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ment-llyunstable · 2 months

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Sugar on the Cream!

Alastor x Reader Synopsis: Alastor found out about your powers and decided to take matters into his own hands to reestablish who's in charge at this hotel and that he was perfectly capable of destroying you. A warning to not try any funny business, though who's to say he didn't find the threat of you being more powerful absolutely enticing. Themes: +18, Slight Dubious Consent, Bondage, Breeding Kink, A/B/O Dynamics, Dominant Alpha Alastor, Alastor feeling threatened, Reader with Deal Breaking ability, AFAB Chubby Reader, G/N Omega Reader, Black Bear Reader, Cervix Penetration, Stomach Bulge, Knotting Word Count: 4,195

A/N: Not beta read!! Also, I know Alastor is canonically aro/ace. As someone who is aro/ace, I enjoy the representation. This is fiction for funsies. Being aro/ace doesn't mean you can't have sexual relations or romantic ones. Respectfully, we should recognize we all ship characters with whatever sexuality is canon, with the opposite of that canon. Like Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless. Canonically, Dream has only ever been with women, he had a wife, etc. Like, let's not try and pretend we don't disrespect canons all the time and stop trying to be 'allies' or 'heroes'. It's fiction. It's not the Hat fic and writing like this isn't invalidating aro/ace ppl in any way imo. If it was, we could say all the Bakugou x Deku shit is invalidating the obvious crush Deku has on Ochako so we should all stop then, huh? Naw. My opinion so whatever. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Let me know if I should continue. Got a few ideas for this. but nothing concrete.

"𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄'𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙨 𝙦𝙪𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙣. 𝙊𝙝, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣!"

You weren’t sure how you got yourself into this situation. Well, you knew how, but to have the Radio Demon with his full attention on you, hand down your pants with fingers teasing and coaxing blood to the tiny nub of pleasure to life, was something you’d never thought would or could happen. You’d even witness him actively avoiding all physical contact around the others and keeping a distance between them at all times. You’d only ever seen Nifty be the only one who could lay a hand on him without him looking like he was repulsed behind gritted teeth.

You thought he was just annoyed by you as a person, but the dots slowly clicked as your mind raced to think of what could have possibly required him to want to entertain you in this way. The only thing you could think of was the Radio demon had heard you expressing your powers, in private, to Charlie. You knew it had been best to do so alone, not wanting to become a pawn to any prying ears, especially as an unclaimed omega. You didn’t think your powers would’ve been one to issue such a strong, sexual response from the demon whom you’d heard wasn’t interested in such flights of fancy. Plus, it wasn’t like you knew really how to use it as well and it wasn’t like you had been the nicest smelling omega around. You had only been staying at the hotel at most about four months, only discovering it after the whole fight the hotel had against Heaven.

Alastor’s claws must’ve been retractable, the digits were meticulously placed with firm pressure, switching between circling and up-and-down motion on your throbbing button. He leniently alternated to stroking around the bud and a bit down, not quite to your entrance, but in an attentive manner to figure out what you fancied. You could hear soft jazz in the background. You’d been placed upon his lap, facing away from him with both of your thighs on each side of his, those long legs of his making it difficult to try and close yours. You were trapped in the spot by onyx tentacles; one wrapped around each calf and a thicker one that squished into your plush stomach. Alastor’s free arm was wrapped-up around your upper torso, his large hand grasping your neck as if to dare you to try and escape. Your scent was rising in the air, the smell of chamomile, frankincense and sandalwood clouded the room. It was tainted with the sweetness of arousal, usually a more subtle scent combination for an omega but you’d never heard any complaints. For Alastor though, it was overbearing on his senses - it had reminded him too much of his human life and now to have it unfiltered between you was near deadly. Oh, how it fueled a fire you didn’t even know was there. Sure, you could appreciate the handsome, charming demeanor that was inherently Alastor, though his off-putting behavior and remarks had been enough to warrant a bit of distance. You were just at the hotel to help sinners and by the sounds of Alastor’s cackling of others pain, you could grasp easily you were not on the same page. There had been no need to engage besides pleasantries and his passive, condescending mannerisms was a deterrent.

But, here you were with your pussy being flirted with by someone who you should be absolutely terrified of. However, you weren’t though, you weren’t dumb enough to not be cautious. If you were correct on your assumption, you knew you held a sort of bargaining chip he wanted, which had been the initial interest in you. You had been unsure if his intentions had been only business, nevertheless this event was telling more had been involved and brewing in Alastor’s head. This situation wasn’t supposed to be happening to begin with. He’d tempted you into a simple chat in his radio tower, only to corner you like this. If anything, you’d hoped he would have fessed up and tried to make amendments for his strange and creepy stalking behaviors. You knew he wouldn’t apologize for the added passive aggressiveness he displayed when having to interact with you so that was out of the question.

“Do you think you can get in the way of my charity project here? Do you think you have the right to threaten me?”

Alastor asked this, his radio filtered voice animated and joyful though it covered obvious annoyance.

The pressure of two of his fingers were becoming more intense as he sped up. A warm tingle spread like wildfire from your fingertips to your toes, igniting every nerve ending in a fiery blaze. Your heart raced in your chest, a primal drumbeat of desire that pulsed through your veins with a delicious urgency. You couldn’t stop the gentle, breathy pants that escaped your parted lips, hips twitching. You could feel the gentle caressing of his breath on top of your head and forehead, his lithe body being much taller and bigger than your plump, small one, so he had to crouch over your form. He was watching you with zealous eyes and a fervid smile.

“N-No, of course not. That’s not why I came to the hotel, Alastor. I wa… I wanted to help Charlie.”

You weren’t lying. Your ability came with smaller powers that were much more laidback than breaking soul deals. Sure, you had a few souls under your belt from when you’d first arrived in hell and unleashed your Justice upon one unlucky demon who you saw treat those who he owned unfairly and abusively. It had been the leader of a small gang that had been trying to establish a selling ground and you'd walked by to see the leader beating on a smaller demon who was desperately trying to explain that they'd gotten robbed. The anger you’d felt came out and it unleashed your wrath, a manifestation of a sword that cut through the chains. Those poor souls you set free gave you theirs as payment, seeing you’d never do such harm to them like that, that they could be free and never scared into having to sell their soul again to some awful sinner. You made sure they never told anyone of your powers and that they could have their freedom without you dictating or needing them. Your secret was safe. You had learned enough in your time in Hell to know how a sinner became an Overlord and the politics around it. That just wasn't your cup of tea. Nonetheless, you had the additional ability to manipulate auras though you’d only ever used it to calm potential attackers or anyone around you upset. It wasn’t anything too fancy or showy, but it had helped you more times than you could count. Considering yourself and other sinners, a calming energy would be helpful amongst the traumatized. You’d hoped Charlie would be able to use it when it came to her vision of redemption. To establish a safe place to heal, whether it turned to being able to redeem oneself or for just a healing journey. Dying and arriving in Hell was another round of trauma, it didn't hurt to try and work on healing.

Your gaze was all over the place despite wanting to look down to watch his hand in your pants but his grasp upon your neck prohibited in viewing such activities. You didn’t have enough focus to try and calm the radio demon but at this point, you didn’t think your manipulation to his aura would do anything. You hadn’t dared tried it since arriving and since he was already so worked up, it probably wouldn’t do much to deter him from his mission. The static radiating from his body penetrated yours, dancing amongst your skin in light prickles that had your little fuzzy ears cocked forward to listen.

“Oh, dearest. This is my entertainment. Not yours. I don’t enjoy thinking you may try to interfere or overthrow me — I advise you to not attempt your silly little powers on me.”

The grip on your neck tightened, his fingers picking up pace having already started feeling the wetness seep from you. Your arousal and exquisite pheromones were greedily inhaled by the cannibal, to savor the suggestion of a body ready for seed taking. It was a new urge for the radio demon to mark you with his seed, his scent and to taint you in such a ferocious manner.

“My, my. How darling of you to be so quiet and submissive now. Are you frightened?”

Alastor chuckled cheekily, the rumbling in his chest vibrated against your back. You honestly couldn’t care less about what he said, too focused on the quickening ministrations forced upon your now swollen clit. His own scent was filling the air, hitting your nostrils in gentle waves. He smelled of petrichor, the soothing scent before the rain hit the Earth. It was almost ironic.

Your breathing was shortening, the pleasure building with your lower muscles tightening. You weren’t scared at this point, especially feeling his hard dick pressed to your backside and his own arousal contaminating his natural scent.

“Alastor— W-Wait, wait wait-…” Your face flushed with color, you closed your eyes trying to hold back your impending orgasm.

The male hummed, though didn’t stop his fingers as a black tendril slid its way from his side and down your trousers. The pointed appendage slid between your folds, teasing at your entrance.

“I’m afraid there’s no waiting for you, my sweet. Now… cum for me.”

He sounded humored at first, voice dropping an octave as he demanded you to reach your peak. As he said it, his tentacle shoved its way into your cunt, stretching and burying itself deep inside. That pushed you over the edge, the way the tentacle had pushed up against your cervix and caused you to come immediately. Your back arched, pressing back into him with eyes closed tightly and moan muffled by your own stubbornness with a bitten lip and flattened ears. Your cunt squeezed at the tentacle, earning attention from it by starting to move in and out of you with determination. The appendage fucked you through it, the high of your release trying to pass but instead once your cunt was fucked through your first orgasm, there was no stopping the tentacle from sending you straight into another. The second ripped through your body fast and harsh, the wetness audible to both of your ears. Your voice cut through the static with a sudden high-pitched moan, your thigh muscles quaking as you pressed your hips down against his. Alastor paid no mind to your squirming body in his lap, only removing the inky, wet tendril from your hole after your petite form relaxed, twitching from overstimulation.

You were a complete mess at this point; face heated crimson with a light shine of sweat, bottom lip swollen from where you’d fought to keep yourself quiet, eyes half open and dazed. Alastor felt absolutely, utterly depraved seeing you like this. He could see you as equal to or more powerful than him - a righteous and conscientious mess. Never would he think someone so obviously pathetic would have such a power thus a power over him. He wanted you in more ways than one; to own you, to control you, and maybe to let you do the same with him. You’d be the only one who he could judge as worthy of such a thing, outright knowing you’d never give your soul to him.

His hand on your throat released, clawed fingers slid down to the pants you wore and ripped through them easily. Underwear was shredded too, your wet and puffy cunt exposed to the cool air. You glanced down through blurry eyes, to the sight of Alastor using both hands now to grip onto your thighs.

"What a performance! I'd say you deserve a reward for such a treat."

The deer demon used a shadowy tentacle to pull his cock out from between you both, the heavy shaft slapping up against your drenched slit. You jerked at the touch, still trying to catch your breath as you saw the tip of his cock leak, flushed with red and at the base was already the beginnings of a swollen knot. The shape was different than you’d thought it would be, the tip a notably large mushroom shape, the length connecting to it slender before flaring out larger in the middle before the rest of the length connected to the swollen knot. His scent was immensely clouding all your senses now, your omega body responding with profuse arousal. Oh, you wanted him now. It was undeniable of the chemistry of your two bodies, your inner omega preening at the idea of being so wanted and filled by such a strong Alpha. Your little black tail twitched eagerly, your small black ears pressing forward in alertness.

Alastor took your pause as the perfect opportunity to grind his hips up against you, his cock rubbing between your wetness, just slipping between the folds. You were trying to catch your breath still, eyes wide at the fact he must’ve been thinking his dick would fit. Your body was much smaller than his seven foot stature, surely he wouldn’t.

But, he would try. This was power-play at its finest, Alastor wanted to assert his dominance and control over your body. He wasn’t keen on physical contact for sure, using rather violence to instill terror upon those who dare threaten his status. You, however, weren’t phased by his theatrics so now he had to take it into his own hands. You had the one ability that if you wanted to, you could either ruin or save Alastor and that pissed him the fuck off.

"How cute. You're so wet for me."

The slick, lubricious sensation of his dick rubbing against you was utterly divine. You looked up at him, angling your head to the side with flickering eyes along his face. His scarlet eyes met yours, pupils dilated, his sinister grin stretched to its fullest to show his yellow-pointed teeth.

