#god i missed that app

[pallas-cat]

zombies run s6 ep 16

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[gooseco]

[theladyfae]

martha jones studies !!

[alastorsfuckassbob]

With Her Song- 5

AlastorXFem!Reader part 5!

A/N: okay so this is egregiously long and could totally be two chapters (a grand total of 14436 words) but I think I've made yall wait LONG ENOUGH!!!!!!!! a l s o FUN FACT I LEARNED WHILE WRITING THIS, although turpentine is often used as a paint thinner modernly, in the olden days it was used to alleviate ailments such as soreness or pain. IT IS ALSO very very flammable!! It’s one of those old timey concoctions people would just kinda throw on whatever to fix an issue, but it often caused more pain than good. YAY for metaphors teaching me new little things. Shout out to hadestown for teaching me that silly little substance- pls I live under a fucking rock that’s probs painfully obvious. 

Plot: Y/n needs therapy but instead indulges in a few too many dinky drinks with friends-it goes painfully wrong and then painfully right and then with a dash of fan service we get some drunken closure!

Minors get the frick out..thank yew :)

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-A bit of ANGST

-Alcohol and drugs..duh

-Murder death and violence..the whole nine yards

-A LOTTT OF CURSING (are you surprised)

-we do kiss but its not fun but could be fun in the future

-overuse of thesaurus! (take a shot every time i say enraptured)

✨ WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ✨ (i did not proofread this LMAO)

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The words echoed through your mind. Each syllable reverberating into the depths of your soul, sowing the seeds of your own corruption. Their tone twists deeper, sharpened and volatile. The desolate look of his eyes was a time drenched rusted knife plunging deep into your skin, it radiated with a sincerity you weren’t ready to meet. 

The memory was soaked in turpitude turpentine, match struck and ablaze with frantic fire. No matter how many times you attempted to cleanse your thoughts of the memory, the words would bubble up from the ashes and form again. It was a festering wound that wouldn’t close. The defiled crimson that poured from your wounded heart manifested as chapfallen tears and somber sniffles.

You reach into your satin lined purse searching for any form of distraction. A box of cigarettes finds space in your grasp, the lighter following soon after. Your shaking hands remove the thin stick from its box, you click the lighter to no avail. It sparks in unspoken flames,  devoid of fuel, unable to battle the recollection displayed; it creeps in deeper both vivid and haunting. In a swift movement the objects fly across the room fleeting from your frustration. Your fingers fumble through the crowded labyrinth of the bags interior in search of your phone.  Your grasp gets tangled on the crumpled receipts of your latest purchases and various tubes of lip gloss before it meets the exterior of the device. 

The urgency of each swipe heightens and you frantically scroll through the contact list. Each name surfaced on the digital roster stirs a sense of unease within you. The majority of the contacts in your collection were nothing more than business associates. In your panicked swipes you come across a small picture of Angel followed by the name “Hot spider from work”. He had chosen the name himself upon entering his number into your phone, you hadn’t bothered to change it.  You dial the number before you can convince yourself otherwise. Your eyes release a rivulet of tears dotting the surface of the screen as you await an answer. Its insistent ring pulses into your hand, mimicking the anticipation of your heartbeat. The longer it hangs in the air the more your hope for connection begins to fade. 

With a soft click angel’s voice carries warmth and familiarity into your ears.

“Hey doll, I’m going out with Cherri tonight, I can’t talk long you need somethin?” He casually chimed accompanied by his typical charm. 

You attempted to speak but the words caught against the burning in your throat. A nearly silent sob wracked against his ears, muffled by the crinkling timbre of the phone line. 

“Oh shit..y/n are you okay?" His voice adopts a concerned cadence, the essence of compassion underscoring the inquiry. You hold back a sniffle as he continues to speak. ”Did something happen?” He pondered your apparent distress, his thoughts racing to find any plausible explanation. His mind shifted to your shared situation, casting an anxious shadow onto his usually brightened facade. 

 “Did.. Val do something?” A mixture of concern and fear manifested within his hesitant tone. 

“No its okay..I just wanted to talk for a bit. I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy” Each carefully chosen word placed a mask upon the turmoil and disorder you felt underneath. He listened through each layer of brightly shined forgery, not buying into its incandescent veneer. Angel was not the “purest” soul in hell by any means, but his heart was imbued with the care he held for his friends. Even if the words you spoke supported a sense of stability, there was no way he would take that chance. 

“Are you still at the club? I’ll be right over. I just need to let Cherri kno-”

“No, no- I don’t want to ruin your plans” You cut him off before the words left his mouth. Despite his borderline celebrity status, Angel wasn’t granted many friendships. With everything Valentino demanded, he didn’t have a lot of extra time to maintain the ones he did have. Whatever unrest Alastor had pervaded you with would have to wait; it wasn’t fair to ruin his downtime.

“I can get drunk off my ass another night from the sound of it you don’t need to be alone right now.” He spoke ignoring your words.Your friendship was the last semblance of normalcy in his hellish life. He would never outwardly admit how much, but he loved you. He would give up a hundred nights of drinking if it meant he could fix whatever had troubled you.

“Can I come with you?”  You asked hesitantly. The fear of isolation haunted you too much to completely drop the issue, perhaps you could just tag along. That way you can avoid your current predicament, and he would still be granted a night of well deserved fun.

“Yeah obviously.” He mocked “Is that even a real question.” A wave of sarcasm crashed against his words, a laugh erupting along with it. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, eventually his satirical outlook shifted into a short apprehensive silence. “Are you sure you’re up for it toots?” He posed, genuine worry at its core.

“Yeah I think it’ll be fun to get my mind off things..its just been a rough day” you say nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just shattered the majority of your dressing room in your fight with Alastor.

“Kay I’ll let Cherri know we found a third”  You could practically picture the jokingly seductive smirk smearing across his expression through the haze of the phone. 

“Angel-“ You playfully rolled your eyes. You adored his flirtatious sense of humor more than you were willing to admit. Occasionally, the comments could become a tad repetitive, but for the larger majority of time, they were hilarious.

“You know you love me babes, I’m glad you’re coming with us. It took you long enough-you’ve been denying my invitations for months. We’ll pick you up in a half hour okay?” He prattled out, his tone teeming with an enthusiastic thrill.

“Yeah it should be fun..I’ve gotta get changed, see you when you get here” You laugh out, amused by his reactions. You haphazardly click the device off and toss it on top of your bag. You rush over to the disorganized hodgepodge of clothing hung on the rack within your dressing room. You tear through countless revealing outfits in search of something well suited for a night on the town.

 The numerous options you had tried on and promptly threw off piled up behind you. Nothing felt right, if the color was correct, you didn’t like the way it fit you, if the fit was accurate, the color was an atrocity. You were beginning to contemplate not going at all, if you weren’t going to look good there was no sense in going. You anxiously inch closer to the racks end, denying each ensemble until you reach the final matching set, a short ivory corseted top and its matching mini skirt. It wasn’t ideal, but still held a bit more merit than the previous options. The dress you had  been wearing pooled at your feet as you slid the new top over your head. As you stepped into the skirt,  your phone started to buzz again. You pick up the device and read the message.

“Don’t expect us to wait all night for you~ We’re here now babes get your ass out here so we can have a good time”

You hadn’t expected the time to pass so quickly. You briskly check your hair and makeup in your phones camera and the results aren’t appalling enough to justify being late. The skirt’s zipper flies to a hurried close as you grab your things and rush outside to meet Angel. 

Upon exiting the building, you are greeted with the well welcomed sight of the spider demon. He leans against the sleek black car. His eyes are glossed in disinterest, focused on the condition of his nails. As the front door clicks to a close behind you, he glances up in your direction. His bored demeanor fading to that of excitement. You send him a small sheepish wave as you walk towards him. 

“Hiya y/n~” Angel purred, wrapping all  his four arms around your frame. He lifted you into a bit of a spin as he hugged you. “Don’t you just look spectacular, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone” He lets out a clearly fake gasp. His face shifts into an overly dramatic display of satirical shock. “Is it me? Because I think it just might be me” He pinches your cheeks playfully before ushering you towards the car.  As soon as you’re seated angel’s legs are stretched across you, and his arms rest behind his head against the window.

“Cheri! This is y/n.” Angel spoke enthusiastically, excited to have finally introduced his two favorite friends. You sent her a small hello and a little wave. However, Cheri remained rather quiet. In the few times Angel had mentioned her, she never seemed like the type to stop talking, just so long as she had something to say. It was off-putting to be the source of her silence. It didn’t seem like the two of you were going to be fast friends or even slow ones. Angels face fell as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The tension in the air suffocated you, straightening your spine as you drifted in its asphyxiating poison. His confident posture shifted into that of hesitation. The strong smile he usually wore faltered as it cracked into a thin straight line. You noticed the subtle reflection of his inner most thoughts in each anxious twist of his hands. Cheri rolled her eye, and fixated it towards the other window; clearly unbothered by his newfound expression.

