Alastor X Reader - A Very Long Mating Season (doctor's Appointment Gone Wrong)
Alastor x Reader - A very long mating season (doctor's appointment gone wrong)
WC: 9,698
Description:
Alastor’s been acting weird for a while now, and Angel Dust calls in a friend of his, you - the only doctor in the whole pride ring - to have you take a look at him. Despite Alastor’s insistence that it’s only a bad headache, you swear on your doctor’s oath that something more is going on… (fem reader)
Warnings:
SEX, NOT scientifically accurate, me NOT a doctor, reader and Alastor boing their groins a few times so yk do what you will with that info, rut, heat, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, blood (not that much), porn with plot, not edited
“Say, what do ya think is goin’ on with Smiles these days?” Angel Dust reclines his elbows on Husk’s bar, sipping at his drink while waiting for Charlie’s response.
“Alastor? Oh no, do you think something’s wrong with him?”
Angel tries not to roll his eyes at the princess. The poor girl, going around managing hell with a heart of gold and… seemingly zero observation skills. “Yeah Alastor! He’s been acting all weird lately. Hidin’ away at his radio tower most of the day, in his room when he’s here, never comin’ down anymore to make breakfast, not responding to my pranks! Ugh, I’ve been bored as fuck here without his crazy reactions.”
Husk chuckles at that, pausing his cleaning. “Are you sure you miss that last part? I remember a certain someone almost getting killed several times over a joke.”
Angel groans at the smug grin of his companion. If the damned cat wasn’t so cute he definitely wouldn’t let him get away with all his complacent remarks.
Nifty darts out from under the bar, joining in on their discussion. Nobody bats an eye, as they were all used to the little demonness’s mannerisms by now. “Ooooh is this about Alastor? I saw him walking around and pulling at his own head earlier. He looked like he was in pain!” She giggles impishly. “Wonder what that’s all about!”
Charlie looked close to tears in worry, and without Vaggie around to help, Angel sighs, awkwardly trying to solve the tension he brought up. “Hey don’t worry ‘bout it, if you’re all noticing and it’s not just me, I know a doctor we can call up.”
“There are doctors in hell?”
Angel snorts. “Fuck, even the princess of hell herself doesn’t know it! Yea there are doctors, or at least there’s one doctor I know of for sure. I guess most of the caretakers on earth ended up in heaven.” He twiddles with the soft tufts of milky fur on his chest. “She used to patch me up after… ya know, my work with Val and all. Not sure if she’s got experience with patients like him, but I could call her up and give it a shot.” Charlie darts into a standing position, squeezing Angel in a tight hug. He pats her shoulder hesitantly, still not used to how loving the princess was. “Yes! That’s just it Angel.” Then her sparkly eyes widened even more, sparkling brightly at a vision only she could see. “Oh Angel! Helping a friend out of the kindness in your heart! You’re already getting so close to redemption, I can feel it!” She pulls away just as quickly as she leaned in, shooting two thumbs up in his direction. “I’m counting on you for this one!”
“Yea, yea.”
Angel fumbles with the smooth buttons on his phone screen, finding her number in recents - he’d just called her a few days ago when Val worked him for 2 days straight, filling his body with his sick drugs and leaving him untreated, lying cold on the studio floor.
“Hey toots? Yea, this is Angel calling.”
There’s unintelligible mumbling.
“No, it’s not for me. It’s for a… friend.”
_____________________________________________________________
You’re in your office wiping down the scarce collection of medical equipment you’ve garnered in hell. Hell’s sky casts a pomegranate glow on your figure, inflecting off the pleats in your skirt and button-up shirt. You had forgone a traditional white coat, as there was no such clothing around here.
When you first landed in hell, you quickly realized that the social hierarchy similarly mirrored that of earths. There were the wealthy and powerful sins, celebrities - flashy, big overlords - and finally, the common people, average sinners.
In the beginning, your optimism led you to think you could maybe become someone important. Why not try? You had an eternity in hell after all. Yet it didn’t take you long to realize that you didn’t have what it takes to be known. You weren’t a serial killer or a twisted psychopath in life. You didn’t have it in you to climb the social ladder like a cold-hearted politician.
You were a good-natured doctor who saved lives, who thrived on knowing you were the reason your patients could live comfortably. Your only flaw? You could say that curiosity was what killed the cat, or in this case, deer. You giggled, playing with the little bush of a tail you had. It was what guided you to persist through the long years of medical school despite the imposing student debts, unsympathetic parents and all. It was also what drove you to murder.
One, just one time.
You remember the day with crystal clarity. Your boyfriend, who had tied you up and bound you to his car, which he steered off the edge of a cliff. The hot slickness of crimson liquid coating his hairline where the windshield smashed him, the horrified pried open state of his jaw, his eyes wide and searching for nothing in particular as they stung with the salt of his blood.
The fall had miraculously loosened your ropes enough for you to wiggle out of them, hauling your scraped wrists out of the scratchy material. He begged you to help. He, who had betrayed you and planned to smuggle you away from the life you built for yourself. There was still time to call the police. His heart was beating steady and strong. You thought his body would be of better use to your research than alive.
Someone who dedicated their whole soul to saving lives, ended up in hell for taking one.
But that cruelty was a one time occurrence, and you still opted to play the good doctor in hell. You snort at the irony as you wipe down the stethoscope in your hand, then promptly set it down on the counter as your phone interrupts your reminiscent thoughts with a sudden ring.
“Hello?”
Ah, it was Angel, a regular patient. You were fond of the spider demon. He’s saying something about a friend needing help. “Of course, could you get your friend on the phone so that I can schedule an appointment?”
Nervous laughter rings on the other side of the conversation. “Uh, here’s the thing. He doesn’t know that I’m makin’ this appointment.”
“Oh?” Now you’re surprised.
“Listen this is gonna be a lot to ask for, and I already ask for too much outta you-.”
“Angel, you could never ask too much from me.”
You hear a shaky sigh. Then a pause. “A-Alright then, would it be ok if ya come over to the hotel and check him out there? He’s in some weird sorta pain, but he’s not the type to tell us.”
“Sure, I don’t see why not. When should I come over?” “It’s not emergent, as this has been goin’ on for a while and he’s still up and movin.’ How ‘bout tomorrow mornin’ 8:00 am? It’s gettin’ late and I’ve seen him like once today. I’m thinkin’ we should have the best luck tryna catch him after breakfast, when Charlie has him do a few tasks around the hotel.”
“Sounds good to me. Could I get a patient name?”
“Yea, Alastor.”
“Alriiiight.” You stretch out the word as you quickly jot down his name and time of the appointment. “And demon type?”
Angel snorts as though it was a funny question. You smile from the contagious sound of his entertainment, despite having no idea what was so hilarious. “...Demon type?”
“Sorry toots, I wasn’t laughin’ at ya. He’s a deer.”
“Oooh, a deer demon? Like me…” You jot that down too. “Take care, Angel. Let me know if you want me to give that ugly moth a sedative overdose!”
Angel laughs, and you end the call on a gleeful note despite knowing that neither of you could really do anything to the overlords. Or… perhaps you could, perhaps they were made of the same perishable flesh as any other, perhaps you were letting their status outshine their mortality. Though that’s a thought for another time.
You perch yourself on top of your working chair, clicking through your VoxTek computer to file the appointment in your weekly schedule.
Alastor. The syllables taste rich and familiar on your tongue. You swear that you’ve heard it somewhere before.
_____________________________________________________________
Alastor as in the radio demon Alastor?
It took you a second to recognize him, as you’ve only seen him a handful of times, but once you do, you’re suddenly not so confident about today’s appointment.
It takes everything in your power to sculpt your expression into a neutral one. You scan your eyes over your surroundings. Darkened green walls encapsulated a small bar that looked reminiscent of a casino slot machine. Angel Dust, your spider friend, and a sour-faced gray cat demon sat chatting at the bar, nervously glancing between one another and the tall man in red. Then there was the princess of hell, Charlie, and a white haired vertically challenged woman crowding the deer demon, waving their hands exaggeratedly as though they were trying to prove a point to him.
Their heads swing in almost unison at your arrival, and you instantly realize that they must’ve been distracting him from your arrival. Right. He didn’t even know you were coming. You swallow your nerves and make your way to the bar, skin sizzling with the phantom touch of his crimson eyes on your figure. His twisted sharp grin blurred through your peripheral vision as you focused on maintaining eye contact.
“Hey, I’m a doctor, and I’m here to-.”
“Eek! You’re here!” Before you could even offer your hand for a shake, Charlie all but sprints at you, interrupting you with a tight hug. You blink away the strands of her hair that caught in your eyes from the swirl of the motion.
“Hello, Princess Charlie.” You wave politely. This was your first time meeting any sort of royalty in hell, although she wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the strawberry-haired demon situated behind her.
“I’m so so excited to have you here and oh! Are you by chance interested in joining our hotel? My hope is for sinners to be redeemed-.”
“Charlie.” The short white-haired girl lays her hand on Charlie’s arm. “Let’s not forget what she’s here to do, babe.” She must be her girlfriend.
White-hair shortie directs her attention to you. “Vaggie, nice to meet you.” She keeps her introduction short and sweet, gently pushing at Charlie once again, reminding her to inform you of the situation.
“Right, right. So, you’re here, the best and only doctor in the entire pride ring to help our friend who’s been struggling a bit.” You keep a cordial smile plastered on your cheeks as she talks. In the back of the room, you see Angel now working at distracting Alastor from leaving. Impatience begins to tug at your heartstrings, pleading the princess to keep it short. You didn’t want to fail so soon. “...And we’re just really worried! He’s been having pains apparently, in his head. Headaches.”
You turn to look at said demon, who was still sitting atop the same bar stool, perched so stiffly that you could feel the secondhand pain of his muscles that must be aching. There’s a slight swishing of his tail, and he clutches what appeared to be his radio stick tightly with one clawed hand. Was he nervous? Your eyes sweep over the sweat beading under swept bangs, and the clenching of his teeth. Ah. It must be his “condition.”
“Alright, Princess. I can tell you all really care for your friend. Just leave the rest to me.” You squeeze her shoulder warmly, guessing that she must be fond of physical affection. She grins delightedly at you.
“Great! This is so so so good. Thank the devil! I’ll leave you to that then! Best of luck! Not that you’ll need it or anything.” You keep waving at the princess until she disappears beyond the door, watching as she spun around several times to match your waves.
You were equal parts burning with the need to get things started, and dreadful of approaching the menacing demon, who had resigned his attempts of fleeing. You walk carefully, tiptoeing as though you were advancing toward a frightened animal. Angel Dust - and the grumpy cat - look at one another, and finally dash away, after making what you assumed to be some sort of excuse to Alastor.
He doesn’t look at you at all, instead choosing to stare straight ahead with that abnormally wide strained smile of his - if not for the slight twitching of his ears, you would think he’s not even aware of your presence.
You clear your throat nervously, flexing your forearm to prevent it from trembling before holding it out for a handshake. If the rumors were correct, and you had no doubt they were, you certainly didn’t want to lose the radio demon’s respect; especially not in the first meeting.
“Hello, you’re Alastor, the radio demon aren’t you? I-It’s nice to finally meet you!” Well, you were never that good at first impressions anyway.
For a moment you think you hear him sigh, a static-filled gravely sound. Nearly imperceptible. Then he’s turning to you, reluctantly reaching his hand to yours at a snail-like pace. You try not to feel too rejected. Or feel too mocked by the seemingly ever-present grin on his face, and the clear scrutiny in his eyes.
“Likewise, my dear. It’s always a pleasant surprise to meet another deer demon in hell, given their supposed rarity. ”
You had an impression this was far from pleasant for him. Maybe he doesn’t want competition? You snort, brushing that thought away. As though a low-level sinner like you could be a threat. “Ah, right.” You playfully flick the fur of an ear, trying to lower the tension. His darkened eyes follow the motion of your hand. “I barely remember that I am a deer demon sometimes! Everything is the same as when I was human, except for the addition of some ears and a tail.”
His grin turns sharper, with the cutting flavor of something uncomfortable. “I assure you dear, you are very much not human. I can tell.”
“...Right.” You close your eyes briefly, willing yourself into a more business mindset so as to ignore how awkward the whole situation felt. “So, could I get a description of your symptoms? I know Charlie told me, but I want to hear it straight from the source.”
You smile encouragingly at him, as you often did with difficult patients while alive. And you had a feeling Alastor was every bit of that - a difficult patient.
He straightens up, losing the slight hint of ease he’d started to gain. “Well, it is like I said. I seem to be experiencing pains in my… head.” He winces a little - likely due to said head pains, you note.
“And how long have you been experiencing these pains?” You lean against the edge of the stool next to him, not quite sitting on it but not standing either.
Your ears twitch at the subtle creak in his stool. He’s shifting around again. “...Around three months.”
Your eyes widen, pushing yourself off the stool. “Three months! Why didn’t you say anything…?” You quickly shut yourself up before you could cross any boundaries, silently scolding yourself for the overt reaction.
“The pain wasn’t that bad.”
He’s lying. You narrow your eyes to warn him, you can tell.