"P-Please-"

"Please, what? Hm? Speak up, you look stupid mumbling nothing."

Alastor opened his mouth, his long and pointed crimson tongue fell out to lick along your cheek. The muscle was smooth and only momentarily a distraction from him lifting your body up enough to start to bury the tapered head of his cock into your heat. Your body tensed at this regardless of the foreplay, your mushy and sopping cunt still resisting such an attempt of intrusion.

“Mmf! Ha… Haa… Alastor it won't -”

“C’mon now, darling. I’m getting in one way or another~!”

He said this in a sing-song like voice, almost chastising you, static rising in sound near the end to emphasize his resolute and unwavering commitment to ensuring his dick would invade your tiny hole. Your head snapped forward, hands grasping on the armrests as some sort of stability. He used your body to bear down at the same time, your cunt forced to accommodate and stretch with a sweetened squeeze once the glans fit. The psychotic Overlord didn’t stop there, no. He knew you could take it, take pain and take what he could give you.

Alastor didn’t give you a chance to soak in the way your pussy quivered in delight at being stretched so wide. He, instead, still holding at your plump waist and pulled you down no matter the resistance. His cock demanded your tight walls to envelope him, the swell of his appendage filling you quickly despite the inevitable ache. You were sure he wouldn’t get all the way down and he only paused once the tip of his dick hit your cervix. The absolute stretch and burn of the demons cock shoved you over the edge again in a premature yet strong climax of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!”

You whined keenly, you nearly couldn’t stop cumming already, he was just so big that his length hit all the right bundles of nerves. Even now though, your pussy lips hadn’t swallowed him full nor reached the top of his knot. Your overly-sensitive and agitated clit thrummed between your legs, the frenzied spasms of your pussy’s muscles enticed a guttural snarl from him.

"Watch your language, omega. It's not very becoming of you."

Alastor’s sharp claws pricked at your clothing, digging more as he started moving your hips, to roll against his in a shallow motion. He didn’t lift you up too much, favoring to keep himself confined as deeply as he could. Your pussy walls made it incredibly hard for him, his focus on the way your pliable, tender cervix felt. Each hit of his tip was a kiss for your cervix to give in, to extend beyond normal measures and make your womb his. Your beseeching, eager moans and squeals left out of your lips, not bothering to saying anything. The sounds of your drenched pussy, strained sobs and skin meeting skin, were desirable compositions to the radio demon.

“Sweetheart, your moans of ecstasy are like a melody to me. I must have you immerse me.”

Alastor dropped the radio filter just at the last word, voice lowered from he usual cheerful and velvety tone. You knew what he meant, your eyes widened with adrenaline and panic. You tried wiggling out of his grasp this time, the tentacles grip tightening and pulling taunt to stop you, the demon laughing in elation as he drove his cock deeper with an abrupt and harsh tug down. This time, the tender and swollen cushion of your cervix gave into his bullying cock, terribly uncomfortable yet endorphin releasing.

You were fully seated on him basically limp, a passive and panting mess with dewy skin. Your raw pussy walls twitched and fluttered around his length, getting used to the strain. His large hands tenderly massaged your sides before merely resting on them. You could hear the static much louder now, his own breathing unbridled and heavy. You were sure if you looked down, no matter the soft meat on your tummy, it would be bulging from the sheer intrusion. You honestly couldn’t get your gaze to focus, overcome by the feeling of blissful fullness.

A drop of drool caught your attention, dripping onto your left shoulder and being absorbed by the dark sweater you wore. He was drooling over the tight, wet heat of your womb and overbeating want to mate you, nearly losing himself to his more demonic and feral form of himself with antlers elongating and scleras filling with black.

“You don't realize what you've been doing to me. Angering me, not even confiding in me - a strong Alpha, of your powers. Always on my mind, always thinking of you. Seems like even now… You have me within your precious grasp, little bear.”

Breathy, hungry - the infernal Overlord shuddered underneath you. He started off easy, controlling your smaller, supple form with his grasp and demonic tentacles. He bounced you up and down his cock, only pulling you up enough to feel the crown of his glans hit the resistance of your cervix with a gratifying suck. It was like your pussy was trying to keep him inside, the walls felt like they were tightening every time he went to pull out whilst your juices leaked and slobbered over his stiff member. This drove the radio demon into an all-consuming, rageful want.

The consuming urge to breed you heightened. He wanted you to smell of him, plump and well fed with a fawn inside your tummy. He already knew how fertile you were, mouth-watering pheromones lush with reminders. Alastor lifted you up, the shadowy tentacles holding on. His hips began thrusting up in a hurried pace. His cock pulled down on your cervix harshly, using your womb as his personal toy. His knot kept catching on your entrance, teasing your folds as a warning to what’s to come.

Each gasp, each moan that escaped your lips was a symphony of ecstasy, a sweet melody of pleasure that echoed through the air like a siren's song. In that moment, you were lost in a whirlwind of sensation. Your every nerve ending alive with the intoxicating rush of pleasure. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. You couldn't deny that there was something intoxicating about the whole situation; the way his body moved against yours, the way his tentacles wrapped around you, the way his breath felt against your skin and how he'd taken all of this pleasure unprovoked. It had been too long since your omegan needs had been drawn out, your heats spent alone and cold.

The radio demon was entranced, intoxicated with your sounds, scent and plushness against him. He couldn’t stop the rest of his obsidian tendrils from finding their way to various places on your body, whether it be wrapping around you or fondling and rubbing your chest, thighs and stomach. Alastor wanted you to know how powerful he was, how he could consume you in all his glorious ways, and be a considerable candidate for a mate. The deer was truly feeling some conflicted feelings. Despite his cruel and domineering actions, there was a part of him that seemed to crave your power, your ability to challenge him, maybe a harbinger for change. You wondered if this was what he truly needed, someone to stand up to him and show him that he wasn't invincible.

You could feel it building again, the all-consuming and concentrated passionate feeling of your sensitive cunt reaching its cumulation.

"I'm going to e a t you."

It was too much, eyes tearful as you felt his cool, wet tongue swipe sloppily at your neck with a gnarling sound. He was lapping and putting pressure on your scent glands, gladly tasting at your sweetness. It was incredibly difficult to not seal this side of the deal, forcing you to have to consider being his mate and manipulated by your own body since the mating tie would have been halfway made if he bit you. His own Alpha chanted and growled 'My Omega. Mine!' internally. His jaw unhinged to latch fully onto the conjunction of your neck and shoulder just below your flavorful scent glands. Alastor’s fierce and sharp-edged teeth sunk in, blood oozing thickly from the puncture wounds. He sucked and kept hold of you like that, enamored with the erotic, ambrosial taste of your blood. Your desperate mewling was nonstop.

"A-Alpha, am gonna cum!"

The pain threw you over the edge and you came hard on his thick cock, your gooey wetness squishing out of you with every snap of his hips. His rough and jarring thrusts increased to fuck you through it. Your pussy was milking him, tightening and releasing his swelling cock - for him was heavenly, pleasure building up as his final push over the peak. He yanked your body down on him to secure his already bloating knot in you earning a debauched, filthy wail from your throat. Your gummy cunt strained and enveloped around him entirely, widely, slipping over his knot as it popped achingly into you. Once inside, the knot expanded, getting larger and larger and forcing your body to accept the wide bulge as it plugged your cunt. Your body tensed with hands grasping at the poor cushion of the chairs arms, muscles shaking violently as you felt his awfully hot, viscous cum enter your womb, filling it full. As Alastor's thrusts slowed, his breathing becoming more even, you knew that this was just the beginning. The power struggle between you two was far from over, and you knew that you would have to be careful in how you handled it.

But for now, you allowed yourself to bask in the afterglow of the encounter, feeling the warmth of Alastor's body against yours, and the heat of his cum inside you. You were slack against him and he fully leaned over you, his cock still leaking in you and his tentacles all stroking and rubbing tenderly along your body. Alastor’s hands slid underneath your top and cupped your belly’s softness, feeling where his dick and cum rested inside you snuggly as he unlatched his mouth from you. Those lean hands massaged the supple, swollen flesh instigating little, satisfied whines from you as you reveled in the mixed scent of blood and sexual afterglow. You were so full of his cock and seed, you knew when his knot went down it would leak heavily out of you.

"Good omega. So good for me, little omega." Alastor nuzzled to your scent gland, avoiding the now drying wound right underneath.

In this moment, you felt a strange sense of intimacy with the radio demon. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but feel a connection with him, a bond that was forged in the heat of the moment. You wondered what would happen next, whether this would be the start of something more, or if it would end here and now. Maybe he’d try to kill you off for good. Who knows.

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spenglersglasses · 28 days

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❤️‍🔥🎙️Hey there fellow SINNERS!!!! 🎙️❤️‍🔥

This is my first and very much-loved endeavor into the Hazbin Hotel fandom!

I know that the canon thought is that Alastor is asexual but in this fic he has a rare change for one person in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

This first chapter is a bit shorter, just for the set up!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠ (Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 1: A Deal's, A Deal...

Also available HERE on AO3.

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

FḼ̯̔̅A̛̮̬̗̓͡S͚̬̹͋̌͝Ḧ̡̡͓̬̙̎͑͋͒͗͜B̥̠̭͇͚̠̉̾̔̏̍͠Á͉̙̌CK̡͔͔̱̘̣͆̿̈̐͗͝

“I know something you don’t know—” Alastor gleefully professed. His voice, rich with a smug assuredness that only he could have. It was the moment he had been waiting for. A chance that fortune had afforded him. Since the moment the head rolled out of Velvette’s filthy hands, he knew he could gain the upper hand and now was his chance.

“Huh?” Charlie asked, looking over to him in confusion as he approached her. That spine tingling smile, seething with intention, spread wide across his handsome face. Though she had been warned numerous times about trusting him, she had to know. She was desperate. Betrayed by Vaggie, getting Heaven’s help was a bust, and the extermination was looming on the horizon—what could he know that could help?

“Those big scary angels are not quite as indestructible as they seem…” he began.

“What are you talking about?”

“...just that you and your little band of misfits might stand more of a chance than you think.” Alastor continued, fiddling with the leaves that hung precariously from the plant on Charlie’s bedside table.

“How? I’ll do anything.” she pleaded. The Radio demon began turning back to face her. Amused with himself for having once again gained the upper hand. Delighted as things began to unfurl in his favor.

“Anything?” He began his eyes growing large. Like deep pools of contemplation. It was clear from the look on his face Alastor was scheming.

Oh fuck, What have I done ? Charlie asked herself, her mind spinning with the possibilities of what he might ask in return.

“Then—let’s make a deal.” he said, bending forward and offering up his hand. Charlie looked down at it with fear and apprehension. Her heart, pounding inside her chest as she replied.

“You want my soul?” she asked him, slowly backing away as he seemed to inch towards her in a fluid, confident motion.

“Your soul….” he began, his voice deepening. His face, turning sinister and cold before returning to his normal visage. “Heavens no! All I need from you is one itty bitty favor.” he explained, playing with her ponytail as he circled around behind her. Charlie tightening up as she felt the heart from the demon's hot breath against her neck. “What's a favor between friends?” he asked, wrapping his arms over her shoulders. Squeezing her tightly against him. His touch, a little too familiar—too intimate.

Charlie quickly pulled away. Feeling a flash of fear spike within her. She felt it—his heart had been beating as fast as hers, but why? “I won’t hurt anyone for you.” she told him. Standing her ground as best she could.

Alastor perked up. Looking up through his brows as he responded, “Who's asking? One favor at a time of my choosing where you harm no one.” he promised. Charlie began chewing her bottom lip as she considered his proposal. Finding it harder and harder to look him in the eye. Though his own red, hot eyes were fixed on her.

“...in return I tell you what I know… do we have a deal?” he continued, spinning his cane and once again reaching out his hand to shake on it. Alastor, knowing full well what he would come to ask in return. Razzle and dazzle growling at him as if they could since his sinister intentions. Charlie swallowed back the knot in her throat. Her people meant everything to her and no matter what he would ask, it would be worth the price of their salvation—wouldn’t it?