“Right..uh..Who’s ready to get fucked up” He asked brightly attempting to fix the mood. Cheri sent him a glare in response, his efforts had fallen flat. You weren’t entirely sure what to say or how to defuse this situation, so you opted for silence as well. Disappointment sank into Angel’s frame. He drew his legs back and shrunk down into his own seat.  The rest of the car ride was devoid of conversation of any sort. The only sounds within the vehicle were the trashy pop songs the car’s radio bothered to spit out, and the hum of the passing cars. 

 To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure why Cheri didn’t seem to like you. You had never met her until this point or truly even spoken a word in her direction, and yet she seemed so bothered by your existence. Angel clearly liked her for some reason, maybe she was just defensive around new people. You could work with that. The car jerks to a heavy stop in front of the neon lined club roughly yanking you from your thoughts. The building in front of you was a bit smaller than Valentino’s own club and yet it held the all the same destructive tendencies.  As the three of you stepped out of the car, it sped off at an inhumane speed, leaving you with no course of escape.

The room was unusually warm. It seemed to pulsate with the thumping base reverberating from the numerous speakers that lined the bar. The dance floor oozed in the addictive scent of expensive perfumes and cheap liquors. The neon glow from the flashing lights above haloed each demon in a glistening sacrilegious sheen. For a moment, you are caught within its immersive daze. The electric buzz of the atmosphere in each tiny connection ties you within its euphoric chains. For a moment, you are nothing more than a spinning cog in the club’s eccentric machine. Twirling. Swaying. Hypnotic within its rhythm, your body reflects that of the environment as you lose yourself in its captivating dance. 

“Y/n babes- we haven’t had a round yet, we’re here to get drunk and dance- not just dance” Angel’s playful voice snaps you back into reality. He grabs your hand and leads you to a quieter table in the back where  Cheri had already ordered the first few rounds of shots. 

Before you can truly sit down in the booth, your fingers grip around the small glass meeting it with your lips, the sharp tingling liquid burning down your throat. Within minutes the first few rounds were complete, despite your slightly stumbling form, you insisted on another. Angel, in a similar boat, gladly agrees leaving you alone in the neon glow with Cheri. As he walks towards the bar you feel the intensity of her gaze pricking into the exposed skin of your shoulders. Her voice officially calls your attention as she pulls out a small bag of miscellaneous pills.

“How about we get things really started”  A sly smile spread across her face as she spoke, dangling the bag between her fingers teasingly. “It’s nothing too harmful just a mild..stimulant” She added as she took two small circular capsules from their flimsy plastic container. She placed one on top of the cocktail napkin in front of you and one on her tongue. 

“What does that mean, what is it exactly” You ask hesitantly. You weren’t opposed to the idea of doing something of this sort, but it was best to know what you were getting into. In all honesty, Alastor wasn’t worth the onset taking something too serious would cause. Even in Hell, actions tend to have consequences.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re too good for this shit” She huffed kicking her legs onto the table, knocking a stray shot glass to the side with a soft clink. Your eyes widen in surprise by her reaction.

“No I wasn’t saying that- I just want to understand what I’m getting into..thats all” You stammered out attempting to diffuse any tension your response may have accidentally caused. She rolled her eye picking up the small white circle on the napkin.

“Don’t worry about that- it’s just to loosen you up so you can have a good time”.  She laughed nudging your arm slightly. “Its not serious..It’ll just help you forget” She sent you a soft smile placing the pill in your hand. Her eyes held a fragment of sadness, she would never mention it, but she had her own issues too. In her own odd way, she was just trying to help, and for some reason you couldn’t explain, you trusted her. 

You swallowed the pill as she pulled out a small circular tube. She pressed its edge against her lips and sent a puff of fruit mingled smoke in your direction. She wordlessly places the device in your hand, and you do the same. Its hazy pink light glows against the corners of your face as it activates. It wasn’t entirely like you to do something like this, but it seemed to help you get along with Cheri. That would make Angel happy to see his friends get along…After all, it was just to help you have a good time..No harm can come from a good time if thats all it is. The speakers of the club somehow grow louder as they sputter out a new, faster tune.

“Fuck I love this song” Cheri practically yells standing up from her seat. Before you can object, her hand takes yours, and you are dragged into the middle of the dance floor. She spins slightly as she rolls her hips yelling out the mumbled words of the song’s melody. It wasn’t long before your limbs began to echo the beat of each rhythm in tandem with her movements. Your mind glowed in a different sort of euphoria, your limbs seemed to float, slowing gliding through the tempo of the resounding pulse of your heart beat. Each person in the room seemed to blend together in watercolor warmth and decadent dancing pleasure, painting the picture of pure energy. With each spin you felt the weight of each memory sizzle off of your skin and evaporate into the air. You glance at Cheri beside you as her body swings under the  influence of the pure “ecstasy” of the moment. 

“I thought you were just gonna be another one of angel’s depressing friends-but fuck do you know how to party” Cheri laughed throwing her hands above her head as she swayed to the beat of the music. (White girl wasted asf) 

“Where did I go wrong to make you think that” You laugh with her spinning her around. 

“It doesn’t really matter, you just had that vibe” Her eyes drift to the demon behind you “More relevantly, I think ears over there is picking up a different vibe”

“What do you mean” You ask as she subtly points to the cat demon across the bar. His white fluffy tail resembled freshly fallen snow. On first glance, he held a gentle exterior. Golden chains strung from his neck dipped between his low cut lacy top and suit jacket. As your eyes wandered upwards, his seemingly innocent appearance was betrayed by his piercing red eyes. They soaked into his skin like freshly spilled blood. He glanced back at you, noticing how deeply your eyes were trained on him. He smiled revealing his razor sharp teeth and the edge of his forked tongue. His eyes raked up your figure, stopping just below your lips. His tail twitched as his sharp claws flexed against the metal countertop of the bar. He slid across a few dollars to the bar tender in exchange for two shot glasses. 

“Y/n- are you blind- do you not see how he’s looking at you?” Cheri’s teasing voice stole you from your observations. It was getting a bit harder to focus. theatre music blared against your ears breaking your concentration at every available instance. 

“I don’t know” You mutter out, unsure of what to make of the situation. It wasn’t like the demon wasn’t horrendously ugly, with his tall pointed ears and softy fuzzy exterior one might even refer to him as cute. 

“Well I do! I basically live here- so he’s not going to reject you or anything, you should go for it” Cheri said nudging your arm playfully while shooting a sly wink to the object of the conversation.  

“I’m not really here for-“ She cut you off before the uncertainty in your mind could hold the physical space of your words. 

 “Why not he’s cute right?” She quipped twirling a piece of her hair. 

“I guess.. he’s alright, I just don’t know if I’m ready for that..I know it’s not important but- ” You stuttered out. The amount you had already drank and the pressure Cheri seemed to apply made it much harder to express how you truly felt. You had come out with them to forget what had happened and more importantly your feelings for Alastor, but now that that sentiment had phased into reality, nothing about it felt right. You wanted to drown your sorrows and slip into a blissful moment of peace, not fill the hole he left in your heart with the pursuit of another demon. 

“Y/n don’t drag down the night with whatever bullshit is going on in your head. Don’t prove me wrong, I was just beginning to like you. Go dance with him, it’ll keep your mind off whatever you’re stuck on” Through the rough tone of her voice, there was almost a hint of desperation. She sent you a soft smile and nudged you further in his direction. The world seemed to slow down as each passing face lingered in your peripheral vision, each step tapering into slow motion as you walked in his direction. You had hardly given him a hello, before he shoved another shot glass into your hands.  He spoke mostly of himself as he ordered yet another round. The world started to feel less and less real as he whispered utterances of “baby” and “darling”  denying you the autonomy of a true name. He was enraptured with the beauty of your form, he couldn’t care less to anything that lived below that exterior. His hands rested against the exposed skin of your back as you pulled him to the dance floor.

You spin around giggling wildly as his fingers grip tighter into your flesh pulling you closer. His hips grind against your own, as his tail thrashes with the beat. With each sway, the world around falls into disarray. You can hardly make out Cherri’s grin and less than subtle thumbs up as she begins dancing with another demon she had come across throughout the entirety of your conversation. She grabs their hand and leads them out the door. Your dance partner senses your attention falling elsewhere, he places his thumb against your chin tilting it back in his direction. For just a moment, his deep red eyes seem to encapsulate a glimmer of  Alastor’s own. The longer you gazed into his eyes the more apparent it was that their darling shade of crimson was their only similarity. Alastor had never looked at you in such desperate hunger. His eyes always held an aura of care. 

