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christinebloodwrittings · 1 month

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To hunt or be hunted #5

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Bath time has proving itself to be a revealing process, specially when in company of someone else. Warnings: Angsty stuff, fluffy at the end.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100

Walking around the hallways, now that you could freely do so, helped with your insomnia. You tried to minimize how often you did it, afraid to upset someone with the endless pacing noise.

Mindlessly you ended up in the highest floor. As you turned to walk down the stairs a sound made you stare at the light under one of the doors.

You knocked on it knowing the owner of the room, “Alastor? Are you killing someone or are you in pain?” the demon didn’t answered, worried you opened the door a little, peeked through a small crack as to not interrupt if he was busy.

Your heart raced when you saw the taxidermy hanged on his wall, the warm old ambiance made you feel like you were back to the 1920’s. Just at the end of the room there was this annex, something you didn’t noticed when you dropped his clothes a few months ago.

It was a forest, like the bayou you used to frequent to avoid the police. It had the same swampy smell. The next sound made you jump, it came from the bathroom, like the sound you can make by kicking water.

“Alastor?” your voice caused him such a surprise, that the next you heard was a shriek then a lot of radio static, “I’m not going to open the door, I just…Are you okay?” his shadow creeped out from under the door, pulled you inside the room and closed the main door.

“Yes dear, I’m okay” since you couldn’t exactly tell by his tone, you turned to the shadow, he slowly smiled in return, “Okay, pardon the intrusion” You managed to turn around, but stopped to see the bunch of "No" signs on the door, as if Alastor's shadow didn't want you to leave.

“The stitches got a bit lose” He spoke as the figure on the wall gave you an image of your previous suturing work and how it had come loose and deteriorated, until it was like a badly patched jacket.

“Describe how the wound looks” Alastor made the mistake to move very suddenly, tensing the edges of the scab, he winced before giving you an answer, “Red, it’s mostly scab, but the stitches got lose and teared apart some of the scab”.

“How about you finish there and when you’re a bit decent, I take a look?” the handle loosened allowing the door to move backwards from the frame, “Come in” 'No way! He will be naked in the bathtub, no! But it could be serious, at worst I just keep my eyes on his torso and then turn around' you panicked internally, then took a step forward.

“Don’t be ridiculous, open your eyes, you’re going to hurt yourself!” you had your eyes covered, as you made your way to the bathtub, failing because you knocked your knee against the sink, “You have to remember what kind of upbringing we had; I only saw my ex-husband naked in his entirety” he was embarrassed, but seeing you being in a worse state, kind of reassured him.

Due to the water, parts of his fur stick to the skin and sometimes leave certain marks on the skin visible. In Alastor's case, his cream-colored skin was partially covered with short but spacious scars, since in contrast is a much darker color it made them stand out easier.

The worst thing about those was that they did not have a pattern that could resemble a “professional” torture technique, but it seemed as if they had stoned him, which is something that happened a lot to people whose skin color was darker at the time. The racists used to tie the person to a pole and throw rocks at someone.

A truly sickening activity.

“Oh those are…I didn’t noticed those scars, I’m so sorry” immediately you diverted your eyes, out of respect mostly, “You had seen the…process?” you shook your head, “I used to scare kids that planned it, no one is brave enough when they have an axe against their neck”.

After snapping out of it, you approached him, you thanked him internally for having his knees pressed together and up to the level of his chest, so you wouldn’t see his privates. Two old fashioned mannered persons on a room, or prudes, as Angel would said.

The stitches did got lose, but he was supposed to take them off at a certain time. You assumed you didn’t warned this to him, so that fell on you, “Mmh, I’ll get tweezers and scissors, if I use my claws I might make it worse” mindlessly you pressed your hand near the edge of the wound, it wasn’t hot nor red enough to be an infection.

“Your hand is so warm” he placed his fingers on the top of your hand, “Funny how you don’t shove me away” you were aware of his repulsion of touch, weird enough he was always willing to invade your personal space, like the other day, but he shoved any other person trying to approach him physically, except for Nifty and you.

“I think, if you wanted me dead, I wouldn't have been able to return to the hotel” being playful with life and death matters was a refreshing interaction for you to have with someone, Alastor made it fun.

“Charlie would’ve had my head if you hadn’t” literally.

“You had the chance to kill me three times, if I recall correctly” You had, but that’s not the thing that makes him curious, it lead him to ask an interesting question, “Why didn’t you?”.

“The first time, you were eating someone, it made me gag so I walked away” the image of you being with your axe ready to strike and then waking away repulsed made him laugh, you couldn’t resist a giggle either.

“Down here, when you first arrived, I wanted to level how stupid you were, since you didn’t attacked me, I didn’t either” that was one hell of an intense staring session, in which Alastor walked away first, the implied threat was strong enough, so he moved away from you to continue terrorizing the city.