“Deal.” she said, her horn buds began to appear. Budding out beneath her blonde tresses. Eyes glowing red as she took Alastor’s hand. As they shook hands, the power between them began emanating a haunting green light. Alastor’s true form, stitched and ominous, flickering before her. His power sealing their agreement—it was too late to go back now. Once a deal was made with the Radio Demon only the soul’s destruction could undo it. The spirits of hell began howling as they swirled around them. The hotel became shadowed in Alastor’s magic, alerting Hazbin’s inhabitants to what had happened.

"No… No!” Vaggie pleaded, racing up the stairs before breaking into Charlie’s room. Horrified to see them hand in hand.

“Right on cue.” Alastor remarked, grinning ear to ear as Vaggie stood dumbfounded in the doorway. Pleased that she was too late to stop it. The deal was done.

- 3 Months later -

“Yeah, well I think it’s a great plan… after all ole’ scales would appreciate the sentiment.” Angel Dust remarked, leaning back against the red velvet cabriole sofa and crossing his legs. He and husk had been discussing a night out for some time. It was clear that while the imminent threat of extermination was over, it was only a matter of time before something else happened. All of them reveling in the calm before the storm, figured it would be a good time to go out and celebrate.

The hotel had just finished renovations. Things were going smoothly between residents, and now was as good a time as any to memorialize their friend Sir Pentious. With a round of drinks and debauchery, Husk and Angel would drag the rest of the crew with them. Even Cherri Bomb agreed to come, feeling the need of a good pick me up and some blow. Sorrowful herself at the passing of her admirer though surely, she’d never admit it.

“Nah… I don’t feel like it. You all go without me.” Vaggie huffed. Chiming up from the bar stool as she waited for the feline bartender to pour her another shot.

Suit yourself.” Hush said, his voice gruff as ever as he handed her the glass. Both he and Angel, rolling their eyes at one another.

“Oh come on.” Angel sneered. They had all been frustrated with her lately. Vaggie had been a bit of a killjoy for a while. Things between her and Charlie never seemed to recover as she revealed herself to be an angel. While Charlie told her that they would move on and grow from it, she wasn’t too sure. Charlie was preoccupied it seemed and even more consumed with her goals than before. Vaggie was beginning to wonder where she fit in—jealous even at the Hotel for stealing away her girlfriend’s attention.

“Listen you gotta let loose toots, might help pull that stick you have wedged in your ass—unless you’re into that sorta thing.” Angel shrugged. Vaggie squinting and mocking.

“Well…” Vaggie began, throwing back the shot of whiskey and wiping the remnants from her mouth on her sleeve. “Fine then.” she reluctantly agreed, the room of miscreants cheering her on.

She was thankful the majority of it remained. Holding the gnawed-on scraps close to her chest, before reading. Thankfully it seemed Emily was making progress. Requesting to speak with the counsel of Archangels.

“Argh, now where did I put that damn thing?” Charlie said, rummaging around her desk. Razzle fluttering around behind her, pieces of paper sticking out of the corners of their mouth. Charlie, turning to face her fluffy royal servant, looking guilty as sin. “Did you? Ah!” Charlie groaned, sending them a stern look, half smiling at their antics before finding the chewed-up letter on the ground.

The letter was the first of what Charlie hoped to be many correspondences from her Angel friend. Knowing that it was important to both of them that they find out the truth behind the exterminations and find out what exactly would allow her people absolution. Though it had been a while since they talked, things had been looking up. The hotel was even host to a few new residents.

Sev and Trix, two twin sphinxlike sinners off the streets, with the most potential. Coming to join them in hopes of avoiding the next inevitable extermination. Not quite the reasons Charlie had hoped to attract guests, but reason enough to start since no one had been officially saved as of yet. Charlie, however, was more determined than ever. If Heaven wouldn’t help her, she’d find another way.

She sat back down at her desk, staring out of her window at Pentagram City. It seemed the Pride Ring never looked as beautiful. Despite the fires and the occasional scream, it was her own little piece of Heaven. Charlie then was startled by the sound of tuning. Alastor was broadcasting something from his tower. The sounds, cracking in and out before finally she could hear him speak.

“Hello my faithful, unsavory auditors!” he crooned. “Don’t touch that dial. You heard right—Alastor your favorite host is back! Stay tuned tomorrow for a Special Broadcast…Ȯ̱͓̻̘̒̃̈́̀͟N͍͂Ĕ̡̼̖̅͞ ̫̺͕̊̌͞Y̞̖̩̜̋̊̀̅͘͜Ō͕͚̭̥͌̋̕Ư̢̧̟̱̪̑̊̀͞ ̫̮͉̀̔̒W̳̖̓̌O̡̫̭͂́̿̉ͅN̦̪̼̬̞̓́͑̚̚'̘͍̈́͋T̻͍́̊ ̗̝͔̀̓͝Ẅ̯A̡̼̮͆̍̄͘ͅN̨͔͌͊T̹̤̪̱̆̈́̑̿ ̭̺̳̃͆̇T̢̥̺̜̂̅̈́̄̊͜Ȏ̩̊͜ ̺͙͒͐̒͢MI̎͢Š̢S͇̠̻̪̈́̓̐̎.” he finished, dropping off air as fast as he came. Leaving the pride ring a buzz with his impending return to form–wondering whose screams would grace the airwaves.

Charlie found herself deep in thought. Ever since they shook hands things had changed, though she wasn’t quite sure how. She found herself often looking at Alastor. At first not thinking much of it, but realizing as he came close to her, that she couldn’t help but feel flush. Rosey-cheeks, more pinkened at the thought of him. That dapper way he had about him and his charming but menacing smile.

She felt ashamed—disturbed even for having the thought. Surely Alastor had no such interest in her. Rosie had all but confirmed as much. Somewhere deep down, however, she wished things might be different.

In quiet moments her mind would drag her down into the abyss. That dark place where her hidden desires to be all consumed by the Radio demon lie. Their flesh melting together as one, with his quick, witty oration tantalizing her ears. His eyes locked on her, and she could almost feel the fabric of his coat beneath her fingertips.

“Argh… what is wrong with you?” she asked herself, holding her head in her hands. Frustrated with herself as she contemplated what he was up to. Her heartbeat, betraying her.

In the recesses of his broadcast tower, Alastor sat back in his chair. Fingers, intertwining as his shadow danced along the walls. Alastor deep in thought as it tempted him to speak. Growing as impatient as he. Subconsciously waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Soon.” Alastor hummed, his shadow smirking back at him. The sounds of crackling and distant radio sounds swirling in the air. Alastor was as powerful as ever and would grow only more so. While he had come close, too close, to perishing at the hands of the Angelic exterminators—the fight wasn’t over yet.

“If they think I can be undone by some uptight, winged twit, Ţ̰̲͕̓̐̌͟͞͠H̪̯̽̾Ë̩́Y̬̌ ͙̮̳̥͋̑̄̽̅͜Ḩ̭̂̾Ā̭̝̯̗͇̾̇̏͡V̤͇̊͌È͙̠̹̐̿ ̯͉͐͆A̖̗̽̿N͔̣͗́̂͜O̟̣̗̟̅̾͂͞T͔͇̋͊H̪̲̾̄E̮̦̬̹͎͊̉̃̀̈́Ř̝ ̨̺̱͑͆̆TH̛̥̙̙̑̀̋͟IN̛̻̬͕̮͋̎̄G̫͇̯͋̾̕ ̱̳̉̆Č̖̣̣̎̂O̧̡̗̖͆͂̅͡M̛̘̫̞̽̓I̢͈̟͐͡͡N͍̑G.” he hissed. Static filling the room as his shadow beamed. Contorting around him as Alastor’s true form came peeking out from within. Laughing at the foolishness of anyone thinning that he was weak—Alastor knew better.

It would take more than that to have him running away, tail tucked between his legs. He had much bigger fish to fry. He was however reminded after the close call that the time to call in his favor was close at hand. Deciding to embark on something, dare he say no one had ever imagined. The clock, ticking in his ears, reminding him that he was on borrowed time. The thought of it engulfed him in flames. Interference and static hissing and cracking as his Shadow disappeared. His antlers, growing in size as his blood began boiling—steaming hot. Angry at his forced servitude to HER.

Suddenly it all went back to normal. Alastor, taking in a deep breath before opening his eyes to the whole of Pentagram City before him. Returning to his usual form, he stood up. Adjusting his monocle and tapping his cane to adjust his voice. His shadow, reappearing as he set his path back into the hotel.

“Seems almost too perfect a chance to pass up my dark, looming friend. Our beloved Princess will have no idea what hit her. Though surely, I won't be getting down on one knee.” Alastor chuckled as he disappeared into the darkness.

Great Alastor, the Radio Demon, would become Prince of Hell. Taking Charlie as his bride.

NOTES:

Ȯ̱͓̻̘̒̃̈́̀͟N͍͂Ĕ̡̼̖̅͞ ̫̺͕̊̌͞Y̞̖̩̜̋̊̀̅͘͜Ō͕͚̭̥͌̋̕Ư̢̧̟̱̪̑̊̀͞ ̫̮͉̀̔̒W̳̖̓̌O̡̫̭͂́̿̉ͅN̦̪̼̬̞̓́͑̚̚'̘͍̈́͋T̻͍́̊ ̗̝͔̀̓͝Ẅ̯A̡̼̮͆̍̄͘ͅN̨͔͌͊T̹̤̪̱̆̈́̑̿ ̭̺̳̃͆̇T̢̥̺̜̂̅̈́̄̊͜Ȏ̩̊͜ ̺͙͒͐̒͢MI̎͢Š̢S͇̠̻̪̈́̓̐̎.- One you won’t want to miss.

Ţ̰̲͕̓̐̌͟͞͠H̪̯̽̾Ë̩́Y̬̌ ͙̮̳̥͋̑̄̽̅͜Ḩ̭̂̾Ā̭̝̯̗͇̾̇̏͡V̤͇̊͌È͙̠̹̐̿ ̯͉͐͆A̖̗̽̿N͔̣͗́̂͜O̟̣̗̟̅̾͂͞T͔͇̋͊H̪̲̾̄E̮̦̬̹͎͊̉̃̀̈́Ř̝ ̨̺̱͑͆̆TH̛̥̙̙̑̀̋͟IN̛̻̬͕̮͋̎̄G̫͇̯͋̾̕ ̱̳̉̆Č̖̣̣̎̂O̧̡̗̖͆͂̅͡M̛̘̫̞̽̓I̢͈̟͐͡͡N͍̑G- They have another thing coming.

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fauvester · 4 months

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PROUD IMMORTAL DEMON WAY 2! BITCHY LITTLE PRINCE!

#svs3 #my silly little MOSHANG BABY!#AS A TAX PAYING ADULT #was just trying to play around with features. what happens when you mix handsome squidward ass ice king and Just some guy #3/4 pose looking over shoulder. game changing novelty #shh. i am working very hard. let me make The same picture over and over again in my 1 hr a day off #his horns grow out (not the impressive antlers of a full blooded demon)#the cheekbones are cheekboning. the freckles are frecklingggggg #hes got his daddys average ass cultivator sword AND ice whips... he doesnt even need the mobei clan martial powers #cause his serve is just so powerful

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superchat · 1 year

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i always forget that alongside all the politics and factions and war in arknights that theres some truly otherwordly horror brewing underneath everything, out of sight. what the fuck is this man

#like what am i supposed to do with this info #yeah theres governments and family lines in a constant cat and mouse power play against eachother #and wars breaking out and discrimination on varying levels and shapes and catastrophes and rock disease #but dont forget the hell demons and portal to hell deep in the arctic lands where civilization has yet to wander #arknights

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fluffypotatey · 10 months

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you ever think about how MK never gets a chance to really define himself?

