#crimsondeer

[fanficsfreeideas]

Crimson Deer

Chapter 15

Mammon reclined in his office, surrounded by stacks of cinnamon rolls—the gooey, sugary indulgence that fueled his every whim. Boxes towered around him like sugary fortresses. Even with over 350 boxes left, Mammon gazed at the diminishing pile with a mixture of exaggerated worry and annoyance.

As he lazily picked up another gooey roll, his golden eyes gleaming with delight as he took a bite. "Fizzarolli!" Mammon barked, his voice carrying through the air with a strong Aussie twang.

"Get me more of my cinnamon rolls! And while you're at it, invite the owner of that café to Loo Loo World. I want to meet them." With a careless flick of his wrist, Mammon tossed a handful of golden VIP tickets toward Fizzarolli, who barely caught them with a flustered look on his face.

Fizzarolli hesitated, "Eh, Mammon... about that," he started, nervously scratching the back of his head. “You might not be able to meet 'em right away." Mammon’s eyes snapped toward Fizzarolli, mid-chew, a hint of danger simmering in his glare. "What are you on about, mate?"

Fizzarolli, sweating now, shifted uneasily. "The café burned down a few days ago. His boyfriend tried to make him breakfast and...” “It, uh, didn’t go well."

Mammon froze, the cinnamon roll in his hand slowly lowering. Mammon's chair creaked as he shot up from it, his imposing presence filling the room. "WHAT?!" The shout rattled the room, making Fizzarolli flinch and immediately take a step back, hands up in defense.

"The café’s being’ rebuilt," Fizzarolli rushed to explain. "But the workers—well, some of the workers aren’t cooperating since... well, Crimson’s not around to manage them." He nervously scratched the back of his head. "And his man’s busy keeping watch on Alastor, so they haven’t noticed that Alastor’s been getting disrespected."

Mammon’s golden gaze narrowed into slits, his lips curling into a sharp grin. "Crimson? My surly-looking’ mafioso imp? And he’s dating that cute café owner?" He let out a deep chuckle. "Oh, that’s bloody rich."

Fizzarolli nodded, unable to meet Mammon’s glare. "Yep. And from what I hear, Alastor doesn’t even know who Crimson really is. Doesn’t have a clue he’s dating the don of the mafia." Mammon leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he processed the news, a grin forming on Mammon's face. "Oh, this just gets better. And the workers are giving my cinnamon roll maker a hard time, huh?"

Fizzarolli paused, clearly uncomfortable, before nodding. "Yep," Fizzarolli confirmed. "Slowing down the rebuild, disrespecting him... It’s a mess."

Mammon leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop. His grin turned razor-sharp, eyes glinting with a dangerous light that made Fizzarolli shiver. "Right,"

Mammon said, voice low and full of intent. "I owe Crimson a favor or two anyway. Let’s sort this mess out. I’ll have that café fixed by tonight. The workers?" His tone dropped to a menacing growl. "They’re going to wish they never crossed me."

Fizzarolli hesitated, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, one more thing, boss. Lucifer called; he's not happy." Mammon raised an eyebrow, the edges of his smile faltering. "Why?"

Fizzarolli shifted uncomfortably. "It’s about Crimson’s men. They’ve been... uh, going on a killing’ spree in Pride." He wants you to do something.

Mammon leaned forward, the tension in the room thickening. "What for?" Fizzarolli gulped. "Seems some overlord tried to, y’know..." He hesitated, then quickly blurted it out. "Force himself on Alastor. Crimson’s men are cleaning’ house after the overlord also nearly killed him when he protected Princess Charlie."

Mammon’s grin faded entirely, his expression hardening into an icy calm. He stared past Fizzarolli, his mind clearly racing. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet but laced with steel. "Lucifer sent me that sinner... because of his bloody ex-wife. Never once mentioned he was nearly raped." His claws tapped rhythmically on the desk as his gaze sharpened.

"So Crimson’s tying up loose ends, huh?" Fizzarolli nodded quickly. "Yeah, boss. But Lucifer’s pissed. He’s saying the sinner—Alastor—still belongs to him, that he just let him live in Greed for a fresh start. But I think he’s just mad the guy’s doin’ well for himself now."

Mammon let out a bark of laughter, sharp and bitter, waving a dismissive hand. "Belongs to him? Lucifer can shove it. That sinner, his café, and those cinnamon rolls belong to me now. The very day Lucifer sent that sinner into my ring, his ownership changed hands." His grin returned, wicked and feral. "He rightfully belongs to Greed."

Fizzarolli swallowed audibly. "Right, boss. But Lucifer’s not going to see it that way." “That day I told Lucifer if that sinner enters my ring, he belongs to me; he will have no claim on him any longer.” Mammon eats another cinnamon roll. before also adding that what Crimson’s imps do is none of Lucifer’s damn business, imps can move around any rings.

Mammon's tone darkened. "Lucifer can cry about it all he wants. Crimson’s men haven’t touched a royal, haven’t hurt anyone who matters. Until then, Lucifer needs to shut his bitch mouth." His voice darkened further, a low rumble that reverberated through the room. "If those bastards had touched a royal, maybe he’d have a reason to complain. But they didn’t.

So he can keep his nose out of my imp’s business and needs to stop being a whiny bitch."

Fizzarolli sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "So... telling Lucifer off is part of the favour, yeah?" Mammon leaned back, laughing heartily, his Aussie lilt as strong as ever. "Nah, mate. That’s on the house. Consider it a wedding gift for Crimson!"

Fizzarolli muttered under his breath, shaking his head as Mammon’s laughter boomed through the room. "Yeah, sure. A wedding gift. Of course." He knew Mammon would take any opportunity to tell his little brother off. Mammon popped another cinnamon roll into his mouth, chewing contentedly. Then, without warning, he stood, brushing crumbs from his jacket. "Right," he announced. "I’m ready to go."

Fizzarolli blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, now? You want to go to the café now?"

Mammon shot him a toothy grin. "Of course I do, mate. Time to fix this mess and remind everyone who they’re dealin’ with." Fizzarolli groaned but followed, already regretting whatever chaos they were about to unleash.