“And in the rubble, I just wanted to give you a lesson” he made what you could interpret as a pout, twitching his eye and his ear.

“Your hair is dry” You noticed, now that you looked at his ears.

“I haven’t washed it yet” Alastor saw a light in your eyes that meant trouble, leading to a back and forward: “Can I?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “I’ll do whatever you want”.

“Then you’ll join me for my broadcast tomorrow night, you’ve been quite evasive about it”, Since your presence became public knowledge around the hotel, Alastor felt the liberty to approach you more often. The tension from the first interaction dissipated over time. However, he constantly invited you to spend some time in his studio, subject that you’ve been avoiding. Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop asking.

“I´m sorry” you materialized two cotton balls in your hands, then placed them carefully on the insides of his ears, before wetting his hair.

“Have I done something to provoke it?” he was genuinely concerned. He knows himself far too well to know he can be correct and at the same time be offensive, and doesn’t mind the reaction unless it affects him directly.

“No…I keep most of me to myself, force of habit. Also I fear that you may want to talk about past lives” No matter what topic you start the conversation on, he always handles it in such a way that you end up talking about the 1920s and the society or politics of the moment and compare it to the technological advances of the new generation.

It got old very quickly.

“We could talk about other things” it was unusual for you to hear him be genuine, but you weren’t complaining. “Like?” he relaxed once you started massaging the shampoo into his head, “This cotton ball method is genius” his ears rotated as your fingers worked the foam around them, “I had the same issue, until I saw videos of cat owners washing their pets, using cotton balls to protect their ears”.

“Did your husband also enjoyed this kind of attention?” You didn't have saliva to swallow, and even if you did, the knot in your throat wouldn't allow it. “Not with me” he laughed, clearly not reading your clear discomfort, “One of my main victims were men who committed adultery, maybe his body is now rotting in the bayou”.

You decided to swallow your pride and let his unpleasantness pass, “Unlikely, I cracked his skull open” he took your hand off his head and placed a kiss on your knuckles, “Deservedly so” you smiled for a second, before his next statement rose a bitter taste to the back of your mouth.

“Men are often asses, it’s no wonder that woman want them dead. Fortunately, my mother raised me accordingly” you rolled your eyes at his ego, “Remind me to lit a candle for her, she’s most likely in heaven” his heart, as black as it could be, fluttered by the mention of a lovely practice.

“You knew of her?” You were clearly older than him, he had a small hope you could speak of his mother, “No, but the way you talk about her, that’s proof enough”. It took you a few seconds to remember one of your husband’s so lovely gifts, a cookbook, given the fact that – according to him– your meatloaf was dry every time.

“I think I had her cookbook, Amaya Heartfelt, right?” his microphone made a crowd laughing sound before he spoke, “Ah, that’s why your Jambalaya tasted familiar” funny, you thought you saw a grimace when he ate, now that was the reason.

“I make a decent Jambalaya, accept it” rather than being playful, your voice turned to be a bit brazen, not by accident that is. “More than decent, but my mother wins against you by a landslide” you hummed in utter defeat, “Fair enough, mamma’s boy” he scoffed, but did not correct you.

“If we had met properly, we probably would’ve been best of friends” 'Oh Alastor, you're cute and all, but with your urges and my to-do list, we would have had more than one friction, the friction would have caused a fire, and not the good kind' you almost could imagine yourself being his wife at the time, certainly would’ve been better than your actual ex-husband.

“I don’t dwell in what could’ve been” he made a deer-like sound when you scratched behind his ears, “I mean, what’s the point? You can’t go back to do things different” you poured more water on his head to wash away the foam. “Do you regret something?” he spoke after you removed the cotton balls off his ears.

“Not shooting my parents when I had the chance” he visibly tensed, then turned his head around slightly, “How can you say that?” his brow was so closed together in his frown, that it almost seemed one.

“What do you mean?” his eyes shifted colors, his sclera darkened and the dials were bright red, “What could be reason enough to get rid of the people that raised you? The woman that birthed you? People that kept you safe and loved!” his radio filter turned on and off as he spoke, raising his voice as well in utter disbelief, “I have my reasons” shrugging your shoulders unlocked even more anger in him.

“Your parents must’ve had a hard time raising you” your mind fell silent, “That’s an ungrateful thing to say, no reason can be enough to want to do something like that” as you listened to his rant, your hands turned white against the edge of the bathtub, squeezing it tightly.

“Spoke the cannibal” you sillily thought that would put an end to the conversation, “But I had never disrespected the memory of my mother, nor I could ever” you laughed, anger burned the back of your throat, “You are a man, you don’t understand a thing” the radio static in the air and the tension provoked by the argument, was unbearable, blood would be shed if he didn’t stopped that instant.

