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crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already · 1 month ago

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Be My Witness {14}

Part 14- Intoxication

Word Count- 8.1k

Content Warning- fake medical science lol, alcohol use, drug use, descriptions of minor injury, descriptions of intoxication, cannibalism, assault (Reader gets man handled by Al), mentions of past traumas

Authors Note- BAHAHAHAHA HEY YALL. happy to be back, long time no see! life has been really busy lately but i finally managed to finish a chapter! woohoo!! this one is certainly a thrilling ride, so strap in and read on!

Tag list!! (i see youz lurkin nyehehe <3)-- @cha0tic-auth0r

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Be My Witness Masterlist!

SONG: PIN-EYE by Jhariah

(unfortunately no lyric video found...)

youtube

It was pure luck that Angel would be getting his popsicles. With the hectic events of the afternoon -meeting Alastor, being mentioned in association with the hotel on live television, running into Val so soon after-, the last of the doe's errands had slipped her mind almost entirely. It wasn't until they passed a grocery store in NorthPen did her steps falter, an advertisement for the cold sticky-sweet treat catching her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Y/n hesitated to go in. Fat Nuggets was getting restless, and she felt exhaustion creeping into her bones, making her ache and yearn for rest. But with another bite to her torn cheek, she back tracked and stepped into the shop.

The hotel was a relief to see as they turned onto the street. Y/n finally felt like she could breathe. She never expected how quickly she'd come to think of this place as home -rickety walls, leaky pipes and all. She and Angel were together, and the hotel was surprisingly safe, making her feel safe. She was yet to see how that held up against Val's temper, but she wasn't letting herself think about that right now. She would find out soon enough.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully as they approached the building, already making a list of all the things he would change. Things he will change as soon as he's in good graces with the Princess.

When they approached the circus tent awning, Y/n waved Alastor toward the front door.

“Go ahead. I'll be there in just a minute.”

The buck stared after her for a moment, curious as she set the piglet down. The creature sniffed around the dirt, its little snout twitching and snorting. When his little hoof started pawing at the ground, Alastor finally turned to the door and knocked.

It took a moment, but sure enough, the door opened. Slow and unsure, a pale face peered up at The Radio Demon. He beamed his best smile.

“Hel-!”

The door slammed sharply in his face, and Alastor stood dumbfounded. A tense beat later, it opened again.

“-lo!”

The door slammed once more.

With an imperceptible twitch of his ears Alastor turned toward Y/n. The pig had finished his business and was now back securely in the doe's arms.

Her expression was haughty, almost smug when his eyes met hers. “Wow. Such a shady character, even Charlie Morningstar rejected you? I really should be concerned.”

“Nothing but a dazzling personality here, dearie! I couldn't possibly know what you're referring to. ‘Shady character’, ha!”

Y/n stood next to him now. As close as when she had tripped earlier, except now it was no accident. The way she looked up at him, her gaze unwavering, the faintest of smiles playing on her lips- it was all very relaxed. Like she had given up her earlier defensiveness. Her chin cocked towards him, her brow raising teasingly as a small laugh escaped her.

Alastor saw it then. The faintest of shimmers on her skin; spider silks fluttering in the breeze and catching the evening sun, caressing her face, her shoulders, her arms. Her magic was at play, coating her in illusions and hiding her true self from him. Barely visible, even to his trained eye.

He forgot himself as they held each other's gaze, and so unwilling to break away from her lure, he began to wonder if she was using her magic on him. Some sort of compulsion power he was unaware of, perhaps.

But, no. Simply a challenge of sheer will. Deer versus deer. Soul versus stubborn soul.

The door opened again, snapping Alastor out of his daze. The pale face stared up at him.

“May I speak now?”

Charlie's stunned eyes found Y/n's.

The doe gestured weakly to the Overlord beside her. “A stray followed me home.”

Charlie looked back at the sinner clad in red, suspicious but also intrigued. “You may…” she permitted the newcomer.

Y/n shuffled past the princess and into the lobby, leaving them to introductions. She felt a sense of accomplishment, managing to get back to the hotel safely with this stranger on her heels. But knowing that he intended to stick around to ‘help’ made uncertainty bubble low in her spine. A dull ache settled behind her eyes and she tried to forcefully shake the feeling off with a quick flap of her ears.

The doe passed a riled Vaggie on her way to finding Angel, who was laying on the sofa. Raggedy, stained, and worn in, it was the only loungewear in the lobby available for seating at the moment, the other couches strewn up against the walls. One of Angel's legs was hanging off the side of the cushions, the other propped up against the backrest. He had a popsicle stick hanging out of his mouth as his upper two hands fiddled with his hair, fingers smoothing through it; a carefully established routine after a successful fight.

He was focused pulling a few bloody strands apart when Y/n approached him, plopping the piglet on his chest before she herself plopped between his spread legs, the bags forgotten on the floor.

Angel cooed at the sight of his precious pet, wrapping him up in a smothering hug. Fat Nuggets didn't mind one bit. He squealed and snorted in delight as he rubbed cheeks with his owner.