He tries again. “...I assumed the pain would go away on its own.”
“And not get worse?”
He gives an affirmative nod. You ask him several questions after that, trying to get a quick history of his health complications during his time in hell. With each question he answers, you find yourself only getting farther from any sort of possible conclusion.
As soon as you started working as a solo doctor in hell, you learned really quickly that demons rarely suffered from the same ailments as people did above on earth, and if they did their symptoms were different. Your mind rushes through illnesses other demons had visited you for - a snake demon who couldn’t get his skin to shed properly, a cyclops demon who grew an extra eye that blocked the vision of her original eye, a volcanic demon whose lava had leaked to his internal organs and started burning him from the inside…
What about deer demons? Little was known about them, to the point where you were even unsure of your own biology.
You bring a finger to your lips, chewing on your nail while thinking of your next steps. The curiosity within you begged to think of a conclusion, or even just a premise. Nothing. You finally pull your finger away from your lips, remembering where you are. Right. There’s no need to overthink things. You haven’t even done a physical examination yet. Speaking of which…
You gesture for him to stand up, regretting the motion immediately as his gaze turns displeased; likely at your attempt to order him. “Alastor, would you lead the way to a more private space?” His ears straightened, and he looked at you defensively. Why did your words never come out right? You blush and wave your hands back and forth in denial. “N-no, not - I meant for your physical examination.”
Thankfully, he ignores your blunder. Nothing about his steady grin and lidded scarlet eyes revealed what he thought. “Right this way then.”
You timidly follow after him.
Have you gotten so rusty during your time in hell that you couldn’t even talk to a patient without turning into a blubbering mess? You’ve only been here for a decade… or two… three decades. In that time, you’ve met with all sorts of patients, from lowly sinners to more powerful overlords. He’s tall, you observe. Very tall - almost 7 feet? Over? It shouldn’t intimidate you, he was far from the tallest demon you’ve encountered.
But they didn’t tower over you. They didn’t have his same opposing presence, which unfairly dominated the entire room with its sheer power, and they certainly didn’t have… they didn’t have his…
…scent.
Your knees go soft at the same moment he comes to a sudden halt, causing you to bump your body into his. Your forehead bumps into the hard bone of his scapula, startled hands reaching out to steady yourself by gripping onto his suit. He twists his head acutely to look at you, and you flinch, preparing yourself for his notorious anger, but you are only met with discomfort in his eyes. You hurriedly distance yourself from the demon.
His jaw clenches and unclenches, and he’s looking at you as though he’s holding back from killing you right then and there. A strange, almost pleasant shiver runs through your body. You blink. What a strange response to potential danger.
Before you had time to apologize - for what, you don’t know you just feel like you’ve wronged him somehow - he masks his irritation with the same cheeriness in his smile. “And we’re here! Will my bedroom be a good enough space for your physical examination, dear?”
You swallow back the ever-growing weird feeling inside you. “Yeah, of course.”
He hums an old-fashioned tune as he walks into his room, sharp clacks of his shoes dulling down on the red carpet that covered his bedroom floor. Your curious eyes catch two red armchairs, several deer skulls hanging ominously on the walls, a large maroon bed that was so neatly made it looked to be a mere display, and the soft glow of a swamp surrounded by forest trees in the distance.
You unpack the equipment you carried with you - stethoscope, thermometer, gloves, examination light, cotton balls. You left your less earthly conventional items back in your office, as you had absolutely no idea whether they would be of use. Each new patient meant you had to study and adapt to their unique anatomical features and curses, on top of your prior anatomical knowledge.
Alastor stays silent the entire time you rummage through your materials, except for the occasional thump of his tail on the bed sheets and the consistent hum of jazz and radio static, which was periodically interrupted by sharp pops. You smile internally at the flattening of his ears; he must be really annoyed by that hyperactive tail of his huh? Personally, you were quite fond of your own. But you could see why a man like Alastor would be bothered by this.
You pull on your gloves, starting to settle into a comfortable pace. All is going well, you reassure yourself. All except for the weird musky smell from him that kept tugging unexpectedly at your insides. Better not breathe all that in. He could be contagious.
You pull out a thermometer. “Alright, I’m going to take your temperature ok…?"
He simply nods. So quiet today, especially for a man who never seemed to shut up on his infamous radio broadcast.
Just when you think he couldn’t get any rigid, you see him stop dead at your hand cupping his chin. “Open your mouth for me…” His claws tear into the bed sheets beneath, and you pat his shoulder, trying to get him to relax. His tail furiously thumps against the sheets. Oh. He doesn’t want you to touch him.
You remove your hand from his chin and manage to take his temperature, dipping the oral thermometer beneath his tongue. You could practically feel the heat emanating off his skin onto your hand. It would be surprising if he didn’t have a fever. “Since demons all have varying levels of body heat, I can only measure fevers by comparing them to your baseline temperature. I’d say you definitely have one based on your appearance alone…” You pull out your notepad. “...But I still need to record the results for future reference.”
You might as well be talking to yourself. You didn’t mind it though, given that you were trying to ignore his overbearing presence. “Now, I’m going to examine your eyes and ears.” You take out your light and gently gesture for him to look upward. At least he was complying now. Eyes seem normal, just as evil and red as a demon’s eyes should be. You move to his ears, which you didn’t even dare to touch based on the sudden cautioning glare he was shooting at you.
“Don’t worry, I won’t touch anything.” You smile non threateningly before shining the light at his ears, humming as you peeped inside. They quiver, the fur slightly brushing against the head of your examination light.
“Hmm, nothing there either…” You rummage through your bag, pulling out your stethoscope. He narrows his already lidded eyes in distaste. “I’m going to have to make some contact with it… but I’ll be fast I promise. Just tell me if you want me to pull away.”
He grits his smiling teeth, finally speaking up for the first time during the whole appointment. “You will not be coming near me with that… thing.” You’re taken aback as he suddenly stands up, brushing off his coat. A single droplet of sweat runs down his clenched jawline. “I did not require such a ridiculous examination in the first place.” He’s trying desperately to keep up his usual buoyant facade. But his frustration, at something, kept breaking through the surface. “I’ll be perfectly swell in due time! Tell the princess that these pains are nothing and it will resolve itself.”
You panic, reaching out to grasp at his lapels before you could even think about it. You’ve never had a patient leave untreated. “Wait! Alastor, I can’t just let you go like that. As a doctor, at least let me try to help!” The second you make contact with him, you watch in horror as his face twists into something truly terrifying. Crack! There’s a breaking sound, then his form twists, joints lengthening asymmetrically with frightening speed until he dwarfed you by at least an additional 3 feet. He leans down to stare you in the eye. You’re unable to look away from the morbidly glitching radio dials. “You can’t help me. Nothing you do will ever be of use to my situation. It would help me more, in fact, if you left this very instant.”
…What did he say?
Nothing you do will ever be of use to my situation.
Nothing you do will ever be good enough.
Just like they told you when you started medical school all those decades ago.
You don’t even notice that you’re crying until you’ve been standing there wordless for so long that his demonic form has slowly, inch by inch shrunken to his original self. You don’t even notice that your vision is blurry. All you felt was defeat. Humiliation, rather. Who were you to think that you could help an overlord in any way? You weren’t even qualified to be a doctor down here in hell. No one is. You just thought you’d try. That’s all.
The ball at the pit of your throat tightens until you can barely breathe from concentrating on stopping the traitorous tears salting your cheeks. Distantly, through the muffled ringing in your ears and erratic static engulfing the room, you hear a low exhale.
Could you get any more pathetic? You hold your breath when you feel a single clawed finger wiping at the stabbing fluids running down your face, each one hot and heavy with shame. You blink to clear your teary vision, and you see him looking down on you with an unreadable expression.
Apologetic? No, why would a man like him say sorry? Besides, he had nothing to be sorry for. He was correct in his reaction, you really couldn’t do anything to help. You just had to go and cry about it afterwards. Fuck. You sniffle pathetically,
He speaks softly, the dense static lessening in volume. “There’s no need to shed tears over something that is not your fault.”
It doesn’t help. You didn’t cry often, but once the tears started it was difficult to stop. He lets his hand drop to his side and moves back to his previous position on the edge of his bed.
“This isn’t something you can help me with, my dear. It’s an unpleasant condition I’ve had to suffer every year since I landed in hell, and nothing but waiting it out would help. This year just happens to be… more difficult than the others.”
“Y-You’ve… had to go through this every year?” You picture the pain he must go through, and the empathy within you instantly felt for his hardships. What type of horrible things did he do on earth to deserve this? You snort with your trembling voice at your ridiculous question. You’re in hell, dumbass. What do you think?
“Every year.”
“Well, m-maybe I can help and we just don’t know it yet. Let me try, at least?” Hope dares to grace your mind, and the tears, although still running down your face, slow to a trickle.
He hesitates. He’s going to say no, isn’t he? That’s alright, you’ll do everything in your power to research deer demon biology on your own time. “You may try.”
You blink in surprise, and your lips slowly twitch upward into a forming smile, despite the liquid sorrow still lining your eyes. In contrast to his uneasy expression, his tail thumps lightly at your grin. You find it… cute how closely the movements of his tail matched his feelings.
You pull out your stethoscope once again, attaching the tips of the headset to your ears. You glance at him for permission one more time, and he tilts his head with a disconcertingly wide grin as though to feign nonchalance. His flattened ears and tight fists however, told another story. Nonetheless, he compliantly unbuttons the top of his shirt and looks to the side, lying on his back. You smile apologetically and gently press the stethoscope to the skin of his chest.
Heartbeat… was sound. Slightly quick, likely due to current discomfort. You move the stethoscope around his chest, and you hear what sounded suspiciously like a breathy gasp. Focusing on your work, you dismiss it as a background noise. Lungs seem normal.
Your own heartbeat is starting to quicken, for a reason other than the sniffles that had dulled to an occasional disturbance during your examination. His scent. Your eyes nearly tear up again from the effort not to breathe him in from your proximity. You feel the gummy walls lining your mouth salivate, the sticky fluid pooling in the crevices of your teeth. Was this possibly a symptom? Perhaps he was contagious after all, and the illness was an airborne one. You think back to a time when you had to treat a cloud-like demon who was overly condensed with liquids; and the very next day, you found that you’ve contracted a similar ailment yourself, your entire face bloated with an excess of fluid.
Perhaps that was Alastor’s case as well?
You should’ve brought a face mask. You move the stethoscope lower to his abdomen. Digestive track… you press the diaphragm tighter against his lower abs to get a better read.
This time, the low noise that escaped his throat was almost impossible to miss. The strange feeling inside you squirms at the sound, but you clear your head of any dirty images, knowing that the radio demon was famed for not being interested in anything of that matter. Right. He’s most likely just in pain. Stay professional. You shift the stethoscope around, searching for a sound. Don’t make this moment any longer than it already is, you pray to no entity in particular.
You move further down, still not hearing a sound from his digestive tract. Was that the issue here? He’s been having a rough time because there’s issues with his digestion? Well, that would certainly explain his reluctance to admit his illness.
You’re so focused on listening that you don’t notice the gasps through gritted teeth rising in volume, relentless shifting of the demon beneath you, or the way your head, leaning ever so close to his skin in an unconscious effort to move closer to the stethoscope, was fastly approaching a forbidden area. Not even the heated gentle graze of suit fabric brushing against your chin interrupted your concentration. Neither did a strangled static-filled noise piercing the air.
It was only when you felt the sudden assault of rough cloth, covering something pulsing warm and hard, colliding into your cheek did you finally blink in surprise, dropping the bottom half of your stethoscope in your haste.
You stand up in a flurry, fluttering your lashes in disbelief as Alastor, the infamous feared radio demon overlord you only just met today, laid on his bed beneath you bucking his hips shallowly into the air where your face was a moment prior. His teeth are clenched so hard crimson black liquid drizzles over his gums and soaks the lapels of his suit. His eyes twitch along with his flattened ears, flickering and crazed, while his claws have shredded what was left of his bed sheets at this point.
“A-Alastor…?”
His voice turns into something inhuman, growls layered with the eerie buzz of static. Before you could fully process the situation, he encircles a hand around your wrist, gripping you with bruising force to land on top of him. His arms encircle you, sinking his claws into your hips. Fuck, that hurt. But… you let yourself breath in his scent at last, having let your guard down with the suddenness of his movement. The effect was immediate. It felt as though you’ve given yourself a tranquilizer, with the way your muscles seemed to suddenly fail you and you melt submissively like butter into his hold.
He tosses you onto all fours, and your elbows knock into one another as you strain to hold yourself upright. The dizzying, all-consuming fog of heat building within you and permeating each of your senses with its presence was all too foreign for you. Your mind scrambles, losing all progress of diagnostic thoughts. You wanted to pull away, to get him to calm down so you… could… talk…
That was the last of your conscious thoughts as you feel yourself slip into some sort of hypnotic bliss. He pulls your skirt to the side swiftly, pressing his hips to yours, the movement coarse and sloppy. The noise he lets out at the contact is depraved.
“Darling… I’m just going to stay here for a bit… ngh - just for a bit.”
