Shiny Things I Found On The Internet

Sorry for the little impromptu hiatus y’all- but WERE BACK! And time skipping a couple months to get to the good stuff! Ahhh, I’m so excited for these upcoming chapters y’all have no idea!!

But here are the previous ones (along with some little one-shots/writing exercises I wrote from Alastor POV):

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Alastor’s POV

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 11- Alastor’s POV

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18/intermission

And HERE is the AO3 link for this chapter as well! Okayyy pretty sure that’s all the housekeeping stuff- so on with the show!

CW/TW: alludes to and mentions violence, anxiety-flavored Charlie, toxic work dynamic/demon deals, controlling partner, controlling/over-protective Alastor, competitive couple, demi-Alastor

Chapter 19: Music Lessons and a Challenge…

Day 29,229 in Hell:

Day 98 at the Hazbin Hotel:

“Seriously Wifey, you gotta check out at least some of the newer music! There’s nothing here post 1935!” Angel gripes as he flips through some of the sheet music I’ve amassed for our lesson today. I arch a brow at him.

“You’re the one who wanted to learn the trumpet. It’s not my fault all the best songs for that happen to come from the best era of jazz.” I say, putting a hand on my hip as I gesture to all the music I’ve gathered for him to choose from today.

“And that’s not even true! I’ve got some pieces from the 40’s too, that’s newer!” I protest and Angel sighs heavily.

“You know that we’re onto the years that start with ‘20’ now, right? The 40’s are almost a century old!” He quips before laughing at my dropped jaw.

I grumble under my breath as the two of us dig through the massive amounts of sheet music for something Angel might deem ‘current’ enough.

 In addition to my own collection, Charlie and Vaggie have amassed some more ‘up to date’ options as well. Though, none of them appear to have a half-way decent trumpet line…not to mention all the ‘synth’ required for some of the newer pieces. 

I sigh, leaning back in my chair- perking up only slightly as Charlie comes bustling down the stairs with her arms full of papers.

“Are you joining us today Charlie? It’s been a while, but I found a few pieces that have some solid guitar parts…if you’re still interested…?” I offer, trailing off as the Princess unloads the stack of papers in her hand onto a nearby couch.

The Princess nods absentmindedly without actually answering- her eyes never leave the stack of papers as she separates the pile into smaller groups on the coffee table in front of the couch. I arch a brow.

“Or if you need the lobby, Angel and I can move to the music room?” I offer, standing and stepping towards her to peer over her shoulder.

The papers before her appear to consist of notes in her own handwriting, detailing some trust exercises she’s run. The stack she’s separating out appears to have Angel’s name at the top with few more detailed notes, specifically relating to him and some of his responses during said ecersizes…

I avert my gaze without reading further- not wanting to snoop- I return my attention to Charlie. The Princess still hasn’t actually answered or even acknowledged either of my questions… I frown.

The Princess Morningstar looks …distraught. Her hair is matted and tangled in places, coming loose from her usual banded ponytail. Her eyes look slightly bloodshot as well, like she hasn’t slept much, and her pale skin has an unhealthy sheen to it…

I share a worried look with Angel before trying to get her attention again. 

“Charlie, are you…alright?” I try again, placing a tentative hand on the Princess’s shoulder. She startles and her tired eyes focus on the two of us, then on the sheet music behind me.

“Oh! Sorry you guys, maybe some other time! I just really wanna nail down some, uh, redemption techniques! There are still so many we haven’t tried!” She says, her voice sounding a little too shrill and strained for me to believe her. 

“Like what?” Angel asks, crossing all 4 of his arms, clearly not convinced either. Charlie’s eye twitches.

“Like…well, um, you’ll just have to wait and see! I’m sure there’s something in here we haven’t tried! Oh! Actually, I forgot some of my notes upstairs! If I grab those and cross reference them with these, then I should be able to figure all this out..” Charlie chatters as she makes her way back up the stairs. I frown.

Granted, the hotel has yet to redeem anyone in these last few months…but surely these things take time? If it’s even possible at all…I bite my lip. 

There’s an anxious knot in my stomach. If Charlie’s aspirations aren’t actually achievable, afterlife would continue on for us souls with little to no change. But for the Princess? I’m not sure how she’d cope if it’s proven that we’re all actually irredeemable…

The disquieting thought is quickly chased away by the feel of Alastor’s arms around me. A grin tugs at my lips as I feel him materialize from the shadows beneath my feet, I twist in his embrace.

“You’re late.” I say with as much mock-annoyance as I can muster, but I know my grin gives me away. Alastor grins in reply before leaning forward to place a quick, chaste kiss to the crown of my head. 

“Nonsense, you started early. I am on time, as promised.” Alastor replies quickly and confidently before leaning in to whisper in a voice only I can hear.

“You’re lucky I didn’t yank you back beneath the covers when you got out of bed at such an unholy hour. In fact, I think we might need to make up for that lost time later…” he teases and I feel my face flush. Angel sighs dramatically behind us.

“Are you two gonna be like… this the whole music lesson again?” He asks, arching an amused brow at Alastor’s arms still wrapped around me. I feel my face flush, but Alastor arches a brow.

“Like what?” He asks, feigning ignorance and I can’t help but chuckle. Angel groans like that proves his point.

“Like all smushed up against each other with the whisper flirting! It’s kinda exhausting for us onlookers how weirdly adorable you two are y’know!?” He says, gesturing to our bodies still locked in an embrace with all four of his arms. Alastor’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t recall forcing you to watch.” He says simply and Angel laughs.

“Kinda hard not to, Smiles!” He teases and Alastor’s ears twitch in annoyance.

This time I arch a brow. 

“Weren’t you the one who streamed one of your…adult films for all us onlookers for ‘show and tell day’?” I quip and Angel shrugs his shoulders.

“That was the assignment! I showed you guys my best film and told ya how it scored me a win over that bitch, Tiffany TitFuckr!” He protests and I laugh. 

“And you don’t think that might be the tiniest bit hypocritical?” I tease and Angel rolls his eyes. Before he can reply, a chime sounds from his phone. 

He pulls the small annoying piece of technology from his pocket to glance at the screen.

There’s a split second where the light leaves Angel’s eyes and his smirk falters as his expression momentarily collapses. Then, in an instant, it’s gone. Replaced by his typical sarcastic smirk and bemused expression. 

“Looks like you two have the music lesson all to yourselves today after all! So, whisper flirt all you want I guess. I gotta get to work…” he says in a teasing tone before muttering the last few words. I frown.

It’s the sixth time this month Angel’s missed a music lesson for work. My gaze flicks to the phone in his hand and then back to Angel’s practiced facade of indifference.

“Angel…? If you want we could postpone the lesson?” I offer, and the spider Sinner turns to give me a reassuring grin, waving a dismissive hand.

“Don’t do all that on my account, Wifey, I’ll just have to catch the next one!” He says lightly, but there’s a forced-sounding undertone to the words. I wrinkle my nose at the thought of anyone forcing Angel to do anything and add,

“Or…perhaps I could try speaking to Val-” I start to offer and Angel’s frame goes rigid as he pauses and meets my gaze, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“I’d rather ya didn’t, Wifey. I still don’t think Val’s over the last time Charlie tried to speak with him…” he says, eyes glazing over for a moment before refocusing and offering another easy grin.

“Besides, this’ll give you two some time to find a song from this century! I expect pop and ska when I get back!” He says teasingly before donning his sunglasses and striding out the door of the lobby. 

I turn to Alastor, who is watching me with a curious expression on his face. I tilt my head to the side and meet his gaze.

“Well, I suppose it’s just us again then…” I say with a slight shrug of my shoulders and Alastor grins.

“I shall try to keep you entertained, my Dear.” 

*******

“Dearest?” Alastor’s gentle prodding pulls my focus from the sad look on Angel’s face and back to the piano beneath our fingers and the music on the pages in front of us.

“Yes?” I murmur, glancing to my side to catch my husband’s look of concern. His smile thins at the question.

“You were meant to join in seven measures ago…” he offers and I feel my cheeks heat. 

“Right! I’m sorry darling, my head’s a bit fuzzy today. Should we pick it up from there, then?” I ask as I lift my hands to settle my fingers on the appropriate keys. 

Alastor eyes me for a moment before lowering his own hands from the piano. 

“Or…perhaps you could simply tell me what has your head feeling ‘fuzzy’?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes scanning my face with that same concern.

I swallow, suddenly nervous. Alastor’s eyes track the movement and his brows pinch even closer together.

“Mon Coeur, what’s wrong?” He asks, voice suddenly a soft whisper that makes the music room around us feel suddenly small. Like a bubble of bliss. 

That’s what it always feels like, to be alone with him. A perfect, cozy, comfortable bubble.

But I feel suddenly aware of the edges of that bubble. Of what lies just beyond our little sphere of love and care.

These last few months in the hotel have felt like a second iteration of our honeymoon. All warm and fuzzy feelings with heaps of affection- both physical and otherwise- and very little actual…conversation.

And there are conversations we should have…Yet, asking the questions to start them feels so…nerve-wracking. 

I bite my lower lip, debating a moment, before shoving the first question that comes to mind out of my mouth- before I can change my mind.

“What do you know about Valentino?” I ask, the words falling out in a rush. 

Alastor blinks. Then blinks again before raising a quizzical brow. The expression of concern is gone and replaced by a mild sense of bewilderment.

“The moth?” He clarifies, still sounding baffled, like the words are the last thing he expected to hear me say. I nod, watching my husband’s lips purse before he answers.

“I don’t know much more than anyone else. His abilities are rather lackluster, if a bit grotesque…all smoke and saliva.” Alastor wrinkles his nose in distaste as he continues,

“I also know that he typically insists on fighting with those two gaudy, golden guns he totes about, despite being a rather terrible shot…why do you ask?” 

He rattles off the information with ease, like he’s reading bullet points from a set of notecards. Still eyeing me curiously, he awaits my reply. I shrug as nonchalantly as I can while mentally making a note of the information.

“I was just wondering…what about how he makes his deals? I know the Vees have contracts made for most of those they employ…” I trail off as I watch as Alastor’s ears flatten at the word ‘Vees’. He cocks his head at the mention of the contracts and narrows his eyes.

“Is this about the spider’s work schedule?” He guesses and I purse my lips. Alastor sighs.

“Dearest, if it troubles you so, we can postpone the lesson until he returns. I’ll admit the spider can play a half-decent trumpet, but there’s no sense poking around his contract.” He says in a straightforward tone with a sense of finality to the words as he rises from the piano bench.

He grins and offers his arm, as if the problem has been solved. I frown. 

“Why not?” I push before I can think better of it and he cocks a brow.

“‘Why not’, what?” He asks in a light casual tone that sounds like he wishes I’d drop the subject. 

“Why do you think there’s no use poking around Angel’s contract with Valentino?” I offer in the same casual cadence, but enunciating every syllable to make it clear it’s not a thing I’m willing to drop. Static crackles around him before he speaks.

“Don’t you think Charlie’s latest attempt to get the spider time off is evidence enough as to ‘why not’? She’s a monarch in this realm, Ma Cher, and even she can’t argue a Deal once it’s made.” Alastor’s words are clipped and cold in a way that he rarely is with me.

The tone and his words sends a small chill down my spine. There’s something in the way he enunciates the word ‘deal’ that makes my skin crawl. Like it’s a proper noun. Like it’s a thing to be both respected and feared…

“But…don’t you think that most deals have a work around? A loophole to take advantage of? Perhaps, if I could just see the contract… I could help him…” I trail off as the look on Alastor’s face shifts to something deadly serious. 

He’s completely still for a moment. 

So much so that I wonder briefly if my question has cast some kind of spell on my husband, to leave him so…frozen. His ever present smile looking like that of a ghost…

The movement of him placing a hand on my shoulder doesn’t seem to break the spell either, and his voice is surrounded by static when he speaks.

“Mon Coeur, how do you suppose those three lesser demons that call themselves ‘the Vees’ have managed to prop themselves up in that tower?” He asks slowly, his lip curling slightly as he calls the Vees by their moniker. 

I shrug my shoulders and Alastor continues,

“I have a theory. Because you are correct, Sinners in their employ sign contracts. Not handshake deals as you made with Carmilla, but scrupulous contracts for their very souls.” He says and I feel my skin prickle with goosebumps as I begin to understand his meaning. 

Alastor’s eyes dart to the raised bumps along my skin and then back to my face. He stoops low to bring his gaze level with mine, taking my face in his hands.

“Not a single one of them is anyone particularly important, but between the three of them? They have managed to figure out one of the rules of this realm that few Sinners do before it’s too late,” he says with equal parts disdain and grudging respect, his smile taking on a twisted appearance that makes his expression look more like a grimace as he continues,

“Which is to say, they understand the importance of a Deal in Hell. The contracts, like the one the spider signed? They’re little more than a Deal with fine print attached. Clauses and arbitrations that all favor the makers of the contract …and very rarely leave any ‘work arounds’ for the signee.” Alastor’s eyes are searching mine as he finishes speaking, like he’s trying to ensure I understand every word.

That same knot of anxiety forms in my stomach again at the quiet confidence with which Alastor speaks. Not for myself, but for Angel… He made that deal before fully understanding what it meant. No kind angel of his own to explain the consequences…only ‘the moth’. My stomach churns at the thought and I wrinkle my nose.

“That’s…so unfair,” I murmur and Alastor lets out a bitter chuckle.

“While I’ll admit those three have certainly taken a lot of the sport out of it… Every Deal in Hell is ‘fair’, only breaking the agreed upon conditions can break them. Simple as that.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders before narrowing his eyes and lifting a hand to my chin.

“So, please, Mon Coeur… stay far away from the moth and the rest of that noxious trio. It’s nothing you’d want to entangle yourself in.” His gaze is nearly as insistent as his words, almost pleading. It’s so rare for Alastor to even utter the word ‘please’...it gives me pause. 

Yet, I can’t help but push a little harder.

“But…if we could somehow catch Valentino in violation of their deal that might break it? Perhaps, if I were to follow Angel in one day? I could move through the tower unseen-” I begin to theorize before Alastor cuts me off.

“Absolutely not. Didn’t you hear any of what I’ve just said?! Dearest, that tower…I don’t want you anywhere near it. Visible or otherwise!” He exclaims, worry and …anger coloring his features. The demands in his words sparks a mild flare of annoyance. I lift my chin from his hand, holding it high as I reply.

“I heard you quite clearly, Alastor. In fact, I have been listening rather precisely to everything you’ve said because I don’t want Angel anywhere near that tower either! But, in order to make that a reality, I have to at least-!” Before I can finish explaining my line of thought, Alastor’s hands are on my cheeks again as he forces my gaze to his worry-filled one.

“Dearest, you can not go to V-Tower. It is not up for discussion. The spider’s Deal is not your problem to fix!” The tone of his words almost makes them sound like a plea, but it’s impossible to deny the command they imply. I grit my teeth and stand from the piano bench, stepping out of the warm embrace of his hands.

“Alastor Heartfelt, I know I did not just hear you tell me what I can and cannot do.” I say cooly, my inky skin rippling beneath my bandages. The bubbling anger and indignation I feel at his words causing the liquid of my skin to literally simmer.

Alastor pauses, lowering his hands as his eyes narrow at me. He’s silent aside from the crackling static for a moment- reassessing and recalculating. I take the silence as an opportunity.

“I could easily move through that tower without a soul knowing I’d entered,” I say lifting a hand and allowing the ink to go cold and invisible as my hand disappears from view. Alastor grits his teeth at the demonstration, but I point to the lengthening shadows behind him as I continue,

“You could too! Accompany me if you’re so worried! You’re the ‘Radio Demon’ aren’t you? You think I don’t know your reputation? Didn’t you beat that picture box into oblivion years ago? Why are you so concerned about my stepping on their territory now?! You’ve said it yourself, they’re nothing special!” I protest, gesturing widely to the shape of him.

The shape of my husband is, after all, a terrifying sight for most of Hell. 