The spider turned to Y/n with a smile and a word of gratitude on his tongue but stopped short as he took in the sight of her.

She leaned back tensely, trapping Angel's leg against the back of the couch. Her eyes were closed, brows pinched in discomfort. One of her hands was to her head, holding her temple carefully. She heaved a heavy breath, exhaling long and slow through her lips, which twisted into a soft scowl soon after.

“Sugar?” Angel's hand found her shoulder. “You alright?”

Her eyes cracked open, peeking at him through her lashes as she took another deep breath. Then she forced a small smile to her lips.

“Headache,” she stated simply, shifting in her seat.

Angel's lower arms reached out for her and easily tugged her onto his reclined form. Fat Nuggets traded spots with her, finding himself nestled between the doe's and spider's splayed legs at the opposite end of the couch.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Angel, sinking into his warmth. “Just peachy otherwise,” she sighed happily.

She could hear talking around the corner, Alastors cheery demeanor doing jack shit to ward off Vaggie's suspicion. The silver haired woman growled a curse at the man, her defensiveness giving way to her native language.

Y/n tittered at the insult. Her close exposure to Valentino allowed her to make out the words' offensive meaning. She could only imagine how The Radio Demon felt being aggressively called a son of a bitch. If he even understood that that's what was being said to him.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here,” he began, his carefree words turning suddenly sinister.

“I would have d̶͓̾o̸̜̱͑̀n̶̥̅͝ë̸̯ ŝ̶̛̲̩̭͙̞̼̩̩͈̳̉̋̈͗͆̿͐̅͗̚͝͝ͅo̴̡̼͕̭͖̬͍̤̜̯̎ a̷̢̛̺͖̺̦͈̗͓͔͛̐̾̏̿̒̽͆̀̅̃͌̃̈́̾̓́̉̀͝͝ľ̵̨̡̨̧̙̥̖̺̹̞̦͈̗̳̺̦͕͈͉̠̞͙̠̥̓̄̀͐̔̔̇̒̑̈́͜͝͝r̸͔̰͚͇̙͚̳̦͓̮͖̳̙̰̲̣̞͍̖͕̲̮̳͂͑̊͆̃̂̚̕ͅȩ̶̢̛̟̲̼͔͕̻͎̱̣̳̗̜̬̝̠͈͊͛̋͂̆͗͜ą̵̡͔̜͙̗̩͈̥͕̩̰̹͛͑̈͋ͅͅͅd̵̨̬̯̙̃͂̅̀̌̓̎͗́̀͛͋͌̇̑͋̌̓͋̑͒̓̑̄̕̕y̷̗̍́̈́̃̓̈̔̅̀̋̈́̐̇͛̌͋̀́̀̌̈́̽̌̆̐̍̚͘͝͝.”

Radio static filled the lobby, thick and suffocating. It made Y/n's ears ring and her hairs stand on edge. Her giggles quieted and she flinched, the throbbing in her head amplifying as the room tensed at Alastor's words.

But it was gone as quickly as it came, and Alastor excitedly changed the subject.

Y/n caught her cheek between her teeth, tugging and pulling at the already shredded skin there until it tore further. She swallowed thickly, pushing down the rising nerves once more.

Instead she focused on the tingling in her body, just underneath her skin. It had begun creeping in as she was leaving the grocery store and was now a pleasant subtle pulse. Shadows passed behind her eyelids, shapes and colors hardly discernible due to her low doses. But she was experienced enough with her own blood to recognize the effects. Far too many times she had defaulted to this form of self-administration. A last resort is what she would say to anyone who dared ask about it, which no one did. But really, it was just a nasty habit she developed over the years and couldn't quite seem to kick.

“...Y/n?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes shot open at Angel's voice.

“Did you hear a thing I said?”

“What?” She looked up at him.

“The Vaudevillian Villain over there tucker you out that good, huh?” He gestured toward Alastor who, along with Charlie and Vaggie, had filed further into the lobby. “I thought ya didn't have work today. Val call you in too?” She stared at him, her brain slow to process his implications. “Why did you bring him back here? He must've been real good under the sheets for you to-”

“No, no! He's not a client, Angel. I ran into him on the way home. He said he wanted to help so…”

“Ahhh, I see. A gentleman wanting to lend a helping hand? And just how good were those hands exactly?”

Y/n thumped his chest. “It's not like that. He wants to help Charlie with this place. Or at least, that's what he told me.”

“And you believed him?” The spider's head tilted forward, challenging her with a teasingly inquisitive smirk. “You're not at all blinded by his demon form, deer cunt yearning to feel his big deer co-”

“Woah-kay!” Y/n's hand clamped down over Angel's mouth. Her own head quirked, thinking she had the upper hand in this friendly game. “Y’know, I'd be careful how you talk to me or those popsicles I got you? I'll toss ‘em to the quieves.”

Angel pulled back with a smug smile. “Not if I eat them all first.”

It didn't take much at all for Angel to push Y/n off of him and straight onto the floor. She landed with a thud and a harsh groan. “Oh, you fucking dick.” Despite his roughness, they laughed at each other, her while she rubbed her sore bum, and him while he reached for the abandoned bag on the floor.

