#mr 666 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaylopolis · 6 months ago

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Six

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, VOX IS BACK BABY!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Six - A Stroll

Content Warning: Obsession, Choking, Graphic Sexual Scenes Involving Violence, Self Harm, Minors DNI!

Vox poured a cup of coffee into his “Fuck Alastor” mug and whistled as he exited the penthouse suite, heading for his office.

“What has him in such a cheery mood this mornin’, hmm?” Val asks from his spot on the couch, flipping through various channels on the television. The moth demon sipped from his own “Pimpin’ Not Simpin” mug.

Velvette sat on the edge of the countertop, a new phone in hand, tapping away. “Something about his mysterious Alley Girl. How the Hell should I know?”

“The bitch staying with Alastor?” Valentino adjusted his rose glasses.

“Yup.”

Val took another sip of his mug, before finally flipping to 666 News. “I can’t even get that lanky prick to return my calls, and Mr. Flat Screen thinks he can romance one of Charlie’s Redeemers without pissing off the Smiling Freak?”

Velvette finally puts the phone away. Grabbing her own coffee cup, she jumps over the back of the couch to join Valentino in watching the morning broadcast. “At least he’s movin’ on.” She shrugs. “If I have to hear him bitch one more time about Al…”

The television chimed, interrupting their conversation and announcing the start of a special broadcast. “Travis Miku, a former employee of V Tower Productions, was found burnt to a crisp this morning just outside the Entertainment District…”

Val spit his coffee across the room. “What!?”

____________________________________________

“Okay, Scales,” you laugh, pouring the coconut milk into the cup.

“Ay’, nicknames are my thang, Hair clip!” Angel scolded from his seat at the table.

“What do you think of this?” You spun, sending the cappuccino flying down the table. It sailed with such force that it flew right past the snake demon and crashed onto the tile floor next to a pair of black and red dress shoes. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the run of static down your spine.

Fuck.

“My, it seems I have stumbled across the old rough and tumble this morning,” the demon’s radio clicks onto a smooth jazz before he slips into his apron and starts the stove. He’s in a good mood.

You’re frozen in place for a moment, very aware of the Radio Demon standing right next to you and the mere inches the coffee cup had to spare before acosting him. The room has gone silent, nervously awaiting the Radio Demon and his temper. Yet, it doesn’t come.

Your eyes flit down to his red and black shoes - not a speck on them - you wouldn’t - couldn’t - make eye contact with the demon. Especially after last night. Your cheeks heat with the memory of his lips on yours.

Fucking Hell. You’ve never experienced this before. You’ve never wanted to do… sexual things. It wasn’t in your nature. Dad raised you on the belief that anything before marriage was a sin and so you spent the majority of your life believing the same thing. When you finally were free of him you found that you just didn’t have any interest. Not in men or women. It just wasn’t something you thought of.

Your closest friend tried to talk you into it, she was as promiscuous as they get - she’d rival even Adam’s body count - but you just didn’t really want to. She’d go off and sleep with whatever had two legs, while you’d prefer a good book and a glass of wine in your bed.

Now? Your thoughts and feelings towards those things were getting… confusing. Alastor was making those things confusing and you really hated to admit that.

White-knuckled, the demon whipped a few eggs - clearly holding back his agitation from your almost attack. You wondered what it would take to break his smile, get him to try and frown for once. You wondered what you would have to do to wipe that smirk off his face…

Oh, and part of you would love to try but another part knows you needed to get on his good side.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you grab a towel to…

“Oh, no, allow me, darling,” he snaps his finger and the pile of destroyed ceramic disappears.

You swallow, “Thank you.” Turning back to the machine, you begin a new cup for Pentious and a hot cup of chai coffee for Alastor, listening awkwardly to the demon humming beside you.

“So…” Husk starts. “Heard you were heading to Mimzy’s today.”

“I am,” you and the Radio Demon respond at the same time. His radio skips a beat, the jazz song turning to static as he meets your eye - God, that was starting to get annoying. His left eye twitches ever so slightly betraying his mask of a smile.

You side eye the barkeep over your shoulder. You knew what he was doing. He was tasked to watch after you, which meant reporting your movements, especially when it involved the Overlord’s acquaintances - not cool Husk, not cool.

“And what business would you have with ~my~ darling Mimzy?” Alastor’s radio clicked back to a smooth jazz. Did he play anything else?

My Mimzy? MY?

“Just picking up a few things,” you turn back to the coffee, doing your best to concentrate on your coconut creation and the chai brewing next to it.

“Seems we will be running in the same circles today then, Ms. Thestral,” his voice purrs.

“Seems we will,” you wipe the rim of the cup before turning to the table, mugs in hand. You kept your eyes down, not wanting to catch Alastor’s gaze.

Perhaps if you coordinated, you could find a time to get to the club when Alastor wouldn’t be there…

“Care to join me?” The demon purred.

Your heart sank through your stomach and onto the floor. You practically dropped the mugs in your hand before setting them gently on the table. Finally, your eyes caught his.

He looked rather domestic like this - frilly pink apron, spatula in hand. If no one knew who you were they’d think you a couple, getting ready for a quiet breakfast at home. Good thing your audience knew better. You were more likely to kill each other than anything else. And, underneath all of that, the demon looked utterly exhausted…

You shoot him your prettiest, most sincere smile, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. “I would be delighted,” you answer through gritted teeth.

“Delightful,” the demon beams at you, his irises lighting up like crimson crystals.

Angel leans over to whisper to Husk, “What is happening?”

“Breakfast!” Alastor abruptly drops the pan, making the entire room jump. “Enjoy.”

The three blink before digging in, doing their best to ignore whatever pissing contest you and Alastor had found yourselves in - except for Angel. The Porn Star loved drama.

The Radio Demon leans in, his gaze boring into you. You feel something tickle the peripherpy of your power. It wasn’t his shadow and it wasn’t him probing your power. It felt like his radio static had brushed up against your fire, like a caresse across your skin. It was eerily similar to the feeling you got when you and he made the deal atop the radio tower.

Could he feel that too?