#had this thought while driving home #like he barely even gets any chance to place some identity other than monkie kid and delivery boy bc he always gets interrupted #every villain has their own preconceived notion on who and what he is #Demon Bull family saw him as a ‘little thief’ and ‘noodle boy’#Spider Queen called him junior or something????#Macky even told MK that he is nothing w/o the staff. He also projected a lot of his anger with swk to MK bc he saw a lot of similarities #LBD did one better and shattered his own self worth by feeding into his insecurities and trying to mold him into her pawn (champion? will w #ever know what she wanted and why she wanted Mac to capture mk and swk???? what was their role that she wanted them to play???)#Azure even tries to assert his own perceptions on MK in the special and oh boy how he snaps back (🥰 so satisfying)#‘Oh there’s nothing mindless about me…friend’ <- one of the rare times MK puts his foot down when other try to assume what he is #I betchu s5 will focus on MK grappling with his identity bc we laid some foundations he is ok with acknowledging it #But actually processing what this meant for him? I have a guess that he wants to avoid that #And the ironic part is that swk (if he knew which I think so) is now the one trying to get MK to communicate his thoughts and feelings #It’s swk who warned MK about the dangers of hiding or avoiding huge issues like having a giant & powerful monkey form #bc swk has spent like the past 3 seasons doing the opposite of what he’s preaching to MK at the special (this is why i love him he’s trying #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk mk #lmk qi xiaotian #qi xiaotian

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selineram3421 · 2 years

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Power

Alastor X Powerful Reader

Part 3

Part 2

Warning! ⚠

⚠ blood/gore, murder, boundaries are ignored and the reader eats a heart ⚠

Both of you continued to run around each other. The shadows still followed you and he didn't get your name. It went on for a while.

Alastor was starting to get a little tired of it though, he wanted a name!

And a name he'll get.

With pulling a few strings, and getting a few demons who owed him favors, the plan was set! You'd surely give him your name after and he'd get to see your full potential.

Nothing could go wrong!

Except everything went wrong.

He did get one thing, and that was seeing some of your power. Some.

He stood frozen in awe (and fear).

The beasts you commanded tore through sinners, ripping them into shreds. Blood and guts covering the ground beneath you, along with yourself.

Not that you cared, no.

In fact, you were laughing at the chaos around you.

Oh. What caused this?

A few of the demons that owed Alastor had tried to do the unthinkable and completely disrespected you.

That's not something you're ok with, noted.

Just like before, the radio demon watched as you moved gracefully. Like a skilled predator hunting and toying with its prey. Everyone would know not to think little of you and you'd make sure of it.

You were livid.

Some demons had the gall to try to disrespect you, trying to touch you, trying to defile you.

Oh no, no, no, no...

You had to teach them. Teach ALL of them that what you were was above whatever stupid sin got them stuck in Hell.

After all, you were one of the most oldest surviving sinners in Hell from the middle ages. One who worshipped the Old Gods before the current became forced into most cultures.

Buildings were in flames and collapsing, beautiful screams were heard, and finally-! Finally, you held the motionless heart of the demon who started all of this.

"Hmm~hm.", you hum a tune, examining the organ, deciding to bite the left side first.

Sinking your teeth into the muscle of it and tearing off the bottom left ventricle. Blood splattering on your face and covering most of your mouth, dripping off your chin.

This reminded you how your earlier years in Hell were like.

It was nice to reminisce the old days when you were an Overlord, taking territory and picking off the others one by one. However, it got boring quickly and you just gave most of it away to a friend with one condition.

Keep the land thriving.

It's a pity they died, the territory was left to rot and was soon taken over by someone else.

Calling one of the large cat like creatures over, the beast lied down in the area with the least amount of blood and you climbed on it to get comfortable as well. Resting on the fluffy being, you leaned back and took another bite of the heart, watching the block and surrounding areas fall apart.

Bodies covering the road, a few still alive and being chased down by the other beasts that you conjured.

"Well, that was marvelous!"

You snapped your head to the side, seeing Alastor.

A feeling in your gut told you that he was the main source of this whole mess.

"What do you want Radio Demon.", you ate another piece of the heart.

"Just came by after hearing the wonderful sounds of agony! Had to see what was going on and I couldn't be more happy with the sight that blessed my eyes.", he said with an innocent smile, which clearly held smugness and mischief.

"You've seen the show and now its over. Leave.", you say and turn away from him.

He didn't take the hint. If you could even call it that with how simply you said that you wanted him gone.

"Oh but darling, I was wondering if you would be so kind to give me your name! I'd be very happy with just that!", he began to walk towards you.

In less than a second you had a hand around his neck, slamming the red dressed demon into the wall of a nearby building. Static filled the air and Alastor looked at you with black eyes, growling.

"The start of the game was fun but after this stunt?", you said and leaned in close. "I'm not playing anymore.", you whispered.

Letting go, you walk backwards and smile. "I'll let you go with this warning. It's the last one you'll ever get.", you say and turn around, walking further away.

Before he could move, you turn around again.

"Oh, and I hope you like that little mark I gave you~"

With that, you disappear into the shadows.

Mark?

After getting to his humble abode, he checked the mirror and saw what you meant by mark. There was a bloody heart that you painted on his throat, one he doesn't remember feeling done.

It would not come off.

"I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss~"

Me listening to a cute love song while typing out a bloody scene.

~Seline, the person.

Part 4

Power ChL🍷 | ML for Alastor🎙

#powerful reader #x reader #gn reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #fanfic #oop they mad #they ain't playing no more #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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smoke-and-silver · 1 year

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Obey Me advertising a BDSM sounding premise of being the master of these powerful demons and then you like..... never actually get to be their master or give them orders of have them serve you in any way is so lame lol

where are the boys who are eager to be ordered around i hate this weird tsundere reluctance/having to literally force them with the pacts where's the enthusiastic participation

really feels like primarily male writers who have that shallow straight-dude understanding of domming and think it's all about brute force and raw power and they don't understand the whole appeal of femdom (MC was initially written with a female audience in mind even if they use gender neutral pronouns) is the thrill of something powerful like a demon WANTING to serve you ENTHUSIASTICALLY and WILLINGLY

where's Mammon carrying his tired master to a bath he drew for them after a long day where's Lucifer kneeling down to lace their heels for them and pressing a kiss to their leg when he's done what about Beelzebub flustering as they pluck food off his plate without asking because he'd be enraged with anyone else but he's weirdly turned on knowing he's providing for them and they're taking it from him like it's just what they expect from him

there's such a weird lack of dom content in a game that advertises itself in such a kinky way

#dare i say clickbaity??#'come play our game you get to be the cool powerful master of these sexy demons'#'.... who never actually seem to want to serve you lmao'#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon

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tswwwit · 1 year

Note

Consorts/concubines/wife turning out to be backstabbers being really common in the demonic world, especially the ones higher in the social ladder, and some demons expecting dipper to be a traitor/backstabber. So demons that had a grudge against bill tried to communicate with Dipper that they're on his side for the betrayal, and dipper who is just starting to learn demonic writing doesn't understand all the subtext and metaphors.

Random Demon:"yes.. With someone so close to bill on our side, our plan will be complete!"

Dipper trying to decipher who is this guy that keeps sending him these cryptic letters and what does he mean by saying "To kill a no leg lizard with fangs is to make a trap with big mouth bird beak and the anger of mice thousands":

Very true! Lovers and partners turning out to be backstabbers is likely pretty common in the demon realm. And idioms and cultural references are super confusing, if you don't have the reference point!

Dipper's left reading about his opportunity to "Be the Urk'lagash of toe tickling' and immediately being

#answers #Dipper picks up the language pretty quick as these things go #But if you've never seen Spongebob you wouldn't have the faintest idea what acting like Squidward means #And if you aren't a demon you *certainly* don't know about the drama with the Charishmiore and the Gh'knalkik #Oh boy that was a whole thing #Dipper obviously goes to Bill to figure out what the fuck #And Bill bursts out laughing #If he's in a generous mood he might even explain what they meant. Not like he has to worry about Dipper getting betrayal ideas in his head #Though Dipper might make a sarcastic comment about it from time to time he *really* doesn't want Bill's job #Which reminds Bill. He should really get Dipper up to speed on some of demonic cultural stuff #A few of them aren't even that gory! He'll love it #Frankly 'the spouse backstabbed them' is likely so much of a trope in demon culture #It's honestly surprising to see Bill Cipher with a cute less-powerful thing on his arm that's *loyal*#Like running into a mother-in-law who's delightful or a royal advisor who puts their whole heart into helping their king #Plays against the common stereotype and surprises many

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goldeneyedgirl · 7 months

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AILess Whumptober Day 27: Locked Up/Immortal

The final entry, late but complete! I figured that I put Alice through the ringer all the time, it might be Jasper's turn. I had a very specific image of how this would look in my head that did not want to be translated to the page. I've also looked at this so long that I cannot look at it any longer.

So, enjoy whatever this is! I hope you all enjoyed Whumptober and were suitably depressed after my contributions to this event my loves <3

iron & stone. (day 27: imprisoned/immortal).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, one-sided vampire alice/demon jasper.

very non-graphic wound description

She finds him in an old church in Tulsita, Texas. It’s a tiny place, one that has less than thirty people.

It’s a grim little town, with worn buildings and cracked roads; the air is thick and hot, even late at night. It’s the perfect place to be forgotten about, to be trapped. It’s a place that feels like it isn’t part of the real world, and like maybe time has frozen.

There’s an edge of dread in the air, and she has to wonder about that.

But mostly, she just feels anticipation.

It’s taken her thirty years to find him, she’s looked everywhere. She’s read everything. She’s recorded all her visions and made all the notes. She’s learned Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin for him. She’s practically a scholar on him and his kind now.

She’s still nervous.

(There are three kinds of demons - the oldest ones who have existed for always, those are the ones that should never been disturbed or called upon. Then there are the ones that are born naturally - very rare but possible. And then there are the ones that are made. Not like vampires - in the demon world vampires are half-breed cockroaches, endemic to humanity, according to the books she’s read. The change isn’t half the pain and suffering that being turned into a demon is - she knows that.)

She walks through forest surrounding the building carefully - it’s unlikely that anyone will see her, but she prefers to err on the side of cautious. Especially since it’s very, very clear that someone does visit regularly (relatively speaking, of course - time moves very differently for immortals.)

The church is thoroughly abandoned, the pews rotten and broken and the floor tiles cracked and scattered - what would have been an expensive point of pride lost to time and neglect. What is left of the prayer books are ruined cardboard covers covered in mould. The altar is pulled right down and destroyed; all but one of the windows is boarded up. Glass crunches underfoot - a mix of the remain window’s panes, and broken beer bottles scattered around.

And as she stands there and looks around, she wonders how anyone set foot in this place, even just to hide and drink, when she can feel his presence right here? That boiling rage, that uneasy feeling in the air - the gift of animal fear, that whatever this place contains is dangerous and they need to run. It’s all around her, yelling at her to leave and never come back.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Edward and Carlisle would be furious she’s come here by herself. When she’d worked it all out, when she’d told them what her visions had shown her, they’d acted like he was dead and gone and she’d just have to get used to walking the world alone. They expected grief and she’d been confused - Carlisle had insisted that he was as good as dead, and Alice needed to make her peace with that.

Alice could never bring him home. That the Cullen residence, the Cullen name, had no place for monsters and terrors and the things that little children hide from. And she had agreed with them politely, told them that she understood. And she did. They had thought she was mourning, taking her time to adjust to what her life would look like now.

Esme had tried to talk with her, but Alice had refused, and just closed herself up in her bedroom. And they had let her be.

They hadn’t expected her to pack her things in the same satchel she arrived with, to leave behind her locket with a letter thanking them for their hospitality; shedding the Cullen name and creed like an unfashionable winter coat.

If there was no place for monsters amongst the Cullens, then she certainly wasn’t welcome. They forget that she was a nomad, a vampire before she arrived at their house with a smile and golden eyes. They forget that she has a whole story before she ever found them, and that it’s not all pretty and kind.

(No place for monsters, when Carlisle went and changed four innocent people without consent? When suicide is a sin and so is murder? That she loves them fiercely but to be a family is to realize that none of them are perfect and holy and unsullied by their nature? The House of Cullen is so beautifully monstrous, she almost feels sorry for them for not seeing that.)

