry, we’ll talk later?” 

Isabel pushed the silver pocket watch into the Princess’ hand. “His name is Alastor. If he’s in your domain, give him this. Tell him I’ll wait forever, until we can be together again. Tell him I’ll never love another.” 

“Alastor?” Charlie said as her companion pulled her along, clearly not wanting to prolong the trip.

“Get away from them,” Adam’s hand wrapped around Isabel’s upper arm and yanked her back from the Princess, sending her hard to the pavement. If the aggression of the action was intentional or not, no one dared speculate, “Let’s get this over with.”

~~~~~<3

Charlie was lost in her thoughts as her feet hit the ground in Hell. There was so much on her mind, everything about the meeting left turmoil in her heart. Still, when she closed her eyes she saw the wisp of a woman and the way Adam tossed her aside carelessly. 

“She couldn’t have meant our Alastor?” Charlie was lost, unsure where or what to do next. Vaggie’s betrayal stung her heart but in the moment, who else did she have to talk to?

“It doesn’t look like him.” Vaggie took the pocket watch from Charlie and looked closely at the picture before passing it back. The man looked kind, soft and frankly too normal to be the Alastor they knew. 

“But it looks kind of like him?” Charlie focused on the way he smiled. 

“Maybe if you squint?” Vaggie squinted her eyes, looking at the picture in Charlie’s hands, “And if you have really bad eyesight?”

“It seemed like it was a big deal to her.” Charlie couldn’t get the fear and tears in the woman’s eyes out of her mind. 

“Emily called her Isabel?” Vaggie mused. “She did look upset.”

“Maybe we should just ask him and see if he knows her?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll go great. Ask the guy that has shown no interest in anyone or anything if he was ever married.” Vaggie rolled her eyes. “When have you seen him care about anyone?”

“I- I don’t know.” Charlie sighed. “But she was so, I don’t know, sad? Scared?” 

“It’s Heaven, people aren’t scared or sad in Heaven,” Vaggie sighed.

“But she was,” Charlie didn’t have it in her to argue with the woman who had spent years lying to her in that moment. 

[writing-cins]

“Smile, dear!”

Just Al and my OC Mara tormenting Vaggie.

Once Alastor had introduced his wife to the hotel gang, they quickly learned she’s no better than him – the hard way.

[nkirukaj]

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe- Chapter 19 comic

“Not all cameras”

art by @hazbinhotelie

[voethebeau]

“Awh, That’s cute~ Don’t worry. I’ll be waiting for you Voe, just make the right choice~”

(Lucifer👑)

“Oh my,” 😳

[wolfer13579]

What are Alastor's mother and wife opinions on Charlie dating fawn Vaggie?

Well, Alastor’s mother doesn’t care that much as long as her grandchild is happy.

Alastor’s wife, however, was super supportive, as Alastor once told Vaggie that her mother also had an interest in women as much as men that she never acted on (It was the early 1900’s), but Alastor was supportive of his wife either way.

[diffidentphantom]

Built For Sin - Husk x OFC - Chapter I

Summary: Mystic is a fox sinner who has been in hell for 44 years. Like most sinners who have been around for a bit, she has seen and done a little bit of everything. But after finding out about the Hazbin Hotel, from a long-time acquaintance of hers, she goes there to seek redemption. (Or see if that could be possible for someone like her.) What she didn't didn't expect to find there though, was the now ex-Overlord who had owned her soul. Nor did she expect to see him have seemingly turn over a new leaf. Will Mystic be able to learn how to forgive and forget? Or will she stay stuck looking back at the past?

will contain Dark!Overlord Husk in flashback scenes

Story Rating: M For Mature - 18+ Readers Only!!! -

Please Read the Trigger Warning's Down Below to Decide if This Story Is Right For You!

Trigger Warning's: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark Themes, Dark Romance, Enemies to Lovers, BDSM, DubCon, Alcoholism, Gambling, Owning Another's Soul, Master-Servant Relationship, Depictions of Physical Abuse, Depictions of Sexual Abuse, Depictions of Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Genocide, Mentions of Cannibalism, Mentions of Torture, Depictions of Drug Use, Mentions of Drug Overdose, Blasphemy - will update the warning's as needed

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a post that was written by @trashogram. Their original post containing the idea can be found HERE. I have their full permission to use this idea for this fanfic. Please consider checking out their stories too.

Story Posted: 09-25-2024

Publishing Schedule: Updates for this story will be every other Friday.

Word Count: 919

Husk let out a tired sigh as he wiped the inside of another glass at the bar located inside the Hazbin Hotel. 

It had only been a few weeks and a couple of days since Alastor returned from his… sabbatical. A few weeks and a couple of days, since Husk had been pulled from his own life and dragged into this new scheme for entertainment. And while a majority of him grumbled about being back at the red-haired prick’s beck and call, another smaller part of him was grateful that Alastor was back.