But he went too far, “Then illuminate me then, what could’ve been so terrible?” his smile was one of mock, his tone sarcastic and his smile challenging. Something snapped inside of you, a bunch of words trapped inside your mind, now set free to burn everything they touched.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and allowed the poison escape your body, in the shape of the truth, “My father was addicted to the game, he sold my alcoholic mother, my sister and I to the mafia, to repay his gambling debts” you could still remember your mother screaming ‘BASTARD’ repeatedly, after receiving your father’s call about the situation.

“My mom was the first to shoot herself before the men broke the door, I shot my sister before they could take her, but I failed to it myself” they grabbed you and the gun before you could pull the trigger, last thing you saw was your sister last smile before the light left her eyes.

“You were belittled, sure, but you will never understand what it means to be sold and treated like livestock” your voice trembled and broke. Still with your eyes closed the tears burned the insides and leaked a few down your cheek.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him exactly how you would look at your father if you had him in front of you, “Now, Alastor, I believe my parents didn’t do a thing for me to be grateful for”.

“I…overstepped” he blinked a few times, his eyes normal and the static gone, “Indeed” the ceramic made a cracking sound under your hands as you released it. “Let me make it up to you” Alastor tried to grab your hand, “Don’t bother” you cut him off.

When his hand was close to your wrist, you tapped lightly on his skin, that single tap felt as a full slap. A shiver ran though his spine, his stomach burned painfully, “Y/n” he pleaded, he wanted to chase after you, but he was naked, wet, and the thought ‘I shouldn’t have spoken’ shouted inside his ears.

“Cut the strings on one side and pull gently, then apply antiseptic, do not cut in the middle” you then closed the bathroom door behind you, as well as the main door.

🍎📻

Making your way to the stairs, your steps were heavy as well as your efforts to avoid letting more tears come out. Almost blinded by them, and rage, you accidentally knocked against something, or rather, someone.

“Y/n?” Lucifer turned around, embarrassment rose and showed up on your cheeks, while you cleaned the remaining wetness of your face. “Lovely night, isn’t it?” despite your state he smiled, not making fun of you, nor pointing it out.

“Could I ask you for an embarrassing favor?” he was nervous, you even more so, “I don’t think it’s the time–“ he pulled you by your hand and guided you down the hallway on the opposite direction from Alastor’s room.

“I’m shedding, with six wings it’s a huge bother, specially with the ones closer to my back, I lost the stick I use for those and they really itch, could you lend me a hand?” he had this stare only puppies have when they are asking to god himself for you to give them a rub and a treat.

You were weak to that fucking stare, and if you had seen your daughter grow old, she with no doubt would’ve gotten everything out of you just with that stare.

“Uhm, sure” anything to get you away from more suicidal thoughts, “Thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this” he was practically skipping as he walked.

He sat on the middle of the massive bed you put together, tossed his coat, vest, all possible garments away, then extended his wings for you.

15 minutes went by.

“Y/n? Your hands are trembling, is everything okay?” the silver carved brush shook along with you, of course he was going to notice.

You could say you were tormented by the memories of your past, that you blurted out the most horrifying seven years of you life to a man that doesn’t give a single shit about you, that you haven’t slept a proper wink in thirty years. That you feel under-fucked and alone, and could make a deal with any wretch that came your way for a bit of love and sympathy. Overall, you have no purpose, no will to live, nothing except the small praises you hear in the four courses of meals is a reason strong enough to get you out of bed in the mornings.

Sure, you could say that and look more pathetic than you already did. Mind the sarcasm.

“Yes, it’s just…I’m a bit overstimulated” again, understatement.

He didn’t understood that word, but he found you almost ripping your eyes out to stop yourself from crying, your hair frizzled and claws out. He had to give you a distraction, something your mind could be busy with.

“This doesn’t hurt, right?” he heard the concern in your voice, “Not at all, I feel a great relief, lighter even” he noticed how close you were to him, your tail was long enough to go pass his thigh, “Either way, let me know” he absentmindedly took it and worked his fingers against the pointy hairs at the end.

“These scars” the distinguish smell of his blood was clear, his milky-colored skin, pure and beautiful, was accompanied by a golden mantle, as if he had millions of freckles that are actually burns on his shoulders down to the lower back.

“They’re horrible, right? I got burned with hellfire during my fall, Lilith always commented how rough my back felt afterwards–” the sole way the was talking about himself made you want to cry, after a few self-loathing words out, your brain muffled his voice away.

Slowly you felt yourself drift, as well as you leaned forward, gently pressing your cheek on his shoulder. His warmth, the sweet smoked apple scent, even the sound of his heartbeat, overwhelmed you.

“Y/n?” the muffle went away; you heard his curious voice loud and clear though his skin. “The pattern reminds me of a swarm of fireflies dancing above the river” you laughed, painfully removing yourself from him, “I said something weird, didn’t I?” you smiled, but it fell as soon as you heard a sniffle.