She had made herself once, exactly how she wanted, and she could do it again. Maybe one day she’ll visit them. See if they forgive her. Esme will. Emmett will. Rose might. But Carlisle and Edward… well, it depends on a lot of things.

Like what lies beneath the church.

It takes her a while to find the little trapdoor down into the earth behind the altar, covered with broken wood and tile, and chained up with a shiny new padlock that crumples like paper in her determined hand. The steps down are mostly rotten - slats of wood wedged roughly into the earth - but she is small and light, and slips down easily, down into a cellar dug too deep and too precisely to be created for anything but a very specific purpose, with the little alcoves in the wall with wells of oil to light the way - only a few of them are still barely burning, throwing bizarre shadows onto the walls.

Everything about this is screaming for her to turn back. Every instinct, every sign is telling her to go home. Except…

She saw him so many times, in hundreds of moments that will weave between them. The laughter and the jokes and the love. She’s seen the way he’ll protect her and change her, and she’ll do the same for him. He’ll look at her with loathing and then tolerance and smug power, and finally, soul-binding love and adoration. The scars she’ll bare will be in the shape of his jaw. She’ll trace his scars with her fingers and her mouth and her tongue; she knows all the little pieces of his story - the boring and the ugly and the difficult, as well as the fragments that are light and precious.

She can’t wait.

But this… this part she’s never seen properly and maybe her brain was protecting her.

The room is small, and little more than dirt and stone held up with rotting beams - buckled and warped, but holding steady for now. It smells rotten down here, almost burnt.

And then there is him.

He lies in the middle, on the stone, his head thrown back like a sacrifice about to be cut open in the name of some ancient god. His eyes are closed and if she didn’t know better, she would think he was asleep. She can see him properly like this, the muscular lines of his torso, the tendons in his neck, the strength in his arms and legs. He looks like a classical Greek sculpture celebrating rapture.

Except… there’s pain. The pain radiates off him like heat; most of the scars are old but the wounds are not. Or maybe they can’t heal. Burns and cuts and bone-deep gouges cover every part of him. There’s a tremor to his body that she doesn’t understand.

And then he hears her shoes on the stone floor and he lunges in one swift move, alert and ready, a snarl echoing in the space.

…Or what should have been one swift move.

Instead, it’s messy and horrific and takes her a moment to process, as she tumbles backwards, losing her footing as he comes at her.

He rips himself from the stone, pieces of skin from his legs sticking to the floor when he moves, leaving open wounds that looks almost like burns on every piece of skin that the stone touched. His legs buckle and shake at the sudden movement, evidence that he has not stood in a very long time.

His eyes are so black they look like empty sockets as he looms over her. Blackness spreads up his hands and arms, spidery black veins stretching from his eyes and throat. For a moment, she thinks she catches a glimpse of the wings; ghost-like and ephemeral in the corner of her eye, tattered void stretched over ancient bone, cracking into place no longer than his arm span.

(He’s magnificent.)

And just as suddenly as he hovers over her, he is ripped backwards and hits the floor with a hiss and the heavy clank of chains pulling tight and recoiling. She gasps at his visible pain, the way he struggles to get up, the demonic visage fading back into the skin of a man. A man in the worst kind of pain she’s ever seen.

“Get out.” His voice is hoarse, the kind that hurts to listen to, and he turns away from her. She can see the chains properly now - ankles, wrists, throat, and thighs, all connecting to a back-brace of iron. The wings have sunk back into his flesh, deep scarring almost outlining them on his back, and she hates to think how painful it was to stretch them imprisoned like this.

How long has he been here, like this? As beautiful as he is, she can see every hour, day, decade he’s spent here in the gaunt shadows of his face, in the decay in his clothing, in the layers upon layers of scars and open wounds. His eyes are hard; there is no hope or trust in them at all.

She always knew it would be difficult, but she never counted on what seeing him in this state would be like. How much it would ache to see this bitter shadow of a man, and the suffering he has lived through.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says, sitting up. Her bag has survived the fall, but she prepared for it. Nothing in the bag is breakable, for good reason. He’s liable to get angrier.

“Oh?” He looks at her. “You long for death so badly?” His voice is mocking, but she can hear the strain, the rasp of his agony. He shifts to see her better, and she can almost see ghost of his future self.

“Only of a certain kind,” she murmurs to try and lighten the mood, but it falls flat - he’s giving her the kind of look Edward reserved for fawning classmates, so she feels adequately stupid and regrets being so flippant and crude. “You’re hurt. I want to help you.”

He is so badly hurt. The fresh burns smell like alcohol, raw and weeping blood. It’s oddly matte with no shine, but demon blood isn’t like human blood. There’s also a mottled black mark on his torso that she hopes is some terrible bruise and not broken bone just beneath the skin.

“Go away.” His voice is hard, no trace of the pain or misery he’s experiencing. There is a power and a rage there that makes her skin crawl and every instinct is telling her to run. He glares at her, and his eyes… she’s seen them red and gold and black, but right now they are demonic - a black sclera and pupil with churning red iris. But there is no shine to them, just a void. They scream of danger and she understands a little better why Carlisle warned her so grimly away from him.

“No.” She rummages in her bag. Aro had allowed her to use the library for a whole summer, to learn about demon physiology and healing. He’d been amused by her request - and by the discovery she’d left Carlisle’s family in pursuit of this demon. She knows that he’s already plotting, that nothing he offers is without strings attached, but she’ll worry about that later. She has the knowledge, and that is what is most important. “Let me help you.”

“Why do you want to help me? What do you want?” He’s holding himself oddly, and she realizes he’s trying not to touch the stone again, only the soles of his feet.

“To help you. And to talk.” She checks the bottles have not split in her bag; she’d used old water bottles, and a few of them are warping from the chemicals inside of them. But she’d gone over it a dozen times at least, and these will work. He just needs to let her help. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave. Nothing about this is conditional.”

He stares at her. “You don’t want to be remade?” He asked suspiciously. His breathing is labored. “You don’t want all the secrets of the underworld? Wealth? To live again?”

She shakes her head. “I have money and a home of my own. And I have no memory of ever being anything else but what I am right now. The only thing I want is to help you.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “You say that. But you’ll expect things. Everyone who comes here does. They always want. Humans are greedy creatures and vampires are parasites. You’ll want something, they all do,” he snaps at her and then he smiles, cruel and sharp. “Not many survive being remade. Maria tried to make a dozen of us. I was the only one of my batch that made it through. You have no idea what pain can be.” He scoffs. “Especially if the change was so overwhelming for you that you blocked it out.”

“I know.” She does. She’s read all the written accounts of being remade into a demon right back to some scraps of information from the Roman Empire; the rituals are mostly anecdotal. There was nothing about how it was done; even Aro didn’t have a full copy of how to remake someone. Several of the leads pointed towards the possibility of the remaining instructions being locked up in the Vatican, but even her visions couldn’t decipher if they were genuine or just a rumor.

The fact Maria of Monterrey had found a record and managed to translate it into a ritual that actually worked was awe-inspiring. It made her one of the most dangerous people on the planet - and one of the most powerful.

But the cost of it… how many people had she killed to create Jasper? To create her army? There were the newborn recruits, the blood for the army, and the ones that she tried to remake… that was thousands, more than Alice could comprehend in the scale of human life.

No, she’s not interested. Perhaps she even fears physical pain a little, because she has no memory of human pain, of the change. She’s never bled, never ached, never really suffered like that. And that unknown void of pain, a universal emotion understood by every living thing on the planet… she doesn’t have that.

But maybe…

“I’ve never been hurt,” she says softly. “Not that I remember. I can’t stand the thought of it. That something can feel like that. If I can stop it, I want to. That’s all.”

His gaze burns into her.

“Do you know how many people have come here and promised me things?” He sounds angry but tired. “They’ll free me, they’ll give me money and food and bandage me up. My own army. Girls. Boys. Anything I goddamn want. Do you know what happens to them?”

She sits cross-legged. “Don’t pretend you killed them.”

“You don’t think I could?” The look on his face is dangerous.

“I know you could. I know that if you really wanted to, I would have been dead before I saw you move. I know that you were the most dangerous man in Texas and Mexico for decades before I was even born - before you were remade.

“But I don’t see any bodies. No bloodstains, no bones, nothing left behind. There’s nothing here. Whatever they offered you, you didn’t kill them for it.”

“When I didn’t give them what they want, they left me here,” he says finally. “All of them.”

“Were there many?” That she is curious about. There are a hundred reasons to seek out a demon, but few people are brave enough, and fewer still with the information to find one.

“More than I expected.” He looks at her, his gaze hard and bitter. “What do you want?”

“To help you,” she says obediently. “To get you out of the chains and upstairs; maybe look at some of those wounds? I’m no doctor, but I think I know what to do.”

“And what is your price?” He sounds testy again, and she’s getting annoyed that he won’t listen.

“I’m a cheap date - maybe you can just not kill me? Once you’re free, maybe we could talk for a little while? I have a house we can go to where you can recover safely, if you want to. Otherwise we part as friends.” That would be a disappointing outcome but one she is prepared for. “As long as you’re okay to be alone. I didn’t go to all this trouble to let you go off on your own and keel over in the street dead.”

The surprise on his face is genuine. “I cannot die from this. That’s the whole point of being down here,” he said slowly. “I can only suffer. It would take much, much more to end me.”

He looks sad and tired when he says that, and she wants to hold him. To reassure him that it will get better. It can be wonderful, if he gives her a chance.

“Good. Then if you want to leave me, you can. Just let me help you, and everything will be okay, I promise.”

They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them flinching before he nods his head once.

“I hold a grudge. If you double-cross me…” he begins but she’s already moving closer.

“I understand.” And she does - she’s had visions of him in battle, and the sheer violence and blood-lust had scared her. He is a dangerous creature. But she’d be more likely to rip off her own arm than intentionally harm him.

“You’ll want to take off your shoes.”

It’s an odd request but she takes off her boots and moves forward.

One foot on the stone and she can feel the warmth inside of it; when she looks down, her stockings are already being to singe from the heat.

“Keep moving, or you’ll stick,” he warns and she’s horrified.

The stains on the stone that she had assumed were age were patches of blackened skin still stuck to the stone - his skin - that had torn away from him every single time that he moved.

And then there was the sudden awareness of that fact that his feet have been resting flat against the stone since they’ve started speaking, and she wants to scream, to pry him off the stone herself. She looks at him in naked horror and his lip quirks in quasi-amusement at her expression.

“It’s consecrated ground - no matter how deep it goes, it will always burn the likes of us - me worse than you, but I wouldn’t linger. And no, your shoes wouldn’t protect you.”

Consecrated ground. Fucking consecrated ground. She’d read about it - Europe was lousy with it, but much of it has faded away forgotten and unsanctified in the last couple of centuries as religion has lost its grip on the population. It’s much rarer in the states - most of it is in New England, allegedly. But this perfectly built little prison, complete with consecrated ground… she wants to ask a million questions about the how and the why, but she knows he won’t answer. Not yet.

Right now, she needs to get him off of the floor and out of this evil little room as soon as possible. And the first step is to break the chains embedded in the wall - where a single panel of rock is placed.

She’ll worry about getting the brace off of him once they’re out of here.

He watches her, almost entertained, as she tries to break the links, inspecting the chain carefully for flaws or weaknesses. But even with all her strength, they don’t even bend. They are stubborn and as cursed as this entire basement.

She can feel it - they cannot be broken. She can’t see a way around it.

But when she looks down at him watching her, at his dead-eyed stare of acceptance that he will not be leaving, she feels the weight of what she’s promised him. That he still believes that she will fail and leave him to his fate.

But she was Emmett Cullen’s sister for nearly three years, and Emmett had never met a law, a riddle, a trap or a rule that he couldn’t find a loophole for.

Which is why she brought a screwdriver. An entire toolkit, actually. Whilst vampire strength and speed could fix so many problems, there were some things that required the precision of a toolkit or a lock pick. And maybe the last gift Emmett ever gave her was a mini pink toolkit, and she’d taken that when she’d left.

