#this screams radiodust to me

[sugoi-writes]

I WARNED YALL!!! I WARNED YOU THAT YOU WERENT READY

I wasn't READYYYYYYYY OH MY G O D

hello babies! I’m honored to kick off Kinktober! This whole month we will be posting stories alternating between us 6. The culmination is the prompt Ducky Ball Gag, that all 6 of us will be posting a story for. That is 36 stories this month….!💖 below is the schedule for this first week. Be sure to follow my fellow coven lovins to have an October that’ll keep you sweating 💦 you’re welcome to use the hashtags as well and share your kinky stories 👀

Coven: @fraugwinska @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes @macabr3-barbi3 @synamartia (banner by Syn!)

Kinktober 2024 - Day 1 - Ride

Alastor visits New York to hunt down Mimzy’s ex and takes a younger Angel Dust as his tour guide, despite Angel….. not being a tour guide. Angel decides nearly immediately he will fuck this fancy tourist. ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

「warnings/promises: TopHumanAlastor x BottomHumanAngel, physical abuse mentioned and referenced through bruises, smut, Alastor gets into being called Daddy, Age Difference, prostitution, jerking off fingers in the cinema, lube needed prescriptions, condoms came in cans, oh murder is on the menu but not ordered, pretty cocks, creampie」

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MDNI 🕷️ 🎥 📻

For Anthony, Alastor looked like a good ride. Clean cut, tall, built well (but nothing he couldn’t take in a fight if things got froggy), and nice clothes to boot.

He shoved the others out of his way to get to him first.

“Hey sugar, lookin‘ for a friend?” He beamed, proud pearly whites his best front facing indicator of his cleanliness. “Cuz I’m quite friendly.”

Alastor stiffened, the alarmingly youthful man sliding lithe fingers down his back. “You could say that! I was looking for a tour guide of sorts.”

He and Anthony briefly looked around at their surroundings— they were standing in front of a rather obvious hourly motel. Anthony was…. clearly not a tour guide. Was this strange man an idiot? He wasn’t above taking an idiot’s money but he drew the line at false advertisement.

“Oh.” Anthony’s tone fell flat, a tinge of disgust.

“I’d pay for your time.” Alastor offered, reading the other man’s expression with ease.

“Oh!” Sweet as honey and twice as thick, “Why didn’t ya lead with that! Sure!”

Alastor looked the young man up and down. He was dressed sharp, his shirt a little open for a man with the top two buttons undone to reveal pale and slick skin, slacks high and showing off his petite waist. Perfectly respectable enough.

“Whaddya wanna tour, daddy?” The pet name was said with a deeper voice then the the rest of the question, Anthony being sure to meet Alastor’s eyes when he said it.

Alastor extended his hand, glossing over the word entirely, “Where are my manners! Alastor.”

Anthony inspected his hand, turning it over before grabbing the left hand. No ring. He shook his hand back, “An-,” a cough, “Angel.”

“Angel?”

“Yeah, cuz I’ll make ya see heaven,” he winked. Alastor’s cackle hurt his feelings a tad. He nervously ran his fingers through his soft, blonde hair to self soothe.

“I just wanna see the city, Angel.” A pregnant pause, Alastor fidgeting a little with his vest, “How old are you exactly?”

Angel’s turn to laugh, but nearly immediately his face went flat and his bright eyes turned dark, “I have a baby face, but I’m of age. If you’re lookin’ for younger you’d bettah hop on a train back to whatever backwater hole you came from.” He tapped his foot, ready to turn and leave.

“Just a local guide, thank you!” A sigh of relief, “You’d be perfect.”

Sometimes customers claimed they just wanted a date, but this one seemed to actually want a tour guide. But money is money, so Angel hooked his arm into Alastor’s arm with renewed hospitality, “What’s your scene, fancy pants?”

“I’d like a drink, how about that first?” Alastor’s ever present smile beamed.

“Uhhh it won’t be the kinda places you’re used to.” He let his eyes drift down and back up the tall tourist with broadcasting judgement.

“Dear you don’t know the places I frequent. Do your worst.”

Angel felt a tingle down his spine, oh, he liked this one. “My worst? I know just the place.”

It took a head nod, a series of knocks to a tune Alastor didn’t recognize, and a secret phrase but finally he had a room temperature glass of illegally imported Irish whiskey in his hands.

“If you want a pick me up I can get you one of those too,” Angel watched him sip.

“Very generous but I’d rather keep my nose clean while in a new city.”

“Oh right! Are you visitin’ or can I expect to be seein’ yous around?” Angel’s fingers walked their way across the bar top to tap softly on Alastor’s left hand. The older man’s hand slid out from under his touch.

Alastor had left New Orleans for a reason, but not one he could tell others about. A certain person had been particularly cruel to his dear friend and bar owner, Mimzy. Alastor had made the extended weekend trip to give the man his opinion of such things.

“Just the weekend, I’m afraid,” he said it with a sing song voice void of any supposed fear, “I work in entertainment, so I’m hoping to find some new talent.”

Angel nodded, sounded like bullshit but he knew prying could make people switch up attitudes fast. His family taught him well enough to not ask too many questions. But then a lightbulb went off for him. The kind that overshadowed his smarter senses.

“Speakin’ of, you talk funny. You an actor or somethin’?” Angel asked, leaning on the bar with his body fully turned to Alastor.

“Radio show host.”

“Oooh fancy!” Angel smacked Alastor’s thigh, causing his newest client to jump. With a roll of his eyes, he whispered an apology and leaned his chin on his palm. His foot began to shake. Eyes flitting over to Alastor, who was motionless and grinning with unfocused eyes.

“You’re so quiet. Bor-ing.”

“Silence is a virtue.” Alastor’s ears were peeled for certain keywords. Hints for where to go next. Mimzy was tight lipped on where she’d worked before, but he knew the kind of places she enjoyed.

He wouldn’t call the trip a failure if he never found Chester. But it sure would be nice. His usual means of disposal were unavailable, but since he was so far from home and the city already quite busy with crime, he’d just roll ole boy into the water. It wasn’t like Chester’s associates didn’t usually rid each other of deadweight this way.

Angel chewed his bottom lip. This wasn’t necessarily better than fucking but he figured it was nice to have someone buying him the good hooch rather than stealing it from distracted bars and his uncle’s refreshment cart.

He inspected Alastor closer with a sharp side glance. His hair looked soft and fine, his skin washed and smooth. When he’d taken his hand he checked for dirt under his nails and didn't find a speck.

“You don’t look like you get a lot of hookers.” Angel twirled his finger in his glass and sucked the tip. Alastor choked a little, drink clanking loudly when he brought it down.

Angel watched him flounder, glasses slipping down his nose. Cute, he thought. When he smiled, his eyes wrinkled at the corners and Angel found it uncomfortably endearing.

“No, I don’t.” Alastor patted his chest. He thought Angel had been trying to get a rise out of him but instead the younger man was just toying with his drink, seemingly unamused and unbothered. If not for the smallest smile pulling his lips to the left he’d had assumed he imagined the comment.

Angel thought about the kinds of men and women he encountered. Often times, the most dangerous seemed to be the ones you didn’t expect. The gaunt bookish type always had some fetish for choking until you blacked out. The rich liked to make you scream in the worst ways.

“You’re not some weirdo like that guy in ‘The Most Dangerous Game’, are ya? Hunting people for sport.” He narrowed his eyes, waiting for a physical tell.

The apt comparison flew past Alastor as he was too thrilled with the other aspect of that question, “You watch thrillers?!”

“Oh do I, I’m a fan of anything that gets the blood pumpin’,” Angel winked at him.

“Do you actually watch these movies or are you just in the theater.” Alastor was suspicious, given Angel’s overall focus on sex.

“Well it started as just a nice and shady place for some hand stuff, but I started gettin’ really into ‘em. Pissed off the Johns so I started goin’ solo.”

Angel did enjoy the movies, but free time and disposable income could be scarce. Letting dates, of sorts, take him allowed the excuse he was working. Until the complaints started. His face and name were known by most in the neighborhood, so it wasn’t difficult for people to find a cousin or an uncle and vent about their poorly behaved slut of a family member. The missed screenings were worth the absence of bruises. It’s harder to work when you’re different shades of red and blue.

He didn’t understand how the small common interest made his new friend feel invigorated.

Alastor downed the last sips of his drink, “Alright! Let’s dance. Take me somewhere we can swing.”

“Finally! Thought ya hired me to bore me to death. A very slow hitman.”

With a quickly hidden panic, Alastor let the comment die and linked his arm with Angel’s.

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Angel was amazed at the sight; Alastor could dance.

“You aren’t as tightly buttoned up as I thought!” Angel’s hand was in Alastor’s as their bodies disconnected and spun away from each other. Meeting back again, hands to hands, their feet did all the work.

“You’re quite the dancer too, Angel.” Alastor leaned in, saying it loudly into the shell of the other man’s ear.

The blush it earned made him grin, he wasn’t trying to impress him but he did enjoy seeing the cocky man go quiet and pink.

“That’s a lovely color on you! I’ll have to keep making you blush.” Alastor whispered now, lips pressed to Angel’s skin not to entice but to ensure he was heard.

What’s life without a little teasing? And the younger man had been so talkative and assertive. Nothing gave Alastor quite the same thrill as making people act unlike themselves. Inspiring a meek woman to be brazen; a cocky man to shy away; a loud person to go silent.

Self betrayal. Influencing that in the people around him was his second favorite hobby. Maybe tied with dancing.

“Do you go out to dance often?” He asked, now peeled off of Angel. Angel shook his head. “But I thought you liked making your heart race?” He smirked.

Alastor was equal in size to Angel, but the blonde felt slight in the other man’s hold. There was a magnetism rolling off of Alastor’s body. Something in the way he spoke and moved made Angel want to please him. To get his approval. To make him waver that well coiffed image.

While Angel plotted how to do that, he kept his eyes glued to Alastor’s own, unable to break away. He knew his usual charms (grabbing his dick and pulling him into the bathroom) wouldn’t work, but an opportunity would surely present itself.

“You seem the kind of man who knows how beautiful he is. Odd, given you don’t seem arrogant about it.” Alastor was reading Angel with skills honed over decades of moving amongst others in secret. Commentary he usually kept to himself given freely as he wanted to understand the man more, “Who is making you think otherwise? You should be arrogant.”

Deep blue eyes looked to the left, escaping Alastor’s own now that the topic made their gaze too intimate, “Whaddya mean? I know I’m a dish! No one is sayin’ otherwise.”

Alastor observed the way his tour guide’s shoulders drew up and in, making himself physically retreat from the subject. He advanced.

“I said beautiful. Not some dish. And I didn’t mention anything about words bringing you down.”

A roll of his eyes, “You sure are talkin’ a lot now, I’m beginning to see the radio skills. Tell me then, Alastor, what actions are you prepared to do to confirm my beauty?”

A loud laugh, Alastor feeling cornered in the most exciting way. The only music was from a radio playing weakly on a table on a rather useless looking bar, but Alastor swung Angel around with the same energy he did for the live bands in New Orleans. It was silly, Angel thought, how quickly he forgot where he was.

He was, for the record, at the only place he knew was open and allowed dance. One he knew too well.

“Hey Anthony!” The man behind the dark wooden counter bellowed much louder than necessary. Alastor could feel Angel recoil in his arms, the dancing coming to an abrupt end. In truth, they’d been dancing for quite a few songs already. It felt cut short anyway, as they could have gone on for much longer. No one else was dancing, he noted, though the bar only had a couple other patrons.

“I’m workin’,” his hands slipped from their place in Alastor’s with a palpable reluctance before striding to the bar. Alastor followed shortly behind, not drunk enough to cut a rug alone in a strange place. The music wasn’t even that good if he was honest. In fact, every foot Angel grew further from the dance floor, the less appealing the beat became.

“Oh sorry, Angel,” the short man said it with an overt sarcasm that made it clear how he felt about Angel. Alastor found it quite grating. “Uncle wants to talk. Go upstairs for a sec.”

“I’m busy right now.” Hissed as he leaned over the bar too far, body stretching with a leg kicking up. Alastor admired the line from nape to ankle. He wondered what kind of life Angel could have as a dancer.

“Oh ya know what, that’s funny you mention it cuz,” the bartender smacked Angel’s head with his hand, “I wasn’t fucking asking.” Angel winced, excusing himself to Alastor and disappeared behind a door. The unnecessarily mean man sniffled, swallowing whatever he managed to inhale, and said, “You look like a bitch.” He pointed at Alastor with a short and blunt finger.

Alastor’s head shook slightly with the surprise of the statement. His smile was sharp and drawn in, failing to suppress a chuckle. He made a point of straightening his back and looking the man up and down. Red face, an alcoholic’s nose, little grubby hands, and cauliflower ears. Had the barkeep been kinder, Alastor could label the details as charming. But given the frame of cruelty they were in, they made his lip curl up in disgust. Looking down his nose at the man, he hummed.

“Ya know, it’s funny you mention that,” he parroted, “I was just thinking the same thing about you!” Alastor said it with measured pacing but quickly leaned away from the bar in time to dodge the unsavory barkeep’s hand smacking at his head.

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“Where did Dom go?” Angel seemed to bounce out the front door, looking back with worry. Alastor thought it was terribly misplaced.

“In the bathroom! Poor man slipped and his hit head.” Alastor wiped the grubby little finger smudges off of his glasses with his handkerchief, “Let’s just walk for a bit. The bars are a bust at this time of day.”

Angel’s brow rose at the statement, what did it matter if the bars were empty? Hell, a busy place was more likely to get raided than an empty one. He let the door close and rejoined Alastor’s side. Reaching over, he smoothed a few of the other man’s hairs back in place. His fingers continued down the back of Alastor’s ears and to the nape of his neck.

“Your hair is so short in the back.” He raked his nails in the prickly hairs.

“And yours is quite long in the front.” The back of Alastor’s hand pushed the blonde hair from Angel’s eyes. It was quite easy to look Angel in the eyes, as he was nearly the same height. He took a step back and offered his arm, “Shall we?”

A prideful chill, seeing that pink blush spreading across the milky white of Angel’s cheeks. Angel knew it was just pleasantries but he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to the gesture. Touching his hair so tenderly, willing to link arms together. He knew he’d get it bad if someone saw and told on him, but he’d let tomorrow’s Anthony deal with that. Today’s Angel was enjoying himself too thoroughly.

They walked in silence, not out of boredom or awkwardness, but a misplaced familiarity. Well, seemingly misplaced. Neither man knew how much they shared in common. How they both came from broken homes, for one. Nor that they both had killed men before with their hands and tools alike.

When Alastor stopped just outside a theater and looked to Angel expectedly, the New York native took his arm back.

“Really? I’m not doin’ hand stuff.” Angel pointed sharply at Alastor, an oddly effective show of control.

“I really don’t want you to.” Alastor opened the door for Angel, “After you.”

Settled into their seats, Angel was vibrating with excitement. He didn’t often have time for movies and nearly never did he have company. Actual company. Alastor saw the fidgeting and smirked, the unhidden joy was something he could admire.

“I wanna be an actor someday. Be a star. Doesn’t that sound grande? Everyone knows your name and face?” Angel leaned dreamily into Alastor’s left shoulder.

Alastor couldn’t imagine something worse, that’d be a sign he royally fucked up.

He chuckled to himself, realizing he was a semi public figure whose voice and name was quite well known. So, actually, it was quite grande. Angel asked him what was funny but he just shook his head.

Angel’s eyes lingered on him. The screen light was bouncing off his date’s glasses. He looked so nice. Like the kind of guy who cleans off your seat before you sit and always tops up your glass. The kind of guy who wipes off your back after he cums on you and then draws a bath.

He decided he’d make it his goal to cause Alastor to fold, to be as love drunk as all the others he set his sights on. Why not? He seemed well off enough, maybe Angel could get a sugar daddy. Someone to take him to movies and spin him around dance floors.

His hand came to rest on Alastor’s forearm on the arm rest, and when Alastor asked him if he needed the space he shook his head no. They watched the thriller in silence, Angel’s hand drawing little lines and circles onto the top of the radio host’s arm.

When the movie was over, they stayed behind a little. Angel sliding his hand down Alastor's arm and blanketing the much larger hand.

“So this is what would happen.” Angel gripped two of Alastor’s slender fingers, “During excitin’ moments,” he made a fist around the digits and began short but fast jerking motions, “my hand would slow.” He mimicked the story with his mock handjob. “And when something shockin’ happened, I’d squeeze em waaay too tight.” He gripped Alastor’s fingers.

The action made the older man bite his lip, he wasn’t normally cognizant of sexual needs but Angel’s eyes never left his as he tightened and pumped his digits. He’d be lying to say his heart didn’t quicken a little.

“So, I had to stop bringin’ guys here.” Angel released his fingers. He watched with sharp eyes as Alastor stood and adjusted his pants slightly before offering a hand to him.

As they walked out and into the soft glow of dusk, Alastor asked if he disliked his job.

“Seems very impersonal.” He added.

Angel hooted “I love my work! Honestly the sex is the best part. I can’t stand that slow lovey shit. I need a good hard fuckin’ to get off. Plus, I like the variety.”’ His eyes brows danced up and down. The topic made Alastor grimace, he didn’t like the mental image of Angel receiving a variety of men.

“Do you ever find … more with your clients?” Alastor was curious, genuinely. Angel was younger than him, mid-20s it seemed, but he didn’t seem interested in anything deeper than sex. Surely by this age he was hoping to find meaningful companionship?