Angel sat back with a new popsicle in hand -slightly melted and runny, just how he liked them. Y/n stood and stretched before snatching the ice-pop box and walking it to the fridge, making a big show of it for a watching Angel Dust. He only sucked long and hard on his vaguely phallic shaped frozen treat, eyes boldy holding hers as she walked away, knowing full well he won. They both grinned at their friendly competition.

Y/n indulged in a popsicle. She hadn't eaten yet today and her stomach was starting to make it known. If she had been paying any attention to her bodily cues, she would have gotten something other than popsicles at the grocery store. Somehow the Princess of Hell was struggling to understand the concept of a stocked kitchen.

Y/n settled next to Angel on the couch again, discarding the wrapper on the table nearby.

“Redemption. Oh, the nonexistent humanity! No, no, no, no. I don't think there's anything left that can save such loathsome sinners.”

Suddenly Alastor was talking about, and gesturing, to them. Y/n's face turned sour as she pulled the frozen treat from her lips, and Angel threw his hands up incredulously. Standing next to Y/n, Vaggie looked like she was going to explode, her arms crossed and her jaw clenched.

“There's no undoing what is done.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don't believe in my cause?”

“Consider it an investment! In ongoing entertainment for myself,” Alastor pitched. “I want to watch the scum of the earth struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

Angel spared a glance at Y/n. His brow was furrowed, quirked, as if asking ‘this the guy you brought home?’. Y/n only rolled her eyes dismissively because no, he isn't. And no, she didn't. At least, not intentionally. And certainly not for the reason Angel was insinuating.

The accusations were starting to irk her, uncharacteristically so. She wasn't easily bugged by Angel's comments, not usually. She considered for a moment, maybe it was The Radio Demon’s static and his pitiless words that was dampening her mood. Either way, she needed a breather; a moment to herself, where she may or may not be able to sneak herself something stronger than… well, her cheek.

Alastor pulled Charlie to the other side of the room, falling into thinly veiled flattery. Y/n took that as her chance to get away. With a deep breath, she scooped up Fat Nuggets and his bag, and shuffled toward the rickety grand staircase, popsicle melting in her mouth as she went.

“I'm off to get a bump-” A Freudian slip if she'd ever had one. “Book!” Y/n spun around, a guilty laugh escaping her. “I'm gonna go get a book… to, uhm, read… Yeah.”

Luckily, Vaggie seemed too focused on Charlie and her new guest to acknowledge the slip up. Angel bit back his laughter with a shake of his head as Y/n slowly turned around, hoping not to draw any further attention to herself. Then she was up the staircase and by her lonesome, finally.

Fat Nuggets was dropped off at Angel's room and Y/n was sure to grant him a generous amount of pets before she left him in his new home. Then she trudged across the hall and into her own room.

She didn't bother flipping the lights as she entered. Just closed the door behind her and let the darkness shroud her. Moving through the shadows, she pulled back the curtains just enough to allow her to see what she was doing. A small stripe of light was cast across her bed and Y/n noticed a bag sat there, seemingly waiting for her on the mattress.

The bag that Alastor had taken from her at the start of their walk.

Y/n approached carefully, convinced it was some trick. A bag full of spiders, rabid rats, flaming wasps. Or worse… cheap, impure drugs.

But when she pulled the bag open, nothing jumped out at her or seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, everything was accounted for, and then some. The new clothes she bought for herself, the string light decoration she decided on last minute, and something new -yet strikingly nostalgic.

A radio.

Old fashioned and ornate, it sat among the various pieces of fabric, tucked almost entirely away. She reached for it, pulling the device free from the bag and holding it up to the light to inspect it.

It was heavy in her hands but not cumbersome. The wooden panels were stained and polished, not a splinter out of place as she ran her fingers along the grain. The knobs were a pale ivory, indicators painted with a bold red. The speaker was covered with a hard mesh, wood pieces twisting over it like decorative armor.

Y/n's breath hitched, unsure how she came into possession of such a beautiful work of art. And unsure what she did to deserve it.

...Alastor….

...When did he��?

On second thought, maybe a random and expensive looking gift from an ominously illusive Overlord wasn't a good thing at all…

Still, it was a wonderful piece of technology. It would be a shame if she were to discard it so thoughtlessly... So onto the shelf it went with the other nicknacks she's collected over the years. It fit snugly between the crystal tower Angel gifted her and the handful of books she kept in her reading rotation. A dazzling centerpiece.

With a satisfied nod, she went about her business. She plucked a book off the shelf to take downstairs before bumbling around her room, trying to remember where she'd put her dwindling stash. When she finally found it, her heart sank at how much was left; a measly corner in the already small bag. She took the rest of it quickly then crumbled up the empty bag with a groan and tossed it aside to deal with later.

With her nerves back in check, the rest of the day went by in a blur. Nifty and Husker were interesting characters Y/n was sure she'd be forced to get to know. And of course, the most exciting part of the evening; when a bozo in a decked out blimp busted down the front wall and the chaos that ensued. The Radio Demon was quick to flaunt his scarily impressive power while he bested the serpentine demon. And when that was done and dealt with, he led everyone back inside while volunteering himself to make food for everyone. Which Vaggie, Y/n and even Angel thought was a little too eager, but of course Charlie encouraged him. Though to Alastor’s credit, the first whiff of it out the kitchen and Y/n fell silent mid conversation with Angel.