As soon as he was out from under Alastor’s thumb, Husk quickly fell back to some familiar vices.

Gambling. 

Booze. (both the expensive or cheap, depending on how much he had won in a game)

And of course, every now and then when the urge hit him, call girls. Or men. Depending on the mood. 

Now, stuck at the ‘Redemption Hotel’ - Husk’s pockets were empty, and the only booze he got to enjoy was the cheap shit that was given to him by his boss. 

— He didn’t have an issue with cheap alcohol. It worked great in a pinch for an alcoholic like him to satisfy the craving. But Husk, more often than not, missed the days when he had his private stash of the expensive stuff that he could access 24/7. (He mourned the loss of his imported beer, wine, and spirits from the human world. Small comforts of home that Alastor had quickly confiscated for himself, as soon as a metal collar and leash were wrapped around his throat)

Letting out a sigh and mumbling lowly in irritation, Husk took the rag out of the martini glass before slinging it over his shoulder. He then grabbed said glass and put it back into its proper spot. Eyeing the bottle of open beer he had left on the counter, Husk swiped it and began to guzzle down the liquid in large gulps. 

It was honestly no wonder he was so easily frustrated and grumpy than normal. Cutting an addict off from most of their vices cold turkey is not a fun process to go through. 

(The only company he also got nowadays, was platonic in the form of the other demons inhabiting the hotel. And he for sure, was NOT going to ask any of them to ‘canoodle’. Whether they were single or not.) 

“Heya, Whiskers.” A male baritone voice with a Brooklyn-Italian accent greeted, as a familiar white and pink spider sinner entered the lobby. 

Husk glared as he put his bottle down and wiped his mouth, with his forearm. 

Angel Dust was one person in this hotel he wished he could avoid sometimes. 

Husk disliked the porn star’s over-eagerness to please, the constant dirty jokes, and always getting into his personal space to the point it almost bordered on sexual harassment. (Not to mention the late nights, when he came to the hotel from his job, limping, exhaustion washed over him like a blanket, and bruises that were carefully concealed. Seeing the spider sinner like that, took Husk back to his early years in hell. Reminded him of-)

“What do you want?” Husk growled, his voice rough with barely concealed hostility. As he gripped the underside of the countertop in a tight grip. He couldn’t think of her right now.

But Angel shook his head and grinned as he plopped himself into a barstool. “Nothing besides water for me right now, Husky.” He teased using the stupid nickname curated for him. 

Husk let out an annoyed huff but got out a new glass and filled it with water anyway before handing it to the arachnid. After he passed the drink, he leaned back against the liquor shelf behind him and stared at Angel. Contemplating. 

The bar area was silent for a full two minutes. An air of tension hovers between the two male sinners. And then Angel Dust spoke up. 

“Didya’ know we got a new guest?” He asked.

Husk raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t known that which was surprising for several reasons.

“Did we?” He replied, tone curious as he reached for his bottle again. “When?” 

This time instead of gulping down the drink, he took a small - but generous - sip. 

“Some time last night.” Angel Dust supplied with a shrug. “She knows Smiles though. They at least seemed to be acquainted with one another.”

Husk rolled his eyes and took another swig of his bottle. He really didn’t need to know any more of Alastor’s friends. Rosie and Niffty were special cases. Rosie because she was an old friend of his as well, and Niffty because…well, she was NIffty. 

Husk watched as Angel opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off when a mix of voices rounded the corner. 

“—and of course, we have the lobby area with the reception, lounge, and bar.” Charlie’s voice informed (who Husk guessed was) the newest hotel resident. 

Husk had just taken another swig of his drink, when Charlie rounded the corner with a large smile her arms extending wide, as she did a twirl while showing off the space. 

“Well,” an eerily familiar female voice spoke up. “The hotel is really…something.” 

Husk choked on his drink, causing him to splutter and cough in surprise. 

Four heads turned to look over at him. 

Charlie and Vaggie gazed at him in concern and confusion. 

Alastor in open mockery and amusement. 

And…the one face that haunted his dreams in pure, unadulterated hatred and shock. 

[busines-as-unusual]

Rosie taking a stroll with her tiny buddy, Tem, around Cannibal Town. Tem is totally saying something out of pocket.

Tem is my oc from my fic Business as Unusual.

[circusmania]

SIN Chapter 6

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Notes: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

⚠️ TW: Religion (Christianity) and manipulation at its finest ⚠️

♡

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I'm always going to be there,

Even if you don't want me to be.

That night was more so a blur, although I remember crying in Marcus's arms. I remember him softly brushing my hair as my tears poured down. Oh… Judy, Judy, Judy.

Saying your name sounds so foreign.

Going back to school was hard without her. I kept expecting her to run up to me or for me to wake up, but… I never did. All the promises we had made over the years still roll around in my head. Her voice keeps repeating itself over and over.