Angel kicked a rock, “Nah. I’m not opposed. But most men, they’re not exactly advertisin’ their love of cock.”

“Not like you.”

“Exactly! I’m not gonna be some guy’s dirty secret he rage fucks when his wife nags him too hard about … I don’t fuckin’ know. Money. Dirty clothes. Small apartments.” His hands were animated, moving around themselves to jazz up the point. Alastor nodded. It made sense to him. He didn’t want to subject someone to being a placeholder for society’s expectations of him. Alastor didn’t want to be the kind of person Angel didn’t want to be kept by. A man living a lie for the sake of pleasing the world around him, that fictional closeted man in Angel’s example, he could understand him well. And he didn’t want to become him. He hummed to himself low and quiet, taken aback by the compatibility he hadn't anticipated when he approached the group of men and women loitering in front of the shady motel. The non-response made Angel feel he’d been too open. He needed to close that vulnerable topic. “Sooo, did you want to go anywhere else or what?”

It was getting late, meaning Alastor’s chances were even better of finding some clues that could lead to his target.

“If you have the time…,” Alastor trailed off. Angel nodded in approval but stopped walking. He stopped too and looked back at his guide. Angel’s shirt seemed to have been unbuttoned another button, and his hand on his hip accentuated his shape. The mental image returned, but it wasn’t variety he saw now pressing Angel into a soft surface.

Something about the conversation, the realization they both were just trying to live their lives freely and as openly as they could without prosecution, made Alastor want to explore the other man more. Inside and out.

“Ya know you’re rackin’ up a pretty bill here. How’s about we stop at mine, you pay up for the day, and I can get ready to go out properly?” The sly smile made Alastor’s heart skip a beat, but it was the blatant challenge in Angel’s eyes that made his cock twitch. Angel barely said anything suggestive at all, but the way he seemingly dared Alastor to say no to the invitation was plainly a tell.

Had Angel asked him a couple hours earlier, he’d had handed him the cash and left. But, now? Well…

Alastor’s hands settled into his pockets and he leaned back on his heels, “Sounds grande. Lead the way.”

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“Take a load off, I’m gonna freshen up.” Angel slunk off into the bathroom as soon as the door was shut.

Alastor roamed the small one room apartment. A curved bar hung in the corner, a couple shirts and two trousers on hangers there. He felt the material between his fingers; expensive. Out of place in the space. Clearly he prioritized his image over his comfort. Alastor could feel a draft coming from the closed window, and the floor was warped.

He looked over the dresser, small make-up items neatly set in front of the mirror. Powder foundation and cream concealer. A faint lip tint. Alastor sat on the bed — it made a loud squeak as several springs whined under his weight. Leaning down he spotted a box and pulled it out. Heavy. Inside was a pistol, several photos, a small tin of condoms, and a silver money clip of bills. He closed it and slid it back.

The door creaked open and Alastor looked over his shoulder. Angel was in a black robe patterned with pink roses— a woman’s robe, it seemed. He knelt on the small bed and slide his long arms down Alastor’s torso from behind. Resting his head on his shoulder and pressing his chest into Alastor’s back, he undid the top button of his suit jacket.

“I want you to pay me now.” Angel’s tone was husky and, Alastor was sure he was misinterpreting this but, provocative. When Alastor tried to get up Angel’s strong arms pulled him back down. Chuckling, the now nervously excited Alastor raised his hips and fished out his cash.

“I never did ask how much.” Alastor realized.

Angel hummed, “How much ya got?”

A breathy laugh, Alastor pulling out a Jackson. Angel whined. Alastor unfolded another. Angel whined longer in a higher pitch. When he pulled out a third bill Angel pressed a kiss to his cheek and took the cash. Lying on his stomach he slid out the box, set the money within, and closed it.

“Now that that’s done.” Angel grabbed Alastor by the shoulders again and pulled him down, his strength startling. Alastor let himself be maneuvered, Angel putting his legs up and pushing his back into the pillows barely cushioning his spine from the metal headboard. Alastor didn’t say anything, just watched curiously at where this was going.

When Angel straddled him a smile pulled at his mouth. “What’s this, Angel?”

The robe opened, Alastor seeing Angel was entirely nude, a soft shine on his thighs catching the dirty yellow light of the room’s singular hanging bulb. His eyes drifted down a shaved and pale chest, a flat and toneless stomach, and a mess of bright blonde curls above a very pink and half hard cock.

“I prepared in the bathroom. And,” Angel leaned over and grabbed a small bottle, “I’m going to prepare you now, too.”

Alastor opened his mouth but Angel kept talking, “I know a guy, in case you were wonderin’. Doctor who will give anyone a lubricant prescription for enough money. Crisco is so hard to wash off…”

Angel didn’t see Alastor smirking or nodding, his hands busy undoing the other man’s buckle and pants. He found no resistance, Alastor letting him tug off his clothing until he was naked from the waist down. “Be a doll and take off your shirt and shit.” Angel poured the lubricant onto Alastor’s still very limp dick and began pumping. Alastor did as he was told, shrugging off his suit jacket and vest, then undoing his shirt and letting them all lie half behind him and half around him.

As Angel felt Alastor grow heavy in his palm and watched him become larger and longer, his mouth began to water. It was an attractive cock, two toned tan and pink. Not something he often saw. Little fantasies of choking on that length danced in his head. He nestled himself into the tan thighs and inspected Alastor for any signs of disease.

Not a blemish in sight, no growths or warts. He was clean, and Angel dared think he was even quite pretty to look at. As his foreskin drew back and his head was made bare, Angel decided to take him into his mouth. He hadn’t planned on it, but it seemed so enticing. He had to know, did he taste as sweet as he acted?

Alastor hissed, not in displeasure but from sensitivity. No one had sucked his dick in ages. He wasn’t a huge fan, but he liked watching Angel do it. His cheeks were flush, that complimentary color back. It made the light corn yellow of his hair seem to pop even brighter.

The weight of him on Angel’s tongue grew and Angel revelled in the reaction. Something about it made him feel powerful. His goal was coming to fruition.

“Glad to see you could get it up!” He teased, mood becoming light when Alastor tasted vaguely of soap.

“I’m only 40, Angel.”

“Meh sounds old. I’ll be long dead before then.” He began running his fingers along the impressive length. The other man wanted to argue how sad it was to think he’d be dead in what…a dozen odd years? But Angel moved on too quickly. “You’re packin’ more than I thought. This might actually be fun.”

Angel climbed onto Alastor and began lining him up. He was impatient now, hard and leaking from the little bit of Alastor he had in his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m clean — and don’t let ‘em finish in me. My work rule. Condoms and all that.”

When Alastor’s slit was swiped over the lubed but still puckered entrance, Alastor clenched his eyes in response. He wasn’t sure how he’d started the day looking for someone to kill and ended up here, cock in the hands of a pretty man being rubbed along as his asshole. When Angel began the push, Alastor sat up reflexively. He felt blunt, and like the hole he was being squeezed into was not able to take him.

Angel knew better, and bit his lip in preparation for the initial pain. He hadn’t used enough fingers when he was frantically trying to get himself ready. But Angel was nothing if not ambitious. He held his breath and let his weight drop a few inches. Alastor’s hands shot to his slender hips to still him, the little cry Angel made worrying him that he’d hurt the man.

Or, that Angel had hurt himself.

Eyes wide and panicked, he felt himself go a little soft despite how tight he was being gripped. His cockhead was forced in, Angel’s hole quick to try and close again as soon as Alastor’s glands were past the rim. Using his hand to hold Alastor firm, Angel managed to fit the rest of him in.

When his balls came to rest on the curly hair above Alastor’s cock, he took a moment to breathe. Alastor hadn’t regained his erection fully, so when Angel lifted up his prize nearly folded out.

It happened sometimes– sometimes men just got caught up in the minute details of anal sex and got soft, is what Angel told himself as he tried to grind against the heated lap and bring Alastor back to life in him.

It felt good for him, soft or not the movement of his hips made himself jump with flickers of pleasure. Surely, Alastor would be hard again soon.

But when he looked up to Alastor, expecting to see a pleasured expression, he saw the man looked nearly confused. Face to face, suddenly he felt embarrassed. He felt naked and foolish.

Clearly, Alastor wasn’t into him.

Obviously, he’d made a mistake.

“What’s wrong with ya? You’re not— fuck, I get it.” Angel hurried off of him, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Alastor froze, unsure what had happened. Had he hurt him, after all? Or was he angry he became soft? Alastor sat up and leaned forward, moving that well tended to hair from his almost-lover’s face. “Just go. You’ve made a joke of me enough already.”

“Where’s the joke? Am I laughing?” Alastor asked softly, smile impossible to banish.

Angel grabbed his robe and bunched it into his hands, burying his face there. “If you don’t wanna fuck me then that’s fine,’I’m not some creep whose gonna make ya!” Alastor looked at him and couldn’t help but think he was quite cute when he was overreacting.

“Well you were fucking me, I think. Though, I’m not the professional here.” His hand came to rest on Angel’s shoulder. Alastor wasn’t sure where else was appropriate to touch.

Angel turned his head and gave him a sharp look. A little chill came to Alastor, it was a glare that could cut and he found that uniquely arousing.

“Would you like to try again? Come here.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat beside Angel, patting his thighs, “Facing me.” Angel’s eyes looked from cock to face, then back. His pout made Alastor melt a little. Such a cute face on such a dirty boy. He took Angel’s hand and set it on his lap, “Do it like you did with the men in the movies who got mad.”

A flame flared back up in Angel’s stomach. He wrapped his fingers around the small and pliable cock and started slow and gentle, before squeezing him tighter at the base. Alastor leaned back on his palms, letting his eyes close and focus on the sensations and less on the odd situation he was in. Not that he was complaining, it was a stress relief he hadn’t turned to in ages. He felt that build up of heat in his crotch, pleasure lighting up the darkness of his closed eyes. Opening them again, he patted Angel on the hip and urged him back onto him.

“Could you help me-?” He asked, focused on trying to catch his now swollen head on the slick entrance but knowing he wasn’t sure exactly where to press in.

“Do you have much experience with men?” Angel lifted up and guided Alastor back into him. His hole was still softened, Alastor hard enough to be pushed in easily. A small pleasured sigh tumbled out as he was filled again.

Alastor hissed, still sensitive slit raking over Angel’s heated flesh from the inside. He shook his head no.

“None?” Angel sank down slowly.

“Does this count?” Alastor’s eyes were transfixed onto where he was disappearing into Angel. Rarely did he take interest in the mechanics of sex, but seeing his thick member be taken into the small frame was making his head spin.

“No,” when Angel laughed, Alastor tensed. The shaking of the chuckle reaching his core.

Fully in and feeling Angel’s heartbeat around his most sensitive area, Alaster grabbed his waist with both hands and began to roll his hips up into Angel. Not thrusting yet, he wasn’t sure how long he could last if he did.

A loud, sudden moan tore through Angel’s lips, breath rocking Alastor’s tousled hair. The sound was nice. The radio host kissed at his escort’s cheeks, feeling the warmth of his blush now against his lips. It tasted even better than it looked. His mouth moved to the side to pepper his hairline with quick pecks. It was sweet, nearly too much so for Angel. He leaned back with one hand on Alastor’s knee and changed the angle. When he found the spot he needed, he began to bounce on the stiff cock buried so deeply in him.

He hit his g-spot, moaning louder with each swipe. His head fell back, every breath now carrying another wispy moan into the otherwise silent room.

And then it happened. Alastor groaned, the feeling of his cockhead rubbing against puffy and slick walls compounded with the vision of Angel crying while he rode him made him lose his control. The sound made Angel shudder, now with both hands on Alastor’s legs he picked up his pace. He needed to hear it. He wanted more of Alastor’s noises for him.

When he hit his spot again, harder than before, his body shook and once deep moans now became high pitch and short screams. That thick cock twitched forward in his guts somewhere imprecise, making his knees draw in between their chests, feet planted on the bed.

“Does– fuck, it look like I’m mocking you,” Alastor moaned mid sentence, needing a few breaths to regain his composure, “now?”

Angel could only shake his head, focusing on his tempo.

Alastor was losing his breath. His hands took over the rhythm, pulling Angel down and toward him harder and faster as he felt his balls drawing up and near. Angel felt like hot, tight silk gliding over his cock. When he buried his head into the crook of his neck he found his skin the same — soft and luxurious to the touch. He moaned into his neck, “I’m going to finish; where?”

Angel’s arms wrapped around Alastor’s head, drawing his forehead in to rest on his, “Finish in me.”

“I thought you said that’s against your work rules. You don’t let them-.” Alastor’s eyes wandered over Angel’s shining blue irises before kissing him on the mouth. The sentence wasn’t worth finishing.

Angel returned the kiss, pulling apart to gasp out a reply. “I’m not working right now,” rushed into Alastor’s sweat covered cheek, “I was just a tour guide you already paid, remember?”

Alastor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t control his body anymore. His lips reclaimed Angel’s and he used his often overlooked strength to fuck up into the tight, melting pleasure until his hips stuttered. His climax weakened his muscles in his thighs and stomach, only allowing another three deep thrusts as he came into the other man. Angel broke the kiss to moan Alastor’s name, the feeling of powerful and overflowing spurts of his seed filling him up. He felt warm inside and out.

After a few calming breaths, but before Angel could dismount, Alastor began stroking his still hard and leaking cock.

“What— ah, your hands are so soft.” His head fell onto Alastor’s shoulder.

He rocked his hips again, despite Alastor softening already. But as Alastor’s fingers slid over his head and spread his precum down his shaft, he started to ride again in earnest. Repositioning so his knees were on either side of Alastor’s thighs, he started fucking himself like Alastor was his newest toy. Head lolling to the side he let his mouth run, “Oh, fuck yes, daddy.”

Angel felt another twitch as Alastor hardened again in him.

“Oooh, you dirty old man!” Faster, his face smug but breaking into a pleasured slack jawed mess with each heavy hit, “Come on daddy, fuck me. Pound into me until I cum on your cock.”

“Anthony.” Alastor’s attempt at chiding was betrayed by his erection, now fully formed again and stretching Angel’s hole. He reached his lips to Angel’s, “You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up, daddy.” Their teeth hit with the clumsy, impassioned kiss. Alastor couldn’t figure out why exactly the nickname was getting him so worked up. He wasn’t a father and sure as shit didn’t think highly of them. But when Angel moaned it like it was some high praise, a singular position above him that granted him some kind of power, his heart quickened.

His hand began to stoke faster, hips thrusting up as Angel rolled his own hips forward with every meeting of skin. “Fuck me like a slut, Alastor.” Alastor could feel the carefully shaved and lotioned body tensing against him , “Use me. Be rougher.” It wasn’t a request, and Alastor loved that tone on Angel.

He fisted a handful of his hair and pulled back his neck, that hair in grip just as silken as the rest of him. Angel himself very much like the elusive fabric, his wit allowing him to glide effortlessly along Alastor’s own intellectual way of speaking and charm letting him slip through Alastor’s many attempts to know him on a deeper level.

Angel wanted something harder, and though it was out of the celibate’s wheelhouse he tried to meet expectations. Head dipped down, he let spit drip onto his pistoning hand, “You get off on being a cock sleeve, Anthony?” Watching the prim Alastor lube his cock with spit was so out of character Angel’s eyes rolled close, hole clenching tighter. “Daddy’s little slut?” Angel whimpered and nodded enthusiastically as best he could.

A moment to inspect the younger man’s face, Alastor wondering if he’d ever again see such a sight. Angel’s pristine chest and shoulders heaving, sweat sliding down his enticing neck, and mouth hanging open as he choked out his name.

“Come undone for daddy.”

A broken and strained, “Fuck!”, Angel pushing Alastor down onto the bed and riding him through the final thrusts he needed to cum. He bottomed out, knees coming to touch over Alastor’s modestly toned stomach.

His spend spilled over Alastor’s knuckles and stomach weakly, small cock twitching pitifully as it ran dry.

Leaning up on his elbows, Alastor inspected his hand. Messy. Angel patted his chest twice and dismounted, promising a speedy towel.

“Did I do that?” Alastor’s voice was quick and seemed to briefly lose its trans-atlantic pitch. There was a dark bruise on Angel’s ribs, nearly to his back, that he hadn’t seen before until the young man turned around. He gently traced his fingers along the edge and found his fingertips painted with a soft pinkish white powder.

“Oh no, ha.” Angel pulled away, slipping on his robe. When he turned back to offer the hand towel, he saw the upset worry painting Alastor’s usually smiling face. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not some freak. I like it rough, not abusive. Just a family issue.” Eyebrows to his hairline, smile noticeably flatter, Alastor was unconvinced. “My family’s a real… uhh, tight knit one. Lots of rules and all that jazz.” Angel added.

“And this? Also… familial?” Alastor wiped away the make-up hiding a discolored wrist. Now that he knew what to look for, he was finding suspicious patches across Angel’s body.

“Ugh, that tone. Like ya pity me. Like —like, ya think I’m some victim.” He snatched the towel back and began wiping Alastor’s stomach. “This is just how things are, alright? Ya fuck up and you gotta learn to — to stop makin’ everything harder for evergone else.”

“I don’t pity you. Nothing about you is pitiful. I’m just surprised. You seem like the retaliatory type.” Alastor reached to take the towel back but was denied.

“You got that right. But no one hits back against my cousin. It’s best to just keep your head down.”

“And is that what you do? Keep your head down?” The insinuation wasn’t lost on Angel, who scowled while taking the other man’s hand and cleaning it finger by finger.

“Angel?” Alastor asked, naked and still being glared down at.