Your cheeks heated as he came closer, his gaze suddenly changed. From a look of pure anger to something else… “You’re not afraid of me.”

The statement sent a shiver down your spine.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned in closer, pushing all thoughts of his lips from your mind, of his hands on your throat, of his thigh between your legs, his chest flush with yours… “Seems Charlie left that part out of the tour.” You smirked, your red lipstick contrasting against your white teeth. You wished you had more prominent canines for a situation such as this.

God, why did Alastor make you feel so… so… angry!? That was the only way to describe what was happening. He made you angry.

He laughed, a deep rumble from his chest, not the fake showman’s laugh you normally heard from him. His face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen before from the Overlord. Then he fell silent, uncharacteristically so. His eyes dipped down. Not to your neck. No, his gaze didn’t drop low enough.

Was he… What is he… Your face grew warm as a blush crept up from your collarbones.

He was staring at your lips.

“Um, excussssse me?” Sir Pentious’ question broke the tension, bringing you both back to the room.

You cleared your throat, finding your seat at the table.

Ignoring the looks Angel Dust was shooting you from across the room, you pushed the cappuccino to the snake.

“...I don’t eat eggssss.” The serpent smiled. “May I have pancakesss?” He beamed.

Alastor’s smile strained. “Of course, my slippery friend.”

You were in no place to point out that pancakes still had eggs in them.

“...With chocolate chipsss?” He blinked, his eyes growing big.

The Radio Demon snapped the spatula in half in his hand. “Right away.”

You resisted the urge to laugh, finding your own mug of hot coffee. The static returned to the room, switching angrily between stations before returning to a smooth jazz.

“Morning!” Charlie yawned. She had a small bouquet of blue flowers in her hand. “Thestral these came for you.” She placed the bouquet down in front of you before finding her seat.

There’s a card.

Your blood runs cold.

Holy fucking shit.

“Who they from?” Angel asks.

You crumble the note in your hand. “Nobody important,” you quickly lie.

Fucking blue Forget-Me-Knots. How fucking hilarious of him. How in the Hell did he find you and know who you are!? You’d burn these to a crisp if you didn’t have so many eyes on you.

You went over to the garbage and aggressively tossed the flowers in, irritation prickling the back of your neck. Before you had a chance to register what was happening, Angel slipped his fingers in yours, and pulled the crumbled note from your grasp. You lunged for the paper, but one of his hands pushed down on your head, placing you thoroughly out of range of his many appendages.

The spider demon’s mouth dropped. “Vox!?”

Shit.

The room went silent.

Vaggie grabbed the paper from Angel and read it herself. “Why is an Overlord sending you flowers?”

Ah, how to explain…

“I…” You pinched the bridge of your nose between forefinger and thumb. “I fixed his bowtie…” You grumbled.

“You fixed his bowtie?” Angel repeated, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Why were you anywhere near him?” Vaggie was in your face now, challenging you from her even shorter stature.

“He ran into me, quite literally, on my way to the club, after Rosie’s,” your eye’s flit to Alastor, but he was nonchalantly perched behind black and white text, sipping the coffee you had made him. Was he ignoring this conversation or just not interested? “His bowtie was tangled, so I fixed it for him, but he had no idea who I was. I didn’t even give him my name! I have no idea how he found me or why he’d even send me flowers…” You slammed the lid of the garbage can shut.

“Wait, you went to Rosie’s!?” Vaggie challenged.

“She’s my tailor…” You were now thoroughly irritated. “That doesn’t matter!” You fell into your seat with a thud, arms crossed in front of you, you slumped onto the table. A wave of coolness puddled beneath your ankles as you sat - Alastor’s shadow you assume.

“You had a meet-cute with Vox?” Angel was still stuck on that part.

Alastor flipped the page of his newspaper rather aggressively, his shadow twirling around and around your feet. He wasn’t Vox’s biggest fan, so you’re sure the entirety of the Hotel crew obsessing over your interaction with him wasn’t sitting well with the Overlord.

You shot the spider demon a confused, yet exasperated look. Vaggie and Charlie shared a look of concern. Husk poured more alcohol into his orange juice.

“Why the fuck, do you hang around so many Overlords…” Vaggie started but, Charlie interrupted her.

“What Vaggie means to say is, we’re worried about you,” Her voice was sweet as she came to sit next to you, crouched so she could catch your eyeline.

“Was it hot?” Angel wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Was there tension of the… sexual nature?” He beamed. Your face turned scarlet.

“Angel, I don’t…” You start but are interrupted.

SNAP!

The Radio Demon’s newspaper disappeared as did his music. Summoning his microphone, he stormed from the kitchen, leaving the rest of you in a wave of silence. His shadow followed, almost as if it was pulled away rather aggressively.

“What was all that about?” Vaggie snapped.

“He looked kind of mad, maybe I should go check on him?” Charlie started to stand but Vaggie pushed her back down.

“Uh, no! No way! You are not going after an Overlord with an anger issue.”

You sighed into your arms. This day was starting off great…

Charlie’s eyes shot to Husk. Pouting her lip, she silently begged the barkeep.

“Ugh!” Rising to his feet, he chugged the rest of his drink. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He disappeared through the flapping kitchen door.

“Not to change the subject, but has anyone seen Nifty?” Angel asked.

“Not since last night. I swear if she’s stuck in the ventilation shafts again…” Vaggie swore under her breath in Spanish.

“Maybe we should go look for her?” Charlie ran her hands through her hair, still watching the kitchen door swing on its hinges.

“Good idea, let’s split up into teams. I call Thestral!” Angel practically dragged you to your feet. Pushing you out the door, he called back, “Hair clip and I will check this floor!”

“This conversation isn’t over!” Vaggie called out after you.

Next thing you know you were following him down the hallway, coffee-less and grumpy. You weren’t yourself before that first cup of joe and the Hotel Natives had not yet learned what happens when you don’t get it. Plus, the whole Vox situation was just tipping you over the edge.

Static found your spine as you walked - Alastor. His shadow was following you.

Angel made a great deal of effort to check every nook and cranny as you walked, but your eyes were on him. “Thank you for rescuing me,” You stop walking, irritation prickling your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shadow of the table twitch ever so slightly.