Omar's hand draped over my shoulder. We were all still grieving… Vanessa was sitting at my side as well. “Have they started planning her funeral yet?” Vanessa asked as she dabbed a napkin on her lower eyelid. “Don't know… I think her parents are making it a private funeral.” Omar replied.

“Oh… I see.” Vanessa's voice wavered. I couldn't blame her, I would've wanted to attend her funeral as well. However, I don't know if I could keep my tears from spilling if I see her again.

It hasn't been a long time since Judy's death, but the talks seem to have died down. Everyone has forgotten about her. No more staring or whispering when I walk through the halls. It all must seem like yesterday's news to them.

“How could they have forgotten her so easily?” I retorted.

“Must be all the disappearance that's been happening. People have learned to move on quickly.” Omar whispered, his hand still on my shoulder.

“Disappearances?” I stop.

How come I haven't heard of any disappearances? I swear I check the news daily, it couldn't have gone over my head.

“Yeah, disappearances. I think there's been 9 in total, and the police have been undergoing numerous investigations. Must be why they dismissed Judy's case so easily.” Vanessa slumped. Her eyes stayed on her used, crumpled napkin.

“But that's not right! Judy was pressured by the fucker who sent out that video!!” “It was a suicide, that's all they needed to know.” Omar sighed.

“Why are you two dismissing this so easily!? Don't you care about Judy?! Don't you want to know who took that video!?” I stood up abruptly.

Omar's hand slipped off my shoulder, and he and Vanessa exchanged a sorrowful look.

I can't believe them.

“We do care… it's just…”

“Just WHAT Omar!? Vanessa, Judy was your friend!”

Vanessa stayed quiet. She rubbed her arm and avoided eye contact.

“I think you should go out for a breath of fresh air.”

“What!? No! I'm letting this go, I-”

“Please…”

Why did Vanessa remind me so much of Judy?

I sighed and complied.

“Okay…”

I took my bag and walked off. Even if I had my back turned, I could still feel their burning stares from behind.

₊˚⊹♡ 🚶🚶‍♂️🚶‍♀️♡⊹˚₊

Maybe this is what I needed. I enjoy walking around town and seeing other people live their lives. They seem all so peaceful… It's crazy to think about the fact that there might be a killer on the loose that's causing all those disappearances. It could just as easily be a wild animal… maybe both.

I wonder why it hasn't been broadcasted on the news.

A sudden yell made me snap out of my thoughts. Not far from where I was heading was a man dressed in a white robe in front of a church. The local church was located far from the school and the park I came from. I must've been walking for some while now.

“Repent! Repent! The Lord is coming! He sees your sorrows! He sees all! Repent!”

What a nut job.

I walked closer, it seemed he was passing out Bibles and pamphlets. I walked close enough to catch his attention because in a moment his whole body turned towards me.

“Young man! Oh! The Lord has seen your cries! He listens and watches! Repent, and he'll save you from the claws of Satan!”

Alright, this man was good.

“Alright… uh… is there a sign-up sheet or-”

That made him chuckle.

“No, no son. Every Sunday come to our church, in fact, come whenever you please. Open your heart to God, and he'll save you from whatever grief and pain consumes you.”

He passed me a Bible and a pamphlet.

“Will do… uhm, my name is-”

“I know what your name is, son. The Lord has spoken to me through a dream, he told me to guide you and let you see the light.”

“Uh-huh…”

“My name is Father Pierre. If you have any questions, please, come see me.”

And with that, he turned and went back to yelling in the streets. I put the Bible in my bag and opened the pamphlet.

As I was walking back to Omar and Vanessa, reading through the pamphlet put my mind at ease.

A God who hears my cries and pleases.

A God who'll listen and save me.

I am in need of saving.

“Omar, Vanessa? I'm back.” They turned towards me with a small smile.

“Oh? Back so soon?” Vanessa smiled before noticing the pamphlet.

“What's that?” Omar shot me a glance.

“Oh, I've decided to join the church... or something. I think it'll be good for me to believe in something... have a little hope, you know?”

Vanessa and Omar looked as if they wanted to say something, but they were interrupted by a low voice speaking from behind me.

“You joined the church…?”

I turned around, and of course, it was Marcus.

“Oh, Marcus. Yeah, I have.”

Vanessa and Omar squirmed behind me, I could hear them whispering and imagine them sparing glancing between themselves and between Marcus and me.

“Christians are liars. They manipulate believers into thinking they're worshipping a God. But in reality…” He leaned in closer. “You're just worshipping them.”

“Uhm… like I said… I'm just giving it a shot.”

“You always just give it a shot,” Vanessa mumbled.

“What's that supposed-”

“Point is… I don't think it's good for you to put off all your problems on some God.” Omar interrupted.

“I'll be the judge of that.”

It was silent for a bit before Marcus spoke up.

“Who gave you these?”