“What do you say we get out of here baby? You’re a fantastic dancer, but I’d like to chat with you more.”

He whispers into your ear as he places a hand behind your neck. The two of you are impossibly close, teetering on the edge of a kiss. His hands trail down your back and underneath the hem of your skirt. You take a step back but his grip grows tighter, keeping you within his grasp.  Angel, who had been viewing the scene from afar, practically bolted in your direction. 

"y/n- who the hell is this?” Angel steps between the two of you sending the man a glare. 

 “Give us some space” You whisper, your eyes locked with Angel's. He rolls his eyes in response, turning his focus to the man you had been dancing with. “Yeah.. give us some space” he adds in his direction, bitterness overtaking his normally sweetened tone. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You retaliated taking a step away from Angel. "I promise. Its fine." 

 “It’s what I meant though…I’m all for blowing off steam at the end of a long day but this is going too far”  He huffs grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor and towards the front of the building.

“Oh like you’re one to talk. You’ve been throwing back shots since before we got here. We were just talking” You mutter, as he opens the door to the exterior of the club.   

“No you weren't and you know it- Also Y/n.. I hate to break it to you, but you are like maybe five feet tall” He laughs, placing his arm on your shoulder. 

“Angel-“ you cross your arms, shrugging him off.

“MAYBE” He places his finger against your lips, effectively shushing you. “MAYBE with a few inches tacked on the end...Your tolerance isn’t going to be as high as mine” He sends you a playful wink. 

“Bullshit- I’m just having a good time” you retort slapping his hand away. 

“No, you aren’t. Nothing about your body language or your face or fucking anything about you even hinted that you were enjoying that” he huffs flinging his arms out dramatically. “What’s really going on with you?” he asks pointedly, the tension in his body visible as the fur on his chest puffed out a little more. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t see why you care Cherri is doing the same things I am go bother her if your savior complex needs a new victim” you snap back at him. For a moment his face falls, his heart fragmented in the reflection of his eyes.  

“Babe- you’re wasted, you don't really mean that" he said with a small laugh in the attempt to mollify the situation on both sides. 

“everyone here is” you retort. You ignored the look in his eyes, tears pricking in your own as you turn back to the entrance of the bar. "Leave me the fuck alone Angel. We work together, you don't need to pretend to be my friend because you feel bad about yourself. I don't need pity especially not yours." you seethe placing your hand on the door in front of you. You knew you were being unreasonable, but whats said and done cannot be changed. Even if the rage you directed at him was not his to carry, fire does not care what it burns and bridges are not often rebuilt. Whats done is done, if Hell had taught you one thing, there was no way around that fact. 

“Can you just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on” He yells grabbing the sides of your shoulders. Your eyes grow wide shocked at his reaction. He lets out a sigh ”Look.. I'm sorry Y/n...I’m just worried about you.” his voice is barely audible. "I know I'm not the best friend in the world or even a good one, but you're all I've got. You don't get to tell me thats not worth anything so just cut it out and tell me whats wrong..this isn't like you." His grip on your shoulders softens and eventually falls as takes a step back.

“My ex-fiancee showed up at the club, its stupid I know its not important but that asshole knows how to get to me" you finally admit. 

“Oh realllyyy" His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Was it that cat sinner who used to work there- y/n i think you have a type," he laughs "but I always thought you two would be cute together” he smiles attempting to lighten the mood. 

His smirk drops as your face remains stagnant, clearly unamused. He sends you a more genuine smile, taking a seat on the curb patting the ground beside him.

 "It must be really bad if you've lost your taste for my impeccable sense of humor" he adds as you sat next to him indulging his invitation. 

“I knew him in life..he’s kind of the reason I ended up here.” you confess wiping the ghost of a tear from your face

“Oh.. y/n I’m sorry” Angel slings his arm around you offering a bit of comfort. 

“No-no don’t be I don’t want to ruin your fun with my sh-” 

“Y/n you aren’t ruining things,” He says resolutely, grabbing your shoulders with a playful shake "Just talk to me..if you want” His eyes house a desperation you were all too familiar with. Each shimmery pink spoke of his iris held tightly against your skin, begging for a fragment of honesty. 

“It’s fine really…He just.. didn’t have many nice things to say,” you mutter out, tearing away from his gaze and settling your own against the floor. 

“Shit, that’s rough.”  He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a half-hearted smile tugging at his lips as he tried to mask his discomfort with humor. He was never great with words, but that would never stop him from being there for you.

“Tell me about it” you laughed attempting to distract from the unmistakable break in your voice.

“That’s definitely a drinking to forget kinda night..” He let out a short laugh in response, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of genuine sympathy before they darted away to the ground between the two of you. His brow furrowed as he searched for the right words to say.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset with you..You’re your own person and obviously, you can handle yourself-you just aren’t used to this scene and I didn’t want you to end up in situations you’ll regret tomorrow- like I used to do..” He sighed deeply, running a hand through the fluff of his hair.

“Angel,” You said softly, your hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

“You’re better than I am y/n…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you..” His voice wavered rendering it nearly unrecognizable. His casually confident demeanor dropped, as he reflected on the details of his past. Your eyes met his in a moment of understanding, your smiles stretching within them, it was clear you cared for each other even if you had a hard time expressing it. 

“I’m really not. If anything you’re better than me, at least you know when to quit” You chuckle lightly. You take a deep breath unsure of how to accurately express much of anything. The whole night had been a rollercoaster packed with invisible turns and twists divulging into one fucked up experience. “I’m sorry Angel. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you..You’re my best friend it’s important to me that you know that”, your voice softens as you try to convey how much he truly meant to you.

“Don’t go all soft on me Toots, it’s just what friends do.” He says, his overtly confident tone returning as he playfully nudges your shoulder “What do you say we head back to the hotel and raid the bar? It doesn’t matter how shitfaced you get in the comforts of your own home.” The act he so obsessively put on would never drop for longer than a few moments, but it was always comforting to be within his company when it did. You could be yourself and who you had to be all at once as long as you did it together. 

“Self-destructive and Safe? Oh, count me in” You giggle, pulling a few small shot bottles you had smuggled out from your pockets. He takes one, clinking it against the one in your hand. 

After a slight walk, the two of you arrived at the steep entrance to the Hazbin Hotel. It had clearly seen better days, although not the eyesore it used to be, it still projected an aura of delapidation. Not that the two of you cared, it had been a long night and you weren’t done yet, this was just another place to keep the party going. Between stumbling fits of giggles you slumped against his side, taking his hand in yours he opened the large wooden doors into the building. 

“Welcome to The Hazbin Hotel a place where sinners don’t sin for a place to stay unless you ain’t being watched then anythings free game” Angel smirked lifting his arms out like some sort of circus showman. 

Alastor stood on the balcony of the hotel, his gaze fixed on the foyer below. The dim light from Hell’s perpetual sunset illuminated the scene, casting long shadows across the marble floors. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten back here after the fight. Each haunting memory of the argument was hazy, fractured like a broken radio transmission. One moment, he had been facing you, anger flashing between you both, and the next, he found himself back at the hotel.

“Must’ve been some form of magic,” he thought, though magic had never been something he entirely trusted, it was a necessity. Magic is synonymous with power, any and all magic was of use to him—he had long since mastered every trick of the trade—but you, you were something else entirely. How had you managed to fly under the radar for that long if your power was great enough to transport an overlord like himself against his will. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as his shadow slinked from the corner of the balcony, creeping along the edges of the stone like a living thing. It murmured softly, darkly.

“You could use this one, you know. A means to an end. You’ve already hurt her once…she could never love you again but you could still have her.." it hissed.

Alastor scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you never tire of your incessant suggestions, my dear shadow? She is more than that. Much more.”

"You could still use her to your advantage. She's weak, vulnerable, and she's already in your grasp..."

Alastor’s lip curled in irritation, a deep chuckle escaping him. “Do you ever shut up, you little wretch? She is no pawn.”

But the shadow’s words stuck with him, like a splinter in his brain. He could use you, he knew that. But something about it felt wrong, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He wasn’t naive. He could see the way the world operated—power was everything here. Yet as his eyes moved to the figure below, standing in the center of the lobby a pang of something softer tugged at his chest. It was you, severely intoxicated you, but still you. Always appearing when he least expected it. You had this uncanny way of showing up, out of nowhere, like some divine force ensuring he never quite lost sight of what he wanted.