For a moment, he simply stays still, staticky gasps breathing hot on the back of your ears. He played with your tail, which was shaking back and forth with a mind of its own. You arch your back needily, pressing into him and prompting him to growl and finally hump into your heat.
Was he saying something? You couldn’t tell with the way your brain had gone soft. An internal, animalistic voice told you to not think. Just part your legs and let the buck behind you have his way, it says. You whimper, the soft sounds slightly muffled by Alastor’s pillow - his pillow, which smells deeply, intoxicatingly, irrevocably like him. You’ve only met him today, but he was safe. The voice tells you that he’s yours, he’s going to protect you, he’s going to mate you.
He snarls into your ear at your needy whimpers, roughly jerking his hips into yours repeatedly. You whine, feeling the heat inside your abdomen crescendo into a sudden pain. You need him. You need more of him.
“A..Al…astor…hah… p-lease I need mo-re…” Your words fall apart with each thrust of his clothed cock over your soaked pussy, eyes starting to water with the frustration of not having his cock fill your aching hole.
In your heat-ridden mind, there was nothing you could think of but the insatiable need to be fucked dumb until you were filled by something. You cried in disappointment at not knowing what to ask. You try, you really do, but you can’t remember what the two of you were doing before this for the life of you. You gather enough strength in your ragdoll limbs to twist your neck at him, hand clumsily reaching for his pants.
Then he stops.
He fucking stops.
Like a spell being broken, Alastor’s movements stutter to a halt the second your finger touches his zipper. He tears himself away from you, breaths shaky as he steps backward. It takes your dumbed-down consciousness a few moments to register what was happening. Your eyelids, which have begun to stick together from the adhesive of your dried tears, pry open ungracefully.
No. No, no, no, no, no! The fire in your abdomen twisted and turned, threatening to consume you whole with its intensity. He can’t leave now. No! You whine in protest, but he’s avoiding all eye contact with you. The bare skin on your hips were damp, and you realize it must be from the sweat you now see dripping off his skin in torrents. His mouth is twisted irregularly wide, even for him, as though he were pouring his all into maintaining his composure.
“My dear, I’m afraid I lost control of myself there. I do apologize, but right now you need to leave.”
You whimper, still stupidly reaching for him. Why would you leave? He’s right there. You need him, and you can smell, with a frightening accuracy you’ve never previously noticed in yourself, the desperation rolling off him. You climb toward him needily, pawing for his well-endowed girth, still twitching and hard under the offensive cloth, begging to be freed.
“LEAVE.”
He didn’t take so kindly to your advances this time. With a single blink of an eye, you were torn away from your potential release and thrusted into the hallway, where you landed on your bottom, legs folded under one another and ears pressed against your head, staring at Alastor’s shut door with dazed eyes and unfulfilled burning in your womb.
Shit. As your mind clears and you tune into your surroundings - the red, flickering lights of the hallway and coarse texture of the rug beneath you - you think of the diagnosis that’s been right under your nose (literally) this whole time. You’ve dealt with animal patients before.
Yearly pains, usually lasting several months. Signs of fever. Changing behavior. Your heated reaction to his condition, the supposed contagiousness of it all. You’ve been blind as a deer in headlights.
Alastor was in a rut.
_____________________________________________________________
Alastor thought that he'd gotten used to his ruts. That he would be able to handle his issues himself for the rest of eternity.
It’s been nearly a century since he’s landed in hell, nearly a century since the torture began.
The first time the feeling hit him, it had been a complete shock. The feeling was foreign and intrusive; and while he had gotten used to his new height, physical animal features and sudden craving for cannibalism rather quickly, this cursed feeling was an entirely different field of issues altogether.
He’s never been interested in sexual intercourse with another. Of course he knew what desire meant, but his own sense of desire had been so low throughout his life he barely needed to even touch himself. The small, infrequent bouts of want he experienced as a human was nothing like the searing hot whip of desperation that would haunt him in hell. He found it amusing, in an unpleasant sickening way; the way he thought himself to be entirely fearless, unaffected by what usually frightened others, yet the higher ups still ended up finding the one thing that bothered him and used it to punish his dead soul.
He maintains the same grin and duties he had to attend to normally, albeit with a stiffer posture and less patient remarks. He didn’t touch himself. He had found out the hard way, during his first year, that touching himself would only increase the desire to an unbearable point and draw out the rut that much longer.
So he’d suffer through day by day, ignoring the itching in his antlers and the yearning confined in his slacks.
Unfortunately, he’s come to the realization that each year without a mate, the duration of his rut would last longer than the previous. This year had been the longest yet, and given how fast time seemed to pass when he was not in a rut, it felt as though barely any weeks had passed since his last rut. If he were being honest, perhaps five months would be a better guess than three. Still, he followed the same rule he always did: do not give into the urges by having another, or make it worse by touching himself. It was his way of maintaining some semblance of control down in the depths of hell, where he found himself chained to not only a master but these unfavorable urges of his.
Though it was easier said than done. Many times he’s found himself unable to keep his composure, excusing himself from breakfast with the others, locking himself in his radio tower for days working on scripts, killing any scum who walked his way, doing anything to distract himself from the treacherous burning in his crotch. Anything to stop the inevitable bucking of his hips into nothing as his lower half takes on a mind of its own, wretchedly trying to catch a surface, any surface, to grind on.
Just when he finally got himself under enough control to sit at the bar for a drink, his hotel friends join him. Usually this was not a disturbance, yet the way they all seemed interested only in talking to him did strike his suspicion. People never initiated conversations with him, unless it was to foolishly challenge him to a fight. Not even his supposed friends, who had grown cordial enough with him over time but still maintained a comfortable distance.
Yet here they were, taking turns talking to him as though they’ve been doing the same congenial routine since he got here. Suspicious indeed!
He smelled her before he saw her. A sweet, tantalizing scent which wriggled into his throat and squeezed, causing him to stiffen his muscles and lid his eyes. She’s a doe. He realizes this all too late as he finds her standing in the doorway, bathing in the mouth-watering scent. The sudden flash of pain in his pupils alerts his companions, but not before they too, notice the girl.
He wanted to leave then, and really he could do so if he wished. Vaggie and Angel Dust couldn’t defeat him, and Husk was under his control anyway. But the traitorous need to get more of that delectable scent wafting off her body in waves was too strong for him to ignore. He’d only stay a few minutes more, he promises himself that.
A few minutes turn into 10, and suddenly he’s all alone with her.
A doctor. How ironic! She claims to hold the cure to his miseries, all the while not knowing that she had become part of the cause. Her presence was nearly unbearable to him who’d been in a rut for so long without a mate, and Alastor had to physically force himself to sit still by digging a claw into the meat of his thigh. She doesn’t notice his dilemma, nor does she notice the subtle crossing of his legs to hide the bulge of his painfully erect member, that had started leaking profusely into his slacks.
He plays the part of a gentleman the best he could, warning her with his eyes to maintain her distance. The poor girl was nervous and self-conscious, he could feel that. Normally he’d never care, but the damned hormones that influenced his thinking during his rut told him to soothe her, to assure her that everything would be ok, as tears quiver down her face. It was disgusting, the feeling of wanting to protect another. Disgusting, but also oh so right.
He held back when she accidentally touched him in the hallway. He held back, when she leaned in uncomfortably close, checking his temperature. He held back when she turned around, revealing her twitching tail and skirt that would be so easy for him to tear away and have his way with her.
Yet he knew the unavoidable situation that would occur as soon as she had him lay down on his back, stethoscope in hand. He couldn’t help it. Each touch of her cool, gloved fingers pressing against his too-heated skin felt like the bitter promise of heaven for a soul deep in the trenches of hell.
When her face is that close to the throbbing, aching part of his lower half, there was nothing he could do as a sharp sting of pleasure shot through his brain. He bucks his hips upward, body spasming and entirely fatigued from the many decades of having denied himself his biology.
Why was he doing this again? At this point, who was he fighting against? Was he proving a point to the higher ups, letting them witness his impressive self control? Or was he torturing himself, making himself a fool by adding to the pain they already gave him?
In the midst of his dilemma, he hadn’t noticed the way he grabbed her body and threw her onto the bed, nearly humping his hips into hers. He had been pent up for so long that he couldn’t even feel the pleasure initially, because his body was so used to him denying it. But when she turns her head to him, reaching out to touch him, looking at him with hazy, needy eyes…
Yes, that snaps him out of his thoughts. He must be out of his mind. After surviving a whole century of this torture, now he was letting go of himself all because he was put in front of another deer demon?
He forgoes being courteous and removes her from his room as fast as he could, not giving the animal part of his brain a single second to change its mind.
As soon as she was out, and he made sure his door was locked, he let out a pained growl, nearly crawling away from the door. His antlers lengthened, form twisted, the more animalistic part of him cries out in anger. Anger at himself, for throwing out his only chance at relief. His cock feels nearly numb with pain, growing in need from the narrow encounter a few moments prior. Resigning to his fate, he shakily unbuckles his pants, refusing to rip them off like he truly wanted to, for the sake of the little dignity left inside him. Rationally, he knew he was about to make things worse, but his instincts fed lies to him, telling him that this would make it all better.
Before he could even begin touching his leaking cock, he heard her. More specifically, he could hear her broken whimpers through the wooden material of his door, echoing needily through his head. Her scent had grown even stronger if possible. It was mind-numbingly sweet, despite the intensity being anything but so. He must’ve sent her into a heat, he realizes.
This was going to… complicate things. Although Alastor could take care of himself, and was prepared to do so for the rest of his time in hell, he couldn’t let her - his doe - suffer from something he caused. Especially not with his current state of mind, where every molecule of his being told him to protect her. His mate.
Then he hears the unmistakable slick sound of small fingers thrusting into something wet, and his ears stand pin straight as they turn to the door.
He decides that the devil has tested him enough.
_____________________________________________________________
You’re leaning on the shut door of Alastor’s bedroom, sweat pooling in the thin threads of your clothing. Through the door, your head was clear enough to think; but that didn’t stop the incessant heat pooling between your thighs, attempting to suction all your attention toward one thing and one thing only.
Was this the type of pain Alastor has been in this whole time? You whimper, rubbing yourself depravedly against the rough carpet beneath you.
There was nowhere to go. You were in no state to ask Charlie and the others for a room of your own, and you wouldn’t be able to tear yourself away from the scent of him if you tried. You mewl as you ground yourself in just the right spot - but the usual satisfaction didn’t come. Frustrated, you try grinding yourself harder into the carpet, ears alert for any noises you might catch from beyond his door. You hear the unzipping of his pants, and you cry, feeling almost betrayed at the sound of him. Shakily, you tuck your fingers beneath your skirt and plunge your fingers into your entrance, letting your fingers fill the gushing cavity.
You moan at the glimmer of relief, then immediately sigh in frustration as your fingers did absolutely nothing to quell the ache.
The door rips open.
“Alastor?” You blink wearily up at the disheveled demon, all seven feet of him glaring down at you. It doesn’t even register you to feel embarrassed at this point, with your hand still stuffed under your skirt in an obvious act of self-pleasuring.
In a blink, the ground beneath you disappeared. Black smoke claws at your lungs and you squeal, finding yourself reappearing into existence on a plush crimson mattress. He materializes in front of you, breathing inconsistent and ragged, the radio static heavy in his voice.
“Darling…” He encircles your wet thighs with his damp gloves, leaning over your so closely you could feel his sweat drip onto you. He leans his forehead on yours, the flush on both your faces matching in color. “I need-.”
You pull him down by his hair before he could speak, tiring of the whole waiting game. You didn’t want to hear a whole speech, all you wanted was to have him rail you so deeply into the bed you’d forget who was who. His lips crash onto yours, and you kiss him furiously, the heated passion arising from natural biological need stronger than anything you’ve ever felt with a human man.
He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs with his knees, and slots his cock desperately into your soaked pussy. This time, you don’t give him enough time to pull away before you hurriedly work at the zipper. The moment your hands wrap around his member, hotter than the rest of him even, he lets out the most depraved noise you’ve ever heard another make. To think that you would’ve heard such a thing from the radio demon seemed nearly incomprehensible just a few hours ago.
He takes control again then, flipping you haphazardly into the four-legged position you had assumed earlier. There was no need to prepare anything - the both of you were leaking so much that you were sure he could slip in without any pain, despite his impressive size - but still he hesitates, pausing with his tip at your entrance. It twitches against your slick.
He must be thinking again, you realize. Thinking dangerous thoughts, that would take away your relief. You weren’t going to let him stop this time, especially knowing now how badly he needed it.
“Alastor if you don’t put it in right now-.”
He growls, each rivet of the sound layered with radio static. Without another word, he thrusts his whole length in. Or at least you thought it was the whole thing. But when he doesn’t move, and you peek curiously at the junction between you two, you realize with fascinated horror that he was only halfway in.
You keep your neck in that twisted position, wanting to watch his face while he waits for your walls to loosen enough to take the rest of him. Instead of looking away, like he’d done so while trying to hide his condition, he stares straight into your eyes with his piercing blackened gaze. Between his dark eyes, the slightly lowered grin, lengthened antlers and bloody drool slipping down his chin, he almost felt more animal than person. Especially given the complete silence, aside from his staticky heavy panting. Like he was incapable of speaking at the moment.