[libidomechanica]

Breathe, with colds the flagrant crimsond all

He laid enchanted Argus, spied. And suddenly disdainfully pleasure; to meet the flames object of mine o’ th’ Sea, sudden tree. Then Piers, of friends remember: the slushy sand. It has no blemish, but did refrain because he knew he was numb place, what raw and round; one groans, and within my arm, and aver and bear; why wardrobe, think her Lip. The landward shows the season scanned, above only said, and half appeare: what they been to my skin, beams were shut in wonder. She only rise, with cheerful god of love; or if they entered owre the winds woke the fools enjoys his Dominion Strong.

[dude-of-electricity]

[muffinlance]

Scout Li by CrimsonDeer

All Li knows is that he woke up in the back of a cart with a kid he is strangely protective of with no name or past. Luckily the kid knew him at least and now he's in the Earth Kingdom Army. More like, forced himself into it but tomato tomahto. All he knows is that he feels strangely at peace being in the army, being a scout. Now, if only these people would stop calling him Zuko and stop telling Captain lies then everything could go back to normal. His new normal at least.

Read on AO3

[sirobvious]

Just watchd Crimson Peak with my girlfriend and the male lead was recognizable as Tom Hiddlestone the same dude who plays Loki in the God-awful Thor movies and all I could think about the whole time was the fucking girls out here flickin the bean to Thom Hiddlson all day like “oh i want loki to turn into a horse and crawl inside my vagina imagine you go on a walk and om Hidfleston walksa up to you and says ‘i like your shoelaces’ and you say back to him ‘thanks i got them from the president’ and then you share a passionate kiss i want tim Hisldld to drip the oil from his oily hair down my shirt” and then there was this super long uncomfortable sex scene and it felt like getting hit by a fucking TRUCk even though I actually kinda knew it was coming because when I was looking up the movie to find the best way to watch it online, the first search resylt on google was “Crimson Peak sex scene” which came before even “Crimsond Peak watch online” which means that these fuckong girls were feverishly googling this every day just so they could see loki’s oily ass move up and down for like a whole minute every day when they got home from middle school that’s not something i deserve

[defnot-naurr]

I just finished making some 'real-life-kind-thingy' portraits of the characters of the book I am writing and yeah...here's what I got-

#the main character #also the narrator #younger sunrise sister #main protagonist

#the princess of Mikellar #side-main character

#also a side character #please don't think I am weird

#Kyra's sister #kinda main character #elder sunrise sister

#extra character #the Last Crimsond

#main antagonist #most silent ruler of Mikellar

My book is ongoing but if you wish to read it, then feel free to check it out on Wattpad.

It's a fantasy-action genre book and here are some tags on it:-

#naturecore #cottagecore #futuristic #thrilling #adventure-filled

[thegeekburger]

@crimsondive this is literally you, bro lmao

[nekoamichan-blog]

Last year around the holidays I met this man at my store. He was a transfer from NYC and I'm so glad he's here. His sass and class are never ending and I'm privileged to know him. My world would be a bit more quiet without him ;) @crimsondeity 💖🏳️‍🌈💖 @sephorapentagoncity #lgbtq #lovewins #sephorasiblings #allsassallclass #makeupjunkie #sephora #pencityfamily #pcity #latergram #blonde #pale #gothgirl

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 14

Crimson’s eyes fluttered open to the soft sound of snores above him. His face was buried in Alastor’s fluffy chest, and he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Somehow, during the night, his deer had found his way back on top of him, despite Crimson carefully moving him aside earlier. Gently, Crimson shifted Alastor, intending to lay him back down, but the action earned a soft, bleating noise that made him pause.

Smirking, Crimson muttered under his breath, “So, my deer really does have deer-like tendencies.” He made a mental note to research it later.

Pulling Alastor close into a gentle hug, Crimson whispered, “I’ve got to be leaving soon, deer. And you’ve got to get ready to open your café… unless you’d rather spend the day in my office, being my cute assistant. I could even get you a little slutty office worker dress. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Still half-asleep, Alastor murmured a soft, “Yes.” Crimson chuckled, brushing a kiss against Alastor’s lips. “Deer, are you even awake?” A sleepy “No” came the answer, making Crimson grin. Mischief lit his eyes as he quietly began recording their interaction on his phone.

“Alright, Deer,” Crimson teased, amusement clear in his voice. “should the dress come with a thong or no thong?” “Thong,” Alastor mumbled, still lost in sleep. Crimson snorted with laughter. “I could get you to agree to anything in your sleep, couldn’t I?” “Yes,” Alastor murmured softly. Crimson’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his voice taking on a playful edge.

“I want your lips around my cock while I do paperwork. Will you do that for me?” “...Yes,” Alastor murmured, completely unaware of himself. Crimson snorted, his chest shaking with laughter. “You’re far too agreeable while asleep, Alastor.”

His expression softened as he pulled Alastor closer into his arms. Alastor nuzzled his face into Crimson's chest, finding comfort and security in his embrace. As they lay in bed together, Crimson whispered one last question, his voice full of protectiveness and possessiveness: "Alastor, once we are married, do you want me to protect you and Niffty from anyone who dares to harm you? I promise to keep you both safe."

In his sleep, Alastor murmured a quiet "Yes." Crimson's eyes lit up with satisfaction. He pressed a gentle kiss to Alastor's forehead before carefully laying him back down and slipping out of bed. Deciding to surprise Alastor with breakfast, Crimson headed to the kitchen. How hard could eggs and toast be? he thought to himself. Moments later, as smoke billowed through the house/café and flames began licking around him, he realized he’d grossly overestimated his culinary skills.

“Damn it!” Crimson cursed, racing upstairs. Without hesitation, he scooped a still-sleeping Alastor into his arms—blanket and all—and carried him out of the smoky chaos. By the time Crimson’s men arrived to put out the fire, Alastor was groggily waking up. Blinking a few times, his eyes took in his surroundings. To his surprise, he was sitting in Crimson’s lap—in the man’s office, no less.

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice thick with sleep, “what happened?” Crimson grimaced, clearly embarrassed. “I… tried to make you breakfast. And I may have… accidentally started a fire.”

Alastor blinked again, processing his lover’s words. “You what?” Crimson tightened his hold on him, his voice softening. “Alastor, it’s best you don’t look. The fire… it’s still going.”

Alastor’s ears drooped as realization dawned. “My café is burning down right now, isn’t it?” Crimson winced. “Yes.”

