Ashley

You used to greet him every Saturday at the speakeasy, and now, he rarely left the house.

There had to be something brewing between you and Alastor.

Both of you refused to verbalize it, though.

A year had passed since Alastor invited you into his home, and he’d made no move to touch you.

Sometimes you wondered if he was disgusted by the fact that you used to be a prostitute, flesh desecrated by the hands of drunken brutes for a quick buck.

Either way, you buried that saddening thought in the deepest, darkest crevices of your mind, including your affection for the man.

But then your daughter suddenly decided it was high-time you confronted your feelings.

Sure, she had been greeting Alastor with a hug and an overly enthusiastic ‘Papa!’ once he returned home for a few weeks already.

Her no-good deadbeat sperm donor, who swung by a few times a year to remind you two that he was still alive, including Alastor’s staunch refusal to correct her in fear of ‘breaking her little heart’ had contributed to that.

Tonight, however?

You had to speak to him about it.

There was an elephant in the room waiting to be addressed — a family portrait your daughter had shown you two before she fell asleep.

You and Alastor had smiled about it… up until you realized she had drawn you with a round belly.

“Look what I draw!”

“It’s drew, sha.”

“Yes, drew. I drew you, me, and mommy.”

“Wait, which one is supposed to be me, baby? Not the one that’s… absurdly rotund, right?”

“That is you, yes.”

“What? Why am I so round. I ain’t got no potbelly!”

Alastor had angled his head away from the two of you with a hand over his mouth, trying to conceal his amusement.

“No, mommy. This is a baby in your tummy.”

“What? I don’t have a — who told you I have a baby in my tummy?”

“Nobody, but I want one to be there. I want a brother.”

“Oh, baby, you know me and your daddy don’t… see each other no more. I can’t give you a brother if I ain’t with him, you know? He and I made you, after all.”

“No, not him. I want you and papa Ally to have one. He’s my daddy now, remember?”

“I… well, this is unexpected.”

But as you watched Alastor put your sleeping daughter to bed from the doorway, your hands nervously playing with the hem of your blouse, there was no amusement in the air between you two.

You turned away, making your way to the kitchen, where a pile of dishes awaited you on the table.

Not that you were trying to dodge him or anything.

You would rather busy yourself while you discussed the sensitive topic, which Alastor understood, much to your relief.

“So, about earlier,” You tentatively started, feeling his presence in the kitchen.

Alastor let out a curious hum.

“What of it?”

You avoided eye contact as you brushed shoulders with him, making your way to the trash to scrape food off a dish, your heart kickstarting in your chest at the small contact.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry,” You continued. “I should have sat down and spoken to her about it, but I was… shocked. I still am, to be frank. I don’t know where she got the idea from.”

Alastor let out a snort, inspiring confusion in your belly.

“Why are you apologizing?”

You still refused to meet his gaze, though.

“She made you uncomfortable, or at least it seemed as if so,” You nervously laughed.

There was a beat of silence.

Save for the scraping of silverware against chinaware, and the sound of heels clicking against wood, beads of sweat pricking at the back of your neck.

His lack of response was driving you wild.

And the feeling of him steadily approaching you was only exacerbating your nerves.

“You think a little girl is capable of making me, a 36-year-old, full grown man, feel uncomfortable?” Alastor suddenly said.

Long, slender fingers found your shoulder, urging you to turn around.

You didn’t, though.

So, he did it himself, your breath catching in your throat as he invaded your space and forced you to set aside the fork and plate in your hands on the kitchen countertop.

“I… well, you did say it was unexpected,” You stammered out.

“Unexpected, yes,” Alastor shrugged, dropping his hand and backing up to put space between you two, but only a bit. “Though certainly not unwelcome. I was simply caught off-guard.”

Besides that, he was close.

Closer than he had ever been to you, brown pools staring down at you as you struggled to hold his gaze, nervous and confused.

“Oh?” You asked.

Your heart was just about ready to jump out of your throat from how fast it was beating.

“If I was opposed to the idea of becoming a father, I would have never allowed her to address me as so,” Alastor elaborated.

“You said you didn’t want to break her heart.”

“That is true, yes, but…”

Alastor’s eyes flickered down to your lips, and though it was fleeting, it was enough to get his point across.

You reached up to tuck a strand of stray hair behind your ear, a furious blush crawling up your neck.

So much for not having the time for frivolous activities such as affairs of the heart, but you held your tongue, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Even then, he had never ventured to touch you, and thus his desire to be a father made little sense to you.

“You know what that entails, right?” You stupidly asked, as if he wasn’t a good 8 years older than you. “You have to… you know.”

He knew very well what having a child meant.

That he’d have to touch you, feel you, see you in the most raw, vulnerable ways a human could.

He stepped forward, invading your space once more.

“You don’t think I’m disgusted by you, right?” Alastor slowly asked, long, slender fingers finding the side of your neck, caressing the skin there.

A few of your buttons were undone, cleavage on display, but his eyes nor his hand didn’t stray further than your throat.

After all, he was a gentleman.

Still, you dared him to do it, nimble fingers curling around his wrist in encouragement.

“Are you?” You asked, trying your best to maintain a cool facade.

It was difficult, though, especially as his hand swept past your blouse.

His fingers smoothed over the swell of your breast before moving under your brassiere, holding the warm, supple flesh in his palm, thumb tentatively brushing over the soft peak.

You hadn’t felt another’s touch for a solid year already, but no man had ever elicited such a volatile response from your body, a quiet moan tumbling from your lips.

You were certain he’d shut the door to your daughter’s room.

However, you had to remain mindful.

“Would you invite someone you’re disgusted by into your home?” Alastor arched a curious brow at you, thumb flicking your slowly hardening nipple.

Your grip on his wrist tightened, and even more so as he leaned in, sharp nose grazing the tip of your own.

His breath ghosted over your lips, waiting, anticipating your response.

But with his other hand grasping your skirt, fingers skittering, bunching the fabric up, the only thing you could do was vigorously shake your head.

“My manman taught me not to touch others without permission, you know,” Alastor hummed, brown pools silently asking for just that. “Though I think that should be common sense.”

You stumbled backwards, rear bumping against the countertop.

Arousal churned in your belly, the space between your legs throbbing with wanton need.

You relinquished his wrist, grabbing ahold of his vest with both hands, uniting his taller, slender frame with yours as you hiked a leg over his waist.

“I used to be a whore,” You whimpered, feeling his fingers slip past the seam of your panties, finding your soaked folds.

“Oh, and I’m a murderer — the Bayou Butcher, as the papers have kindly dubbed me,” Alastor reminded you. “Which I think is infinitely worse.”

His fingers found your swollen clit, pressing and rolling against the sensitive bud, much like the thumb on your nipple.

“Alastor,” You mewled.

“I have no right to judge you. Never have, never will.”