And you were so... gorgeous. More so than anything he'd ever seen in this twisted hellhole.

The sight of you—draped in dim lighting, your features a perfect mix of both beauty and something darker, something uniquely you—left him breathless. His heart pulsed in his chest, almost painfully, as he watched you. He loved you, deeply, madly. The thought of it was strange, disorienting. For a being like him, who had long since abandoned all notions of softness, of attachment, it haunted him. Unfamiliar. But undeniable.

So there he stayed, out of sight and watching you with an intensity that could only be described as obsession. Your presence had shifted something in him, something he couldn’t quite control, and for once, that didn’t frighten him. It was almost... comforting.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the grand marble floors as you and Angel made your way toward the bar, Alastor watched you both intently from the balcony. The hotel loomed over you like a cathedral of excess, its luxurious interior drenched in shades of red velvet and deep crimson. The carpets were stained with the color of blood, and the chandeliers overhead seemed to catch the light in strange, angular ways, like broken glass. Despite the decor’s opulence, there was something unsettling about it all, a sense that everything here was just a little too perfect.

And then there were the windows. Stained glass windows lining the walls, depicting flowers—strange, foreign flowers whose forms never quite seemed to align with anything you knew. They were beautiful in their own right, yet so alien. They spoke of a beauty that was unattainable, untouchable, much like the lives you led here, in this place. They didn’t belong here... or maybe they did.

From your perspective, the hotel felt both too real and not real enough. It was alive in a way that made you uncomfortable, yet at the same time, it felt like you’d stepped into a delightful dream, one where you didn’t quite belong, but didn’t wish to leave.

Angel, sensing your quiet discomfort, nudged you with his elbow. “Relax, doll. It’s just another night in Hell. Let's grab a drink, yeah?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, your gaze flicking back to the bar. Husk was sitting there, nursing a drink, his tired eyes flickering up at the two of you as you approached. He didn’t say anything but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you wonder if he knew more about your situation than you did.

“Hey Husk, this is my dear friend Y/n who is in desperate need of a good drink” Angel practically yells grabbing a seat in front of the all too familiar bar of the Hazbin Hotel. 

“You’re just bringing everyone home these days” Husk mutters sarcastically glancing your way as he grabs three glasses from the shelf and a variety of bottles from the back of the bar. 

“Oh shut up, she’s a good one” Angel’s body slings over the bar as he speaks, he begins giggling at nothing or so it seems.  Husk’s typically bored eyes catch on the curve of Angel’s smile and the messy tousled hair that framed it.

 There is nothing more cruel in hell than the prospect of love.  His eyes filled with a pure haze of adoration, teeming in unyielding clouds of desperation. His smile grasping fervently at the raw precipice of vulnerability; entangled in the fear it could all slip away into the abyss of logic. These moments of observation became his own clandestine affair, a silent ache for an authenticity that Hell would never allow. He knew the way he felt for the spider demon was nothing short of love, yet their hearts were forbidden to intertwine openly. Angel had Valentino to deal with, and he had to deal with Alastor. It could never be anything more than lingering stares and passing glances, but oh how deeply he craved it. 

“How’d you wind up with this one? He’s not exactly a peach to be around.” Husk asks, tilting his head in your direction as he slides a glass to each of you.

“He’s the one good thing to come from working with Val” You boasted patting Angel’s head lightly. 

“Yeah yeah I’m great I know” Angel cuts in wrapping an arm around your shoulder “But how did a bombshell like you end up with a shitbag ex? I’m dying to know” Angel teases tousling your already messy hair. 

"We met when we were basically kids," you said after a long pause, your eyes never leaving the glass. "Teenagers, you know how it is." you shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "It sort of just went from there."

Angel's gaze sharpened, his smirk widening. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "It’s always the ones you know the longest that turn out the shittiest."

You rolled your eyes, chuckling  dryly "Right? We worked together later on his stupid show," you added a bit  more forcefully, as if the words themselves could push the memories away.

Angel made a low noise, almost a scoff, and took a slow sip from his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. "Well, you should’ve known better than to mess with someone in show business."

you glanced up at him, your brow arched in amusement. "We're in show business."

"Exactly." Angel’s smirk was quick, knowing, and laced with the kind of dark humor only he could pull off. “go onnnn” he says with a slight shimmy.

You slump back against the bar, your glass swirling in your hand as the ice cubes clink together. The amber liquid inside your glass has begun to lose its chill, but you don't care. You've had enough to drink to not give a damn. You can feel the heat spreading from your chest, and for once, you don’t mind it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt anything other than numb, and tonight—well, tonight is different.

“Well, there really isn’t much else to say,” you mumble, staring into your glass. Your fingers circle the rim absently as you speak. “I’d loved him for years… I don’t know if it was love, but that’s how it felt. I guess you can’t really call it love if it doesn’t go well. You know how it goes. Eventually, people leave…” Your voice falters for a second, and you can feel the weight of the words like a stone in your gut. You take another drink, feeling the burn slide down your throat. “I’ve never been good at that part, so I waited. A lot of good that did.” You laugh bitterly, staring at the glass in your hand like it holds all the answers. “Eventually, I had to find someone else. Worst decision of my life, but I’d make it again every single time.”

You take a deep breath, then lean your head back against the bar. Your head spins slightly, the liquor mixing with your emotions, making it all blur together. You hear Angel shifting in his seat and you feel the heaviness of Husk's eyes on your form. The weight of the silence seems to press in around you.

“On the house,” Husk grumbles from behind the counter, his voice rough as always. “Take whatever else you want. Just don’t touch my whisky. It’s late as fuck, I’m going to bed”

“Bye,” Angel mutters, not even bothering to acknowledge Husk’s sarcasm. He flips his cigarette between his fingers, eyes glinting as he focuses on you instead.

Your attention shifts back to Angel, and you lean in, squinting your eyes like you’re trying to make sense of him. “So, you and the cat demon?” you ask, a teasing edge in your voice. “I think it’s you who might have a type.”

Angel huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Shut up, Y/N.” But there's a softness in his words, like he’s not as defensive as he wants to be. You catch it, and it makes you press him further.

You tilt your head, genuinely curious now. “What’s going on with you two? I didn’t think you cared about anyone like that.”

Angel leans back on the bar, staring at his cigarette like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. He drags in a slow breath before answering, the weight of his words sitting heavily between you. “I don’t know, okay?” He mutters with a shrug. “I just think he’s cute. That’s all. It’s stupid, I know. But when I’m around him... I don’t feel like just an object. Like I’m not just some... disposable thing to be tossed around.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You weren’t expecting that—that vulnerability in Angel, the crack in his usual cocky facade. You lean forward, trying not to let your surprise show too much. “You think that’s stupid?” you press, watching his eyes flicker as he looks away. “I don’t think it is. I think you deserve to be treated like you're more than that"

Angel doesn’t meet your gaze, instead fiddling with the edges of his empty glass. He lets out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. I’m just... maybe I’m just hopeful. Maybe one day it’ll turn into something real. But who knows, right?” He lets the words trail off, his tone growing quieter, almost uncertain. “It’s dumb, I know.”

Before you can say anything more, Angel stands up and heads to the shelf, grabbing another bottle of whatever's closest to him. But as he moves, his elbow jostles the shelf, knocking something off the counter. You both watch in horror as Husk's prized bottle of whisky tumbles off the edge of the counter and crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into a dozen pieces.

“...He is going to be so pissed,” Angel says, his voice almost panicked as he stares at the mess. He turns to you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Do you want to hide out in my room for a bit?”

You don’t hesitate. The last thing you want is to deal with Husk’s wrath, especially not with the way the night is going. “Yes, of course,” you say, grabbing another bottle of liquor as you push yourself off the barstool. You head for the stairs, Angel following closely behind. The idea of getting away from this scene, just for a little while, feels like the right decision.

But as you reach the stairs, you realize something.

“Shit-I forgot my bag,” you murmur, turning back to Angel with a small shrug. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”

Angel nods distractedly, already heading up to his room, and you hurry back down the stairs. You push through the hallway, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way to where you left your bag. Your mind is still spinning, and the alcohol isn’t helping, but you need to get it—need something familiar to hold onto.

That’s when it happens. You’re rushing, trying to get in and out quickly, and you don’t see the vase on the floor. Your foot catches it, and the next thing you know, the world explodes with a deafening crash.

The sound of breaking glass fills the hallway, and you freeze. “Shit,” you mutter, dropping to your knees as you scramble to pick up the pieces. You glance around, heart racing. The last thing you need right now is someone catching you in the act.