The enchanting stare-off between the two of you was interrupted by a sudden sharp thrust from him, causing your head to tilt back as you ground out another whimper. There’s a loud smack as his balls hit the base of your pussy. Something wet drips on your bare shoulder blades, where his claws had torn off the top of your shirt. It’s from his mouth, you realize. His hot breath condenses on the back of your neck, and without warning, you feel the entire top row of his teeth sinking into your skin followed closely by a guttural moan. You half scream, half moan at that, and you feel the lips on your neck curl into a grin.
He starts moving his hips; back and forth, back and forth. Little white specks dot your vision, which was blackened as your eyelids reflexively shut from the overwhelming pleasure. Your brain shuts off, the only things you could feel being the throbbing yet fulfilling sensation of his teeth digging into your neck, the warm rivulets of your own blood running down your sides, his claws shredding into your hips, and of course the maddening gratification of his cock repeatedly drilling into your hole.
This heat thing- no, he was turning you into a hedonist. You feel his teeth momentarily pull out of your skin to lick at the blood trickling from your wound, your heartbeat helping gush the red fluid out in erratic waves. There’s a gulp; he’s swallowing, drinking the blood out of your body as he never stops thrusting.
He pulls his teeth out and suddenly flips you around, cock still thrusted deep into your womb. You get a good look of his face, his eyes half-lidded, pupils an endless reddish black void, smile dripping with a mix of his natural darkened bloody spit and the fresh, vibrant red of your blood. He leans in, pressing the salty iron on his lips to yours. You, in all your heat-dazed mind and curiosity, let him thrust his tongue into the cavern of your mouth, invading your tastebuds with something musky and bitter, mixed well with a pulsing sweet irony taste.
You’re tasting him on your tongue. Him and you, together. You must really be fucked dumb because that’s the thought that brings you over the edge, body stilling as a cry rips from your throat, choking on the blood that had started to clot in your throat. Your walls spasm wildly around his length, causing him to thrust faster.
He fucks into your limp body on the bed, a look of deep concentration on his face as he works to overcome a century of not having orgasmed. He cums without any warning, face frozen into the same smile he always wore. He doesn’t want you to see him come undone.
Your breaths begin to steady as he clings onto your hips, spurting endless amounts of sperm into your body. It never seemed to end. Each time you thought he was done, his hips would convulse and you’d feel another bout of liquid fill your womb. You reach a shaky hand to pet the bulge that filled your lower abdomen, your innards being stretched uncomfortably full from the girth of his knot and endless cum. He glances at you then, almost sheepishly. Almost apologetically, like he’s doing something wrong. You caress his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
You speak up. “That was… not what I expected when I arranged this appointment.”
He stares at you in what looks like amusement.
It’s only now, in the aftermath of your session, that you notice how much of your blood was coating your skin, forming a thin, sticky layer. Yet he showed no signs of stopping, the same deranged grin gracing his face as the one that was there when you first started speaking.
“I apologize dear, but it seems that we are far from done.”
He digs his teeth into your abdomen now, savoring the taste of iron on his tongue. You hiss in pain, twisting your body on the sheets as though to avoid his assault. But he maintains a firm grip on your sides, and you give in, letting the pleasure of being under his control overtake the pain. He sinks his teeth deeper, and there’s a weird tingling sensation where he bites. You wiggle a bit, realizing that the tingle was coming from the strange sensation of his teeth hitting muscle.
“N-not done…?” Your own heat felt like it was fading, returning you to your normal state of mind.
“I’m not sure how long this will last, given the amount of time I’ve been putting off the whole ordeal.” He pulls your thighs around him and situates you in his lap. You blush, feeling shy all of a sudden at his unexpected display of affection. “Once it deflates enough to pull you off…” He nibbles at your earlobe, threatening to bite into the soft flesh. “We’ll be here for quite a while darling.”
You hum contemplatively, resting your head on his sweating chest. A long time… you weren’t looking forward to explaining all the missed appointments to your patients.
And you certainly weren’t looking forward to facing Charlie and the others.
_____________________________________________________________
Two weeks later, Alastor finally let you leave his room for the first time.
You limp to the door, wondering how you were going to explain the fact that you spent two weeks straight fucking the cum out of your supposed patient. Well, he was still a patient. And you had treated him. Just with a more hands-on method than you originally thought.
You had cleaned up to the best of your ability in Alastor’s bathroom, where he took you one last time over the sink. Luckily, your shirt covered any wounds he left on your upper body. Unfortunately, given how short your skirt was, there was no way you could hide the deep bite marks from your thighs to your ankles.
“So… you found out that his ‘illness’ was contagious because you contracted it, then locked yourself in his room essentially to quarantine from the rest of us?” Angel asks speculatively. It was clear he doubted the words coming from your mouth.
“That’s the most kind, pure-hearted thing I’ve ever seen a sinner do!” Charlie on the other hand, instantly bought into your lie. She holds your hands excitedly, a million thoughts racing through her head at what she could do with this information.
“Then what about those marks on your legs? Looks like you got mauled by an animal.” Husk is quick to point out the evidence, but you laugh, covering it up with another excuse you thought up.
“Oh that’s from when I went exploring alone in the swamp. Alastor didn’t tell me there were dangerous animals in there. Now I’ve learned my lesson!”
“Riiiight then why didn’t either of ya respond when we came checkin’ up on you all those times? We were worried, ya know?”
Alastor enters the bar, a grin brightly plastered on his face and clothing as polished as ever. “We were busy!”
He’s already decided that you wouldn’t be leaving his side after you saw him in such a vulnerable state. That, and the strange alteration the rut left on his hormones has led him to form an… unexpected connection to you. After a few back and forths, you excuse yourself, standing up from the bar stool and heading back upstairs with the excuse of forgetting something in Alastor’s room.
On the way up, you feel the burning of several suspicious stares, as well as a strangely possessive and loving one. Your phone dings.
It’s a message. From Angel.
Just admit ya’ll fucked up there
.
.
.
A/N: I’m not a big fan of writing “he growled” buuuuut my other options according to Google are “he snarled, barked, yapped, bayed(?)” and I wasn’t about to fucking write about how he bayed at the sight of your pussy. Maybe I should’ve just gone all in on making him a little bitch and only wrote “he whimpered pathetically” but alas the fic is over
More Posts from Tr-ig-ge-re-d and Others
Wow you have a really weird, offputting vibe would you like to perform cunnilingus on eachother-
Stepdad! Alastor will ALWAYS have my heart
Please. Alastor x single mom?
Oh my god and imagine how he’d give her the best Mother’s Day ever after years of just her waking up to a normal day aside from her baby giving her a macaroni necklace or a card and now she’s waking up to a breakfast in bed and a day to relax I’m not getting emotional you are
Okay, but y'all are giving me baby fever fr with these asks
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: F L U F F, A little bit of sex towards the end but a very small amount
Description: ☝️⬆️
Whether or not you were a mother when you were alive, you certainly were one now. You took in and protected as many children sinners you could because nobody else would
You took care of toddlers all the way up to teenagers, it was an exhausting and thankless job but you don't think you could ever quit
Not when one of your kids comes crying to you because they scraped their knee, or they had their first heartbreak, or they had a nightmare
How any of them ended up down here was baffling to you, especially the youngest ones
You protected your family fiercely and have even gone toe to toe with overlords to keep your kids safe, earning you a reputation for being a mama bear
You loved being their mother and wouldn't give it up for anything, no matter your own sins
So when one of your little ones goes missing, you're panicking and searching everywhere for her. You spend all day trying to find her and asking anybody if they've seen her
After hours of searching, one of your teenagers calls you, telling you they found her but that you need to come home immediately. You don't need to hear anything more
When you get home, you find your little girl sitting in the lap of Charlie Morningstar, Hell's Princess. All your kids are gathered around her while she tells them about her hotel
Something you had been trying not to let them know about because you didn't want to get their hopes up only to be heartbroken. It was cruel
Not to mention the shady characters that probably stay there.
So imagine your irritation when all your children suddenly swarm you and start begging to stay at the hotel. Each one excited and hopeful to learn how to go to heaven
You can't tell them no so you try to dissuade them but they insist on going so you allow it. It's very reluctant agreement though.
You try to keep all your children close to you once you enter the hotel and see the others. Let's see, an angelic exorcist, a p0rnstar, a tiny murderous maid, a drunk bartender and one of the most deadly overlords around
You were unimpressed, and it showed as you held your kids a little tighter, not even hearing Charlie excitedly telling you about all the amenities
You have a difficult time letting your kids sleep so far away from you, all of them excited to get their own rooms. You often check on them throughout the night
More than once, Alastor has caught you peeking into their bedrooms to make sure they're still safe in their beds
You startle when you hear his amused laughter, nearly bumping right into his chest as you close the door behind you
"Nobody is going to eat them while they're asleep, you know."
You can't help but feel defensive, crossing your arms and giving Alastor a withering look
"That's not funny coming from you."
His smile only gets wider, gripping your chin and tilting your head up as he leans in close
"Darling, it's even funnier because it's coming from me!"
You insist on making sure your children eat a good diet, often making it yourself because you don't trust anybody else to do it. That and some of your little ones can be picky eaters
Often, Alastor stops by the kitchen to watch you, curious about what you're making and how much of it you plan to make
"My my~ That smells absolutely delicious, my dear~! What are you making?"
You're guarded, setting down the plates on the table a little harder than you meant to
"It's just an old family recipe, nothing special."
So imagine your weary surprise when he starts to help you cook, helping with the food preparation and even setting the table. You start to get used to his help, relaxing a little more each time you two stand hip to hip, cooking
He's even taken to sitting down to meals with you and your family, an amused smile on his face as he watches all of you interact. Eventually, he joins in the conversations, and your youngest ones get comfortable enough to even eat off his plate
"Don't take food from his plate! That's rude..!"
"It's quite alright, my dear~ I find it endearing~"
He's even in your corner when your picky eaters rise up and try to say they don't like what you made. Pushing their plates away and pouting
"Mom, I don't like it..."
You can't help but sigh and roll your eyes, exasperated and annoyed that you have to go through this again
"Yes you do, you've eaten this before and you gobbled it up... Just try it, baby."
They whine and try to refuse when Alastor speaks up, pushing their plate back towards them gently
"Now, now, your mother worked hard on this meal... We don't want her good efforts to go to waste, do we?"
"No..."
Your child whines but reluctantly takes their fork and begins eating, Alastor giving you a triumphant grin as he sits back down
You take a bite of your own food to hide the fond smile that wants to creep up onto your face
The hardest, scariest moment at the hotel for you was when you and one of your older girls got into an argument in front of Alastor
It all started over a party and a boy, you wouldn't let her go and in typical teenage fashion, she started to fight with you. The more you held your ground and said no, the worse it got
"Young lady, that is not a good environment for you! It is a disgusting den of perverts, drugs and uninhibited violence!"
You tried to stay calm and reason with her, but her emotions were running too high
"We're in HELL! There's no place here that's good for any of us! Why do you have to be such a bitch!?"
Before you can even open your mouth to reply, Alastor places a hand on her shoulder, his smile twitching and the sound of static buzzing
Your heart drops as you fear he's going to hurt her, instinctively moving forward to stop him
"Alastor-"
"Dear one, it's bad manners to talk to your mother like that. She only worries for you and wants to keep you safe. I suggest you go to your room and calm down, then come back to apologize to her. Hm~?"
He pats her head and nudges her to go to her room, turning to you and tilting his head. She looks embarrassed and a little ashamed, seemingly taking Alastor's words to heart
"Ah, teenagers~ Always so temperamental even when dead~"
You do your best to ignore the sudden heat on your cheeks, the way Alastor handled the situation having you feel some type of way
If Alastor were to have a type...he would have to say he's definitely drawn to the motherly type, it's a weakness of his
So when Charlie drags you and your gaggle of children to the hotel, Alastor has an inkling of the kind of trouble he's in for the moment he sees you
He's seen how you've come running out of your room in the dead of night because you heard one of your little ones crying from a nightmare. How you spend the rest of your night awake and rocking them back to sleep
Alastor has watched you run yourself ragged trying to get all of your children ready to go out for the day, juggling your teenagers yelling at you because they can't find their clothes and your little ones tugging on your clothes for your attention
He's noticed how you'll shield your family from sinners at least twice your size without fear. Not even he himself was an exception from your intense protectiveness
In the earlier days of your family moving in, Alastor had picked up one of your younger kids to stop them from touching something and you had panicked
He'll never forget how you had tore your kid away from him and held them tight, giving Alastor a intense look as you poked his chest
"Never do that again."
He had tried to brush it off and charm you with a smile, acting unbothered
"Darling, your family is in no danger here. I can assure you-"
"Bullshit. There's no such thing as a safe place or someone you can trust, not here."