He closed the gap between your mouths, lips capturing yours in a sweet, ghost-like kiss, your heel digging into his lower back.

“So, if you aren’t opposed to the idea, I wouldn’t mind granting your daughter what her pure little heart wants,” Alastor murmured against your lips.

He abandoned your clit, two fingers parting your folds, slipping into your entrance with ease.

You broke the kiss and met his gaze, pupils blown with obvious desire, caramel skin slightly flushed.

“And if it’s a girl?” You asked, as if it mattered.

“Then we’ll try again,” Alastor hummed, low, deep, and gravely, making your gummy walls clamp around his fingers. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Goodness, Alastor, yes!”

The door shuts with a metallic click—precise, final—marking the start of the clock.

The party’s clamor, Charlie’s laughter, and the background music vanish instantly, replaced by a modulated hum that seems to bleed from the very walls, wrapping the space in a tension you can practically taste.

Alastor remains motionless. Standing tall, he holds his cane with both hands, leaning on the pommel with studied elegance. His smile, barely visible in the gloom, betrays no nerves; instead, it reveals a calculated calm, a meticulous focus that observes and evaluates you without haste.

You are the one who decides to move first, intent on shattering that unflappable serenity. Yet, in this cramped space, you realize—perhaps too late—that the shadows aren't just a trick of the light. They seem to respond to his presence, slithering with a will of their own, tightening the perimeter and stripping away any advantage you thought you held.

Minute 1

You approach until the line of his jaw nearly grazes your forehead, forcing you to tilt your chin up. He doesn't pull away. On the contrary, he leans his face toward yours, attentive, his pupils dilated as they track the slow path of your hands over the red lapel of his coat.

"What a tiny creature… and so bold," he murmurs.

His voice sounds as if it’s emerging from an antique gramophone: an elegant timbre laced with static and the crackle of worn vinyl. There is no trace of warmth in his words, only a dangerous amusement goading you to go further. You accept the challenge and close the remaining distance, pressing your body against his in a deliberate gesture.

Alastor lets out a low, metallic laugh that vibrates against your chest. He hasn't touched you yet, but the air between you thickens, heavy with a palpable charge. The shadows loom over the closet walls, shrinking the world until only the two of you exist. He holds your gaze; his pupils, like radio dials, seem to be tuning into every heartbeat, every flicker of fear or desire. It is a silent duel—a mute competition to see who yields first to this forced proximity.

Minute 2

Fed up with his stillness, with that rigid perfection that feels sculpted from porcelain, you grab him by the bowtie. You tug with determination, forcing him down to your height and breaking his impeccable balance. His lips are now a mere breath from yours—so close you catch the metallic scent of ozone, iron, and that murky dampness that surrounds him like a halo.

If he wasn't going to break first, you would. It’s an urgent, defiant impulse, as if you’re trying to crack the flawless mask to reach the man hidden beneath the monster. Alastor responds immediately, but not with the warmth one might expect. His lips are firm, cold, calculated; his tongue meets yours with a methodical, almost ruthless precision.

His hands abandon the cane—which vanishes into the shadows—and find purchase on your waist. His claws press through the fabric with just enough intensity to warn, not to comfort. The kiss tastes of blood and static electricity. There is no surrender in it, no frantic heat; there is analysis. He studies you while savoring your audacity, and his energy invades you until reality blurs, as if the entire hotel had been reduced to dust beneath the soles of his shoes.

Minute 3

You try to pin him against the wall, intending to take control and set the pace. However, Alastor is as unyielding as a steel column. In one elegant, dizzyingly fast motion, he turns the tables before you can even blink.

Suddenly, it’s you hitting the wood of the closet, the impact drawing a stifled gasp from your lungs. He looms over you, his presence snuffing out any possibility of escape.

"I admire your enthusiasm, darling," he murmurs against your lips, his cold breath ghosting over your skin like a haunting caress. "But never forget who holds the reins here."

His knee slides between your legs, firm, knocking the air out of you and forcing you to arch your back. His hands move up your arms with purpose until he pins your wrists above your head, holding them against the wood with a single gloved hand. He keeps you completely immobilized. He watches, pleased, as your pupils blow wide and your breathing turns ragged. His smile sharpens further; his fangs graze your bottom lip in a silent promise of something dark and tempting that makes you shiver from head to toe.

Minute 4

Without releasing your wrists, Alastor lifts you off the floor with unsettling ease. You feel no strain in his muscles; it’s as if it isn't him holding you, but the shadows themselves obeying a silent command. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him for balance.

The contact is immediate, intense, nearly searing. He pulls you flush against him without reservation, letting you feel the stark firmness of his desire beneath the pristine fabric of his suit. He doesn't give off human heat; what emanates from him is a constant vibration, a low hum that seems to originate from deep within his framework, as if his very skeleton is resonating with contained power.

You begin to move against him, driven by an urgent need to soothe the tension consuming you. A distorted growl escapes his throat, like the scratch of a broken record echoing in an empty room. His red eyes glow with an appetite that has lost all playful pretense. Without warning, he tilts his head and sinks his teeth into your neck. There is no play in the gesture; it is possession, a deliberate marking. The pressure rips a sharp moan from your lips, which he instantly silences with a deep, demanding, and dominating kiss.

Minute 5

The interior of the closet floods with interference, static, and heavy breathing that strikes the wood like trapped echoes. Alastor releases your wrists, not to grant you an exit, but to slide his hands beneath your clothes with clear intent.

His fingers, ice-cold, travel up your back with calculated slowness, tracing every vertebra as if cataloging relics of immeasurable value. The friction between you turns urgent, almost rough. You fumble for his skin, unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy hands vibrating from adrenaline, while he pins you against the door so intensely the furniture creaks under your combined weight.

Every firmer thrust wrenches a low bleat from him—a momentary fracture in his impeccable neatness that feels like a suspended second. You realize then, caught between triumph and a flicker of fear, that you have pushed him to a limit where his self-control is hanging by a thread. And yet, he savors that crack in his composure, feeding on your desire just as you let yourself be swallowed by his shadow.

Minute 6

You are on the verge of collapse. The heat pooling between your legs is an untameable fire, and Alastor’s proximity is the only fuel that stokes it. His lips leave yours to descend to the reddened mark he left on your neck; he traces it with his tongue, warm and firm against your shivering skin.

"I could devour you right here and tell everyone it was a most unfortunate accident," he purrs.

The distorted vibration of his voice slides through your nervous system, weakening your defenses. His hands clamp onto your thighs with a possessive, almost painful grip, setting the tempo of the friction until you both are gasping, suspended on the edge of something the old morality of Louisiana would never tolerate.

The static surrounding you is so intense that tiny blue sparks jump where your bodies touch. He doesn't behave like a lover, but like a conqueror enjoying every sign of your surrender. And though he tries to maintain his mask of cold superiority, his body betrays him: it vibrates at the same urgent frequency as yours, while the rest of the world seems to dissolve into a storm of pure electricity.