Even now, the way the static surges around him as shadow roils…I can sense and see the magnitude of his power. Even without that ominous staff at his side… With all that power, I can’t understand the fear behind his eyes… until his next words leave his lips.

“Because I cannot lose you again! Especially not to…” Alastor exclaims, his voice rising and cracking before trailing off… 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, tousling his fluffy ears as he does so. He drops his gaze to the floor before adding,

“Those three, on their own are nothing special…but, I am …concerned that if they were to discover our connection? You might become the target of some…animosity. Precisely because I had to put the TV in his place all those years ago…” Alastor lifts his eyes to mine as he explains, his ears flopping downwards as his whole frame slumps to sit on the edge of the piano bench once more.

There’s something he leaves unsaid as he trails off. I can’t quite place the emotion attached as he mentions Vox. It’s something like…shame? Annoyance? Guilt? A mixture of all those somehow…

My mind flashes back to my first night here. Back when Pentious had done a rather poor job at spying for Vox and Alastor took the opportunity to rub it in the media overlord’s flat face. When I’d asked him why…he’d said to discourage Vox from making any further attempts on the hotel, now that I was here. 

“You think if I were to get caught, Vox might use the opportunity to get back at you… by using me…?” I ask carefully, testing the theory aloud. Alastor swallows audibly and nods.

I nod in understanding…and square my shoulders as I meet his gaze.

“Then I won’t get caught.” I say, injecting as much confidence into the words as I can reasonably convey. 

Alastor looks like he might be sick. 

“Dearest, I know that you have your tricks, but V-Tower-” he begins and this time I cut him off by interjecting.

“I’ve also been participating in self-defense training with Vaggie, as you asked me to! I’ve pinned her several times this month alone!” I add, spreading my arms wide so he might see the burgeoning muscle begin to form along them. Alastor scoffs.

“That’s-! She isn’t being as hard on you as she could be. She is trying to build your esteem- which I appreciate- but those sparring matches are hardly proof you could hold your own against three Overlords!” He protests and I narrow my gaze at the words.

“Vaggie’s taking it easy on me? That’s your reasoning?” I ask, my tone now cold and calculating as his own was moments ago. My husband notes the change in tone with a raise of his brows before he counters,

“I didn’t say easy, Dearest, merely that there are steps between your sparring matches and taking on a Sinner who owns as many souls as any one of that trio…” he says, skillfully avoiding the question. 

I step closer, my face inches from his. With him seated, I actually have a few inches on him standing above him like this. I lean down, trying to take advantage of the effect.

“And what would be a suitable step between training with Vaggie and infiltrating V-Tower in your eyes?” I ask pointedly, Alastor’s static hisses at the question, but before he can answer- I offer a solution.

“How about a sparring match with the Radio Demon himself?” I propose, relishing the way Alastor’s eyes widen in surprise at the idea. I flash him a challenging grin as I continue, poking at that pride of his.

“I pin you- as I’ve been pinning Vaggie all week- and you stop this bull-headed, controlling, over-protective nonsense.” I state with a vague gesture to his now crossed arms.

“You pin me? And I’ll drop it.” I offer, the words feeling strikingly close to a deal.

Alastor blinks up at me before his grin widens a fraction. He stands and I try to fight the small thrill that runs through my frame as he towers over me at his full height. 

He leans in and the movement feels like both an intimidation and a seduction. I try to ignore the latter, but feel my cheeks warm as his breath ghosts my face.

“I pin you one time in a sparring match and this talk of you entering that cursed tower is finished? You’ll let the spider’s contract lie? Just like that?” He clarifies, his smile taking on an eagerness that has my stomach flip flopping. I swallow, but do my best to keep my chin held high.

“Best two out of three.” I clarify, partially just to be obstinate, and partially because staring up at him like this…with him looking as downright pleased as he does at the notion…shakes my confidence slightly.

Alastor smirks at the addendum, but nods thoughtfully, lifting a hand to his chin like he’s considering the terms. His eyes are wild with a competitive sort of gleam as he looks me up and down. 

The gesture shouldn’t send a jolt of pleasure through me, but it does- his gaze is like a tangible thing as he surveys me. The way his eyes linger in all the right places…I do my best to ignore the small spark of desire it ignites. Focusing instead, on Alastor’s words as he leans in even closer to ask,

“When and where, Ma Cher?” He asks, his static laced words skittering along my skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I swallow hard again. 

“Tonight, on the roof…” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and confident, but the words end in a murmur. My mouth going dry at the way he’s looking at me. 

Alastor nods at the words, lifting a hand to caress my cheek. He smiles- wide and teasing- likely noticing the small shiver of pleasure I can’t ever seem to hide at his touch. He smirks.

“I shall look forward to putting you on your back all day then, Mon Coeur…Excuse me, while I prepare for the occasion.” He says before leaning in and placing a searing kiss to my mouth. 

I could swear I was just furious with him…Yet the scorch of his lips on mine is gone all too soon as he disappears into the shadows at our feet.

Leaving me alone in the music room as I lift a hand to my lips and wonder what exactly I’ve signed myself up for…

To Be Continued:

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Using one-shot liberally here cause I might make it a two-shot if y’all want- we’ll see…and just a quick MDNI up top cause this one has some NSFW content towards the end.

Ao3 link here or you can scroll

@ag0sswii23 I feel like I remember you saying to tag ya if I did another one of these?

CW/TW: post-nightmare comfort, panic attack, non-sex repulsed Alastor/OOC Alastor, Demi-Alastor, smut/sexual content

Comforting Her:

Even in life, I used to sleep like the dead.

I needed it, after all. What with all my constant performing, both in and out of the recording booth. Not to mention all my…extracurriculars would often leave me somewhat sore. 

Sleep was a necessity. 

Even in death, my body has often seemed unwilling to compromise on that fact. I’ve slept through Overlord assasination attempts, the Princess’s insistent knocking at my door…Hell, I’ve woken up with a spectral collar tugging at my neck after having slept through a summons from Rosie.

Yet, at the slightest inhalation from her? My eyes are open in an instant. 

It’s still a shock to wake up alongside her at all, my darling wife… Though, this shock is admittedly less pleasant. 

She’s clawing at her neck, her gaze unfocused and wide with panic. Sweat coats her skin and dampens the sheets we’ve been laying on. 

My mind slows at the sight of her in distress. Still groggy with sleep and for a moment- uncertain of the source of her discomfort.

If I could identify the threat, it’d be handled by now.

I blink blearily, scanning her beautiful face. She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Dearest…?” I try, but it’s like she can’t hear me. 

Instead, her focus is on her shaking hands. She holds them out in front of her, balling her hands into fists and then splaying her fingers wide. She repeats the motion, muttering under her breath.

“Not real…” she murmurs, and I could swear my heart stops at the shaky wobble of her voice as she tries to reassure herself. Comfort herself. Doesn’t she know that’s what I’m here for?

I reach a hand to her cheek, to wipe away the golden sparkling tears there,

“Darling? Are you-” I stop short as she flinches away from my touch, closing her eye tight as she recoils. 

My entire body goes still. 

It shouldn’t hurt so much. To see her flinch away in fear…how many Sinners have I watched try to do the exact same thing? To pull away from these clawed hands of mine? 

And it’s not as if she’s really afraid of me at this moment. Even my foggy, sleep-deprived mind can now deduce she’s had a nightmare. It’s not me she’s afraid of…

Unless I’m the thing that haunts her dreams.

No.

It’s not me.

I repeat the thought like a mantra.

‘It’s not me, she’s afraid of.’

It’s a useless repetition. 

Because it only begs the question, what is she afraid of? 

What haunts her nightmares so, that she can’t even recognize me upon waking? What has happened to her in the years, the decades, we’ve been separated? Why does she flinch away from being touched? What have I failed to protect her from?

I wish I’d done a better job at hiding the pain those questions cause me…because as she opens her eye again, I can tell she sees it. Then there’s a guilt that colors her features, as if she’s done something wrong by being frightened. Her words tumble out in a panic,

“I-I’m sorry, I-I’m…I…I just…” she stammers, trying to gather her thoughts. The apology on her lips. For a moment, I can’t understand why she offers it. 

Not until I see the way her gaze darts to my outstretched hand- still frozen inches away from making contact. I make no move to close the distance, but I do make a concerted effort to keep my tone even and hopefully calming as I speak,

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mon Coeur. You are safe. You are here with me.” I whisper, forcing the static back from my words so she might hear a familiar voice, undistorted. Her gaze refocuses.

“Alastor…” she breathes my name like a sigh of relief as she looks at me. 

Something uncoils within my gut at the sound, the muscles in my face and neck relax and the smile I offer her is a genuine one. I nod in affirmation, coaxing her back into the waking world as gently as I can muster.

“Yes, Dearest…may I? Or would you prefer some… space?” I ask, gesturing with my chin to my still frozen arms. As much as I long to hold her in this moment, I won’t without her say so. Not when I don’t fully understand what alternative hellscape she’s just woken from. 

She blinks up at the question. Confusion and then understanding flashes across her face and my heart nearly shatters at the look of guilt that again seems to fill her. 

She nods and scoots closer to me on the bed. It’s all the encouragement I need to fold her into my arms.

If I thought anyone was listening, I might say a small prayer of thanks as she leans into the embrace, pressing her face against my chest. 

She feels so…warm as she leans against me.

She lets out a small, shuddering sigh at the contact. Her breathing still slightly ragged from the jagged inhales and exhales of panic she’d had upon waking. Most of that is gone now as she curls up against me, but there is a lingering sort of stutter to her breaths.

“Breathe deeply, Ma Cher…I am here…” I say softly, shifting a hand to her lower back I rub rhythmic, calming, circles there. 

Her skin is damp and slightly chilled still with the cold sweat of fear. I will the palms of my hands to feed some of my own warmth into her, anything to ease her discomfort.

Thankfully, it seems to work. Her breathing stabilizes after a few minutes and I lift my head to peer down at the woman wrapped in my arms. 

It’s strange. How unabashedly good it feels to comfort her, when I’d give anything to make it so that she didn’t require my comforts.

 Again my mind is flooded with the persistent question of what she could have possibly done for the cosmic forces of the universe to have decided she belongs here with Sinners like me…

I push the thought away, not wanting to stress her when her breathing has only just returned to normal. Perhaps now that it has, she can tell me who and what haunts her dreams. 

So that I might eliminate it.

“Would you like to talk about it?” I offer the words cautiously, not wanting to seem too desperate for the answers I desire. The words cause her face to flush as she shrugs, her gaze dipping to avoid mine.

“I…it was only a nightmare, dearest, I’m sorry to have worried you…” She murmurs, dismissively. 

I can’t stand the sound of her apologizing for such a frivolous thing. Not when I should be apologizing for not having spared her the trauma she’s clearly endured. 

I lift a hand to her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine so I can ensure she hears and understands my next words as I reiterate,

“As I have said, you have nothing to apologize for.” I repeat as I watch the way her face flushes. From my touch or my words I can’t tell. The sight of it curves my lips involuntarily, so many smiles that feel real with her around now…

“And…if you would like to talk about it, I am here. My listening skills have much improved, you’ll find…” I offer, my tone light and teasing as I gesture to the wretched deer-like ears atop my head. 

It’s worth having endured nearly a century with the fluffy abominations attached to my head just to see the small, tentative smile that curves her lips at the terrible joke. She doesn’t offer any words of her own, though. 

I bite my tongue to keep from prying. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. To make her relive whatever nightmare she just emerged from would be cruel. Especially when she still looks so tired, like the terrors her own mind spun have prevented her from receiving any of the actual benefits of rest…

“Of course, you don’t have to talk about it…especially not if you’d like to try and rest some more? It’s still early…no one but Niffty will be up for hours…” I offer, trailing off at the way her body stiffens in my arms at the word ‘rest’. She shakes her head before I’ve even finished speaking.

“I… I think I might be done with my attempts at sleep for today…but you should go back to bed, dearest! Truly, I’m alright.” She stammers a bit, her words coming out in a rush, as she eyes the pillow like it might reinfest her mind with nightmares if she were to lay back down. 

I reach a hand, gently and carefully pushing some loose curls back and away from her face. The touch seems to anchor her in the same way it does me. Refocusing all our combined attention on each other. 

“Do you honestly believe I would, or even could, lay down and sleep knowing you are in distress?” I ask, genuinely curious.

 Surely she must know I can’t, yet she’s shifting in the bed like she truly aims to leave me here alone in bed while she…what? Paces the floor and wrestles her inner demons alone?

“Alastor, I’m not… distressed. I’m fine, and I don’t want to keep you awake any-” She begins and I feel more than hear the radio static crackle along my limbs as she pulls herself out of them.

The words are a lie. 

A lie meant to comfort me, but a lie nonetheless. 

It’s difficult to keep from reaching for her again, to keep from pulling her back into my arms and telling her the last thing I care about in this moment is my being awake. I can’t even keep myself from interrupting her.

“Darling, might I ask you a favor?” I force the words out in a polite question rather than in a demand. She halts at the edge of the bed, her gaze meeting mine as if she sees right through the polite question, likely hearing the hiss of static behind it.

“Of course, Alastor…” she murmurs, soft and careful. 

For Heaven’s sake, now she’s trembling again. This time most assuredly because of me. I force myself to inhale deeply, willing my words to sound calm and less agitated.

“I understand, you may not want to worry me…but please, never lie to me about your own well-being again.” I say as plainly as I can. She bites her lip, as if punishing herself for the untruthful words. That isn’t what I want either. 

I can’t help, but reach for her. 

I need to make contact, to assure her that I only aim to help her. My hand slides along her exposed shoulder and I nearly sigh with relief that she doesn’t pull away from the touch.

“My Dove, you are- quite literally -shaking. I know you are not ‘fine’. I do not need you to be ‘fine’. I don’t even need to know what it is that haunts your nightmares…” I assure her, lifting my other hand to brush a thumb along her cheek as I continue,

“But I do need to know, that you know you can tell me anything… even if you fear what you have to say may upset me…” I say as softly as I can, again shoving the static back and away so that she might hear only me.

There’s a look in her eye…a hesitation. Like she believes my words, but there’s still something she can’t bring herself to say. 

I shudder to think of what it might be, that hidden thing she insists on bearing all on her own. How do I make her understand she doesn’t have to? That nothing that’s happened to her down here is her fault? 

I can’t look her in the eye. Not when I should have prevented all the pain and trepidation that lurks there in the first place. 

So I lower my gaze, but I still can’t bring myself to relinquish the feel of her skin against mine. 

Pressing my forehead to hers, dipping my chin to avoid her gaze just as she did before.

I can almost understand why she did, without the eye contact- my mouth feels more free to speak the words I need to say, the words she needs to hear. 

I close my eyes and allow my heart to speak directly to hers.

“I want every part of you. Not just the parts you’ve deemed presentable. Not even just the pieces of you that were present in life…” I say, my words devoid of their usual static once again, with hardly any effort on my part at all this time as I continue, eyes closed.

“Everything you’ve endured down here, everything you’ve done to survive, everything you’ve experienced…that’s all a part of you now. A part I am most eager to know…so that I might fall in love with new pieces of you all over again…” I say, my eyes opening again as I lift my gaze to hers.

My undead heart stutters.

She’s smiling.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, her smile. It’s hard to believe anything I might have said could have inspired such a reaction, yet there it is. I grin back.

Her own grin widens at the sight. Our shared joy seemingly compounds in on itself as we grin at each other here in the quiet dark of the room. It takes me a moment to realize she hasn’t spoken. I chuckle at the realization.

“Left you speechless, have I?” I prod teasingly and she laughs, the sound light and joyous- like tinkling bells and gentle chimes. 

“Hardly…I simply have too many words…” She murmurs through her laugh.

Her smile lingers as she looks up at me quietly. Perhaps that’s why I crave the sound of her laughter, the sound of her voice, because she’s so quiet.

It’s certainly one of the reasons I first pursued her, back when we were alive. So subtly quiet in a world full of noise…so much so that when she did speak? My world seemed to shift on its axis at the sound.