He takes a glance down both hallways, ensuring you were alone. “You know what just happened don’t ya’?”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“Flirting with the Radio Demon like that and then throwing Vox in his face. Are you nuts?” He grabbed at his hair.

“What!?” You barked, your jaw practically on the floor.

“I saw the way the two of yous… Owe! Owe! Owe! How are you this strong!?” You dragged Angel by his ear to the foyer and out the front doors. Husk was at the bar, shooting you weird looks, but eventually he shrugged it off and went back to cleaning up broken glass.

You didn’t stop until you were standing in the middle of the cobblestone road, in broad daylight, with the closest puddle of shadows at least thirty feet away. Alastor’s shadow could still reach you if it wanted to, but it didn’t know that you knew it was following you - so, it would have to stay hidden. It was now, thankfully, out of earshot.

“What the fuck was that for?” Angel rubbed his ear as you released him.

“Let’s get this straight. I was not ~flirting~ with the Radio Demon. I hate him. What you saw was me not backing down to his intimidation. I refuse to cower before someone who thinks they have some sort of power over me.” You gritted through your teeth. “Also, I did not ask for attention from Vox. I did not ask for flowers. I didn’t want it brought up but you had to go and snoop into my business!”

Angel blinks at you, before something clicks in his mind. “Oooh, I get it now! You wanna hate fuck him.” Angel beamed at you.

Goddammit. You’d rip his head off right here if you didn’t like him so much.

“Look, if Smiles is what does it for ya…”

“Angel,” you bite, but he continues over you.

“…then I’m not one to judge, but you should know one thing. Never, in the history of Hell, has the guy been seen with anyone.”

“Wha… What!?” Your face was turning red, not out of embarrassment but anger. How could Angel think that this was what you wanted to hear right now!?

“Yup, better believe it. Overheard Valentino and Vox talking about it. Apparently the guy’s a total loner. I’m not saying he’s a virgin but there’s a possibility.”

You could feel the heat bubbling beneath your skin, threatening to break through.

“Although come to think of it, Vox talks about Alastor’s sex life quite a bit. Wonder what…”

“Angel Dust,” you snap. “I don’t care about Alastor’s sex life.” You were seconds away from ripping the hair out of your head - reminding yourself that this was Angel, you did your best to contain yourself.

“Oh, well you should.” He crosses his arms, a smirk across his face.

Pinching the bridge of your nose between forefinger and thumb, you do your best to take a breath. “Why would I care about who Alastor has or has not slept with?”

“Because he’s heading this way,” the spider demon points over his shoulder. You spin, blush creeping into your skin, turning the pink to a bright red. You pray he hadn’t heard you talking just now.

The demon slips through the front door, his cane clacking against the ground as he descends upon you. You're helpless, your mind blank as he comes to stand just feet from where you and Angel had been hiding from his shadow.

You were so irritated with Angel and focused on Alastor’s shadow you had missed the static creeping down your spine alerting you to his impending presence.

“Hello, darling, you wouldn’t be leaving without me, would you?” The demon’s smile gives nothing away - if he heard you, he made no show of it.

“Oh, no. She’s all yours, Smiles.” Angel practically shoves you forward. “You, me, bar, later!” He demands as he heads for the safety of the Hotel. Behind Alastor’s back, Angel sends you a quick wink before disappearing inside.

You had grown quite attached to Angel Dust in the short time you’ve been here. So much so that his innocent flirting and quick sex quips brought a smile to your face. And because of that - the muscle twitching in your jaw - you still couldn’t find the room to hate him. Angel Dust was pure - despite his choice of profession - and you found yourself again wondering how Valentino could lay his hands upon such a wonderful person. Even if he can be a twat sometimes.

“Actually, we were looking for Nifty,” you crossed your arms, willing your heart to stop pounding. He could probably hear it from where he stood.

“Ah, it’s a good thing our effeminate friend headed back inside then. The Little Angel has found herself wedged within an air shaft on the ceiling of the library.” He saddles up next to you, your head coming to the height of his chest, before holding his elbow out to you. “Shall we?”

You thought the Radio Demon didn’t like to be touched?

Begrudgingly, you loop your arm in his, your fingers coming to rest atop his jacketed forearm - did he ever wear anything else? - doing your best to ignore the fact that you were touching him. He was warm - not something you expected from him. His shadows always felt so cold when they wrapped around you, you had assumed he would be much the same - cold and dead.

You took a sniff to try and grasp his emotions, to see if he smelled of deceit and indeed had overheard your conversation, but instead of the lemony tartness of the emotion, he smelled of musk, of the deep woods after a rainstorm. It was… unexpected… Especially considering you hadn’t been able to scent anything off of him before this.

And his attitude? He stormed out of the kitchen not twenty minutes ago and now he appears here, his smile seemingly normal, not an ounce of stress in his eyebrows. You wondered what happened to change his mood so quickly?

You did your best to keep your eyes on the path ahead as you walked. “You don’t seem so concerned for someone in your… services?”

He laughed, “Oh, darling, I see you did some homework. Yes, Nifty is a soul I own, and yes she does find herself in a bind quite often.” He helped you down the curb and into the street as you crossed. Despite the smiles on your face, the tension between the two of you was so palpable you could cut it with a knife. “But the difference is, that I trust them to take care of her.”

You scoff, sidestepping a dead rat. “If not I guess you have Husk to tattletale later.”

Out of the corner of your eye, something in the demon’s demeanor turns dark. “You would be surprised how difficult that barcat can be…”

You wonder what happened after Alastor and Husk left the room. There was no shouting or arguing but apparently some broken glass? Perhaps it was Alastor’s anger towards the barkeep. Perhaps it was his irritation with Vox. Whatever it may have been, he appears unphased now. That or he’s really good at putting on a show.

You pass the Entertainment District, V Tower looming overhead. Alastor stiffened slightly, his other hand coming to rest on your arm against his.

Yeah, definitely a Vox issue.

Your heart skips a beat as his gloved fingers settle atop yours and you resist the urge to pull away.

