#habin alastor

[writingwhimsey]

How Does A Good Girl Go To Hell? Ch. 2

Chapter 2

My eyes opened to a red ceiling above me and a soft bed beneath me. Slowly I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I then looked around, taking in the room. Deep reds were everywhere…and surprisingly hearts. 

“What…where…” I mumbled to myself. It was then that I recalled the events that happened before passing out.

“That’s right…I…I ended up in Hell.” I muttered to myself. “But this…this room is so nice…”

I looked to the right of the bed and noticed a small yellow duck on the nightstand. It was dressed up to look like the little mermaid and there was a card next to it that said, “Welcome to The Hazbin Hotel, Ariel! We are happy to have you here!”

“What in the world? How…how can this be hell?” I asked as I picked up the little toy.

That was when I noticed my hands. My skin…was gray. I had always been a bit on the pale side… but gray?! I kicked the covers aside and walked towards mirror I saw hanging on the wall. I took a deep breath before looking at my reflection. My skin was gray all over…my hair…it was once red…now it was white. But that wasn’t the most surprising of my traits…but my eyes.

My eyes were…completely different. I looked like some Halloween monster with these eyes. The whites of my eyes were now black and the iris was yellow with a still black pupil. I blinked a few times as if I could clear my vision, but it wasn’t changing. “I just…this doesn’t seem real…”

Upon opening my mouth, I saw that my teeth were sharp and pointy. “What…”

It was then that I remembered the spider guy who had saved me earlier. Angel had been his name. I wondered if he was somewhere nearby. I took a deep breath and headed towards the door, opening it up and stepping out into a long hallway.

“This place must be huge.” I muttered to myself as I started to wander around. “Hopefully I can find my way around here.”

Meanwhile downstairs…

“What do you think, Vaggie?” Charlie asked, an excited smile on her face as she finished hanging up a banner that read “Welcome Ariel!” 

Nifty was vigorously cleaning the room, while Husk was getting drinks ready. Charlie had already hung up balloons and streamers. Vaggie was smiling at Charlie, but thinking of a way to help out. She had only been gone for a short while and somehow Charlie had put all of this together.

“It looks great, Babe.” Vaggie began, “And i know you wanna welcome Ariel and that you’re excited, but…well I mean Angel did say she passed out after learning she was in Hell. Maybe we should just…tone it down a little?”

“I thought about that, but then well…wouldn’t it be good for her if she can see that it’s not so bad here?” Charlie replied. “I thought maybe if she sees that at least here at the hotel is super nice and welcoming, Hell wouldn’t seem so scary…besides she’s a fresh soul. Maybe she’ll be a little more eager for redemption.”

“I know you have good intentions.” Vaggie replied. “And I admire how positive you are and how much you want to help her. Seriously your big kind caring heart is one of the things I love most about you. I just think maybe we should get to know Ariel first before we do such a big party. Too much at once might not work for her.”

Charlie sighed. “I know…you’re right…maybe we can just leave the banner?”

Before Vaggie could respond, Lucifer was coming into the room carrying a large gift basket. It was filled to the brim with an assortment of items one might find useful to have in Hell…and a large duck. “What do you think of the welcome basket I made, Charlie? Do you think this will go well with all of the decorations I put up?”

“Wait, YOU put up all of the decorations?” Vaggie asked.

“Of course!” Lucifer answered, smiling brightly. “I mean, I want to help make my little girl’s dream come true. So I want to make this hotel the best place in all of Hell!”

I know exactly where Charlie gets it from. Vaggie thought, thinking of just how alike the father and daughter were. “I see.”

“It looks great, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed. She was then looking at Vaggie. “Can we please keep the banner and the gift basket? Aren’t they nice touches?”

“What? Why would we get rid of any of it?” Lucifer asked.

Vaggie repressed a sigh. She loved Charlie and her eternal optimism…she found it charming and endearing. And she honestly had to admit…it was sweet seeing Lucifer and Charlie bonding like this. “I just thought you know, it all might be a little much at once.”

“Oh…I…I see.” Lucifer said, taking on the look of a sad puppy.

“She might have a point, Dad.” Charlie said, also looking like a sad puppy.

Oh no…now I have two of them. Vaggie thought as she looked at their dejected faces. “Ugh… okay maybe we can keep a few of the decorations and the gift basket…”

“Yay!” Charlie and Lucifer said in unison.

“Hey what in the world are you guys doing?” Angel asked as he came into the room.