 Even now, I’d flip Hell upside down just to hear a handful of the ‘many words’ she hasn’t voiced.

“Spare a few for your husband, then? I’m ever curious to know what’s taking place in that beautiful head of yours…” I admit and she chuckles a bit before sighing softly, a look of quiet contemplation washes over her features before she speaks.

“I can tell you’re still worried…which you shouldn’t be. You could talk a dying man into living another decade, Alastor. You’ve certainly managed to talk me down from a nightmare...” She says the last words lightly, teasingly. Like she hadn’t just been gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat, a few minutes prior.

She used to do this in life too- diminish her own suffering, make light of it. A coping mechanism or out of concern for others worrying over her I could never tell. I press my lips together before countering,

“I am simply concerned, Dearest…” I correct her. 

‘Worry’ would imply I’m unable to handle the situation. Worry would imply a sense of fear and powerlessness…

No, what I have is a deep concern, a desire to help her. She has to know that I’m capable of that, that I can help.

“May I ask you something?” I float the question casually, trailing my fingertips along her skin as I release my hold on her face. Mindfully ensuring my claw-tipped fingers don’t scrape her as my touch wanders aimlessly down her neck.

“Anything you like.” She says quickly, immediately. My eyes dart to hers, a smirk tugging at my lips at that willingness…that obedience in her tone.

Heat flares in my chest and just below my waist, but I push the flare of passion down. Focusing, with some effort, on my desire to help her instead.

“The way you reached here-” I say with a bit of added pressure to the space on her neck where my fingers are trailing,

“-and the way you splayed your hands before balling them into fists…what was that…?” I ask, keeping my tone soft, an air of mild curiosity, nothing more. Perhaps if I can act as unconcerned about her night terror as she does, she might open up. 

She smirks, like she sees right through me. 

Shifting forward, she leans in, for a moment her closeness sparks that same heat again. My body tensed in anticipation of her touch. 

Though, when she places her fingertips to the crease between my brows…it’s admittedly not the part of my body that was most eagerly awaiting her touch.

I raise my brows at her, feeling the way her fingers follow the motion. Her lips curve again as she smirks and shrugs her shoulders before explaining,

“Sometimes when I come out of a nightmare like that, it all feels so …emotional, so physical, and real when I wake…It helps to ground myself.” She says without looking me in the eye. Her fingers drifting from my brow as she adds,

“Physical touch is almost like proof to my mind in those moments…that it was only a dream…” she continues, her fingers emphasizing every word as she traces a path down the bridge of my nose with her fingertips. 

The small, feather-light touch shouldn’t send my heart into a frenzy. The smooth pad of her thumb brushing over my lower lip shouldn’t make my breathing stutter in my throat.

Nevertheless, the blasted organ hammers and thuds against my chest so hard I wonder if she can feel it as her hands travel lower.

From the way she smirks as her fingers glide over the expanse of my half exposed chest? I would wager she can. 

“Perhaps that’s why I haven’t been able to keep my hands off you…still not convinced you’re not a dream…” She adds with a grin. 

My face feels hot. God, am I…blushing? I shove down the dismaying thought and reach for some semblance of control over myself, over the situation. 

Wasn’t I just comforting her? How can my body have already forgotten that fact? Because now all this form of mine seems to understand is that there’s comfort to be had in her body…

“Dearest…” I manage to force out the static-soaked word. Though, I’m not sure if it’s more of a warning for her or for me…

Perhaps, it’s a plea.

“Yes?” She asks lightly, batting her lashes. The picture of innocent curiosity…aside from the fact that her other hand has now slid beneath the fabric of my shirt. 

The sensation of her hands lightly caressing my shoulders, the sheer warmth of her touch… I have to close my eyes in order to restrain myself. Even then, a low desperate sounding rumble echoes in my chest. 

This woman, how can she still have such a hold on me- body and soul? She hasn’t even reached my abdomen with her trailing, teasing little touches. Yet, the entirety of my 7 foot frame is filled with a strangely delightful… tension. 

Every inch of me is poised to receive every inch of her. 

Any touch she offers, I’ll take. Not only that, but now that she’s offered some? I want to take more. Need to take all of her…

My eyes open and I arch a playful brow at her positioning. She’d been about to try and crawl out of bed to leave me to rest. But having doubled back to administer those teasing little touches of hers? She’s half draped over me, the warmth of her seeping into my bones in the spaces where our bodies overlap.

She is not leaving this bed.

“Exactly, how much ‘proof’ do you think you might require, Ma Cher?” I ask casually, as my hands reach for her hips- tugging.

She exhales a breathy, contented sigh as she allows me to pull her back into bed. I grin and take the opportunity to pull her body on top of mine. 

I lie back to admire the view.

She’s spread her legs, so that she sits astride my waist. Seated upright like this, the pressure of her weight is situated right where that coiled tension seems to mount in my own body. 

It’s a heady intoxicating feeling, the warmth of her pressed against me. I imagine it must be similarly pleasurable for her as she grins down at me, wiggling her hips against mine even as she shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe just a bit more…?” She muses, her tone light and teasing. Her body seems intent on teasing me too with those delicious little movements of her hips rolling against mine. 

“Well, I suppose I’m happy to oblige you…” I reply, my mind racing with all the ways I might do so…

“You’re going to want to remove these, if it’s physical touch you require…” I offer the words like a suggestion as I lightly tug at the bandages that are wound around her delicate frame. Obscuring all the parts of her I’m the most eager to lavish with teasing touches of my own.

The words feel like a wish granted as she raises her brows and, without lifting a finger, the strips of cloth that adorn her- are suddenly stripped away. A light flapping and fluttering sound as the animated cloth slips away to reveal her figure beneath.

My eyes sink to her newly exposed naked form, drinking in the sight of her. 

God, she is perfection.

My hands seem to reach for her of their own accord. Trailing down her sides, savoring the smooth and supple skin there. Sinking lower still, I can’t help but tighten my grip as my hands reach her full hips.

“You were entirely too prepared to follow that direction…” I muse, trying to maintain the casual tone from earlier and failing. My voice sounds hungry, even to my own ears. 

“And here I always thought you rather enjoyed it when I followed your instructions quickly…” she teases, as she lowers her chest to mine, her hands slowly sliding up over my shoulders once more.

The heat of her gliding against me is almost too much to bear. Those lips hovering inches above mine? I don’t think I can wait for her to offer those any more plainly. I need to taste her.

“I rather enjoy everything you do, my Dear…” I manage to growl out before tilting my neck and taking that pouting lower lip of hers between my teeth. 

Finally, a small whimpered exhale escapes her and I grin against her at the sound. Releasing her lip briefly to add,

“Satisfied I’m tangible yet, Ma Cher?” I ask. It’s a rhetorical question, of course, so I don’t wait for her answer.

Instead, I reach my hands for her hair, pulling it taught, as I use it to tug her in close until her lips crash into mine. 

Her lips on mine…the sensation feels like a blessing and a sin all at once. To taste her, to defile that perfect mouth…it’s a temptation I can’t bring myself to resist as I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue.

And my darling wife parts her lips to welcome the onslaught. Her acceptance only spurs my body to take more of hers. Tightening my grip on her hair to keep her mouth firmly anchored to mine while my other hand sinks to explore her curves.

This Sinner’s form may have changed the hue of her skin, but the silky smooth texture and gentle curve of her hips remains the same. Still such a perfect match for my hands. So much so that they sink below her waist without much consideration, to pull her in closer and squeeze the ample softness-

I halt the flexing of my fingers at the small gasp she exhales against my mouth. Suddenly viscerally aware of the claws that adorn each of my fingertips- now sunk into her soft flesh.

I loosen my hold on her hair to assess her face, scanning for any sign of pain outside that small gasp. 

In life I’d been rough with her, with her enthusiastic consent no less…but the cursed shape of my sins have forced my body into something…sharper now. And if I were to actually hurt her…

I can’t bring myself to finish the thought. Not when her breathy plea begs me to continue.

“Don’t stop…I was just starting to believe you’re really here…” She murmurs with a curve to her lips. She’s still teasing me.

Yet even with her insistence, I hesitate. As much as I want to take her as recklessly as I once did, I could hurt her if I’m not careful. Her frame is still so much smaller and softer than mine. I have to be able to exercise some modicum of restraint.

Though, as if she can read the hesitation on my face, my wife takes matters into her own hands… by forcing mine. She shifts her weight, pushing back into the clawed tips of my hands- driving the offending sharpened tips further into her own skin. 

Hard enough to pierce her, to mark her…a low growl rumbles at the back of my throat at the thought.

“Careful, Darling…” I say gruffly, losing even more of whatever little control I had over myself when she’s this close. 

I shouldn’t, but some desperate, possessive, ravenous piece of me wants to mark her. To dig my claws in deeper so that the shape of my hands stays embedded in her skin long after I’ve released her. 

Then there’s the much quieter part of me that knows I shouldn’t. The part that knows that I’m lucky to be touching her at all, that I shouldn’t push my luck…

My hands are locked in place as I wage war against myself. That is, until she leans in again to reply,

“I don’t want ‘careful’, I want you…” She murmurs the words like a plea. Her gaze meets mine and I have no choice but to believe her words.

Because she’s looking at me like she is truly seeing me. 

I used to think that she looked at me like that in life too… but I could explain it away. Telling myself she only saw the parts I let her see. That if she could see the monster I was beneath? This angel before me would turn and run at the sight of my inner demons.

But now? I have nowhere to hide from her pleading gaze.

Even if she hadn’t learned of my sins after my death, she can see them evidenced now. See the literal demon that I am. Feel the sharpness of the tangible form my sins have taken embedded in her…and still she looks at me like…like she truly means it when she says she wants me. 

My sweet, loving, impossible wife. 

I lift my neck again to graze my lips against hers, to prove again to myself that she is real. That she’s here with me.

“And I you.” I reply in a gravelly whisper. She smiles like the three words are all she ever needed to hear from me and leans in to reclaim my mouth with hers.

The utter softness of her…. I can’t help but groan against her lips. Can’t stop my fingers from flexing as I tighten my grip on her backside again as her hips rock against mine.

I can feel the wet heat of her now, even through the fabric of my pants. A distant corner of my mind knows the fabric is in the way, but I find myself unwilling to move to rectify the matter.

Not when the slow, tantric grind of her hips against mine feels so perfect. The only thing that could heighten the sensation is if there was more of it.

Again, my body grows covetous and impatient for more of hers. She is perfect, slow, and sensual in her movements…but the mounting pleasure only makes me crave more of her. 

My fingers dig into her hips, claws sinking even deeper into the soft flesh there. All so that I might dictate the pace, coax her hips into a slightly faster rhythm so that I might experience more of her per second.

I can feel her lips curve against mine as I do so. She knows exactly what she’s done to me, exactly how much I want her, need her… I pull back, just so I can see that teasing smirk of hers for myself.

“Here I thought I was comforting you… only to find myself in desperate need of a particular comfort only you can provide, my Dear…” I say, grinning up at this delightfully clever creature who’s somehow turned an embrace I offered in an earnest attempt to comfort her into the sinful dance it’s become.

She whimpers at the words and I cherish the sound. Savoring the meaning behind it- that I’m not the only one between the two of us finding… comfort in this moment.

I want to hear it again, that small stuttered sound. I want to be the reason behind every utterance of pleasure. I want to make her scream my name with those perfect lips. Swallow her every exhalation…

But then she’s pulling away, sitting up and resituating herself on my lap.

“You’ve comforted me plenty, dearest, let me do the same for you…?” She murmurs, as she leans back, abandoning our kiss in favor of reaching for the fastenings of my pants.

A sudden surge of indecision floods my mind. Do the same for me? But I haven’t even truly tasted her yet, not really. And if she starts…I know I won’t stop.

I catch her wrist, causing her delicate fingers to still as she lifts her chin, a questioning look leveled my way. Even that utterly confused expression is entrancing on her features.

Do I really want to stop her? No, of course not, I just…my gaze sinks from her face to her breasts, then lower still…there isn’t a single part of her I don’t want to touch, to taste, to feel pressed up against me and around me…

I suppose it can’t be helped.

I release her wrist in favor of using my fingers to carefully part her delicate slippery folds and slide a single finger inside her.

Any qualms I had about not having given her body enough attention fades quickly as I feel the evidence of her arousal coat my finger and she gasps. 

Good. 

She needs this as badly as I do. I withdraw my finger just as quickly as I entered and she shudders at the sensation. I grin up at her.

Looking her in the eye as I lift my fingers to my mouth to lick the taste of her off them. Her face flushes and I grin again.

“Never without tasting you first, Darling, you know that. Though, I’ll admit to being in a bit of a hurry, just this once…” I acquiesce as I reach for the fastening of my pants and undo it quickly, freeing that part of me that craves her the most.

I’ve never had much use for this particular appendage without her…but seeing the way her gaze widens and her mouth parts at the sight of it…a small spark of pride flares in my chest. Chased quickly by an overwhelming need to bury myself deep inside her.

Wordlessly, I pull at her hips. My wife’s flushed face looks to mine at the movement as she angles her hips, understanding my intentions immediately. I wrap my fingers around the throbbing needy length of myself until the tip of my shaft sits perfectly angled at her entrance.

Pulling on her hips again, she slides down the length of me. Both of us let out a sharp inhalation and simultaneous shudder of pleasure as I bury myself inside her. 

It’s hard to describe the feeling of her wrapped around me like this. It’s such a stark contrast to any other sensation, that everything outside of this feeling- the feeling of being inside her- pales in comparison. 

That is, until she begins rolling her hips against mine. My breath catches at the movement, at the velvety warm softness that strokes the length of me…it’s an effort not to thrust back up into her, faster and harder. 

Yet, at the same time, I want this part to last.

This part where I can see the pleasure on her features clearly. See the way her nipples peak as her breasts shift with each subtle movement of her hips. Watch the way her lips part before she bites down as my hands squeeze her once more. 

She is a vision…

“My Dear…it has been entirely too long since I last had this view…” I admit, my gaze raking up and down her frame. Her face flushes again at the words and I grin as I reach a hand to the space between her legs- just above where our bodies are joined.

I press my thumb to the soft, swollen, slippery bud there- adding just a bit of pleasurable pressure. She whimpers and the sound sparks a flame of passion in my gut.

I maintain that pressure against that sensitive bundle of nerves and begin to circle it slowly with the pad of my thumb- holding her hips in place with my other hand as she bucks beneath my touch. 

She moans and her eye flutters closed as her lips part with the sound. What I wouldn’t give to hear that sound over and over and over again. The sounds of her pleasure. 

Not only that, but the feel of her body shaking, trembling around mine. I can feel every ounce of her pleasure through the very twitching of her muscles, and it sends my own pleasure lurchingly close to being outside my control.

But she’s right there too…ever so close to that delicate edge…she could step over to fall into her own pleasure. I need to make sure I feel that. Perhaps she needs some encouragement?

“Go on then, Darling. Out with it…you know you want to…” I say, injecting as much teasing into my tone as I can muster. If I’m about to lose control, she’s going to have to as well. I can still demand that much…can’t I? 

“Alastor…!” She half-cries, half-moans my name. 

It’s an exquisite sound…one I can’t fully enjoy as suddenly the Princess’s annoyingly cheery voice is…also calling my name? Oh no…

“Alastor!!” Charlie Morningstar’s voice sounds at the door even as she’s simultaneously knocking…

Just as I did the other day when I forced my way through her office door using the spider…oh no.

“She wouldn’t dare…” I rasp aloud, but then the Princess is parrotting my own stupid words as she barges through my door, loudly declaring,

“I’m respecting your privacy by knocking! But asserting my authority as your business partner by coming in anyway!”

The End…?

Maybe? Idk I might make a part two for this one!

but if you’re desperate for the conclusion now? This is basically just a little writing exercise I do sometimes! This was made from the end of chapter 11, just wrote it from Alastor’s POV instead of the fem reader for a change! So chapter 12 has the conclusion to this from the fem reader’s POV!