His fingers on yours…

Your face heated.

Shit, think of something else.

You fixate on V Tower. God, the past few nights spent perched on rooftops and just listening and watching Vox and his little gang bitch about absolutely nothing were really starting to get to you.

But last night you had slept. Which doesn’t sound like a lot but you haven’t truly had a decent night’s rest since coming to the Hotel. Now, with Alastor’s radio, you could finally catch a few Zs - despite the dream. You were ignoring that it even happened - as best you could.

At first the music was used to drown out the screams of the Sinners those first few days in Hell, then it became something you needed. It made you feel weak to rely on something so trivial, but, hey, this was Hell - suffering on some level had to be involved.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, looking down at your feet. “For the radio.”

Alastor’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, his fingers twitching on your arm. “Of course, my dear. Whatever I can do to help.” He didn’t sound as cheerful as his words. His mind fixated on the media demon’s tower looming over you.

Might as well address it directly. You didn’t work well with… complicated emotions, but anger? Fuck. Anger was your best friend.

“Vox has been quiet lately.” You prod. “Ever wonder why he hasn’t flat out tried to take you down?” Heaven’s Clocktower came into view.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I suspect his systems are still reloading,” he answers coolly.

“Hmm,” you ponder. “For a seemingly all powerful Overlord, the man has one major weakness.”

“And what would that be, darling?” The edge of Cannibal Town was coming into view. You took a right - heading for the old section of the Entertainment District.

You ignored the butterflies in your belly, now kicked up in a flurry at his purr of “darling.”

You wonder if Alastor is technically not allowed in any part of the Entertainment District - seeing as how it is the Vees’ territory. But what did they care about an old jazz club tucked away in the far less frequented parts of Pentagram City?

“Unplug him,” you smiled at your own joke.

And, to your surprise, the Radio Demon tips his head back and laughs. Not his corny showman laugh, but a deep rumble that emanates from within his chest. You’re shocked for a moment, not sure of how to take his change in emotion, but then your quiet giggles join his.

At least Vox was something you both could agree on.

“...back to you Katie!” A crowd was gathering around a storefront, television screens turned on inside - granted they were older models, 1950s-esque, but 666 News worked on everything.

You hastily listened as you passed, Alastor having no desire to join a forming crowd - watching a television no less - to a breaking news podcast regarding another murder.

“Travis Miku, a former employee of V Tower Productions, was found burnt to a crisp this morning just outside the Entertainment District. His ashes have been returned to his wife…”

You chuckle.

It was his wife who gave you her soul for the hit. A minor deal, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was your power as Overlord.

“On a lighter note, if anyone has any information on how to contact the Shadow, you can call the studio tip hotline. Asking for a friend…”

The buzz of the picture box is drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the Vees’ territory. Cars honked as they drove by, people on cell phones, clubs playing music for patrons who had still been there from the night before.

“Oh, please do enlighten me as to what has peaked your fancy now?” Alastor’s question brought you from your thoughts.

“I find the growing desire to unmask the Shadow to be fruitless.”

The Overlord stiffened next to you. “How ever could you mean?”

“It’s simple. Unmask the mask and what do you get? Just another mask. No one in Hell goes by their true name and the ones who do are now dead twice over. It doesn’t matter who this Shadow is, they still remain a threat regardless of their identity. It would be like learning your name was actually Alex instead of Alastor. You’re still the Radio Demon - nothing has changed.”

“Spoken by someone who sounds like they have nothing to lose?” He raised an eyebrow.

You sigh, your heart knotting itself in your chest. “I don’t…”

Everyone you knew was topside - Heaven - and wherever the Hell your father was. No one left on Earth to care for you now. Not even friends… Even if anyone were to find out who you truly are, they’d have no leverage. Well, you did care for Rosie, but she could take care of herself.

Alastor didn’t ask further, content on finishing the walk in silence. His fingers wrapped around yours were warm and oddly comforting. Actually, silences were oddly comfortable with the Radio Demon - considering his radio never truly left you alone.

You walked the rest of the way in a background of music. The demon changed the channel every so often to find something that he liked - you questioned whether he was picking up actual radio waves or just cycling through his memory like a CD multidisc drive.

Did he know all these songs or were some of them new to him? Did he only listen to music of the twenties and thirties or had his tastes grown in time? You wondered what he would think of jazz now - it had changed so much in the last hundred years.

You were a block away from your destination when the curiosity got the better of you.

“The radio thing you do,” you began awkwardly, “is that something you can turn off completely or…?”

The demon thought for a moment before you heard what you believed to be the sound of a needle gently lifting off a record. No music. No static. Something weighed heavily in his eyebrows, making them crinkle ever so slightly. He didn’t look at you when he answered, “It is uncomfortable.”

And that’s all he said before his fingers found the front door of “Bob’s Barber.” Alastor held the door, motioning for you to go first. What a gentleman.

Bob’s Barber was a stereotypical barbershop, complete with leather chairs and red and white twirled poles. Inside was a shark demon, dressed in a white apron, sweeping the floor of hair.

“It looks like acid rain today,” the barber muttered.

“Yes, well, it’s a good thing I always carry an umbrella*,” you answered.

The barber stopped his sweeping to smile at you. “Since when do you take the front door, Loca?”

You pounded his fist with your own, “And who’s this?” His smile dropped when he turned to Alastor, standing at your side, hands placed gently on the top of his microphone.

“A friend.”

Not a friend.

“And since when do you have friends?” The barber was not backing down, smelling blood in the water. Smart guy.

“Didn’t say he was my friend, Luis,” you smiled.

The shark demon turned to you, his large hand - fin? - ruffling the hair atop your head. You hated when he did that, but also loved it.

“Alastor,” the Radio Demon held out his claws for a handshake, “perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

The shark demon looked from his hand to his face and back to his hand again. “No.” You didn’t hold back your laugh. “But if Loca says you’re cool, then go on ahead.” The barber leaned behind the front desk and cranked a lever. A panel in the mirrored wall popped open - oh, the fun of speakeasies.