You had stormed off after that and Alastor was left with a warm feeling building in his chest that has yet to leave
Your soft smile whenever one of your kids snuggled with you, the way you sighed and put your hands on your hips when they argued with you. Your voice when you sang your littlest ones to sleep
It was all so addicting for him, he found himself wanting to be a part of your family and the love within it
Without even realizing it, Alastor had begun filling the role of the father in your family, ending up getting attached to each of your kids
He learned what made them happy, what made them sad or scared, which ones needed hugs and which ones preferred words
Both you and Alastor began to work together as a team, and most people outside of the hotel just assumed you two were a married couple. A married couple with a small army of kids
You stop one child from bumping into someone, and Alastor scoops up the other two before they can do the same
Alastor will cook dinner and you'll clean up the mess while you both sneak the dessert that the kids don't know you have
All of you will hang out together in the lobby of the hotel, Alastor humming to himself and pretending to nap while your girls play with his hair and paint his claws
Your boys will all be cuddled up around you while you read a story to them, both of you enjoying the domestic bliss
There's a building tension between you and Alastor that everyone can sense, even the kids but nobody comments on it
Except Angel but he doesn't dare bring it up around you two
Your kids start pulling little stunts to get you two to end up together, offering to make you both dinner only for it to be classically romantic with candles, flowers and your children pretending to be waiters
Or asking embarrassing questions in front of the two of you, like if Alastor thought you looked pretty or if you liked Alastor's voice
Or wanting both of you to tuck them and give them goodnight kisses at the same time
The worst part is...it was totally working
The tipping point came when one of your boys woke up crying in the middle of the night, both you and Alastor barging into the bedroom
He was inconsolable, having obviously had a nightmare and repeating that he didn't belong here. He only quieted down once you and Alastor wrapped your arms around him
The three of you were cuddled up on a bed that was far too small for all of you, you couldn't contain your blush once you realized this
So Alastor offered up his room for the night, and the three of you snuggled together in his bed, Alastor's arms wrapping around you
You both woke up with more kids in the bed than you remember going to sleep with, your little boy having climbed onto one of his sisters instead
Leaving you tucked under Alastor's chin with your face in his neck, Alastor's strong arms around your waist and his face buried in your hair
The two of you had pulled away out of embarrassment, making eye contact before suddenly melting back together, soft smiles on your faces
"Alastor..?"
"Hm~?"
"I really want to kiss you right now..."
You two are unofficially, officially a couple after that. Grossing out your children by kissing each other, saying sappy things, just embarrassing them with how in love you are
It's so painfully domestic, but Alastor wouldn't give it up for anything. Not when the youngest ones grab his legs and try to hold him down, not when the teenagers get snarky with him. Not when you two bicker over what's best for the family
Even the more embarrassing moments, like when you two are in bed together, Alastor chasing his release as you lock your legs around him and dig your nails into his back
He's nearly about to spill inside you when there's a tentative knock on the door, making the two of you freeze and whip your heads towards the sound
"Papa..? Mama? I keep hearing scary noises, and I can't sleep..."
It's an awkward untangling of limbs and soft cursing before you two start laughing at how absurd it is
Or the softer moments when he looks into the bedroom to see you singing your kids to sleep, feeling himself grow relaxed and sleepy at the sound of it
His life has nearly completely changed since meeting you and your family, but he wouldn't change anything even if he could
Rosie often teases him about how much he's softened up for his family. It's all good-natured, though, she just as attached to them as he is
"So Alastor~ How's that little family of yours doing? Did your girls finally stop fighting over that boy?"
"They're lovely as always, but unfortunately, that boy seems to have been scared off."
"Such a shame~"
"Quite~"
Honestly, the only thing Alastor needs now is to find you a ring
@valerie-is-in-the-cupboard I know we talked about you writing a lil' something about this, so I tried to twist it up because I didn't want to inadvertently take any ideas you had!
My favorite thing that happens in vox x reader fics is that when we’re dating Vox, Valentino just IMMEDIATELY invites himself into the relationship 😭
I love it cuz
1: That’s so him and
2: I want him too 💀
It’s just the thought that Valentinos like oh Vox has a gf now? Lemme see what the hype is about-
And Vox being a pathetic lil piss baby and not being able to tell Val no-
Reader just going along for the ride ❤️
Aaand it's all over the screen 💔
Valentino in his new valentine outfit
I’m NOT LYING I’ve been looking for this fic for forever I’m going insane
Like they meet on earth and reader signs a contract to have his baby (Charlie) and they eventually have it but reader dies during childbirth and goes to heaven
And then something something something reader BEHEADS ADAM LAST CHAPTER I READ 😭
I NEED to find it 💔
WHERE is that fic where Lucifer asks reader to have his kid and she dies and then she literally decapitates Adam omg I just remembered it and I wanna reread it 😭🤞 I lost it 💔
OH MY GOD 😭
I watched Deadpool and Wolverine teehee THE CAR SCEEENEEEEEE UGHHHHH
WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST YOU RETURNED 💜💜💜
A Doe in Fall (Part 15)
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦 Part 15 - Silence smut💦📍
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Where we left off: While you set out to find the perfect accessories for your love confession, Brady stopped by Alastor’s home. Alastor lost his temper and scared Brady off the property after giving a tour of the greenhouse. Brady knows just who Alastor is now.
Helpful definitions this part
Box - Bar ✦ Cheese it - Run away ✦ To be pinched - to be arrested ✦ Hooch - Alcohol ✦ Nightcap - A drink before bed, often times alcohol and often times an excuse to be alone together privately
Part 15 Silence
Alastor decides secrets shouldn’t exist between you after his last fuck up and gets straight to the news, which puts a slight kink in your plans for the evening. Namely, professing your love for your suave killer boyfriend. Luckily he has some ideas! Well, one.
「Warnings/Promises: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader, mention of sexual assault in the context of stating things not happening, sexy sex time, confessions, coppers, Mimzy’s unlabeled alcohol, the water table, love, partial writing credit to Kellin Quinn, the meaning of flowers, Mimz is short for Mimzy, if you see MINDY or MINZY no you didn’t」
MDNI 💖 🥃 💐
“He knows.” Alastor’s eyes were closed and his palms facing towards heaven, hopefully in prayer to spare his life as he felt sure you’d strangle him.
“Excuse me?” There was a ringing in your ears, vision darkening a little at the edges. You knew exactly who he meant and what they knew, but you needed a second longer to live in your life before.
Alastor had hummed the entire way home from your errands, fingers dancing along the steering wheel. You managed to hide the contents of your bag behind your back as he held the front door open for you, sliding it under the kitchen table when Alastor asked you to take a seat because he had news.
“She knows.” Brady hissed it into the receiver of the first pay phone he found upon leaving Alastor’s home.. His car was parked at a hasty angle just across from a small restaurant. “He killed Tommy.”
He heard Freeman exhale before shuffling off somewhere, “Who?”
“Alastor!” He said it louder than he had meant too, but the confused question his partner sighed slowly in reply seemed to be nothing short of wasting time.
“Alastor.” You breathed it out, you felt your fingertips go cold. Blood flowed to your core, protecting vital organs from the danger your brain knew was nearby.
“Don’t fret, my love. He will never find a body, never a drop of blood in my home or car.” A clap of his hands, a sparkle in his eyes, “Let's go dancing!”
You shot up, the ludicrous suggestion physically pulling you out of the chair. The wooden legs squeaked as they rubbed against the flooring. This was it, your heart was going to beat so fast and so hard it just gave up the effort. A gulp of air before you felt the room spin again.
Every muscle in your body went slack just as quickly as they’d roared with fearful vigor barely a second before, causing you to lean onto the table with both hands for support. “This is no time for dancing, Alastor!” A wave of nausea made your head hang heavy between your shoulders. Heaviness was a good word for your entire existence at the moment..
He fought back a self confident chuckle, knowing the look you’d give him would be sharp enough to cut. “This has been my singular focus for years. I’ve made no mistakes. He has two options left to him. Go crazy hunting down something that doesn’t exist ooor,” he sang the word, “he tells his superiors he thinks a popular radio host and public figure is a mass killer, in which case—,” a wicked grin curled up his face.
“They’ll put you on desk duty, if not send you away on medical leave. You sound… unhinged, Kenny.” Across the lake, in a diner too lit for his migraine, Brady stared at the table between him and Freeman. “You gotta let it go. You went on his property and insulted his mother and think his reaction is proof he’s a murderer? No, no sir. You need to go home and take a shower. Maybe ask for a couple days and go visit the in-laws. Get out of the city for a bit. Come back fresh faced and bushy tailed, yeah?”
Brady growled, hands running down his face in barely contained frustration, “He threatened my life and then said that he killed Tommy, Ed.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“I asked if it was a threat, he denied it, and I said he killed Tommy, and he said on second thought, yes.”
“He was more likely agreeing that it was a threat. Which is his right, you were trespassing, Ken! With a gun on your hip, bud.”
Brady’s stare was absent of any indication he was there.
“Just— go home, buddy.”
“Let’s go out!” Alastor’s hands slipped around your waist and held you assuredly against him. You were a scared sailor tied to the mast in a storm. You’d survive together or go down as one piece as long as his hands were wrapped around you. The bonds of love keeping you safe.
Love, your eyes looked down to the table beside you, the bag of surprises underneath.
“I thought we were playing it quiet.” Your own voice was miles away. Like a death, you needed time to grasp how changed your world was now. A scrap of your mind tried to remember the story of pandora.
“That was before. Now there’s no reason to hide! I want to twirl you around a room and steal everyone’s attention. I want people flocking to your theater to see Alastor’s girl in her element.”.
A sentiment so sweet it sliced through your panic with a stark efficiency. The deep seated desire to be more than just wanted, but to be flaunted, eclipsed your very real fear of Brady’s next moves.
“You want people to know you’re with a dancer?”
Brady who? More important things had come up now.
Alastor’s smile dropped, thumb wiping a lonely tear from your cheek before you could realize it was there. Backing up from his firm hold, your hands shot to your face. Confused, wiping away the tears forming, you let out a self conscious chuckle. Rarely did you cry let alone around others, yet since Alastor’s arrival it seemed you didn't recognize yourself anymore.
“You’re a marvelous performer. Why would I not want that?” His smile was mega-watt in the darkening kitchen. “Another bragging point for myself, really.”
Your chin quivered, a thawed anger boiling in your chest. How many times had other women told you how worthless you were for your profession? How many men promised to keep you their dirty little secret, well kept and taken care of? Brady knowing meant… freedom. You could say Alastor’s name as much as you wanted, to whomever you wanted. You could make a scene together.
“Fuck it, let’s go out.”
“But I’m right.” Brady’s eyes finally met Freeman’s.
Freeman laughed, a little too loudly, and offered to the waitress and other customers apologetic little bows of his head in their directions. “Fine, maybe. But who fucking cares? Did he kill a kid? Is he raping people? Bustin’ up mom and pop shops for money?” He wasn’t at the station, he wasn't on duty; he could be honest. What harm was there in that?
In the depths of his obsession, Brady took the rhetorical question as a genuine one. “Not that we know of! Where there’s smoke there's fire!”
“For fucks sake. Kenny. Enough. The only thing catching fire here is your reputation. There’s no evidence this man’s done a damn thing, even less than none that he’s murdered multiple people. You’re unwell, pal. You need to back up before you—,” his hand came to rest on his partners across the bright white table. “You’re gonna ruin your life like this.”
“What were your wise words again? Right,” Brady set his money down and slid from the booth, “Who fucking cares.”
“Kenny!” Decorum damned, Freeman shot up and followed Brady, “Don’t be like that. Please.” Heads turned as their peaceful afternoon meals were interrupted by the raised voices.
“Excuse me! Are you going to finish paying?” A line cook hollered, “Or do we need to call the cops?”
Freeman turned back to see Brady walking off into the rising darkness of the night, a bright ember orange sun setting on his shoulders. A sure sign of fall dying to winter’s early evenings. “No, it’s alright. Sorry.” He closed the door and returned to his booth, wondering what exactly he was witnessing. The fall of a good man? The end of a career? Or something worse?
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It felt like your first date all over again. That same nervous energy hummed between your skin and your bones. The bag had been abandoned beneath the kitchen table for a hasty change of outfits, Alastor practically skipping to the car.
As you had been buttoning your dress you did have a wild, ‘what the fuck are we doing?’ pass over your head.
It felt like a celebration of …. Being found out?
All the relief of finally admitting a lie without any of the fall out.
And as the car jostled over the bridge into downtown New Orleans Alastor was grinning brightly. It absolutely was a celebration. He’d finally made a move toward Brady, he’d left his place in the shadows and it was liberating. No more hiding. The scariest part of his hobby had been confronted and nothing would come of it.
Nothing could come of it. Brady had made too many missteps. It was all over the body language of his partner as he shifted in Alastor’s office chair. You’d been released with a promise of an apology, a clear indicator no one was sympathetic to Brady’s witch-hunt. Alastor was reckless, and impulsive, and sometimes dismissed consequences, but he wasn't stupid. He hadn’t done or said anything conclusively to Brady. The detective had unlocked the door all on his own and Alastor merely held it open as the man stumbled into an unbelievable situation.