Minute 7

The timer outside goes off like a brutal reminder of reality, tearing through the tension suspended in the air. Within a second, the firm pressure of his body vanishes.

Alastor sets you on the floor with a delicacy that is almost insulting, stepping back just as your feet find their stability and your mind tries to process the sudden void. With flawless precision, he smoothes his frock coat, adjusts his monocle, and summons his cane back from the shadows with an elegant, automatic flick of the wrist.

There is no sweat on his brow, no visible trace of effort. Only a slight disarray in his hair and the triumphant flare in his red eyes offer any evidence of what transpired.

"Ah! Seven minutes truly fly when one knows how to enjoy them, don't they, darling?" he remarks in his impeccable broadcaster's voice.

There’s a cat putting on your lap, demanding your attention, even as you try to read. His annoying little paws press on your book as he nudges you to pet his head. There’s a moment where you scratch his chin, before gently picking it up. The moment you do, his entire body purrs.

His deep purrs rumble across your hand, nuzzling closer even as his body stretches from they way you pick him up.

Still, you drop him on the cushion next to you, and it’s a development at least.

Just last month, you would have tossed it out the window, only for him to jump straight into the glass, breaking it just to go back in . . . intent on being tossed out the window once again.

A weird cats with a weird owner and their weird hobbies . . . with their equally weird obsession with you.

The cat walks right back into your lap, and eats your book with one snap of his jaw. It burps out a tiny piece of paper, before settling onto your lap with a purr.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time this has happened. That is the only reason why you grab another book from the stack nearby.

“Deerest,” you say, calling out to Alastor with a click of your tongue. “Your cat is bothering me again.”

Alastor pokes his head out the kitchen, a grin that’s a bit too annoying. “Is he now?”

“Yes, you say. “Now take him before I throw him out the window.”

“You and I know that this adorable little thing like that,” Alastor says. “And I’m tired of broken windows.”

“Get him.”

Alastor walks towards you . . . yet the moment his hand gets closer, the cat chomps on his arm. The little thing bites until he reaches bone, gnawing at Alastor’s arm like a toy.

“It bit me,” Alastor says, raising an arm, even as the cat clamps onto him. Not even a few shakes could get the cat to release its jaws. “Again.”

You turn a page on your book. “Then throw him out.”

“Have a heart, woman!” Alastor tries to shake the cat off. “ . . . Could you take him?”

“I let this thing into our home in the condition that he is your responsibility,” you say. “Yet it clings to me all day.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, momentarily ignoring the blood that drips down his arm. “That is because you are irresistible, dearest,” he says. “Now take him before dinner burns.”

With a deep, deep sigh, you take the cat, watching as his teeth unlatches from Alastor. It purrs in your arm before settling back into your lap, tongue sticking out a little.

Alastor tries to pet him, but pulls his hand back right before his finger could be bitten off. “I brought you into this house!” he says. “And yet, I’m treated this way.”

It’s easy to hide your smile as Alastor returns to the kitchen with a huff.

Still, you allow the cat to kneed his paws into your thighs with a smug smile.

You scratch underneath his chin, chuckling when his eyes slide in different directions. “And the end of the day, you are your feather’s cat,” you say. “I could never deny you, not when you look like this.”

There’s something automatic about the way you adjust the monocle on his eye, then trail your fingers down his fur to straighten his bowtie.

"You're insane..."

Chocolate brown eyes traced your figure as you grinned at your new birth certificate.

"How come? I have never felt better!", your cheerful voice chirped while you danced through your room.

An exasperated sigh left Alastor's lips.

"I cannot fathom why you gave up all your chances. You could have led such an easy life if you had just kept pretending."

"Because you are worth it, mon amour!"

You giggled and pecked his lips to which he blushed and crosses his arms. His eye twitched.

You could tell he was flustered. That's what the purity of your love did to him.

"Idiot... Ridiculous...", the radio host grumbled, his eyes darting away from you.

"Your idiot, mon chou, mon amour, my darling my-" You had pressed against him, lips moving against his cheek while you mumbled the pet names into his skin.

Alastor's cheeks burned now.

"I get it, I get it, woman! Merde."

He rolled his eyes even when his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Don't make me regret choosing you."

He gave you a warning glare even when you just giggled and covered his jaw and lips in kisses.

"You could never regret it!"

Alastor grumbled but smiled, that soft, loving smile he only ever showed you.

"Mmm... C'est vrais.. je t'aime, mon cœur."

You just smiled, that cute scrunched up smile that made Alastor's heart do somersaults.

"Je t'adore aussi, mon amour!"

Alastor leaned down and cupped your cheek gently before kissing you.

His kisses were so slow. Taking his time feeling you, loving you...

Tasting you.

His tongue would slip in between your lips as soon as you parted them. You swore he was addicted to your mouth.

His hands still remained respectfully on your waist or hips while yours tangled in his hair or held onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

When your legs gave out from how overwhelmed you got he held you up with ease. You often wondered how strong he was exactly and what he did to maintain that strength.

The day after your public display of affection for New Orleans' golden voice you had spoken to your parents and decided to reveal the truth to the people around you or at least in the eyes of the law. You didn't care that you would now experience discrimination too (though still far less than Alastor or any visible person of colour). You didn't mind not entering white only areas because you could now freely cling to Alastor's arm. Could go on dates.

Be courted publicly.

Nothing satisfied you more than to have people witness that he, Alstor Heartfelt, the rising radio star, had chosen you. You.

You still grinned like an idiot when you were in public, fingers intertwined with his.

Alastor would just roll his eyes with an affectionate grin.

Thanks to your coming clean Alastor's job was also no longer at risk. A mixed man dating a mixed woman instead of a white one? Good. No scandal, no issue, no risk.

You were even allowed to join Alastor at work, to watch him in the booth, letting his voice charm the people of New Orleans.

Sadly, you had to quit your job at the doctor's office for lying about your background but you didn't mind. You knew Alastor would provide for you.

He earned a lot for a person of colour and he promised to spoil you even if he had to work himself to death- which you wouldn't let him do of course, you would work as a nanny or cleaner if need be just to help him out.

But he was stable. He had his own place. A snug town house with elegant furniture, taxidermy and a few reconstructed animal skeletons.

You thought the for others morbid decor was just adorable. Just like the bones he had shown you all those years ago.

Alastor meanwhile saved up for a ring, instead of a diamond he opted for a ruby. The band itself was golden and simple, though it was engraved with your names.

Alastor had it custom made for you.

The proposal happened on your first year anniversary.

Alastor had cooked for you, a specialty he had said. You enjoyed the meat, it was tender and just delightful albeit a bit stringy.

You barely missed the glint of cruel satisfaction in Alastor's eyes when you had done your little happy dance as you ate.