“Just trying to put together a warm welcome for our newest resident.” Charlie answered, smiling brightly.

Angel looked over at Vaggie. “You didn’t try to get them to tone it down a little?”

“I tried…but…just look at them…” Vaggie replied, gesturing to how excited the father and daughter looked.

“I see your point.” Angel replied. 

“I just want her to not feel so bad about being here, that’s all.” Charlie said. “Let her see that she has a nice place here.”

Just then they could hear the sound of the elevator dinging and the doors opening. They all watched as Ariel hesitantly stepped off the elevator. Her eyes went wide as she looked around. “What in the world…”

Charlie was instantly buzzing over to her and taking both of her hands in hers. “Hi, Ariel, I’m Charlie and I just wanted to make sure you felt a nice warm welcome here to our hotel!” She was so tall, she towered over Ariel.

“Sweetie, back up just a bit.” Vaggie said, coming over and placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, right.” Charlie said.

Ariel was looking around the room and her eyes locked on Angel. “You brought me here?”

Angel nodded as he came over. “Yeah, I promise you, you’re safe here.” He said. “Little Miss Sunshine here just loves to help people.” He said, cautiously lifting a hand to pat her on the head. 

Ariel nodded. “So…where exactly is here? And who are all of you?”

Charlie was smiling excitedly at her once again. “Right, so I am Charlie. The owner of the Hotel. This is Vaggie, my partner. You’ve already met Angeldust, one of our residents. That’s Husk over there. He’s our bartender. This Nifty, our maid. Alastor is around here somewhere. And then this is my dad, Lucifer.”

Lucifer was then coming over to greet Ariel. He awkwardly held out his hand. “Hello and welcome, Ariel.” He greeted her with a smile.

Ariel’s eyes went wide as she stared at Lucifer’s hand, unable to bring herself to say a word.

Lucifer stood there a moment before letting out an awkward cough as he brought both of his hands up to fix his lapels. “Anyway, we are glad you’re at the hotel.” He said, doing his best to fight off a dejected look and keep up a cool front.

“Haha, looks like your reputation precedes you.” Came the sarcastic voice of Alastor as he suddenly appeared beside Lucifer.

Lucifer glared at the radio demon. “Listen here, you…”

“Dad, Alastor…can you guys not do this right now?” Charlie asked, keeping a smile on her face as she glanced sideways at Ariel who was looking stunned.

“Come on, I think you need a drink.” Husk said to Ariel as he and Angel moved to either side of her and gently guided her to the bar. “What do you like?”

“I…I’m not really a drinker.” Ariel replied.

“We’ll start you off with something easy then.” Husk said, putting together the lowest alcohol content drink he could.

“I don’t know…” Ariel said as she looked at the drink. “When I said I’m not much of a drinker, what I meant was I’ve never drank…drunkeness was a big no no and…”

“Sweetie, you’re already dead and in hell.” Angel replied, patting her on the back. “Drinking won’t kill ya here and ya can’t be condemned twice.”

Ariel looked at the drink, clearly thinking back to her human life.

“We won’t make you drink.” Husk said. “But it might help your nerves a little.”

Ariel nodded. “Alright…” She was then taking a sip and coughing instantly. “Ugh…that burns…”

Angel and Husk both blinked. “That was the weakest drink I’ve ever made.”

“I told you…I’m not a drinker.” Ariel replied, but she took another sip of the drink anyways. Maybe it would help and if she drank more…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, you remember how you died?” Husk asked Ariel.

“Do you really think that’s a good question to ask?” Charlie asked, looking at Husk.

It was then that Ariel bolted upright, her eyes wide. “I…I was in a car accident…I was in my friend’s car…OH MY GOD! Here I am wallowing in self pity about being in Hell…when I don’t know what happened to my friend! I don’t…I don’t know if she’s okay….or if she’s here…or in Heaven…”

“What was your friend’s name?” Lucifer asked, breaking from his glaring contest with Alastor to look at the new resident. “I can find out if she’s alive for you.”

Ariel looked to the king of Hell…the devil himself. She was trying to gauge whether she could trust him or not. Her whole life she’d been told the devil was a liar and master of deception. “Uhm…Anna Green.” She finally answered.

Lucifer nodded and then waved his hands, golden magic flowing and creating a bubble that floated between his hands. Soon an image of her best friend popped up. She was lying in a hospital bed and definitely looked banged up, but she was breathing and her eyes were open. Her husband and daughter were in the room with her, holding her hand.