But then, from the shadows, you hear it—a soft, almost deliberate rustling. You tense as Alastor appears from the darkness, his sharp eyes gleaming as he watches you for a long moment.You freeze. Alastor. Of course, it’s him. In your hazy, frustrated state, confusion takes over. Your vision is still blurry, and you’re not sober enough to deal with this. Why is he here? What does he even want from you now?

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out more hoarse than you intended, but it’s sharp enough to make the air between you crackle.

“I live here, dearest,” Alastor responds smoothly, his usual theatrical charm present, but his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place.

"I heard she sang a good song"

“Since when?” You stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. He wasn’t here before... Was he?

“Never mind that,” Alastor interrupts, a faint flicker of something darker crossing his features as he steps closer, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. “Just let me help you.”

You scoot back instinctively, pushing yourself up from the floor, the shards of the vase still scattered around your feet. 

You can't think straight—your emotions are too raw. Without thinking, you say, “I’m leaving.”

But before you can take a step, Alastor’s eyes catch something on your hands. His gaze sharpens. There’s a softness, an unexpected concern, as he moves toward you, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a second. He notices the faint scratches on your hands—small but still enough to catch his attention.Before you can react, he reaches out and softly grabs your arm, pulling you back a little to inspect the damage. The gentle touch is disorienting, but you don’t pull away.

“Please, mon cher,” Alastor says quietly, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing, but it carries the weight of sincerity. “Just let me help you... It’s the least I can do after all I’ve..caused you. Let me help you, and I’ll stay out of your life as long as you wish me to.”

"I heard she had a style"

Your brow furrows, suspicion creeping up again, but you don’t pull away from his grasp. “Is that supposed to be some sort of deal?” you ask, your voice sharp, your words coated in disbelief.

“Not at all,” Alastor responds, his tone almost too calm. “Just an agreement. It doesn’t need to fall into writing. Besides, in your current state, I doubt you could accurately hold a pen.” His lips quirk into a half-smile, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes.

“Shut up.” The words are out before you can stop them, frustration boiling over.

Alastor’s smile falters slightly, but only for a moment. He releases your arm, though his eyes stay fixed on you.

 “There’s no need to be rude, dear. I am merely trying to help.” The words are gentle, but there’s a coolness underneath, like he’s waiting for you to take the first step.

You don’t want to engage. But still, you can’t help yourself. “And what good would that do? You’ve already told me all I need to hear.” Your voice is brittle now, the cracks in your tone betraying the hurt you’ve been carrying. 

Alastor’s expression shifts, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he sighs, leaning back slightly. “You said some pretty nasty things too, dear, if I recall.” He huffs, a playful edge to his voice that’s trying to cover up the heaviness between you both.

“Nothing unwarranted,” you reply, a small bitterness lingering in your words.

There’s a brief silence as Alastor steps back, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the mess at your feet. He eyes the broken vase with something resembling disdain but then looks back at you. “Let’s call it a truce for now, Y/N,” he says with a smirk, his voice smooth and composed again. “It’s the least you can do after breaking such a valuable decorative asset on my property.”

"And so I came to see her, and listen for a while"

You blink, confused, your eyes narrowing as you glance back up at him. “You own this place?”

Alastor chuckles lightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling for a moment. “I think of myself as merely a benefactor. But yes, you could say that.” He looks back at you with a glint in his eyes, his smile returning, this time with a little more sincerity. “A truce for tonight, and we can go back to being at each other’s throats tomorrow morning. What do you say, dear?”

You’re about to protest, but the exhaustion finally catches up to you, and you sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. “Fine. Let’s just clean this up.”

You both move silently to gather the broken pieces, each of you moving in tandem, a strange sort of quiet cooperation filling the space. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other as you both reach for a shard, and though you try to ignore it, it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

Alastor catches your eye as you shiver involuntarily, the chill of the lobby creeping under your skin. Without a word, he shrugs off his coat and gently drapes it around your shoulders. The soft fabric is warm against your skin, but it’s more than that—it’s a gesture of care that you didn’t expect.

“That should do it for the mess, dearest,” Alastor murmurs after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he’s aware of the fragile truce between you. “Now to get you cleaned up.”

"And there she was this young girl

A stranger to my eyes"

You blink, feeling more disoriented than ever, before the world around you shifts. Without a second’s warning, Alastor teleports you both—your surroundings blurring, the air suddenly thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. When you open your eyes again, you’re no longer in the sterile lobby. Instead, you’re standing in a room that seems to stretch beyond its walls into a lush, almost dreamlike forest.

The scene around you is breathtaking—towering trees draped in moss, thick vines curling around branches like old friends. The atmosphere feels alive, warm, as if the land itself is breathing, and the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves is so familiar, it aches. It reminds you of home—Louisiana, the bayou. The air smells of wet earth, pine, and the faintest scent of honeysuckle. It’s not just a room; it feels like a part of you, like the land that cradled your soul in life.

You walk carefully toward one of the trees, reaching out and brushing your fingers against the moss that coats its trunk. The sensation is calming, and you feel a small lump form in your throat. “It’s just like home,” you mutter softly, your fingers tracing the edges of the moss, which decorates the trees like lace trim on an evening dress.

"Strumming my pain with her fingers"

Alastor steps up behind you, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Indeed it is... it helps me feel... real.” There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that catches you off guard, his usual radio demon facade beginning to crack, just for a moment. He steps aside and moves toward the other side of the room, his demeanor shifting back to its usual composed self. “I’ll fetch you some water... and a painkiller.”

"Singing my life with her words"

The silence that follows is deep, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The only sound is the soft rustle of the bayou outside. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but the stillness makes your thoughts feel sharper, like you can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.

Finally, you break the silence. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and the rawness in your voice is so vulnerable, so unguarded. “Why couldn’t you just say that? I understand why someone like you wouldn’t want me... Did you think I was too weak to talk to about it?”

"Killing me softly with her song"

Alastor freezes. His back is turned to you, but you can feel the shift in the air as his posture tightens. He says nothing for a long moment, and then, his voice breaks through, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “No one will ever be good enough for me not if they aren’t you.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and you can hear the underlying sadness beneath his calm facade. But you need more. “Then why didn’t you stay?” you ask, the question a raw echo of everything that’s been haunting you.

Alastor’s shoulders tense as he turns slowly to face you, his eyes unreadable, though the weight of his silence speaks volumes. 

"Killing me softly with her song"

The night air is thick with the sounds of crickets, their steady chirping filling the silence between you and Alastor. The aftermath of the broken vase still lingers in the hallway, but it feels insignificant compared to the weight of the moment between you two. It’s one of those rare moments when words hang heavy, the space between them charged with something deeper.

Alastor stands a little apart from you, the soft glow from the distant lights casting long shadows across his figure. The red in his eyes has dimmed slightly, but his presence is still undeniably imposing. The air feels charged with the weight of everything unspoken, and it presses in around you like a thick fog. You can feel it closing in as he finally speaks.

"Telling my whole life with her words"

“I couldn’t, Y/N… I died.”

The words land like a heavy weight, and you freeze, the chill of them settling over your skin like ice. Your chest tightens, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in a slow exhale. Your mind spins, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

The crickets continue to chirp in the background, a constant reminder that the world is still moving, even though you’re stuck in this small, suspended moment of time.

“Oh... I... I didn’t know that.” Your voice is quieter than you intended, the confession stirring something raw in you that you weren’t prepared for. The realization that Alastor had died—that the man you once loved had been gone all this time—hits you harder than you care to admit.

“That’s entirely my fault.” Alastor’s voice is softer now, the edges of his usual control slipping. He seems almost… remorseful. “It was a bit of a hunting accident, as you know I’ve been involved with... some unsavory things.” His words trail off, like he’s trying to give you space to process the details. But you don’t need them. You’re already piecing it together—the life he must have led, the dangers of his world. “Quite frankly, I made a mistake. But there was not a second of this afterlife that I did not long just to see you again.”

He steps closer, and the shift in his presence is enough to make you look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—vulnerable, open, raw. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

“I am a vile and selfish man, Y/N,” Alastor continues, his voice low, tinged with regret. “Being here has only exacerbated that. But you... you make me different. I don’t know how else to describe it.” His shoulders sag slightly as if the weight of his own confession is a burden too heavy to carry alone. “I feel like I have purpose again... just knowing you’re here too.”

The words hang in the air between you both, the soft whisper of the bayou outside suddenly feeling miles away. For the first time in a long while, you feel the urge to speak, to let the thoughts and emotions that have been building in you come spilling out. It’s reckless, and yet, it feels necessary—like the truth you’ve buried under layers of hurt and bitterness is finally clawing its way to the surface.