The spider's recounting of his afternoon battle fell on deaf ears as Y/n closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, gathering up as much of the savory aroma as she could. Her head spun as her mouth watered, and the doe remembered then how little she'd had to eat that day. So when the time came, she joined everyone else in the dining room and took a seat at the table.

Alastor had boasted about this particular jambalaya recipe- something having to do with his mother. Y/n would have probed him about the topic if he hadn't disappeared immediately after presenting the dish. What kind of host prepares a meal but doesn't stick around to see their guest enjoy it? Not the most encouraging in terms of trust. I mean, what if he had poisoned the food? Or cursed it somehow? Or… or… oh, what did it matter when it smelled that heavenly. And the flavor absolutely blew her away. Y/n genuinely couldn't remember the last meal she had in Hell that tasted this flavorful. Explosive, spicy, and wonderfully textured, the doe found herself filling her plate with more than she could eat.

With a full tummy and a foggy mind, Angel hauled her to the new bar while ranting and raving about how relieved he was that alcohol was allowed in the building again. Husker seemed oh-so very thrilled to be serving them- not. The old cat was grouchier than when Angel doesn't get his coke fix.

One, two, three shots went by, as well as a cocktail or two. When Y/n felt her head droop with her eyes, she figured it was time to tuck herself away for the night before she wasn't able to get up for her morning shift. She bid Angel and Husker a goodnight, then trudged her way to her room.

Sleep came quick enough, though it didn't quite stick. She was up a couple of hours later, parched and unable to turn her brain off. So she decided to do some exploring. There were still floors of the hotel Y/n had yet to see, after all. The theatre was yet to be found.

The doe knew she could ask Charlie where it was, but she rather enjoyed meandering through the building and making discoveries of her own. So she slipped something warmer on, grabbed a bottle from the now empty lobby, and set out to look around.

Turns out the hotel also had a confectionery shop, an indoor playground, as well as a nurses office. It struck Y/n how many of the rooms were geared toward children. She even came across a fun house room, complete with distorted mirrors, twisty slides, and shifting, twisting platforms. With a swig of the bottle, she moved on quickly.

At the end of a hallway was a white marble foyer, grand golden doors at its center. Her ears perked up and her tail twitched excitedly as she pushed through the doors; she knew this is what she had been looking for.

If the rest of the hotel was run down, the theatre was absolutely trashed. Shredded curtains, busted seats, and holes in the ceiling with the night sky peeking through at her.

The crown moulding was orchard themed. Apples, naturally. The centerpiece hanging over the foot of the stage was a tall and burly tree. Its cobweb covered branches spread out to either side, reaching all the way around the theatre house. Golden apples, birds, and snakes stood out among the artwork and peered down at her, making her feel a little less alone.

It was but a shell of the theatre it once was. Y/n could tell that much without even having seen its original state. But she didn't mind. She was just happy to be back in a theatre.

She hopped up onto the stage, bottle clutched firmly in hand.

There were still lights fixed to the ceiling, pointed toward the stage, and she figured if she could find a light box she might be able to turn them on. With another swig, she peeked around backstage, through the darkness.

Eventually, on the other side of the stage, she came across a switch box. The protective front panel was slashed open, metal shanks jutting aggressively outward. Y/n didn't have to open the box to know the circuitry was fucked, she could see the damaged switch board through the shredded panel.

“Looking to put on a show, dearie?”

Y/n's heart jumped out of her chest. With a startled gasp, she spun around as the bottle slipped out of her hand and shattered on the wooden floor beneath her. She stepped back in a panic, the sound of glass shattering making her flinch out of the way and bump against the switch box.

Her gaze found who had snuck up on her; the obnoxious newcomer, Alastor. He stood by the curtain and, despite being bathed in shadows, his eyes glowed red with amusement as they scanned the broken bottle at her feet.

“What a terrible waste of whiskey,” he chided unseriously.

Y/n sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“A star's debut on a new stage; how could I miss it,” Alastor said, once again frustratingly blasé.

Her ear twitched and her fur prickled. “New?” Y/n grumbled. “What makes you think I'm new here?” She gestured vaguely to the theatre around her.

“What artist would perform fully in the dark, unless they were unfamiliar with the theatre?”

He had a point, she supposed. Her first instinct had been to turn on the light, after all. Still, she hated to admit he was right.

Y/n stepped over the broken glass and spilled drink, making her way past the buck and back toward the stage, light box abandoned. The glow from the hellish sky would have to do in illuminating her way.

She stopped briefly beside Alastor, shoulder nearly brushing his. It was starting to feel like a test, no, a challenge, the way she'd stand so boldly close to him. But right now, her eyes were distant as she looked stubbornly into his, unfocused like her mind was all the way down in Sloth Ring. So he dismissed it this instance on the grounds of her intoxication.