“Oh, she’s…she’s alive and with her family…I’m so glad.” Ariel said, letting out a sigh of relief.

Lucifer held the magic for a few more moments before letting it disappear. He gave her a smile. “There anyone else you want to check up on?”

Ariel shook her head. “Not…not right now….uhm thank you.”

“Sure.” Lucifer replied, as looked at the young woman. All he had ever wanted was to help mankind…and he was glad that he had been able to help her even if only for a moment.

“Are you feeling a little bit better now?” Charlie asked, coming up to the other side of Ariel and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I…some relief…but I still…I still don’t know why I’m here.” Ariel replied, picking up the drink Husk had made her and taking another sip. “I mean…I thought…I thought I was doing everything right…”

“Well, we’ll get you into Heaven.” Charlie declared.

“Huh?” Ariel asked.

“That’s what this hotel is for.” Charlie declared, smiling brightly. She was then taking in a deep breath as if she were about to start singing.

“Babe, wait…” Vaggie said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe wait just a second…” But there was no stopping Charlie now.

Charlie was pulling Ariel up to her feet and starting to do a little dance as she sang a welcoming song explaining the mission of the hotel. “Welcome to my ho-tel! You’ll forget you’re in Hell!...”

“She never stops does she?” Angel asked looking at Vaggie.

Vaggie shook her head, though she was watching Charlie with a fond smile. “No, but it’s one of the things I love about her.”

[cinnamon-galaxies]

I saw this post by @frostedclock-writes and someone in the comments requested a story about Alastor and reader battling about who's opening the door first. So here's a quick drabble:

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐬. 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

(Alastor x f!reader drabble)

Masterpost | Part Two | Part Three (by @frostedclock-writes) | Part Four | Masterlist | AO3

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You and Alastor walk side by side through the Hazbin Hotel, deep in conversation. As you both reach the end of the hallway leading to the parlor, your hands brush against each other while reaching for the door handle. A shiver runs down your spine, but instead of feeling giddy, you glance up to find Alastor narrowing his eyes at you, his crimson gaze fixed with a strange intensity, almost as if you had offended him.

He clears his throat and raises an eyebrow before reaching out again to open the door, but instead of grabbing the handle, his fingers land on yours.

"What–," he mutters, his eyes flicking between your hand and your face, narrowing further when he notices the grin spreading across your lips.

You chuckle. "Please, after you," you say, pushing the door open, gesturing for him to go first. But Alastor doesn’t budge. Instead, a shadow tendril snakes from the floor and nudges the door closed again.

"Oh, my dear," Alastor begins, shaking his head slightly. "It’s not proper for a lady to open the door for a man," he explains, gently moving your hand aside to reach for the handle himself.

"Excuse me?" You stare at him, the grin on your face fading into a sharp glare, feeling a twinge of offense at his rejection.

Alastor doesn’t flinch at your reaction. Ignoring your rising irritation, he opens the door himself, holding it open with an exaggerated flourish. "After you, my dear," he says smoothly, his voice laced with a teasing crackle through the radio filter, as if daring you to make an issue of it.

You stand your ground, shaking your head. "No."

Alastor raises an eyebrow, the confusion clear in his expression as he tilts his head, the static around him growing louder. "Pardon?"

"I said, no," you repeat firmly, your voice steady but laced with offense. "Why do you think it’s not proper for me to open the door for you?"

Alastor blinks, his ever-present smile tightening at the edges. "Because it’s a man’s duty to open the door for a lady."

"You know I’m perfectly capable of opening a door myself."

"It’s called 'chivalry', my dear," Alastor responds, his voice taking on that mockingly sweet tone he often uses when explaining something he considers obvious.

"And I can’t show you the same courtesy?"

"No."

"Why not?" you demand, frustration creeping into your voice.

Alastor’s smile widens, but there’s tension beneath it. "Because, my dear, I come from a time when a man was expected to treat a woman kindly, to be… gentlemanly."

You cross your arms, staring up at him. "And I can’t treat you kindly?"

Alastor’s eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite place. "It’s not about that."

"Then what is it about?" you challenge, stepping closer. "If it’s not kindness, what is it?"

"It’s about tradition," Alastor says, his tone growing firmer, as if that single word should be enough to explain everything.

"And what if I don’t care about your tradition?"