You lean against the wall, your head spinning with the alcohol coursing through your veins, your tongue loosened by it, and the raw honesty that comes with it.

“I just figured you went and found something better,” you mumble, almost to yourself, though the words hang in the air for him to hear. Your voice is quieter now, quieter than you intended, and a small laugh escapes you—a bitter, hollow sound. “Out of the two of us, you were the one who had potential. I was just your assistant. I figured you went and found better.”

"Killing me softly with her song"

The words leave your mouth like a confession, as if it’s something you’ve held in for far too long. You can’t quite tell if you’re seeking closure or if the alcohol has just made everything too raw to keep inside. Either way, you can feel the vulnerability in your chest, heavy and uncomfortable.

Alastor’s posture stiffens, and for a long, painful moment, neither of you speaks. But you notice the shift in him. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, and for a brief moment, you can see the crack in his polished facade. Had he known that his death, his disappearance, would instill so much doubt in you—would leave you questioning everything between you both—he would have found a way back to you. There’s no other way to put it. If he could have, he would have crawled his way out from the depths of hell to find you.

His eyes soften, and you see the conflict in them. His words—those dark, twisted truths—make him feel like he's trapped in the aftermath of his own actions. The power he gained in this afterlife, his position in Hell—it had all made him feel secure, yes. But that security didn’t mean anything without you. It never had.

None of it mattered in the way it should have. Not if it meant leaving you to carry all that doubt, to wonder if you were never good enough to hold his attention. The weight of it presses in on him like a vice, but he’s too proud to show it completely. He is a demon—he doesn’t show weakness. But in this moment, there’s no mistaking it.

 “You were always and have always been so much more than that.” There’s an intensity in his words, a plea beneath the calm exterior.

You can feel the air between you both shift. The space between you shrinks with every passing second, each of you wrestling with the emotions that have lingered for too long. You want to say more, ask him more—but all you can do is stare at him, at the man who’s been gone from your life for so long. The man who came back from the dead, and yet, somehow, it feels like he’s never truly left.

You swallow hard, unsure if you’re ready to hear more—if you want to hear more. But you know that the truth, no matter how painful, is what you both need to face.

“Y/n.. for god's sake we were almost married, from the moment you tumbled into my life, you’ve flipped everything I thought I knew upside down in such a beautifully tragic way. Your voice even if it holds animosity, is pure music to my ears. It calls such a deep desperation within my heart to the surface. I wish I could capture the essence of your smile in stone, that way it would never fade or change. In your presence I feel alive in a way I never thought possible. I truly do love you, and I truly am so very sorry I said those things to you. It is the most important thing in this world to me that you know that none of it was true..I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. I wish there was something I could do or say to erase it all bu-“

You cut him off capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. For a moment, he leans into your touch. Reveling in the warmth of your form and the subtle caress of your thumb against his cheek. Your lips brush lightly against his his eyes closed tightly. As he begins to consciously process what was truly happening he pulls away pushing you further from him.

Your eyes swirl with tears as they fill with hurt, you could not comprehend why he would say such things and then reject your affections. He places his hand on top of yours, sending you a loving smile. 

“My dear, please do not misunderstand me..I want nothing more than to bask in your affection, but it isn’t right to do so currently. You aren’t within a solid frame of mind..If you still desire to do so once your mind returns I will welcome it wholeheartedly, you are all I want, just not like this.” His hand travels to your face, his thumb pushing the tear from your cheek.

“oh okay,” You whisper out. “I’m sorry” you muttered unable to pull your eyes away from his crimson ones.

“Please, don’t be, you haven’t done a thing wrong.” His apology stretched further than the situation required. Its melancholic timbre expressed decades of regret in a single instant. The words held you in the palm of their hand offering a comfort that you had not felt since his disappearance. 

“I’m going to try and find something different for you to wear alright?” He added before his expression could find the opportunity to fall. Reputation was his only strength and he would not dare disregard it, it was all he had to hold onto with you still at a distance.

“What you don’t like my outfit?” You say slightly rolling your eyes, gesturing to the lace lining the bottom of your skirt.

“No, on the contrary, I think you look lovely, I just assume it wouldn’t be the most comfortable to sleep in” He shrugs “Let’s get you cleaned up” He adds taking your hand and leading you up to a spare room.

With a snap of his fingers, a comfortable set of silky carnelian pajamas appears along with a silver-plated hairbrush and a warm cup of tea. He hands you the cup as he wordlessly runs the brush through your tangled hair. Naturally, it reminded you of the life you used to live together, he had taken the time to learn how to care for your hair and committed it to memory. It was an aspect of your nightly routine you had forgotten how deeply you missed. The porcelain teacup warms your hands as he hums a familiar tune. A few minutes passes and for once silence feels comfortable. Finally, he twists the newly detangled h/c strands of your hair into two neat braids, tying them with matching red ribbons. With another snap, he manifests a cloth and a bowl of water wiping the smudged sparked eyeshadow from your face and the red-stained gloss from your lips.

“I’ll leave these here for you to change into if you’d like dear.” He says setting pajamas into your arms before placing a key in your hand. “I’m just next door if you need anything, this will unlock it. Nothing is too large or small darling.” His smile radiates in authentic charm as he closes your hand around it and his own. “Sweet dreams Y/n” He whispers before closing the door hoping you don’t notice the soft blush painting his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. 

“Goodnight Alastor” You murmur as a smile of your own creeps onto your face. You quickly discard the (quite frankly stained) ensemble you had worn to the club in favor of the pajamas he had given you. The room feels a great deal larger without him here, however, exhaustion overpowers your newfound loneliness. You hold the key in your hands for a moment before placing it down on the bedside table and crawling into the downy sheets that had been calling your name since the moment you had seen them. 

Your body drifts within the realm of the subconscious, losing itself in each kaleidoscopic illusion of memory it pressed upon you. Your ex-husband, the dreams that had plagued you since his death, nothing more than thoughts and feelings to the conscious mind divulged into a twisted wasteland. Each flickering falsity fractured into the dissonant landscape. The shadows of your past contorted into grotesque faceless caricatures sketched with ghostly whispers and regretful choices. The figures fought against the edges of your sanity pushing you deeper within the disquieting chaos. You felt the blood soaking your dress corrode your skin until it shattered into the image of his body against the floor. His green eyes glint with the weight the irreversible act bore. His mouth parted to match the ill-fitting angle his head spun itself in. The halo of deep crimson spread from his center like the delicate spines of a cornet clashing against the fading carpet. 

The moment rewinds, twisting into another distorted tapestry before you can resist. 

“Without me, you’d be nothing. You owe me this”

The man you had regretfully married screamed into your ear, shrill and desperate. His words form tendrils around your wrist, dragging your hand to the kitchen knife clenched into your fist. His gasps polluted the air in whiskey-scented poison as you punctured his skin. His body falls in a cascade with your distorted thoughts, blurring the thin line between paranoia and relief. His eyes, once drenched in an ocean of fury now rest in a gossamer pool of milky white. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it- I didn’t mean to-“ his body made contact with your floor before you could stutter out the end of your sentence. The hypnotic image swirls within a hypoxic cacophony, suffocating you in its remorse-ridden blaze.

Before the flames could truly engulf your form, your eyes shoot open meeting the deeply concerned ones of the radio demon. His ears lay flat against his head, gently wisped in vulnerability. Your trembling arms reach up and cling to his without another thought. He sits down beside you gently guiding you into his lap. 

“It’s alright dear, I promise you are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. It was just a nightmare mon coeur.” He whispers into your hair as he holds you close. You sob helplessly into his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder. You weren’t used to the aspect of comfort after a nightmare, you clung to him as if he would suddenly dissipate if you didn’t hold the pieces together. 

“My dear..please, it was just a nightmare. You’re safe now I promise you” His tone is softly desperate, wanting nothing more than to take this away from you. Somehow, he manages to pull you closer into his arms with a tenderness you had yet to experience within your expansive time in Hell. 

"Would it be helpful to talk it through?" Alastor asks, his voice calm, gentle in a way you rarely hear from him. His eyes flicker with that strange, unsettling depth, as though he’s anticipating something, but he isn’t pushing. He’s merely offering.

You hesitate, unsure if you even want to go there. Your heart is still racing, the lingering echoes of your nightmare digging at the edges of your mind. It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of everything swirling around in your head. You glance down at your hands, picking at the edges of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze.

"I don’t know…" You swallow hard, trying to calm the sudden tremor in your voice. "I’ve never really talked about them before." The words feel strange in your mouth, like you’re admitting something you’ve buried for years. "I don’t even know why it affects me so much. It just does."