“Well, smart-ass, you're shit out of luck. There's not going to be a performance here tonight.” Y/n wasn't entirely sure she really believed her own words as she left the wings. “Not in the way you want it, anyway," she settled for.

Her feet stopped her at center stage and she faced the audience, taking in the ratty seats. She didn't have to try too hard to imagine them as they were years ago, plush and full of demons ready for a show. She felt a tickle in her throat: her voice twitching with the suppressed urge to sing.

“Ohh,” Alastor trilled, having turned to follow her. “We've a diva in our midst, do we now? Is the state of the theatre not to your liking?”

Y/n hummed. So, this is the act she'd be playing. If it was a diva he wanted, a diva he would get.

“No, actually, it's not,” she snapped as she spun on her heel. “The curtains are torn, and the stage floor is completely worn out- more so than I am after a day of work,” she critiqued. The doe looked up at the ceiling. “Probably because there's more exposed holes in the roof than in one of my pornos, and the acid rain over the years has eaten away at the varnish.” She scuffed the floor with her shoe, twisting the ball of her foot into the worn wood to test the resistance. “Don't even think I could do a decent pirouette on here without embarrassing myself.” Then she looked out into the audience for a second before pointing to the lights fixed to the ceiling. “And the lights! Don't get me fucking started on the lights,” she growled.

Alastor watched her theatrical tirade. He felt like an actor in the scene with her, standing on the stage opposite to her, working off each other's energy. It was a thrilling sensation.

Though nothing thrilled him as much as the thought of being her director. Her doing exactly as he says, executing his visions, making his art come to life...

How rare it was for him to come across a muse. Exceedingly so. Alastor hoped she didn't disappoint him.

“Who knew the Morningstar Princess had such ungrateful residents?”

It was a joke, meant to tease the woman for her clearly obvious act. But her face fell and she went silent as the words hung in air between them. Suddenly she wasn't acting, and her posture shifted tensely.

The buck rolled his eyes. This was a part of their little dance he was growing less and less fond of; her ever shifting sensitivity. His favorite game of cat and mouse and he suddenly seems bored of it when playing with her. One minute she's joking along with him, the next she's shut up tight like a clam.

Alastor would crack her eventually.

The Radio Demon took a step, and then another. With every slow, suave footfall in the doe's direction, a stage light turned on, one by one in a row until the entirety of the stage was brightly illuminated. He was standing a mere foot away from her now, and she turned her chin up at him, glaring in the suddenly blinding lights.

One of her hands came up to shield her face and Alastor caught sight of that delicate shine on her skin again. It shimmered down the blade of her hand, over her wrist bone, and up her arm. Alastor followed it for as far as he could see it. She shifted and the shine disappeared under the light as something else was revealed.

A cut. On her upper arm, just above her elbow. It wasn't terribly long, but it looked deep and ragged around the edges. Crimson was weeping thickly from the gash and Alastor could smell the metallic tang from where he stood.

His brow quirked as he swallowed the saliva that pooled under his tongue.

“You're bleeding.”

The doe looked stunned for a moment. Then it was her turn to roll her eyes. She exhaled a short disbelieving puff of air, almost a laugh, as she shook her head incredulously. Another shift in attitude.

“What a joke. Peak comedy right there, ladies and gentleman.”

Hmm, sarcasm, the buck thought to himself. I suppose that's better than outright wariness.

Her scorn wasn't over though. And since she insisted on making a mockery of him, he insisted on having a taste of her; that taste he never got all those years ago.

“Just watch how I laugh. Ha, ha- ow!” Y/n flinched.

Alastor pulled away from her arm, finger tips coated in her sticky blood. She glared harshly at him for a split second just before she registered him raising his hand to his mouth.

His lips closed happily around his finger.

“NO-” She jumped to stop him, but he beat her to it.

Tangy and bitter, the coppery flavor coated his tongue. He swallowed thickly, and so did she, their reasoning vastly different.

“What did you just do?” Her voice was nothing if not panicked, her glare replaced with wide, clear eyes- clearer than they had been just moments before. They flicked between his fingers, his lips, and back to his own red ones before her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she breathed.

“I enjoy a meal with my entertainment, dearie. Don't you?” He said it so nonchalantly, Y/n almost agreed with him.

“Oh, no no-no-no no.” She grabbed his wrist -hand still held up to his face for another tasting- and pulled, yanked it away from his lips.

Alastor tensed, her cold fingers foreign on his warm skin. He almost pried himself away, then pried her in half, simply for touching him. The only reason he didn't, or so he told himself, was because it got him one step closer to her magic. With her hand wrapped around his wrist, he could feel her power as it coated her skin, light and soft. It didn't penetrate, just swirled against their flesh like early morning mist on the bayou, and the buck thought it felt similar to walking through springtime fog.

Y/n brushed at his fingers, wiping away what little blood was left on them.

“What did you do?”

“No need to worry, dearie. It was only a taste. I would have taken more if I really wanted to, so consider yourself safe,” His eyes narrowed, conveying something akin to playfulness. “For now.”