For a moment, the air between you is thick with tension. Alastor's smile falters ever so slightly, the radio crackling softly as if even he is struggling to find the right words.

"Then," he says slowly, his voice lower, almost dangerous, "I suppose we’re at an impasse."

[doorknobinmyayuss]

Alastor: *learns about lucifers duck collection*

Alastor: ha! what a freak.

Lucifer: 🥺🐥

Lucifer: *learns about alastors furby collection*

Lucifer: What in gods green ass is that!? It’s hideous!!

Alastor: YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE AND INSULT MY CHILDREN?! GET THE FUCK OUT!! NO GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!🤬🔪🔪🔪

[fraugwinska]

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

[victoriousvic]

Zestial x Carmilla Carmine💚💜

[vixien11]

This is my roman empire

[misachan56]

Hazbin hotel / Fanart/ 🖤✨

[geekgirles]

I once read years ago a critique about how it says a lot about Christianity that there can be fallen angels but there is no such thing as ascended demons, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about how that is literally the whole concept behind Hazbin Hotel ever since.

[lexcos101]

Chapter one

When Y/N, Hell’s famous doe demon with an enchanting, siren-like voice, returns to the Pride Ring after years away, her arrival sends ripples through the underworld. Rising from Cannibal Town royalty to a celebrated singer, Y/N’s music has captivated demons across all seven rings. Yet no one is more intrigued than Alastor, the Radio Demon, whose friendship with her mother, Rosie, makes his fascination all the more complex. As he watches her rise, Alastor finds himself irresistibly drawn to uncover the secrets behind Y/N’s mysterious power and legacy. But as her tour unfolds, dark family secrets threaten to unravel—and Y/N and Alastor’s connection could prove as dangerous as it is alluring, challenging both of their worlds and risking everything they know in Hell. Trigger Warnings: (F!Reader, violence, gore, death, dark romance, psychological manipulation, horror elements)

A Doe's Return

From the moment she opened her eyes, Y/N was destined to be someone extraordinary. Known throughout Cannibal Town as ‘The princess of Cannibal Town.’ She carried both her mother’s influence and her father’s mysterious legacy. Y/N was a striking figure in Hell, with features that demanded attention: soft gray fur covering her delicate doe form, dark brown hair streaked with natural white highlights, and her ears tipped in white. Light freckles dotted her cheeks, giving her an ethereal appearance that softened the sharpness of her gaze. But it wasn’t just her looks that made her unforgettable; she had a gift. 

Born with a siren’s voice, Y/N discovered at an early age that her singing could captivate, hypnotize, and sway the emotions of anyone who listened. It was a gift inherited from her father, a sinner in life and Hell, who had been a famous musician known for his silver tongue and magnetic performances. In the late 1900s Georgia, he had clawed his way to the top of the music scene, even if it meant leaving a trail of blood behind him. That dark ambition earned him a spot in Hell, where he eventually met Rosie, Y/N’s mother. Their relationship was an unusual mix of love and secrecy, but in Y/N’s eyes, they were two halves of her world. Speaking of Y/n’s eyes. When her siren voice was on, her eyes would glow. 

When her father disappeared during an extermination, Y/N was heartbroken. She became even closer to her mother, yet as the years passed, Rosie’s protectiveness started to feel more like a cage. As much as she loved her mother, Y/N longed to forge her own path and use her voice to become something more than Cannibal Town’s Princess. Their relationship fractured under the weight of this tension, culminating in a bitter argument that ended with Y/N leaving for good. 

She set off into Hell’s other rings, performing in venues and clubs that would become the steppingstones of her career. Over the years, her voice reached every corner of Hell, each performance earning her more fans, admirers, and recognition. She became known as "The Siren of Hell," captivating audiences with her haunting, mesmerizing voice that could stir hearts, or terrify them. Yet, despite her fame, she kept her identity as Rosie’s daughter a secret, wanting to be recognized for her own achievements and not as a product of her mother’s influence. 

Now, after seven years of freedom, fame, and forging her own way, Y/N has returned to the Pride Ring. And her arrival has not gone unnoticed. She’s scheduled to perform her long-awaited world tour, and all of Hell is watching with bated breath. Little does she know that her mother’s world, and the dangerous attention of Alastor, the Radio Demon—is waiting for her as well. 

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

Y/n's Pov

The bright lights of the 666 News studio were piercing, hot against my skin, but I was no stranger to their intensity. I’d spent enough years under the spotlights to know how to keep my expression calm and composed, to make my nerves invisible to the audience. Across from me, Katie Killjoy was practically bouncing in her chair, clearly relishing every second of this live broadcast. 