If there was one thing that all her research had taught her was that magical laws are rigid and precise. The chains will not and can not be broken - that is clear to both of them. She probably isn’t the first that has tried over the years - she could only imagine that he’s tried to free himself hundreds, probably thousands, of times.

So they cannot break them.

She doubts anyone bothered to stop them from being dismantled.

He stares at her incredulously when she pulls the screwdriver from her bag, like maybe she’s some kind of fool. And maybe she is.

But when the first screw hits the stone, she smiles brightly at the look of shock on his face.

“Pick all of them up, I don’t want anyone knowing how we figured this out,” she says bossily, hopping between her feet - her stockings have burnt through, ragged blacked edges having stretched back up above her ankle. She has more clothing at the house, but she’s mildly annoyed at the architect of this building for ruining them. It’s an uncomfortable heat, an odd sensation, but it doesn’t feel too bad as long as she keeps moving.

He fumbles for the screws as each of them fall - they are smaller than it feels like they should be for the size and weight of the chains, but there are so many of them.

And then…

And then the heavy chains drop free of the wall, and he is free. He stares at them in total bewilderment before he looks back up at her.

“Now you’re free,” she says breathlessly, jamming the screwdriver into her bag, and goes to help him stand. He’s unsteady but takes a deep breath as he begins to peel his feet from the stone. It’s horrific as the skin of his soles tears away, blistered and raw but not yet blackened, thankfully. He lets out a groan of pain, one that makes him sound every single day of his age, every single day of his pain.

She doesn’t say anything, she just supports him until they are finally, finally back on the dirt floor.

“Do you want to sit?” She asks quietly and he shakes his head.

“I want to get out,” he says stiffly, and she nods, as they move towards the exit.

It’s an awkward trip back up the stairs; the staircase is narrow, but he needs her guiding support for now, his legs shaking with each step. It takes twice as long as it should, with him pausing every so many steps, as she half-shoves him onto each step. His movements are made awkward from the brace, and she’s already trying to figure out how she’ll pry that thing off him.

And then…

She shoves open the trap door, the wood splintering. And even the feeble moonlight shining down from the broken window feels like someone has just lit up the room - the darkness of the cellar feels inky and oppressive in comparison; the oil-wells dimmer than they were when she descended.

He lets out a shuddering breath as he climbs out, into the fresh air, his eyes darting around the space.

“It’s okay, it’s only us,” she soothes. “You’re safe.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look at her. He’s staring at the boarded-up windows, at the broken glass and rotting pews and forgotten prayer books.

The look on his face reminds her of herself, when she awoke that first time in the woods alone. She knew nothing, had seen nothing in person… just the appreciation and awe of being there, in that place. A moment of simply being alive and in the world.

She remembers it well.

—

They sit inside the old church in silence for a while.

After a while, she begins to pull out first aid from her bag. “Let me,” she says softly, and he doesn’t protest - though he refuses to let her see the wounds under his threadbare clothing. She hasn’t got anything that will stitch his wounds, but she can clean the wounds and bandage them so that they at least stay sanitized and protected. The chemicals she has to use burn her nose, but they seem to work.

“Now, let’s have a look at the brace,” she says soothingly, the screwdriver back in her hand. He eyes her with suspicion but nods once for her to continue.

It’s not as easy as the chains. The brace is too tight and has bitten tight into his skin. The screws come out slowly, ad she doesn’t care that they roll amongst the glass and the debris.

The brace doesn’t fall away. Instead, she has to peal each piece away, skin and scar tissue tearing, leaving raw open wounds in their wake. But he doesn’t make a sound as each piece hits the floor. He just stares up at the piece of sky he can see.

And then it is gone. The wounds will scar, she knows it. But he has movement back, real movement again. His neck, his arms, his wings… Free again, a little bit more.

“Done,” she says softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” he finally says hoarsely, and looks back down at her, as she packs everything back up.

“Alice Cullen,” she says, and thinks about correcting herself. She’s not sure what surname she should be using honestly. She never had one of her own, and nothing else feels like it would fit. She was supposed to be Cullen for a while and then…

Well, she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Cullen was fine.

He nods in acknowledgement before looking back up at the sliver of sky visible through the broken window.

“I want to leave this place,” he says in a steady voice.

“Of course.”

She wants to offer to burn it down. To tear it down with her bare hands for him. But he won’t understand, not yet.

“Let’s go.”

—

He finds his strength as soon as his feet hit the grass, enough to stand on his own and move away from her support, onto the grass, shivering as his feet sunk in for the first time… in so very long. His turns in a slow circle, just staring up at the clouds and the trees and the world outside he’s hellish, cursed little dirt prison.

He… to call it a scream is not accurate. It is a scream, a roar, a holler, a flood of grief and rage and resentment. It is pain and loss, swearing revenge against the one that did this to him. It is regret and heartbreak and relief.

He is free.

His wings stretch out reflexively, the black staining his hands and face faintly, and the full horror of what the brace has done to him is revealed beyond the splitting and tearing and stretching of the wounds - his wings only open as long as his arm-span; the humeral and secondaries appear to have been crushed from the brace. And the humerus bone appears to have been snapped and reset so that it cannot extend. Half of his wings are limp and crumpled against his spine, a dead and mottled colour.

He has been crippled, possibly forever.

Except…

She’s never really been in the business of giving up. Of looking at something and accepting a bad roll of the dice. She looks at his wings, slack and broken, and she wants to fix them. She’s already considering it, mentally adding splints and bandages, breaking and resetting bone, stitching back together the thin flesh that stretches over them. It would be painful and miserable and it would take a long, long time. And it might not work.

But she already knows that if it didn’t work, she’d take him to Carlisle. She’d take him to Carlisle and use every single trick in her book to convince him to help. She’d promise that Carlisle would never see her again, that she’d never bother any of them, if Carlisle would just fix him. She’d take him to Carlisle, to Aro, to goddamn Maria, if it meant helping.

Anything he needed. Or wanted. She would get it - she had waited for this for so long.

He’s silent now, and he turns to look at her with confusion on his face.

“I looked for you, you know. For almost forty years.” Her voice is soft, and his gaze turns wary. “I get …visions of the future. Of the path that I’m on. And you have always been in them. I saw you with Maria in the south. I saw you when you left with Peter and Charlotte. I never saw what happened, and how you ended up down there but I tried so hard to find you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

And he stares at her, the black receding from his body, the wings folding back into his body.

“What did you see?” He asks, and he sounds exhausted.

“That I love you. All of you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He shakes his head, and for a second, he looks so young. “Did you see what happened when she remade me? When she worked out how to make her army more powerful?” He asks. “Did you see what it took to become this? Did you see what I became?”

“I did.”

“Ninety days. Of pain and sacrifice and being ripped into pieces and put back together. To feel the rage boil and burn until your skin,” he murmurs, looking back up at the cloudy night. “Of having this fresh, feral monstrosity of yourself fit itself inside of you and this… clarity of the world and how everything fits together. I’m not the man you want, Alice Cullen.”

“Yes, you are. And it’s … not Cullen anymore, not really. I left them because they wouldn’t let me find you.”

He’s silent, staring at her.

“They said I should think of you as good as dead and that wasn’t… you were still here. I just had to find you. I wasn’t going to mourn you just because you weren’t a vampire anymore. What Maria did to you didn’t change our future, so it didn’t matter to me. But it did to them. So I left them.” She shrugs. “I had enough money saved that I have my own home now - our home if you want it. But it’ll just be us.”

He looks at her hard, like he’s trying to look right through her.

“I was going to destroy you, you realize,” he says finally, his knees buckling but he sinks into the soft ground with dignity, leaning against a tree. “I was going to devour you whole.”

“I mean, with a safe word…” she begins and he lets out a chuckle.

“You aren’t what I was expecting,” he says finally, and she moves closer. She can smell rain on the air. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to be remade like me as payment.”

She’s seen it. In a few decades, he’ll offer it as a form of protection. That the only thing more dangerous than a mated vampire and demon would be two mated demons roaming untethered to a master or mistress.

She’s seen futures where she accepts and they are … sublime. Glorious and terrible and so very, very happy. And she’s seen futures where she’s content with herself, and they are just as happy, just as fantastic and beautiful and fatal. It was never about the venom or the magic that flowed in their veins. It was always them.

“If you don’t want to stay with me, I can help you find Peter and Charlotte,” she offers. “You can recover in my home until then, and we can part as friends.”

He looks back up at the sky as the rain begins to fall, a smile stretching across his face as the water hits his face.

How long has it been since he’s seen and felt rain?

“I think I’d like to stay here for a while,” he says finally, and she can feel how tired and confused he is.

He doesn’t trust her yet - it will be a long time until he does, she knows that. Long after his wounds have healed - she’s certainly got some ideas for his wings, but it’ll be a while before he’s willing to hear her out - he’ll still treat her with suspicion. And that’s okay. She didn’t bet everything on him to be scared off so easily.

Sitting down beside him, she’s careful not to touch him. His eyes are glazed and dreamy as he watches the clouds and the rain, the darkness swallowing them up in the woods behind the church.

“You should rest,” she says softly. “We’ll have to leave before dawn, but we have a few hours.”

“I’m fine,” he corrects, but his words are slower and easier, and she doesn’t say anything else as he slowly drifts off, the cool rain on his face.

Jasper Whitlock. Major of the Confederate Army, turned by Maria of Monterrey back in 1863. The love of her life, who was supposed to show up at a diner in Philadelphia but never made it. The scourge of the South, a mythological monster forged out of pain and horror that most people couldn’t imagine, let alone survive.

And her reason for everything.

He looks… peaceful as he sleeps, the rain clinging to him and not even disturbing him. All the stress and pain and rage slipped off his face. He looked like a different person.

She doesn’t remember what sleep is like, and it’s strange to think of just not being for a while. To just be so vulnerable.

It’s a strange feeling, waiting for so long, and now being here with him. Watching him sleep in the rain, broken up into little pieces but somehow still standing.

The real thing is so much more than she ever anticipated.

Nothing will hurt him again. No one will imprison him again. He is free. She found him. Anything he wants, anything at all.

“I’ve got you, Jasper. I’ve got you."

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hiddenfolk · 1 year

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Kinda nuts that Clara is just. Always wearing slippers? Never mind everything else, the most chaotic thing about her is how she's going through life with NO arch support

#m!ik #welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairuma #clara valac #Connor and murph are emotional support only #Clara really just played dodgeball and dueled a teacher #in a skirt and slippers huh #Her power is terrifying

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whump-queen · 8 months

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~Power play~ a ritual gone horribly wrong

Finally! Here’s my art piece for @zineofgid ~ a collab with @whumpsday with ocs we made together <3 Mill wrote an amazing story to go with this piece: read it here!!

(tags: kidnapping, ritual sacrifice, impalement, demon whumper, mouth whump, knives/skin carving, major character death, gore)

You can still buy the guys in distress zine here ~ proceeds go to the charity RAINN. (heads up that while my piece is sfw, this is an 18+ zine and many other contributors' pieces are not)

[Tags below]

❈

General whump taglist: @whumpshaped @whumpsday @emmettnet @a-whump-sideblog @whump-it-like-its-hot @wolfeyedwitch @whumper-soot @unorganisedalienrubbish @hidden-dreamland @whumpedydump @lonesome--hunter @ashh-ed @whump-in-the-closet @oriantthegiant @banditosong @anonymustyou @feralwhump @jieunie-23 @whumpasaurus101 @morning-star-whump @whmp @captain-bo-bob-bobby @the-beasts-have-arrived @spooky-scary-vampires @burningkittypoet @veyroswin @painsandconfusion @skittles-the-whumpee

Art tag: @burntcoffeewhump

#gidzine #akias art #im SO EXCITED I can FINALLY POST THIS #whump art #power play #loved being a part of this project!#demon whumper #demon art #demon whump #ritual sacrifice #whump Zine #kidnapping #impalement #oc izuloth #oc Reese #oc jonah #mill #eeeEEE

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slashernipples · 4 months

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In me heart, Killer Frequency has like, 8 movies, 2 failed reboots, and a tv miniseries.