“What-?” She looked him up and down quickly, cautiously. “You're a-”

“A cannibal? Well, yes of course.”

Y/n released his wrist. “This isn't good.” She took a sobering step back. “This is not good.”

“It wasn't terrible, actually.” Alastor said matter-a-factly, mindlessly taunting the doe as she looked around, frantically trying to figure out what to do next. “I've had worse tasting snacks than you.”

She snapped to face him. “Don't you fucking dare call me that.” Her eyes were frenzied, bright and blazing with defensiveness.

Alastor held her glare, steadily and boldly. “There it is.” Intrigue colored his voice as his grin widened. “There's that fire I remember you having.”

Y/n seethed for a minute, absolutely livid with the demon in front of her. But he smacked his lips, tongue darting out to clean away any remaining blood and the doe quickly had to prioritize damage control over emotional crash out. She heaved a laboured breath and shook her head disapprovingly.

“I hope you like tea.”

“I prefer coffee.”

“...Let me make you some tea.”

~_~_~_~_~

Charlie had mentioned the kitchens before, once the princess realized her guests were still out getting intoxicated after they'd left the building.

“There are no drugs allowed in the Hotel, you know that. And I won't encourage bad choices. But I understand you're adults and you will make your own decisions. So I ask that you at least take care of yourselves when you do. There's water in the kitchens, and snacks in the pantry downstairs for when you're hungover.”

Aside from the commissary kitchen on the first floor -which served the dining hall-, the hotel had a handful of kitchenettes and smaller cooking spaces scattered about.

On the seventh floor of the hotel was a smaller home kitchen, meant for personal use. A standard stove top, fridge, and sink. There was a stand mixer on the countertop. It was surrounded by measuring cups and bowls, looking as if the recipe had been abandoned halfway through.

A table lined the opposite wall. It was big enough for three chairs, one on each side of the table. Though, one of them was a high chair, shaped like a rubber duck. It was pulled out from the table and still had a bowl on the tray. A child's meal, interrupted.

On the fridge there were magnets, dozens of them from all around the Seven Rings, and even a couple from Earth. They held up photos of the Morningstars. Family trips, events, holidays. Memories upon memories of Hells rulers living their most domestic life.

Y/n hadn't realized this was their family kitchen. The couple of times she'd wandered through here for water, she had left the lights off and moved in the dark. And now, with the warm glow of the overhead light, she could see how lived-in the space was, and how everything looked as though it had been abandoned mid activity.

Alastor trailed behind her, silent for a change. He had gone quiet on their walk up to the kitchen. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes surveyed the room, sweeping over every little detail left untouched. When he lingered in the middle of the room, Y/n pulled out a chair, brushed the dust off the cushion, and gingerly offered him the seat.

He took it with a nod.

“So, if you don't mind me asking,” Y/n began as she rinsed a pot and put water on to boil. “Why cannibalism?” It came out more skeptical than she'd meant.

She had a general distrust of cannibals, it's true. Long ago, in her first couple years of being in Hell, she was targeted as a meal one day when she foolishly wandered the streets of Cannibal Town alone. It was purely her fault, she came to tell herself. Distracted by her own thoughts, if she had only paid more attention to her surroundings it might have been avoided. Y/n hoped Alastor didn't read too far into her wariness when it came to that particular population.

“What do you mean?” The Overlord asked.

“What made you…” Y/n’s ears flicked back, unsure how to put it lightly. “Want to eat people?”

The doe searched through the cabinets, looking for where the royal family might store their tea. She found a tin box with dark loose leaves of some kind. FireWort, read the plain front label. It didn't tell her much about the product aside from that. But the back label had instructions detailing how to steep the leaves. Another look in the cabinet and bingo- a mesh strainer and an assortment of mugs sat farther back on the shelf. She grabbed the tool and the most neutral looking cup, set it on the counter beside the now simmering water, then turned to the Overlord talking behind her.

“Well, I wasn't always like this,” Alastor leaned back, crossing his legs while considering her question. “When I'd heard stories of cannibalism before, I had always thought it was an issue of control. That those people simply lacked self restraint,” he hummed almost humorously. “But when I got to Hell, and took a look around at the rapist and the racists and found myself, an equal-opportunity murderer, among them. Well, I had a bit of an epiphany then.”

“And what was that?”

“It wasn't about lack of control. It's the opposite in fact. It's about freedom; doing what you want, inflicting your will over others, just because you can.”

Silence lingered between them as Y/n contemplated that perspective. Finally, she leaned back against the counter with crossed arms. “That's not freedom,” she scoffed bitterly. “That's power.”

He pointed at her enthusiastically. “Freedom to exercise power, yes exactly. So, you understand.”

“No,” Y/n couldn't help but shake her head as she turned back around with a frown. “No, I really don't think I do.”

Water splashed over the side of the mug as she poured it onto the strainer, the water bleeding orange a few seconds later. She scooped up the mug carefully and walked it toward The Radio Demon.

“So, 'freedom’ is why you cannibalize others,” she summed up simply.

Alastor accepted the mug with an unimpressed quirk of his brow. He brought it up to smell its earthy, spicy aroma and held it under his nose for a moment while he spoke.