She was watching me with a hunger in her eyes, and I knew that look well—it was the look of someone itching to stir up some scandal, find some angle, get a soundbite that would make tomorrow’s headlines. Not that I’d give her that satisfaction. My mother didn’t raise me to be reckless, after all. 

Katie’s smirk widened as she leaned forward, her voice taking on that honeyed, sly tone. “Y/N, you’re Hell’s very own siren star—returning to the Pride Ring after seven long years. Tell us, what’s it like to be back?” 

I forced myself to smile, letting my voice come out smooth and controlled. “It feels good to be back, Katie. I’ve missed the energy of the Pride Ring and its people. I’m looking forward to reconnecting with my fans here.” 

The warmth in my tone wasn’t just for show. I had missed it here, in some strange, twisted way. There was a familiarity to this place that, despite everything, still felt a bit like home. I’d run from it, sure, but now I was back—and that realization settled over me as I spoke. 

Katie leaned in closer, twirling her microphone, her excitement barely contained. “And what can they expect from this tour of yours?” she asked, her voice sweetly venomous, as if she already knew the answer and just wanted to hear it from me. 

I let my smirk grow a little, savoring the anticipation that hung in the air. “Well, the tour will take me through each ring of Hell, from Gluttony to Lust, and then back here to end in the Pride Ring. I want each ring to feel the magic and intensity of the music I’ve created over these years. Each place deserves its own kind of show.” 

Katie’s eyes lit up as if I’d handed her a precious secret. “A true tour de force! Each ring of Hell, just for you! Now,” she leaned even closer, lowering her voice, “here’s a question everyone’s dying to know: are there any Overlords you’d be excited to collaborate with? Perhaps… Velvette?” 

Ah, there it was—the question that practically begged for drama. 

Keeping my expression steady, I leaned back a little, crossing my legs elegantly. I let a hint of amusement sparkle in my eyes as I answered, “I know Velvette’s work, and she’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. But whether my music fits her vision… well, that’s another question entirely.” 

The answer was just ambiguous enough, the perfect balance between intrigue and dismissal. Katie’s face split into a grin, clearly delighted. “Fair enough, fair enough!” She chuckled. “And speaking of powerhouses… have you ever considered becoming an Overlord yourself?” 

This one almost made me laugh for real, but I kept it subtle, a soft laugh that I knew would keep her on her toes. “Power isn’t everything, Katie. Fame and influence can be intoxicating, sure, but I’m more interested in my music and my freedom. Becoming an Overlord isn’t something I’ve ever aspired to.” 

That was true. Power had always come with too steep a price in Hell, and I had no intention of paying it. I’d seen it firsthand in my father, seen what ambition without limits could turn a person into. I wanted success, yes, but not like that. 

Katie tilted her head, a flash of curiosity crossing her face before she smoothed it away. “A humble soul in Hell, ladies and gentlemen—who’d have thought? But we all know you’re far from ordinary, Y/N. After all, it’s not every day a legend returns to the ring that started it all.” She leaned forward again, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “So, tell me… why now? Why come back after all this time?” 

That question hit a little too close to home. I hadn’t expected her to press that hard, but I didn’t let my expression falter. I paused, glancing away for just a second as I considered how much to reveal. When I met her gaze again, I softened my voice, letting a sliver of honesty slip through. “Sometimes, no matter how far you go, a part of you still longs to go home. I’ve traveled, I’ve grown, and I’ve built a career I’m proud of. But Hell’s Pride Ring will always be my roots. I wanted to share this part of my journey here, with those who remember where I came from.” 

Katie’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction, her grin widening like a cat who’d just cornered her prey. But I knew better. She thought she’d gotten something intimate out of me, but the truth, the tangled, complicated reasons I’d come back—were locked away in a part of me I’d never share with her. 

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

Alastor's Pov

The lounge was alive with chatter as the flickering lights of the 666 News studio lit up the screen, Katie Killjoy’s voice sharp and quick as she interviewed Y/N. My companions here at the Hazbin Hotel—Charlie, Angel, and the rest—were thoroughly transfixed. The air was practically buzzing, with Charlie’s eager gasps and Angel Dust’s teasing banter filling the room. 

“Oh my gosh, she’s just incredible!” Charlie exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “And she’s Rosie’s daughter! Can you believe it?” 