#the second movie sees henry tryign to somewhat adjust af6er marie stepped off whistling point.#He pulls an axel and ends up killing a buncha cops and shit to avenge marie #movie 3 sees marie return a la ft13 part 6. its very sexy. they go on a murder spree again and marie walks off into the mosty woods #while henry ia shot and left for dead.#movie 4 is full of red herrings and a mysterious figure turns out to be henry after he survived the shot. the duo reunite #movie 5 is the copycat killer thay is ultimately offed by marie and henry. henry is killed for real. undead marie is distraught #she goes on a rampage and gets exploded. the town thinks its all finally over #but henrys hand rises from a shallow grave in a post credits scene #movie 6 henry rolls up to exact revenge for his mom AGAIN this is probably where some of the kills have a sense of humour to them #movie 7 is the obligatory Whistling Man In Space movie. henry has been played by a wwe wrestler since movie 6 #he shows.significant decay but turns out the alien nonsense suddenly made him powerful and idk brings back marie Again probably.#movie 8 was the crossover event slasher royale movie. marie and henry have an upper hand and emerge victorious.#the first reboot attempted to be super gritty and replaces forrest and peggy with college students with a campus radio program.#it was terribly received.#the second reboot attempted to place the focus on henry and made him the main murderer while saying he was possessed by a demon #this was one is widely considered to be the worst in the franchise.#the miniseries is a retelling of the original and is faithful to the source #its well appreciated for it even if critics said it was unimaginitive. the fans liked it bc it was clearly made for the fans.#why the FUCK have I put all these in the notes.#killer frequency #send help im so brain dill about this

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spenglersglasses · 22 days

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🎙️Now I know you're asking yourself, 2 chapters in one day? ❤️‍🔥

Well yup that's right... don't get used to it. I just got on a stride and could literally not control myself...

⚠️ FLASH WARNING⚠️

Anyways once again a few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠

(Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter 3: Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

- FLASHBACK (7 Years ago) -

The winds snapped around him like lashes from a whip. Kissing and slicing into his skin, leaving marks of blood in their wake. A pattern of scars that would speak volumes. The great radio demon had managed to escape. Coming too close to meeting his end at the hands of that filthy screen-faced fuck.

Alastor was seething with rage. His powers had all but dwindled down to nothing, leaving the once power overlord defenseless. Thankful that he had at least been able to take his own pound of flesh from the head of the Vees, before fleeing for his life. Now, past the outskirts of Pentagram City, he found himself. Deep beyond the inner rings of Hell. Cast out into the bowels of which even Lucifer himself had long since abandoned.

“This can’t be happening.” he groaned, struggling just to continue on. Gradually his movements became slower. Like walking in quicksand, he struggled with every step until he was all but crawling along the ground. The sounds of screaming and radio signals crackling in his ears. And for the first time, Alastor felt truly helpless. It was then, in his most desperate hour, he heard HER voice again.

“Oh, poor sweet Alastor… what brings thee to my garden?” she asked, waiting for his response as she remained still hidden in the shadows.

No. Not now, Alastor pleaded inside, feeling the presence growing closer. Unable to leave, she manifested before him. Enormous and horrid, her mouth opening up to reveal her slithering tongue. Splicing itself into tentacles and covered in glowing eyes. Sprouting like sores on its spines as she came closer and closer.

The sight of her alone could destroy even the most robust of sinners. Like a mutation, colored in shades of black, red, and white she continued evolving—changing. Finally becoming fully formed as she reached Alastor. The radio demon, forcing himself to look up at her. The entity, now appearing as a rather normal looking woman.

Dark black hair, fading into crimson red, was long and luscious. Her beautiful face, partially obscured beneath a wide-brim black hat. She was imposing to look at. Her Long, red overcoat flowing in the hellish winds. Endless chains coming from the depths of her coats. Emerging from its checkered pattern of black and white, spreading out into the abyss and traveling to Alastor.

“My favorite pet… Seems we have run into a bit of trouble. Tsk tsk.” she taunted. Alastor’s smile flickering into a snarl for a moment before he spoke.

“Roo! Fancy seeing you here. I—” he struggled, coughing up blood as his radio wave effect crackled in and out. His chest still aching from his wounds and his powers holding on for dear life before he finally collapsed onto the ground. The shadows and spirits he commanded, spinning around him with nowhere to go. Roo smiled, squatting down beside him. Taking Alastor’s chin in her hands and raising his gaze up to meet her.

“Poor Alastor, letting the TV bother you again I see. You know I can’t have that… after all who else would bring me such delicious souls if not for you.” she hummed, her otherworldly tongue coming out to swirl over his cheek. Alastor knew she wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had made a pact when Alastor first arrived in Hell. The newly deceased sinner, confused and bloodied from his fall into the pit when he saw Roo had been waiting.

Somehow, she knew he was coming. Standing by in the darkness, watching for him—ready to offer the once proud New Orleans radio host, turned serial killer, an opportunity he would never be able to refuse. Her wicked hand, held out to him, tendering him the chance to become Hell’s greatest overlord. To continue his work started on the Earthly plane.

All Alastor had to do was agree that every soul who had fallen short of his debts, she’d be allowed on them. Alastor would have full control of the rest, using them, and his newly given powers, to ascend the ranks. To the ambitious and blood lusting Alastor it was a deal that was too good to be true. They shook on it, Alastor and Roo now bound until his death. Alastor, learning quickly that his deal would eventually lead to his death.

While the stipulations of their agreement had worked for a time, Roo quickly grew greedy. Trying to convince Alastor to go beyond the terms of their deal. Sending her souls when no breach of their contract was made. The sounds of overlords filling his radio waves as he slaughtered them, over and over again, began haunting the rings of Hell. So much so that the mere mention of his name incited fear in their souls.

HIs last attempt to feast on an overlord was Vox. The demon who had only nearly managed to escape, but not without first taking his swing at the radio demon. Now Alastor was hanging on by a thread. Looking into Roo’s soulless eyes and wondering if this was truly the end or if in exchange for more time, an even more binding deal would be necessary.

After all, Roo was in fact the root of all Evil. Feeling as though she were equal, but opposite to God than Lucifer himself. A position she clutched tightly enough to bleed.

“I was so close.” Alastor stammered. His voice, weak and pathetic. It was a rare sight to see. If she were being honest, it tickled Roo to see him that way. She still needed him, however and their deal together was still very much not done. There was still more to gain from him, and Roo was never satisfied.

Alastor suddenly felt like he could expand his lungs. A cold rush flowing through him and the pain, beginning to disappear and he had begun healing. His loyal shadow and souls, pulling themselves back inside him. The greenlight of his power radiating brightly once more. He felt refreshed—alive.

“See now. All better.” Roo said smugly. Watching as Alastor rose up from the ground, ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. “Remember Alastor, you owe me.” she smiled. Winking at the radio demon. Before he could speak, he found himself somehow back in Pentagram City.

A bit dazed and confused, he strolled down the streets just as he did before. Ready to rumble once again with Vox, after some careful planning, when he noticed that another extermination had already begun. Alastor, wondering to himself why it was happening again soon. Wasn’t only a few days ago that the angels descended to Hell, he asked himself. Sauntering over to Cannibal Town, where he managed to find a calendar hanging on the wall at Rosie’s favorite butcher shop.

When his eyes met with the date, his dials began spinning. Horns growing larger from his head in his panic. Making ungodly sounds that glitched and screeched loud enough to affect everyone traveling around him. Somehow, in the short time he felt he was with Roo, 7 years had passed.

- Present Day -

Charlie didn’t know why, but she found herself frantically running towards Alastor’s radio tower. Crying hard, the tears spilling with every step. Angry at Vaggie for her betrayal, but even more angry at herself, knowing that she was responsible. That she had in fact betrayed their relationship long before Vaggie’s indiscretion.

Slowly things had been driving a distance between them. Vaggie’s issues with the hotel, the revelation she was an angel—part of the extermination team to boot, and this thing with Alastor that Charlie couldn’t shake. All of it had been slowly pulling them apart and Charlie did nothing to stop it. Now here she was, running to the man who had stolen her affections.

Charlie’s heart was raw and bleeding. Her emotions had never been so overwhelming. When she finally reached the door, she began banging, hard and loud, until it swung open. Alastor, spinning around in his chair to see Charlie looking more distressed than ever before. A sight that had unexpectedly made him feel a flicker of worry and concern.

“Charlie! My dear, just in time for our little announcement.” Alastor beamed, rising up from the chair before coming to greet her. Charlie took one look at Alastor, standing there with what she hoped was a genuinely happy smile and hoping it was for her, when she rushed towards him.

“Alastor.” she cried, quickly burying her face into his shoulder. Alastor was taken back, finding himself unable to let go of her. Wrapping his arms around her as the princess sobbed against his coat. The sound of her cries, making him feel an unexpected pity—even sympathy for her.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, the words feeling odd as they fell from his lips. However odd it seemed; he still meant them. Charlie, looking up at him. Her eyes, full of sadness and pain.

“Vaggie… she… I… we…” Charlie cried, feeling Alastor unexpectedly pulling her in even closer. Both Alastor and Charlie, unable to deny feeling one another’s heartbeats. Their rhythm, matching each other’s intensity. Wondering to themselves, if the other was feeling it too.

“Shhh…” he said, patting the top over her head, “...it doesn't matter anymore.” he assured her. Charlie felt a smile tugging on her face just as Alastor pulled her off by the shoulders. Looking her dead in the eye. “Now my dear bride-to-be… I suggest we keep the details of our nuptials between us. Heaven knows what kind of madness that might cause for your family. You know should it be revealed that you had just… owed me one.” Alastor chuckled.

He was right. The situation was bad enough without having everyone in Hell knowing all the gorey details. Charlie nodded her head in response. Alastor smiled, taking a hold of his microphone cane and tapping it against his hand until he found his preferred frequency.

“We have a new journey to attend to.” Alastor assured her. Sending her a wink.

“Al… what are you?” Charlie began, Alastor placing a finger to her lips. The sound of his laughter ringing out all over Pentagram City.

“Salutations my fellow sinners. Today is a special day indeed. I know you have all been waiting oh so—patiently for the new broadcast. So without too much more suspense… I thought we might open things with a bang or should I say a bell. Wedding bells.”

The broadcast was sent out all over. Heard by everyone within the city—every sinner, demon, overlord, imp, and hellhound. All of them Wondering what the fuck the radio demon was going on about. Their answer came fast when before they knew it, Alastor asked Charlie to join him on the mic. Their ears piqued as they waited with bated breath.

“...It’s about time I settled down. Asking my beautiful, darling Charlotte Morningstar for her hand… so whaddya say Charlie, will you marry me?” Alastor asked her. The broadcast, finding its way to Lucifer who was halfway across the city in his palace. Spitting out his food when he heard what Alastor had to say. The king of Hell swatting a stack of rubber ducks across the room. Feeling like his skin was crawling at the news. Immediately searching for his phone to call Charlie. Thinking that he’d be well on his way to stopping this soon.

Back at the tower Charlie began fidgeting with her hands. “Um… uh….” she mumbled. Stalling for time while she battled herself inside. The will of her heart and mind at odds.

She knew what she had to do, this bit was all just for show. Neither one of them wanted the rest of Hell to know the truth. The stench of it wouldn’t be good on either of them. Charlie swallowed back her reservations and looked over to Alastor. “Yes. I will marry you.”

The town was in an uproar. The conversation on everyone’s lips was only about the enigmatic couple. “Oh, I had no idea they were an item.” said one of the sinners who had stopped on the street beside a hellhound in the Pride ring. Another in the Lust ring, mentioning that they were actually perfect for one another if everyone thought about it. There was no escaping it now, everyone would know now.

In Cannibal Town, an engagement celebration had begun. The crowd, cheering at the news of their delightful princess and Alastor getting ready to tie the knot. Rose, however, was sitting quietly on her veranda. Munching on a few lady fingers, when the broadcast caught her attention. “Hmm… Alastor, just what are you up to?” she asked herself.