When he explained the interaction to you in more detail (though you were admittedly distracted by him undressing) you felt a small easing of worry roll over you again. He hadn’t found any proof to bring back to the station. It was all conjecture. It was words, and without someone to corroborate, they were as good as a fairy tale. The only person who could back up what had happened was you and you’d take Alastor’s secret to your grave. A little smirk crept up your cheek and you pursed your lips to pull it back. You could imagine his face, Detective Brady’s, asking you to confirm what he knew was true. And how it’d fall when you denied him.
A chill, the wind from the river was cold and unimpeded by the safety of the trees. But soon you were sheltered by buildings and basking in the glow of the lights.
Your relationship had quickly gone from carefree and curious to a bond held together by a dangerous secret. There was a still a secret to be kept but Alastor’s lungs seemed to take in more air now that the little worm that was the detective was ejected. He hummed freely, fingers again dancing across the broad steering wheel as if across a piano’s keys. The deliciousness of the moment was still stirring in his guts and tingling down his spine. The flash of fear. The panic. His favorite part, arguably. Normally it’s so short lived.
But even now, he knew Brady had that fear in his heart. And it made Alastor ecstatic.
Reentering the far-too-fancy restaurant was mortifying, but the host looked at you with a pleasant surprise that let you know you did much better this time around. No smeared makeup, no mussed hair. You got to follow him through the dining room and into the secret door that led down the stairs to Mimzy’s speakeasy.
Funny, the wealthy had well lit hotel bars with no false front and you all had secret basement floors.
Which made you pause, ignoring Mimzy’s greeting entirely. A basement in Louisiana? That didn’t make a lick of sense. The river was just a block over, how was this entire place not flooded. You couldn’t linger on it too long though, Alastor pulling you forward by the hand and presenting you to Mimzy.
“Mimzy, the often spoken of but never seen!” His hand gestured to you like a magician to a rabbit.
“We met already when she came to gather you off the floor.” She didn’t offer her hand, instead keeping one on her hip and one on a drink. Alastor grumbled, he hadn’t wanted to remember that night.
“Pleased tah meet ya!”
You noted how her accent only got thicker when she tried to enunciate.
“Pleasures all mine.” Your own hands fidgeted with your dress. “It’s nice to see Alastor actually has friends.” Alastor protested, you’d met his friends before. But when you asked him to recall anything of depth about them he rolled his eyes. Mimzy laughed too loudly at the comment.
“I’m not sure he’s got many of those. He’s a little hard to love. I think he’d let me drown if his shoes would get ruined.”
“I didn’t invite her here to create a clique of bullies. We came here to drink and dance. In that order, preferably.” Alastor slid onto a stool, “And leather will absolutely get ruined if submerged Mimzy, have some sense.”
Slipping into the seat beside him, you let the two bicker as you focused on the oddness of sitting there with him. Going out was rare, a night in was easier for you both for obvious reasons. The last time you did so you were at his side for less than an hour before he was whisked away to his mistress (murder).
“Three shots sweetheart. We’re celebrating! I took your advice.” Alastor patted the bar when he said it and you tuned back in. What advice?
“And a water.” You added at the risk of sounding like a square.
“Of course you did!” A withering snicker that melted into an embarrassed giggle from Mimzy, “what did I advise, exactly?”
“The ex.” His hand reached over to gripped yours on the bar, “Put the fear of God into him.”
Eyes on your hands, you wondered what exactly he’d said about your ‘ex’ to Mimzy. But you had to trust him. A little nod of your head before you met Mimzy’s smiling eyes. She whirled around and set up the glasses.
As she poured she overflowed the tiny flutes and spilled with every move. Once they were all too full, she let the nondescript bottle come down with a thud.
Mimzy tapped one shot glass on the bar and raised it, “To God!” She beamed.
“To Fear.” A smirk so wicked you thought you saw his shadow dance across the far wall. He raised it higher than hers.
You quickly raised your glass too, toasting to the real reason for your prolonged freedom, “To Alastor.” His sharp eyes came to wide eye you and softened, smile shortening before pushing his glass forward. A clink and you downed it in time.
“What,” Alastor sputtered, tossing his head back to keep from wretching, “the fuck is that?!”
“How the shit would I know. He rolls it down here and I drink it.” Mimzy shuddered but didn’t seem too affected.
You had both hands gripping your glass of water, gulping it down to wash away the distinct taste of ethanol. “I don’t think that’s safe for human consumption.”
“This is the stuff that makes people go blind.” Alastor inspected the shot glass closely. She just shrugged. “Whiskey next. Actual whiskey. As in, it was made to be whiskey and people waited for it to become whiskey.” She rolled her eyes again and leaned down beneath the bar.
A drop fell on your cheek and reminded you of your question from before, “Hey Mimzy, are we… under the water table? How'd you get a permit for a basement.” Your head turned up to the ceiling, painted black to hide the pipes and beams exposed there. You couldn’t be sure what was above you now, the kitchen? A dining room?
“Permit, ha!” She croaked, “This isn’t on the fucking paperwork. This room doesn’t exist to the city of New Orleans.” She pointed along the far right wall, “We’re built on a hill, this is tech-na-cully the ground floor! Clever, huh?” Mimzy batted her lashes and waited for the praise. Her sweet tone dropped to her natural tenor, “Tell me I’m clever.” She hissed.
“As ever! Since we’re asking questions, I’ve always wondered why it's called CD?” Alastor’s hand left yours to bring the newly poured whiskey to his nose. His eyebrows rose in a surprised approval.
Mimzy’s eyes flashed over with anger before she hurriedly looked around for something to fuss the emotion out with. She settled on a dish rag she twisted and wrung tightly, “You nit, it’s a G and a D. It’s called the Golden Dish.” You heard some threads snap. “You’ve been coming here for ages and thought it was a C and D??”
Alastor shrugged, unbothered by the raging bar owner as he took a second large sip. She whipped the rag at the counter with a snap, “I’m the golden dish!! I’m fancy and beautiful!!” A wet pop of the small towel with every word.
An enlightened, “aah” from Alastor before he turned his head to you, “Ready for that dance?” He told the whiskey he’d be back and spun around to pull you to the center of the small bar.
The music had to stay low to avoid alerting the patrons upstairs with their virgin drinks, but a lively tune had Alastor guiding you through a foxtrot, Alabama Slide. The piano was all they could allow but it was good enough for the various couples taking to the open space.
Your right hand in his left, his hand on your back and yours on his shoulder, you moved. Alastor walked forward and you walked back, a turn and you switched your direction. The embrace was arguably everyone’s favorite part of the foxtrot. You had to be close, and you had a good excuse for it. As you turned the edge of your dress slid across your shins just below your knees, free and loose. The bare shoulders were a little cold for the changing weather but it made you feel unrestrained. Your coat was nearby if you felt a draft in the buried first floor Mimzy called a bar.
Maybe it really would be okay. You’d trusted him so thoroughly so far and Alastor never failed to put you first. If he wasn’t worried, and he truly wasn’t, then maybe you could settle into a comfortable (if still trepidatious) relaxation. When you looked up at Alastor, body pressed into body, you felt small. But again, not in the diminutive sense like some men happily made women. Small in the sense that he could hold you so securely with such ease.
Your focus shifted to where your hands touched him. Skin on skin in one hand, your fingers just below his collar on his upper back on the other hand. The fabric was cool to the touch. But as your fingers lingered the heat of his body began to bloom through the weave. A blossoming of your own, cheeks tingling pinker. Touch for touch’s sake. No dance to give an illusion of need. You could do more with each other, and that lack of barrier between you two made even a hand in public seem like polite restraint. You knew his appetites now well enough to know what he needed; the excited intimacy of witnessing his worst compulsions and the ease with which touch could replace difficult to articulate words for him. His need to please, to be needed without seeming needy, also spurred him on. But less and less did you see that motivation pushing hungry touches past heavy petting.
A little jolt of excitement shook up his arm, imperceivable to your hand.
The difference a bathroom door makes to how much touch felt like scandal was astonishing. The things he felt compelled to do to you in dance halls was thrilling, and yet now, he felt bare under the dim glow of the illicit bar. You felt different than before. He was suddenly embarrassed to remember he dragged you into a bathroom once, but then he remembered how you inspired his hunger and his skin warmed from his neck down. He could taste you in a crowded place with only a piece of wood between you both and a crowd, but dancing so closely with the eyes of arguably his closest friend on him was making him uncharacteristically bashful.
He opened his mouth to speak but played it off, instead licking his lips and turning you both again as the modest crowd spun around.
Since he cried so openly into your lap, this was your first time in public with him. Was that why you felt different? He tried to find a word for it but failed. He’d touched you many times, his smirk couldn’t stop itself but he managed to keep it pulled to the left, but now it felt like the first time.
A first date. A first dance. He worried about how heavy his hand was on your back, how sweaty his palm was pressed against yours. There was a worry he could feel at the bottom of his spine, a little itchy thread of wool wrapped around his lower vertebrae. Would you become bored now?
The excitement would be gone with Brady, he feared. Things could be normal, and then you’d see once the blood was washed away and the trunk was empty he was just a man. What good was a man to you?
He shifted and let you be the one to walk forward while he walked backwards blindly. He needed to step with confidence in your direction to keep the dance graceful and effortless.
When he looked down at you, you were watching closely behind him. You were focused. And then your eyes flitted back to his and your brow unfurrowed and he watched the shoddy overhead lights sparkle in your stare. The moon could only wish to ever reflect light with such a brilliant clarity.
He didn’t notice the music had stopped, the piano player flipping pages to find the next tune. You had to tap the shoulder to get his attention back to the room.
Alastor wondered if songs had always been so short. He gestured to the bar again, where his drink was still waiting. He needed a little more lubrication, just enough to drown the butterflies.
You asked Mimzy if she had rum, and she confirmed she had brown liquor. That wasn’t what you asked, but you just nodded. As you scanned the room, you noticed some people entering from a double door past the dance floor and the piano. A mixed race couple lowered their head as they came down the wide stairs that were maybe half as tall as the ones you came down before. Their hands tightly laced, they joined a group already settled at a table.
“… it’s nice you let everyone in here, Mimzy.” You said it softly, not necessarily to her just a sentiment you felt the need to express.
Her eyes shot up and followed the direction you were looking, “Their money's green ain’t it?” She half assed a glass cleaning before pouring the ‘rum’, “Only color I care about.”
You hummed before tilting your head to the double doors, “What's back there?”
“That leads to the backdoor. When I can’t bring people in through the front doors or they’re too drunk,” she paused to glare at Alastor, “to walk through the dining hall.”
Alastor’s posture was perfect as he sipped the drink. He’d only been pushed out through the secret door once before which seemed a reasonable number given Mimzy’s heavy handed pours.
His mind wandered to Brady again, with much annoyance. The way he had smiled when he first appeared on his property. It was a smile that darkened the edges of Alastor’s vision, until all he could see was shining teeth.
“Have you ever met someone whose smile just feels sinister. Nothing behind it, just teeth.” He mused.
“That’s how most people smile.”
“Mimz, that’s not what I mean—-“, Alastor’s hand came to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Ugh I hate you flowery men with your secret meanings. My beau just says what he means and we’re peachy!”
“Simple.” Alastor exhaled through his nose.
“Exactly!” Mimzy didn't notice the insult.
It was admittedly what he liked about her. He could unwind and relax without worrying too much, as she never dug deeper than the topsoil.
“Let me speak more plainly, when a wolf bears its teeth do you call it a smile?” Alastor asked the ether.
Mimzy was stumped, a little huh escaping her perfectly colored lips. That was less plain to her. Alastor gave her a pat on the hand and offered you another dance.
A cycle of hooch and dance, until you were happy to sway with the room against Alastor’s chest. The butterflies were still, and he could let his head rest atop of yours. How many more nights could he have like that?
You let your vision wander around the room. The bar was quite nice for a speakeasy. The floor was a pretty vinyl. The tables were few but looked like nice sturdy dark wood.
The walls had posters of singers and ads for cigarettes very lowly lit by small flower shaped sconces.
A loud bang above your heads stopped you, nearly everyone looking up at the ceiling. Someone had to hit the piano man on the back to silence him.
Another bang and a series of scuffles before a loud knock came to the hidden door most of you had taken down to the bar.
“Cheese it or get pinched!” Mimzy crawled over the bar and led the charge for the double doors. You and Alastor had barely turned your bodies before the door above the stairs flew open and the light flooded down to the small room.
You felt hands on your back pushing you through the doors before Mimzy was grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to the right. Your coat was in your hands as someone passed them around in the dark and you put it on out of instinct. Well, you were somewhat sure it was your coat.
Looking over your shoulder you saw the doors shut as the men began tying the handles together with their ties. It was dark now with the doors shut, you couldn’t see where your man was in the mix. You were being swept up in the half a dozen or so women rushing to something on the wall.
“Alastor!” You turned back but Mimzy grabbed your wrist and tugged. “We can’t leave him!” Her hand gripped your shoulder and head and pushed you down to make you crouch. A faint light came in before leaving again. Then again. There was some kind of door a few feet up the wall.
“Leaving the men behind is our right!” She said.
“The only perk.” A stranger giggled. Their mood was mischievous despite the sounds of cops hitting against the double doors.