“What.” Angel set his hand down and walked to the bathroom. Alastor lied back down and let his head hang over the side of the bed, watching an upside down Angel saunter by. A vantage point he didn’t mind, eyes level with a very pert and now pink ass. Thanks to Alastor’s thighs.

“One last tour stop, before we enjoy a proper night out. If you have the time.” Angel leaned back so he could see Alastor’s face and nodded, waiting for more. “To a telegram office.” Alastor would need to let work know he’d be gone a little while longer.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

[jules-9-7-1]

Radiodust/RadioHuskerDust

FOUND FAMILY

UPDATED had another realization

This FUCKING sequence made me scream giggle

Me SCREAMING at my tv: WHO ARE YOU LOOKING AT SIR!?

Update: WAIT, WITNESS...FIND connection!?

That can only mean HUSKERDUST!!!

My reasoning: witness and find imply someone who DIDN'T already have a connection

Charlie/Vaggie were already a couple and while we can see the girls talking to Cherri and Sir Prentious to see if he has a chance with Cherri,

CHERRI BARELY HAS BEEN HERE

THEREFORE

he's looking at Angel and Husk!

LOOK AT HIM! HE'S SO FOND!!!?

SIR WHO ARE YOU LOOKING AT!?

It made me want to use the expression:

SHAKING THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!

This post is me gushing about the shipping part of this scene

However

I also need to rant about the potential plot of this interaction

(Posting that separate)

[candywraptor]

WIP Wednesday - Untitled Ruin Sequel (RadioDust)

Angel didn’t remember the first days - at least, not very well. He had fled from that foreign place - from the wide, mocking grin and the wild, unfeeling stare - and he had gone to his room. He didn’t know if he had been seen or if he made any noise as he’d darted through the halls, his head low and his arms wrapped around his middle - trying to keep himself whole, to keep the pieces from spilling onto the floor. There was only the barest wisp of memory, just a ghostly specter of a thing, of hearing the door snick closed behind him, covering him in darkness, before his legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed under the weight of it all. He remembered the feel of unfamiliar, high pile carpet under his fingers as he’d twisted it, ripping at it, the tears coming instantly - silently at first as he’d curled in on himself and felt like his inside were trying to melt into one sick puddle in his gut.  He had ground his teeth to the point of pain, his hands raising to yank at his clothes, his fur, his hair - ripping out strands by their roots as he struggled to take a breath, his body shaking with the effort of silence.  The ceiling was falling in on him - the temple they had built, the fortress where Angel had been safe and warm and hidden inside - was collapsing all around him. The rubble was crushing, the sound of his whole world cracking in half and giving way into a chasm of black, empty nothing was deafening and it peeled his sanity away from him in ribbons, taking his mind and puncturing wide, gaping holes into his reality - into all things he’d thought he’d known, the things they had built. It was gone.  His breathing came to him then, he could feel his lungs start to inflate and it was too fast - he was hyperventilating - and somehow Angel made it to the bed. He never remembered getting up, never remembered crossing the room, but he knew he had because that was when he’d started to scream.  He’d buried his face into the pillow, drawing no air, close to suffocation - wishing for it - as he sobbed and screamed and lost himself to delirium. He was no more, no longer a person - no longer a thing with solid matter or a body or thoughts or consciousness. He was only the anguish that pressed in all around him, ripping the shrieking from his chest, soaking the blankets with tears and shaking him apart at the seams - at the ends of his soul.  It was devastation and pain like he had never felt before. It was all consuming, a gaping maw of teeth and void that left room for nothing else. He was lost to it, drowning in it, soaked in the desolation and the broken, jagged pieces of his decimated world. Glass and darkness and pain - so, so much pain. In every inch of him, in every piece of everything he was - his heart, his lungs, muscle and bone. Anguish and agony and nothing, nothing else. It was like dying. 

This is the first chapter for a squeal to Did I Ruin Your Night? (Did I Ruin You?) a RadioDust fic and also my first fic in general. It takes place right after the orphaned A Fool For Lesser Things.

Mixed emotions here but I have ideas that have been knocking around for a long while and I think I can put them into words now. Looking forward to writing Angel again!

I'm going to try and get into the habit of posting WIPs every Wednesday, too. I think it will get me engaged and I enjoy sharing. Hopefully, there will be another next week!

[bensonluvr69]

TW: S/A

so I've been watching hazbin hotel on websites other than prime.

my toxic "friend" watched the scene where sir pentious gets dragged away and s/a'd.

i ask her what she thinks about the episode so far and she says something along the lines of "hahaha i feel bad for sir pentious, he fucked up when he said he'd have sex with everyone!" and i just sit there wanting to tell her off but she doesn't know how much viv is a horrible person and i dont want to cause any conflict right now because im already in a horrible mental state.

but... what i wanted to say was even if he said that, he immediately was being dragged away, CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR SCREAMING. even if he was actually willing to, 1. he was intoxicated. 2. consent can be revoked at any time and his body language SHOWED that he didnt actually want to do it.

this is the same friend that shipped radiodust until i told her alastor was aroace, said "i can fix that" when i told her angel dust was gay and didnt like women (she meant she'd turn into a boy apparently but that was still really weird), constantly misgenders me and blames it on her "stupid brain", and is more upset at the fact that she can't buy cheap shit at hobby lobby anymore than knowing that they DONATE TO CHURCHES THAT SUPPORT CONVERSION THERAPY. that's not even all.

before you say anything, the only reason i haven't dropped her is because i actually wanted to give her a second chance. and i dont know how to drop her because i want to prove a point to her that she can't just blame her actions on her brain or her adhd. i have adhd and i at least know critical thinking skills.

but yeah on the topic of hazbin, im only watching it to please my younger self but i also love some the character designs and very few of the characters. i like looking at other peoples analysis and criticisms of this show on here. this mostly turned into a rant about someone but i wanted to rant about hazbin as well. i hate how sa is taken seriously in one episode and then played for laughs in the next.

also if i say something wrong or got something wrong please tell me gently

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

•• RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 17/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

CW: More violence/abuse, torture of Angel Dust, general Vox and Valentino, lots of people yelling at each other

I still firmly believe Blitzø and Alastor would get along really well

Also, to some of the questions about Vox’s methods last chapter: he’s a propagandist who does battle in the arena of public opinion, of course he would run a smear campaign against Alastor

•••

Darkness slowly gave way to deep gray that lightened to a pale and muted red, which split to reveal blinding electric blue and almost endless black as Angel Dust slowly opened his eyes.

“Wha…?” he murmured, cringing from that brightness as his brain desperately tried to catch up to where his body currently was. He didn’t feel anything, but it was a fuzzy and numb sort of nothing, like every part of his body had been wrapped in cotton batting. Angel tried to move, and immediately, sensation returned to him like he had just been bull-rushed by the very concept of pain itself. He couldn’t scream, despite his best efforts; his breath escaped him in a long and hoarse exhale that made barely any sound at all. His side and abdomen were undoubtedly the worst of it, an unimaginable agony filling him every time he so much as breathed.

Calm the fuck down.

His little self-admonition helped, but not by much. Angel gritted his teeth, glancing around himself to determine his surroundings. Immediately, his breath caught, dread flooding him. He knew what those strips of bright blue light meant, and even worse, he could smell the lingering traces of the last person he wanted to see ever again.

He was back at VoxTek.

It looked like one of the filming studios, judging by the size of it, but the entire thing was empty. He was suspended in midair, maybe eight or so feet from the concrete floor, which was splattered with blood; he was face down, bound by his hands (one set over his head and one set behind his back) and his feet, which left him unable to straighten out from the forward arch that was making every inhalation absolutely unbearable. His face hurt, too, and he could tell just from the feeling that something had cut him and blood had dried on his skin and in his fur.

“Fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and trying to find a way to move. But it didn’t just hurt because of his face, or whatever was wrong with his side, or his limbs. He was freezing, just warm enough that he wasn’t fully numb but so cold that the simple act of flexing his fingers made him ache. Fighting through the agony, he tried twisting his wrists, but the material binding him weren’t ropes. They weren’t even zip ties. They felt like cables, the sorts of cables Vox had winding throughout the entire building, and every time he tried to pull his hands free he heard a soft and threatening buzz of electricity.

Angel drew breath, fighting through the pain, and managed (after three false starts) to shout into what felt like the unending void that surrounded him in the empty studio. “Hey! Shitheads!! I’m fuckin’ awake now!!”

His voice echoed back into his ears, and as the sound slowly died into silence, and Angel hung his head, clenching his jaw against the desire to cry or scream or anything from the pain. But he simply hung in suspended silence for what felt like half an hour before he heard the door open on the other side of the studio. He didn’t look up, because it was too hard, and the pain was too great. But he didn’t need to.

“Hola, amorcito.”

Angel gritted his teeth. “Val.”

Valentino took his time crossing the room. He stopped in front of Angel and then reached up to take his chin in hand and wrench his face upwards to look at him. Angel whimpered, pain radiating down his spine at the sudden movement; because of the height he was suspended at, he still had to look up at Valentino, just a little. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” the overlord complained, his sarcasm blatant.

“Would you be happy to see you?” Angel asked, his voice raw.

Oddly, Valentino smirked at him. “You’ve gotten yourself an injection of courage, haven’t you? Wonder where that came from.”

“What d’you want, Val?” Angel asked in a faint voice, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he could ever remember. He tried to let his head hang once more, but Valentino kept hold of his face, forcing it to remain raised.

Valentino sighed. “Angel, baby… you’re out of time. You know that, don’t you?”

“…yes.”

It wasn’t my fault.

“Then you know what I want,” Valentino said.

Angel saw movement to the moth overlord’s side, and he looked down, his eyes widening. When the fuck did Vox come in?

“We did warn you,” Vox said, his voice almost unbearably smug. “And now you’ve forced our hand. But don’t worry, Angel Dust, I doubt this will take very long.”

Angel bared his teeth, an ineffectual move at best, particularly with how he was currently being held. “The fuck’d you do?”

Vox’s smile grew, his right eye narrowing. “Oh, we simply issued a challenge to my old friend. You and I both know Alastor will ignore many things, but a blow to his reputation? Oh, he can’t abide that. His ego is far too inflated.”

Angel narrowed his own eyes, but he couldn’t argue. One of Alastor’s greatest weaknesses was his desperate need to control how other people saw him; the idea that someone, somewhere, might have formed an opinion about him counter to that would drive the Radio Demon up the wall. And Vox was, after all, a propagandist who had no small part in convincing the entirety of the Pride Ring to stop waiting for their absent ruling family’s return and to start fully relying on the overlords. If he could turn public opinion on Charlie, of all people, he could turn it on Alastor, if he was really determined to.

And as long as he doesn’t lose his shit like last time, I guess.

Angel couldn’t help smirking. “So, what, you’re baiting him to come here?” he asked. “Alastor’d fuck all three of you up.”

Vox’s smile turned significantly nastier. “Oh, you stupid little whore,” he said, pouring all the condescension he could muster into those words. “Don’t you think that, if Alastor could add us to the radio chorus, we’d already be there?”

Angel narrowed his eyes. But it was something he’d wondered before. Alastor took out other overlords. It was his thing. There weren’t a lot of logical reasons for the Vees to still be operating, but… Alastor left them alone.

Why does Vox call him a coward?

Valentino tightened his grip on Angel’s face, forcing his eyes up. “Alastor won’t be dealing with us anyway, baby. We’re going to leave him to you.”

Angel snorted. “You really think that’s happenin’? I ain’t fuckin’ stronger than the Radio Demon, and even if I was, why would I do that shit for you?”

“You don’t have a choice,” Valentino said with a level of certainty that made Angel… nervous. “Don’t forget. In the studio… I own you,” he whispered. “You said so yourself, araña. And you can check your contract if you’d like, but in the studio, you have to do anything that I tell you to do.”

Angel’s eyes widened as he thought back to everything he had done over the course of his career. So many detestable, disgusting things, things he hadn’t wanted to do, things that had made him actually vomit, things that he couldn’t say no to because the contract wouldn’t permit him to. In the studio, he was Valentino’s plaything. “…I’m not stronger than Alastor,” he repeated, his voice weak.

“I don’t think you’ll need to be.” Valentino stroked his fingertips across Angel’s cheek, catching torn skin and making the spider hiss in pain. “I told you. This bond is getting broken, whether you like it or not. And we’ll arm you appropriately, when the time comes.”

Vox was simply watching in silence. Angel glanced down at him, and Vox… he smiled. Angel looked away. “…”

“Good boy,” Valentino purred, finally releasing him. “You can just stay here.”

“What? No, Val, please…!”

“Oh, no no no, amorcito. You won’t be escaping this time,” Valentino said. “Think of this as your punishment. I’ll let you down once you decide to behave.”

Valentino stroked his face once more, then he turned, leaving the studio space. Angel drew a shaken breath when he heard the door shut, the slam echoing through the studio again.

“You know something?”

Angel started and looked up; he hadn’t realized that Vox was still there. But still there, he was, standing with his arms folded in thought as he considered Angel as though he was a mildly interesting art installment. “…what?” Angel asked, once he realized Vox wasn’t going to continue until he got acknowledgment.

“This was Valentino’s idea,” Vox said. “Honestly, at first, I was a little trepidatious. After all, it’s quite the risk. Provoking the Radio Demon is a sure way to cause all kinds of property damage. But… here’s the thing.” Vox placed his hands behind his back, smiling up at him. “Valentino is very taken with you. He has, if you’ll forgive the pun, a blind spot where you’re concerned. He seems to be under the impression that, should you attack him, Alastor won’t fight back.”

Angel twitched a little. He didn’t speak.

“But I don’t think that’s true,” Vox continued. “I think that, once he sees you’re being compelled by your contract, Alastor won’t hesitate to absolutely destroy you.” His smile sharpened. “You know you won’t have a chance against him. He’s going to kill you. How does that feel?”

“Fuck you,” Angel whispered.

Vox shook his head. “Oh, Angel Dust. Crass until the end. Don’t worry,” he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. “I’ve heard that being made a member of his chorus is one of the most painful and horrific things a soul can endure. And you’re a masochist, right?” He laughed, carrying that sound to the door as he let himself out of the studio and left Angel alone.

Angel let his head hang again, shivering from cold and pain. This should never have happened. He couldn’t help feeling that this was his fault. He pushed Alastor for time together, he was the one who kept testing his boundaries… hell, if he hadn’t insisted on being in the kitchen with him that night, this never would have happened in the first place.

Vox was right about one thing, at least: there was absolutely no way Alastor would let Angel kill him, angelic weaponry or not.

But there was something about which Vox was very, very wrong.

Alastor won’t come after me.

Why would he? He’ll know it’s a trap. He’s smarter than that.

He won’t come.

Please, Alastor. Please. Just leave me here.

•••

The hotel lobby was dead silent. Most everyone was staring at Alastor, waiting for a reaction, while Alastor was staring at Blitzø like he had just spontaneously sprouted a second head.

Blitzø, for his part, didn’t really seem to care all that much if the overlord was mad or not. Millie could hear Moxxie hyperventilating beside her, though, because of course Moxxie cared just… so much. She shushed him gently while trying not to draw too much attention, taking his hand in her own.

“…who the fuck are you?” Alastor asked. Blitzø lowered his hand, studying the sinner in front of him, and Millie did the same, getting past her awe at being this close to the Radio Demon to actually take in just how pissed he looked. Larger antlers than usual. Black sclera. Blood coming from the corner of his lips. Voice coming through a mouth that wasn’t opening.

Damn, you’d think that’d even shut Blitzø up, but of course not.

“Blitzø. The O is silent,” Blitzø said, and predictably, the other hotel people exchanged the looks that clearly communicated ‘blitz doesn’t have an O in it, what the fuck’. “I kidnapped your boyfriend.”

Moxxie’s gasp was so visceral Millie could feel it through her arm, and she tightened her grip on his hand, hissing at Blitzø, “The fuck’re you doin’?”

Alastor tilted his head so quickly that his neck cracked, ignoring the rest of them. “Is. That. So?”

“Yeah. Chill the fuck out,” Blitzø said, holding up one hand. Alastor narrowed his eyes, and Millie could hear radio static that somehow managed to sound puzzled.

Moxxie stepped forward, but didn’t let go of Millie’s hand. “Sir you can’t talk to an overlord like that!”

“Weird, pretty sure I just did—!” Blitzø made a noise that was somewhere between a not-a-word vocalization, a curse, and a gag as Alastor vanished into the floor only to reappear in front of their boss the next second, holding him off the ground by the front of his coat. “Ah, fuck, you didn’t like that didja buddy,” Blitzø managed. “Moxxie don’t throw out my—!!”

Alastor and Blitzø disappeared into the floor, leaving behind the heavy weight of the overlord’s fear aura. Silence descended over the room, before one of the sinners (Millie thought her name was Niffty) asked, “Don’t throw out his what?”

Moxxie groaned and put his face in his hands. “Probably his horse smut,” Loona said from where she still stood, leaning against the wall next to the door. “He’s got it organized.”

“I— I’m sorry,” Princess Charlotte said, taking a couple of steps forward. “Who, exactly, are you? And what do you know about Angel?”

Millie huffed out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her eye. “…dammit, Blitzø,” she muttered under her breath. This was going to be a very long, very awkward conversation.

•

Blitzø was suddenly expelled from a vacuum of sound and darkness and into… more darkness, but of the less oppressive and cloying variety. His shoulder slammed against a cold stone floor, and he tucked himself into a ball, rolling what felt like twenty feet before he smacked against a wall and came to an abrupt stop.