The news had even reached the depths of V Tower. Vox was sitting in his office, feet propped up as he casually watched 666 News while going over some plans. Suddenly anchor Katie Killjoy came on the screen. His attention was captured.

“Thanks for nothing Tom, and now for more amusing news… Seems everyone’s favorite radio demon overlord and the princess of Hell are set to tie the knot. While no details have been disclosed at this time. You can be sure we will keep you up to date on their upcoming nuptials.” she reported, a glimmer of sarcasm and resentment present in her tone.

The screens around him began shorting out. Glitching and pixelating, covering them completely from left to right. Vox began digging his fingers into the control console. How? Why?

“Alastor and fucking Charlotte Morningstar?!” he raged, instantly coming to the conclusion that Alastor was making a power play. “That motherfucker!” Vox said, ripping one of the screens off the wall. Tossing it out into the hall just as Velvette had been walking towards him. Cautiously peeking her head in the door frame, noticing Vox’s bad mood. Velvette, relishing a chance to worsen it further.

“Hmm… What's up your ass now?” she asked. Vox practically heaving, desperately wanting to taste Alastor’s blood.

“That noisy little fuck has managed to convince Lucifer’s daughter to marry him.” he growled. Velvette, cocking an eyebrow at him before laughing her head off.

“Jealous?” she asked him, a big smirk on her face. Vox was ready to tear her throat out but tried his best to compose himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he growled.

“Let him have her. Why the fuck should we care?” Velvette asked, refusing to let the news ruffle any of her feathers. Vox clearly wasn’t going to be satisfied with that answer. Angry that Alastor had managed to come up with yet another way to gain power. Thinking to himself that there was no way the princess and him were actually in love.

“Because it gives him more control, you idiot.” Vox began, knowing he had to do something to put a stop to it. “Wonder how things will blow over once they are exposed for the frauds they are. Maybe that outdated, crackling son of bitch will be held accountable.” Vox mused.

“Just what do you have in mind?” Velvette asked him. The TV screens, all beginning to flash with images of Alastor and Charlie. Then images that appeared like they were from cameras surveilling the city. The system, bouncing from image to image, trying to locate the two of them. Vox, laughing maniacally before answering.

“You will see. Everyone will see.”

Charlie left the radio tower with unexpected butterflies in her belly. Her head, still however, screaming at her to run. Struggling with herself and the right thing to do. Just as the broadcast had ended, as if On cue, came the call from her father. Lucifer, insisting she get her “royal ass” down to the palace before he’d find a way to shut down the hotel. She knew he would be angry, how could he not, but not this angry.

Alastor and her father were oil and water. There was no way he was going to accept this marriage without a fight. Charlie, deciding to do her best to convince him. Gathering up her courage and putting on a brave face. Hoping that between the hotel and her father’s house, she could come up with a believable enough excuse for him to let it go. A tall order indeed. Just as she stepped outside, she immediately bumped into someone.

The impact, sending them down to the ground. Charlie panicked, reaching out her hand for them to take. Feeling stupid for having not seen them when she noticed the hint of wings beneath the person’s silver cloak—It was Emily.

“Emily! Oh, shit I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, hoisting the angel up from the ground and helping to brush her off.

“Charlie, it’s so good to see you again! I was coming to talk to you about something, but gosh I just overheard some of your… um… people… saying that you are getting married?!” the angel smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement.

“Oh ah… yeah that's right. Alastor and I. Who knew.” Charlie laughed nervously. Emily jumped at her, arms quickly flying around Charlie’s shoulders as Emily squeezed her tightly in a hug.

“Oh gosh, that is such wonderful news and oh man I am so sorry to bug you while you are planning… but I need to speak with you.” she continued, her face turning a bit more serious than before.

“What's wrong? Has heaven decided that—” Charlie began before Emily cut her off. The smile on her face, now practically sparkling.

“Your friend, Sir Pentious… he is with us in Heaven! He has been absolved Charlie, you did it!” she explained. This time Charlie grabbed hold of Emily.

“What?! Are you sure?!” she asked, almost shaking the poor angel in her excitement. Rejoicing and crying as the smile on her face grew wide enough to rival even Alastor’s.

“It’s true he arrived a while ago. He’s proof that the sinners can be redeemed!” Emily grinned.

“How? I mean I know how. Fucking Hell we did it!” Charlie cheered, the excitement sending her head spinning. She felt the need to sit down for a moment. “Wait Emily… How come you are just now telling me? It’s been months now… I have been waiting for another letter and nothing…” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, that's why I had to come see you in person. Someone has been intercepting our letters. I don't know who, but I have it on good authority it’s one of Adam’s crew. Don't you worry though, I plan on getting to the bottom of it.” Emily assured her. “I have to go now before anyone gets suspicious, but keep your head up girl, you got this!.”

“Thank you.” Charlie said as Emily disappeared into thin air. The news was powerful, just what Charlie needed to feel better about everything that had happened between Vaggie and Alastor. While she wished she had time to go wake everyone up and scream their success from the rooftop, there was still the matter of attending to her Father. The boss of Hell was waiting impatiently for his daughter’s arrival. Charlie would do well not to keep him waiting.

By mid-afternoon Angel and Husk had managed to stumble out of bed. Husk, going straight back to minding the bar as Angel slumped over the sofa in the parlor. The night had proven to be quite enjoyable, the two of them finally consummating their affections, that up until now Husk had been loath to admit. The former cat overlord, softening up to the porn star with a big heart after all.

Angel began flipping through the TV channels. Sending Niffty off to grab him a bite to eat and occasionally making lewd comments at Husk, when he caught a repeat of Katie Killjoy’s segment. Angel’s mouth dropped to the floor. Dumbstruck with the words he had just heard from outta the old cunt’s mouth.

They had missed Alastor’s special broadcast. Too hungover, and blissfully snoozing, after a night of unbridled passion to have listened. “Well fuck me.. You hearin’ this shit whiskers?” Angel asked, jolting up off from his spot and over to the bar.

“I told you not to call me that… Already up my ass after one night.” Husk huffed under his breath, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his annoyance.

“I believe you were up my ass schnookums, but seriously we got a problem. Charlie and Smiles are getting hitched. That’s gotta be a joke right?” Angel asked, cringing at the thought.

“Charlie’s in love with Alastor.” Niffty chimed in, handing Angel over his sandwich and climbing up to sit on the bar. Husk insincerely smiled, pushing her gently off the side of the bar. Niffty scurrying off somewhere they didn’t care to know.

“My money is on Charlie getting herself into some deep shit.” Husk commented. “He’s no good. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked, Husk letting out a sigh. Resigning himself to having to help figure things out once again.

“Let’s go talk to her.” he suggested, ready to round the bar and head upstairs. Taking Angel with him to Charlie’s room, when Niffty shot out in front of him. Halting them two of them mid-stride.

“Charlie is out! Left this morning after the broadcast.” she informed them. Husk, face palming hard as he tried to quickly formulate a plan.

”Nift, you keep watch over the hotel. Me and…Pookie are gonna go find our Princess.” Husk said. Niffty, nodding in response. With that Husk and Angel left to find her. Unbeknownst to them, Alastor had been lurking in the shadows. Over hearing their little conversation and beginning to wonder himself where Charlie had run off too.

Deciding that he should be keeping a closer eye on her just in case. Having the budding need to protect her, when suddenly a thought hit him. If Charlie was out and the news about their wedding was going around like wildfire, surely someone who wanted to get at him might take the opportunity to use her against him. Instantly the radio demon fled from the hotel, determined to try and find Charlie before anyone else.

Charlie was strolling down the center of Pentagram City, ready to have a one on one with her dad. Hoping to convince him that she and Alastor were a real couple. Knowing all too well that things were far from the fantasy romance she had spun in the deep recesses of her mind. As she walked, the residents of the city stopped to talk with her.

Well wishes and congratulations, coming from all around. Her people, seeming to be truly happy for her. If only she could be happy too. It wasn’t very long into her journey, when she reached the road that would lead her to her father’s. Unexpectedly finding herself face to face with Vox as she turned the corner. The one overlord she knew Alastor absolutely detested above all others.

While she had hoped to avoid him, it was too late. He had caught sight of her, yelling her name from across the street. Bringing with him a flood of press from 666 News and other outlets. Cameras and reporters coming out of the woodwork to surround them. Charlie, wondering if Vox had planned this, knowing that it most likely had. Nothing would make him happier than finding a way to get to Alastor.

“Charlie! Ms. Morningstar! I hear congratulations are in order. What are you doing all this way without your… handsome beau?” Vox asked, practically choking on the words.

“I ah… well…” Charlie tried to answer, tapping her pointer fingers together. Overwhelmed with all the flashing lights and cameras in her face. Vox was never happier, grinning as he saw how flustered and upset she had become. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the truth out of her.

“Tell us Charlie… is it true that you and Alastor have been making it all up?” one reporter asked. Charlie’s eyebrows raised and her teeth clenched as she wanted to scream back at them.

“There have been reports that the marriage is a sham, can you comment?” another reporter asked.

“No that's not… I…” she said, trying to think of something to say. Something that had more weight than just telling them it was real, that it wasn’t just for show. Words that maybe could even convince her it was true.

“Please… come on you guys. Of course Charlie and Alastor aren’t faking their romance.” Vox said, his face and demeanor suggesting otherwise. It was about that time that Lucifer had come looking for his daughter. Every television had his little princess plastered on every channel. She was in trouble and he knew it.

By the time he reached her, so had Angel and Husk. All three of them, unable to get to her from behind the hordes of press that had encircled her and Vox. It was clear that this had all been a set up. Lucifer, Husk, and Angel, Watching poor Charlie becoming more and more panicked as the press berated her and there was nothing they could do.

Lucifer had had enough, pushing through the crowd. Only getting about half way to Charlie when out of nowhere Alastor materialized beside her. His tentacles and horns on full display. The crowd that had been keeping her captive, backing off in terror before the radio demon came back into his usual form. Standing beside Charlie as he took her hand in his.

Instantly Charlie felt breathless. Was Alastor actually holding her hand? What other choice did they have if they were going to keep up the facade. The small gesture was enough to send her heart pounding once again. Alastor speaking to address Vox and the rest of the crowd.

“Oh Vox, Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟. You have been such a poor reporter. Maybe staying in your tower is more suitable for your talents.” he snapped, sending a devilish grin Vox’s way. The overlord, wanting so badly to punch Alastor’s smug face. He knew this might be the only chance he may get to screw him over. It was now or never.

“Well Alastor, if the two of you are so IN LOVE… why don’t you prove it?” Vox hissed. Both Alastor and Charlie, frightened by being called out on their bluff. They had to do something to prove it, but what? Her father and friends, all watching, waiting—wondering what they would do next.

Just as Vox was beginning to feel that he had accomplished his goal, Charlie grabbed hold of Alastor’s coat. Pulling him close to her and pressing her lips to his. The crowd audibly gasped as their lips met. Alastor, too, was in shock. Finding it hard not to close his eyes to the feel of Charlie’s mouth on his.

Was Charlie enjoying this? Was he? Alastor wasn’t sure, but he met her half way—and more. Dipping her before the crowd. His willing tongue, sliding into her mouth with ease. Dancing along with hers in the most sincere kiss Charlie had ever felt before. The princess’s eyes, opening a moment in surprise before closing them once again. Both of them lost in the moment.

Alastor was wondering what had come over him. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, but when they kissed, it was undeniable. Something was happening to him. On the inside, Charlie too was overwhelmed, pretending that he felt for her what she felt for him. The crowd began cheering around them as the kiss was broadcasted across all the rings of Hell. Vox pissed off more than ever before as the two of them seemed to have foiled his plans once again.

Roo laughed, the radio waves having just reached her. The news of Alastor’s engagement to the princess of Hell was now on her radar. Roo, knowing that she would now more than ever, need to keep a close eye on Alastor. “Oh Alastor, just what are you up to?”

Notes:

Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟- You annoying little fuck.

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