I looked back at Marcus, and he was holding the pamphlet and the bible.

“How did you- … erm… It was Father Pierre… I think that's what his name was...”

Marcus, Vanessa, and Omar's faces shifted.

“I heard that he's crazy… people are conspiring that he's the one responsible for all the disappearances,” Vanessa said.

“What-”

“Not only that… he's known for being rather… touchy,” Omar added.

“How would you-”

“Not to mention, he has a past of perjury…” Marcus smiled.

“Stop it! It's my choice to make, not yours! Not too long ago, you two were so dismissive of Judy's death. Well, you two can grieve in whatever way you want! Just let me grieve my way.”

“It's not that… it's the church we have a problem with.” Vanessa advanced towards me with her hand on her chest.

Omar's eyebrows scrunched up, turning his face into a frown. He walked over to me before putting his arm around my shoulder. He turned us around and began walking away.

“Why don't you just sleep on it? It's been hard for you… well, all of us… People tend to go overboard when trying to crawl their way out of a ditch.”

“I know, Omar… but, nothing is set in stone yet. It's good to try new things.”

I stopped and so did Omar. He sighed before taking my hand in his; his thumb caressed my hand gently.

He leaned in and hugged me.

“Just be careful, okay? So many things are going on and… I'd hate for you to make a decision you'd wind up regretting later on.”

“Don't worry Omar. I'll be fine.”

“I hope so.”

He gave me one last smile before he left to go back to Vanessa.

I turned around, and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. Right across the street stood the church with Father Pierre out front. He wasn't wearing his white robe… more like a traditional priest robe. He waved at me, and I couldn't help but wave back.

He had such a gentle demeanour that I couldn't resist.

However, one thought throbbed in the back of my mind.

That church…

It moved.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Want to read ahead? Click here!

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

On Air [Chapter Three] Talk Shop [Alastor]

Warning(s): consumption of meat, original female character, deal-making, sealed with a kiss, mentions of murder, manipulation, mixed emotions, jealousy, OC is a serial killer.

Tag list (please let me know who'd like to be added): @dndmaniac

No Minors Allowed!!

Alastor was, in Aelia’s opinion, beyond her expectations. While she was daunted by his predatory smile, as he sauntered around the rustic-styled kitchen, she noted how dapper he was, not only in appearance. 

Each step he took was lively; from stirring the spices in a cast iron kettle, to expertly twirling his thin cane from one arm to the next as he cooked. Aelia was spellbound. But what made her feel this way?

She had never been fond of a man as much as she was of Alastor. His voice alone brought her comfort while she was alive and now that she had met him, Aelia was having a hard time controlling her urge to touch him. It drove her mad. 

What was it about him? His voice? His mannerisms? It was like her body and mind were in perfect sync; weak for him. And no matter how much she tried to steal herself, the temptation was too much. Aelia wondered if this was how an addict felt. 

Alastor certainly was not making matters easier for her with the sleeves of his bright red dress shirt rolled up to his elbows; he shed his pinstripe coat before he started to prep the kettle. 

Aelia took an uneasy breath and clutched the handle of a double-bevel knife tight in her hand. The vèvès on her wrist, she noted, were still glowing. Was this Alastor’s doing? Turning her eyes to him, she watched him stir the kettle as he hummed, standing with his back to her.

“Ah ah ah,” Alastor chided, waving his finger in the air. “It's not polite to stare, my dear.”

Aelia felt her face heat up. How did he know?

“Do you have eyes on the back of your head?”

“Perhaps,” Alastor answered with a wide grin. 

He was aware that Aelia had been on and off watching him since he ushered her into the kitchen. Whenever he would veer around to do something, her soft eyes would avert and she would return to the task he had given her of chopping green onions for a garnish.

Alastor turned and tucked his cane beneath his arm. The tilt of her brow, however, told him that Aelia was troubled. He leaned his head to the side in question.  

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“It's nothing,” Aelia lied. 

She did not want to tell the man she looked up to that she felt uncomfortable around him. 

“I insist that you don't do that,” Alastor stated. His voice sounded much clearer now, then with a buzz it went back to the same old-time radio tone he always spoke in. “Level with me.” 

Aelia swallowed the lump in her throat; her wings sank to the floor. 

“I feel…uneasy in this body. I'm not sure if it's me, or because of the symbols around my wrist. It was you who put them there, was it not?”

She was an astute one. Alastor smiled widely. Raising his arm, he snapped his fingers. The 

Alastor understood. With a wide grin, he snapped his fingers and the vèvès vanished. It was fine; he did not need them to be there anymore.

“How does that feel?”

Not any better, honestly. Aelia pouted. 

“It's me.”

Alastor guffawed, and an ensemble of laughter followed. Her discomfort was delightful. Sinking into his shadow, he reappeared behind her and caged her in between the counter. 