If you liked this, I did another one of these little writing exercises so I’ll leave that link right HERE too!

And I’m sorry cause I know this is kinda a cliff hanger ending- but I had to cause this clip plays in my head on a loop:

Sorry this isn’t our regularly scheduled chapter of the main fic or a one shot from Alastor’s perspective like I had been posting.

Those are gonna resume shortly, but my fiancé’s mom passed away this week and it’s been difficult to get in the headspace of that love story lately. But don’t worry! I’m coming back to them and have slowly, but surely started writing those again!

In the meantime (for any of yall still with me) please enjoy this little flashback that lowkey feels like a page from my diary.

(It’s also on AO3 right here too)

Edit: so I am gonna treat this as chapter 18/intermission chapter of the main fic, just cause I also posted this on AO3 and don’t want anyone to get confused! Cause Chapter 19 is out now too!

Cw/TW: death of a parent, casual police neglect/racism, *mild* mention of bodily injury, grief

Intermission: ‘Manman would approve’

‘An accident’.

I watch as the words cause Alastor’s smile to thin. I can’t say I blame him. I don’t find the words adequate either.

An accident.

As if spilled blood is no different from spilled milk. Surely there must be a better way to describe what’s happened to her.

Manman.

The woman who raised this man I love. She’s gone and all these coppers have to say is “an unfortunate accident”?!

It makes my blood boil.

Makes me want to open my mouth to tell these so-called authorities what I truly think of their ‘peacekeeping’ skills. To allow such ‘an accident’ to occur on their watch.

But Alastor’s lips are moving first. In a smile, no less.

“I…understand. Thank you, constable, for being the bearer of such difficult news.” Alastor says graciously, placatingly.

My heart breaks a bit watching him lessen himself this way, especially when I can already see the grief shining behind his eyes. The constable, however, has the audacity to smile back, simpering and smug.

“Of course, Mr. Heartfelt. I’ll be on my way now, if there’s nothing else.” He says, already turning to step off our porch. To leave us here with those life-altering, inadequate words. I narrow my eyes.

“There is, actually. Something we need from you, I mean.” I interject, and the officer pauses his steps. He half turns back, arching a brow at Alastor, as if he expects him to step forward and silence me.

My husband, of course, makes no such moves. Instead, he arches a brow at the officer in turn before turning his full attention to me. A half-amused smirk on his lips, and an expression that’s a mix of curiosity, grief, and surprise colors his features.

I reach a hand towards his arm, wrapping my own around it in a reassuring touch before turning back to the officer.

“If you could tell us, when her body will be returned to us. There are some traditions we’d like to adhere to, and others I’m sure who’d like to pay their respects.” I say with my chin held high and pointed emphasis on the last word.

The officer looks at me with a pitying expression. I want to slap it off his face. I feel Alastor’s arm shift in mine as he rests a hand on the place where our arms meet.

It’s a gesture I’m well familiar with. It’s my husband’s way of keeping me from flying off the handle while, outwardly, only projecting comfort. His way of asking me not to escalate things when it’s already hard enough…

I place my hand over his as well, trying to offer him comfort in turn.

The officer’s eyes dart to our joined hands and there’s a brief sneer he can’t seem to hide before he composes his features back into that condescending expression of pity. He addresses me,

“Little lady, there’s a lot to be done yet with her body. I wouldn’t expect y’all to be aware of all the advancements in the medical sciences, what with y’all bein’…entertainters. But, right now they’re performin’ why we call an autopsy- to determine cause of death.” He says in an over confident tone. I press my lips together to avoid letting the first few choice words that come to mind from slipping from my lips.

Alastor gives no such pause.

Instead, he chuckles, cocking his head to the side as he mirrors the patronizing nature of the officer’s tone.

“I would wager it shouldn’t take your crack team of…experts in the medical sciences, to deduce the cause of death. A laceration across the head seems relatively straightforward, doesn’t it constable?” Alastor asks with the perfect blend of curiosity and mild condescension.

The copper sputters for a moment and before he can get a word in, I add for good measure,

“I would imagine, with all those advancements in the medical sciences you mentioned, that group of sawbones ought to be about done with my mother-in-law’s body by nightfall. Such a simple case after all…” I say in a conversational and leading tone. And before ‘Officer Know-Nothing’ can contradict me, Alastor jumps in again.

“Which is perfect, leaves us just enough time to prep her for the Veille tomorrow. Really, constable, we can’t thank you enough for all your assistance. I’ll send a car for Manman’s remains this evening.” Alastor says to the still floundering officer who looks as though he doesn’t even know how he lost his footing in this conversation.

Alastor is already closing the door on the buffoon. A polite smile etched on his face as he watches the copper leave through the small window to the left of the door.

We both let out a soft exhale as we watch him shuffle down the front steps, back to his cruiser.

I look to Alastor first, catching the look of worry in his eyes as his smile wobbles at the edges and thins before he turns to me.

He tries to put it back in place. That smile he always wears to face the world.

It breaks my heart a bit to watch him try and put that mask on for me, even here in the privacy of our own home. I reach for him.

“Alastor…I…I’m so sorry, my love…” I murmur, tears welling in my eyes. Despite the fact that I mean to offer him comfort in this moment, I can’t help the sadness I feel blooming in my own chest.

Alastor allows me to wrap my arms around him, even in the muggy Louisiana heat. Our bodies stick together as he wraps his arms around me in turn.

I feel his frame shudder against mine, though no tears fall on my shoulder. Just heavy breaths as he holds me tighter and tighter his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to get a hold of his emotions. I squeeze him tightly in return and repeat the hollow sounding words.

“I’m so sorry, Alastor. I’m so sorry…” I whisper against his shoulder, willing the words to somehow lessen the pain I can feel emanating off him. He draws in one more slightly less shaky and steadying breath before pulling back slightly.

He doesn’t release me from his embrace, just pulls back far enough to meet my eyes. His are red-rimmed with unshed tears…and yet still that wobbly, now broken-looking, smile persists.

He sighs again before admitting in a softer voice than I’ve ever heard him use,

“It’s the strangest thing…I want to call her, to ask what flowers I should procure for her Veille…what hymns she would want sung at the Fèt Sèl…” he murmurs. Alastor’s eyes meet mine with an underlying sense of panic and dread beneath them.

I reach a hand to his face, rubbing a thumb across his cheek to smooth away tears he won’t let fall. I smile sadly up at him.

“We can…go by her house? I’m sure she has some of those things written down somewhere? Or maybe some sheet music lying around… I can play…anythin you’d like me to…” I offer clumsily.

The words feel useless. Powerless to remove any of the deep and profound sadness that seems to echo from deep within my husband.

Yet still he smiles.

He reaches a hand for my cheek as well, brushing a thumb along my cheekbone, to mimic the motion of comfort I’d just offered him.

His eyes…they seem empty for a long and agonizing moment. Then he re-focuses on me, that sad smile still on his lips.

“I…I think she would have loved to have you play. A splendid idea, Dearest…” he says quietly, nodding absentmindedly. His eyes already a million miles away.

I don’t know if I should reach and attempt to pull him back from wherever his mind has gone. Not when everything where we’re currently standing feels so… wrong.

Perhaps we should get moving then…maybe it will help. To see her things again. To walk through the front door of that house where he has so many memories of her… That has to be enough to help.

I slip from Alastor’s embrace, grab my purse and keys off the counter.

He doesn’t even look up as I do so. I bite down on my lip and reach to take his hand.

“Alastor?” I ask and my husband resurfaces from the depths of his mind. His eyes slide to mine and he again pulls his lips in that tight and painful looking smile.

“Yes, Dear?” He asks, so light and conversational. Like he’s shoved the parts of himself that are anything less than perfectly composed so deep beneath this mask of his, I can’t even hear him. I purse my lips and squeeze his hand in mine.

He looks down, like he’s just noticed our joined hands. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, but I blink quickly to avoid them.

“Are you…ready to head over that way? Or would you like a moment…?” I ask, suddenly second-guessing if this is a good idea.

Alastor looks back to me, to my worried face, and for just a moment…his smile falters. He squeezes my hand back, bringing his other hand to rest on top of mine. He brings my knuckles to his lips and places a feather light kiss there.

“Yes. I’m ready. Apologies, Ma Cher, I was…lost in thought.” He says slowly, like he’s just woken up from a bad dream. I nod, still watching his every expression closely.

“That’s understandable dearest…is there…anything I can do for you? Or did you want to sit first, we could talk about it, about her…” I offer and Alastor’s whole body stiffens like I've smacked him.

I move to embrace him, but he shakes his head once. Squeezing my hand in his, he reaches for the door with his other hand.

“Nonsense. There will be time for talking later, there’s much to do if I’m to give Manman the send off she deserves.” He says with an overly confident grin as he tugs me out the door and down the front steps.

*******

Alastor catches the screen door a second too late as it slams open and hits the railing of the front steps to his mother’s house. The door swinging too fast on the broken hinge like it always does. He winces and without thinking starts to call out.

“Padon, Manman I…” he starts before halting abruptly. My heart breaks at the look of shock and grief that colors his features for just moment before he recovers. He turns to me with saddest smirk I’ve ever seen.

“Well…I suppose we’re not disturbing her, are we?” He offers in a teasing tone with unbelievably devastated eyes. I offer him a watery smile- forcing the corners of my mouth upwards.

As we step over the threshold…for a moment it doesn’t feel like she’s gone. Everything is exactly as she left it.

There’s clean dishes on the drying rack, the lingering scent of spice in the air from whatever she cooked last.

Her couch is made up with so many pillows and blankets. Like she was expecting us. Like she’ll come out from the back room any moment now to try and convince us to spend the night, or at least stay for dinner. Not that we ever needed much convincing.

There’s still a book on her bedside table, with a bookmark sticking out from between its pages. Pages she’ll never get to in a story she’ll never finish.

I feel my lower lip wobble. I bite down on it to prevent my emotions from springing forth and instead turn to Alastor.

He’s standing at the window that looks out over her garden. I follow his gaze to the small star-shaped blossoms. She’s grown quite the assortment of colors, but the red ones were always her favorite. You can tell just by looking out this window.

I step close to my husband’s side, wrapping my arms around his middle as I rest my head against his arm. Alastor leans into the touch, tilting his head so it rests on mine.

“Pentas would be lovely for the Fèt Sèl…” I offer to the silence and I feel Alastor nod. We stand there for a few quiet moments, admiring all of his Manman’s quietly beautiful achievements growing here.

I hardly notice the tears trailing down my cheeks until they’re dampening the material of Alastor’s shirt sleeve. He lifts his head to peer down at my tear-stained face. A sad, but understanding smile plays on his lips.

“At least one of us has a heart…” he offers teasingly as he lifts a hand to brush the tears away.

“I’m sorry Alastor…I know she wasn’t my…I just…can’t believe she’s gone…” I stammer, lifting my hands to wipe at my face with the backs of my wrists. Alastor reaches for my hand as I do so.

“Hush. You were just as much hers as I was. In fact, most of the time I was half-convinced she liked you more than me!” He says teasingly with a watery laugh as he brushes away yet another tear before adding,

“She was rather wise after all…” he mutters softly as his eyes take on a sort of far away look again. I can’t stand the sight of it.

I reach my hands for his face, pressing my palms into his cheeks so firmly that it pushes his glasses up a bit.

“Dearest-!” He starts to protest with a surprised arch to his brows as he covers my hands with his.

“She loved you, Alastor. So much.” I say firmly, sincerely. Willing him to understand at least that much. To at least acknowledge what’s been taken from him. He sighs and squeezes my hands softly three times.

A silent ‘I love you’ we’ve learned to offer each other when words aren’t enough. His smile is so full of sorrow as he gazes back at me.

“I know…” he says quietly with a small sigh. I drop my hands from his face in favor of wrapping my arms around him again. Alastor does the same.

There’s no tears or shuddering breaths this time. Just our gentle, even breathing as we hold each other, like we might each protect the other from the cruelty of reality.

Alastor sighs again before quietly speaking,

“I’ll never be able to ask her advice again…from here on out, it’s all …up to me…” he says the words like a revelation he wishes he hadn’t had. I pull back to peer up at him with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling.

“You’ll …just have to ask yourself, ‘what would Manman have done?’…” I offer, the words feeling silly and useless on my tongue. That is, until they make him chuckle softly.

“That line could get me into some trouble, she did have a temper, you know…” he teases before nodding and placing a kiss to my forehead as he adds,

“But, I think you’re right. From now on I’ll simply do as she would have done…in my own style of course.” He adds, flashing a devilish grin as he, without warning, scoops me up into his arms.

“Starting with the fact we’re staying here tonight. And cooking all her favorites…and dancing to all her favorite songs… how does that sound?” He asks, and I could swear the smallest glint of hope shimmers behind his eyes.

So I give him the best smile I can muster with the sadness that I know fills both our hearts and nod.

It's on AO3 RIGHT HERE, or you can just scroll too :)

CW/TW: language, Alastor being Alastor thinks about dismembering or disemboweling a few characters- but he doesn’t actually! Those are inside thoughts.

Alastor's Perspective:

It’s days like this I wonder if Rosie is crueler than she seems and has actually sent me here as some form of personalized punishment.

Watching these souls struggle from time to time isn’t usually so taxing, entertaining even on a good day. But this display the Princess has arranged? Even the spider looks annoyed at the ill-fitting, patchwork trenchcoat he’s been forced to wear for this little ‘exercise’. Conversely, the snake looks a little too pleased to be dressed like a literal child…at least Niffty appears to be enjoying the charade.

I, on the other hand, find myself envious that the short one is up to grab the knock at the door before I can offer to do so. It’s becoming more of an effort than usual to maintain my smile through some of the dialogue the Princess has written for this particular exercise. 

Perhaps if I let my eyes drift out of focus, I might be able to squeeze in a quick nap while sitting up? Husker’s teeth are grinding in the chair next to me, and the sound does always make me tired…

I barely spare a glance at first, as the short one returns with another soul in tow…but there’s something vaguely familiar about the silhouette at her side…my eyes refocus.

It has to be a trick. 

She has to be a trick. 

But… how?

A Sinner with the ability to craft illusions maybe? Or another mind-reader? Perhaps both? My eyes flick from side to side, looking for any sign of how this might be happening, where the mastermind of this clever hoax might be hiding. But there is none.

And my eyes can’t help, but be drawn back to her face. God, that face…

Even if there were a mind reader present…it’s been ages since I’ve even allowed myself to think of those lips, the soft curve of her nose, the almond-like slant of her eyes... 

Only one eye now, though… how curious. What purpose would damaging the image I hold of her in my mind serve in such an elaborate trick?

Not to mention the fact that she’s not completely as I remember her either. Those lips I know, but they’re rendered in a deep blue along with the rest of the Sinner before me. She appears to be made of some kind of dark blue liquid, the way her hair floats and wobbles as it frames her face…just like her curls used to.

She did always love to paint…

No. She can not be here. She is not here. It isn’t her. 

My wife was a saint, she should be in Heaven. She is in Heaven. She has to be…doesn’t she?

My foolish brain is scrambling to do the math for when she might have died, the figure before me looks rather young, she has to be too young to be her. I would have known. If she’d died young, I would have known, wouldn’t I? Surely I would have encountered her before now if she had?

My mind is a tangled mess of numbers and dates, grasping at any straw that might disprove the image before me. 

But then, she speaks.

“Sorry, I…I think I missed that. What did you say?” She asks the Princess, her tone light and mildly dazed, as if she’s just as disoriented as I’m beginning to feel because... 

That’s my wife’s voice.

There’s no mistaking that. No illusions, no tricks. Not when it comes to the sound of her voice.

Down here, there are few illusions I can’t see through, and there are no tricks I cannot hear a mile away. 

A perk of being the Radio Demon, I suppose. An affinity for sound, just as I had in life. The only benefit of the cursed deer ears atop my head.

Though, at the moment, it feels like a bit of a double-edged sword. 