You felt Luis’ eyes bore into Alastor as you made your way through the wall and down a set of stairs. You were suddenly very grateful for the overprotective shark demon who had become something of a friend over the years.

“Mimzy did always love her theatrics!” Alastor’s tone was light, but you could tell he was irritated by the bruise in his ego. Narcissist.

It was early, the club technically wouldn’t be open for hours. The lights were on revealing the slick wetness of a newly polished wood floor that gave way to red carpeting. The bar was at the very back of the establishment, wooden and antique with a backdrop of rows and rows of bootleg liquor - the original stuff. Seems nostalgia wasn’t lost on the old guard of Hell. Moonshine was still made from white sugar, the bottles were random containers of glass wrapped in handwritten labels.

Booths lined the back of the establishment, their red velvet cleaned weekly. Closer towards the stage were tables, white clothes covering their tops, complete with candle centerpieces. It was a truly classic Prohibition Era establishment. Complete with a grand piano at the middle of it all. How Mimzy still managed to pull all this off after a hundred years you didn’t know. Your job was to show up, learn the music, and play.

“Seven years and it hasn’t changed a bit!” Alastor twirled his cane, having come to rest at his back as he surveyed the establishment.

“Alastor!?” A small, rather portly woman popped out from behind the stage curtain.

The Radio Demon’s lips curled as the woman ran over. “By the way, darling,” he leans into you, his lips brushing the crest of your ear. In a low whisper, his voice deep and raspy, the demon spoke, “I’m not a virgin.”

HOLY SHIT. Before your brain has time to process his words, Mimzy runs over.

“Alastor! I thought I heard your voice!” Dressed like a pink flapper, complete with feather in hair, the club owner practically tramples Alastor as she brings him into a… hug? You try not to let your jaw hit the floor. “Sweetie, Doll-face, So good to see you! How've you been? Good? Good.” She turns to the barkeep. “Rex, bust out the good rye, we’re celebratin’!”

God, she was the sweetest, loudest person you had ever met.

“Mimzy, dear, so good to see you,” Alastor’s radio was back to his jovial tune. Mimzy led him to a booth, completely ignoring your presence.

As the demon was whisked away, you felt his shadow twirl about your ankles before joining your own.

Oh, no, no, no. He doesn’t just get to say something like that and walk away. You spin and kick at the shadow, but nothing comes of it - well, nothing you wanted to happen. Instead, you manage to pop a blister.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pulling off a heel. Red blood bubbled on the side of your foot.

Great. Just great. You were going to half to walk home, across Pentagram City, shoeless - again. Can’t fly home in daylight, too many eyes would be on you and you couldn’t risk anyone following you back to the Hotel. It would be too easy.

You limp a few steps to a table, but stop when Alastor’s shadow beats you to it. The thing grabs a napkin and brings it back to you. Hesitating, you turn to the booth where Mimzy and Alastor were now sitting, chatting away. The demon doesn’t even glance in your direction, completely entranced with whatever joke the two of them were laughing at.

The Radio Demon was a superb multitasker if he could tell jokes and watch you through his shadow at the same time. Or, was it not conscious control? Was it a mindless minion like his shadow imps that fixed the Hotel wall the first day you moved in? Or was his shadow a soul he owned, someone tricked into servitude for the rest of eternity?

“Thank you?” You accepted the token, using it to wipe up the blood from your foot. The shadow quickly zips away, melting into your own. You could still feel it’s presence, however, as you pulled off the other shoe to storm off into the back room.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Mimzy’s call stopped you in your tracks. “Yeah, I see ya’, come ova’ here!”

White knuckled, you rounded the corner to face the two of them, drinks being poured at their table - Alastor with his usual rye and Mimzy with some sort of gin and tonic.

“Don’t think ya’ can just sneak by me,” she chastises. “Ya’ skipped out on me last weekend. It ain’t gonna happen this week.”

Oh, the look on Alastor’s face right now. He was relishing your scolding. Asshole. Why was he even here anyway?

“Sheet music is on the piano. You’re fillin’ in for Roxie.”

“Two days!?” You protested. “You want a full headliner in two days!?”

“You gonna complain? That’s showbiz, kid!” She took a swig of her drink and hiccuped.

“Oh, go easy on the poor dear, Mimzy. She’s…” Alastor smiled, but you cut him off.

“I do not need your sympathy.” You stomped over to the black piano and swiped the music sheets atop it.

Mimzy looked between the two of you. “You let her talk to you like that?”

“He doesn’t let me do anything. I do whatever I want,” you answered for him and stormed out.

____________________________________________

“I’ll see you later, Luis,” you called to the shark demon as you stomped back onto the streets of the Entertainment District, very aware of the Radio Demon’s shadow following you.

No way in Hell were you going to practice with an audience - and in front of Alastor no less. Ugh! You’d take the music and practice back at the Hotel, hidden away in the old music room where no one would bother you.

Jesus, you needed a cup of tea or a yoga session or something! You were wound so tightly after last night and this morning that you were grinding your teeth as you walked. Maybe you should make a stop at Rosie’s on the way back, bounce a few ideas off of her, figure out what she thinks you should do to solve your Radio Demon problem. Maybe…

“Need a ride?”

Fuck. As if you needed another problem right now!

A black limo slowed its pace to match yours. The window rolled down to reveal Vox in a newly pressed suit, a sly grin on his face. How the fuck did he find you?

You rolled your eyes and kept limping walking, a familiar ache building in your feet. Angel had done a great job in patching your blisters, and these new shoes helped a ton, but you had still walked all the way across Pentagram City this morning - perhaps you bit off more than you could chew. Regardless, you were not getting in that limo.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Vox awkwardly chuckled. The media demon practically fell out the door onto the ground, landing on all fours. He brushed himself off and sped walked until he caught up with you. Falling in line, he grabbed both his lapels, sauntering next to you. Lesser demons noted the Overlord’s presence, and quickly parted for you to pass.

“None of your business,” you snapped through gritted teeth, speeding up.

“Mind if I join you?” He flashed you a grin.

“I do, actually.”

God, this guy can’t take a hint.