“Go on and sit down,” he ordered near her ear. Aelia shivered in response. Vanishing again, Alastor materialized on the other side of the counter. “I won't be long.” 

Was that necessary? Her body felt like a surge of electricity had coursed through it. Stepping back without a word, she strode from the kitchen to the dining room and did as Alastor had instructed. As she waited for him, she sat at a deco walnut table with an antler centerpiece. It was going to be hard to keep her composer. At least for the moment, she could breathe easier.

However, the air went stiff the moment Alastor strolled in.

Setting the plates down, he took a seat across from her and then snapped his fingers. A set of silverware appeared on the table and the candles lining the centerpiece lit with a green supernatural glow. 

Aelia waited for Alastor to start before she dug in, humming in delight as the spices invaded her taste buds.

“This is delicious.”

“It was my mother’s recipe,” Alastor retorted with pride.

Mostly. In his serving, he left the meat uncooked as per usual. It is how he liked it.

Aelia swallowed a bite of rice. She had never had Jambalaya before. Despite its spicy flavor, she rather liked it. 

For the next 30 minutes, the two ate in silence. Then, once Alastor was full, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and picked up his cane. 

“Now we can talk shop.” 

Aelia raised a curious brow and sat her fork down. What sort of business did he want to talk to her about?

“You mean your plans for me.”

Alastor grinned.

“Yes…well we shall see how this partnership pans out. First, it's a matter of an agreement.”

An agreement. What did he mean? Aelia watched as Alastor stood and strolled over to her. 

“There is something you owe me; a small fee.”

Aelia felt faint. At the time, she did not realize what Alastor had wanted in return for her favor, but now that she was in Hell, she realized just who the man in front of her was. 

He says ‘small fee’ as though it is just that. 

“You’re a demon, aren't you?”

The smile on his face widened and from over his shoulder materialized a sinister-looking shadow.

“That is astute of you, my dear.”

“It makes sense,” Aelia admitted. Her wings sunk to the floor. “No angel asks someone to kill for them.”

She did not think much of it at first. The people she killed deserved it; child abusers and murderers. In the end, though, she was also a murderer and wound up in Hell for her actions. 

“I owe you my soul.”

Alastor clapped, taking her off guard. 

“Delightful. Your soul you do officially owe me but I must say, you went beyond expectations for me, my dear, and for that, I will offer you a stipulation. Either way, you are mine.” 

Aelia felt her heart race. She wasn't certain if it was because he was being lenient with her, or because he claimed her as his own, but she was grateful.

“What will become of my soul?”

Alastor leaned his cane forward and tapped her head with it. 

“Nothing, so long as you follow my words.” 

He spun the cane around and shoved it into her face. The single eye on the microphone blinked and then spoke. 

“What do you say?”

Aelia was in shock. 

“Um…I–”

“Don't forget your stipulation,” Alastor reminded her. 

A stipulation. What could she ask for? Aelia tightened her jaw. She already got what she wanted; freedom from her tragic life.

“I just want to be with you…to stand with you.”

Alastor smiled wide. This could not have gone better in his opinion. Twirling his cane, he tucked it beneath her chin. The light around them tinted to an ethereal green. 

“Do we have a deal?”

Aelia shook her head, and then to her shock, Alastor stepped forward and pressed his lips against hers. She trembled in elation, then closed her eyes, unaware that a glowing green chain had materialized around her neck, and then faded. Her mind was much too occupied. Not able to control her urge to taste him, she tried to deepen the kiss, but Alastor pulled away.

“The bank’s closed, bèt kay (pet).”

It would be in her best interest not to do that again.

Aelia apologized in shame. She felt a bit dirty. 

Alastor took her napkin and dabbed his mouth with it, then tucked his cane beneath his arm.

“Come along, there is something I want to show you.”

Aelia stood and walked close behind Alastor as he led her through the living room to a studio of sorts. Upon further investigation, she realized that it was a broadcast booth. Was this how Alastor contacted her? 

Sitting on a plush couch, he handed her a sheet of paper, encouraging her with a wave of his hand to read it. A list of names was elegantly scribbled down, some with marks through them and some with crude nicknames. Whoever Vox was, the clout-chasing mediocre video podcast, Alastor cared little for. 

There was, however, a familiar name on the list.

“Miss Rosie is on here.” 

Alastor hummed.

“Those are the names of Overlords, powerful Demons that reside in Pentagram City. I too am one, you see.”

Was he? Aelia widened her eyes. 

“And the names that are marked out?”

“Finished off,” Alastor answered with a sinister smile. The gleam in his eyes insinuated that he had something to do with them.

But why? 

“They couldn't have been easy to kill,” Aelia stated. 

Alastor hummed, shrugging his shoulders as though it was no problem. 

“Overlords are as only strong as the number of souls they own. We make deals with the sinners who reside in Hell and in some cases, humans.” 