“Motherfucker,” he cursed as he unfolded himself, placing his hands on the floor to shove his weight back onto his feet. Blitzø’s breath came hard and sharp as he looked around slowly, but even with his dark vision it was difficult to see anything. It looked like a basement of some kind. Maybe a dungeon? “Kinky,” he muttered under his breath.

Blitzø slowly walked forward, taking stock of his new situation. It was definitely a dungeon, with the smell of filth and blood and death surrounding him, but he couldn’t find any other bodies.

Well, they do say he’s a cannibal.

“Okay, look, I know you’re pissed off,” Blitzø said into the darkness, trying to put off the lingering dread that his insides were about to be on his outsides and hopeful that Alastor could hear him.

“Oh, no,” a voice that sounded like Alastor’s but much too artificial—radio filter?—answered him from everywhere and nowhere all at once. “You have no idea how angry I am. You are merely very, very fortunate that I did not have to track you down. The fact that you sought me out is enough to stay my hand long enough to ask what, precisely, it is that you think you’re doing here.”

Blitzø nodded, trying and failing to pinpoint the source of the voice. It sounded like it was moving around him. “I’m here to tell you exactly what I know on the condition that you don’t immediately tear me and my employees into tiny pieces.”

“That will greatly depend on what you tell me, little one. If you want to survive this, you had better hope it’s worth my time.”

Fucking fantastic.

“Right. Okay. Fine,” Blitzø said, holding his hands up. “We’re I.M.P. We were hired by Velvette for a job with the Vees, and they offered to pay enough that I didn’t really care it wasn’t an assassination. Initially, Vox wanted us to follow you and Angel Dust around whenever you left the hotel and get pictures of the two of you together.”

Alastor laughed. It was high and mildly deranged, but it also seemed genuinely amused. “And I never noticed you. I’m almost impressed.”

Blitzø bit his tongue to keep a sarcastic response from pouring out of him immediately. “We got the pictures. I’m assuming you’ve seen them. I took them to Vox, and he informed me that he was extending our contract and didn’t give us much of a choice. He wanted us to drug Angel Dust and take him to VoxTek if the two of you… didn’t break your bond.”

There was something oddly contemplative in the silence, but Alastor didn’t answer.

“…so we did. Which I guess you already know. As soon as the contract was complete, we left, and Vox tried to have us killed, which you also saw.”

“And why, exactly, did you come here?”

“I dunno, because I feel like shit about all of this and I planned to come here ever since my employees threw a bitch fit over the contract because they’re a gross married couple and freaked the fuck out over the idea of breaking up a couple? Because I’m not a fucking kidnapper and it pisses me off that the overlord of forced obsolescence threatened my people with functional slavery if we didn’t do it? Because I don’t think Angel Dust deserves to be tortured because he was stupid and fell in love with someone?”

If the last silence was contemplative, this one was heavy. Shocked, maybe? But why would Alastor be— oh.

Blitzø raised an eyebrow at no one, looking around again. “Oh, come on, bro. Even I could tell.”

The ground suddenly dropped out from under him, and Blitzø barely had time to gasp out a ‘fuck’ of protest before it suddenly got a whole lot brighter and he landed on something very soft. Wincing, he raised his arm and shielded his face, slowly opening his eyes to attempt to give them the chance to adjust to the abrupt change. It was very red, was his first determination, and it only took a moment for him to register he was in some kind of… bedroom? Was it a bedroom? There was a broken desk a short distance from him, a bed further away, and…

“That’s a whole ass bayou,” Blitzø muttered.

“That it is.”

Blitzø refocused directly in front of him, and he saw Alastor, sitting in a high-backed armchair a short distance away. It was only then that he realized he was also sitting in a chair that appeared to match, and they were in front of a fireplace that was emitting green light with no fire. Blitzø looked at the chair, patted the arm a couple of times, and then looked back to Alastor. “Neat trick.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes, his smile sharpening. He had, at least, returned to what appeared to be a more calm state (for him), since he no longer looked ready to unhinge his jaw and— Blitzø wasn’t gonna continue that thought. The Radio Demon slowly tilted his head. “Explain.”

“…uh. You mean—?”

“You said you planned to come here ever since an altercation with your employees. Explain.”

Blitzø sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “…look, my line of work is getting paid to blow up asshole humans for sinners who can’t get revenge themselves. I have less than zero interest in whatever interpersonal bullshit you overlords have, and yeah, it pissed me off when I fully realized that the Vees were using us because they have some kind of petty quarrel with the two of you and literally nothing else. Besides, I kinda fucking hate all three of them at this point.”

Alastor sat back. “Anyone who wishes to backstab Vox deserves to be heard, I think. But if you know that I already know where Angel is, why did you come here?”

Blitzø frowned. “…two things. One is a warning, and one is an offer.” Alastor didn’t interrupt, so he continued, “Vox gave us six syringes full of a liquid that looked a lot like the smoke from Valentino’s cigarettes. He was very adamant that we use all six, and that we had to inject them where his arms met his back. I don’t know what was in them, but it prevented him from using his arms before he was knocked out. And… after Vox gave me those and dismissed me, I kind of… hung around a little?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “You spied on the Vees?” By the tone of his voice, Blitzø figured Alastor had decided that he would have liked the imp if it wasn’t for the whole kidnapping thing.

Blitzø shrugged. “…the Vees were kind of non-specific, but from what I got, I think they’re going to use Angel Dust’s contract to compel him to try and kill you.”

Alastor looked away, thinking. “I imagine Vox is hopeful that I will kill Angel instead,” he said.

“He didn’t say as much, but that sounds right.”

“Hm.” Alastor was silent for a long moment. “You said you had an offer,” he said finally. “What, precisely, would that be?”

This was where it was getting complicated… as well as not being anything close to a guarantee. “As long as Angel Dust is under contract, he doesn’t have a choice in obeying Valentino, right?” Blitzø asked. Alastor nodded, the skin at the corners of his eyes tightening. Blitzø recognized that look. “Thought so. …if you can find a way to get me a copy of his contract, I have someone I want to show it to.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at him. “…oh? Who, and why, exactly?”

Blitzø resisted the urge to close his eyes, unable to believe he was about to suggest this. “Prince Stolas of the Goetia,” he said. “He’s an expert with soul legality and contracts. If anyone could find a way to get your boyfriend out of a contract? It would be him.”

•••

“So… let me see if I have this right. The four of you are from I.M.P. You were hired by the Vees to stalk Alastor and Angel, and then were told to kidnap Angel and take him to VoxTek.”

“Right.”

“And then… they tried to kill you, and now you’re here… why, exactly?”

“We dunno, Blitzø was the one doin’ the drivin’. We were mostly concerned with th’ sinners that jumped onta the van when we tried to run.”

Vaggie frowned, folding her arms and staring at the imps across from her. They had introduced themselves as Millie and Moxxie—the hellhound was apparently Loona, not that she was saying a whole lot—before giving them the basic rundown of their situation. And, since there was no telling how long Alastor would be gone with their boss (hopefully not killing him but who really knew at this point), Charlie had insisted that everyone sit down in the lobby and talk, which was what they were doing.

Well, most of them, anyway. Niffty had moved the incapacitated sinner out of the lobby through the front door, and was currently scrubbing at the bloodstains in the carpet with an alarming amount of enthusiasm. And even though Charlie had declared they should sit, she had spent most of the time pacing and just listening.

Vaggie tore her eyes from her girlfriend to look at the imps again. “Well, it looks like your boss isn’t very bright if he thought his best plan was to break in and just tell Alastor he kidnapped Angel.”

Moxxie frowned at her. “Just because you don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s a bad plan.”

“Oh, I get it,” Vaggie said. “…look, why don’t the three of you just hang out for a bit? Alastor has to come out eventually, either with your boss or not.” She got to her feet as the two imps started muttering together, but she ignored them, instead crossing to Charlie. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

Charlie bit her lip, glancing away.

The moment Vaggie saw that look, she took Charlie by the hand. “Okay. Come here.” She pulled the other woman to the other side of the room, where she could still keep her eye on their ‘guests’ but not risk being overheard too easily. “Come on. Talk to me.”

Charlie wrapped her arms around herself. “…I fucked up again.”

Vaggie frowned. “What?”

“I fucked up again,” Charlie repeated, her smile achingly sad. “I— dammit, I should have talked to you first, but I…” She drew a deep breath. “…I talked to Vox about Alastor and Angel. I asked him for lenience where Angel was concerned. And I… I think it’s my fault that this happened.”

“Whoa,” Vaggie said quickly. “Whoa, hold on, no. No, it’s not your fault— what could you possibly have said to make this your fault?”

“I told Vox that they didn’t want to break their bond.” Charlie winced when Vaggie slowly raised one hand to her temple. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have done that, but I thought— I thought it was all Valentino! Vox always seemed so… so reasonable! I mean, yeah, Al hated him, but Al hates everybody.”

Vaggie could sense her face expressing all of the sympathy she was currently feeling for Charlie. On the one hand… Vox was an overlord, and trusting overlords was universally a bad idea. But, on the other, one of the reasons she loved Charlie was her willingness to give others the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Vaggie understood what it was like to fall for the charisma of a blatantly terrible person.

After all, she had once willingly followed Adam.

“Okay… babe, first off, this isn’t your fault,” Vaggie said, taking hold of Charlie’s shoulders and forcing eye contact. “Yes. It was dumb. But whatever Vox and the other Vees did after you talked to him is their fault, not yours.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “…I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Even— even if it’s not my fault, I still feel responsible, y’know?”

“I know.” Vaggie rubbed Charlie’s upper arms. “We’ll come up with something.”

She was just about to suggest that they head back and Charlie try to talk to the others when Vaggie sensed something… off. She barely had time to grab Charlie and dive towards the middle of the room before the same wall that had been blown up and repaired at least six times (counting the old hotel) blew up again, sending a rain of debris and rock across the lobby carpet.

“My carpet!” Niffty yelled over Moxxie’s scream and the sounds of both him and Millie scrambling for cover.

Vaggie coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to dispel the dust. This was getting absolutely ridiculous, and she was about to say so, when she heard footsteps crunching loudly through the debris.

“Where the fuck is he?!”

Oh, shit. Cherri.

Vaggie got to her feet and pulled Charlie up as Cherri Bomb stomped into the lobby through the hole she made, looking like she was mere seconds away from blowing up herself. Charlie spoke the moment she could without inhaling dust. “Angel? He’s at—!”

“No,” Cherri snapped. “Alastor. Where the fuck is Alastor?!”

“He didn’t do it.”

Cherri turned with a soft growl as Husk approached, stopping a good ten feet away from her; smart, Vaggie thought, even if it probably wouldn’t help in the long run. Cherri glared at him, clenching her hands into fists slowly.

Husk didn’t move, and his face was set into its usual tired sort of apathy. “Alastor didn’t hurt Angel,” he said. “You know that.”

“Do you think I give a shit that he wasn’t the one who ripped him up personally? Like with his own hands?” Cherri asked, one hand on her hip as she leaned forward at Husk. “This is his fuckin’ fault, and I want to know where the bitch is.”

Husk released a long sigh, reaching up to adjust his hat. He then walked past Cherri, heading for the bar.

She turned to him, raising her eyebrow. “…are you daydrinking?”

“Not at the moment. You’re daydrinking.” She didn’t move, and he reached down beneath the bar, withdrawing something and throwing it at her. “He’ll be out soon and you can scream at him then, he’s bound to have heard you. Will you just sit down?”

Cherri caught the object—a whole lime, apparently—and tossed it up and down like she was contemplating flinging it back at him like a grenade. Finally, she gritted her teeth, stomping over to the bar and hopping onto a bar stool. She didn’t say anything when Husk slid her a drink, busy peeling the lime and biting into the fruit like she wished she was doing it to Alastor’s still-beating heart.

Vaggie looked at Charlie. “You good?”

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Vaggie helped Niffty clean up the debris—both Millie and Moxxie helped as well, probably because they were clearly still feeling guilty and for want of anything else to do—but Husk was right in his prediction. Alastor returned less than ten minutes later, treating everyone to the unusual sight of him actually walking into a room. And, not only did he look much calmer, Blitzø was walking with him and, somehow, appeared to be in one piece.

“So very sorry for that interruption,” Alastor said, waving his hand in that careless way that signaled he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. “This delightful fellow and I merely had a few details to iron out.”

Vaggie squinted at him. “Delightful— we thought you were going to kill him.”

“I was!” Alastor said. “But I didn’t, and for that, you are quite welcome,” he added, directing the words not to Blitzø, but to the rest of I.M.P.

Cherri downed her drink and slammed it onto the bar. “Oi, strawberry pimp,” she called across the room. Alastor made that weird static noise, turning his head to squint at her. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow those pearly yellows out of that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

Alastor laughed. “Why, my dear, I would think your inevitable demise would be incentive enough.”

“Oh, bitch, you are asking for it.”

Charlie ran between them and held her hands out. “Please not in the hotel!!”

Alastor shrugged. “As Miss Charlie says. To the matter at hand, Blitzø and I have come to an agreement.”

Charlie blinked. “You have?”

“Sir, what did you do??”

“Benzos, Moxx, for fuck’s sake,” Blitzø said, waving the other imp down. “I have something of a plan, but we need someone with infiltration skills. Not the three of you,” he said immediately, pointing at his employees, “because the three of you are as stealthy as panicked ferrets on an ice rink. And not any of you,” he added to Vaggie and the other hotel members, “because I’ve been watching you and… I really shouldn’t have to say more than that.”

Vaggie glared at him. “Why?”

Blitzø sighed, placing his hands palm together and looking at her like she was slow. “We need someone to break into VoxTek, and it can’t be anybody they’re anticipating. They’ll be looking for all of you, and they’re going to know we’re not dead soon enough.”

After a brief silence, Cherri spoke up. “…I might know someone. What d’you need an infiltrator for?”

“A copy of Angel Dust’s contract,” Blitzø said. “The only ones in existence should be with Valentino’s shit, and I need it.”

Millie and Moxxie exchanged looks. “…okay,” Millie said. “But… why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Blitzø looked at Cherri. “Can you hook me up?”

“Gimme a second,” Cherri muttered, pulling out her phone and calling someone. Other people turned to each other, but Vaggie focused on Cherri, watching her as she slumped onto the bar.

Vaggie couldn’t help noticing that Husk was watching her, too, as he poured a glass of water for her.

“…it’s Cherri. Hey. …Yeah, you heard? …No. He’s here. …Uh-huh. No, I know that. Why the fuck d’you think I’m calling you? …Not exactly. We’re looking for someone to break into VoxTek and steal something. …Yeah. It is. …His contract. …I thought you would. …No, bitch, I won’t tell him. But— what?” Cherri snorted, then laughed a little. “Yeah. Okay. …This evening? Sure, I doubt he’ll complain if he knows what’s good for his old-timey ass. …I know where it is, yeah. I’ll tell him. …Thanks.”

Cherri hung up and then slid off the bar stool, walking up to Alastor and Blitzø. Blitzø raised his eyebrow at her. “So?”

“Oh, I have someone who’s willing enough,” Cherri said with a shrug, staring right at Alastor. “He just has one condition.”

Alastor squinted. “…and that would be?” The next moment, he leaned backwards and went cross-eyed as Cherri thrust her finger into his face.

When he didn’t retaliate, her smirk widened. “He wants you to ask him.”

•••

[fleshgerm]

7000 Word RadioDust Sickfic!

His eyes widened, slightly astonished at the request. Accidentally letting a spark of irritation slip as he asked. "What? Why me? Why aren't one of you two able to do it?" "Because he's your boyfriend?" Vaggie snapped with a raised eyebrow, "Also we're both girls, we can't take him in there." Letting out a long sigh, he shook his head. Not entirely thrilled with the situation at hand, shooting Vaggie a silent look which screamed, "I can't believe you're making me do this." - Or: Everyone decides to have a Holiday in the Human World, It's a shame the only way to get there is by train.

[felice-jaganshi]

Strawberry Scented Love

Radiodust Strawberry Pimp AU

Chapter 7 - Courage and Cowardice

Angel tucked Alastor into his bed, smiling at his sleep form. He then realized what he was doing and shook his head, “Agh, stop that ya dummy…” Fat Nuggets then nuzzled his ankle. Angel smiled and scooped him up in his lower arms, “Not you, baby, you're fine. I'm the dummy.” He then went to the mirror and started to take off his make up.

“Come on Angel, he's a fuckin overlord. You already did this song and dance, no repeat performances!” He got up from his vanity and made his way to his doorway, “If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that…” He shut his door, standing in the hall. “No man is worth the aggravation. It's ancient history, been there done that!”

Another voice came from his otherside, singing at him, “He'sss the earth and heaven to you!” It was Pentious! He and Nifty were flanking him as he tried to walk away.

Nifty popped out behind him suddenly, “Who ya think you're kidding!?” Angel yelped and jumped, holding Nugs even closer. “What th- Nif!”

“Try to keep it hidden, Angel we can see right through you! Boy you can't conceal it, we know how you're feeling, who you're thinking of.”

Angel growled and turned around, sweeping an arm dramatically. “NO CHANCE! No way! I won't say it no, no!” 

Pen put a hand on his shoulder, “You ssswoon, you sssigh, why deny it?”

He shoved Pen's hand off him, blushing, “It's too cliche! I won't say I'm in love!” He marched down the hall, and they both looked sad at each other before following him to the lobby. 

“I thought my heart had learned its lesson…” He looked at the bar where they'd been enjoying eachothers company just a bit ago. “It feels so good when ya start out.” Tears welled up in his eyes, “My head is screaming ‘Get a grip, man!’ unless you're dying to cry your heart out!”