There’s a softness in Alastor’s eyes as he steps closer, but still, he doesn’t try to touch you. It’s as if he’s giving you space, waiting for you to find the words.

"If you wish, I am here to listen." His voice is steady, like the gentle hum of a distant radio, but there’s a sincerity in it. Something rare, something you’ve never expected from him.

For a moment, you just sit in the quiet. The weight of the past is pressing down on you, and you almost feel like you’re suffocating. But there’s something in Alastor’s unspoken presence—something that draws you in. Maybe it’s the way he seems so patient, so understanding despite everything between you. You take a deep breath, your mind still racing.

"Alright..." Your voice comes out softer than you expect, barely a whisper. You wipe your hands on your pants nervously. "It’s nothing really... I don’t know why it affects me so much." You shake your head, frustration making your words come out faster. "It’s just a reminder of why I’m here. Why I ended up like this."

Alastor doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely, his sharp eyes never leaving your face. His head tilts slightly, like he’s trying to understand something deeper—something you haven’t said yet.

"How do you mean, dearest?" His tone is curious, but it’s not prying. It’s soft, inviting you to share without forcing the issue.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a heavy blanket. Your chest tightens, the memories threatening to rush in all at once, but you push through them. For some reason, talking to him feels... different. Almost like he understands, in a way no one else ever did.

"After you left…" You pause, trying to steady your voice, trying to get through it. "I got married." You don’t know why you say it like that—it sounds so... final. But it was, wasn’t it? A chapter of your life that should have ended long ago, but you never knew how to turn the page. "Things weren’t great." You shrug, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. It feels too absurd to even mention.

Alastor doesn’t react, just stands there, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t need to say anything—he’s not pressing you, not making you feel like you have to hurry. He’s simply giving you the space to speak. And somehow, that’s the hardest part. It’s easier to keep quiet, to bury everything. But now, with him standing there, watching you with an almost disarming patience, you realize it’s time to face it.

"It was purely out of necessity." Your words come out clipped, almost too fast. It’s like you’re rushing through the confession, trying to distance yourself from the pain, but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. "I didn’t love him. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of such a thing anymore."

The air in the room feels thicker now, charged with the weight of everything you’ve just said. You realize how heavy those words were, how long you’ve carried that silence. 

"That... that doesn’t sound like a life well-lived." His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful, saturated with regret. He speaks as though he’s reflecting on your words rather than speaking from his usual position of authority.

“He was cruel in ways description can’t really do justice to.  We had a child together, my daughter, Elise.. He never laid a hand on her..not usually. I would never allow it, I figure it’s better me than her...I’m the part of the reason why she existed in the first place, Its only fair I take that on.”  The nightmare still lingers like a fog in your mind, and the silence around you feels both suffocating and comforting at once. Your gaze drifts aimlessly across the room, but you can't quite focus—everything feels distant, almost dreamlike. A knot tightens in your chest, but you force a slow breath to steady yourself. You want to look at him, to see if there's any understanding in his eyes, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you trace the edges of your nail with your finger, the small, repetitive motion grounding you, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“I don’t really know what happened, but it sort of changed one day.  She was nine or so.. He had come home drunk as he often did and things turned violent. She was only a child, naturally she couldn’t withstand as much as I could..And.. and He had killed her..and so I returned the favor.” You open your mouth to say something else, but the words get stuck. Instead, a broken, strangled sob escapes your lips—soft, almost imperceptible, but heavy with years of hurt. It's not the kind of cry you can control. It’s hollow, void of all the sharp edges of pain you'd grown used to; just a quiet, numbing release of everything you’ve kept locked inside. Your chest feels tight, your breath shallow, but the tears don’t come in a rush. It’s like your body can’t remember how to mourn properly. All you can do is sit there, head hanging low, shoulders trembling with that quiet, aching sob that feels as if it’s made of pure exhaustion. You want to scream, but you can’t. You can’t even look at him as the silence presses down on you, suffocating

Alastor's sharp gaze softens as he watches you. He’s used to control, used to being the one in command of every situation, but this—this is different. Your fragile, broken sobs cut through his practiced exterior, and the smallest flicker of something unrecognizable crosses his face.

His body is torn between wanting to comfort you and not knowing how to offer it without making everything worse. His voice, when it comes, is low and almost strained, as if he's fighting the instinct to raise it—something he’s done to keep his own emotions at bay.

"Y/N..." The name falls from his lips like a whisper, the sharp edges of his usual tone dulled, softened by something far more human. He reaches out, but hesitates, his fingers just shy of brushing your shoulder. He doesn't touch you, but his presence looms—close, suffocating in its weight. "I didn’t mean for it to be like this." His voice cracks slightly, a faint tremor you wouldn’t normally hear. "I’m… sorry. For what it’s worth."  He’s not used to offering comfort—it feels foreign to him—but the sight of you like this, unraveling in front of him, tugs at something deep inside him. 

“Please don’t be..I’m not. I regret so many things.. but I can’t force myself to truly regret those actions, and yet their memory haunts me.” You whisper as tears well in your eyes once more. The weight of your confession hung heavily above your head, threatening to crush what was left of your fragmented heart. You let out the yawn you had been holding in, revealing your tired state.

“Perhaps it’s best to try and get some rest” He softly laughs out, lifting you from his lap and placing you onto the bed. As he stands, his eyes can’t help but linger within your own. A few moments pass as you each have the first true chance to observe how vastly you both have changed. His hair still held the same wave it used to, flopping delicately around his face. The curled strands framed each expression that wandered onto his face in a deep softness unlike any you had encountered before. His smile, however, was nothing more than a diaphanous veil. His eyes drenched the rest of his face in a somber sodden mask. His eyes drifted to the ground as he turned to walk out the door. 

“Wait” Your voice is small as you grasp onto the cuff of his sleeve. “Please don’t go” His eyes bore into yours, his soul reflecting the love he held for you through the crimson-boarded windows of his eyes. His smile was soft and genuine, like those he used to give you so often in your time on earth. He ponders this proposition for a moment before he lets out a small breathy laugh.

“Of course mon coeur.. I  promise I will stay as long as you wish me to” He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. 

“However, you may not remember this whole ordeal in the morning as well as you do now. Considering our previous argument, I think it’s best I maintain a small bit of distance to not worry your sobered self in the morning.” He whispers placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. He sat himself within the slightly tattered scarlet chair that was placed next to the bed. 

“M’kay” you murmured out sleepily. The exhaustion of the night had finally begun to enrapture your form as you tucked yourself under the covers. Before you could protest, your eyes began to droop into a more peaceful slumber. 

Alastor kept his promise, he remained perched in the armchair beside your bed throughout the night. His hand found itself placed against your back. He began to trace the lines of your history together into your skin, as his thoughts started to shift to the past. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1929: The bookstore next to Rosie’s shop.

(shush they’re alive at the same time on the grounds of I SAID SO also Rosie's Dialogue is pink in this segment!)

Alastor’s legs carried him to the bookstore faster than he could commit to telling them no. The shop was their secret meeting space, it offered the close comfort of a good book and the privacy Rosie’s store could never offer. Rosie was a slender woman who despite her youthful age and progressive spirit, was a ghost of his past. They had grown up together, she had watched the disillusioned spirit of his youth rot in tandem with her own. With each passing year, their golden facades had been tarnished, corroded by the cruel hands of experience. Their connection flickered with the dimming light of nostalgia and the glow of understanding.

 If he was conflicted, there was no reality in which he wouldn’t rush to her opinions and overwhelming honesty, and boy was he conflicted. The object of this confusion was none other than you. Something about your presence seemed to reverse the rot in his heart. It made him softer in ways he didn’t truly understand. He would cancel every meeting and appointment within his schedule if it meant he could spend another few moments with you. On some level, this was normal. He had always held a drastic level of care for you, but through the years it had begun to shift to something more. 

He twirled a small golden ring in his fingers each movement dancing within the fabric of his coat pocket. It was almost as if the ring had begun to solder itself to his skin, constantly conducting the electricity of the desire and love that coursed through his veins. He would tell himself the only reason he had bothered to purchase such a thing was a drunken mistake. He had drunk a bit too much on one of your dates years ago, and had purchased it on a whim…that was all, or at least that’s all it could be. It was unrealistic to think something along those lines would work out between you two. Yet, he still kept the damned thing in his pocket, maybe you would mention marriage in passing, and maybe that would be enough to lift the ring from his hand and place it onto your own. 