The wine he gave you tasted slightly metallic but you assumed it was your imagination, even when his eyes darkened further behind his glasses.

After dinner you two danced to your favourite vinyl, Alastor's lips grazed your neck and you sighed into his shoulders as he began to nip at your pulse.

"I bet you taste exquisite..."

You blushed and swatted at his chest gently.

"Since when do you concern yourself with carnal pleasures?"

Alastor just hummed against your skin making you moan softly.

"Who said anything about such baser needs?"

You giggled.

"You hinted at it, mon amour"

"I was talking about your flesh... Though...", Alastor's voice dropped into a deep rumble you weren't even aware he could muster.

"I must admit that your flesh does tempt me in that regard as well."

You felt your knees buckle.

Did he light the fireplace earlier without you noticing or why was it suddenly so awfully hot?

You swallowed thickly and buried your face in his chest, too scared to look at him like this. You were sure you would be too tempted to give yourself to him right then and there if your eyes met.

Alastor's chuckle vibrated against your body and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Mon cœur..."

"N-non"

A dissatisfied hum came from your partner.

"Yn. Chérie. Regardes moi."

You whimpered, too flustered to move but you didn't want him to get annoyed so you obliged.

His beautiful brown eyes made your heart skip a beat the same way it did when he first laughed with you.

"O-oui..?"

Alastor's hands slid to your hips.

Oh.

"Tu... es une femme vraiment magnifique… Ta voix résonne à travers le monde… Ton rire, ton sourire… Ils illuminent mon cœur sombre. Je sais que tu es la femme de ma vie. La seule- I knew so from the very first day we met..."

A soft laugh escapes his lips as his fingers trace the delicate features of your face.

"J'veux être ton homme. Ton amour. Pour toujours."

You gasped when he slowly slid down your body onto one knee, his face resting just on your abdomen with his lips pressing where your uterus would be, his hands on the back of your thighs as he looked up at you with such a worshipful gaze.

It was as if the world had shrunk to those dark orbs of his. To his blinding smile.

Tears filled your eyes, your hands shaking as they clasped over your mouth when he pulled out a little black box.

"Veux-tu m’épouser ?"

The box snapped open revealing the delicate ring, the ruby looked like a human heart. It was so unique, so... Him. You. Both.

Ours

All you could do was sob.

"It's not a diamond but I supposed it would fit our... Interests more."

His eyes flit over the taxidermy and briefly hung on the remnants of your meal before he looked back up at you.

"But even a diamond could not measure up to your worth, YN. You've been by my side through every hardship, have supported me, believed in me and loved me unconditionally for the entirety of our shared life. It is time I give you what you deserve. Stability. Love. A home. Our home. Where I get to hold you and keep you safe from the scum of the world. Where I can spoil you the way you deserve to be spoiled."

He squeezed her thigh gently.

You nodded your head quickly.

"Of course... Yes. Yes! Oh god, Alastor..."

You cried, falling to your knees and right into his arms, pressing overjoyed kisses to his face, only for him to capture your lips in one of his sweetly slow kisses while lifting you with ease.

God he loved the taste of your tears.

The moment the ring was on your finger you couldn't stop smiling.

You were on cloud nine.

How couldn't you be? You were about to become Mrs. Heartfelt!

You marveled at the ring and only took it off for household shores or to bathe.

You wore it to sleep, outside and showed it to anyone who would listen.

Alastor found it... Cute. Oddly enough.

You were so happy, so in love, so his.

The wedding was held two months later in the church where you had met.

Alastor was wearing a crisp black suit with a blood red tie. Mimzy, an acquaintance Alastor had introduced you to years ago was the only one from his side who attended aside from his mother.

Your few friends who had stuck by your side despite your revealed ethnic background had filled in where it was needed. The women on your side, the men on his.

You remember when the doors opened and you started stepping towards Alastor. The man you would be calling your husband tonight.

You buzzed with excitement, the hand on your father's arm squeezing tight.

When Alastor turned the world stopped around you two.

God she was exquisite.

The white dress sinched her waist in a way that made Alastor feel light headed, a foreign feeling shooting through him.

He loved her womanly curves, the soft skin hiding beneath those clothes. He adored running his hands over the skin he could reach without undressing her. It felt so good. So untainted.

The dress was modest enough, though the corset highlighted not just her waist but also her hips. Her bust was covered in a decent manner. Good. He didn't need anyone to ogle his bride on their wedding day.

When she stopped in front of him they both smiled, eyes shining with pure adoration for one another.

They exchanged vows and rings, sealing their marriage with a deep kiss.

The wedding night was fairly uneventful. Both of you were too exhausted to consummate properly.

He had stripped you down to your lingerie at least and kissed you until your lips felt numb. His tongue had laved over the newly exposed skin slowly, reverently. His teeth had sunken into the plush flesh of your thighs, your hips, your breast.

Alastor had been worshipping you with his mouth until you grew heavy in his arms, slipping into unconsciousness. Some of his bites had been deep enough to draw blood, his tongue eagerly lapping up every single drop of your essence. Each deep bite had a deep hickey around it from his ministrations. It was like he got drunk on you, your taste...

Your flesh.

You just moaned and whimpered sweetly, letting him consume you. It felt so good to be the centre of his world.

The moment he heard your breathing even out he kissed his way up your stomach and rested his head on your chest right above your heart.

The soft pounding was the only thing that could actually soothe him. Steady, evenly paced. Alive.

With a last kiss to your breast he buried his face in your cleavage and drifted off to the rare peaceful sleep he got.

The days following your wedding were stressful, you had to get used to maintaining the house, learning its layouts while Alastor spent most of his time at work.

Still, you managed to find enough time for one another.

Gentle kisses, caresses, slow dancing to your favourite vinyl and nightly kissing.

Alastor and you tried to consummate but every time one of you would stop the other, some small thing just not working.

He usually had to stop right before you two actually fully undressed.

"I'm sorry I just..."

"It's alright, mon amour... We don't have to."

Alastor was relieved that you understood him, that you made the effort to hold back and respect his boundaries.

He didn't even know what was wrong with him.

It wasn't that he didn't want you. He did. You were the only person that made him feel an ounce of sexual desire.

He was also aroused, his body reacted positively to your touch and still he felt like something was amiss.

So for months he didn't penetrate you. He didn't mind when you ground your hips against his thigh, his face buried in your neck while you found your highs on other parts of his body.

The mewls and gasps of his name did drive him insane but not enough for him to actually act on his desires.

He enjoyed observing you though, the way your body writhed, the way you moved against him so desperately.

And he was right there, holding you, talking you through it.

"Good girl,you're being so obedient tonight"

"Mmmm... Feels good?"

"Take what you need, mon cœur"

NSFW CONTENT. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. DDDNE.

cw: hunt, choking, p in v sex, oral (f&m receiving), blood & knife play, cannibalism, dacryphilia

Two years.