 

Suddenly the front door was kicked open and a pissed looking Cherri marched in.

“You keep on denying who you are and how ya feelin’, but baby I'm not buyin’, hun I saw ya hit the ceiling!” She took both his shoulders in her hands, “Face it like a grown up, when ya gonna own up that ya got it bad?!”

He pushed her arms away, “Get off my case! I won't say it!” He looked angry, but she knew better, he was just scared.

“Ange, don't be proud, it's okay, you're in love…” She smiled softly and hugged him tight. He rest his chin on her shoulder as she dragged him down to her level.

“At least out loud… I won't say it.”

 ~~~~~~~~

After an hour, Alastor woke up with a sigh looking at his surroundings and taking everything in. Angel's room? Angel's bed… Alastor's clothes?! Ok, stupid question, Angel would never. Well, he could imagine Angel being curious what he looked like underneath everything… He made that curiosity abundantly clear when he first arrived at the hotel.

“Shadow.” The second he called, it appeared next to him. “Thank you for sedating me, I was running my mouth again. For all my chastising of you, it's ironic that I'm the one who almost blew the entire thing… We'll need to be extra careful now…” He took the picture of Angel out of his jacket again and kissed it softly. “I'll show you, Beloved… that you can trust me. That I can be patient till you're ready… That I truly love you.”

 ~~~~~~

Months went by without incident, Alastor slowly but surely earning Angel's affections and trust, to the point of occasional rough housing. Like today.

Angel had Alastor's larger and usual antlers in his upper arms, trying to hold Alastor back, laughing and using his lower arms to try and swat Alastor's hands away. “No! I'm winning this time, fucker!” 

Alastor chuckled, “You're lucky we agreed no magic this round or my tentacles would have you writhing on the ground.” His tone had a hunger in it that made Angel's grip falter and his face go red. Alastor took advantage of the shock, shrinking his antlers and surging forward, knocking Angel to the ground and pinning him. He cushioned Angel's head with his own hand before he began tickling his sides.

“Gah! Ch-cheat! Haha! Fuck!” He tried to tickle him back only for Al hold two wrists in each hand, pinning his legs with his own. 

“Oh, a cheat am I? Your extra limbs would make you a cheater too, but you don't hear me crying foul.” Suddenly Angel's third pair of arms came out, startling Alastor as they began tickling him, “A-ah! Now you are a cheat!” He laughed, and tried to think of a way to fight back, but it was too late! Angel flipped their positions and Alastor was at his mercy!

“Haha! No, Darling, Beloved! Please, have mercy! Release me, demon!” He tried everything he could think of, but Angel wasn't letting up.

“Nope, promise to buy me new earrings! And a watch!”

“H-how about- haha- dinner?!”

That made Angel pause and tilt his head, “Dinner where?” 

“There's that new branch of Ozzie's that just opened up here in the pride ring. I'd like to take you there.” He had his typical grin on, but his eyes were wide and sparkling, like he had something exciting planned.

“You buyin?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course! I'm the one asking you out.” He let go of the arms on Angel's left side to place the hand instead on his waist, as he'd become comfortable doing lately. “It would only be polite.”

“Such a gentleman ta little ol’ me? Well, how could I say no.” He smiled and sat up before moving off of Alastor. “I just gotta cancel on a client then, I'll tell him my big boss needs me for an important business meeting .” He winked and gave Alastor a kissy face before pulling out his phone and typing away. He didn't see Alastor's tail flickering away excitedly…

 ~~~~~~~

Alastor dressed in a black suit with a burgundy undershirt and a matching tie, his hair was partially tied back in a ponytail. He waited for Angel at the entrance to the hotel. Charlie noticed and came over, “Wow Al! You look amazing! Why the new suit?”

“Ah, hello dear! Just waiting for Angel, I'm taking him out to that new fancy restaurant that opened up.” He smiled brightly the entire time he spoke, and Charlie couldn't help but gasp!

“Oh my god, on a date?!” Her eyes were sparkling, and he chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“Shh, it's a secret dear. He doesn't know it yet. I'm going to ask him to go steady with me tonight, you will wish me luck, won't you?”

She squealed, “Of course! Oh I hope he says yes! You two would be so cute together!” Alastor suddenly looked at the staircase, ears perking up. Charlie looked over to see what caught his attention. “Oh… wow.”

Angel was descending the stairs, dressed in a deep ruby suit. He made his way down to mee Alastor and smiled, “What, no flowers?” 

Alastor blushed, “Ah, I thought they'd be a bit too cliche. But I did get you a new set of earrings, like you asked for this morning. I know you were just playing, but I couldn't help but think of you when I saw them.” He opened a jewelry box and showed him a pair of ruby earrings that perfectly matched the suit. 

“Damn, Smiles… You really know how to treat a man…” He accepted the earrings and put them on. “How do I look?” He tilted his head to the side.

Alastor took one of his hands, “You don't know? Why, you're the epitome of beauty, my dear. A true Venus in Red this evening.”

Charlie gushed off to the side and Angel looked over, “Hey princess, what's up?”

“I've never seen you dress so masculine Angel! It looks nice.” She tried to hide the real reason for her gushing.

“Oh, yeah. I don't do it often. But I wanted to try something new today.” He smiled softly and took Al's arm, “Don't we make a cute pair?”

Charlie looked at the two fondly, “Yeah, you really do… I'm glad you found someone who treats you so well Angel, you deserve it.”

“Well, she should get going or we'll be late to our reservation.” Alastor spoke up quickly and dragged Angel outside, before Charlie could ruin the surprise.

 ~~~~~~

After the dinner, Alastor brought Angel to the roof of the hotel and played some slow music from his cane that he left off to the side, “Angel, will you dance with me?”

Angel took his hand and let himself be pulled into Alastor's embrace, “You really went all out for this, huh Smiles? Going through all the motions… you're a good friend, making a silly thing like me feel special for a night.” He smiled at Alastor with half lidded eyes. 

“You should feel special every night, Angel. Because you are.” He gave Angel the same look back, and it startled the spider.

“Y-you think so?” 

“Of course, I actually have another gift for you tonight that I hope will help you believe me… but first, I wish to ask you something important.” Alastor stopped dancing, and kneeled down before Angel, taking each of his lower hands into his own. He brought them both to his face and kissed the back of each of them once.

“A-al, what are you doing? If ya wanna ask me to sleep with ya, you don't gotta get so fancy.” Angel couldn't stop his voice from cracking, there's no way this was happening, this had to be a dream!

“Angel… I wish for you to be my Beau. My partner in all things. I love-” but before he could finish, Angel tore his hands away and took several steps backwards. His upper hands covering his mouth and his lower ones wrapping his waist. 

“St-stop, don't- don't say that. Please!”

Alastor's ears drooped and his smile faltered into a nervous line, “Angel, darling, what's wrong? Why are you… I thought…”

“What, you thought I'd be a sucker and make the same mistake twice? No, I'm sorry Al, but I'm not doing this. I can't- this is- you own my soul okay?! If shit goes south, I won't be able to leave you! I'll be trapped again.” He started sobbing and his knees were shaking. 

“But Angel, I‐” He felt his words turn bitter in his throat. “I see… I failed then. I couldn't convince you my feelings are real.” He stood and approached Angel, summoning a golden scroll into his hand. He firmly took one of Angel's hands from his mouth, horrified to see him crying. Ashamed it was because of himself. He placed the scroll in Angel's hands, and shut his fingers around it.

“Here is your present, mon amour… I give you your freedom.” He then let go of Angel and walked away, his Shadow frowning and wiping away a tear from the pink demon's cheek before following Alastor and the two melted into the darkness of the night.

[flaildoodles]

Taking a moment to say that if you haven't read this new fic by @pmastamonkmonk

Y o u a r e m i s s i n g a w h o l e l o t o f p e r f e c t i o n . . . 👌😭

[syntaxeme]

So that ‘Alastor in rut’ thing I talked about writing is available for patrons now. just uh. so we’re all aware. >_> We got 5k words of conflicted deer, flirty spider, steamy stuff, and a tiny bit of fluff toward the end. sneak peek under the cut

[laurensxox]

for the honesty hour asks, i’m gonna go with send something funny and headcanons for any hazbin ship lmao i’m up late and it’s a routine where i’m super hyper😂

Presenting... My sleep deprived self!

Lmfao, anyways, at first I thought I should just comvbine those two you know. Funny headcanons. But I couldn't think of any funny headcanons rn so I decided to just share one of my funny experiences lol

The experience is at the bottom in the cut!

P.S it's currently 6 am as I am writing this and I haven't slept yet so if some of then doesn't make any sense, I blame insomnia

Radiodust Headcanons

💋 The first time Angel found out about how Alastor sleeps (eyes open and standing up in the dark), he got a mini heart attack and screamed bloody murder. Ever since then, Angel insists that Alastor lays down with him and most of the time, Angel is the big spoon because Alastor still sleeps with his eyes open and the glow of his eyes is too bright to sleep facing him.

🎙 Alastor started seeing Angel as a potential friend when he once found him stuck on a fence (Idk what it is with deers and fences), helped him, and didn't tell anyone about it. He got teased by the spider a lot tho.

💋 Angel can't dance. He can do freelance and slow dances just fine but dances like Swing? He's a lost cause. He tried to dance Swing with Alastor once and it just ended up with their legs tangled and falling hard on the floor with Alastor's shadow just laughing hysterically at them.

I do also headcanon that Angel can dance really well and that he will probably surprise Alastor by showing him that he can dance Swing smoothly

🎙 Angel and Alastor love to do their own little musical numbers on the hotel rooftop where no one can interrupt them and have their own cheesy intimate moments where they can just dance, sing, and whisper loving messages to each other. At one point, Angel managed to convinced Alastor to sing, dance, and act out the whole "Can I Have This Dance?" scene from High School Musical 3 where he is Gabriella and Alastor is Troy.

💋 Speaking of dancing, the crew found out that they were together because they caught the two slow dancing in the ballroom and just generally being happy and sappy together

🎙I closetedly headcanon Alastor as Peryton so on special occasions or on days where they just really need to be away from everyone and just be in the wind, Alastor will manifest his wings, carry Angel, and fly around for a bit.

💋 They don't notice it but there are times when Angel and Alastor acts all parent-like with Charlie, especially when she's upset. Alastor will try to cheer her up by making goofy dad-jokes and exaggerating stories while Angel will probably either cook her favorite food or make hot chocolates. Vaggie definitely sees all of this.

🎙 After they got very comfortable in their dating status, Angel will be the 2nd person to be allowed to touch Alastor without permission. Niffty is first.

💋 Moving out? Alastor definitely manifested a Bayou in Hell and his very own cabin house in it, that's where they'll live. It's a win-win as Alastor will be in his territory where he is strongest and Angel will be away from the catcalls and people who only wants him or sees him as a sex object. Just him, Alastor, and Fat Nuggets at peace in a Cabin House in their own Bayou

🎙In any case that Alastor's mother is in Hell as well, she will definitely approve of Angel. Maybe not at first due to his background but as time goes on, she'll see how much the spider demon makes her little faon happy and eventually, she'll approve of him. Anything to keep her son happy.

Alright! Time for Allen storytime 😂

So I discovered Hazbin Hotel through a friend back in 2019 and I was in 12th grade by then! And instantly, INSTANTLY, my heart was like welp, you're simping for a serial killer overlord deer demon now, good luck! 😂

And me, itching to write, started to write little fics about Alastor already. I begun to learn these little phrases and slang from the 1920s to help me and most of them are now stuck in my head.

Why do I tell you all those? Well, here's the reason!

There was this one time when I stayed up late due to me being hyperfixated with watching and listening to as much Roaring Twenties connected videos on Youtube for as much as I could. The next morning, I fell asleep in the middle of my Religious Classes. My substitute teacher noticed and whacked me on the head with a rolled up booklet. Me, still sleepy, didn't realize it was the teacher and just blurted "Look, I'm already so behind the eight ball right now and in desperate need of some sleep so PLEASE, get out of my face before I take my imaginary bean-shooter and just bop ya right now, ya broad"

Then I fell back asleep 😂 they didn't wake me up when the bell rang so I missed lunch. I, of course, tried to apologies but the teacher forgave me. She said she actually understood the slangs and then we just spent my study hour discussing 1920s slangs.

i know it's not really that funny but I do find it funny because according to my classmates, they have never seen a sub teacher look so confused yet so impressive with someone.

[yourlocalhazbintrash]

Radiodust Prompt: Al and Angel go on a date, but try not to get recognized (So like they wear disguises or something). I hope that's a good one! Please and thank you!!

“I feel silly!”

Alastor sighs as his husband constantly fidgets with the fedora that had been placed upon his head. “Well, my apologies darling, but I would rather us not get caught and put in danger this evening!”

“I still think you’re both stupid.” Husk commented, pointing his bottle of cheap booze at the couple. “Why not just have your date here?”

“Because, my dear Husker, it would be ungentlemanly of me to take my darling beau on a date in a place such as this!” Alastor gestured to the hotel all at once. “He deserves only the best.”

“Whilst draped in a giant fur coat.” Angel grumbled. “Sweetheart, I’m already covered from head t’ toe in fur! Don’t make me wear this!”

“What else would you like to wear then, my sweet?” Alastor tilted his head and snapped. “A robe?” He snapped again. “A fish costume?” Another snap. “Nothing at all?”

“PUT THE COAT BACK ON!” Husk screamed, using his wings to cover his eyes. Alastor cackled at the response, snapping the coat back onto Angel’s body. Angel whined, crossing his arms.

“How come your only disguise is a turtleneck and jeans?!” Angel gestured to Alastor’s attire. “Is all o’ this ‘cause I’m a whore? Go on, tell the truth!”

“Mon amour, none of this has anything to do with your profession.” Alastor assured, stepping forward and kissing Angel’s hand. “I merely want to keep you safe. If anyone were to find out that you were dating me, they would most definitely try to tell Valentino or Vox or anyone close to them. I wish not to see you hurt, even a little.”

Angel gave a fake pout, jutting his bottom lip out and whining. “What about when I come home from the studios? You never seem upset!”

“Do not lie, darling. It makes you look bad.”

“Well maybe I wanna look bad~”

“Get a room!” Husk hissed, laying his ears flat. Angel giggled at the words, turning to Al and giving a genuinely apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I know how ya feel ‘bout... that.” Angel hugged Alastor close. “But it’s still fun t’ tease ya~”

“I’m sure it is.” Alastor chuckled, hugging Angel back. “Well, it’s become quite clear that we won’t be going outside anytime soon, so... what would you like for dinner?”

“Parfait.”

“Spaghetti it is then!”

Angel laughed at Alastor’s eccentric attitude, following the deer demon into the kitchen. Cooking with his monster of a boyfriend sounded perfect right about now, and Angel would be lying if he said he preferred being anywhere other than by his beau’s side tonight.

[paper-stars-and-fireflies]

Tell me, should I let you go?

Tags: RadioDust, Trans!Angel Warnings: Drug Use, Addiction Fic was inspired by the song Sober by Bad Wolves. Listen while you read!      Angel Dust woke up in his bathtub, again. His neck hurt from being bent forward overnight, and his back and joints all ached from the cramped spaces and unnatural angles. At least the cool tile felt nice. Dizziness washed over him as he tipped his head back, trying to right his world, and soon after he was scrambling for the toilet, dry heaves wracking his frame. He spit, if just to relieve the nausea, and settled back against the wall, one arm feebly reaching for the vanity. There was a snuffling and scraping sound and all of a sudden Angel’s lap was full of pig, his pet bounding back and forth across him, desperate for attention.