“That, and the taste of flesh in gumbo is really quite spectacular,” he finished with a sip, unaffected by the scalding temperature.

Again, he wasn't particularly impressed. But at least he hadn't spat it out in her face and verbally assaulted her for it. And she would certainly take his second trial sip as a win.

“I will take your word for it,” she conceded with a victorious smirk.

“Now,” Alastor sat the mug down on the table between them. “You didn't really drag me up to this dingy kitchen just for tea, did you dearie?”

Y/n maintained his eye contact, trying to tell if he felt anything yet. If he did, he wasn't showing it. He seemed rather composed overall, and she thought back to how long it seemed to take the Vees to show signs of being under the influence of her blood. Longer than the average demon, she recalls that much. She suspected it had to do with their overlord status. Possibly their magic fighting off hers? It was an interesting concept to think about. But one thing was certain, the toxicity of her blood would win out in the end. It always did.

“Y’know,” the doe shrugged. “Being high is always more fun with company.”

What Y/n didn't know was that a steady chill had been creeping up the bucks legs. He brushed it off when he first felt it walking into the kitchen, thinking it was a result of being so close to the king's quarters, anticipation of poking around and all. But the chill was unmistakable now and the conversation was becoming arduous. And he refused to show it.

His eyes looked her up and down. Then he leaned in with a small, surreptitious tilt of his head, committed to keeping up his facade. “Surprised to say, I don't entirely mind your company either.”

Y/n decided not to read too much into the comment. “Uh-huh.” She suspected he hadn't caught on yet. “Let's get through tonight and you tell me if that's still true in the morning.”

“Now aren't you ambitious,” Alastor laughed lazily, suddenly sounding a bit tired. “Trying to spend your whole evening…” His words slowed and faltered. “...with...me?…”

Something in his eyes changed. It looked as if a thought had struck him out of the blue. And all of a sudden, Y/n could see the cogs turning in his head. His eyes darted back and forth and for a split second, he gave the faintest impression of a frightened animal.

That scared look was gone the instant his eyes found hers again.

“I need coffee.” His voice came clipped and curt.

Alright, Y/n cautioned herself. Here we go…

“Maybe we should stick with tea,” she suggested. “It's probably best you just sleep it off, y'know?”

The Radio Demon left no room for disagreement.

“Coffee. Now.”

The doe jumped to her feet, her ears pressed back cautiously. “O-okay, yeah.” She made for the cabinets. “Let me see what I can find…”

Looking at the cup, Alastor entertained the possibility that maybe she had poisoned it, or drugged it with something. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe per orders of her boss. But Alastor had no direct quarrels with Valentino. It was Vox and his lackeys he really had to be concerned about. So what motivation would this obviously inferior demon have to make such a move on him.

Alastor pushed the drink away from him with a scowl.

He could feel it bubbling in his stomach and beneath his skin. His natural ear movements got harder and harder to restrain. They wanted to flick and twitch with each new vibration that thrummed through his chest, up his neck and out the tip of his antlers. He could feel his smile getting tense, strained against his cheeks. And worst of all? His tail. The base of his spine quivered, and the dreaded appendage damn near fluttered under his suit coat.

Y/n heard the scrape of his chair on the floor, but barely had a chance to move before she was forced to turn by his hand wrapped tightly around her neck.

Her yelp was smothered in her throat.

“You have five seconds to explain what you did to me, before I gut you nose to naval.”

He held firm, both in his hand and in his eye contact, not removing either until Y/n managed to tremble out a nod. And when she did, his hand slid from her neck to the back of her head where he grabbed hold of a fistful of her hair. To assert his authority, of course, and to keep her under his command. Though there was also something grounding about his hold on her. Not only did his legs feel unsteady beneath him, but his mind was foggy as well. Yet with his hand in her hair, he felt tethered, like a moored ship.

She swallowed thickly before speaking. “You did it to yourself.”

Alastor growled as he yanked back on her hair, just enough to brandish the delicate flesh of her neck to him.

“It's true!” Y/n flinched. “You should be careful whose blood you ingest…never know who might be tainted nowadays.”

“Tainted? With what?”

“I don't-” He bared his teeth as he pulled her in. “Some kind of toxin!” Y/n blurted quickly. “Valentino’s doctors say it has to do with the proteins in my blood or something- I don't remember! But, it won't kill you… you'll just be high as a kite for a few hours.”

Alastor could feel his lungs.

With every breath he took, it was as if they rattled in his chest, and he wanted to reach inside himself and pluck them out. He focused instead on Y/n’s heart beat. His frenzied eyes raked over her pulse point, just under her jaw. It fluttered there, keeping a steady rhythm, no faster than his own. He contemplated raising his clawed finger to her flesh and slicing. Thought the sight -and taste- of blood pouring from a wound might calm his increasingly troubled mind, and it probably would have. But he refrained, telling himself that it's best not to make a mess of the Princess Morningstar's kitchen… or guests, for that matter. He didn't want to end up on her bad side so soon…

And while that was all true, he also took in the information he was just given by the doe and decided he didn't want to be any higher than he already was. Although, he was quickly gathering that he might not have a say in that.