Because this trick I’ve used to snuff out other Overlords, to broadcast their screams, and to listen to the response of the denizens of Hell so I might manipulate them to my own ends…That same reliable sense for sound…is telling me that the Sinner before me is my wife.

At the realization, my mind and body are instantly at war with one another. 

A part of me wants to rush in and hold her close, breathe in the scent of her and never let her go again.

Another part of me wants to disappear into the shadows beneath this couch. To skate across the darkness of the Pentagram, to put a safe distance between she and I. 

But I’ve already seen her and she’s seen me…like this… She might want me to leave…

No, she is my wife… but, if anyone knew that? Knew who and what she is to me…? I have to protect her. I will protect her.

Is leaving the way to do that? No, surely I should stay, I have to stay… if only so that I can burn this image of her into my mind’s eye. Just a bit longer… The sound of my name in Charlie’s voice drags me back to the present moment. 

“-And Alastor, our gracious facility manager! And, you are…?” The Princess is staring at my wife with wide, curious eyes. 

My feet are moving before I can fully make the conscious decision to do so. To put myself between her and Charlie, between her and anyone…between her and everyone.

I can feel Husker and Niffty’s eyes on me, their quiet curiosity reminds my mouth to catch up to the rest of me. So I smile wide, projecting the confidence I know they, and all of Hell, expect from me.

“My Darling Dear…what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice easy and confident as it always is. Though, I’m glad I managed to get the question out before her eye widens in surprise. That shocked expression on her face- if her voice wasn’t enough to convince me- the look on her face would seal the deal.

It’s the same look of genuine surprise whenever I’d stop to visit her at work with flowers ‘just because’. The same look of astonishment she would have when I’d finish a sentence of hers before she could. The same mix of curiosity and wonder she’d have on her features on the rare occasion I’d decide to head home early just to see her… I should have done it more often. Surprised her…

“How…?” She murmurs, still surprised. Adorable doesn’t begin to describe the way her brow furrows in mild confusion. The way her lips remain parted, even when no words are coming out. Like she’s waiting for the right words to come to her and unwilling to leave a question unfinished until they do. I can’t remember the last time I smiled with such genuine warmth behind it.

“I wasn’t sure at first, Hell does have a way of altering one’s appearance after all, but I could never forget that lovely voice of yours, Dear.” I say my words completely earnest for the first time in who knows how long.

She’s still staring up at me with that solitary eye- still brilliant and sparkling with wit and now a bright golden light…? Those perfect lips of hers, still slightly parted, like she still can’t decide which words to use. Speechless. I can’t blame her, even I can’t decide on which words should come first.

Everyone else though is chattering incessantly around us, so much so that I can hardly focus. Not with her standing right there. Do I reach for her? Would she let me?

The things she must know about me by now… it’s a wonder she isn’t running out the door! I should let her. Should let her run far away from me, I should have let her do that a long time ago. The thought is short lived, though as I hear Husker’s crude comment behind me. 

“I don’t recognize this broad though…which is weird cause I thought I knew all Alastor’s ‘acquaintances’ by now…you know this one Nif?” He remarks and I feel my jaw clench tight at the word ‘broad’ to describe the angel before him. Perhaps, I need to lessen the slack on his leash…

At least Niffty has the right of it. She scampers up to my wife with a curious look, tugging at the low hanging fabric hanging from her hips. She stares up at my wife, deliberating a moment.

“Hmmm …nah, I don’t recognise you, lady…you’re really pretty though!” She declares, grinning wide. There’s a reason Niffty is my favorite even after all this time. She sees reason, even with just the one eye. 

Her astute observation appears to have flustered my dear wife, though. A purplish-pink spreads across her cheeks at Niffty’s accurate words. The sight stirs something in my chest that I hardly recognize until it’s out, a genuine laugh. I shoot Niffty a genuine grin to pair with it.

“That she most certainly is, Niffty dear…” I agree and my grin only widens as the blush on my wife’s face spreads.

For Heaven’s sake, how can she still be this beautiful? She hasn’t even smiled and I can’t look away. Even flustered and confused, she's the most brilliant creature I have ever seen. And Husker called her a ‘broad’…

I cut my gaze to his briefly, maintaining my smile of course, but allowing some of the rage at that word to seep into my tone as I speak,

“Husker, do try and refrain from referring to my wife as a ‘broad’…she is a lady and should be referred to as such.” I make an effort to say the words politely solely because she is here, but they are undoubtedly an order. 

It takes Husker a moment to recognize the sincerity of this particular order because at first he has the gall to chuckle. I contemplate disemboweling him right then and there for the offense. He must sense my intent, though, because his face quickly goes slack with fear and disbelief.

“Shit, you’re serious?” He asks and the gathered assembly all gasp before the chattering starts again in earnest.

Fuck.

Perhaps I should have kept that fact to myself. Though, deep down, I already know I couldn’t have. I’ve already been without her for all this time, and here she is standing in front of me. How could I not claim her? She is mine. I couldn’t even allow the Princess to ask her name without stepping between them, for Heaven’s sake. 

The spider appears to be enjoying the display, between his cackling he asks,

“Wait, seriously? You two are married? Like…down here?! Or …do you mean from when you were…up there?” He points upwards, but we all know what he means as the room goes quiet, waiting for an answer.

I’m not particularly interested in answering the spider’s questions. And I’ve already said too much having outed her as my wife. I look to my wife just in time to see her glance towards me. 

I had thought my heart a cold, dead, and shriveled thing by now…but when she looks at me… it begins to thud back to life. I’ve all but forgotten the spider’s question until she answers it.

“We were…married in life, yes…” she says carefully, her eye never leaving mine. 

‘Were’. 

Were?!

I’m briefly unable to think beyond that one word in the past tense. Only she could undo me with a single syllable. To make matters worse, the spider will not cease talking.

“Sheesh…that’s kinda heavy- cause you’re like, crazy old, right, Smiles? So how long’s it been since you've seen each other? Gotta be like decades or somethin’...?” He asks and I feel my left eye twitch. 

It’s been decades since a Sinner dared speak to me in such a flippant tone! Let alone insult me and give me a nickname in the same breath! Decades ago, I’d have ripped his additional limbs from that skinny torso of his and fed them to him. But right now, the Princess is watching. 

My wife is watching…with the smallest of smirks if I’m not mistaken. For her sake, I forgo maiming the spider and opt for a curt reply instead.

“I arrived in Hell quite some time ago, if that’s what you’re referring to, and yes.” I say, keeping my answer short. 

I’ve had just about enough of answering everyone else’s questions. Especially when I have my own to ask her. I need to speak with her. To ask her why she’s here, how she’s here, how long she’s been here. 

I flick my gaze to Charlie, smiling wide as I ask,

“Charlie, dear, seeing as you gave Sir Pentious his tour earlier, perhaps I might give my darling wife a similar one while you all finish up with your role-playing exercises? Seeing as she’s our newest guest…and as Angel so astutely pointed out, it has been quite some time since I last had a moment alone with her.” 

I’m honestly impressed with myself for keeping my tone as even as I do. And Charlie, of course, is thrilled to have me volunteer for any vaguely hotel related activity. She’s chattering on and on, another soul to redeem- how exciting. I nod along because it’s an easy out. 

Anything to get my wife out of this room, to speak to her alone…but before I can even take a step closer to the woman who was the sole reason for my existence- the short one is stepping between us.

“Just to be clear, though, are you here as a guest of Alastor’s or …are you here for redemption?” The Princess’s partner asks, leveling her typical one-eyed glare at me. She’s lucky her gaze is kinder when directed at my wife, or I really might have maimed someone in this lobby.

I skillfully maneuver my body between the one-eyed menace and the one-eyed beauty that is my wife, smiling wide again as I interject.

“Surely two things can be true at once! My wife may be here to see me, but she’s the perfect candidate for your silly little redemption plans. She was an angel in life, and she should be one now! And it’s not as if we’re in the habit of turning souls away, isn’t that right, Charlie?”  

It’s almost too easy to tug on the Princess’s heartstrings. 

She smiles wide in return, placing a hand on her partner’s shoulder in a way that lets me know I’ve won. I shoot the, now glaring, short one a confident grin, mildly pleased to have skated past any more questioning. Charlie is already fetching my wife a room key…! 

Wait, what?

My head snaps to attention as the Princess is grabbing a key from the many available ones off the wall to hand to my wife. Has she finally, actually gone insane?! Did I just inform everyone in the lobby of my wife’s identity for no reason?! I step between them again.

“That won’t be necessary Charlie, dear. She will stay with me in my room.” I say quickly, eyeing the key in the Princess’ hand like an unwanted intruder. She doesn’t put it back on the wall though…

Instead, the room appears to have gone suddenly silent. My gaze flicks around the room to find all the sinners present staring at me with mixed expressions of…concern? My gaze immediately pivots to land on the most important person in the room.

Her blush has spread- going bright pink at the center of her cheeks and fanning outward along her neck and collarbones shines a more purplish hue against her deep blue skin. God, even her Sinner’s form is beautiful, a literal work of art. 

The utter beauty of her has me so dumbstruck, I find myself…slowed. 

Why is she blushing? Was it something I said? About us sharing a room…? Is that why everyone has gone so quiet? My eyes flick to the Princess’ still extended hand and the cursed key she again offers to my wife.

“Oh, is that alright with you?” Charlie asks, and we both turn to the woman who is my literal heart, standing right here before me for the first time in nearly a century. All I can think is how I want to reach for her, hold her close and apologize for…everything.

And the mere idea of sharing a room with me has her blushing and stammering as she replies,

“I…I mean, yes, of course” She says, her voice wavers though, as she speaks and her gaze again flicks to me. My heart, which had only just begun to pound again, stops dead at the uncertainty I see there. Her words are an affirmation, but everyone in the lobby hears the small note of doubt in her tone. 

I suddenly see myself as they all must see me. The Radio Demon, demanding a freshly arrived Sinner be housed in his room after claiming her as his wife. How small she looks next to me in this form… The Princess must see it too because she says,

“I mean, of course! You’re welcome to stay with your husband- he’s your husband! So that makes sense! But…” She pauses for a brief moment, eyes flicking to me before deciding on something as she offers me a placating smile and adds,

“Sometimes…I think the redemption process can be a little daunting and emotionally draining…it might be nice to have your own space! So here, just in case! No pressure either way, totally up to you!”  She says as she hands my wife that cursed key.

My stomach sinks as I watch my wife slip the small key between the folds of fabric at her hip…not quite a pocket? No the fabric wrapped around my wife’s small frame…they’re bandages, I realize. 

I want to take her hand and toss that stupid key. To ask her what’s happened to her. To make sure she’s alright… but I clench my jaw and nod along with Charlie’s reasoning. I just need to play this game long enough to take her on the tour of the hotel. Then I can ask her…everything.

“Of course, how…thoughtful of you Charlie, dear.” I manage to grind out and the Princess gives me a pitying smile before turning to my wife to say,

“I really am so happy you’re here, not just for the hotel’s sake, but Alastor’s too! I know Al likes to think this whole place is one big joke…But I truly believe you all can be redeemed. The pair of you included!” She says, that annoying belief and unwavering …faith of hers shining through again. 

Nothing baffles me more than the Princess’s constant attempts to redeem the souls here…but when I see her direct that energy towards my wife?

She smiles. 

For a moment, I come awfully close to caring for the Princess for having inspired such a beautiful display. I haven’t seen that smile in 87 years…yet it’s just how I remember. The way she shines from the inside out as she replies to Charlie with a polite,

“Thank you, Princess. I appreciate your… optimism on our behalf.” I can’t help, but grin at her polite skepticism. Can’t help but remember how much I always admired that about her, the way she always seemed to remain amiable even in disagreement. The way people hardly noticed her graceful, carefully chosen words were more like a challenge than a compliment. 

Charlie hardly notices either.

“Oh, please call me Charlie! I like to be on a first name basis with all the guests. It’s not as if I called you Mrs.-”,she stops short, a look of confusion and then shock spreading across her features before she whirls to me and exclaims, “Omygosh, Alastor! How do I not know your last name?!?” 

I flash another grin.

“It never came up.” I quip before turning to offer my wife my arm.

“Shall we, Darling?” I ask, extending a hand. My heart starts all over again as she takes my arm. She doesn’t speak her answer, just a small nod as she continues to stare up at me.

I’ve never felt so blessed to be in Hell as I am in this moment. The way she’s looking up at me… like she remembers all of our life together the moment our arms link around one another. I try to communicate to her, without words, that I remember it too. Then with a small nod in return, I gently tug her towards the stairs.

Everyone is chattering again at our backs, but I don’t particularly care enough to listen in as I whisk my wife away up the stairs…

AN: Hey hey, so this is actually a slightly spruced up version of a writing exercise I do sometimes for my main fic ‘Til Death Do Us Part…And Then Some’ !

If you liked this, check it out- cause this is basically just chapter 2 from Alastor’s perspective :) I have a few of these so if y’all like it, I might go back and spruce up a few more of my little writing exercises as little treats between chapters. Writing as Alastor is always a fun time for me 😊

Sorry, it's so late y'all, I lost my mind briefly this week with the rest of the TADC fandom. Took me a sec to get back in the headspace of our fluffy deer-eared boi! That being said, I do like how fluffy and soft this chapter came out, hope y'all do too!

Here's the AO3 LINK and the text will be below, along with the links to previous chapters if you wanna catch up! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 --> thats where you are! Chapter 18/Intermission

Chapter 19

CW/TW: Mostly fluff!, some mild performance anxiety/separation anxiety, some depictions of little shadow demons, mostly lovey dovey stuff though, soft/OOC Alastor

Chapter 17: Waiting to Come Home

Seeing Alastor in this room surrounded by instruments and sheet music sparks a familiar sense of joy in my heart…and just a hint of trepidation.

I halt in the doorway, hovering at the threshold of the music room, just to watch him for a moment.

The way his eyes scan the room like he’s looking for clues. The way he smirks as he steps towards the piano at the center of the space and trails his fingers over the keys. The way his fluffy ears twitch at the sound.

He lifts his eyes back to mine as the keys trill beneath his touch, arching a brow with an expression that looks almost impressed.

“You’ve amassed quite the collection, My Dear…” he says, his voice like a low hum, tinged with static. 

“You know I can’t stand a quiet house…” I say with a shrug of my shoulders stepping into the room with him. He smiles softly at the words and his gaze flicks to the various music stands situated in front of different instruments around the room.

His eyes halt on the ones splayed on the stand in front of my viola, his grin widening a bit as he turns to me.

“Would you mind playing something then? To avoid the quiet and all…” He asks, trailing off as he watches the way my cheeks heat at the suggestion. 

I don’t know why my body reacts the way it does…I’m not embarrassed to play in front of my own husband…am I? The ridiculous feeling spreads along my cheeks and down my neck. 

How many songs and half finished melodies have I written in this exact room with the hope of playing him one?

Yet, now that he’s asked? It’s as though we’re on our third date all over again, the way my hands seem to tremble as I reach for the viola. 

“Was there…something you wanted to hear?” I offer as I lift the instrument to my chin with shaking hands. 

Alastor grins as steps behind me to peer over my shoulder at the scribbled musical notes on the page before me.

“How about this one?” He asks, his eyes shifting towards me as I bite my lip. I nod, staring ahead at the pages of music I’ve been working on in my spare time. Alastor tilts his head to the side as he regards me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you…nervous to play it for me Mon Coeur?” He asks, his voice is soft and teasing. I shake my head too quickly.

“N-no! Of course not! I just… I haven’t played for anyone other than myself in some time…” I explain, trailing off as I realize just how long it’s actually been since I felt compelled to play for anyone else…

Alastor’s brows draw together and his smile thins again as he looks at me. He lifts a hand to my cheek, brushing a thumb along my jaw and stopping just short of where my chin rests on the instrument. He sighs softly, dropping his hand, before saying,

“That’s… unfortunate. I always thought you loved to perform. You always had this radiance about you, like you were glowing from the inside out each time you played…” he says, the last few words in a half a whisper. Like it’s a thought that escaped him before he could filter himself. I twist to meet his gaze.