Two years had passed by in a blur.

The marriage had finally found its proper rhythm, though there was one thing bothering you lately.

Alastor had begun to get home late and immediately shower or leave in the middle of the night after making sure you were dead asleep. He was just as charming and perfect as always and you knew he was loyal. But doubt clouded your mind, its grip slowly tightening around you.

Had he grown bored?

But he didn't even show any interest in carnal activities with you...

Or was that the reason why he never bedded you properly?

Did he have another?

You grew nauseous from the sheer anxiety.

No. He would never. You knew him. Fuck you knew him yet there was this traitorous voice in your head that whispered that he wasn't attracted to you after all.

One night, as he snuck out of bed two hours after you two had gone to sleep, you awoke while he dressed.

Carefully you put on a cardigan and shoes and snuck out after him, seizing the oppurtunity to find out what he was doing at night.

The one advantage you have always had over people were your light steps. You were undetectable to most, even Alastor had a hard time finding you sometimes or knowing where you'd appear from.

Your white night dress brushed along the damp grass of the bayou as you followed your husband, hands clutched in front of your chest, fingers nervously playing with your ring.

Dirt clung to your shoes and legs, the hem of your dress darkening, tainting the pristine fabric.

It was warm and damp, you felt the bugs swirl around you, clinging to your pale skin.

What was he doing out here?

Your eyes narrowed as you made out a shabby cabin in the fog. A rancid smell greeted you as you stepped closer, watching Alastor's form disappear inside with a glance over his shoulder. Luckily you had ducked behind a tree, your heart pounding, hoping he hadn't seen you.

The smell was so awful. Rotting, decaying flesh.

Death.

Your stomach turned. Your hand covering your nose and mouth.

What was he doing out here?

Then you heard it.

A scream.

You froze, your heart pounding in your ears.

Human. Screams.

You couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Just listen to the screams of the person inside followed by a familiar laughter. Panic and bile rose in your throat.

You shouldn't be here.

This was a mistake.

You need to get home you need to-

"Darling?"

Your heart dropped, you could feel his breath against your neck.

Hot. Panting.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Dread crept up your spine.

How had you not noticed him leaving the cabin? The screams stopping?

Something warm tapped your throat and you felt a cooling liquid slide down its curve.

A hunter's knife. Dripping blood. You shuddered.

"You usually talk so much... What's wrong?"

Tears welled in your eyes, letting the blade slide up to your jaw and guide you to look at him.

Your heart dropped.

Alastor didn't even look human anymore. His eyes seemed red in the dark, that charming smile twisted into something mocking and cruel. He was covered in blood, splattered onto his chest and face, crimson coating his arms up to his elbows.

"Nawww... You look adorable when you're scared..."

Alastor pressed a kiss to your cheek, humming in satisfaction when your tears started spilling, relishing in their taste.

"My poor, sweet wife..."

His free hand caressed your hair, bloodied fingers twirling you strands carefully.

"You didn't expect your husband to be such a monster, huh?"

Your eyes drifted down to the blade, the crimson of the victim's blood glistening in the dim moon light.

You felt his hand slowly run down the back of your head, to your jaw before it grasped your neck, fingers digging into your wind pipe. You gasped, fingers wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to free yourself.

"Go on... Try and run. I'll even give you a head start."

Alastor shoved you to the ground, your eyes searched his seeing a flicker of pain. Hesitance.

You tumbled to the ground but when Alastor started to move towards you, your eyes taking in his blood covered form fully, you ran.

You were sprinting through the bayou, sobs tearing out of your throat.

You couldn't believe this was happening.

Behind you Alastor's heavy footsteps came closer.

The air burned in your lungs, your legs felt weak and your vision got blurry from the tears...

But you never felt so alive.

So thrilled.

So excited.

So vulnerable.

A shameful part of you enjoyed it. You didn't know why, it was insane. You were insane at this point.

The white of your gown billowed behind you, the darkness of the mud clinging to it and your legs, progressively dirtying you more and more.

Blood stuck to your chest from where droplets of Alastor's kill had landed on your delicate skin.

You were tainted.

You looked over your shoulder just to see the manic expression on your husband's face, his eyes practically glowing red, face flushed and his shirt unbottoned. The usually neat curls were clinging to his forehead, tousled, wild.

Heat pooled in your gut.

Oh.

Not the best time to feel like this.

But that quick glance was enough to distract you and you tripped, tumbling onto the damp grass with Alastor immediately following, pinning you down with his legs while you struggled against him.

He laughed, wiping his knife at his sleeve, hungry eyes never leaving yours.

Oh...

You whimpered, tears still streaming down your face, he leaned down dragging his tongue along your cheek.

"Mmmm... Your tears taste delightful.."

A deep chuckle rumbled through him, you felt his knife press into your throat, barely cutting.

A thin line of crimson bloomed on your skin, drawing Alastor's gaze.

"Mmmm... Cry... Bleed more... Can you do that? For me?"

You swallowed, eyes squeezing shut when Alastor kissed the cut, lapping at it greedily.

That was the first time you heard him moan. And god was it addictive.

"So... Sweet. The only sweetness I admittedly enjoy.."

Alastor sighed, hands shaking.

"What a pain... You were so beautiful... So perfect... Why did you have to follow me out here, hm?"

The blade dug more into your skin.

"You will make a nice meal..."

"W-wait- Alastor-"

You grasped his wrist again, stopping him from cutting. You cried more.

"P-please- I.. We can talk, yes? Please... I don't..."

You cried and shook your head, sobbing.

It was enough to make Alastor pause and tilt his head, leaning down to kiss your tears away while shushing you.

"Please, please I'll stay quiet! I swear- Alastor I would never... Betray you!"

He subsequently silenced you with a kiss. You whimpered against his lips, allowing him to nip freely, drawing blood and watching it tint them prettily.

With a contemplative hum he licked at your lips, savouring the taste of your mouth and blood.

You kissed back desperately, pleading with him, hoping, praying he would hear your out.

The more you begged the more you could feel Alastor hesitate. His body relaxed more and his shaky hands settled on your plush thighs, the blade pressing against your hip.

He pulled away to let you breathe, eyes searching your face for any hint of deception.

He found none.

All he found was you desperate hope and love.

"I-I told you... Remember? I love you unconditionally I-... I would never, ever betray you..."

Tears welled in your eyes again and you cupped his cheeks gently.

Alastor stared down at you. Something about those tears, the blood on you and the remaining adrenaline rush from the hunt made him pause.

Ah.

He smiled. Normally. Though his eyes darkened in a different way.

"M-mon amour?"

Your lips quivered adorably and Alastor chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against yours.

"You're so endearingly stupid. You find yourself pressed to the ground in the bayou, chased by a serial killer and you profess your undying love?"

Heat crept up your neck and you pouted at him, your fear replaced by mild annoyance.