“Oh, well okay then…” Vox’s smile faltered, he turned his attention to the path ahead, but he didn’t leave. “I guess I‘ll just head home then… Which just so happens to be in the same direction…” He continued alongside you another block before you put the breaks on.

“Vox, what do you want from me!?” You snapped, your hands curling into fists, crushing the sheet music you walked all the way here to get.

Vox took a step back, hurt flashing across his screen before it was replaced by his neutral grin. “I just wanted to know if you got my flowers?”

You could feel the artery pulsing in your temple in agitation. You took a breath, stifling the flames itching beneath your skin. “Yes, I got your blue Forget-Me-Knots, very clever.”

“I’m glad you liked them,” he beamed, his confidence newly restored.

God, this guy was like a golden retriever.

“Is that all?” You ground your teeth.

“No, actually.” He pulled another flower from his jacket pocket, offering it to you. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight?” The media demon painted his best grin on his face, his eyebrow cocked in question. He looked smug, his aura wafting off scents of rosemary - the scent of pride. He thought oh-so highly of himself.

Your eyes flit between him and the blue flower, a dumb look on your face. You blinked a few times, “What?”

“He’s asking you out!” Some random dude screamed from the growing crowd.

Oh God, there were cameras. Demons were filming. This wasn’t good. The blood instantly drained from your face. “You’re… what?”

The demon cleared his throat, preparing a rehearsed speech. “You’re the first demon in a long time to not take one look at me and flee. To look at me and not immediately idolize me. To look at me and not want something from me. In fact, you wanted nothing to do with me.” The media demon grabs your hand, his thumb brushing over your palm. Small sparks of static electricity dance their way up your arm. It felt different from Alastor’s static, Vox’s was more metallic and surface level whereas Alastor’s melted into your bones.

You felt the Radio Demon’s shadow stir beneath your feet twirling about itself in agitation. Did the shadow know you could feel it? Did it know you could sense its agitation as easily as you could smell the emotions wafting off of others?

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, but I’m sure you already knew that.” He chuckles. “There’s just something about you… I don’t even know you and yet I do not feel worthy of you.” Another chuckle, then a pause, a hesitation. “I would be truly and deeply honored if you would join me for…”

SCREECH.

“Hello, old pal,” Alastor was suddenly behind you, his radio pure static defeaning your ears. You jumped a few steps back, putting as much room between you and Vox as you could muster. You clutched your hand to your chest protectively, Vox’s electricity diminishing with each second his skin wasn’t on yours.

The Radio Demon took a step in front of you, blocking your view of the media demon. He twirled his cane before slamming it against the stone pavement, green sparks flying from where it made contact. His shadow found its place beneath his feet once more.

A pair of eyes and a mouth appeared in the shadow, as if Alastor’s own smile and irises were blocking the darkness. It shot a look of pure hatred at the media demon, its ears curling as if horns, its mouth widening in a razor sharp grin. His shadow looked absolutely lethal, but Alastor looked as cool as a cucumber, as if he just so happened across two friends during one of his outings.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Vox spat, returning the flower to his lapel. The demon’s left eye patterned red and white in anger.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” the demon sang, cleaning his monocle as if Vox wasn’t worth giving his full attention to.

Why was he… Oh, wait a minute. Now you get it. Alastor and Vox were fighting over you, not the lover’s triangle kind of fight, but the “Vox has something I want” kind of fight. You were a toy and they were two toddlers throwing a tantrum about who got to play with you.

That’s why Alastor offered you his arm as you strode across town. That’s why he played the gentleman as you passed V Tower. That’s why he clung to you, his hands on your fingers, as you walked through the Entertainment District. You were a toy, an object for the two of them to stake a claim in owning.

You weren’t a valuable toy to either of them - you felt the need to point out - this fight was about power, not about you at all. Figures…

“This has nothing to do with you, you Old Timey Prick!” Vox’s screen began to glitch, his voice cutting in and out with his screen. “So fuck off!”

Alastor took his time fixing his monocle back into place before responding. “Hmm, yes. I do believe we have overstayed our welcome here in the Entertainment District, darling. Care for a lift home?” He eyes you from over his shoulder, his elbow out in anticipation.

Vox looked to you, his face visibly saddening. God, it was pathetic. “She’s coming with me. I have already offered her a ride!” Vox motioned to the limo.

Jesus boys, just whip them out and measure already.

“Thestral is a guest at ~my~ Hotel and as such she is ~my~ responsibility. What would our dear Princess Morningstar say if I let her prattle about with the likes of you?” The demon’s eyes narrowed at Vox, a green aura emanating from his form.

You know, part of you really wanted to see them duke it out right here, right now, so they could finally see who the real winner was between the two of them, but another part of you wanted this nightmare to end.

Something in your line of sight caught your eye and gave you an idea. Spinning, you snuck off, deciding upon Option C.

____________________________________________

“You did fucking what!?” Angel practically choked on his drink.

“I left them there,” you sipped your Cabernet, letting the tannins dance across your tongue. “Right in the middle of the Entertainment District.”

Angel was laughing so hard he had whiskey coming out of his nose, “I would have paid so much fucking money to see the looks on their faces!”

“And Vox just let you take his ride?” Husk raised an eyebrow, busying himself with the glasses behind the bar.

“The Computer Monitor was too busy short circuiting to do anything about it,” you shrugged. And you offered the driver a lot of money. A sum the shark couldn’t refuse.

“Damn, kid. You got some balls,” Husk shook his head. You know he didn’t approve of the stunt. All it did was increase the magnification on the microscope you had now found yourself under.

You spun the half empty glass across the countertop, “Hey, where is Alastor anyway?”

Husk shrugged, cleaning another glass, “Haven’t seen him since you two left this morning.”

Good. You needed an evening without the overbearing Overlord and his snooping shadow following your every move. Tonight, you could relax.

“So you gonna take Vox up on his offer?” Angel wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You stopped your twirling and shot Angel a dumb look.

“What?” He threw his hands up in defense. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. Especially…” He pulls up Vitter on his phone and showed the both of you the video which had now reached over a million views. “After a declaration such as this.”