That was no easy feat, however. In Aelia’s case, he could not leave Hell, so he had to coax her into doing as he asked. The radio was a long shot, but due to it being an antique from his time, in addition to it belonging to him while he was alive, he was able to contact her. The turn of events surprised even him. 

A twinge of jealousy overtook Aelia. She did not understand what came over her.  

“I reckon based on your strength that I am not the first human you have made a deal with.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. 

“You are the first, bèt kay (pet) whose soul I have not torn apart and broadcasted on my radio broadcast. But that can change, so be respectful of the rules.” 

Aelia paled. She was not aware.

“Yes sir.”

“In any case,” Alastor furthered. “There is a series of projects I am passionate about. It's time to initiate them, and the first involves you.”

Her. Aelia felt a bit uneasy. Her wings sank to the floor.

“Does it involve the names on this list?”

“Perhaps.” Alastor paused to pluck the list from her hand. “But we can sweat the details tomorrow on our outing. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a welcome back broadcast to rehearse.”

Aelia perked up. She did not want to nag him, but honestly, she did not want to leave his side either. 

“May I listen?”

Alastor widened his eyes in pride. He knew there was a reason he favored Aelia. Whether it be because she adored him or because she found his discussions tasteful, she did not dismiss him. 

“Sit, and if you value your soul, you will not make a sound.”

Aelia was ecstatic. Her wings lifted and spread as she closed her mouth and pretended to lock them. She made herself comfortable beside Alastor and watched him fondly as he prepared. 

This was something he was passionate about and she was more than eager to share this moment with him.

[alastorsdemonbelle]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s), Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel) Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Original Female Character(s), Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Husk (Hazbin Hotel) Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Smut, Control, Manipulation, Non-Canon Relationship, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Slow Burn, Does anyone read these, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Marking, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, cant think of any more tags

Decided to make a little post I made into real fanfiction. I hope that there will be some of you interested to read it. For contest, it’s Alastor x female Oc.

[ceafighter]

(Y/n) didn't even say thank you 😔

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchantée, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchantée, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[melodyonthewireless]

[writing-cins]

𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐎𝐓𝐏 - 𝐑𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I’ve been shipping my OC Mara with Alastor ever since I joined the Hazbin fandom, and over time, their story has grown into a detailed lore.

There are two AUs where I ship them. The first is a Human AU, which covers their full story from life to afterlife. The second is a Hell AU, where they meet for the first time after their deaths. I mostly use the Hell AU for short stories and drabbles that often contradict each other. It's just for fun and doesn’t have lore as developed as the Human AU. Everything I post about this ship or my OC takes place in one of these two AUs.

Mara and Alastor first met while they were alive. Mara was a singer at a local jazz club in New Orleans, which drew the attention of Alastor, the city’s most popular and renowned radio host. Long story short, they fell in love, got "married"*, and after dying some time apart, both were dragged to Hell. They spent a long time searching for each other until they finally reunited. Not only defying the concept of ’Til death do us part’ but also to make their marriage finally officially on paper*, they remarried soon after and since then spend their afterlives together.

Mara and Alastor are both similar and completely different from each other, balancing each other out perfectly. You can imagine the shocked faces when Alastor introduced her to the other hotel residents. The Radio Demon? Married? To such a beautiful and kind woman? What sounds like a bad joke at first soon develops into a surprising dynamic, with Mara keeping Alastor at bay while she supports the Princess of Hell in her ambitious project. At the hotel, she finds a new home where she shares a space not only with her beloved husband (who's been away for seven long years) but also with a group of chaotic sinners who quickly take a special place in her heart.

Mara means a lot to me. She isn’t a self-insert, but she’s a multifaceted character with traits that might surprise you but that also reflect some of my own. May it be hobbies, personality traits, quirks or music taste...

Given how much her and Alastor’s story has evolved, I’m considering creating a long-fic that portrays their love story from life to death.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

*Due to Louisiana’s anti-miscegenation laws, interracial marriages were illegal until 1967, meaning couples faced severe legal and social consequences: criminal charges, fines, imprisonment, or forced annulments. The only way for a non-white person to avoid these discriminatory laws was to "pass as white," which besides having a "white" appearance, also means hiding their background to present a white public image. But I don’t want that for Alastor.

While we know little about his human life or appearance, I don’t want him to "pass as white", as it would erase the significance of his Creole heritage, reducing it to a convenient plot point without truly honoring his cultural identity. I don't want his identity as Creole to feel like an excuse to explain away a privileged existence, while still allowing him to draw on specific cultural ties. Instead, I like to imagine him with dark brown, wavy hair, brown eyes, and naturally tanned skin – especially since nothing is canon yet.

This means that Mara and Alastor, as an interracial couple, either had to marry out of state or informally within Alastor’s Creole community. But since these unions weren't recognized by Louisiana law, I refer to them as "married" rather than legally married. In Hell, they re-enacted their wedding not only to defy the standard of "til death do us part" but to finally make it official on paper. Even if that means exchanging rings a second time.