Alastor's eyes raked over your form, the way your nipples pebbled under your thin gown, the way your hair fanned out around your head.

The way the blood clung to your skin and clothes.

A purr like rumble emitted from him.

Delicious.

"I suppose I found...", his knife trailed along your thigh, up your hip, up your stomach. "What I had been missing..."

Your blush deepened.

Oh.

"Y-you feel it... Too..?"

You swallowed, watching him stand and pull you up with him.

"Let's make a deal. You will never speak of this ever again... And I will spare you."

"O-of course! Alastor, I..."

You chewed on your lip.

"I actually... Want to help... And learn..."

Surprise shot through Alastor alongside a twisted sense of love and kinship.

"Ah... Mon cœur..."

He kissed you again, relief flooding both of you when you realised just how well you understood each other, despite the morbid absurdity of the situation.

"Now..." Alastor's lips moved against yours while he whispered. "I'll give you a head start back to the house. You know which direction?"

You paused to think before nodding, earning a smile from your beloved.

"Good girl."

With that he straightened up and twirled his knife, counting down. You started running back to your house immediately. The chase felt amazing, the now controlled sense of helplessness.

The thoughts and fantasies of what he may do to you.

Once you reached your home he had you pinned against the wall, knife to your throat and his lips on yours.

You could only moan pathetically while his free hand pulled you closer against him.

He even chased you through your home until you landed on the bed.

Alastor traced your curves with the knife before cutting the straps of your dress.

Snap.

Snap.

With a low hum he dragged the knife down your chest, slowly, teasingly pulling the top of your dress down to expose your breasts.

You blushed beautifully beneath him, watching entranced as your husband's eyes glinted with proper hunger. Want. Desire.

A sigh left your lips when he leaned down, tongue flicking over your nipple, suckling gently. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his teeth tugging, biting, his tongue flicking and swirling around the tight bud in circles.

Your hands found their way to his curls playing with the soft locks.

His mouth felt amazing on you.

"Darling, may I?"

He kissed your breast, dark eyes peering up at you. The knife was pressed to your breast.

You swallowed but nodded, getting what he wanted.

Alastor gently cut into your skin, just enough to draw blood, watching it trickle to your nipple before he latched on again.

He moaned in satisfaction, adoring the taste of your skin and blood.

"Almost a pity I cannot eat you..."

You laughed breathlessly.

"Y-you were serious...?"

Alastor looked up at you, smirking around the mouthful of your flesh in his mouth.

"You're impossible..."

You pouted down at him but just caressed his face gently.

"Perhaps if I die before you"

Your husband hummed and went back to cut at your skin, lapping up every dingle drop of your blood eagerly.

His tongue travelled up to your neck, biting down while he rid himself of his clothes. He was marking you, biting, sucking and licking at your sweet spot to elicit the cutest sounds from you. Moan after moan, mewl after mewl.

When he pulled back you bit your lip, face flushing further.

It was the first time you saw him fully naked, his erection pulsing slightly. He was thick but you couldn't quite gauge his exact size though it already looked like you couldn't take it. It was bigger than what your friends had described about their husbands during hushed, drunken conversations.

"O-oh..."

You reached out and poked the tip, a drop of precum leaking out.

Alastor observed you, letting you explore him with your delicate hands. They looked so small compared to him.

You stroked and caressed carefully.

Meanwhile his hands ran up and down your sides and hips, watching you with a smile.

Riiiippp...

You gasped, eyes flying open when his fingers dug into your dress and just ripped it open.

A gush of arousal immediately dampened your already soaked panties.

"A-ah- Mon amour-!"

Your face was bright red, body shaking in surprise.

Alastor just smirked and leaned down, covering your stomach in love bites, some deep, some just to leave the rough imprint of his teeth.

He even started cutting into your skin again, humming at the way your blood danced over your skin.

His fingers trailed the crimson lines, painting shapes onto your body with your own blood.

You were so beautiful. Ethereal.

The way you writhed under him in pain and anticipation. Bleeding.

Alastor inhaled and closed his eyes, the smell of your blood mixing with that of your arousal made his cock twitch in anticipation.

This is what he needed.

He loomed over you and you felt his knife slide under your panty.

You froze, looking down to watch him cut open your underwear.

Fuck.

You didn't think you could be even wetter.

Alastor's eyes took in your exposed cunt with a curious look, his head tilting almost adorably.

You held your breath, anticipation curling in your gut.

Your husband merely grabbed your thighs and pushed them to your chest, folding you in half to get a better look.

Your folds were all puffy and glistening with your sweet nectar.

Without a word Alastor just leaned down, dragging his long tongue along your slit.

You gasped sharply.

"A-alastor-"

But he just shushed you, sending you a sharp glare before focusing on your sweet cunt.

His tongue and lips explored carefully. It was as if he was tentatively making out with your lower lips and getting absolutely lost in the taste.

Moans and grunts left him, their vibrations sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

Your hands found his hair again, your back arching slightly while he feasted on your core. You could just moan whorishly, eyes squeezing shut.

Alastor held you open with his thumbs to get a better look. He flicked his tongue against your clit and when he noticed how much pleasure you got from it he focused it, sucking on it and stimulating it with the wet muscle.

You were seeing stars, praise tumbling from your lips alongside his name like a mantra.

With a lost gasp of his name you came. Faster than expected. You had heard stories of some women not even finishing and here was your husband, bringing you to your climax in the span of mere minutes.

Alastor lapped up your cum immediately, moaning in satisfaction.

He pulled away, lips and chin glistening with your nectar.

"You truly taste exquisite, mon cœur"

He grinned brightly when you hid your face with your hands in embarrassment.

At least he was considerate enough to let you catch your breath, though to his surprise you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Hm... I suppose I do... But I am curious how you taste, my love..."

You gently pushed him back until he was laying down and you settled between his thighs now, fingers curling around his heavy shaft.

You eyed it unsure.

"I don't think it will fit, to be quite honest..."

"Nonsense...", Alastor's voice was husky as he watched you examine his cock. "You were made for me. Surely you will be able to take me, hm?"

He pet your head gently while you started peppering kisses along his member. Your lips were so soft, so warm...

Alastor made that purr sound again.

Carefully you wrapped your lips around the tip and suckles, eyes searching his.

Alastor's smile tightened, head falling back slightly, though he kept watching you.

You smiled around him and moved your head slowly, taking more and more of him into your mouth, sucking gently while your tongue dragged along his underside.

The taste wasn't bad, even the precum was pleasant to you.

You took your time, your hands stroking whatever you couldn't fit.

Alastor moaned lowly, fingers coming through your locks gently.

"You're doing so well, mon amour... Ma magnifique belle..."

You smiled at him again, even with his cock stuffed halfway down your throat.

Alastor wished he could keep that image in physical form forever. It was addictive. So addictive in fact, that he felt his orgasm approach.

Hm.