“And I’m naked,” Alastor added, glancing down at himself wrapped in just a blanket. “I’m sorry, Alastor,” Crimson said earnestly, his eyes filled with guilt. “I’ll fix it. I’ll replace everything.” Alastor sighed, torn between frustration and the visible regret on Crimson’s face. After a long pause, he finally said, “Darling, never, ever cook again. Leave that to me.” Crimson raised an eyebrow, his amusement returning as he watched Alastor’s ears twitch nervously.

“In fact,” Alastor continued, “I’ll handle all the housework. You’re clearly better suited to your paperwork and… whatever it is you do at work. I’ll be the housewife, and you can be my husband.” Both of their eyes widened at his words, the weight of what he’d just implied hitting them simultaneously. Crimson smirked, leaning in closer. “I agree, deer. You’d make the perfect housewife, and I can be your husband.”

Outside the office door, Moxxie, Loona, and Niffty exchanged bewildered glances as they overheard everything. Moxxie stifled a laugh as he whispered, “Well, guess they’ve got it all figured out.” With a collective shrug, the trio decided to leave the lovebirds alone, retreating with knowing smiles.

Back in the office, the chaos of the morning seemed to fade into obscurity as Crimson pulled Alastor closer into his arms. Alastor perched delicately in his lap, their bodies pressed together in a fiery embrace. Their lips met in a deep and passionate kiss, sending waves of longing and regret coursing through Crimson's body.

As their kiss intensified, all tension melted away and was replaced by an overwhelming passion. In that moment, the flames of their love burned even brighter than the fire that had ravaged Alastor's beloved café. Lost in their own world, Crimson and Alastor found solace in each other's arms, shutting out the chaotic outside world and basking in the warmth of their love.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 13

Crimson watched how Alastor slowly undid his shirt buttons one by one, with a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he watched Crimson watch him. Their breathing quickened as they stared at each other, the tension between them almost tangible. In a husky voice, Alastor asked how long Crimson had desired him. Crimson couldn't help but stare at the way Alastor's soft curls fell around his face, framing his features perfectly.

"My deer," Crimson replied, "I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you." As Alastor finished unbuttoning Crimson's shirt and kissed his neck, he gently ran his hand over some scars on Crimson's body. Alastor smiled, whispering, “I love you, darling,” against Crimson's skin.

Meanwhile, Crimson reached out to slowly undo the buttons of Alastor's vest and then shirt, relishing in the feeling of Alastor's skin against his fingertips. As Alastor continued kissing his neck with fervent passion, Crimson traced a scar above his nipple and pulled him closer to place a kiss above his heart, where another scar lay.

The moment was filled with intense emotions and unspoken words as they explored each other's bodies, discovering new scars and sharing tender kisses along the way. If the knife had been slightly lower, Alastor may not have survived, but he was here now, lying in front of Crimson, exposed and vulnerable.

As Alastor's eyes widened and then closed in pleasure, he gasped as Crimson lowered him onto the bed and unzipped his pants. "Darling, I'm not one for romance; it's never been my thing," Crimson said with a chuckle. "But I want to shower you with whatever affection I can offer." Alastor laughed in response.

"Don't worry, I love your sour face and grumpy attitude. It only makes your affection for me even more special." Despite not being a romantic person, Crimson adored his deer deeply and wanted to express it in every way possible. He trailed his fingers along Alastor's cock, admiring its cuteness just like the rest of him.

As Alastor's breaths became more rapid and his chest heaved with desire, Crimson continued to show him affection by petting and stroking him. When pre-cum began to drip from Alastor's arousal, Crimson smirked and stopped his ministrations, causing Alastor to whine in frustration before begging for more. With a kiss to Alastor's lips, Crimson slowly removed his own pants, teasing Alastor with the promise of a passionate night ahead.

As he climbed onto the bed, Crimson placed Alastor's legs over his shoulders, causing Alastor to watch with bated breath. Instead of resuming his previous actions, Crimson surprised Alastor with skilled and precise exploration of his deepest desires, sending waves of pleasure through his body while holding onto his hips. As their passion grew, Crimson couldn't help but admire Alastor's size—or lack thereof—commenting on its cuteness before taking it in his hand and teasing it with delicate strokes.

Crimson's fingers danced across Alastor's skin, bringing him closer and closer to release until he was begging for it. Without hesitation, Crimson took Alastor in his mouth, moving his head in a slow rhythm as he moaned in pleasure. Finally, Alastor reached climax, and Crimson eagerly welcomed it into his mouth, savoring every drop with a satisfied smile on his lips.

As Alastor's mind cleared from the intense pleasure, he opened his eyes to see Crimson greedily licking his lips. With a mischievous grin, Crimson slowly licked around Alastor's now flaccid member and purred, "Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?" Alastor blushed deeply, feeling vulnerable in that moment, completely under Crimson's control.

As Crimson carefully lowered Alastor's legs back onto the bed, he whispered eagerly into Alastor's ear, his body trembling with anticipation. He lay back, offering himself up to Alastor and eagerly waiting for him to return the favor. With a deep flush on his cheeks, Alastor couldn't help but notice how well-endowed Crimson was despite his small stature.

But he bravely crawled over to him, placing a hand on his chest before trailing kisses down his torso. Suddenly, Crimson let out a pleasured moan as Alastor climbed into his lap and started grinding against his throbbing cock with slow, deliberate movements that elicited guttural moans of pleasure from both men.

The sensation sent electric shocks through their bodies as they moved in perfect rhythm. Crimson couldn't take his eyes off of Alastor, mesmerized by the beauty and skill with which he moved. His lips parted in soft moans of ecstasy, and his hair bounced as he blushed a cute shade of red, whispering Crimson's name over and over again. As their hips met in perfect harmony, Crimson reached up and grabbed onto Alastor's hips tightly, grunting louder with each movement.

He hadn't fully entered him yet. Crimson wrapped his tail around Alastor while Alastor gasped in shock. "Not yet, my pretty deer," Crimson teased. "You're not fully ready to take me yet." Alastor gasped again as Crimson slowly started to stroke him while holding him up with his tail. He gasped and breathed heavily as he was lowered back down, Crimson's hands firmly on his hips again.