“I did! I mean, I do, love to perform, I mean, I just…haven’t lately…” I stammer and Alastor smirks at the flustered energy he’s inspired in me.

“Well, what’s stopping you, Ma Cher?” He asks, gesturing to the bow in my hand, still wobbling as it hovers over the strings.

“Nothing! I just…I hope it sounds the way I mean it to. I haven’t played this for anyone else yet, and sometimes it’s hard to judge one’s own work…” I murmur, my eyes shifting to his once more. He meets my searching gaze with a grin.

“Well, only one way to find out, My Dear…” he says, looking on patiently as I hesitantly lower my bow to the strings. I take a deep breath and drop my gaze to the notes I’ve scrawled on the page in front of me.

The first sound is a long, drawn out, high note. The sound hangs in the air a moment before slowly shifting with my bow to something a step lower.

I repeat the motion, repeating the pair of notes a few times, before adding little flourishes and shorter notes in between…until a melody blossoms. The song is slow in tempo at first, increasing its pace gradually throughout as I add more notes and patterns in between the gaps of the original two notes.

I haven’t put lyrics to this particular song, but a working title I’ve been considering is “Waiting”. Mostly because that’s how the combination of notes makes me feel…like the music itself is waiting. It feels as if all the song’s notes are working together to build a long and winding melody towards something…bigger. 

Though… I still haven’t figured out how to convert that something ‘bigger’ into notes on the page yet. 

So, the song ends rather abruptly as I lower the viola from my chin. I turn to Alastor with a half apologetic, half sheepish smile.

“It’s not finished yet…I’m still trying to think of a way to-” I stop short as I catch a glimpse of the expression on his features. 

I can’t quite place the emotion lying behind his eyes. It’s something like grief, pride, and love wrapped all into one. I give him a lopsided smile at the sight.

“Alastor-?” I start, but suddenly his hands are cupping my face as he lifts my chin to place a kiss to my lips.

This kiss isn’t like the others we’ve had in Hell. There’s no searing heat that makes me want to reach for his clothes and tear them away. No desperate need to instantly deepen the connection or pull our bodies together until they’re intertwined.

But… There is an undeniable warmth to this kiss. Alastor’s warmth. It fills every crevice of my heart and blossoms in my very soul as his lips find mine. 

His lips are gentle, tender, and loving. I’m half convinced that if he didn’t pull away, I could lean in and fall asleep standing up in the comfort of his embrace. 

But eventually, our lips part, and as my eye flutters open- Alastor is staring down at me with a soft smile. That same warmth I just felt in my chest, flickers behind his eyes. It brings a smile to my lips.

“I…take it you liked it, then?” I ask teasingly, grinning up at him like a love-struck fool I am. Alastor nods, but his eyes shift with a certain…focus towards the sheet music.

“When did you write this?” He asks softly, lifting a hand to gesture to the unfinished music on the stand. I blink at his question- still slightly disoriented by his kiss.

“I, um, well it’s hard to say. I’ve been adding to it for over a year now…it never feels like it’s quite finished…” I murmur, touching a hand to my mouth absentmindedly. The lingering warmth of Alastor’s lips still faintly tangible against my fingertips. 

Alastor grins at the motion, but his eyes are still sharp with something I can’t quite identify. 

“No lyrics, yet?” He probes, keeping his voice light and teasing…but there’s an underlying sense of urgency beneath that playful tone. I quirk my lips to the side and shake my head.

“No…I…I honestly don’t know if I’ll put lyrics to this one. I wanted it to…” I trail off shrugging as I attempt to abandon the thought. But Alastor’s claw-tipped fingers lift my chin until our gazes meet.

“You wanted it to what, Mon Coeur?” He asks with a quiet intensity that had me answering from the heart without hesitation.

“I wanted the notes to speak for themselves. To tell the story with just their sound…does that make any sense?” I murmur, my eye focused on his. Alastor nods, his smile softening as I speak.

“And what story is that?” He asks, his fingers still holding my chin- not allowing me to avoid his gaze again. 

“I…I still don’t know. I think that’s why I haven’t finished it…” I murmur, my brows furrowing at the intensity of his curiosity. But before I can ask him about it he asks,

“And this?” He gestures to the scrawled working title in the corner of the last page.

‘Waiting’.

I scrunch my nose as he points it out and shrug. 

“That’s just a working title…it’s just how the song feels to me so far…” I explain, but I trail off as I stare back at my husband.

Alastor’s face looks almost pained. His smile has thinned and his eyes… I can’t place the emotion there, not until he speaks again.

“I know I have kept you ‘waiting’ for quite some time Mon Coeur-” he begins and my eye widens at his words and I feel my cheeks heat once more. I shake my head.

“Alastor, that’s-” I begin to try and explain. To try and ease some of that guilt that seems to line his words. But he continues with a shake of his head as he kneels before me, taking my hands in his.

“I promise you, my Dear, that very soon, you will never have to wait for me, or anything else, ever again. I will see to it.” He says the words with such sincerity, like a vow.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what he means by it. 

To ask what’s going to happen ‘very soon’ that makes him so sure. To assure him that I know he wouldn’t have kept me waiting if he’d known I was here. To explain that with him here now, it no longer feels like waiting…but emotion clogs my throat and blurs my vision. 

Golden tears pool at the corner of my eye at his words. So quickly, I don’t even have time to blink them away before Alastor stands again and brushes them away gently with the back of his thumb. 

We stare at each other wordlessly for a few long moments.

If it were anyone else, I might try to fill the silence. 

But it doesn’t feel like silence when I’m with Alastor. It never has.

His very presence seems to fill the spaces between words with a gentle hum.

Whether it’s his even breathing that sets a pace so steady you could set your watch to it. Or the slight rustle of the fabric of his pristine coat as he bends an arm to brush a thumb along my cheek. And that ever present static that buzzes softly around and in between his every word in this realm…

I smile softly up at him and he mirrors the movement before that soft smile breaks into a full on grin as he adds,

“In fact, I’ll start by ensuring you needn’t wait any longer to play any of these. Shall we bring them all back home with us?” He asks, gesturing to the instruments that lie scattered around the room. 

My smile widens at the word ‘home’.

I haven’t felt like I’ve had one of those since the day he died. 

Our house stopped being a home the instant I realized he’d never walk through the front door again.

Then the asylum and Greed…those places were prisons, decidedly not home either. 

Even this apartment Carmilla had been kind enough to let me stay in has never really felt like my home. I’ve decorated and filled it with things that bring me joy…yet it always felt empty. No matter how many memories or songs I tried to fill it with.

But that strange, ramshackled, building on that blasted hill in uptown that the Princess of Hell hopes to redeem lost souls in? Somehow, when Alastor calls it ‘home’, it truly feels like one. So I nod, still grinning up at him.

“I think I’d like that… we might need to make a few trips though…” I say, eyeing some of the larger instruments like the piano and the harp warily as I wonder how long it might take to transport them. But Alastor grins confidently with a shake of his head.

“Nonsense. Didn’t I just say I wouldn’t keep you waiting any longer?” He asks teasingly before snapping his fingers.

I gasp as all of the shadows beneath the instruments in this space seem to ripple.

My mouth pops open in surprise, as I watch small, horned, grinning creatures materialize and crawl out from the inky depths of their respective shadows. The creatures all share some morbid version of Alastor’s ever-present grin, as well as some stitching along their limbs and smiles. They all appear to be made- at least partially- of shadow. 

Without a word, Alastor snaps his fingers again and the creatures each move to wrap their shadowy claws, tails, and -for some of the smaller ones- their whole bodies around the instruments. I look on in morbid fascination as the instruments begin to sink back into the shadows alongside their new escorts.

Alastor chuckles at my slackjawed expression as he offers me an arm.

“They’ll meet us back in the hotel’s lobby. Now, was there anything else you’d like to retrieve? Or shall we make our exit as well?” He asks, as he watches me re-focus.

“I… No, I don’t think so… Alastor, what were those creatures?” I murmur, still staring dumbfounded at my now completely empty music room. 

They cleared the room I would have thought would take days if not weeks to empty. A room it’s taken me years to fill with all kinds of instruments. And not just the instruments themselves but various cloths, oils, and rosins that accompanied them. Not to mention the vast amounts of sheet music, and the music stands too….

Those creatures…they cleared it in a matter of seconds. A chill runs along my spine. Alastor merely shrugs.

“Oh, them? Just some little helpers I recruited along the way. Shall we join them? I can make introductions if you’d like.” He offers teasingly, extending a hand. I take his offered arm as we too, disappear into shadow.

*******

After a few moments of rushing dark and shadow, we reappear in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel- just as Alastor said we would. 

Alongside us, the little stitched creatures of shadow hover around my instruments. Alastor dismisses them with a wave of his hand and they sink back into the shadows along the floor, leaving the instruments strewn about.

I can’t help but stare at the space they occupied just moments before. Something about them felt like… an extension of Alastor’s power? Yet, not… I look to my husband who is already watching me with a patient expression. He cocks his head to one side, like he’s daring me to ask.

“Are they…still here?” I ask curiously, peering into one of the nearby shadows like it’s a puddle and I might see one of the little stitched creatures swimming within its depths. But it’s only a shadow, same as any other I’ve seen. I frown, shifting my gaze to Alastor’s amused expression. He shakes his head.

“No, but I can recall them if you like?” he offers, his words are teasing and light, but his expression is sharp and attentive. Like he’s prepared to answer any question I might have, but not until I’ve asked it. 

Which is so like my clever, conspiring, secretive husband…it makes my heart skip a beat. 

Before I can ask him much more though, Charlie comes barrelling through the door of the hotel behind us. She looks slightly haggard and is carrying a large box that makes a clacking sound within as she jostles it.

“I’m baaaack! And I got recorders…! Oh…” She exclaims before her eyes widen as she glances at all the instruments now scattered across the lobby. Her expression brightens and she drops the box with another clacking sound as she turns to the pair of us.

“I think you guys might have had a little more luck than me on the whole ‘find instruments’ front! This is incredible!! Where did you manage to find all of these?! I looked for hours and the only thing I could find was another piano which was WAY too expensive and then this box of recorders!” Charlie explains, nudging the box at her feet with a slightly self-conscious expression.

I chuckle a bit at her explanation and grin at her question. I follow her gaze to my scattered collection and shrug.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve had a bit longer than a few hours to amass this ensemble.” I say a little sheepishly as the Princess turns her wide-eyed stare on me. 

“These are the instruments you mentioned during the ‘Roses and Thorns’ exercise earlier? I remembered you mentioned a viola and a saxophone, but…” She turns again to the array of instruments sprawled out behind her. 

“I guess I didn’t realize you just meant you missed your favorites!” She adds with a light laugh before her features take on a more pensive expression.

“Would you be willing to let us use some of these for music therapy? It’s more instruments than I’ve ever seen in one place in Hell! But… I don’t wanna just assume you’d be willing to part with any of these. It must have taken you a while to find them all…” Charlie muses before directing that considerate and curious stare of hers back to me.

Alastor’s static surges slightly at my side and I can feel his eyes on me as well at the Princess’ question. I bite my lip and step forward to pluck my viola and a tarnished saxophone from the fray and nod. 

“I think these are the only ones I’d like to keep for myself, if that’s alright? But feel free to use any of the others! I’m still working on repairing some of the strings on that harp, but the piano was just recently tuned…, and the rest should all work fine for whatever you might need…” I muse as I scan the collection of instruments again before nodding and turning back to Charlie. 

She is beaming at me with a smile that sparks one of my own as I grin back at her. Perhaps it is infectious. 

“Really?!?” She squeals and without waiting for an answer she giggles as she wraps her arms around me in a quick, but tight hug. Alastor’s static crackles again. 

Charlie hardly seems to notice as she pulls back, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. I’m mildly relieved when Vaggie walks through the door behind her as the Princess’ partner becomes the new recipient of all Charlie’s energy.

Vaggie drops several duffles of what looks like boxing gloves and training mats as Charlie tackles her with a hug and begins to animatedly explain the mess of various instruments still scattered around the lobby. 

Vaggie listens with an amused expression and shoots me a look that’s almost impressed as Charlie chatters. When she pauses for breath, Vaggie interjects.

“That’s great, hon! Like…really great, actually. Definitely more progress than I expected us to make in a day. I do think we might run into the slight hiccup of… I don’t know how to play any of those…” Vaggie says carefully and reaches a hand to rest on Charlie’s shoulder as she deflates.

“Oh…I guess that would be kind of an important step…but-” Charlie whirls back to me with a smile that’s now slightly more predatory as she asks,

“Do you know how to play all of these? I mean you must, right? You’ve had them all just lying around! Ooh! Do you think you could help lead music therapy? Or music lessons for music therapy?!? Or both?!?!” She asks in rapid succession and I feel my stomach do a flip.

My knees wobble at her questions, but before my nerves can overtake me- I feel Alastor’s hand at my lower back, a comforting and steady warmth, as he steps close to my side. He peers down at me with a reassuring smile and a raise of his brows.

“What do you think, Mon Coeur? Perhaps we might even resume your piano lessons?” He offers teasingly and I feel my cheeks heat even as my lips curve.

“I’ve gotten much better, I’ll have you know!” I protest with a laugh as I playfully elbow his side and he chuckles. Charlie and Vaggie watch the exchange with hopeful eyes. I smile at the pair of them too and shrug.

“I…I suppose I could help with music lessons, for anyone who wants them. I don’t really have any formal training though, and I’m much better with strings and woodwinds. Alastor’s always been the piano virtuoso.” I offer as Alastor rolls his eyes at my side.

“My darling wife is being modest. She has an affinity for instruments like no other I’ve seen! It’s one of the many reasons I asked her to marry me.” Alastor brags on my behalf with a flourish to the massive spread of instruments. 

Charlie’s eyes flick back and forth between the pair of us as we speak. Her excitement is a near palpable thing as she practically vibrates with energy. Vaggie looks on at the exchange with a look of mild amusement.

“I didn't know you played, Al.” She says with a raise of her brow and Alastor shrugs casually. 

“It never came up.” He says dismissively and I gape up at him.

“You really haven’t played the piano that was already here in the lobby?!” I ask my husband, disbelief coloring my tone.

In life, it was a rare thing for Alastor to pass by any piano without sliding onto the bench and taking it for a spin. Every bar, every speakeasy, even visiting friend’s houses or fancy investor parties…he always found an excuse to play…

Now, he rolls his eyes at the notion.

“I am the host of the hotel here, Ma Cher. Not the entertainment. Besides, you are the music instructor here, now.” He says pointedly with another gesture to the collection of instruments strewn about. I shake my head and pout my lips slightly.

“But…but you’re the one who taught me to play!” I turn to Charlie and Vaggie like I might recruit them to my efforts.

“You really haven’t heard him play, not once?” I ask them and they shake their heads skeptically. I turn in search of Husker and find him leaning heavily on the bar across the room.

“Have you Husk? Heard Alastor on piano, I mean.” I call across the space and he straightens, like he’s surprised to be noticed. Then shrugs and replies with a nonchalant tone,

“Not without more than a few drinks in him…and not in a while too, now that you mention it…” Husk offers as he takes another swig from his flask. Alastor shoots him a pointed glare to which Husk responds with a devilish grin as he calls out to Niffty.

“How ‘bout you Nif? You ever hear the boss play when he wasn’t hammered?” Husk asks with a cat-like glint of mischief in his eyes as the words seem to summon Niffty from some far off corner of the hotel. 

She materializes in an instant from under a chaise, grinning like mad at all the instruments as she begins to dart back and forth between them, dusting vigorously as she answers Husk’s question.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard him play before! He’s really good! You should play more Sir, it’s good to have music on for cleaning! It makes all the bugs scatter!!” She cackles, hopping from one instrument to the next as she continues dusting.

“I’ve heard the Radio Demon used to play decades ago at a bar down in the Entertainment district…” Sir Pentious chimes in as he slithers down the staircase, having been spying from the balcony above.