Angel Dust lounged back with his typical nonchalance, a sly grin on his face. “Maybe Rosie can give ya an intro, huh? Ya could meet your idol.” His voice, thick with that Brooklyn accent, held a playful tone. 

Charlie gasped at the idea; her eyes wide with excitement. “Do you think she would?” 

Husk, seated at the bar with his usual drink in hand, shrugged as he took a long swig. “What’s the harm in askin’?” 

Meanwhile, my eyes remained fixed on the screen, my grin as wide as ever but with a new glint of curiosity hiding beneath it. I was quieter than usual, watching closely as Y/N answered Katie’s rapid-fire questions with a practiced grace. She was poised, almost regal, with an undeniable command over the room. It was clear she had built her own legend over the years, and the energy from the crowd, even though the screen, was palpable. 

Charlie, noticing my silence, turned to me with a curious smile. “Alastor, aren’t you excited? You and Rosie are close—you must have heard about Y/N before.” 

I tilted my head, letting a small chuckle escape. “Oh, I’ve certainly heard plenty about her, dear Charlie. But seeing her like this, well—it’s rather… intriguing.” My voice, rich with that old-fashioned, radio-announcer lilt, belied the depths of my curiosity. 

In truth, I’d heard about her from Rosie more times than I could count. Stories of her daughter’s charm, her talent, and, on occasion, her stubbornness. Yet, watching her on screen now was another matter entirely. Rosie’s Y/N was real enough to bring tears to her eyes. But this Y/N, this confident performer with the voice that could enrapture Hell’s most jaded sinners, was something I hadn’t fully imagined. 

A doe. Rosie’s little princess of Cannibal Town was a doe demon, with rounded, soft eyes, freckled cheeks, and fawn-like ears tipped in white. In a place filled with hardened demons and terrifying fiends, that delicate appearance was a rarity. I could almost see why she’d become Hell’s siren star—the contrast alone was enough to capture attention, and her voice only amplified the effect. 

There was something almost vulnerable about her look. But I knew better than to be deceived by such a mask. In Hell, after all, the softest creatures were often the deadliest. Y/N wielded that innocence like a finely honed blade, and if her reputation was anything to go by, she did so with an impressive skill. 

The others were enthralled, babbling on about how Y/N had to visit the hotel, and speculating about her tour through the rings. Husk muttered something under his breath about singing talent being wasted on the Pride Ring, while Charlie and Angel argued good-naturedly over who would be the first to meet her if she stopped by. Amidst all of this, I found myself considering her carefully, analyzing her every move. 

To the others, she was simply Rosie’s daughter or the Pride Ring’s latest sensation. To me, she was a mystery wrapped in delicate velvet fur, adorned with a charmingly innocent look that could lull anyone into a sense of safety. And yet… there was that darkness. That glint of cunning that I recognized all too well. 

My smile widened as I chuckled softly, more to myself than anyone else. Of course, I wanted to know more. She’d drawn all of Hell’s attention, and I couldn’t deny the thrill that came with observing such a captivating figure. Yet, my hands were tied in a sense. Rosie was the closest thing to an ally I had among Hell’s cutthroat population—a friend of sorts, if one could call it that here. And she’d entrusted me with much over the years. Digging too deeply into Y/N’s life was hardly fair to her mother. 

No, no. For now, I would simply let things play out. My curiosity would have to wait, if only for Rosie’s sake. But if someday Y/N’s path happened to cross mine… well, I wouldn’t shy away from learning what lay beneath those soft, wide eyes and that polished exterior. 

“Alastor?” Charlie’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. She was looking at me with wide, eager eyes. “Don’t you think she’s amazing?” 

I gave a slow, knowing nod, letting my grin widen just a bit. “Why, yes, my dear. She’s quite… enchanting.” I allowed my voice to trail off, savoring the word as if it held some secret only, I knew. 

Charlie beamed, clearly satisfied with my answer, and turned back to the screen. The others resumed their chatter, but I remained quiet, my gaze fixed on Y/N’s image. Enchanting, indeed. 

[im-kino853]

My frist time drawing them 🤯

[prince-liest]

I come bearing gifts. :)

[b5ttyb1tch]

Hazbin Memes I made Because I was Bored

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Found this meme and saw an opportunity

Close up:

[mitrevisan]

Happy Valentine’s Day!

[fraugwinska]

Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’ 

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable. 

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat. 

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

[victoriousvic]