Alastor jerked in surprise when he felt Crimson start to enter him slowly, biting his lip and letting out a small whimper. "It's okay, deer," Crimson reassured him. "The pain will ease soon, and then you can move as much as you want." A few minutes later, Alastor started moving, riding Crimson slowly at first and then picking up speed until he was bouncing on top of him.

Crimson grunted as he watched his dear move above him, amazed by how beautiful he looked. Finally, the pleasure became too much for Alastor to handle, and he whispered Crimson's name one final time before climaxing and collapsing on top of him. Crimson continued thrusting until he came as well.

They fell asleep together in each other's arms, tangled in sheets while Crimson's tail wrapped around them protectively. Throughout the night, they had passionately connected and reaffirmed their deep love for each other. Crimson made sure that his deer knew just how much he meant to him.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 12

As the meal wound down, Alastor leaned back in his chair, his grin as radiant as the soft glow of the candlelight that illuminated the cozy space. The whisky glasses were only half-emptied, and an air of lingering warmth settled between them like a comfortable blanket. With a flourish, Alastor extended his hand toward Crimson, his eyes gleaming with playful intent.

“Darling,” Alastor began, his smooth voice inviting and musical, “would you care for a dance?”

Crimson’s grin widened as he rose from his seat, taking Alastor’s hand with a firm yet gentle grip. “I thought you’d never ask, deer.”

With a graceful pull, Alastor led Crimson to the open space between the table and the record player. A jazzy love song began to play, its melody rich and smooth, weaving a tapestry of romance around them. The singer crooned softly, the lyrics carrying promises of unity and tenderness:

“Alone together, the blinding rain The starless night was not in vain. For we're together. And what is there to fear together?”

As the music filled the room, Alastor chuckled softly and began to sing along, his voice melting effortlessly into the tune. The sound was rich and hypnotic, each note delivered with the same captivating energy that defined Alastor himself.

Crimson raised a brow, smirking. “Singing to this? You’re not trying to give me ideas, are you?”

Alastor winked, his grin broadening. “Would that be such a bad thing, darling?”

Their movements synchronized as naturally as the rhythm of the song itself, each step a seamless blend of instinct and intent. Crimson pulled Alastor closer, his hand settling at the small of his back while his other hand held Alastor’s tightly. For a brief moment, Crimson rested his head against Alastor’s chest, feeling the steady hum of his voice reverberate through him.

Crimson’s tail curled around them in an almost subconscious gesture, a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness. Alastor stiffened momentarily at the unfamiliar touch but quickly relaxed, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he leaned into the moment.

They spun gently, their movements slowing as the music built toward its final verse. Crimson, wearing a sly grin, suddenly dipped Alastor. Alastor let out a surprised laugh, his voice bright and clear.

“Crimson!” Alastor exclaimed, half-teasing. “Warn me next ti—”

Before he could finish, Crimson leaned in and kissed him. The world seemed to still, the music fading into a quiet hum as their lips met. Alastor’s eyes widened in shock before fluttering shut, surrendering to the unexpected tenderness of the moment. The kiss was gentle yet electrifying, a perfect blend of passion and unspoken promises.

When Crimson finally pulled away, Alastor’s cheeks were flushed, his expression unusually shy. A rare, soft smile graced his lips as he straightened, smoothing his vest with deliberate care.

The song ended, leaving the room in a still, intimate silence broken only by the soft crackle of the record player. Alastor’s fingers brushed lightly against Crimson’s as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving Crimson’s. “Well,” he purred, his voice velvety, “you certainly know how to leave an impression.”

Crimson smirked, leaning casually against the edge of the counter. “What can I say? I aim to please.”

With a knowing look, Alastor began gathering the plates and glasses, his movements efficient and graceful. “Darling, while I tidy up, why don’t you handle a little task for me?”

Crimson raised a brow. “And what task would that be?”

Alastor turned, his smile sly and teasing. “Ask Moxxie to take the girls to your home tonight. I’d hate for them to interrupt us while we’re... singing sweet melodies.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Crimson's chest as he pulled out his phone. His fingers moved quickly over the screen as he typed a message: "Son, take your sister and her friend home with you tonight. I'm staying with my deer." Satisfied, he put his phone back into his pocket and observed Alastor expertly stacking plates with a small smile on his lips. The way Alastor moved with effortless grace and confidence was something Crimson could definitely get used to. Suddenly, his phone vibrated again, interrupting his thoughts. He retrieved it to see a reply from Moxxie: "Okay, Dad. Just make sure he can walk tomorrow." Crimson's jaw clenched as he responded: "Moxxie, shut up."

Moxxie chuckled to himself as he put his phone back in his pocket, standing outside a dimly lit movie theater. Loona and Niffty shared confused glances.

"What's so funny?" Loona asked, her expression dubious.

Moxxie grinned mischievously and shrugged. "Looks like we're having a sleepover at my place tonight. My dad and Alastor need some... alone time."

Loona sighed in annoyance while Niffty froze, her cheeks turning bright red as she suddenly understood. "Ohhh..."

Determined to lighten the mood, Moxxie clapped his hands together. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and pick out a few movies. If we're stuck together, we might as well have fun!"

Loona reluctantly agreed while Niffty perked up and started excitedly talking about different popcorn flavors and fun activities they could do. Meanwhile, back at Alastor's, the night was just getting started, and both Crimson and Alastor had no plans of ending it anytime soon.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 10

Alastor leaned against the kitchen counter, his ever-present grin spreading wider as he imagined the evening ahead. The memory of Niffty’s cheerful “Bye, Dad!” lingered in the air, filling the room with a warmth he hadn’t felt since his time among the living.

Letting out a long, steady breath, his crimson eyes scanned the cozy kitchen. It was surreal, almost like a dream. Niffty—his precious light—was finally thriving. She laughed, made friends, and lived the childhood that had been cruelly stolen from her. He had fought tooth and nail to give her this second chance, though the cost was a burden he bore alone. His gaze flickered to the dim corners of the room, where darker memories clawed their way to the surface. He couldn’t stop them. He never could.

He remembered the first time he saw her in Hell: broken, insane, and heartbreakingly young. Just shy of her fifteenth birthday, her innocence had been taken in ways that made his very being burn with rage. His fingers tightened on the counter as the image of her lifeless body from that fateful night pushed forward—the blood matting her vivid hair, the hollow space where her left eye had been, the torn and bruised remnants of her small frame. He had cradled her in his arms, tears streaming down his face as her mother, Tiffy, screamed in the background. Tiffy’s voice echoed in his mind still, raw and agonized.