“Sir, are you…” you tried looking pass his shoulder, but he composed himself faster than how the Dublin wall fell, not that you knew of that of course. “Sorry, that was beautiful, thank you” his smile, ear to ear, everything about him glowed.

“What do I do with the feathers?” you had collected them inside a pillow case, given the lack of plastic bags around, “I usually trash them” there was a big red one that was beautiful compared to the wilted looking ones, you saved it, sending it away with a smoke.

He noticed you saving one of his feathers, it in fact, sent a pleasant shiver up Lucifer’s heart and got him smiling like a teenager.

“How often do you roam around sleepless?” he folded all the clothing items he dismissed earlier, as he asked. You opened the bathroom’s trash can, poured the feathers down as you thought for an answer, but you just couldn’t lie, at all.

“Four to five times a week” he hummed, “So I gathered, nightmares?” you made your way putting the case back on the pillow you took it from, “Memories” you felt a poke on your back, that made you turn around, when you did, his face was almost at the same level as yours, he muttered “Quid pro quo” before a light went through his eyes.

“I know a spell that can help you, in exchange you become my cuddle buddy” he emphasized every damn word, like he was presenting a big opportunity, you were flabbergasted “Huh?” was the only thing you could utter that wasn’t a mental mess.

“Fun, right? Also you get out of that tomb you call a room” You weren't going to compare him to your friend in life Louanne, but the way the devil himself saw through you better than anyone had tried before was terrifying and yet strangely satisfying.

“Did I guessed?” worst thing is that he was right, he knew it, he knew you knew, and your face couldn’t be funnier to him, “You read me in a way I find distasteful” your annoyance was a delight, “I get that a lot” no he didn’t.

“If you do anything weird–“ he cut you off, “You will be allowed to bite me to a breaking point” oddly enough, Charlie’s attitude towards you was the stinking reflection of his father, you couldn’t have guessed it in a million years. “You and your daughter will be my ruin…Fine” for the sake of finally sleeping , you agreed.

“Any specific area you’d like me to avoid?” he took your hand again, just to have your fingers on his palm, “The ones that are obvious, also inner ears and the base of my tail” a serious tone, a warning, regarding your tail, “Just the base?” he asked, puzzled yet loving that you said yes.

“Well it’s connected to my spine, so it hurts a lot when manhandled” he kissed your hand, “Got it, please get comfortable while I dust off my wings, part of the process I’m afraid” he disappeared around the bathroom wall.

Half a second it took you to process what he said, before asking: “You want to start tonight?” your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Yes, you don’t?” utter disbelief all over again, that man was too straight forward.

“I haven’t slept near anyone for more than a century” walked up to the bathroom door, high voice like when you used to whine about the prices getting too high for everyone’s sake. “Then I’ll try to be gentle, I haven’t slept correctly in seven years, I’m really excited” as fast as he walked in he was out, towel on his hips, wings folded inside somewhere. He then went in the walk in closet, like a diva getting ready for her next show.

“Are you…making fun of me?” that was a strange feeling, you weren’t in control at all, erratic feelings flooded you. “Nope” he made a pop sound, sticked his head out the door and winked with his forked tongue out. How is that the same man that had you nervous for your death in the kitchen the other day?

“I’ll get my nightwear” frustrated already you moved two steps, but he stood in front of you with a bag on his hand, “Already ahead of you, figured a two piece would be more comfortable” your mouth hanged open, speechless.

“You planned this ahead– know what? I don’t wanna know” you took the bag off his hands, in it there was a long sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts, both black with plastic cat images. “Little kittens? How cute, I can keep these right?” he nodded enthusiastically so. “Yes, look! Mine are ducks!” he made a little jump, opening like a starfish, “You look like a child!” you laughed, how long as it been since you did? “Hey don’t be mean, now who’s mocking who?” it was so contagious he ended up laughing too.

After changing, you left your boots and uniform on a chair, then walked to the already tucked in king, sliding down the covers in the space he made for you. You weren’t sure who hugged who, but he answered that for you when he nuzzled under your neck.

“You have a lovely laugh” he purred, hugging your waist, “Thanks, I don’t do it often” the vibration of his voice right in your heart was a weird but delightful thing to have back. Also the warmth of having someone to hug instead of a pillow, which is amazing, “Neither do I, thank you”.

His tail, right you forgot he has one, entwined with yours, that never happened before, but then again it would’ve been weird that your husband had a tail, right? He felt you tense up, so he passed his knee in between yours, then placed a loving kiss on your cheek before nuzzling back in.

“You can stop fighting now” words that worked almost like the spell that poured out of his fingers, “No one will hurt you”, four seconds, knocked out cold for the first time in 30 years.

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Stay tuned ;3

Part 6

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