    “Be easy on daddy, now,” Angel moaned, scooping up the pig and cradling him. The nausea was ebbing slightly, but not enough. He turned his head, coughing and hacking into the toilet again. Just holding Fat Nuggets felt like too much, but Angel managed to claw and stumble his way to his feet. His reflection looked worse than he felt, mascara and eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and his eyes red around the edges. His throat felt scratchy and a fresh wave of dizziness had him stumbling forward into the sink.     “Saint’s sake, am I still drunk?” he mumbled, fumbling for his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sugar and stomach acid, and it took him twice as long to get himself looking presentable, crumbled clothes aside. The dizziness and nausea had more or less left him to fester, but the lights felt too bright and a migraine had settled behind his left eye. He matched his steps to the slow pulse of his head, wobbling around his room as he unceremoniously stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts. He had no plans to go out, so he didn’t bother getting too dolled up. He checked his phone, but there were no messages, not from work, not from his family, not even from Alastor. Probably for the best, even though he was craving a few sweet words this morning. Better to lay low and not let anyone realize how he was. There were empty bottles and plastic cups, and evidence of the fun that was wreaking so much havoc on him this morning scattered around the room. He cleaned it all up, burying it in his trash so no one would find it later. He should feel ashamed, maybe, drinking, smoking, maybe even popping a pill or two, but it wasn’t such a big deal. Just a couple drinks, a smoke, a couple pills. No one had to know, and he’d been so good. They had to give him that.     This was just one of those, whaddaya call’em? Cheat days. It was just a lil treat. One time thing. He placated himself, shoving off the bits of shame and regret crawling under his skin. Angel settled into his bed, Fat Nuggets happily curled up against him, grumbling as he thumbed through the TV channels. It made his head hurt that much more, but frankly he’d take that over the silence, in the room or in his head. He scratched idly at the inside of his arm, only glancing down when he realized he’d picked at a scab. A very new one.     He swore, tearing tissues out of their box, knocking over everything else on the nightstand. Angel dabbed at the tiny wound, peering closer. It was definitely a needle mark, and not the only one. He yanked down on the sleeve of his shirt, casting furtive glances around his room. It was fine, it was okay. It would be gone in a couple hours, a day top. It was tiny. No one had to know he hadn’t just fallen off the wagon, that he’d jumped headfirst. It was fine. He just had to stay home, lay low one day, be extra careful from here on. He crouched by the bed, picking up the things he’d knocked over. A couple framed pictures of his friends, another of him and Alastor dressed up in silly Valentine’s themed costumes. They’d thrown a party back in February for his six months sober celebration. There was a lopsided stuffed deer, a prize Al had won for him at Hell’s carnival, back on one of their early dates. When Fat Nuggets had torn it up one night, Al had hushed him, stitching it up and adding a few personal touches, showing him anything could be repaired. He set everything back up neatly. No biggie. This was something else that could be fixed. No big deal. Definitely not, until there was a knock at his door.     “Angel? You okay?” Charlie’s innocent voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heaved himself onto his feet and stumbled to the door as fast as he could manage, leaning against it to hold it shut.     “Just peachy, dollface. Ya need something?” he called through the door, making sure all the locks were on. He pushed the chain lock all the way across, quieting the metal with his fingertips.     “You’re late for your check-in session, I was making sure you were up.”     “Check-in?”     “Did you forget? Today’s the 5th, you were supposed to meet me downstairs an hour ago.” Charlie’s voice was picking up a suspicious edge he didn’t like. Of course today would be a check in. How had he forgotten that? He was so careful, making sure he’d clear his appointments so he could live pretty freely under the radar.     “Sorry doll, I, uh, just over-slept. Stayed up too late….watching too many movies!” He bit at his lip, not buying his own excuses. Clearly, she wasn’t either.     “Angel, let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She insisted. Angel huffed, putting on his usual demeanor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have practice faking it.     The door swung open abruptly, revealing Angel in his t-shirt and sports shorts, a button down shirt only partially blocking out the pride pun printed on his shirt in pastel colors. The sleeves hung down to half-way down his forearms, carefully folded. Charlie studied him, suspicion and confusion warring across her face.     “Something wrong, doll? I was in the middle a somethin.” He tried to hurry her along, one arm braced against the door frame. The injured arm was tucked against his back, the elbow carefully hidden with the cuff.     “I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.” Charlie finally admitted, staring at his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the shirt looked wrong on him. Finally, she smiled, pointing at it. “I like your shirt. It’s good to cope through positive humor.” Angel glanced down. ‘The first gender’s free,’ the pink text read. ‘Too bad I needed a refund’, the white and blue text finished. He laughed with her, but it felt stuck in his throat. He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.     “So look, can we reschedule the uh, check-in, doll?” He tried to keep his voice steady, his smile wide. Charlie waved one hand, still giggling.     “Sure, sure,” she called, turning away. “I’ll see you after lunch then, my office. Bye Angel!”     Oh sugar honey. Angel bit his lip, keeping his internal screams to himself, willing himself to shut the door calmly and muffle his impending break-down in a pillow.     By two in the afternoon, Angel had scrubbed himself head to toe, made sure his makeup was flawless, perfumed, eaten, drank, anything and everything to beat back last night’s demons and act the part of the perfectly adapted, normal, and completely clean Angel Dust he’d been becoming the last eight or so months. ‘Just one quick meeting, no big deal,’ he kept reminding himself. He sauntered into Charlie’s office, plopping down into the chair opposite her desk, checking his nails to keep up his bored act. The marks on his arm were all but gone now, but there were still a few nagging symptoms of a come down he hadn’t quite chased off yet. Charlie shut the door behind him, part of her pledge to privacy, and sat across from him, separated by a massive wood desk that was definitely made for one of her parents. She just looked tiny, sitting behind it.     “Okay! So, we are… just shy of one year! How are you feeling today?” Charlie consulted her paperwork, searching around for her pen as she spoke. It was the one she’d taken from Katie Killjoy, way back at the hotel’s launch.     “Same ol’, bored as hell, but doin’ my best. Clean, nice, and well-adjusted.” Angel ticked off on his fingers, reciting the three goals Charlie pushed all of her patrons towards. She hummed, clicking the pen a few times before she began to take notes. She probed at him with the usual list of questions, asking about his recent activities, work, friends, mood, and how he was coping and feeling about each of the problems he’d mentioned in previous meetings. He could see she’d drawn his shirt in the margins. ‘Piece. Of. Cake.’ he congratulated himself, standing up and starting to excuse himself. He’d made it through the full hour without a single slip up.     “Sit back down, Angel.” Charlie scolded, setting her page down flat. She dropped the pen, eyeing the chair when he didn’t. He sighed, plunking back down.     “What’s up, boss?” He asked, arms crossed. Charlie reached over the desk, yanking his sleeve up before he could stop her.     “I knew it.” she hissed, sitting back in her chair, hands wrapped around her elbows, arms pressing flat against her ribs. “Angel, you’re not even close to clean.”     “What! That’s playing dirty! I am! Well, I was. Definitely was! I was being a super good boy, but then, I dunno, something happened, and then I guess I made a mistake last night, and then I guess, I dunno. A lot happened last night, an’ I don’t remember none of it, but I swear! I was clean until yesterday! I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t being completely truthful, he’d been sneaking drinks and hits of whatever coworkers had on hand while he was at work, but he definitely couldn’t tell her that, and he really had been cutting back… Why couldn’t he remember last night?     “Angel, you’ve come to check-ins still stoned before, just… stop.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Last night, Alastor brought you home from Val’s. You were a huge wreck. He took you upstairs, but you started screaming at us and locked yourself in your room.” She paused, looking up at him, willing him to say something, but Angel, for once, had nothing.     “Have you ever told me the truth?” Charlie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She circled the desk, opening the door with a resigned, defeated look. Angel frowned, knowing he was the cause, but not how to fix it. Getting high at work wasn’t surprising, but to get totally wrecked wasn’t right. Angel shuffled, thinking he was being dismissed, but what happened next was so much worse.     Alastor walked in, face blank and perfectly schooled into place. Charlie retook her seat, gesturing to the open chair beside Angel. Al took it, not looking at him. He just stared straight ahead, completely zoned out.     “Angel, you were already on your last warning before this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Charlie tried again. Angel opened his mouth, starting over with what he’d already tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Neither Charlie or Alastor so much as twitched as he tried spinning line after line, trying for pity, sympathy, humor, anything. When she couldn’t take anymore, Charlie shook her head, scribbling away on a sheet of paper. Angel couldn’t make out the words, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It felt like his whole head was throbbing and the room was spinning. How hot was it in here anyway? He shoved his sleeves up, already caught out. It was hard to catch his breath, he slumped forward, tempted to put his head between his knees. Were his ears ringing, or was that Al’s static?     “Angel,” Charlie said, clearly not for the first time. Concern was leaking into her voice, and he fished himself back out, sitting up, head lolling to one side. Al stayed silent, not offering a hand, a word, even a tune. He had never felt so alone in a room full of people who were supposed to care about him. So much for that.     “Angel, I have to evict you.” She said finally, sliding the page over to him. “You have to sign this.”     It wasn’t possible to hold back the tears dripping down his face, and just as impossible to figure out why he couldn’t stop. Who cared about the dumb hotel. He had any number of places he could go. Molly had a spare room, if he wanted to go back to the mob. Cherri had a couch, and he’d already thrown his lot in with hers for turf wars. Hell, even Val would take him back and let him live in a studio if he did more videos. Screw the Hotel! Angel growled, throwing his things into duffel bags, ripping his posters off the wall, slamming the drawers closed after emptying them. Fat Nuggets hid under his bed, snuffling sadly, but he didn’t have it in him to apologize yet, even if the pig was innocent. Sometimes he just had to stay angry.     “I would think you wouldn’t want to destroy your own possessions, darling.” Alastor spoke softly from the open doorway, looking around slowly. Angel pouted, looking more pathetic than mad, but he didn’t care. He didn’t notice when Al had gotten there, but it didn’t matter.     “I don’t possess anything. Anything that’s mine gets broke or taken away.” He said pointedly, snatching the pictures off his nightstand. He inspected them, finally dumping them in the wastebasket by the vanity. Alastor blinked, his radio noise some garbled music that was probably supposed to calm his nerves, but they just grated on them more. Angel did his best to ignore him, storming around the room, packing away every possible hint he’d spent a moment in the room. Finally his last nerve snapped, worn thin by his unhelpful, intrusive, cold boyfriend. He snatched the deer plush off his nightstand, the last thing left unpacked, and hurled it at the Radio Demon’s chest. There was sharp feedback as it struck him, like a microphone dropping or a headset being plugged in.     “Would you just get out of here!” He screamed, voice shattering. Alastor looked passively at him, picking up the doll slowly, smoothing its short fur.     “Very well. I will wait for you in the foyer, if you prefer.” Alastor turned, still cradling the deer. “Would you prefer I take Fat Nuggets, or can you manage, love?” His trademark smile drooped, dipping into something smaller, sadder, but sincere, broken-hearted love in an instant. Angel sniffled, dragging his arm across his face. Saints’ sake, his makeup was wrecked all over again.     “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Angel choked out, grabbing for more tissues. Alastor set the doll down on the bed, coming closer. Angel let him into arm’s reach, but he wasn’t ready to be touched just yet.     “I’m waiting on you, my dear.” Alastor repeated, gesturing to Angel’s bags.     “What for? Ain’t ya done with me for bein’a a dirty wh-” Angel was cut off with a harsh look from Alastor, contempt and scorn he rarely wore. “You’re nothing of the sort. I discussed this very carefully with Charlie last night, I’m very sorry we did not make ourselves clearer.” Alastor fetched the pictures from the wastebasket and looked at them, keeping his hands busy.     “You ain’t breakin’ up wit me?” Angel asked again, eyes wide. But he was sure that Al had been so cold because…     “Never, my love. I would never abandon you over something so trivial.” Alastor set the pictures aside, finally lifted his hands, cupping the spider’s face gently. His gloved thumbs cleared away the last of his love’s tears.     “But you were so….dead?” Angel tried, sniffling again.     “I was so worried about you, darling, I was beside myself. I stayed with you all night, and spoke with Charlie once I was sure you were quite alright by yourself.”     “So Charlie is kicking me out -”     “You’ll be moving in with me, my love.” Alastor spoke softly, eyes downcast. He drew Angel in closer, pulling him to his chest. “Charlie agreed it would be better for you, but to keep it quiet. If that’s not what you want, then-”     “No! No, no no, I, Al, I want that, I just. I don’t get it.” Angel sighed, resting his weary head on Al’s shoulder, four arms wrapped loosely around him. He knew not to hold too tight, or else Al got squirrely. Al drew back, but only slightly. He pressed his forehead to Angel’s, his ears and horns tangling gently with Angel’s hair.     “Addiction is difficult, and it can only be fought with attention and support, not alone, isolated in a hotel room. I’d like to give you that, if you’ll have me.” There was hope, love, faith, and trust in Alastor’s voice, everything Angel had ever wanted, truly wanted, the things he’d tried so long to replace with the high, trying to stuff his feelings with drugs.     “I’m never going to let you go.” Angel answered, new tears prickling at his eyes.     “Let’s go home, my darling.”  

[petitprincess1]

My Roommate’s a Demonic Deer Ch1 (Day 1)

AO3 Link Summary: Don’t you hate it when you accidentally summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don’t do that, so now you’re stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It’s amazing insanity! (Radiodust) Words: 1,407 No, I am not abandoning Good Evening. This was just yet another chat post that I made that I just had to make into a fic. However, this will be more like oneshots and it doesn’t, exactly, have a story/finish. It’ll end when I run out of ideas and I have quite a bit of fun ones. ~~~ The moon rose shining light into an apartment’s windows as the person within drew a circle around a star. Lit candles made the atmosphere even more eerie as the man left to grab a small steak knife from within his kitchen. He looked at the book that he carried around and gave a small chuckle, grabbing a wine glass from nearby, “This is the dumbest shit that I’ve ever done and I ain’t even drunk or high for this mess, but whatever.”

He grabbed a knife from a drawer and held his hand over the wine glass. The man groaned as he brought the sharp point of the knife close to his skin, biting his lip in readiness. He hissed through his teeth as the jagged blade stuck into his skin and he felt the warmth of his blood run down his palm, dripping into the wine glass. He moved the knife away, almost practically tossing it as he squeezed his throbbing, burning wound to allow more blood to go into the glass.

After a few more seconds, he moved his hand away and quickly grabbed a paper towel to wrap up his cut, cursing underneath his breath at the burning pain. The man wished that he had a first aid kit or even just a band aid nearby. He was too used to getting his bruises or marks cleaned up at the studio or by his friends. 

After placing so many paper towels on his hand that he’s on the tree’s FBI Most Wanted list, he brought the wine glass filled with a swallow of blood into the center of the pentagram. He mumbled to himself, “What you’re doin’ is really fuckin’ stupid, Anthony, but it seemed like a funny idea, so fuck it.”

The man, Anthony, took the book from the kitchen counter and walked back over to the pentagram, making sure that he had marked everything accordingly to what he saw in the picture. He gave a small shrug as he sat down in front of the pentagram, looked over the odd language in the book, and read the words aloud. ….And nothing happened.

Anthony looked around for the slightest of changes. You know, the usual schtick: Burnt out candles, open windows, random wind, or blood dripping down walls. Anything like that. He tried reading the words again and…again…not even the smallest of change. He sighed as he tossed the book over his shoulder, muttering in dissatisfaction, “I bet if I was high or trippin’ on acid I would see some crazy shit. Welp, the landlord’s gonna be pissed!”

The man brushed back his poofy hair with his non-wounded hand and turned to go to bed. However, the moment he took a step he heard someone clear their throat. Anthony quickly whipped around to see a brownish-greyed skinned man wearing the most amount of red that he had ever seen on a person, while also having red hair that seemed to be shaped like ears…somehow. The man spoke, sounding as if he was speaking through some shitty receiver, “My apologies for the lack of fanfare and overall spooks, I had just finished making dinner before getting so rudely interrupted! Didn’t wish to cause any damage to the roast, so I decided to drop in. Although, the look of surprise never gets old~”

Anthony noticed the golden sharp teeth of the man and wondered how he was able to speak without biting off his tongue. Not only that, but he wondered if he secretly did take some ecstasy or slammed down a bottle of cough syrup. He looked around and asked, “Um, are ya-”

“The demon that you called? Well, I’m certainly not the mailman,” The demon chuckled. He watched the, unbelievably tall, man stand up and walk up to the wine glass, picking it up and swirling the thick liquid within as if it were actually wine. Anthony wasn’t sure what he expected the demon to do with the blood, but still seeing him drink it down caused the human to shiver. He started, “Uh, I’m-”

“Anthony Dust, 28, bit of a drug and alcohol addiction, sex worker, and you may want to watch some of those freckles on that easily tearable skin of yours. I am Alastor,” the demon spoke as he gave a polite bow. Anthony blinked at him in shock and questioned, “Uh, how do you-”

“Your blood tells me all that I need to know about you. Although, I will say that it wasn’t much, most people would give a whole pint to me.”

“Are ya evah gonna let me fin-”

Al interrupted with a grin, “Probably not! Now,” he summoned a microphone cane, spinning it around between his fingers, and finished, “what have you summoned me for~?”

The demon’s eyes glowed a slight crimson as his grin grew in excitement of what the mortal may bring or tell him. Anthony stared up at the tall demon and then made a noise at remembering what he called him for. He quickly ran into his bedroom, disappeared for a few seconds, and then came running out with a sparking, smoking radio. He placed it on a table nearby and slightly moved away from the radio, staring up at a confused Alastor, who was still smiling. The demon blinked and started, “Uh…what i-”

Anthony explained, “You’re the radio demon, right? So, like, can ya fix my radio? I don’t really got the money to buy a new one or get it fixed or…I don’t know, throw it inna river and risk pollutin’ it.”

Alastor blinked at him more and said, “Uh…no, I- no. No, I don’t…I’m not called  that because I fixed radios, you moron!”

The mortal stared at him with his mouth agape and shouted, “What the hell! Why are ya called “The Radio Demon” then!? I ain’t got anythin’ else that needs fixin’! What am I supposed ta do with this thing!?”

Anthony gestured to the now flaming radio behind him, not even noticing that it was on fire. Alastor’s eyes widened, as well as his smile, and he got out from the makeshift pentagram, going over to the radio. He snapped his fingers and a bucket of water appeared over it, splashing the radio’s flames. The human got shocked at seeing him leave the pentagram and questioned, “How the fuck didja get outta there!?”

Alastor swiftly turned to him and snapped, “Because that’s not even a proper pentagram, most would use their own blood or even something mixed with holy water! What was that? Some chalk and whatever else you used!? I’m surprised it even worked!”

The fluffy haired man scoffed as he muttered, “Merda ingrata. Non c'è bisogno di essere così fottutamente maleducato. Yes, I used chalk and tape. I’m sorry that I didn’t fucking go to my local pharmacy ta get some goddamn holy wa-”

He trailed off at seeing the demon’s eyes turn into radio dials as he practically towered over him, making Anthony shrink underneath his gaze and stop talking. Alastor took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. He growled, “Could you just make a deal with me so I can leave this sheer stupidity?”

Anthony rubbed the back of his neck as he looked around and saw a few dishes that were peeking out of the sink. He suggested, “Uh, you can clean some dishes.”