Tiffy. A dear friend, a sister in all but blood. Niffty’s mother had been one of the few people who made his life above bearable. She had scolded him for spoiling Niffty, always teasing, “Uncle Alastor, stop making her so rotten!” Yet her smile had betrayed her pride in the love he showed her daughter. They had been a family, hadn’t they? A fleeting happiness, gone in an instant. Tiffy’s suicide only a week after Niffty’s murder had left a wound that never healed. He had searched endlessly for her in Hell, calling out through his broadcasts, desperate for even a trace of her soul. But she never came.

Sometimes, he dared to hope she had made it to Heaven, though the thought felt like a fragile lie. Alastor’s grin faltered as the memories twisted further. The men responsible for Niffty’s suffering—their faces haunted him as much as the child they had destroyed. Oh, how they had begged when he found them. His grin darkened, sharp and feral. He had taken their eyes, their tongues, and more.

Their screams had been a symphony of justice as he made them pay for every shred of agony they had inflicted. The ringleader, though, had been his masterpiece. He dragged him into despair so profound, the man’s screams turned to incoherent babbles, a cruel mirror of Niffty’s last moments. A sharp inhale steadied him. “Now, now,” Alastor murmured to himself, his voice light and sing-song. “No dreadful thoughts before dinner, dear boy. That simply will not do!” He adjusted his apron, letting his attention return to the meal.

The aroma of rosemary-crusted roast filled the room, mingling with the scent of spiced vegetables and fresh-baked rolls. Each dish was a labor of love, crafted with meticulous care. The table was set to perfection: fine linens, flickering candles, and crystal glasses standing ready for the whisky Crimson was bringing over. From the record player, soft jazz drifted through the air, soothing and warm.

He glanced at the clock—7:45. His grin returned. “Oh dear, I’m running dreadfully behind!” he exclaimed, hurrying upstairs. He stripped off his apron and exchanged it for his finest attire: a crisp white shirt under a rose-red vest, paired with tailored trousers and polished black shoes. As a finishing touch, he stood before the mirror and undid the magic that kept his hair neat and straight. With a flick of his fingers, auburn curls sprang to life, framing his face in a soft, tousled bob.

He smiled at his reflection, smoothing the curls. Tonight, he’ll see me as I am—the real Alastor. When the knock came, his heart fluttered. Composing himself, he descended the stairs with his signature bounce and opened the door. Crimson stood there, the picture of sophistication in a tailored suit. His sharp eyes softened the moment they met Alastor’s. But then his gaze caught on Alastor’s hair, and his expression shifted to astonishment.

“How… how did you get a wig that looks so real?” Crimson asked, his voice low with disbelief. Alastor’s laughter rang out, light and musical. “Oh, darling, this isn’t a wig.” He stepped closer, running a hand through the curls. “This is my real hair.” Crimson blinked, his confusion giving way to awe. “How?”

Alastor raised a finger to his lips, his grin playful. “Magic,” he whispered. “It’s not something I use often, and I’d prefer it remain our little secret.” Crimson stepped forward, his expression softening further. “Don’t worry, deer. No one will know.” The promise in his tone was quiet but unshakable. Alastor’s smile softened, his sharp edges melting under Crimson’s gaze. He only blinked when Crimson held out a bouquet of red roses and white lilies, arranged in a gleaming gold vase. Alastor’s eyes widened. “Darling… It’s exquisite,” he whispered, his voice carrying genuine awe. He stepped aside to let Crimson in. “Shall we?”

As Crimson entered, the warmth of the room welcomed him. The soft glow of candlelight, the inviting scents of dinner, and the gentle jazz notes melted the tension from his shoulders. Tonight, the chaos of Hell could wait. Here, it was just the two of them—a carefully prepared dinner, soft candlelight, and the quiet comfort of an unexpected bond. For once, the past could remain where it belonged, and the present was theirs to savor.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 11

Crimson carefully pulled a bottle from his coat, the amber liquid inside catching the warm glow of candlelight. Alastor’s eyes widened, immediately recognizing the bottle’s craftsmanship and the promise of its contents. “Darling,” Alastor began, his voice lilting with curiosity, “how old is that whisky?”

Crimson smirked, setting the bottle on the table with deliberate care. “Just a little over 200 years.” Alastor blinked, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief. “Ha, very funny, Crimson.”

“I’m not joking,” Crimson replied, his smirk widening. “It’s just little over 200 years old. I considered bringing the 500-year-old one, but I thought I’d save that for... a more special occasion.” Alastor froze, his grin faltering for just a moment as he studied Crimson’s face. He wasn’t joking. The weight of that gesture settled in Alastor’s chest, the thought of the 500-year-old whisky lingering like a silent promise for a future moment they might share. Warmth blossomed inside him, the kind that had nothing to do with the whisky before him.

“Darling,” Alastor finally said, his voice softening, “thank you. I... I’m not sure what to say.” “Don’t say anything yet,” Crimson replied, pulling out a chair for Alastor and gesturing for him to sit. Once Alastor had settled, Crimson slid the chair forward before taking his own seat across the table.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the soft hum of jazz and the flickering of candlelight. The two men sat in a rare silence, studying each other, as though trying to read the unspoken thoughts lingering between them. Finally, Crimson broke the quiet. “So,” he began, his voice casual, “what do you like to do when you’re not working or looking after your daughter?”

Alastor’s smile widened, his hands folding gracefully atop the table. “Apart from baking, I adore music and dancing. Back in Pride, I was a radio host. I even used to sing on occasion. People told me I had a rather captivating voice.”

Crimson nodded, though his smile faltered momentarily as the memories of Alastor’s hardships in Pride flickered in his mind. He buried his bitterness behind a smooth reply. “I’d say they were right. Maybe someday you could put on a show just for me.” Alastor’s grin turned sly, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes. “Darling, if you behave tonight, I might just convince you to join me for a duet.”

Crimson choked on a sip of whisky, his face warming at the thought—his voice mingling with Alastor’s, their harmony weaving something more intimate than words. “I... uh...” He cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. “Are you sure you want that?”