Alastor's vision blurred. And his head suddenly felt heavy, like a ten ton weight replaced his foggy brain. He blinked away the dizziness with a shake. But when he raised his gaze to interrogate Y/n further, his vision spiraled with color, and his words fell flat on his tongue.

Purple, pinks, blues, reds. A myriad of shapes and colors overlaid his sight and took his breath away.

His grip in her hair faltered.

The Overlord was buzzing -physically vibrating- as he tipped forward towards the doe. In a futile attempt to steady himself, he reached for the countertop ledge. Though he came up short and was surprised to find the hip of the demon in front of him instead. It wasn't ideal, and he just about tore himself away from her the instant he realized. Only, she didn't falter at his touch.

No, she straightened before him, and pushed back against his shoulders until he himself stood straight again. It was dizzying, and he instinctually contemplated snapping her wrists off and shoving them down her throat at the sensation of someone touching him.

But she helped him find his footing again.

So he begrudgingly let the hands be. Both hers on his shoulders and his own on her hip and in her hair.

Y/n had seen this all before. The slurred speech, the dazed look, the debilitating vertigo. A pattern she noticed among first time users -herself included. Even Valentino's first time had him teetering over her.

Just after discovering her special little secret, Valentino had left her bloodied and bruised in that dingy film studio, angry she had kept such valuable information from him. That very first day her boss got high off her blood was not one Y/n remembers fondly. But it's true, even the Overlord of sex and drugs struggled to stand upright and string together sentences after his first taste.

Her hands, still on Alastor's shoulders, slid to his chest to take his lapel.

“Okay.” She gave his coat a sharp tug to bring his attention to her. “I know it's a lot,” she cooed, mustering patience she didn't realize she had. His head lolled upright, slow and lazy as his eyes blinked open, unfocused but trying oh-so hard. “Let's just find you your room and get you comfortable, yeah?”

Y/n watched his face, making sure he heard her. His brows scrunched together for a moment and, coupled with his tense grin, it looked like a pained grimace crossed his face. But he nodded through it. And if that wasn't signal enough, The Radio Demon's ears flicked harshly against his antlers.

Y/n sighed quietly in relief.

She turned them around and began guiding him toward the hall, tea and coffee forgotten. Alastor's feet dragged while Y/n got them to the doorway, flipping the lights off as she crossed the threshold.

The buck stopped dead in his tracks behind her.

Alastor really, really, wanted to eviscerate the woman holding his hand right now. She'd made him endure her attitude, her touch, and whatever the hell this intoxication was. Now she intends to parade him through the hotel like some show horse. He refused to allow that.

Y/n spun to face him -to reassure him- and was cut short when shadows suddenly grew around her. The dim hallway light that she intended to use as a guide back to the main residential floor, as well as the dark kitchen they had just come from, all faded instantaneously and the only thing she could see was a teetering Alastor in front of her.

Now her world spun. It felt like she was tumbling and falling through the air and she lurched to find the floor beneath her. Just before her knees gave out, the world rematerialized around her.

The hallway was longer and brighter, and much more familiar than the one she had just been in. She and Alastor were still straddling another door frame, this time with a door. It opened up into a pitch black room.

The darkness shrouded Alastor like a thick blanket. It hugged his shoulders, waist, hips, and swallowed him slowly until his glowing eyes were the only thing she could really see anymore. His eyes- and something else that glowed yellow-green, flickering lazily in the near distance behind him.

“Shadow travel. Cool.” She squinted to get a better look over his shoulder. “Look, maybe don't do that again until you're sober, okay. I don't doubt your abilities. I just-” The door slammed sharply in her face. Y/n blinked through the annoyance of being denied- and ignored. “I just don't trust mine.”

The doe stood outside the closed door for a moment and thought maybe she should stick around. To make sure he would be alright. To be sure everyone else wasn't in imminent danger. Though mostly, she was just curious to see more of the incapacitated Radio Overlord. His ear flicks from moments before were as equally endearing as they were concerning. And it was always quite the sight, seeing such powerful beings so vulnerable.

She quickly decided it wasn't worth loitering around in the open hallway for. Besides, there were only a few short hours left before she had to leave for work, and the adrenaline of the past couple minutes was wearing off. She was absolutely beat.

Y/n backed away from the door with a sigh, ready to make her way down the hallway towards her own room, when a shadow darted hurriedly across her path. Ears similar to hers, but parted by a pair of antlers. This shadow wasn't hers.

She froze, watched and waited. It only grinned at her.

Y/n blinked back.

“I'm going to sleep. I suggest you try and do the same.”

With an apologetic smile, the doe turned and finally made her way down the hallway, the grinning shadow looming close behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- idk what it is but i LOVE writing my faves getting fUCKED up. anywhoooo, i wanna be so completely honest, these next few chapters are probably gonna take longer to write cause its going to be a lot of figuring out how/where my story's plotline lines up with the HH one. that being said, im SO FUCKING EXCITED for how this story is going to play out cause i got so many ideas, im just figuring out how to properly set us up for it all :D

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