Al’s eye twitched as he snarled, “Are you serious? Is that it? No one you want killed? Nothin-”

A hard knock came on a wall nearby as a voice barked, “Hey, shut the fuck up, damn faggot!”

The demon’s eyes glowed as he snapped his fingers in that direction. A few seconds of silence came before the blood-curdling screams came from the neighbor, including visceral cracking sounds and what sounded like begging. The shrieking became more gurgled after a while before it finally became silent. 

Alastor’s eyes turned back to normal and he seemed to get small dark circles underneath his eyelids. He looked down at Anthony,who stared up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates, with a tired grin and sighed, “I’m going to go eat your neighbor. We will talk about this more.”

He then suddenly disappeared and Antony was quick to lock the door, trying to pretend this didn’t just happen and ignore the terrifying growling and nauseating wet tearing sounds happening next door.

[zaebeecee]

To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 10/?

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Read on AO3

•••

Some of that promised fluff coming right at you. Also, sorry, I’m inflicting my other ships on y’all starting now, but they’ll be mostly background and you can ignore them.

Also, because I feel it needs to be stated: nothing in this chapter is meant to make you feel bad for, or sympathize with, Valentino. He is still a sinner, and so he is in a complicated situation, but most sinners are, and a complicated situation is not an excuse for evil behavior. It simply exists to further the story, as well as to highlight the fact that Val is a hypocrite.

•••

“What the actual fuck is going on in this hotel?”

Vaggie’s firm statement—which would have been basically a scream from anyone else—was out of her mouth the moment Alastor vanished from the room. Charlie watched as her girlfriend looked at the little group still gathered, the angel’s expression one of deep frustration. Nobody answered her immediately, because nobody else seemed to have any idea, either.

Dinner had been very, very weird. It had been good! It had been quite good, since both Angel and Alastor were fantastic at cooking and, since it was Angel’s recipe, there wasn’t any concern about what the… ingredients… might have been. But the mood had been weird, mostly because of the way the two sinners had been talking to each other over the course of the meal.

As soon as she had that thought, Charlie felt kind of terrible. After all, they were getting along, which was good. They were both in friendly moods. Alastor seemed like he was opening up to the idea of making friends, and that was amazing! But there was something else, something different, that she couldn’t quite identify. And now, it looked like she wasn’t the only one thinking it.

Charlie was sitting in the lounge with Vaggie, Husk, and Niffty; Alastor had been present for a few minutes, as well, but had bade them goodnight and vanished. Angel, by contrast, had gone straight to bed as soon as he was done cleaning up, which was also weird. Even if he didn’t want to hang out with any of them, he usually went out in the evening, if he could get away with it. And now, Vaggie was pacing, and that… wasn’t helping the energy.

Niffty was the first one who actually spoke in the weird silence that followed Vaggie’s questions. “Alastor and Angel are friends,” she said.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends,” Husk countered, leaning on the arm of the couch and pressing a half-full glass of ice water against his temple.

Niffty turned her head to look at him. “Alastor has Rosie.”

“Rosie doesn’t count.” Husk turned his own head just enough to return her frown. “Rosie is the exception that proves the rule.”

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Charlie asked, looking between the three of them. “I mean, yes, it… it’s a little strange, sure, but there isn’t anything wrong with it, is there?”

“You should always be worried about Alastor spending a lot of time alone with someone,” Husk said, turning his head away again.

“That isn’t even my point,” Vaggie said. “The two of them have been strange. I said as much to Angel Dust, and I know he knew what I was talking about. And I think the two of you do, too.”

Niffty tilted her head, but her expression was oddly neutral for the usually manic little sinner. “I won’t talk about it.”

“So you do know something.”

“Yes,” Niffty said, her tone not changing. “And I won’t talk about it.”

Vaggie made a noise of frustration. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not my business. It’s Alastor’s,” Niffty said with a shrug. “If he wanted you to know, he would have talked to you about it. But he didn’t. He talked to me.”

With a quiet noise of frustration, Vaggie put her face in her hands and walked a few steps away, muttering under her breath in Spanish. Charlie watched her with sympathy, but turned her attention to Niffty and Husk almost immediately. “We just want to help.”

“He doesn’t need help!” Niffty said, her expression morphing into a frown. “He knows what he’s doing!”

“No,” Husk said. “He doesn’t. Neither of them do.”

Niffty shushed him, but Charlie focused on the bartender exclusively. “Husk… what happened?”

“Don’t,” Niffty said, her voice lightly pleading.

Husk sighed. He looked at Niffty, and his expression looked sad. Complicated. “Alastor didn’t tell me shit,” he told her. “Angel did.”

Niffty didn’t look happy, but she looked away, holding her hands up like she was giving up on the situation. Husk watched her, and Charlie thought he might change his mind, but after a few moments he looked up at Charlie. “You can’t lose your shit over this. Either of you.”

“We won’t,” Charlie said, before Vaggie could get aggressive again. She reached out to her girlfriend, and when she reluctantly accepted her hand, Charlie pulled her back down to sit beside her on the couch. “We’re just worried and we want to know that nothing bad is happening.”

Husk closed his eyes and leaned his temple into the cold glass again. He looked like he had a headache. “…the kid talked to me one night about… I dunno. Two weeks ago, I guess. A little less, maybe. Didn’t want to, he made that pretty clear. It was when he locked himself up in his room that whole day. When I finally got him to get to the point, he asked me about… about soul marks.”

Charlie frowned. “He asked… …why?”

“Because Alastor, apparently, woke his up.”

Gasping softly, Charlie covered her mouth with her hand. “He what…??”

Vaggie, on the other hand, didn’t react at all. “Woke his what up?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“His— oh, right, you wouldn’t…” Charlie trailed off before she provided everyone with yet another reminder that Vaggie wasn’t actually a sinner. “It’s something that all sinners and Hellborn have. …well. Almost all,” she amended. “Nobody knows why they exist, but the best theory is that they’re another punishment that Hell created. They’re a mark that’s supposed to tell you who your soulmate is. When you meet and first touch, then your soul marks… become active, or wake up, and you know you’re meant to be together.”

“A perversion of the promise of happiness,” Husk said darkly. “Never seen it cause anything except unhappiness, myself.”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed softly. “Me too.”

Vaggie frowned. “That… that doesn’t sound very happy,” she said. “Who would want Hell telling them who they’re supposed to love?”

Charlie shrugged. “Some people think they come from Asmodeus, but Uncle Ozzie assured me it’s not one of his spells. He doesn’t know, either.”

“I see.” Vaggie paused, and Charlie could hear her thinking. “…you said almost everyone,” she added, a little hesitantly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t have one,” Charlie said with a shrug. “But I didn’t think it was that weird. My parents didn’t, either. You know, fallen angel, human cast into Hell alive, it… it made sense.” She twisted her hands together in her lap, her mind conjuring up the sounds of her parents yelling at each other in another room, and did her best to banish it. “Husk, do you know… does Alastor…?”

“Angel said so,” Husk said, watching her with a critical, suspicious eye. She immediately stilled her hands. “But I don’t know myself, no. Alastor and I don’t exactly chat about that kind of thing.”

“So what are they doing?” Vaggie asked. “I don’t believe that, out of nowhere, Angel Dust and the Radio Demon have just… decided to give in to some kind of romantically cursed fate.”

“I don’t know.” Husk looked away. “And neither do they. That’s pretty obvious. But if they’re… plotting together, or something, you’re going to have to ask them.”

Charlie nodded. The silence was thoughtful, but heavy, and the princess watched the shadows on the wall flickering in the firelight. Eventually, Niffty spoke again. “I wish Cherri hadn’t moved out.”

Husk twitched, the ice in his glass rattling, but he didn’t look at her. Charlie looked between the two of them. Cherri Bomb had moved into the hotel after the extermination and Sir Pentious’ death, but only for a short period of time. It was less than a month before she was gone again, the stated excuse being that redemption was “boring and not her thing”, but it was so abrupt that Charlie knew something had happened. Vaggie squeezed Charlie’s hand, but spoke to Niffty. “Why?”

“Because if anybody knows what Angel’s thinking, it’s her. And she would be easier to talk to than Rosie.” Niffty glanced at Husk.

The maid didn’t even open her mouth before the bartender said, “No.”

“Husk,” Niffty said, clearly frustrated.

“No, Niff,” Husk repeated more firmly, looking down at her again. “She made it pretty fucking clear she doesn’t want to talk to me, and I’m not gonna get my head blown off for trying to get her to talk about her best friend behind his back.”

Charlie frowned. “…you know her better than the rest of us do, Husk,” she said. “At least, from what I hear.”

“She did used to hang out at the bar a lot when she was here,” Vaggie added suspiciously.

“Because she drinks like alcohol is her replacement for oxygen,” Husk grumbled.

Niffty made a noise of frustration and stood up on the couch (probably only because she wasn’t wearing shoes), leaning in to Husk’s face and pointing at the door. He immediately leaned away from her, stopped by the arm of the couch from escaping, his eyes wide and his ears flicked back. “Look,” Niffty said firmly. “I don’t care if you have weird hangups, and I don’t care if you’re not a real bad boy! You’re gonna man up and you’re gonna talk to her and you’re gonna figure out how we can help Alastor and Angel!”

Husk held one hand up. “Shit, Niff, okay, fine, chill the fuck out. I’ll try to talk to her tomorrow, okay?”

Immediately, Niffty brightened. “Good!” she chirped, reaching up to pat the top of his hat before she hopped down to sit on the couch again.

“Um… thank you, Niffty, Husk,” Charlie said, smiling at them. “I guess that’s all we can do for now. We’ll keep an eye on them until we find out more.” Both Alastor and Angel were so volatile, there was no telling how they would respond to any level of probing.

It wasn’t long before they disbanded and headed off to their separate rooms. Charlie hesitated outside Angel’s door, debating knocking to see if he was okay, but she didn’t hear any sounds inside. Was he asleep? After a few seconds, she thought better of it, following after Vaggie and closing the door to their bedroom behind her.

It wasn’t until they had both dressed for bed and Charlie sat on the edge of the mattress, yawning, that Vaggie caught her hand and drew her attention. “Charlie… are you okay?”

Charlie looked at her. “I’m fine!” she said, far too brightly. It was hard not to cringe at her own tone, especially since Vaggie’s face told her that the angel could tell, too. “…why do you ask?”

“It’s… kind of obvious, babe,” Vaggie said carefully. “I know I don’t really get the whole soul mark thing, but I could tell it was getting you down. Is it because you don’t have one?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that,” Charlie said with a quiet sigh. “It was just… it was my parents,” she said, looking away.

Vaggie waited for her to expand on that, but when she didn’t, she asked, “Because they don’t have them?”

“No, it…” Charlie exhaled in a huff that ruffled her hair briefly. “They didn’t have them, no, not for a long time. …my dad doesn’t know that I know this, but… when I was little, after I had been put to bed, I heard them arguing. They didn’t really do that, ever, so I got worried, and I…”

“…you went to see what was wrong.” Vaggie smiled a little. “You haven’t changed much.”

Charlie almost giggled. “I guess not,” she said, returning the tiny smile before looking down at her lap again. “I went to their bedroom door and listened. I just wanted to make sure they were okay. And I found out my dad…” She twisted her hands in the soft silk of her pants. “…my dad manifested a soul mate mark. And my mom didn’t. And… and his wasn’t for her.” She gestured loosely and meaninglessly. “He said that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care about a mark, but for some reason she really, really did. It… I don’t think it ruined their marriage, but it sped it up, or made it worse, or… well, it didn’t help, at least. All it did was hurt them. I just don’t want to see that happen to Alastor and Angel, too. I don’t want this to hurt them.”

“Hey.” Vaggie took both of her hands in her own and made Charlie look at her, squeezing gently. “It won’t,” she said. “We won’t let anything happen to them, okay? We’ll find out what’s happening and we’ll figure it out.”

It was more complicated than that. Charlie knew that. But she knew Vaggie knew it, too, and arguing wouldn’t help. She had to believe everything was going to be okay. She had to. “Yeah,” Charlie said, giving Vaggie a smile that she didn’t feel, but she would soon. “We will.”

•••

Rage was exhausting.

It was even worse when rage was all you had to fuel yourself.

Valentino made another circuit of his room, his mind a cyclone of rage and half-formed plots with no middle part and a sickening feeling of Want that he had always associated with Angel Dust and had only grown darker, heavier… nauseating. The fact that his amorcito didn’t wear his mark was insulting enough.

But to know, beyond doubt, that he wore Alastor’s? That his beloved pet’s flesh was marred with an image bestowed by the soul of the Radio Demon?

How much am I going to have to lose to that fucking broken, psychotic little cervid? First Vox, and now…

Valentino seized a statue and threw it to the ground, where it shattered tile and burst in a cloud of stone dust. He didn’t even hear the door open, but he did hear it close.

“Val.”

Valentino tensed, his wings twitching on his back, before he looked over his shoulder. Vox was wearing his annoyed but resigned expression, his tie and hat gone, his jacket open, and everything about his demeanor suggestive of a very long day. The other overlord was watching him, and Valentino got the distinct impression that he was the current primary cause of that exhaustion.

“What the fuck do you want?” Valentino asked.

Vox’s eyebrow lowered further. “Look. I get it. You’re pissed,” he said, coming further into the room and waving away a small, lingering cloud of Val’s smoke. “But you have got to chill the fuck out about this.”

“How do you expect me to do that?!” Valentino snarled, rounding on Vox, his wings spreading outwards slightly on instinct. “How am I supposed to ignore this, Vox?!”

“Because… Angel Dust and Alastor are spending time together,” Vox said; it was phrased as a statement, but Valentino knew a question when he heard one.

Valentino forced his wings to lower, focusing on the light of Vox’s face. “…how have you not put this together yet?”

“Put what together?”

“They are soulmates, Vox!”

Valentino’s voice echoed in the sudden silence of the room. Vox’s eyes were wide as he blinked once, twice… and then his expression collapsed and he started laughing. To anyone else, it was a terrifying declaration of his mirth, but to Valentino… to Valentino, it was Vox’s disbelieving rage bursting forth in the only form it could without erupting from him as a scream. “You’re not fucking serious!” Vox cackled, his eyes flying wide as he stared at Valentino. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that Alastor has a soulmate? And that it’s your little arachnid whore?!”

Valentino narrowed his eyes, waiting for the sound of Vox’s laughter to die enough to speak over it. “I’ve seen Angel Dust’s mark many, many times. It’s a deer skull, complete with antlers. So you tell me, Vox. Angel Dust’s deer skull soul mark comes alive. He tells us that he has no relationship to break with his soul mate. And now, Angel Dust is seen alone, at a night club, dancing with the Radio Demon, who happens to be a deer. Is that the action your precious rival would take if Angel’s mark was unreciprocated? That would be very kind of him.”

Vox’s eyes were still wide, but his laughter had died down. His lip was curled just slightly, and it kept twitching, like he was fighting the urge to bare his teeth. “Val…”

Valentino knew he was pushing Vox, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Sounds more like Alastor must have a little spider somewhere on his untouchable skin. Wonder how that interaction must have gone down, don’t you, mi amore? And if Alastor has Angel Dust’s soul mark, it makes you wonder what they might be doing right now—!!”

Valentino’s voice left him as his airflow was choked off by something cold, hard, and oddly flexible. He reached up and felt what had wrapped around his throat—a cable, one of the thousands that Vox had threaded through the building and could control with what was functionally Wi-Fi but might as well have just been his mind—as it tightened and yanked him backwards until he lost his footing and hit the ground. His glasses skidded across the tile floor with a soft clatter, and Vox’s sharp heeled boots clicked ominously as he moved to stand over the supine moth.

“I told you,” Vox said, in a voice full of a strange and deadly stillness, “to calm down. You will cooperate, or I will beat you into submission.”

Valentino gritted his teeth, stilling in his struggles against the cable around his throat… but it was a different feeling, the memory of something else latched around his neck, that truly made him stop. That cold, heavy, sharp, always present, blinding electric blue…

why did I let myself give it to you

Valentino nodded, just once. Vox’s eye twitched, and the cable released him, allowing him to gasp air back into his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, pushing two of his hands against the floor to keep himself up.

He could feel Vox staring at him, but soon, the other overlord turned on his heel and began slowly pacing a short distance back and forth. “Let’s say you’re right,” Vox said. “Angel Dust is well aware of his deadline, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Valentino rasped. He didn’t push himself to his feet. There were times that he could test Vox. There were times that he was even Vox’s equal. This, very clearly, was not one of those times.

“…well,” Vox said, thoughtful. “More than likely, Alastor will take care of breaking the bond for us. Not by killing him,” he said, when Valentino moved to protest, “simply by being himself. I know Alastor. He destroys everything he touches. He can’t help himself.”

Valentino swallowed past the rage in his throat. “…and if he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, and if Angel Dust fails, then you will simply keep him here.”

Vox cast him a look, and Valentino knew he could stand up, getting to his feet. “Keep him here?”

“If Angel Dust fails to break the bond by his deadline…” Vox placed Valentino’s glasses in the moth’s hand, slowly folding Valentino’s fingers over them. “We will retrieve him. We have assassins on retainer, I’m sure they will be able to handle him if they catch him off guard. And then, you simply won’t let him leave.”

Valentino didn’t know what Vox was planning. It was something—Vox never proposed a plan if he didn’t have seven other unspoken reasons that he wanted it done—and it probably had to do with Alastor, because when it came to Vox… it almost always had to do with Alastor.