As much as he would love to have you swallow his seed he pulled you off by your hair, laughing when a protesting whimper left you, your lips pursing in the sweetest pout.

"Lay down, darling."

You huffed but obliged, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Ready?"

You took a deep breath and nodded.

"Mhm..."

Alastor smiled and kissed your temple while slowly pushing in.

The stretch was a lot but not as bad as you had thought.

Your nails dug into his neck and shoulder. You were panting, adjusting to the intrusion.

Luckily Alastor could control himself despite how tight you felt around him. He pushed as slow as possible, whispering sweet nothings into your hair to help you relax.

Slowly but surely he filled you. Only when he felt you loosen up, relaxing around him did he move. Slow controlled thrusts to help you get used to the feeling.

You bit your lip, still adjusting, the pain slowly turning into pleasure.

The few tears that slipped down your cheeks were immediately greeted by Alastor's tongue.

"You're doing so well, my darling."

He pressed kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips.

"Y-you can... Go faster..."

Alstor looked in your eyes before he shifted slightly. Suddenly his hips snapped forward, elciting a high pitched mewl from you.

The new thrusts were sharp, hard and slow paced. It was a rhythm he built for you to feel every inch of his filling you up. Your eyes fluttered.

God it felt good.

Alastor grunted and groaned above you, slowly picking up speed. He enjoyed watching your expressions, the way your eyes rolled back when his tip hit that one spot inside you.

It was far better than the act itself. Far more gratifying.

Perhaps he could indulge more often after all.

You noticed Alastor's glasses fogging up and you gently took them off, placing them on the nightstand.

He squinted.

"Mon cœur"

You peered up at him.

"I can't see."

You snickered, pulling him on close.

"No need to see when you can feel, no?"

Alastor narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly you felt him left your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders.

You gasped, eyes widening as he gripped your hips and lifted your lower half, fucking into you with a nearly punishing pace.

"Care to... Elaborate your incessant backtalk?"

You could just scream, fingers digging into your pillow beside your head, your back arching as Alastor pounded into you with increasing speed just to go back to the hard spaced out thrusts from earlier.

It was driving you insane.

Alastor just kept holding you up, driving into you with precise thrusts that abused your poor g-spot.

"A-alastor I'm- I'm c-"

With a sharp gasp you came, thighs shaking when he, instead of filling you or pulling out, kept fucking you senseless.

Another orgasm hit you while you still tried to scramble away desperately.

"Cute."

You saw his mocking grin through your tears.

Oh how you wished to wipe that grin off his stupidly handsome face.

He pulled put and laid you down, only to flip you onto your back and raising your hips. Your upper body was pressed into the mattress by his hand im between your shoulder blades, your lower body held up by your shaking legs.

"Mhmm... Good girl..."

Alastor patted your ass, biting into your right cheek before re-entering you.

Your moans echoed through the room along with the steady slapping of skin against skin.

"I ought to mark your back too... Perhaps I should carve my name... Here?"

His hand slid up your spine and you just whined.

"Hmhmm... I had the same thought... I should cover your entire body in my name."

His thrusts became harder, his larger frame leaning over you.

One hand held up your hip while the other wrapped around your neck to choke you.

You wheezed and gasped, desperately trying to get air while he pounded you further and further into the mattress.

"I can feel you clench whenever I tighten my grip, you know?"

His mocking voice sounded right next to your ear and you whimpered helplessly, clawing at th sheets and pillows.

You were getting lightheaded, your vision blurring.

"Mhh... You look so pretty when you're fighting death, mon cœur."

He chuckled and kissed your cheek, loosening his grip so you could suck in some much needed air.

You were so dizzy, the pleasure mixing with the overwhelming amount of oxygen you could finally take in.

"Such an obedient darling you are..."

You came from his voice this time, a strangled, choked out moan errupting from your throat.

Alastor hummed and kissed your shoulder before manhandling you again, perching you atop his lap, pulling you down onto his cock just to bounce you up and down.

Your head lolled back, your once pristine skin marred by his dark handprints on your throat and hips, the still bleeding cuts on your torso and his bite marks.

You were ruined.

So beautifully ruined.

So his.

The sight of you helplessly bouncing on him with each one of his thrusts was enough to finally make him cum.

He made sure to slam you down, to listen to you babble and gasp as your last orgasm of the night hit you.

You could feel his seed fill you up. A shaky moan left your lips.

Hm. He really could get used to seeing you like this.

The exhaustion from your earlier chase and your activities finally engulfed you and you collapsed on top of your husband.

You barely heard him when he stroked your hair and back carefully before getting up to grab some towels to clean you up.

"You're perfect, mon cœur. Je t'aime..."

This took me way too long to write..... I'm sorry 😭

I don't even know if this makes sense (feel free to ask questions TT)

But essentially; Bestie is so whipped she will ignore all the red flags for hubby</3

Hope you still enjoyed!!

Taglist:

I snuck a look at him. The TV demon was still talking animatedly into his phone—perfect smile, smooth cadence, graceful hand motions.

Except the static in the air felt heavier. Denser. Irritated.

If I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I would’ve missed the tells.

His fingers tapped the desk too sharply.

The corners of his smile twitched.

Every screen in the room flickered a fraction darker.

Something was off.

Our gazes met. Red eyes rimmed with blue static. My heart stuttered. I looked away. The tension coiled tighter around my ribs.

Shockwave swam in tight circles, mirroring my nerves. I tried to breathe. Tried not to spiral. Tried not to think: I’m so screwed.

When Vox finally cleared his throat, the sound cracked through the room like lightning.

“Sir?” I straightened automatically.

His smile was too controlled. “Y’know,” he began lightly, “I’ve been thinking.”

My stomach twisted. Vox thinking was dangerous. People got rewarded… or destroyed.

“You call yourself my assistant,” he continued, lounging back. “But you haven’t been very invested lately.”

“I—have I done something wrong?”

“You didn’t,” he snapped—too harsh. He inhaled sharply, like the breath hurt. “You didn’t. You’re good. You’re…” His smile twitched, glitch-lines crawling across it. He reset instantly. “—Great.”

Then he smiled wider.

“You’re fired, sweetheart.”

He said it with a little laugh. Like he was joking. But I knew he wasn’t. If anything, I was the joke. He said it like we were nothing. Like, I didn’t mean anything to him.

The floor dropped out from under me. My chest hollowed. The buzz of the monitors suddenly became deafening.

He looked away—too fast. Like watching me break was unbearable. Or maybe that was just my stupid, desperate imagination.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

I don’t remember standing. I don’t remember walking. One blink and I was outside his office, the door shutting behind me like a final verdict.

I speed-walk over to my office. A glorified closet, honestly. I only dealt with it because the job paid well and Vox was… Vox. My hands shake as I bring out a box. I’m fucking fired.