Alastor chuckled, leaning forward on the table with a teasing lilt. “What’s the matter, darling? Afraid singing with little old me might make you blush?” Crimson recovered quickly, flashing a confident smirk. “Not at all. I’m more of a dancer.” His tone dropped into a low murmur. “I’d rather you keep singing while I move your body.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, humming with satisfaction as his ceyes sparkled with amusement. “Good to know. But enough about me, darling. Let’s turn the spotlight on you. When you’re not buried under paperwork, refereeing family drama, or lurking outside my café to pat Niffty on the head before running off, what do you enjoy doing?”

Crimson arched a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You noticed that?” “Darling, I notice everything,” Alastor replied smoothly, adding a playful wink that made Crimson’s chest tighten.

Crimson shook his head with a low chuckle. “Honestly? Not much. That’s my life—work, family, and trying to keep Moxxie from driving me insane.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “You’ve been... a welcome distraction.” Alastor tilted his head, his smile gentler now. “I’m glad to hear that. But is that really all you do? No hobbies? No guilty pleasures? Nothing just for yourself?”

Crimson hesitated, his smirk widening into something sly. “I’ve gotten into people-watching. Does that count?” Alastor rolled his eyes with theatrical flair. “Please tell me you actually speak to some of these people, Crimson.”

“Oh, I talk to them,” Crimson said lightly, swirling the whisky in his glass. But his thoughts darkened as he added inwardly, I talk to them right before I put a bullet in their heads for looking at you a little too long.

Seemingly oblivious to the subtext, Alastor’s grin sharpened. “Good. I’d hate to think you were isolating yourself too much. Although,” he continued with a teasing edge, “I’d like to see you actually visit my café during business hours. You know, like a normal patron—not some shadow lurking outside.” Crimson’s brow quirked. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Alastor laughed, the sound warm and musical, a melody in its own right. “Darling, this is a private dinner in the back of my café. That hardly counts.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “I want you to see it during the day, to truly experience the place I’ve built.”

Crimson’s smirk faltered, giving way to a rare moment of honesty. “Maybe someday.” His tone softened, carrying more weight than the words themselves. “But for now, I’m glad to be seeing this side of you—your home.” A faint blush crept across Alastor’s cheeks, his confidence momentarily giving way to something vulnerable. He gestured toward the food, recovering with his usual charm. “Shall we?”

Crimson nodded, cutting into the rosemary-crusted roast. The first bite was a revelation—the meat tender and perfectly seasoned, the flavors dancing on his tongue. It was, without a doubt, one of the finest meals he’d ever had. But his focus kept drifting.

He watched as Alastor lifted a delicate forkful of vegetables to his lips, his expression lighting up as he hummed in approval. The sound, soft and unguarded, sent a shiver down Crimson’s spine. He traced the line of Alastor’s neck, the way the candlelight kissed his skin, and the way his curls framed his face like a crown of auburn fire.

Crimson shifted in his seat, heat pooling low in his gut as he fought to rein in his wandering thoughts. Get a grip, he scolded himself. But it was no use. The sight of Alastor—graceful, radiant, and utterly at ease—was impossible to ignore.

“Darling?” Alastor’s voice broke through his haze, pulling him back to the present. Crimson blinked, realizing Alastor was watching him with a curious tilt of his head. “Hmm?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Alastor observed, his tone light but tinged with amusement. “Is the food not to your liking?” Crimson cleared his throat, forcing a smirk onto his face. “The food’s perfect, deer. I’m just... distracted.” Alastor’s grin turned coy, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? By what, pray tell?”

Crimson raised his glass, hiding his expression as he took a slow sip of whisky. His voice was low, almost a growl. “By you.” Alastor’s laughter bubbled up, warm and genuine, filling the room with a brightness that chased away any lingering shadows. The tension in Crimson’s chest eased, replaced by something softer—an unspoken connection that neither of them dared to name.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 9

The café hummed with the soft clatter of plates. Alastor, in black pants and a red shirt with an apron adorned with playful fawns, moved gracefully through the kitchen. His humming blended seamlessly with the vintage melody playing in the background, creating an atmosphere of warmth and ease. Though his mind felt light and carefree, his meticulous attention to every dish betrayed the care he poured into tonight’s dinner. Tonight was special.

Outside, Moxxie stood on the café’s doorstep, nerves gnawing at him. He hadn’t been this anxious since the day Blitz brought Loona to meet the family—a memory that still sent shivers down his spine. Blitz had been beaming with pride over adopting a hellhound, while Moxxie saw nothing but a feral beast ready to pounce. He hesitated, then gave the door a tentative knock. Before he could even lower his hand, the door flew open, revealing Loona’s sharp glare. Her piercing eyes bore into him, freezing him in place. “Moxxie,” she growled, her tone already dangerous, “you better not have told your dad.” Moxxie took an instinctive step back, his laugh nervous and unconvincing. “Haha… funny story, Loona—”

Her growl deepened, her sharp teeth flashing as she jabbed a clawed finger into his chest. “Of course you did! Niffty had been crying her eye out because she’s scared Crimson will stop liking Alastor now! Do you have any idea how hard it was to calm her down?!” Her voice cracked slightly, but her frustration only seemed to grow. “I swear, Moxxie, I never want to see her cry again. She’s the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t make me want to bite their head off.” Moxxie stumbled back further, waving his hands defensively. “Relax! She has nothing to worry about. My dad isn’t upset with Alastor—he’s furious at Pride. In fact,” he added, his voice lowering conspiratorially, “he’s already given Blitz and Striker the order to, uh, ‘clean.’”

From the back, Niffty peeked out timidly from behind a door, her wide, tear-filled eye shimmering with hope. “He don't hate my dad?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Nope,” Moxxie said warmly, offering her a reassuring smile. “If anything, you should start thinking about wedding plans. By the end of the month, my dad might have Alastor in a wedding dress if he gets his way.” He chuckled. “He even pulled out some $1200 whisky—over 200 years old! I didn’t even know he had whisky that old.”

Niffty froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing a deep red before she erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re joking, right?” she asked, her tears forgotten. Loona, however, wasn’t laughing. Her sharp gaze stayed fixed on Moxxie. “Are you serious? Your dad is that into Alastor?” Moxxie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah. Dad’s in deep. He fell hard the day he met him. I may have, uh, teased him a bit to much about someone stealing Alastor away from him.” He grinned sheepishly. “Guess I made him a little paranoid.”