“Not the only perk.” Someone laughed before a hand in the dark found your shoulder and pushed you down a little further. “Out the little hole ya go.”
You stumbled, shoe catching up the square cut out lip. Another woman helped you keep upright until you were free. You watched the others all emerge from the same place you had — what looked like the exit of a trash shoot. But it was lower than usual, and cleaner. And also obviously not a trash chute once you’d seen it from the inside. Looking around, you realized you were in an alley that ran along the right side of the restaurant. You could hear the water and the bugs that always lingered there coming from behind you. There was a slope to the ground beneath your feet that rose up to meet the road you met Alastor on before.
“Scatter, you idiot!”
“How do we find the men later?”
“They find us, at home or back here next week.”
You ran toward the back side of the building, where the hill sloped down. The bar is going to flood with the first hurricane, you thought as you felt the slick pavement beneath your shoes. The river was so close.
Finding you wasn’t really going to work unless you met at the car. You just pressed your back flush to the wall of the neighboring building and waited. You couldn’t stand the idea of just hoping he made it out. Sure enough, some men flew past and you managed to snag the arm of yours. It was easy to see which one was Alastor in the rush, his height paired with his complexion made him stand out.
He turned back with his free arm cocked but realized it was you. “I almost decked you!” A kiss instead of a fist, his smile not leaving even through the peck. “Come on, to the river.”
Another tugging of the arm as you were taken to the edge of the hill and began sliding down as you tried to get down it. Your heel was flatter than you would normally wear and slid down the hill easily instead of getting caught in the ground.
“Why?!”
“No ligh-,” the word ended in a small yelp as the slick grass and fallen leaves won out, his shoe losing its grip and him slipping down the hillside on his ass. You were shortly behind. The moisture immediately soaked through and you felt your ass and thighs become cool with the wetness.
With an oof you came to a stop against his back. “Shhh,” he pulled you down by the ankles until you were neatly pressed into his side and your dress lifted a little too high up your thighs.
Your fingers pulled up the end of his coat, showing him a tear. A rock must have snagged it as he slid down the bank, you whispered. You presented it like you’d found a dead bird on the porch.
His hand’s weight came to settle on yours and pushed both them and the offending rip back down. He didn’t care. Evident in the sincere and calm smile he gave you. A giddiness in his eyes the only tell that his heart was pounding. Alastor let his back rest against the sharp slope of the hill to escape the full reach of the warm street lamp’s glow and you followed.
In that silence between you was something else you didn’t recognize until it fully materialized; safety. It’d visited you in fleeting moments through life, but in that moment it’d come to settle like a rock. Unlike the one who tore his precious coat, any sharpness was hand chiseled by Alastor, surely.
Alastor flourished in the tension before a kiss. An anticipation mirrored in the moments before the killing blow. The will he or won’t he in the other person's eyes. Daisies had fields and water lillies had still waters and Alastor had prescience. You often robbed him of his arena with your unpredictable nature, but that was, as people said, the zest of life.
Except right now. Now you let him have his slow lean towards you.
As he got closer the question moved from will he to where will he?
Just beside your ear, close enough that his breath made you shiver. Alastor deeply enjoyed the ways he could make people’s bodies respond to him.
But then a light shone down onto the crowns of your heads and interrupted the fun. Alastor squinting to try and see past it.
“You again? Geez…you’re becoming a nuisance. Get a room, sir.” The cop shouted down the incline. “And have a little more self respect, miss.”
You moved to sit up and shout back at the man about respect but Alastor’s hand came to set on your arm.
“Thank you officer!” He nodded away the cop’s look of disapproval and waited for him to go back to looking for the box’s patrons.
“Do you think it’s him who sent the raids?” You asked when the cop was out of sight, “My former fella.”
Alastor shook his head no, “Mimzy’s had three bars raided. This was definitely just a consequence of her loose lips.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When you made it home and did away with your coats, Alastor poured you both a nightcap. You were leaning against the back patio railing when set down the glasses and pulled you into a hug.
“I should apologize for always magically summoning the police.” He beamed, all charm. “How should I show you? A good cuddle?” His nose knocked softly against yours as he teased another kiss. You could tell by his smile you’d be swept away if you let him continue.
“No, nope. I’m not letting you distract me any longer.” You pushed him away with both hands and made a beeline inside for the kitchen. He leaned back to watch you through the screen door.
You stretched up and over the counters, pulling out a small vase he forgot he had, and grabbed the paper bag from beneath the table. He could only see your back as you fiddled with it on the table before marching to the sitting room. Taking a few steps forward, he could see you through the window now as you unsleeved a record and inspected both sides before setting it down and lifting the arm to place the needle.
A trumpet played and buzzed through the speaker. As a song he didn’t know began to play he turned back to see you at the screen door with your little vase of flowers.
Alastor was taken aback. A new sight. A new thing to dream about. You in the glow of the dim kitchen light, it bouncing off the back of your silhouette as you looked at him like a shark was in your tub; unnecessarily scared.
Music drifted through the open window to his right. Extending his arm, he beckoned you to him.
Lead feet made you nearly trip with your first step.
Your hands were trembling as they gripped the glass and brought the flowers up.
“What's all this?” a little nervous laugh as he looked down at the bouquet you fussed over at the shop just some hours before. How many hours exactly was lost to the bootleg hooch. “Red Tulips. Wild roses. Daisies.” you pointed them out just how the shop attendant had for you, “And cornflower.”
Alaster smiled over them and then back to you.
“For you.” You lifted them just a tad higher.
“Oh!” He cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his pants before gingerly taking them from you. “That happy I didn’t kill him?” Alastor joked, knowing you had to have gotten them before you learned of the newest developments.
Your throat was closing. Well, it felt like it was.
Looking up, there he was. As brilliant as in the sun, dim light casting sharp shadows across his face as he brought the bouquet up to his nose. The light passed over his glasses as he did so, and when his eyes flitted back up they looked over the rims and down to you. Your heart skipped a beat as a new rhythm took it by surprise.
“And the– I heard it. This song. And I thought you'd like it. So.” You fidgeted, tapping the back of one shoe with the toebox of the other, “I got it for you. As a gift. It’s pretty new, by Ozzie Nelson, whoever that is.” He laughed at your flippant description.
His head turned slightly to the sound before setting the flowers on the porch banister. The speaker popped a little with the tune.
Stars shining bright above you.
He put his hands out to ask you to dance, and you eagerly took up the offer. It bought you a little time. While you danced, you could think.
Nightbreezes seem to whisper I love you.
Fuck.
Say nighty night and kiss me.
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.
While I'm alone and as blue as can be.
Alastor wasn’t listening as intently as you were. His palms could feel you beneath your dress, feel the shape of your hips as you lazily swayed together to the song.
When had he last received a gift, he wondered as you chewed on your bottom lip. He couldn’t remember. His swaying slowed as he reached back into his memories. No, he really couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a present. Had anyone ever given him flowers?
No.
He was brought back to the moment when you leaned forward, pressing your cheek against his collar bone. He shook away the thought and resumed the slow move from left to right. Your feet did little steps in the same direction. It was dancing enough for you both. The porch wasn’t exactly conducive to a lively foxtrot and your tipsy body wasn’t up for the turns.
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear. Still craving your kiss.
I'm longing to linger til dawn, dear.
What time was it, you wondered. Was it almost time for the sun to rise? No, it couldn’t be. Would it be more romantic to wait for that? That was what people liked in these moments, special light.
You were overthinking it, looking for an excuse to delay it.
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you.
“And what's the occasion? I’m the one who owes you flowers.”
His chest rumbled and you inhaled the scent of him. What if you said it and you never got to get this close again?
What was the better world to live in…The one where he was yours, or the one where he knew he was loved?
Dream a little dream of me.
It was too much to bear. The feeling was crowding your chest and stealing your air. Obviously the better world was the latter, and now you were holding up its descent. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer or the words themselves would slice through your throat. The song ended and the speakers popped as the record finished its rotation.
Like a wolf showing its neck you filled the silence with vulnerability, “You know I love you, right?” You couldn’t muster the courage to look at him. The entire world was spinning but the swaying stopped. “It bears repeating, so, listen up. I’ll always meet you where you are. Don’t go feeling around in the dark for me. I’ll find you, I’ll wait around the nearest corner or in the car or wherever. Because I love you. Terribly. Against my will.” You swallowed hard but your mouth was dry, “Now and forever.” What a terribly uncomfortable thing to say, what a horridly sensitive wound to inflict on yourself. A fresh expanse of exposed nerves and muscles.
A practiced author would call it a whirlwind romance, but that didn’t capture the violence that tangled you two together. A maelstrom love.
He didn’t say it back. He didn’t say anything at all. His eyes were heavy as he brought your knuckles to his mouth and kissed each one. That didn’t sting or alarm you. You hadn’t said it to hear it back. This wasn’t a token slid to him for anything in return this time. You said it to make sure he knew. If anything, you hadn’t really expected the sentiment to be returned. Because it hadn’t ever been about you, love apparently never was.
Alastor was too scared to speak, too overwhelmed to reply. You’d said it first, atleast, you’d said it thinking you had. A weakness came over his muscles and for a flash he thought he'd go weak in the knees. But what you said stirred a fire in his chest and he didn’t know what to do with it. Too many words crowded in his guts and choked at the stop gap that was his own throat. Words were, as they rarely were for him, useless. So his hands slipped down your body, then back up, and he found your cheeks despite his eyes still hiding in the shadow of his lashes. He leaned down to meet your lips and pressed into them. Chaste, as if neither of you had ever kissed anyone before. He hoped at that moment he’d never have to kiss anyone again.
No, he decided at that moment he never would. A relief. A heavy load he could set down. You felt the little self assured smile against your mouth.
He needed to move, fresh electrical impulses twitching down his spine and igniting that little wool string of fear. So he took a few steps backward, bringing you with him, and let his hands cage you into more desperate kisses as his back pressed into the wall. The passion was mounting with every return, his tongue willing your mouth open so he could retreat into the honesty of your body. Pulling away, you took his face in your hands too.
“Do you want to keep going?” You asked, feeling his hips move to grind up into you. He nodded, his smile small and tight. His lips were barely visible. “You know you don’t have to, right? You don’t owe me anything. My love isn’t….there are no strings attached.” He nodded again. His eyes were shining, the light of the kitchen giving them a comforting and golden band. Were they wet or just bright? “Do you want to …talk?”
His smile widened, and he shook his head no.
“Then we won’t talk.”
The expression on his face was enough for you. His eyes soft and half lidded, pupils blown. You never knew what he saw when he looked at you like that, but you knew you wanted to be whoever it was. The corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly with his smile, which was pure and sweet. He was happy, and that was all you’d wanted. All of it in your hands. No fireworks, barely a moon above you both.
You’d really not wanted to mingle the words with the actions. But Alastor’s assurance reminded you that you weren’t alone in the situation. Maybe for him they were already entangled together. Maybe he wanted them to be. You stopped acting as a monolith long ago, whether you had felt comfortable admitting that until that moment or not.
He dropped slowly down to his knees, you following with your mouth on his. With a crawl, he leaned forward and you leaned back until you were lying down.
It wasn’t quite as deep as that for him, instead acting on instinct with the magnets in his fingertips unable to break the pull and separate from your skin any longer. He was going to find out now, for the first time, if he could feel love. Could he translate it from his mouth through your skin, words unspoken still? The gasp you made when he licked up your neck made him confident he was saying something. He didn’t want to get off in that moment, nothing about you was screaming sex, but there was no earthly method he could express the way your confession made him feel. He needed you close. He needed you closer than anyone had ever been, and your words had already pulled him skin deep. Perhaps now, in this moment, if he had sex with you he’d find an unseen depth of comfort in your embrace than he’d felt before. A new level of connection for him to feel held by.
People had said they loved him before, but it was just words. It was the next thing to say before I do and it's a boy! They had loved well pressed clothes and a shiny smile, quick fingers over keys and a pretty voice. Such love was nothing short of tissue paper wrapped around a gift he didn't want; a promise of a boring and hidden life.
He wondered why you always told him to not seek you out. He had no plans on leaving, and if he ever lost you in the crowd like he had tonight, he’d still wander around for you. It was a silly request. You might as well ask him to not kiss your forehead before sitting on the sofa beside you or to not smile when you smiled.
So clever but so naive.
Please.
His nose nuzzled behind your ear, a voiceless whisper. His hands were scratching down your thighs and over your stockings, surely snagging the delicate weave.
Closer.
Hastily you rolled them down and did the same with your panties, Alastor seemingly too focused on gathering as much of your body into his arms as he could physically manage. You gasped when two firm hands slipped under you and pulled your ass off the porch to press up into his core.
Alastor drew his knees forward to kneel, dragging you up into his lap by the hips. Back bending, you looked up wordlessly as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“It’s cold.” You whispered, no hint of wanting him to stop but genuinely concerned for his comfort.
I’ll make it warm reverbrated across time, a little changed but the promise still intact that Alastor would heat up the cold with embraces, sexual and otherwise.
“Oh!” You squeaked, realizing this was your cue to start undressing too. You ignored the burning in your thighs at the position and reached for your own buttons, a long line down the back meant for women with husbands as it was impossible to do up alone.