[nkirukaj]

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe

Hey y'all! I love writing fics and I love making OCs! So, please enjoy this Hazbin Hotel fanfiction as well!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing and depictions of violence?

Genre: Angst?

Word Count: 2.1K

1. Welcome to Hell

She had never fallen for anything as hard as she fell into Hell. Free falling however many feet only to face plant into a concrete barren street is not how she imagined her day starting. Was this the start of her day? What had she been doing before this? Certainly not jumping off a building or out of a plane. She stood slowly, many loud sounds abound while she reached for her now shattered glasses, before realizing that without them, her vision was perfect. 

“What the fuck?” She blinked once, then twice, then 15 more times before she concluded that her vision was finally 20/20. Clear enough to see the crimson sky above her, all the buildings around the same shade of red. Some roads cracked and broken even more than a neglected Brooklyn neighborhood. Suddenly, the sound of an approaching car broke her out of her trance, and she jumped out of the way, barely avoiding getting hit. 

“Get the fuck outta the road ya stupid bitch!!”

Instantly her middle finger was up and she was shouting right back “Fuck you, ya decrepit piece of shit! I do what I fucking want!!!” Well, she didn’t want to be standing here in the middle of an unfamiliar street, but nobody told her what to do. She could’ve left her frames in the middle of the street where they’d landed, but without thinking she placed them in her pocket. She wasn’t going to get any answers just standing in this one spot, so she started walking. The red in the air had to be due to terrible air quality, but she could breathe just fine. 

It was a very strange adjustment, being able to see clearly without her glasses, she kept reaching to push them up on her nose, only to realize every time that they weren’t there. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, but the sounds of a city were growing louder as she kept on in this direction. City sounds she knew well from living in the Big Apple. 

There were many others scattered around, none of them looking quite human. Some had human-looking bodies with inhuman additives and some were just straight-up nonhuman, be they animals or monsters for lack of a better term. The buildings were bright and the people were loud, adding to the TVs in windows and the cars, trucks, and buses all running concurrently. Denizens fighting and screaming, tearing up roads and buildings as she walked aimlessly in the same direction. The building lights grew brighter as the noise levels built up. Everything was so much louder than usual, she had become accustomed to complex noise, but these made their way through her ears, down her spine, and into her stomach. She didn’t have her headphones, she’d left them at home. 

She bent over and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself enough to keep walking, at least enough to get away from this noise, but she was caught in the middle of it. The last building she saw was a large tower with glass windows all around it, and the tall letters “vVv” plastered on it for all to see, before she crouched down, feeling physically sick from the commotion. 

That is until she felt arms dragging her up. Her eyes shot open, to see some beings that looked a lot like sentient hyenas dragging her away from the busy streets. Their touch was wildly uncomfortable, not only because they were strangers, but because their appendages were digging into her skin quite painfully. She tried to stand and hold her weight, but the way she was building held did not allow it. She began squirming to get loose, the restriction of her body movement and the vast amount of sound combined to make a very unpleasant experience in her body. 

“Stop squirming, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

She started kicking and squirming even harder, as though she was trying to escape her own body. 

“Hey! Stop moving!” Yelled another directly into her ear “Grab her legs” he spoke to another. When they went to grab her, she let out an inhuman screech, startling her would-be attackers into letting her arms go. When they attempt to recapture her, she lets out all the pressure built up in her chest, screaming at the top of her lungs. Out of her mouth came blazing flames hitting the faces of her would-be captors, screaming until she couldn’t scream anymore.

When she finally opened her eyes, the entire area was now engulfed in flames. It didn’t seem too out of place with the rest of the streets. The charred corpses of the hyenas were all around her on the ground, still flaming. She stood there and caught her breath. Once she was able to breathe steadily, she finally looked up at the sky. Standing in full sight of anyone who happened to look up, was a casino-like sign, reading “Welcome to Hell”.

______________________________________________________________

Hell? Like the place, Christians are always screaming about? This is what they were all afraid of? It looked like an ungoverned city. Broken windows, trash on fire, broken-up roads, dead bodies strewn all over the place. Falling lampposts, guts all about the streets. People killing each other all over, while she just walked right on by. There were many large buildings like skyscrapers clearly in view as if the wealthy were flaunting over the regulars. The majority of the light in the city came from these towers and buildings. Their area was cleaner and sleeker, more modern.  The class distinction was obvious. Like it wanted to be near them, but not part of them.

So if she was in Hell, were these demons? Was she a demon? Why was she in Hell? She couldn’t think of anything she had done in life that would get her sent down here. Was this even real? She knew when she was dreaming, and this felt like real life. She was still a bit in shock about the fire that came out of her mouth, but at this point, she was running on adrenaline, her legs carrying her somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. She starts playing with her fingers and staring at all the lights. The brightest lights surrounded a large billboard reading, “You Are Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” with directions listed at the bottom. The words were next to a picture of what she guessed was a demon girl, with a white face, red circles on her cheek, and a long ponytail that went down her back. She cocked her head at the sight, the demoness’s face was quite striking and burned itself into her memory. 