Loona groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Moxxie, you idiot. Do you even know how many messes your dad’s paranoia has caused? Blitz has to clean up those ‘random accidents’ every time Crimson thinks someone’s looking at Alastor the wrong way.” Moxxie froze, his face turning pale. “W-well, at least Dad’s getting out more,” he offered weakly, adding, “and, uh, he’s got himself a hobby now…” “Unbelievable,” Loona muttered, rolling her eyes. “Your family’s a nightmare.”

“Speaking of family,” Moxxie said quickly, eager to shift the conversation, “are you two ready for the movies? Dad’s orders. You get to pick whatever you want.” “Really?” Niffty’s face lit up, her earlier worries replaced with excitement. “Really,” Moxxie confirmed with a nod. “Just a second!” Niffty chirped, dashing toward the kitchen. She barreled into Alastor, who was mid-song, wrapping her small arms around his waist. “Bye, Dad! Have a great dinner with Crimson!” she said brightly, her voice filled with cheer.

Alastor blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before a warm smile softened his face. He gently patted her head. “Thank you, my dear. Enjoy your outing,” he replied with his usual genteel charm. “Love you! Bye, Dad!” Niffty called as she dashed back to join Loona and Moxxie. Loona watched the exchange with a rare smirk. “Cute.” “Adorable,” Moxxie added with a grin. “Now let’s get moving before my dad starts thinking I’m delaying his date on purpose.”

Niffty grabbed Moxxie’s hand as they headed out, her spirits buoyed. She didn’t fully understand the talk of plans or messes, but she knew one thing for sure: Crimson cared deeply for her dad. The few times they’d seen each other, Crimson had always patted her head and told her to be good for Alastor. Though he never stepped fully into the café, he’d blush while watching her father from afar before retreating. As the café door shut behind them, the soft hum of Alastor’s singing continued, filling the space with a calm joy. Tonight was special—and he was ready.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 8

Moxxie couldn't sit still, wringing his hands as he watched Crimson pace back and forth in front of the whisky shelf. His dad's intense focus on choosing the perfect bottle for dinner only made Moxxie's stomach twist even more. Should he tell him? Or should he wait for Alastor to reveal his past on his own? But what if Crimson said something that triggered painful memories? The tension in the room was palpable as Crimson mused aloud about getting flowers, wondering whether red roses or lilies would be better for Alastor. Moxxie gulped audibly, his nerves getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Hey, Dad... how mad would you be if I knew something bad happened to Alastor and Niffty and... didn’t tell you?”

Crimson’s hand froze mid-reach, his eyes narrowing as he slowly turned to face his son. His expression darkened into a mix of suspicion and barely restrained anger. “Moxxie,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you’d better be speaking hypothetically. Because if you’ve been keeping something from me about my deer, I’m going to be very, very pissed.” Before Moxxie could stammer out a response, the door swung open, and Striker and Blitz strolled in. Their expressions were grim, though Blitz couldn’t resist a smirk as he spotted Moxxie. “Oh, good,” Blitz drawled. “Looks like Moxxie’s going to be the one to tell the boss what we just found out.”

Striker leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp grin making Moxxie wince. “Go on, kid. Tell your father what Niffty told you, her online friend. We’ll wait.” Moxxie's face drained of color. "Why did you have to tell Loona, Niffty? Especially when those two were nearby," he grumbled under his breath. He gulped nervously, shifting his eyes between Crimson, Blitz, and Striker. Crimson’s grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Moxxie,” he growled, his voice even quieter now, “what. Do. You. Know?”

“Um, Dad...” Moxxie stuttered nervously, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess, “When Alastor and Niffty were living in Pride, some terrible events occurred. Alastor made a deal with a blue blood and sold his soul to save Niffty. But then his soul was traded... to the queen of Hell.” Moxxie hesitated, dreading the reaction that would appear on Crimson's face. “But don't worry, Dad—Lucifer has released him from that contract. Before that happened, though, he nearly was killed protecting the princess and—” “And what?” Crimson's voice lowered to a cold whisper.

Moxxie couldn't help but flinch. Blitz interrupted, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “And he was nearly raped, boss. By Vox. In Overlord. Obsessed and stalking Alastor, Vox was furious that Alastor refused to give him the time of day." Blitz crossed his arms, his tail swishing behind him in agitation. “Apparently, Vox made a deal with Heaven to kill the princess if he could have Alastor. Lucifer showed up just in time to save him, but not before nearly being killed and assaulted.”

Striker picked up where Blitz left off, his tone dripping with disdain. “Lucifer freed his soul from the queen and even offered to make him a Hellborn. But the cherry on top? That spoiled little princess defended her mother’s actions after Alastor almost died taking a blade meant for her.” Striker’s yellow eyes narrowed. “There’s more, boss. But you’re not gonna want Moxxie here for that part.”

Moxxie winced as the whisky bottle slipped from Crimson’s hand, shattering on the floor. The room fell silent, the only sound the faint crunch of glass under Crimson’s heel as he stepped forward. His face twisted with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might crack.

“My deer’s soul was taken and sold,” Crimson growled. “He was nearly killed because of the queen and her spoiled brat—and then nearly violated by some overlord?” His voice rose with every word until it was a roar. “Striker. Blitz.” “Yes, sir?” Striker and Blitz both replied, their tone suddenly formal.

“Go to Pride. Find every sinner, overlord, imp, or lowlife who hurt, plotted against, or even thought about hurting my deer. Kill them. All of them.” Blitz gave a sharp salute, his grin wicked. “On it, boss. Consider it done.” Striker’s smirk turned cold. “They won’t see the sunrise.”

“Dad,” Moxxie began, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, “don’t you think this might, you know, piss off Lucifer?” Crimson turned his glare on Moxxie. “Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Moxxie. You’re taking your new little sister and her friend to the movies tonight. Let her pick whatever she wants, no complaints. Buy whatever snacks they want. Understand?”

Moxxie sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Yes, sir.” Satisfied, Crimson turned back to his whisky collection and selected a gleaming bottle of golden liquid. “This,” he said with a wicked grin, “is a $1200 whisky. Over 200 years old. Perfect for wooing my future wife tonight.”