You watched as Vox repeated his mantra and then the video and audio filled with static - Alastor’s doing you assumed - before it cut out completely. Nice trick. You were going to have to figure out how to do that yourself.

Vox’s words were nice, but coming from an Overlord they just sounded pathetic. Like one of your victims begging for their life before you burnt them to a crisp.

“I have absolutely no interest,” you turned your nose up.

“Because of Smiles or…?” Angel winked.

Your face turned red. “B.. Because of nothing!” You stuttered. “I have no interest in dating or fucking of any kind.”

Angel did a double take. “We seriously need to talk about your priorities, toots.”

“Not everything is about sex, you horny motherfucker,” Husk snaps.

“Wrong,” Angel sang, holding his glass up for another drink. “Everything in the world is about sex, except for sex. Sex is about pleasure.”

Husk begrudgingly pours himself another, rolling his eyes.

You snort into your wine. “Did you just misquote Oscar Wilde?”

Angel blinks at you.

“The quote is ‘everything in the world is about sex, except for sex. Sex is about power,” you correct.

Angel blinks again, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that’s right.”

The two of you laugh, Husk rolling his eyes.

“But you know what I mean?” Angel shrugged.

“Uhm,” you hid your mouth in your wine glass. “I don’t actually…”

Angel looked shocked. “Wait, don’t tell me, you’re a fucking virgin!?”

You finished off the glass royally humiliated.

“Oh, this is fucking priceless!” Angel hit the bar, wooing in excitement.

“Here we are!” Charlie kicks open the kitchen door, the bouquet of blue flowers in her hand. She rescued them from the trash can, fixed them up, and found a vase. “Like new!” The Princess places the vase before you, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

Angel, looked between you and the flowers and burst into a laugh so hard he fell off the stool.

“Oh my gosh! Are you alright?” Charlie helps him off the floor.

You turn to Husk and motion for the wine bottle. He gladly gives it to you, his energy matching yours.

Angel, wheezing, grabs a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear. You let him, shooting him a dumb look as he continues to laugh.

“Why?” You huff.

“Well,” Charlie bites her lip, still trying to process what was happening. “He went through so much trouble that I felt bad!”

Ah, yes, Ms. Bleeding Heart, you forgot.

There goes the rest of your evening…

____________________________________________

“What? You think I'm fucking lying?!” Blitz cowered behind his desk. “1923, Chicago. Esther Hadassah.” Blitz flipped over a photo and placed it before the Radio Demon. “1937, Lae, New Guinea. Hannah Samuel.” Another photo. “1947, Washington, D.C. Miriam Amren.” Another. “1969, back in Chicago. Phoebe Corinth.” Another. “The last one we have is from 1974, London. Mary Beth Lazarus.”

Five different photos; five different points in time; five different names, but one woman. All of the women photographed - although, different hair styles and clothing - looked exactly like YOU.

“This bitch has strong genes!” Blitz awkwardly laughed. “But we haven’t been able to find anything past 1974, yet.”

Alastor picked up one of the photographs of you in 1947. Your hair was curled into a cute little bob with waves more iconic of the 1930s than the late 40s. You had a large sun hat tipped slightly askew atop your head and a boa wrapped around your neck, which complimented your yellow dress beautifully. Your hair was blonde then, not dyed to silver like it was now, your skin was pink and full of life - you had a human disguise, but your eyes still shined their vibrant gold. You were sitting at a coffee shop reading a newspaper, a young lady sitting next to you, reading over your shoulder, her face hidden behind your hat.

The hat covered part of your face as well, but he would know those red lips anywhere.

The demon covered his face with his hand and laughed, an hysteric laugh. “Oooooh, someone’s keeeeeeeping secreeeeeeets.” He sang, a look of pure mania sprawling across his face as the music on his radio fizzled out to static.

“I’m sorry?” Blitz was thoroughly confused, terror growing in his eyes at the sudden darkening of the room.

You’ve been dead a lot longer than six years… He laughed again, the room turning green. Oh, Alastor was rightfully irritated after that little stunt you pulled today in the Entertainment District, but now? Now he was pissed.

In a spark of green flame, the demon slowly burned the photo of you to ash…

Time to go hunting.

____________________________________________

“Goodnight, guys!” You call over your shoulder, your thoughts muddled and the ache in your feet numbed by the wine.

You decided you needed a night off from babysitting the Vees. Not like they actually did anything anyway. You owed Mimzy a full headliner in a few nights and were going to need all your energy to get up early to practice before Charlie’s onslaught of trust exercises. How trust falls and circle activities were supposed to get you to Heaven’s door, you didn’t know, but hey, you signed up for this.

So, a hot shower, and a night of jazz awaited you. Or, whatever was playing on the radio, which was almost always jazz. Was that Alastor’s doing or…?

CREAK!

You spin, static zipping down your spine, but Alastor isn’t there. No one is there. Not even the shadows moved.

SNAP!

Another sound, from the other end of the hallway this time. Was it getting darker in here… and green?

AHHH! A scream.

You spin again, and suddenly, you’re not in the hallway anymore. You’re… in a swamp?

Crickets chirped in the night as the humidity licked your skin. Gigantic trees cascaded above you and around you, vegetation weeping from its branches as if the trees themselves were melting from the heat. The world was a mixture of browns and greens as the aroma of wildflowers danced across your senses. And stars… Through the canopy you swore you saw stars twinkling in the night.

You hadn’t seen stars in years.

In another situation, it would have been beautiful, but then the stars winked out, the world diving into a hue of green, the wind carrying the threat of radio static.

Alastor’s cackles echoed around you, bouncing off the trunks, making it hard to tell exactly where the demon was.

“This isn’t real,” you mumbled, the sweat sticking to your skin. “This isn’t real.”

It was a dream - a nightmare - it had to be. Last time the demon had you trapped you woke up in bed. Now, you were passed out drunk in your room, having a nightmare. You had to be.

A flock of birds takes off behind you, causing you to jump. Where the fuck had Alastor taken you!? This wasn’t Earth - although it looked a whole Hell of a lot like it. A pocket dimension?