Alastor shoots him a look that’s half menacing and half annoyed. Sir Pentious recoils, pausing his descent as he adds,

“I had always wondered if any of the actual music from your earlier broadcasts had actually been performed by you…Mr. Radio Demon…Sir…” Pentious mumbles, stammering the last few words. Alastor’s brows raise, another hint of surprise coloring his features before he regains his composure and nods tersely. 

“I have performed in Hell for several decades in a variety of ways.” He says in a clipped tone that gives up nothing. A satisfied smirk curving his mouth as everyone else quiets at his declaration. I smirk up at him.

“Then, perhaps you wouldn’t mind playing now, ‘to avoid the silence and all?’” I ask teasingly, parroting his earlier phrasing when he asked me to play. I gesture to the space that now houses two pianos, one of which I know to be perfectly in tune. 

Alastor narrows his eyes as if in challenge and his grin widens.

“‘Was there something you wanted to hear?’” He asks, copying my earlier response and I laugh lightly. I put a thumb to my lower lip in thought for a moment. What do I want to hear him play? There’s almost too many options to pick from…

As I’m deliberating, Angel Dust comes striding through the front door of the hotel and stops short at the sight of all of us here in the lobby surrounded by all the instruments I’ve been able to collect down here in Hell. There’s a surprised and somewhat bewildered look on his face as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Ya know, a lotta weird shit happens here…we havin’ some kind of party down here tonight or somethin’?” He asks, glancing towards Charlie, who beams at him in response.

“Actually, these are going to be for the music therapy exercises we're going to be offering here at the hotel!!” She exclaims in a sing-songy trill that has Angel’s brows rising in amusement.

“Oh yeah? Sounds cool, wish I could play.” Angel says with a shrug of his shoulders in a dismissive tone. Charlie’s gaze shoots to me, pleading and hopeful. I sigh softly and clear my throat.

“I…I could teach you, Angel. If you wanted to learn, I mean…” I say in a slightly wobbly tone. Alastor’s hand at my back shifts slightly to rub a small reassuring circle. I shift my gaze to his to find him grinning down at me with an unmistakable pride in his eyes. I smirk back up at him, my tone evening as I add,

“In fact, I’ll teach you any instrument you like, just as soon as I think of something for Alastor to play right now. It’s come to my attention he’s never played for you all here…” I say in a teasing tone and Alastor’s static sputters a moment as he raises his brows in challenge once more.

“I ask again, ‘was there something you wanted to hear?’” He repeats, his smile widening. His grin must be a bit contagious too, as everyone in the room seems to smile as Alastor takes a few quick steps to the piano we brought from my apartment. 

He’s seated in one fluid movement and twists to face me with a look of challenge as he adds,

“One song. But pick anything you like, Ma Cher.” He offers, running those claw-tipped fingers over the keys quickly and skillfully, eliciting a playful trill from the instrument. 

The sound sparks a memory and I grin cause I know it doesn’t matter which song he plays. So long as it’s something he’s written. Something that sounds like him, with all his little improvisations and flourishes that I’ve missed so dearly…

“Any of the ones you’ve written, I always liked hearing what you came up with…” I say with a warm smile and Alastor’s playfully challenging gaze softens into something warmer as well. He sighs slightly and then smirks at me as he nods and begins to play without a word.

Everyone in the lobby seems to gravitate towards the sound. I’d be convinced it was some kind of demonic power he’d gained if I hadn’t seen it a million times. When Alastor plays, it’s nearly impossible not to listen. It’s like the sound pulls you in close, moving your body to the rhythm before you’ve even noticed.

As the notes continue, Alastor’s fingers drum out a playful little riff that sounds almost completely improvised…except for I recognize it. My cheeks warm at the memory and a smile tugs my lips. Angel steps to my side with a knowing look and a mildly impressed expression.

“Your hubby’s pretty good huh? You know this one?” He half mutters, not wanting to speak too loudly over the Radio Demon’s song. I grin at his questions and nod, momentarily too happy to even really put it into words. Angel chuckles softly as he asks,

“Well…it got any lyrics?” He asks, raising his brows at me in challenge and I chuckle as I catch his implication. 

“It does, as a matter of fact…” I murmur back as I step a little closer to the piano, before beginning to sing along softly.

“I wanna know about love,

Don't know nothing 'bout love,

Teach me all you know,

Make me love you so,

Put me in the groove,

That's how I feel about you,

Come on and hold my hand-” 

I sing because I’m unable to resist the way Alastor’s smile widens right when his ears twitch as he hears my voice. 

Though, on the words, ‘come on and hold my hand’ I feel a familiar, cool, thrumming  sensation wrap around one of my hands and tug me into a rhythm. 

My eye widens as I twist from Alastor to find his Shadow, grinning playfully as it leads me in a dance. A small laugh of disbelief escapes me as Alastor’s Shadow effortlessly pulls me through the familiar steps. It's the same dance Alastor and I made up together when he wrote this song for me. 

He’d pressed the record himself.

And that was after already recording of himself playing and staying late at the recording studio to ensure it was just right. All because of an offhand comment I’d made about how the only downside to his playing was that we couldn’t dance to it together. So, naturally, he solved that problem.

I’d told him it was the most beautiful gift I’d ever received…and now he’s somehow managed to give it to me all over again. 

I twist in his Shadow’s arms to catch my husband’s gaze. He shoots me a triumphant smile as he launches into the final measures of the song and I sing the final notes alongside him.

“That’s how I feel about you…” The final notes from my voice and the piano seem to hang in the air for a moment, suspended in a moment between sounds.

The moment doesn’t last long before cheering and the scattered applause of the other residents of the hotel join in. Everyone looks to be some combination of surprised, amused, and impressed. Charlie most of all, as she beams at the two of us as she claps.

“OMYGOSH! You guys were incredible!!! Alastor, maybe you could help with music classes too! Oh! Or dance classes?! Or maybe your Shadow could do the dancing part?! Is that a thing?!?” Charlie chatters, proposing one idea after the next, with barely a breath in between. 

Alastor stands from the piano bench and grins at her, but shakes his head.

“Charlie, dear, I’m happy to offer my aid if necessary, but I think my wife will have the music lessons well in hand. I assure you, I’ve taught her everything I know! And she knows a great deal more than that!” He says teasingly as his Shadow sinks into the others on the floor and his physical body takes its place, his hand grabbing mine just as his Shadow drops it. 

A small smile tugs at my lips at his casual praise. And a smirk at his easy avoidance of getting roped into dancing lessons or any of the Princess’s other suggestions. Alastor catches my smirk and offers one of his own as he adds,

“Though, with such a compelling teacher…Perhaps I might swing by a few lessons myself.” He whispers to me with a conspiratorial grin.

I laugh. Enjoying the warmth not only of his gaze, but of this space, and these souls within it. 

Enjoying the warmth of being home with my husband.

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Just a couple extras about this chapter cause it's got a lot going on! Music wise- If you wanna hear the inspiring tracks for the two songs in this chapter the first one played by the narrator reminds me of 'Would you Fall in Love with me Again' from The Ithaca Saga of Epic by Jorge Rivera-Herrans! Specifically, Penelope's part (Odysseus is just so Alastor-coded to me idk, or maybe it's the other way around?)

The song Alastor plays is called 'How I Feel About You', specifically Blue Harlem's version (OG artists are Buddy and Ella Johnson, but the Blue Harlem version has a much flirtier piano intro that just SCREAMS Alastor's hands doing this)

What is it about this man’s HANDS?!?

Ahem, anyhoo…

Also, just a head's up, next chapter will likely be a bit of a time skip cause we're gonna get to some juicy bits of the story here soon! Tune on in!

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I recently stumbled across the *Clair Obscure: Expedition 33* soundtrack again and couldn’t help but notice how *Une vie à t’aimer* and *Une vie à peindre* seemed to resonate with how Wifey’s state of mind could be following her husband’s death or during her search throughout Hell. Especially the choruses. Were they part of your sources of inspiration when building her character ?

This is such a fun ask @sinmelae028 !!!

I actually was playing Expedition 33 earlier this year when I was working on this fic!

I’m obsessed with that soundtrack (Lorien Testard is a genius and has gotta be rapidly climbing to one of my most listened to artists! That soundtrack is a constant on my writing playlist!)

To actually answer your question, I don’t know! lol I bet I subconsciously pulled some themes from Expedition 33 for Wifey’s backstory/state of mind. Going back (and translating the lyrics cause my French comprehension is *tres mauvaise*) it definitely fits her to a tee!

I think I pull inspiration from a lot of different music and other media while writing her! I’ve been contemplating making a playlist for the fic too, and this would be a good jumping off point!

Option 1

Option 2

This chapter lowkey has some plot bunnies I’ve been dying to get to! Sooo, hope y’all like it!

AO3 link right HERE! But as always the chapter text will be below if ya just wanna scroll! Links to previous chapters below too! :)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 <- this one

Chapter 17 Chapter 18/ Intermission

Chapter 19

CW/TW: MDNI,Demi-sexual Alastor/ OOC Alastor, smut, NSFW, edging (?) second-hand embarrassment, and I honestly don’t even know how to appropriately tag this- supernatural kink?, mirror sex, lies of omission, just poor choices made in general, and an angsty cherry on top

Chapter 16: Reminisces Rendered

Alastor’s lips have migrated from the space between my neck and jaw and down to my collarbone as we reach the top of the stairs.

It’s a dizzyingly distracting sensation.

With him holding me like this, there isn’t anything to ground me outside of …him. Alastor’s arms are wrapped tight around my back and behind my knees as he holds me close in a bridal carry. My side pressed against his chest as his lips trail a line of heat down my neck and chest.

The warmth of him seems to seep into my very bones. His lips alternating between feather-light kisses and affectionate little nips along my exposed skin…it’s impossible to have a thought outside of him in this moment.

However, Alastor himself is ever practical. He pulls back just long enough to survey the hall at the top of the stairs and huff in mild annoyance as he glares at the multitude of doorways leading to the different rooms of the penthouse apartment.

“Which of these doors leads to a room with a bed?” He half growls, smirking down at me with a wicked gleam in his eye. I grin back up at him and lift an arm to point down the hall.

“Last door on the left.” I murmur a little breathlessly, my breath hitching a little as I speak. Alastor’s grin widens at the sound. 

Then his lips are on mine, his claw-tipped fingers digging into my skin. My heartbeats pound in sync with his steps as he closes the distance between us and my bedroom door. 

Alastor’s shadow must open the door to the space because his hands never leave my body as I hear the door open and close. 

I let out a small, muffled moan, exhaling against his lips as I feel my back pressed into the mattress. Alastor’s frame is a comforting weight as he leans in over me. Drawing back he trails even more kisses down my neck and collarbone, pulling even more whimpers from my lips.

Then…there’s a pause in his affections as his body stills against mine. My breath catches as my eye flutters open without having realized I even closed it. 

His face looks…amused? My brow furrows as I open my mouth, about to ask him what’s so funny about this particular moment, when his gaze shifts back to mine and softens.

“I’ll admit, this might be testing the limits of even my ego, Mon Coeur…” he says teasingly. He must catch the look of confusion on my features cause he lifts his chin to gesture at something on the wall-

“Shit!” I exclaim, my cheeks burning as I struggle to sit up, his hips still pinning mine in place. Alastor laughs at my outburst.

“I don’t believe I’ve heard you curse in over 80 years, Dearest! Surely such beautiful creations aren’t reason enough to resort to such language!” He chuckles as embarrassment colors my features.

In the haze that is his touch, I’d nearly forgotten how I’ve been…decorating this place. The walls are covered in various sketches, sheet music, and paintings of mine. 

Most of them are unfinished or works in progress. And while there are some rough sketches of Encre, some sheet music for melodies I’ve been working on, and even one or two pieces I’ve been working on for Carmilla and her girls, most of the illustrations in this room depict… Alastor. My blush spreads from my cheeks to along my neck.

“Most of them aren’t finished! And I… well, I…” I fumble for words as I try again to sit up and explain myself. 

But what even is there to explain? I look around my room as I have nearly every night these last 5 and half years…it’s as many memories of Alastor as I could fit in the space.

There’s an unfinished sketch of him in his recording booth, gesticulating grandly as he speaks into a microphone. With neon lights in the background that spell out ‘The Toast of New Orleans’. 

There’s a charcoal lined image of Alastor with his back against an alley wall outside the Cadillac club, smoking a cigarette. Clouds of smoke billowing out in front of him. He watches the smoky clouds with the most contemplative expression- like he’s looking for the answer to something in his own exhalation.

There’s a painting of Alastor cooking jambalaya at our kitchen stove. It’s full of bright reds and oranges from when I’d found a particularly beautiful set of paints in the entertainment district a few years ago. 

The combination of how I managed to paint his smile just so, and the warm colors surrounding his face… the gentle light of the image has helped me fall asleep on more than one occasion in this room…

There are dozens of images of him. 

Memories of him.

 My human husband.

There are also a few attempts to recreate his demon form, cobbled together based on descriptions Carmilla and other Sinners have given over the years. 

All of those are sketches, with so many smudges surrounding the lines from erasing over and over again…

Alastor with ebony antlers that stretch wide and branching above his head.

Alastor with radio dials for eyes and razor sharp teeth.

Alastor with red hair that forms fluffy deer-like ears and a staff like a microphone, twirling between his fingers.

None of them do him justice. I bite the corner of my lip, peering up at him. 

He’s studying me as I’ve trailed off. Likely still waiting for some kind of explanation that I seem to be unable to articulate. 

Alastor’s smile is still present, like always, but softer around the edges as he shifts to allow me to sit up alongside him on the bed. He lifts a hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.

“Will you tell me about the ones that are finished then?” He asks softly after a thoughtful pause. His gaze shifts to the brightly colored painting of him cooking as he jerks his chin in its direction.

“This one… reminds me of home.” He says softly, the static ebbing away from his words until he sounds just like the man depicted in the painting. I sigh and lean into his side as we stare at the painting for a beat in companionable silence.

“That one… is one of my better attempts…” I admit after a pause and Alastor chuckles as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his lap as he kisses the crown of my head. 

“‘Attempts’? Darling, it’s a masterpiece! Just look at the likeness!” He teases as he smiles wide just as I’ve painted him doing and I can’t help but laugh.

“I think I might have to adjust it for ‘likeness’ at this point…” I say with a laugh as I reach to trail my fingers along his fluffy deer-like ears with a grin. Alastor smirks playfully, leaning into my touch, and I smile softly as I add,

“It wasn’t just your likeness I was attempting to recreate, though…” I murmur softly, shifting my one-eyed gaze back towards the painting. I press my lips together as I contemplate how to explain precisely what exactly I was trying to achieve with all these pieces…

“Oh?” Alastor prompts, his smile taking on that amused slant as he nuzzles the space behind my ear before placing a gentle kiss there.

“Then, what was it you were attempting here, Mon Coeur? Besides inflating my ego to unimaginable new heights?” He teases, flashing me a brilliant smile as he gestures to the walls full of artwork.

I smile softly… and somewhat sadly up at him before speaking.

“I…I wasn’t allowed any pictures of you…back in the asylum…” I admit after a long pause. Alastor’s arms tighten around me at the words. His static flares, but he doesn’t speak, as he waits for me to continue.

“They said it would only make it harder to ‘move on’…and whenever I had the rare opportunity to draw or paint… all my renderings of you were confiscated.” I say, a shiver rolling along my skin despite the warmth of Alastor’s body wrapped around mine.

“Then, in Greed, well… I wasn’t really allowed to do much without being manacled-” I start, but at the word ‘manacled’ Alastor’s body stiffens against mine as his static whines.

“A fact I will ensure Mammon pays for in blood…” he growls against my hair, tightening his grip around me.

I press my lips together in the same sad sort of smile and reach my hand for one of his, twining our fingers together. I squeeze his massive hand with my much smaller one before adding,

“It felt like a continuation of being in the asylum sometimes, being in Greed…but at the same time, it was better…” I mumble, lifting my chin to glance up at my husband’s face. 