Moxxie blinked. “Wait, what?” Crimson smirked, adjusting his collar. “I’m making my intentions clear tonight. And if Lucifer or anyone else wants to cross me, they’ll have to deal with Mammon.” “Mammon?” Blitz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crimson chuckled darkly. “Yeah. He’s taken a liking to Alastor’s café. Says it’s his new favorite spot for coffee and pastries. If Pride gets bold, I’ve got leverage. Lucifer doesn’t want to lose Mammon’s support—not when he still technically owns him after his divorce with the queen.” Striker let out a low whistle. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh, boss?”

“Damn right,” Crimson said, pulling out his phone to order his man to pick up red roses and lilies. “Now get to work. I’ve got a dinner to attend, and my deer deserves nothing but the best.” As Moxxie reluctantly left to escort Niffty and Loona to the movies and Striker and Blitz prepared for a bloody rampage in Pride, Crimson poured himself a small glass of the whisky that had already been open, savoring it with a self-satisfied smirk. “Let’s see anyone try to mess with what’s mine now,” he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with dangerous determination.

[fanficsfreeideas]

crimson deer

Chapter 6

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he approached Crimson’s grand office building, the box of freshly baked treats in his hands radiating warmth through the crisp morning air. He had spent hours perfecting the recipes and wanted Crimson to be the first to taste them. Niffty’s teasing voice still echoed in his mind.

“Dad, how sweet of you! Letting your boyfriend have the first bite,” she had giggled, her mischievous grin lighting up her face. Alastor had tried to brush her off, but the deep blush on his face had only fueled Loona’s laughter.

Loona, who had recently moved in with him and Niffty, had quickly become an unexpected but welcome addition to their unconventional family. Though polar opposites, the two girls had bonded swiftly. Niffty, ever the chatterbox, had finally found someone to share her antics with beyond her online friend.

As Alastor reached the entrance, two of Crimson’s men opened the door for him. “Good morning, Alastor,” they greeted with shy smiles.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Alastor replied smoothly, flashing one of his signature dazzling grins. “I hope to see you at my café later.”

Both men blushed, nodding quickly. “Yes, sir!”

Inside, Moxxie spotted him and lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Alastor!” he exclaimed, practically skipping over.

Alastor handed him the box of cinnamon rolls with a playful smirk. “Make sure your dad doesn’t find these this time, sweetheart,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Moxxie grinned, hugging the box tightly. “Thanks, Alastor! You’re the best!” He darted off but paused briefly. “Oh, and thanks again!”

Alastor chuckled. “A grown man stealing cinnamon rolls from his own son. Truly adorable.”

As he made his way through the building, more of Crimson’s men greeted him warmly. Some waved, others smiled, and a few murmured polite good mornings. Alastor returned every gesture with charm and grace. Soon, he reached Crimson’s office, knocking lightly before peeking his head inside.

Crimson looked up from his desk, irritation written across his face. “Who the hell—” His scowl melted as soon as he saw Alastor. “You’re late, Deer.”

Alastor stepped inside, laughing softly. “Darling, your men were so kind, I simply had to stop and chat. Don’t pretend you even noticed the time.”

Crimson glared half-heartedly before sighing. “Get in here.”

Alastor set the box of treats on the desk, along with a steaming mug of coffee, and gracefully slid into the chair beside him. “What’s put you in a sour mood this morning?”

Crimson rubbed his temples. “Family problems. Another branch trying to start trouble, and now I have to clean up the mess. You know how family is.”

Alastor’s expression softened. “I can’t say I know what that’s like. I didn’t really have a family when I was alive. It was just me and Ma. My father left right after I was born, he was pissed that I looked too much like her.” Crimson sipped his coffee, his gaze thoughtful. “But that’s why I treasure what my café has brought me. You, your son, your... men,” he added with a knowing smirk. “It feels like I’ve gained a family. It’s no longer just me and Niffty. I even have two friends now, and one of their kids has become my daughter’s best friend.”

Crimson swallowed hard, his mouth opening as if to say something, but he quickly shut it again. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded toward the box. “What did you bring me this time, Deer?”

Alastor sighed softly, then smiled. “Darling, I’ve made some new treats and want your opinion before I start selling them.”

Crimson opened the box, revealing five different pastries, each more decadent than the last. His mouth watered as he sampled them, and after finishing, he leaned back with a satisfied groan.

“Well, Deer, I won’t lie to you. Three are amazing—absolutely perfect. The other two? They need work.”

Alastor nodded, taking notes as Crimson described what was missing. He appreciated the honesty, knowing Crimson would never sugarcoat his opinions.

Crimson leaned forward, his face inches from Alastor’s. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Crimson’s lips hovered dangerously close to Alastor’s when the door burst open.

“Dad, do you know where—” Moxxie froze, his wide eyes darting between the two men. Crimson immediately pulled back, clearing his throat as Alastor’s face turned a deep shade of crimson to match his lover’s name.

“I... I should go,” Alastor stammered, standing abruptly. “Let you get back to business.”

But as he turned, Crimson reached out, gently grabbing his arm. “Tonight, make me dinner, Deer,” he said softly. “I’ll bring the whiskey. I’ll even pay for the kids to go out.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped. He quickly pulled out his phone, texting Niffty with shaking hands and attaching a picture for proof.

Meanwhile, at the café, Niffty was chatting with Striker and Blitz when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, let out a shriek, and nearly dropped her phone. “Oh my Mr. Clean!”

Blitz jumped to his feet, ready for battle. “What? Who? Where?!”

Striker grabbed the phone, read the text, and started laughing. “Well, damn. The boss finally grew a pair.”

Blitz snatched the phone, staring in disbelief. “Hot damn! Al’s gonna get laid tonight!”

Niffty gagged. “Ew! That’s my dad! Stop it!”

Loona burst in, knife in hand. “Who needs stabbing?”

Striker smirked. “Looks like you’ve been rubbing off on Loona, Niffty.”

Back in the office, Alastor smiled shyly. “Should I wear something fancy?”

Crimson grinned. “I’d rather see you in nothing after we eat.”

“Ew! Dad!” Moxxie exclaimed, gagging dramatically.

Alastor’s blush deepened, but he chuckled softly. “We’ll see, darling. It depends on what kind of whiskey you bring.”