He knew thoughts like that were silly and unprecedented. Marriage could never be the result of his feelings, it would make them too real. He couldn’t seem to get rid of them, no matter how deeply he knew it would benefit you. If he did marry you, there was no reality in which you would not discover the horrors of his secret life. He had always been selfish on some level, but in this situation, it would never feel right. He could never hurt you.

 His conflict had driven him to Rosie’s doorstep and promptly next door to the bookstore. If anyone would know how to deal with this, it would be her. She knew you both evenly, naturally her perspective would hold some merit. He had brought you to one of his weekly lunches with Rosie a few years prior after you mentioned an interest in meeting his other friends. The two of you were practically attached at the hip from the moment he introduced you. If anyone would know how he should proceed, it would be Rosie. She was far more trustworthy than most gave her credit for, he wouldn’t have to worry that she would tell you his thoughts like he would if he had spoken with Mimsy or one of your friends.

The bookshop was quaint, filled with antique furnishings and the scent of aging paper and well-weathered leather. Dust dances lazily in the golden beams of the sunlit window behind him. Alastor sat restlessly in the reading nook anxiously fiddling with his hands as Rosie browsed the books in the store’s eclectic collection. She kept a subtle distance as she knew he would have an easier time with honesty if he did not have to meet it face to face. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he rattled on about his dilemma.

“She’s my Terpsichore Rosie…She could command me to drown myself with her song and it wouldn’t have mattered because I would have already done it anyway…Everything about her just entrances me. That’s dangerous…I’m dangerous. I can’t involve her with something that could bring her harm..especially if I would be its catalyst… I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from her. Perhaps I need to remove myself from her company for the safety of-“ 

She cut him off turning abruptly, as she placed the book in her hands back on the shelf.

“Alastor- Darling you should do anything but. You can’t be so caught up in the past that you miss your future”. She sat next to him on the aging loveseat. Her eyes did not meet his, instead, they remained focused on the world behind them through the window.

“Rosie I don’t think you fully understand my “tendencies” He murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He nervously twisted the ring in his pocket, a silent reminder of the question that begged to burn into reality. 

“I know all about the little stunts you pull darling. I just think you’re giving them too much power over you” She replied gently, shrugging her shoulders. “Y/n is a wonderful girl, she is the kindest and most understanding person I’ve ever met this side of the city. Don’t let the right person slip away because you are determined to make it the wrong time. If you don’t want to hurt her, then don’t hurt her. It’s that simple. Even if you are “dangerous” then make the choice not to be for her, she is worth it.” She said firmly, her words embalmed with conviction. She gingerly placed her hand onto his shoulder in silent support of his uncertainty. 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way” He mumbled, mulling over her words. As he thought on this, the tension in his body began to dissipate. He took a deep breath, finally able to release the weight he had packed so heavily onto his shoulders. 

“Of course, you hadn’t-“ She giggled, getting back up to fetch her book. She flipped through its pages as she spoke.“What better place to protect her from so-called “dangerous things” than from by her side? You might consider yourself to be dangerous, but there are people in this city that could do far worse to her.” Her words were nonchalant but their meaning resonated within his mind with great urgency. 

“I need to see her” Alastor declared. The surge of desperation in his voice was almost palpable. His heart pounded harsher than it ever had before at the intensity. He flew from his seat and rushed towards the door. 

Before he could leave, Rosie called his name dragging his attention back to his current location. “Oh one more thing, Alastor?” Rosie spoke plainly with a hint of malice tucked in her tonality. 

“Hm?” He hummed, confused as to what she could possibly want at a moment like this. 

“I swear to god if you harm a hair on that sweet girl’s head you’ll end up worse off than your victims” She smiled fiercely, and he returned it. He hurriedly closed the door behind him with a soft thud, the bell on top of it reverberating within the space. He had no intention of letting any harm come your way, especially not of his own volition. Tonight would be the night he finally allowed himself to fully care for you without his own self-determined repercussions. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You let out a soft hum in your sleep snuggling deeper within the sheets. He glanced back at your sleeping form, your softened breaths filling his ears as his heart tinged once more in his eternal regret. He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, and for the first time in decades, his plastered-on smile truly felt real. In that moment he had allowed his soul to fully tie itself to your own.  Even if you would never accept his apologies, he was going to love you until his body betrayed its physical form and faded to dust, and if it were possible he would love you long after. He would revert hell to nothing more than ashes and rebuild it in your image even if you could not bear the sweetened saccharine of his words or the touch of his hand…He would suffer through any despicable action just as long as it granted you a fraction of happiness.

It didn’t matter if forgiveness was within the cards, even if it meant bargaining his soul, he would help you get your own back. 

so y e a h that happened! uh that was lowkey kinda garbo but yk what im back upon my bullshit so y u h its fine (the sad part on a personal level is that 95% percent of this was already done i just had to add like 5-10 action lines and a couple of descriptions here and there-)

[allthecastlesonclouds]

whoa it’s the boy it’s the guy he’s in (limited) color

[tojisun]

im back online and pookies look at my press-ons ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

[royalnavyart]

Lord please free me from this wretched heathen… teach me how to resist temptation.

[alinelie]

🌙

[feroluce]

"I miss my wife, Tail, I miss her a lot."

- Hanya to Tail every time Xueyi gets her body destroyed

[kaiserouo]

Been wanting to shout this out since the beginning of whispers in the walls

[dyk3ang3l]

i’m too masc for masc lesbians that want to date a fem but at the same time i’m too fem for masc lesbians that want to date another masc lesbian. it’s sick and twisted. truly.

[mechazushi]

Here, have a shittily made Atlantis reference... [Spoilers? For chapter 117.]

"You do swim, do you not?"

I swim pretty guy-

PRETTY GOOD! I mean pretty good. I swim pretty good...

When I tell you that Ancestor Hoshina has a grip on my psyche, it does not even begin to scratch the surface of how feral I have become.

I am not even a Hoshina main, but I just keep coming up with ideas for Ancestor Hoshina x Modern Kafka. I have a whole ass SKIT in mind if Kafka ever got isekied and traveled back to before the Meraki Era or some shit and met Vice Captain's uncle. (In my head, he's the uncle.)

Kafka: (Drops out of a portal three months after disappearing into one) Holy shit guys, you are never going to believe what just happened. Scientist: We actually have a pretty good idea. Everything you did managed to end up in history books. It's how we found out what happened and pinpointed your location. Kafka:[Nervous] What... ended up in the history books? Scientist: That you ended up as a cryptid for a while, then met Hoshina's many great grand uncle and somehow roped him into an insurance scheme- Kafka: Okay, first off, the insurance fraud was his idea, and second, it was a very shitty insurance scam. We donated back every penny to the people we got it from! Scientist: Was it also his idea for you to be his closeted concubine? Kafka: . . . Kafka:Please tell me Vice Cap doesn't know. Scientist: He was the one that flagged it. Kafka: [sweating bullets] Scientist: He's currently being restrained in the other room. {One room over} Hoshina: [currently wearing the n.10 suit] I JUST WANT TO TALK. Okonogi:[physically holding him back] Not like this, you're not!

@iceclew Just making sure you see this so you can laugh at how bad it is. 🫶

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

me irl at any given moment

[maryse127]

Put my 18 hour Kingdom Hearts playlist on shuffle while working on my assignment and was fully unprepared for the emotions any and all Daybreak Town songs evoke in me

[elizasidepiece]

me when I listen to "Say Don't Go" by t swift and imagine remadora

[iholli]

help me I thought about the Justice Lords for more than five seconds again

including some slight design upgrades pulling from a handful of artists I've seen as well as heavy possessed!Superman from MAWS influence & light referencing from JL Doom Ma'alafa'ak for J'onn and tbh I got so obsessed doing the designs I might go all out for all of them at some point. I love them sm help me. rambling under cut

I really wanted to do this concept and while working on it I was like "but why would Wally be there?" Rat King is a dimension traveller. the way her lore is shifted for the Lords, she'd learn to control her powers and eventually realize "I can just hop to a dimension with a living Lord Flash" and she found one without a League [very likely with help from Batman]. that's lore I will figure out some other time. so they get to have trio shenanigans again :]

of course Lord Supes, who I think should exclusively go by Kal-El rather than Clark, is still so laser focused, that never changes. he doesn't want the others to let their guard down or let up their hold over the planet even if Wally is back, perhaps especially because he's back. J'onn always has a soft spot for his family tho and if Rat is smiling he wants to keep it that way :] she just got her brother back, the Lords can have this for a moment, and J'onn is powerful enough Kal-El won't argue with him. Bruce would say the same thing anyway.

"why does Superman have scars" shhhh. it looks cool. and he's a bitch in this universe, man can look a little fucked up. same reason J'onn just has tears in his costume. the ✨ vibes ✨