Valentino thought about the arch of his own foot, where he bore those strange lines that he hadn’t understood until he’d seen them on one of Vox’s electrical blueprints. When he’d asked, Vox had been in a patient mood, and had described them as the electrical symbols that represented a battery of three cells and variable resistance.

He didn’t tell Vox why he asked, but he still wondered if Vox had an antlered deer somewhere on his skin, too. He wondered, but he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to know.

Vox was pacing again, and Valentino delicately cleaned his glasses, replacing them. “He won’t be happy,” he said. “Mi amorcito is very vocal about his freedoms, and the princessa seems to think she can exert her authority over us. Are you prepared to deal with that?”

“We will be,” Vox said. He walked up to Valentino and placed his hands on the taller sinner’s shoulders, smiling up at him as he squeezed. “Whether they break the bond or not, it won’t matter. We will take care of it is they don’t, and either way, we will make sure Angel Dust never leaves your side again, if that’s what you want.”

Valentino nodded once, resisting the temptation to bare his teeth again. “I still want to kill Alastor.”

Vox tightened his grip for just a second. “You let me handle Alastor. Don’t worry,” he added, slipping back into that voice that Velvette called his ‘placating Val’ voice. “I promise you, you’ll get all the violent revenge on Alastor you could possibly want.”

Valentino smirked. “You’re so good at talking dirty to me, baby.”

Vox laughed softly, his voice crackling with electricity. “I’ll make your wait worth it, my little white witch. I promise. And I always keep my promises, don’t I?”

“…yes, Voxxy. Always.”

•••

The next couple of days were some of the most surreal in Angel Dust’s life. He was technically still in a recovery period after his last filming session, which meant some time to himself that he was supposed to use for recuperation. It was the only thing he’d ever been grateful to Vox for… well, that, and everything else that he was granted in the name of ‘the image’. It didn’t matter why Angel had the days off, of course, because it meant no VoxTek, no shoots, and (most importantly) no Valentino.

Usually, Angel spent these days doing anything except resting, usually getting out, going to clubs, getting his hands on drugs he wasn’t supposed to have, and staying out all night. Usually. But the night after Alastor showed Angel his radio tower, the spider woke up at a reasonable time, and even though it wasn’t quite noon yet… he felt good.

Angel touched his lips, remembering the warmth of Alastor pressed against him what felt like only minutes ago. The weight of his brow against Angel’s own, the sharp touch of his claws that could have gutted him but only gently grazed his skin, the anxious flutter of his breath as he tried to keep his murderous impulses under control…

…yeah. The fact that Angel thought Alastor controlling his murderous impulses was sweet… that was concerning. So was the fact that Alastor still smelled like death and blood, and it had been almost overpowering so close, but Angel hadn’t cared. Maybe he hadn’t even minded.

“Nuggs, I think I’m nuts.”

Angel rolled out of bed, dressed, and had just stepped into the hallway with a mind towards finding some breakfast or something when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Angel turned on his heel and saw a shadow disappear around a corner, and he couldn’t control the smile that practically burst onto his face at just that little glimpse.

“I saw you,” he said in a teasing voice, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a few steps towards the corner. “Why’re you hiding from me, big boy?”

Alastor’s shadow peeked around the corner, a funny image since it was plastered to the wall, and gave Angel a grin that almost looked shy. When Angel didn’t balk, the shadow came out of hiding entirely, swooping around Angel’s own shadow and sending a terrifying chill down his spine that made him giggle. It felt, somehow, like something had actually swirled around him for a moment. As though the shadow had realized that Angel was happy to see it, the form raised its hand and beckoned for Angel to follow before its smile widened and it seemed to fly down the corridor.

“Ah— wait!” Angel said, hurrying after it, but he only got halfway down the hall before a hand reached out from a small alcove and grabbed him by the wrist. He was pulled into the alcove with a sharp squeak, the force sending him into a dizzying little spin before he was suddenly pinned with his back against the wall.

“Hello, sha.”

Angel laughed breathlessly, blinking his dizziness away only to find himself looking into Alastor’s gently glowing eyes. “Holy shit, Smiles, you scared the fuck outta me. You coulda just knocked or somethin’, you know.”

“Oh, I know. This was more fun,” Alastor said with a sinister grin, tilting his head to the side. He the reset to his neutral smile as Angel laughed again. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”

“Did you send your shadow to spy or something?”

“Not… precisely.” He paused, and Angel felt one of Alastor’s claws stroke along the inside of his wrist. “…admittedly, I wasn’t sure you would want to see me right now.”

Angel snorted quietly and, clearly telegraphing his movements, he raised his higher set of arms to wrap loosely around Alastor’s shoulders. “Why wouldja think a silly thing like that?”

“Thought you might have come to your senses about last night.”

“I don’t got senses.” Angel regarded him thoughtfully. “Thought you hated being touched.”

“Oh, I do,” Alastor said brightly. “And I wouldn’t recommend initiating anything like this yourself. I’ve been told I’m a little volatile!” The sheer, absurd cheer in his voice made Angel laugh again. Alastor’s expression grew a little more subdued, but his smile was no less genuine. “…there is something… different about you, Angel. I don’t mean to be trite, but your touch… The touch of others can feel like shards of glass even through my coat, but you are… soft,” he said finally, like the word wasn’t adequate but he couldn’t come up with another one.

Angel tilted back against the wall. “This part of what you want to figure out?”

“If you’ll permit it.”

“And then what?”

Alastor tilted his head, a brief buzz of confused static filling the alcove.

Angel grinned. “I mean… what happens when you figure it out?”

“No idea!” Alastor said. “That’s the fun of it, my dear, don’t you think? I never know how I might respond from one moment to the next!”

“Hoo boy,” Angel said, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Okay, fine. But I got a couplea conditions here.”

Alastor’s eyebrow went up. “I’m listening.”

“First, you gotta tell me how you’re doin’. And I mean, whenever you think it’s important, no matter how much it changes up.”

“Fair enough. And?”

“And, if your mood changes while we’re doin’ somethin’ like this, you ain’t allowed to freak out on me. I ain’t losin’ a hand or worse just cause you suddenly decided you don’t wanna be touched anymore. Just… tell me, and I’ll back off, I promise. Kay?”

“Communication. Lovely!” Alastor chirped. “This must be that elusive consent that’s so difficult to come by down here.”

“Exactly. Easy, and then I don’t lose an arm. Or a kidney.”

“Unless you consent to that.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me with a good time.”

Alastor smiled at that, hesitated, and then kissed Angel again.

It was very much the same as the night before, though more confident and certain. Afterwards, he released the spider and headed off through his shadows to do his work, and Angel was left to hum to himself as he practically danced down the hallway and the stairs to the kitchen.

That was all Angel needed to make up his mind about whether or not he was spending the day in the hotel. He suddenly became the most suspiciously helpful being in the hotel, giving Charlie a hand with her filing and aiding Niffty in some cleaning and organizing. He caught up on some of his knitting and a bit of reading, he did some prep work in the kitchen, and he took Nuggets out for a walk in the hotel’s small garden. All throughout the day, to the bewilderment of everyone else, he would randomly disappear as a hand snatched him into a shadowy corner to whisper to him, to kiss him, to make him laugh into his own hands to stay quiet. Then, Angel would emerge, and no one would see him reappear, just as they hadn’t seen him vanish… but they all knew he was gone.

It was exhilarating, in a way; thrilling, even though it seemed so low-stakes in the safety of the hotel, to be sneaking around under everyone else’s noses. Alastor seemed to be enjoying it, too, his smile brighter than usual as he tended to hotel business with Charlie or harassed Husk (though Angel thought he seemed more good-natured than usual even in that).

The next day was much the same, until two o’clock rolled around. Angel was curled up in a chair, counting in his head as he worked on his knitting, when Alastor’s voice just behind him made him jump.

“Hello, Angel.”

“Oh my fuck hi Alastor,” Angel said, frowning almost immediately. “Aww, you made me drop a stitch.”

“Terribly sorry, my dear,” Alastor said with a smile that didn’t look sorry at all. “I was heading out on an errand and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been shut away for nearly two days now. I thought you might like to come with me.”

“Really?” Angel asked, perking up slightly and setting his knitting down. He could fix it later. “Sure, Al, sounds good.”

Unlike the last time they left the hotel together, nobody stopped them, but Angel could feel eyes following them as they headed out again. Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, going so far as to comment as soon as they were out of earshot, “Don’t worry about them, my dear. If they have concerns, I have little doubt that they will be addressing them to me before you, and I will do my level best to redirect their attention before you fall victim to yet another interrogation.”

“I appreciate that, Smiles,” Angel said as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw Cherri had texted him, opening it up. “Where we goin’?”

< “hey bitch do u no y husk called me” >

Angel raised an eyebrow at his phone as Alastor said, “Simply dropping off Charlie’s restocking order for her, nothing taxing. I thought we might take a walk after, if you were interested.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Angel said, firing off a text response.

< “Sorry, bb, aint got no idea, did he leave a message?” >

“Everything alright?” Alastor asked. He actually sounded interested.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think so,” Angel said. “Cherri said Husk called her.”

“Really…” Alastor sounded keenly interested now. “Old Husker, calling Miss Cherri Bomb. Oh, that is a very interesting tidbit of information.”

Angel looked at him. “You’d better not harass him over this—!” He jumped a little when his phone vibrated again.

< “lol fuck no he didnt, called yesterday n today, thot u mite no if smth was wrong” >

“Are those words?” Alastor asked, the sneer audible in his voice.

Angel jumped and pressed his phone into his chest fluff. “Don’t read my phone!”

“I didn’t,” Alastor said with an airy shrug and an unconvincingly innocent smile. “There was nothing to read, simply gibberish.”

Angel laughed quietly, texting back. “We come from the same era, old man, get with the times.”

“I refuse.”

< “Sorry hon, guess you gotta call him back” >

Angel pocketed his phone again and didn’t bother looking when it vibrated again, since it was probably just Cherri cursing at him. “Whaddya got against technology, anyway?”

“I find it an unnecessary distraction.”

Angel snorted. “You wouldn’t be able to figure out a smart phone to save your life.”

Alastor glanced at him, his eyes narrowed and his smile sharp. “Of course I could. Trivial. I simply feel no need to.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I know when I am being baited, Angel Dust. I will not permit you to do it.”

“Okay, sure, be that way, big bad Radio Demon.”

Alastor made a noise that sounded like an annoyed radio, and Angel couldn’t help laughing… but that was mostly because Alastor’s smile was still one of the most genuine Angel had ever seen.

•••

If th’ boys don’t get here soon, I ain’t gonna be responsible for them missin’ shit.

Just Millie’s luck, she supposed, that she would be the one on truck duty when the alarm went off and the surveillance camera informed her, mostly because of its scrambled image, that the Radio Demon had just left the hotel. She immediately fired off messages to Moxxie, Blitzø, and Loona (if Blitzø wanted her out then he would have to nut up and talk to her himself, she wasn’t gonna exclude the girl to make his job easier) before grabbing the equipment VoxTek had provided and hurrying out of the van.

The Radio Demon was very easy to spot, as was his companion, Angel Dust. As she followed them, Millie found herself either thinking about how cool this job was or how much better Angel Dust’s legs looked in person, both of which were not the mission. But it was the Radio Demon!

Just her luck that the one time she got an opportunity to meet him, it was through stalking him and she wasn’t actually allowed to talk to him. What a load of horseshit.

Millie kept an eye on her coworkers’ locations, but she knew she would be doing most of this herself, so she just stuck to the program as she followed the two to some kind of emporium where Alastor talked to someone behind a counter for a brief moment, and then the two left again and just started… walking around.

It wasn’t long before Millie figured out what they were doing. Casually strolling, chatting, occasionally pausing to point at something in a store… they were window shopping and going for a walk. Millie frowned to herself, wondering just what the hell made the Vees so interested in this; it looked very casual, nothing secretive or threatening, no plots being made… Why did they care so much?

From across the street and positioned behind a dumpster, Millie raised the camera that would automatically take a long series of rapid-fire pictures (necessary for Alastor, according to Vox), and she watched the two of them through the lens. They were both looking at something through a window, Angel Dust pointing, before they turned at the same time to look at each other. Millie pressed the button, and the camera began taking its pictures, just as Alastor raised his hand and brushed a stray shred of burned fabric from the pyre on the next street from Angel Dust’s hair.

Millie’s eyes widened a little and she lowered the camera, then she crouched fully behind the dumpster and looked at the screen on the back. She pulled up the previews of the images she had just took, then flipped through them to roughly the middle of the set.

They were both smiling, which seemed normal for the Radio Demon, but Millie was pretty sure this was different. Angel Dust was giggling, his cheeks pink, and Alastor’s expression… she had seen a look like that before.

She had seen it on Moxxie, the evening of their first real date, when he came to pick her up and saw her in the dress she had bought special, just for the occasion.

“You look… beautiful, Millie.”

Millie lowered the camera and stared at the ground. Suddenly, she had a very, very sick feeling about this job.

•••

Val: Makes you wonder what they’re doing RIGHT NOW

Well going by the timing they were probably making out in Alastor’s radio tower, Val

[pride-all-day]

I just had a thought. What if the angel x husk thing is gonna be like a running gag with angel acting flirty husk finding different ways to shoot him down? The thing that people seem to think that husk likes angel is that one Instagram post where he dropped off food for him. While it’s nice it doesn’t exactly scream romance. I can’t see how their relationship would work because husk just seems to be a grumpy drunk. I don’t know how many fun situations there are with this ship

I'm sorry it took me so long to answer this. Life is fucking me without consent right now.

Anyway, yeah thats what I thought too. It was just gonna become a running gag that Angel constantly flirts with Husk or anyone that looks his way really. But as we all know its just a front.

In terms of their ship dynamic being boring idk. At first glance you could say the same thing about radiodust but people are extremely creative and have come up with things for radiodust that I never would of thought of so im sure the same goes for the other ships. Like I said its just not my cup of tea.

I like to think of shipping as we're all buying different things from the same shop.

[amarynthian-fortress]

Fear Me Tenderly (Radiodust)

A Radiodust Christmas present for my friend @petitprincess1

Alastor was an expert in making people question the rules of reality. Angel Dust was an expert in remaining oblivious to Alastor's efforts. The Radio Demon would make sure to correct this little atrocity.

He would create a little wonderland of horrors as the perfect Christmas gift to his sassy spider. After all, his new broadcast needed a bit of spicy content, and what better way to acquire it, than with Angel's screams of outrage?

However, Angel Dust merely kept reading a book of erotic content, sitting casually on the sofa, not quite paying attention to the shadowy Lovecraftian abominations and ghoulish visions that Alastor had summoned around him. He lightly pushed aside a giant tentacle-covered roaring Christmas tree that was covering his reading light.

“That is some Santa Slenderman shit right there. You need a new hobby, Strawberry Man.“

Alastor manifested next to him on the sofa, eyes glowing a dark burgundy as he placed an arm around Angel's shoulder.

“Why, excuse me, dear kind fellow! Would you spare a few words for our eager audience on this fine festive day?“

“Ya got three seconds to move this damn microphone, before I shove it up your-“

“Such passionate expressions of cheap vulgarity and raw language!“

“Now see here, Fancy Pants, your little shticks and gimmicks ain't gonna work on me. Go traumatize someone else, I got important shit to do. This steamy chapter ain't gonna read itself.“

“Gosh golly, we encounter shocking revelations about your bad taste in literature. “

“I'll give ya a shocking revelation right on the head.“

Alastor's eternal smile concealed a slight snarl and curl of his upper lip, and for a split second, one could notice that his teeth had become even sharper.

Angel found himself pinned down on the sofa cushions, as Alastor's silhouette loomed above, the light of the room visibly being devoured by the darkness of his magic, until his glowing red eyes where the only visible thing of focus.

“I will teach you true fear, sooner or later. Shall we play a game?“

Angel Dust blinked at him in mild shock, as a pleasant tingle went down his spine.

“Well, mark me down as scared and horny, daddy.“

Elegant fingers lightly wrapped around his neck as a warning, and static disturbances permeated the air, causing both distorted sounds and ruptures in the very fabric of reality. Angel's breath hitched as Alastor leaned closer, whispering to him with a dark and sultry tone of voice.

“'Twas the night before Christmas, and all denizens of hell had passed out from sweet apple cider. Not a creature was stirring, none but one little spider...“

Angel gave him a suggestive smile.

“Oh, I'm stirring, alright. Ya got my undivided attention now, Strawberry Man. Come on, whisper to me about how you wish to annihilate me...“

A soft kiss on Angel's cheek, a tighter squeeze around his neck, the sweet caress of shadowy tendrils on his sides, menacing darkness swallowing his sanity more and more. Alastor's glowing eyes were all he could depend on to anchor himself.

“You're insane, Smiles.“

A clawed hand clutched at Angel's chest, as Alastor's grin became even wider, his power omnipresent in the air, red slivers of magic cutting through the deep darkness, and one could almost hear faint jazz music being played. Alastor's voice assumed a deep timbre, radio effect completely gone, and Angel could feel his heart pound in rising panic.

“Give me your fear, and let me devour your heart, mon ange. I wish to have the honour of breaking your wild untamed spirit over and over and over again. Give me a challenge, fight me, show me your rawest passion and unhinged spirit. Let me drink that nectar.“

Angel did not register his own trembling arms reaching out to Alastor, embracing him and pulling him into a deep kiss. Coherent thoughts had already disappeared long ago, and instinct prevailed.

None of them paid attention to the fact that Alastor's microphone was still in the process of live recording, but we can definitely say that the audience got a memorably terrifying broadcast that night, one that would remain carved into their minds for an excruciatingly long time.