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! You spun in circles, eyeing the treeline. If he was going to attack, he would have done it already. That or he’s toying with you. Alastor does like his theatrics.

You debated grabbing a stick and stabbing yourself; pain to wake you up, right? Wrong. That didn’t work last time. Alastor slammed you against the wall in the last dream and then nearly choked you to death - if that wasn’t enough to wake you…

“Oh, don’t look so scared.” Alastor cooed from the darkness. “I just wanted to have a little chat.” The demon materializes from the shadows before you, his smile twisted. You had seen Alastor’s barely contained anger before - in the way he held his shoulders, the tight curl of his lips when he smiled. This Alastor was barely keeping himself together. His eyes continuously flipped from irises to dials, a thread of green stitched across his smile, the antlers atop his head held a few extra prongs on either side. He could barely keep his demonic form contained.

The demon sings, his hands coming to rest atop the microphone before him. “What’s a chat between friends?”

You readied yourself. “Is that what we are now?” You were stalling. You needed to stall, to think of some way out of this. Think. Think! Think!

“I don’t know, darling,” he purred, “you tell me.” His static melted into your bones.

“I’m dreaming. This is a dream.” There, a break in the trees, a glow of artificial light. That had to be something!

Alastor’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Is it?”

You take a step towards what you hope is salvation, but the demon melts into shadow and appears behind you. He wraps his arms around your body, his one hand on your throat, the other around your waist. “Mr. Alastor!” Keep up the façade, if this wasn’t a dream you couldn’t risk him finding out who you are. “This is hardly appropriate!”

Alastor had every intention of confronting you tonight. He had every intention of demanding to know why you were here, at ~his~ Hotel. He wanted to know just how much power you had. You should have more souls than Carmilla herself at this point in time. You should be an Overlord rivaling that of Zestial. Yet you spent your undead years flitting back and forth between here and Earth? He wanted to know why. He wanted to know how.

The I.M.P. had only recently uncovered such power, but there were others in Hell - most notably the Succubi - who could travel back and forth between the realms. He wanted to know how you had uncovered such power for yourself, being a Human Sinner and all.

Yet, his eyes landed on the blue flower Angel had put in your hair, and now he couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t think about anything other than Vox and how he stood in the streets of the Entertainment District mere hours ago, holding your hand, trying to claim you for himself.

He wanted your soul that very first day you stepped into the Hotel. He didn’t know why, he just knew he had to have you. He had to possess you. You had to be his.

That night in the library when he probed you for your power, he couldn’t stop looking at your neck and the blood thrumming through it. How lovely you would look with a collar wrapped around your throat. How lovely you would look at the other end of a chain. Yet, his mind kept returning to thoughts of your blood. He had licked his lips in anticipation. He didn’t just want to own you, he wanted to taste you.

Thankfully, you had caught on to his little game and shoved him away. He didn’t know what he would of done had you not. Sure, he was a Cannibal in this life and the one before it, but he never had the urge to devour before. He ate because he liked the power it gave him, not because of the power beheld by his victims. But you? Oh, you smelled divine and he knew you would taste delicious.

So when he saw you hand in hand with Vox, well… He couldn’t have that now, could he? And then you rode off, disappearing and leaving him and Vox absolutely flabbergasted. You had shown him up. He couldn’t have you showing him up.

It made him look weak.

You squirmed in his arms, trying to break free. He clamped down around you harder. With his one hand around your waist, the other went to the flower in your hair. Holding it between his fingers, he summoned his green Hellfire and burnt it to a crisp.

And then you had the audacity to laugh at him, “Jealous your little boyfriend is moving on?”

Alastor growled, threatening to bite your head off. Then, something unexpected happened, he felt you suck in a shaky breath. Not because you were afraid - never because you were afraid - but because his growl had turned you on, and your ass was now perfectly aligned with his crotch.

His cock twitched to life in his pants at the thought, and you both froze.

Alastor was mortified. This has never happened before. He’s rarely had this ever happen in front of someone else, let alone because of someone else. The demon didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It had caught him more off guard than it had you. He didn’t…

You ground your ass into his hips.

The demon’s breath hitched, his lips pressing into your ear. You rolled your hips again, and the wave of pleasure it sent through him had his dick hardening. The demon instinctively grabbed onto your hips, not to stop you, but to pull you closer, to give you leverage as you rolled again.

His breath was shaky in your ear, his body leaning into you. You brought your hands up and went for his hair, threading your fingers behind his head for leverage.

Something buzzed between the two of you, almost as if Alastor's magic was instinctively reacting to your body. His static reached out to caress your form, making its way up your thighs, over your hips, and curling around your breasts.

A small gasp escaped your lips that had Alastor's blood singing.

On the next roll, the demon moved with you, running his lengthening member up your ass as your hips moved down.

“Fu.. Fuck,” he breathed into your ear, a wave of pleasure running through his body that had him practically bucking at the knees.

Your head fell back against his chest, your face flush with desire.

Shit, were you enjoying this as much as he was?

The demon spun you around, reaching out to cup your cheeks...

… and you side-kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying backward onto the swampy ground. Then you ran. Zipping past trees, branches smacking you in the face, you ran desperately for that source of light.

You didn’t dare summon any of your magic to get away. If Alastor didn’t already know you were the Shadow, this wasn’t the time to have him figure it out.

You practically fell face-first onto a wooden floor, having entered a room through a hole in the wall. Yes, definitely a pocket dimension.

Not slowing to look around, you slammed through the door and landed in the hallway of the Hotel, kicking the wood shut behind you.

Catching your breath, you sat and waited, waiting for the demon to barrel out after you. As you sat there and waited for Alastor to come and kill you, the scent of warm vanilla, orange, and mint hit your nose - coming from you.

Jesus, you smelled like a turned on victim.

The world behind the door remained silent. Not even the crickets of the swamp could be heard.

“What in the fuck just happened?” Angel stood shell-shocked behind you. He wore a set of pink pajamas, Fat Nuggets tucked sleepily under his arms. The demon looked between you and the door: Alastor’s door.

He gave you a knowing smile, “Did you hate fuck him?”

Shit. Not a dream.