My hands move on their own. They shred papers and taxes. They sweep everything that’s mine into the box and everything Vox gave me into the trash can. The digital drawing tablet? Trash. The super cool watch? Trash. The signed picture of him that was supposed to be a gag gift? Trash.

The only thing I kept was the jacket he gave me for my birthday—a dark blue VoxTech hoodie with red circuitry lines and my initials embroidered inside the collar. I tell myself I’m keeping it because it’s stylish and expensive. I’m a liar.

Once I’m done making a mess of my closet office, I storm out—my heart races. What was I supposed to do now?

I was… just another cog in Vox’s machine. Replaceable. Disposable. I was tossed aside. I started shaking again. My eyes burned. Stop crying. He’s just a man. You were just an employee. There was no we. There was never a we.

Taking a deep breath. I continue walking. I could go groveling back to Vox, humiliate myself, and hope he let me crawl back in. Or I could try Carmilla’s weapons company… but I’d need a portfolio, references, the whole nightmare. I wish I could just have a break.

I pass by Valentino’s studio on my way out. Angel was… one of the only people here who actually treated me like a person. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I just had to be quick. Cinder would be waiting at home, but who knew how long “home” would still be home.

I try to keep my eyes away from all the naked bodies, but there’s so much skin, I fail. I notice bruises on some of the extras. People are rushing everywhere as Val yells at them. Clothes and props fly everywhere. It smells like perfume and sweat. I hate Valentino so fucking much. He hates me, too.

I wait in the dressing room. Angel usually has a break around this time. I shivered, remembering what happened the last time I was here. Val was an absolute dickhead, and I wish I could do something, anything. But here I was a coward and now jobless.

Alone in the dressing room, I repeated thoughts over and over like a mantra.

“It’s just a job.”

“He doesn’t care.”

“I don’t care.”

Soon Angel pushed the door open with his hip, complaining about something Val had yelled at him about. “—and THEN the bastard threw a whole shoe at my head! A SHOE! Like I’m some kinda—”

He stopped mid-rant when he saw me. His grin spread slowly and genuinely. “Heyyy, you waitin’ for me?” He flopped dramatically onto the vanity chair, and the guy he was talking to awkwardly backed out of the room.

Taking my eyes off Angel’s coworker, I tried to smile. “Yeah. I… I needed to talk to you.”

Angel’s expression changed slightly. Still playful, but alert too. “Aw hell. You look like someone kicked Cinder. Or like Valentino offered you a hug. What happened? Vox yell atcha? Ya look like you seen a demon.”

My throat tightened. “Angel… I got fired.”

Angel froze. “Fired? By Vox??”

You nodded.

Angel’s face twisted — anger, sadness, something softer.

“…you look like somebody ripped out your heart with pliers.” He said it gently, without the usual showmanship.

“I’m fine,” I lied, lip trembling.

He huffed. “Sweetheart, you ain’t.” His lower hand squeezed my shoulder. “Did you cry?”

You swallowed. “No.”

“Did Vox look pissed? Or… y’know…” Angel waved a hand vaguely. “…all weird and twitchy?”

You froze. Nodded. Because yes — he had.

Angel sighed. “So he did that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where he acts all cold, even though he’s feelin’ six emotions at once under the screen saver.” Angel crossed his arms. “Look, you two were close. Closer than he lets people be.”

Your breath stung.

“He didn’t fire you because you suck,” Angel continued. “He fired you because he’s Vox — and Vox ruins things the second he starts to care about ‘em.”

I shrug weakly and try to change the subject. “I just need… need to figure out what to do next. I don’t really have anywhere to go. And I don’t want to beg Vox to take me back.”

Angel scoffed, waving a hand. “First off—don’t you dare grovel to that walking flatscreen. He ain’t worth the polish on your damn toenails.”

I let out a breathy laugh. Angel brightened a little at that.

“Second,” he continued, softer, “ya know Charlie’s hotel’s always open, right? Free room, free food, therapy if ya want it.”

I blinked. That sounded good, but- “I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

Angel gave me the look. The one that said he liked me too much to let me bullshit myself.

“Trust me. You walk in, Charlie’ll throw confetti, Alastor’ll stare like you’re a bug, Vaggie’ll probably welcome you after a security check.”

I snort again. Angel smirked. “See? You’re already smilin’.”

“I just…” You look down. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Then don’t be.” Angel asserted. “I’ll bring you to the hotel with me, get you introduced, and then you can crash there.”

I swallow, overwhelmed. “You… really think it’s okay?”

Angel shrugged, grinning widely. “Charlie loves takin’ in strays. She’ll be thrilled.”

“Now let’s go before Val has me working overtime.”

“Oh my gosh! A new hotel resident!”

Charlie actually throws confetti. Literal confetti. Angel wasn’t kidding.

I blink as glittery paper rains down on me. I manage a small smile—her excitement is… weirdly refreshing after the day I’ve had. It’s hard not to absorb even a little of that sunshine.

She stepped in for a hug, and Cinder—who had crawled up into my arms on the walk over—yowled and bolted into the shadows, offended by the sudden affection.

Great. Now both my cat and I were panicking.

I stiffened. Too close. Too soon. Too much. I gently peeled Charlie’s arms off me just as a hand landed on my shoulder. Static crawled across my spine.

Alastor.

“Well, well,” he purred, “what a surprise.” Vox said plenty about Alastor—none of it reassuring.

I give him a grimace of a smile. “Ah—sorry, but can you remove your hand? I’m just… not big on touch.”

His hand falls, but his eyes watch me. Only then do I realize I’m wearing the VoxTech hoodie. First impression, and I’m literally wrapped in the branding of Alastor’s greatest rival.

His grin sharpened. “Oh dear, Vox let his little favorite slip away? How careless. How unlike him.” His neck bent as he spoke, static crackling with each movement.

“I wasn’t—” I stopped, heat rising. “I wasn’t his favorite.”

“Sure you weren’t,” He said condescendingly. “Wearing his colors still? Either loyalty… or heartbreak. I wonder which.”

It felt like a punch.

Angel steps in front of me like a sparkly pink shield. “Alright, strawberry pimp, back it up.”

I adore him a little for that.

“She literally walked in the door five seconds ago. Don’t go scarin’ her already.”

Alastor’s smile thins—still polite, but no longer pleasant. A predator denied an early taste.

“No offense meant. I’m simply curious.”

Charlie jumps in, hands fluttering. “Angel’s right! We want her to feel welcome, not overwhelmed. Sorry! I get excited.” She looks at me, worry softening her demeanor. “Are you okay? We’re not too much, are we?”

I exhale, shoulders finally loosening a fraction. “I just… had a long day.”

Understatement of the century.

“Why don’t I show you your room?” Charlie chirps.

For the first time since Vox fired me, something in my chest eases.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’d… like that.”

Angel hooks an arm around my shoulder—light, cautious, waiting to see if I’ll flinch.