The building was in the middle of nowhere. She had to take about 10 breaks just to get there. In front of the building was a large pentagram and the hotel itself was propped up on a hill. After 4 more breaks just to climb the hill, she reached the door. She wondered why the hotel had a marquee. She knocked once quietly, then thought for a moment and knocked again, louder. The demoness that was on the billboard was the one that opened the door.

“Awww you are so cute.” The blonde demon cooed over her appearance 

“I know right?” She brightened up at the compliment

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Charlie! And this is my girlfriend Vaggie!” She gestures to another woman who walks up to the door with grayish-purple skin, long hair, a bow, a large spear, and an eyepatch over her left eye. 

“Okay, so I have a question,”

“Yes?” Charlie bats her large eyes

“This is Hell? Like, I am in Hell? Like the place Bible thumpers are always telling everyone else that they’re going? Like, fire and brimstone, eternal punishment for sinners? That Hell?”

“Yes.” Charlie’s smile doesn’t falter, she looks quite pleased 

“And I am here because…?”

“Well…chances are that you’re here because you’re a sinner. Meaning you did something wrong in your life. Unless you’re a fallen angel, but I think you would know if you were.”

“Is it possible that there was some sort of mistake? Because I was awesome.” 

Charlie and Vaggie look at each other, unsure of how to answer the question. “Um I don’t think there’s ever been a mistake,” Charlie responds, unsure. She looks off to think about it.

“First things first,” Vaggie spoke sternly “Our mission is very important to us, so do you plan on staying here or not? If you are, that means that you are agreeing to do your best to be redeemed. Which includes daily lesson plans, trust exercises, interacting with other guests and staff as well as doing your part around here. Do you accept?”

She squints in confusion “Why is all that necessary?”

“Because!” Charlie piped up, back from her existential thoughts “We believe that it’s easier to make strides towards redemption when you feel like part of a community! Usually, we suggest that each new guest finds another guest that they’re similar to. Although that may be difficult for you.” She strokes her chin “I don’t think we have any other guests that are deer.”

“Wait what?” She breaks up Charlie’s thoughts “What do you mean?”

“Well, when building a community, it’s easier to start small-“

“No! I mean like…other deer? What do you mean by other deer? Who’s a deer?”

Charlie glances at her girlfriend to make sure she’s seeing the same thing as her. “Um..you are,” Vaggie informs her

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other before parting to let her in the hotel. There’s a large mirror in the common room wall, she approaches and looks in it; unable to comprehend what she sees. The first thing she noticed was that her dark locks were now fiery red curls. Her nose was black and the holes were larger, her lips were two different colors; the top one black and the bottom one pink. Her face was slightly more angular, with white spots all over, and two big brown deer ears sat atop her cranium. And her irises were now a deep blood red. 

She stared at her reflection, with no sound or movement. Other guests were passing by as if she was strange. Charlie stood behind her, she could tell she was getting worried, stepping out to approach the doe, but Vaggie put an arm out to stop her. She slowly reaches up to touch her face, to make sure that what she was seeing was real. She opened her mouth to speak, seeing four fangs, two on each of the sides of her mouth. She picked at them for about 5 minutes straight. They were real too. This was all real. She was a deer, specifically, a doe. 

Vaggie cleared her throat, “Don’t forget um…on the back.”

She turned her head to see what she was referring to and shot Vaggie a confused stare. Vaggie took her by the shoulders, causing her to flinch. Vaggie retreated a bit before slowly replacing her hands on the doe’s shoulders, turning her backside towards the mirror, bringing to her attention, a tail. Brown on top, white on the bottom. She looked back towards the girlfriends. 

“It can be a big shock,” Charlie looked apologetic “but at least you’re adorable!”

She turns back to the mirror, looking at herself once more, then turning back to them. 

“Yeah, I guess I am cute.” She states bluntly

She backed herself up, hitting something hard and solid. She finds herself frozen for a moment before feeling a slight weight on either side of her. Long, slender, and sharp red fingers covered her shoulders, holding her up from falling backward. She steps forward and turns to see who they belong to. She was greeted by the sight of an extremely tall demon, with a fancy red coat, a cane with a microphone on it, and red hair with black tips, that gathered on top of his head in a similar shape as the ears she had on her head. A large grin took up the majority of his face and his bright red eyes were quite a sight to behold. She stared, unable to form words at the moment, and his grin got even wider before he spoke. 

“Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart.“ he takes her in, noticing her form, ears, and face. He hadn’t seen another deer down here before. Quite interesting to say the least. He brings an arm from behind his back, takes her hand, and pulls it up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. “Quite…a pleasure.”

Chapter 2>

[voethebeau]

Waiting for Alastor to finish cooking

gif by: @starlightsacrifice