As he leaned over you and hot palms slid up your arched back, his face came close to yours. No scared deer in the headlights. He looked much more self assured than something built to flee.
Ah.
Right.
An image of clashing antlers and the ringing crack they produced blocked out your second squeak as you were pulled up to be chest to chest. Arms snaking around his neck you held on tightly as he worked on the buttons for you.
His chin rested on the taut muscle that connected neck and shoulder, breaths even and hot slipping down between the skin of your back and dress as the clothing loosened under his grip.
A flutter of nerves filled you both. The space between romance and sex was always a no man’s land for you two. You preferred to rush through to the act, and Alastor struggled with transitioning loving touches to wanton ones.
But you didn’t feel that awkward gap now. Alastor seemed very confident in his movements, marching across that space to take you from love to lover.
He couldn’t see your smile as he undid the dress. This was a good answer, you thought. This didn’t feel like him pushing to give you what he expected, like he had always done with the others. It felt, very honestly, like someone wanting to do the dreaded thing you always avoided; make love. You couldn’t say you had ever thought what made fucking and love making different, you just knew you hadn’t cared for mixing sex with emotion. But this was all emotion now. An act of surrender for you, an act of commitment from him. A deep slow breath to steady yourself. You’d give him whatever he wanted and needed. And if that was more than you’d managed before, you’d find a way to be more than you had been. You could still be yourself. Just…a little extra. For him. When he pleaded so sincerely.
You rose on your knees to lift your center from his lap, allowing him the space to undo his belt and free himself from his pants. His hands moved under the curtain of your dress and you kept your eyes on the wall behind him. Looking him in the eyes would happen, you knew that, but you weren’t ready to get stuck in his stare just yet.
Clinging on to his shoulders you worked together to lower yourself back down, a slow seating down onto his member. You swallowed a gasp and let your body weight fully settle. An ache radiated from deep within you as he bottomed out and then pressed further with your relaxed form giving way. His hands slipped up your back and held onto your shoulders, face pressed into your neck and tickling you with every breath.
Your body pressed tightly against his, you found the space to lift up and drop. Reluctantly, Alastor loosened his grip to allow you more freedom of movement. Just enough you could get more height and not an inch more.
The burn in your thighs and the sting of your knees digging into the old wood patio quickly fought for your focus. But then your riding produced rewards, Alastor’s breath coming out ragged and weak. His own little gasps each time you took him back in fully escaped to your pleasure. You were warm and clinging, inside and out, and Alastor found the base of his skull beginning to feel fuzzy. All that lightning was now in his lap and leaving his mind to go slack as if in a tepid bath. He liked this part, where things could go quiet internally except for the most basic of senses: touch. You were all around him, and that was satisfying him so completely he worried he’d run out of things to seek out in life. A small worry that came and went as quickly as your hips began to move. Fast and even.
He could say with confidence you hugged him in a loving embrace and it let his body relax into the moment. The gasps and dryness of his lips went unnoticed by him. But not you, if you closed your eyes all you could hear was his breathing. Instinctively your arms tightened until you were holding his head to you. Sex with Alastor never felt like being fucked. Like being used as some sleeve for a man. You always felt like you were receiving much more from him, never like you were giving. Except now, with how his lips left lazy open mouth kisses on your collar bone, it felt like you were providing him with something.
Alastor pulled away and you slowed before stopping in response. The part you knew would come, because you knew Alastor. Both hands took your face for a proper kiss. His lips stuck a little to yours, but he licked them and tried again. Such a slow kiss for the occasion, passion could be languid when you had the time for it. And you had nothing but time now. That was what you promised him when you confessed, to be there through time now and ever.
He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. This was intimacy, this was what existed between you both as something was communicated from his eyes to yours. The instinct to look away was clawing at you but you fought it. His eyes were so beautiful, even in the dark. That was how you first saw them, in the dark of an alleyway.
Without warning he broke the longing look and kissed you again.
Forever, you’d said. And Alastor held those words as tightly as he held you now. Forever was all that he needed.
His tongue roamed around your mouth hungrily.
Closer.
Your own hands held tightly to his head as he leaned forward. Gently, his kiss slowing as he focused on setting you down on the porch, you were returned to your back. It took strength to do it so smoothly, that hidden muscle that betrayed his slender frame.
Letting him take the lead was easy, in that moment every move dripped with an arousing confidence. The sweet gasps melted into tiny grunts that made you clench around him, the kiss breaking with his thrusts.
His belt was cold, hitting against the top of your ass with every slap of his hips. You used the heel of your shoe to try and push his pants down further but didn’t get far. You whispered a ‘fuck it’ and let your legs hug onto him.
A rain of ‘please’ fell from your mouth, begging him to maintain that strong even pace but also praying he’d finish inside this time. You wanted that liquid heat pooling in your guts.
Alastor wanted to kiss you more, but he knew better than to interrupt his rhythm. He wanted to feel you spasming around his cock, feel your body tighten and go stock still under him.
Maybe he imagined it, maybe it was your slight embarrassed blushing, but you did feel different. He could have sworn you felt warm, softer. He felt he was getting lost in your touch like someone losing their way in the safety of a well maintained park. No danger, but no idea where he was or what he was really doing there. But it was lovely. That midsummer day glow and warmth you could only enjoy in the shade of tall trees.
There he was again, mind wandering with flashes of beautiful places and sensations as his muscles began to tire.
You bit your lip and tensed your core to help along the rising pressure. Fingers raked down his scalp and neck as you crossed the peak and came on his slowing cock.
A second was given to you to come down before he began his own finish.
It didn’t take long for his hips to go weak and for him to lose his rhythm. Apart from you, the sensation of a wet and writhing organ against his slit was vaguely alien and gross. But your twitching insides was a trophy he was always eager to earn. He had to lean back which meant your chest making contact with the cold air that filled the void. His handkerchief was quickly pulled from his chest pocket and brought to his cock as he managed to hold off cumming until he was safely free of you. It worked poorly, semen leaking through the threads and sticking to his hand. He hissed but wiped his hand clean the best he could on the handkerchief’s edges.
Alastor leaned over and kissed your cheek, and then your nose, and then because he felt the compulsion, your already kiss swollen lips. When he moved his head to carry on down your collar bone you unclenched your eyes. You could see the flowers above your head on the banister.
You remembered reading The Language of Flowers poster to the florist as you chose your bouquet. When she pointed out each one to you, you repeated the meanings in your head.
“Red tulips,”
I declare my love.
“Wild Roses,”
I love you truly.
“Daisies,”
Pain and Pleasure.
“And, lastly,” the shopkeeper sounded sentimental as she gestured to the blue petals, “Cornflower.”
Be gentle with me.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･
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♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Two♱
Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Two Warnings: profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post
♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱
[Chapter Two]
“[name]!”
You turned your head, before seeing Emily racing towards you to tackle you to the ground in a hug. You laughed, although it came out as more of a wheeze under her crushing grip, and hugged back. She raised her head, eyes watery.
“Adam said you disappeared,” she said, and the barely restrained fury at him was evident in her voice, which dropped to an incredulous whisper. “Where were you? What happened? Sera’s mad as hell-“
“He didn’t leave me,” you managed to crack a reassuring smile, and Emily’s shoulders drooped at your next words, “I flew off.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that he neglected his responsibility. And, frankly, ignored my direct orders to keep you safe.”
You raised your head to see Sera, her forehead creased in a stressed frown. “Come with me to my office.” She began to turn, then paused, eyebrows pulling right down, deepening her frown. “Is that blood on your clothes?”
You glanced down. The dark patches seemed to be covered with a thin gilded sheen. “I-it’s nothing, really,” you babbled, scrambling to wipe it off, only to see most of it had dried.
Sera didn’t seem convinced.
Emily pulled you up before you followed them hesitantly, the confusion on her face at the situation evident, even though she was smiling at you nervously. You gulped.
Charming.
♱♱♱
“So, to be clear, you let [name] fly off and put herself in harm's way even though she has no experience as an exterminator?” Sera turned from Adam to you. “[name], this is only a one time thing. You are most certainly not accompanying the exterminators down to Hell next year. After Adam has proven how neglectful he is-“
“No,” you gasped, the words flying out your mouth without you even thinking about them.
The entire room seemed to freeze.
Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and continued, more gently. “No, it wasn’t his fault. See, what happened was-“ you glanced over at where Adam was seated next to you. He raised an eyebrow, face flat, and you swallowed. Your throat felt like a desert.
“I flew off,” you continued. “He went after me, I mean, he really tried I swear. But I shook him off and ended up tearing my wing on a branch, hence the blood- he found me a while later and healed me up. The wound wasn’t too serious. It only broke some skin, and- and, I could still fly. We just lost each other in the crowd going back up to the Pentagram is all.”
What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? You could almost feel the beads of sweat forming on your brow as you smiled at her stiffly.
Sera turned and looked at Adam, waiting for his confirmation. He looked over at you, grinning wide. You pointedly stared back, which wasn’t necessary- he didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s what happened. I was tryna tell ya the whole time and you guys just weren’t listening.”
“Please let me go next year, Sera,” you pleaded, eyes widening. She chewed her lip, contemplating, as you continued. “I was perfectly fine. And I may not be an experienced exterminator, but you know more than well enough I can hold my own against a couple of mere sinners.” You shot a look at Adam.
”Yeah, [name]’s powerful as fuck-“
“I wouldn’t say powerful-“ you began, but was cut off by Sera.
“You’re far too modest, [name],” Sera smiled at you tiredly. “And what you said seems to add up. I know you’d never lie to me-“ she side-eyed Adam, who didn’t notice, continuing to pick at his nails. “-Or to anyone, for that matter. Yes, you may go again next year if you wish.”
You looked at the ground. “Thank you, Sera,” you said, your own voice ringing small in your ears.
♱♱♱
“Jeez, sugartits, I didn’t think I’ve ever heard you lie before,” Adam smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You glared at him in fury, before jabbing a finger at his chest. You were both in a hallway, Sera’s office door at the end of the corridor where you had come from.
“Watch it, Adam,” you hissed, then took a deep breath, calming yourself down. “I did it for you, so be grateful.”
“…thanks.”
You smiled at him. “No problem.”
You both stared at each other for a few moments, before Adam spoke.
“Are we gonna fuck right now?”
“No!” You hissed, exasperated, feeling your face burn. “No, we are not. Here’s what is gonna happen, Adam. Next extermination, you’re gonna let me fly off by myself, mind your own business, and not tell Sera, and if you don’t do that, I’ll blab and tell them everything. And then they’ll hate you forever.”
He stared at you for a second, blankly. You gulped, your blood pounding in your ears. Crap. Dumb idea-
Adam finally raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to go off sneaking around Hell during the extermination, sugartits? Got a secret?”
“Most certainly not,” you snapped. “I simply want to explore Hell alone.”
Adam stared at you for a moment. “You never say what’s on your fuckin’ mind, do ya, sugartits? You always gotta water it down to be nice. If I annoy the shit outta you, just say that.”
Your gaze softened, then you shook your head and stared at your feet. “I’m not a mean person.”
“Not mean if it’s the truth.” He shrugged. You looked back up at him. He was wearing that familiar, shit-eating grin again. You huffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at the pristine floor.
“Sure. Well, some people have a filter.”
“Meh. Whatever.”
“So, will you do what I asked you to do?”
Yeah, I’ll do what you want.”
“Wait really?” You stared at him.
“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck. Do what you want, you saved my ass from a three hour lecture back in there anyways.”
You watched him walk away until he rounded a corner and disappeared, shocked at his nonchalance, and then pressed your back to the wall and sank down, head in your hands.
Did you seriously lie to the Seraphim just to be able to go back to Hell next year? Why? Why?
Was it because of- no way. Don’t be ridiculous. You knew Lucifer had the quality of being ‘tempting’, from what the Bible said, at least, but there was no way you were being led to temptation from a small interaction with absolutely no ‘tempting’ aspects to it. Whatsoever.
Hell is a nice break from Heaven. And it’s interesting to see what it’s like. I’m just curious is all…
You stared at your hands, mind flashing back to something Sera had said a while ago.
Curiosity killed the cat.
“[name]?”
You looked up. Sera was staring down at you. “Are you alright?”
You cursed internally, your heart almost leaping out of your throat. “Yes, Sera, I’m just… thinking.”
“Perhaps I could help?”
You studied her face. It was wearing the specific, reserved look she wore for when she was suspicious but didn’t want to show it. You smiled and shook your head.
“I’m just trying to figure out what I ate this morning that could make my stomach hurt this much.”
Sera’s face relaxed, nodding. You knew that she wouldn’t believe that you’d lie to her. You knew it would be easy to squash her suspicions.
“Well,” Sera said, “Let me know if you need anything.”
You nodded smiled weakly again, watching her steady, deliberate steps as she disappeared around the corner, then hung your head again, sighing.
You prayed you weren’t digging yourself into a hole.
♱♱♱
A/N: Stay Tuned!
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My first crushes ever TOGETHER!?
DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE dir. Shawn Levy (2024)
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