 Alastor’s lips are quirked to the side in a sort of doubtful smile. His eyes are filled with concern as he squeezes my hand in turn. I lean into his warmth, letting my face rest against the fabric of his lapel before speaking again.

“My captors in Greed…some of them were fans of yours. So, they’d play your broadcasts …and I would get to hear your voice…" Despite the trauma surrounding the memory, a ghost of a smile tugs at my lips as I lift my gaze to his again.

Alastor’s expression is conflicted. There’s an undeniable anger at the word ‘captors’ alone, his jaw tightening at the mention of them. A flicker of something like pride that his voice managed to reach me when he could not. And something like sadness and longing in his eyes as I recount hearing his voice in that space.

“And then…eventually, I wound up here. Carmilla gave me this place, a percentage of the profits she made selling my tears, and I was suddenly allowed to do…anything I wanted…” I gesture to the paintings and sketches around us.

“When I wasn’t looking for you, I was drawing you, painting you, there are even some half finished songs for you in the other room… I would sketch and scribble constantly, trying to preserve any memory I’d managed to hold on to, terrified to forget a single one…” I murmur as I look back to him before saying,

“I was attempting to …remember you. Remember the way all these images made me feel, back when they were real…” I say, reaching my hand towards his chest.

I can feel his steady heartbeat beneath my palm. I curl my fingers around the sound, like I might be able to hold onto it and write a score for it later. A nonsensical notion really, but my lips quirk to the side nonetheless as I lift my gaze to his again. Alastor’s eyes seem to burn as he asks,

“And how is it, exactly, these illustrations make you feel?” He asks, his voice a static-laced whisper once more. I bite my lip, my cheeks warming again.

“Do you really have to ask?” I murmur, meeting his gaze. Alastor smirks.

“If only because I want to hear your reply.” He says teasingly, his voice like a caress against my skin. He gestures to the painting of him at the stove again and asks,

“What does this one make you feel?” He asks, his tone curious and light. I smile as I sink back against him.

“Warm…like the spices you used to cook with…” I murmur, smiling softly at the memory. Alastor grins and points to the charcoal image of him smoking.

“And that one?” He asks, and I furrow my brow as I try to think of the right word.

“Curious…? I remember this night so vividly…I always wondered what you were thinking before you turned and saw me walking towards you…” I say, twisting in his lap to peer up at him curiously.

“Do you remember?” I ask lightly and he grins down at me with a shrug.

“Let’s not ruin the mystery of the piece you’ve created now, my Dear! What about that one?” He asks, changing the subject as he points to the sketch of him in the recording studio. I smile again.

“Joyous…I always loved hearing you perform… and you always sounded so happy on air…” I say softly and he grins again. 

Alastor’s eyes scan the room, roving over the many renderings of his face before he lands on the one I keep by my bedside.

The painting he points to is smaller, facing the pillow on the side of the bed I usually sleep on.

 I painted it from my perspective.

 It depicts Alastor leaning in to kiss the top of my hand, his lips still curved in half a smile against my skin. His honeyed eyes seem to smile along with his mouth, his glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose, his hair tousled and catching the evening sun. 

“How about this one?” He asks teasingly as he reaches and lifts it from my bedside table. My cheeks warm as I regard the image.

“That one makes me feel…loved…” I offer, though, my voice wobbles on the word. Alastor’s brows raise and his crimson eyes spark with mischief.

“‘Loved’…and any other feelings this particular image inspires, my Dove?” He asks, his voice dipping in pitch, taking on a low, sultry timbre. I swallow hard as my blush spreads down my neck and across my chest.

“I…well it…ummm…” I stammer, suddenly all too aware of how that painting in particular has made me feel so many of these nights on my own…

Alastor’s grin widens. My blush worsens as I manage to squeak out.

“That one inspires some… feelings that can be a bit difficult to articulate…” I say, wondering if my cheeks are hot to the touch with how warm it suddenly feels in here. Alastor’s fingers reach for my cheek like he’s curious too. He cups my face as he angles my gaze to meet his.

“Perhaps, if words can’t describe it, you might show me how it makes you feel?” He asks, his voice low, teasing, and laced with something deliciously dangerous. 

The low timbre of his words sparks something lustful and hot in my core. And his actual words spark an idea…a risqué idea…

“I…I could show you…quite literally. If you wanted to see?” I offer carefully, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper as I hold his burning stare.

Alastor’s brows rise in equal parts curiosity and challenge.

“Show me then.” He commands softly, lifting a hand to gesture towards me. I move to stand from the bed and his embrace and he arches a brow. A teasing grin of my own tugs at my lips as I reach for his hand.

“You’ll have to stand up from there if you want to see…” I say, my voice taking on a teasing tone of my own. Alastor’s eyes narrow but he allows me to tug him to his feet until we’re both standing beside the bed.

I hold his gaze a moment longer, biting my lower lip before I drop his gaze and move towards the rumpled sheets before I can lose my nerve. 

Alastor watches with curious fascination as I run my fingers over the rumpled bedding. I glance sidelong just long enough to catch his curious stare as he stands just behind me. 

There’s a hundred questions he’s actively stopping himself from asking as he watches me. I feel my cheeks burn under the weight and heat of that stare. But before I can talk myself out of it…I grasp the sheets in my hands- allowing the ink of my skin to ripple and flow outwards.

“Show me myself from four nights ago, around 10pm or so…” I murmur as the ink springs from my fingers. There’s a small buzz of surprised-sounding static as Alastor watches in rapt fascination.

The ink floats, rippling outward and expanding. The pigmented liquid winds and twists in on itself just above the sheets, until it has spun itself into the familiar shape of my own silhouette. 

I step back and to the side, allowing Alastor a full view of the inked echo of myself from a few nights prior…naked and sprawled out on the mattress before him. Alastor sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

The inked echo of myself has her eye, my eye, trained on the space where Alastor pulled that smaller painting from. I watch Alastor as he watches the inked imitation of me squirm before him.

The mirrored image of myself has one hand on a peaked nipple and the other hand between her thighs, my thighs… lips parted in a moan of pleasure.

Alastor’s gaze is downright gluttonous as he takes in the sight of the inked echo before him. His hands start to reach instinctively towards the past iteration of myself before he stops himself and pivots to face the me that is standing beside him. His eyes dart back and forth between me and the inky clone on the bed.

“How…?” He asks, his eyes meeting mine. His gaze is a sharp, assessing, and ravenous thing that pierces through any defense I might have had.

“It’s a …memory. My ink can lift a memory from any object a sinner has touched and recreate what took place there recently. It can track the souls that have touched the object, show me what was said…and done…” I glance to the inked outline of myself on the bed, Alastor’s name a garbled whimper emanating from her lips, my lips… I swallow hard.

“I… I call them echoes…” I murmur, my eye briefly drifting to the still-writhing echo of myself on the bed.

My face burns as my fingers twitch towards the inky reflection on the bed, tempted to reabsorb the revealing recollection. This ability was meant to help me find Alastor when I first arrived…and I doubt this is what Lucifer had in mind when he gave me this power! 

“It’s just …well, you said to show you, so I thought that this would be…but it’s a bit more… graphic than I anticipated. And I don’t usually use it to recreate myself…I can just get rid-” I stammer as I reach to reabsorb the ink.

Alastor’s hand catches my wrist before I can make contact.

“Don’t you dare…” his voice is a static-laced growl as he pulls me flush against his chest. His eyes skim my face and then dart back to the echo behind me. His grin widens into something almost predatory as he stares down at me.

“I asked you to show me, and you have…and so beautifully too, Ma Cher…” he whispers, leaning in to press his lips to mine. 

There’s barely time to register that sensation, though, before Alastor quickly spins me in his arms. 

I let out a small yelp of surprise as he twists my body so that my back is now pressed against his chest. I bite my lip as I feel the straining bulge pressed against my lower back as well. 

Alastor’s claw-tipped fingers lift my chin, forcing my gaze to the still writhing echo of myself on the bed. 

“If that’s how your painting of me made you feel…who knows what my touch might draw out of you…” he croons, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as his hands slide down my frame.

One arm wraps around my chest, holding me in place against him, while the other reaches for the hem of my dress. A ripple of pleasure runs through my frame as his probing fingers begin to skate up the expanse of my thighs.

“Alastor…” I whimper and he chuckles at my ear before shushing me.

“Hush, Love, it’s not everyday I have such a beautiful visual aid to demonstrate exactly how you like to be touched…” He purrs as his hand at my chest slips beneath the neckline of my dress. 

His fingers effortlessly navigate the lacy underthings he conjured for me until finding my nipple and pinching- just as the inky echo of me is before us. I bite my lower lip to keep from moaning.

Though, my strained silence doesn’t last long as his other hand reaches between the apex of my thighs. Alastor hisses against my ear as his fingers shift my panties out of the way to run his index finger along my already slippery slit. He clicks his tongue.

“Now, how is it you went about this on your own, hmmm?” He teases, lifting his chin to watch the inky echo a moment before humming softly with understanding.

“Ahh, I see. One finger here-” he says sweetly as he slides one finger inside me and I gasp in time with the echo on the bed. 

“-And a thumb here…doing small circles like so…” he croons as his thumb moves to tease the small bundle of nerves above my entrance- the pad of his thumb mimicking the movements of my own from a few nights prior. 

I shudder, slumping back against his chest as my knees begin to wobble.

“A-Alastor…!” I whine as pleasure floods my senses and my legs shake. His lips are on my neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive skin. I feel his smile and his breath on my skin as he hums.

“Yes, my Dear?” He asks teasingly, as he continues to watch the echo- adding another finger just as I did. A moan breaks free of my lips at the fullness of it as his fingers curl deep inside me.

My breathing quickens. I can feel my body warming under his every touch, his every movement. Pleasure builds in my core and as the muscles in my abdomen grow taught, the muscles in my legs threaten to give way. 

“I…I don’t think I c-can k-keep standing…while you’re doing that…” I manage to stammer as my body leans heavily back against his. The firm length of him pressing even harder into my lower back as I do so. 

Alastor pulls back ever so slightly to assess my shaking frame and looks back to my double before his smile widens in wicked glee. 

“Perhaps you just need to spread your legs wider, Dearest…like you did before…” he teases as one of his hoof-like feet slips between my ankles, knocking one to the side as he forces my legs into a wider stance.

I’m confident the shift in position might have knocked me over, if not for his two fingers buried deep inside me. As he kicks my legs open wider, his two fingers plunge even deeper as I sink further onto his hand. 

The motion also has me slipping further down his chest, causing his twitching shaft to press along my spine. 

The combination of my own arousal and feeling his, has a whimpering noise of utter pleasure ripping from my throat as his fingers press against that most sensitive spot deep inside me with even more pressure. Quite literally about to come undone in the palm of his hand. 

Alastor’s voice is a low staticky growl, and I can feel his own arousal stiffen at my back as he speaks.

“Although, I suppose that past version of you didn’t have me…” he purrs as he slips the hand from my breast down to my left thigh. 

His grip is tight, digging into the the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he expertly wraps his hand down and around my leg before lifting me off the ground entirely. 

I let out another shuddering moan as the motion, once again, sends his fingers even deeper inside me. The noise spurs Alastor’s fingers into a slightly faster pace, pumping in and out over and over again- making a deliciously filthy wet noise as my own arousal coats his fingers.

I squirm in his grip as he holds me aloft with one hand while bringing me closer and closer to the brink with the other. I can feel the throbbing, thick, length of him pressed firmly against my backside now. 

So close to where I want him with just a few inches and a pair of pants in the way…I wiggle my hips, trying to grind against him. Alastor sucks in a breath through his teeth as he catches my intention. 

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He growls, withdrawing his fingers from inside me and lifting them to his own lips as he licks the taste of me off them. 

I pout  -as much as I can pout while panting- as I squirm in his grip again. Twisting my neck until I can meet his burning gaze with a sidelong glance.

Alastor grins at my efforts, taking his still slick fingers and grabbing my chin- still holding me firmly in place with his other hand at my thigh- his knee slightly bent to support my weight.

“What is it my Dove? I’ve touched you exactly how you like, haven’t I?” He asks in a teasing tone, taking my chin and forcing my gaze back to the writhing version of me on the bed. 

I bite my lip and groan.

“Y-yes… but I only settled for m-my fingers back then because I didn’t have you…” I murmur, dropping a hand to trail along the underside of his shaft from base to tip over his pants. Alastor’s jaw clenches at the touch.

“Is that so?” He whispers in a staticky purr, his hand dropping from my chin to his own waist- freeing his throbbing shaft from his pants with a few quick movements. I groan as I feel the tip of him pressed against my entrance- teasingly close without entering me.

“And now that you have me? What would you settle for?” He growls, twisting til we’re both facing a mirror in the corner of the room. 

It’s a lewd, evocative, and downright sinful picture he’s painted…

My inky skin is flushed a pinkish purple hue along my cheeks, neck, and chest. Both our chests are heaving with heavy breaths. Alastor has the hem of my dress hiked up to reveal where he’s pushed my panties to the side where… 

I am literally dripping for him. Liquid arousal has the space between my legs slick. My inner thighs shine with the same slippery essence. So does the tip of Alastor’s impressive length as he holds it positioned just below me. 

The muscles of his hands are tense and taught as he holds me in place- his claw-tipped fingers digging into my skin. And the look on his face as he regards our reflections…it’s some intoxicating mix of hunger, desire, and pride as he takes in the image of our overlapping bodies.

I squirm and watch as his hand on my thigh tightens in response. He lets out a low gravely chuckle as he drags the tip of himself along my aching sex. 

My hips buck forward in response, but Alastor holds fast- tutting softly.

“Is this what you were fantasizing about while looking at that picture, Mon Coeur? All twisted up in those silken sheets of yours thinking of me taking you like this?” He asks in a voice that sounds like honey.

He drags the tip of himself over that sensitive bundle of nerves again and I whimper, nodding- my head too fogged by pleasure to come up with words. Alastor sighs, the sound coming from so deep in his chest that I can feel it rumble at my back- like an approaching storm.

“A part of me wants to keep you like this…balancing on this beautiful edge and watching you squirm…listening to those beautiful noises your throat and body make…” he admits, his eyes shining with a glint of danger that lets me know he means it. 

“Luckily for you, there’s a much larger part of me that wants you to have exactly what you want.” He says with a wicked grin before sliding the entire length of himself inside me all at once on the word ‘exactly’. 

I inhale sharply at the sensation of being so utterly and completely filled by him all at once.

Not just the sensation either, but seeing it in the mirror. The way he disappears inside me with the slightest shift of his hips.

Seeing the wicked grin of delight and pleasure that crosses his face as he slips inside me. 

Hearing that filthy, wet, slippery sound of our bodies moving in time as he begins to thrust up into me.

I try to twist to kiss him, but his voice holds me in place.

“Watch, Mon Coeur. You got to show me what it is you like. Let me show you the same…” he growls as both his hands wrap around my thighs. 

His hands are so massive in this form- it looks like it barely takes him any effort to lift my body up before pulling me all the way back down the length of his shaft. A strangled cry bursts from my lips and Alastor hums in pleasure.

His lips are on my neck again, biting and sucking and kissing as he whispers against my skin. 

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve longed for you? How many nights I spent twisted in my own sheets craving exactly this? Needing you like this…? How perfectly precious it feels to take you like this again after all this time?” 

His words begin as a whisper but begin to crescendo as his thrusts pick up speed. I can feel my own release ripping and roaring through my body and blood…but I can feel his too, following close behind my own.

I bite down on my lip in an effort to hold off the waves of pleasure that threaten to overtake me before he’s ready. Alastor’s eyes snap to my lips and his smile is feral.

“Say it, Ma Cher, say whatever it is you're holding back …or I will pull it from those perfect lips of yours…” he growls, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror.

My eye widens and my mouth pops open as I manage to pant,

“I…I …j-just want it to all…come at once…together…” I whimper, wondering if the words I’ve managed to string together are even comprehensible.

Alastor’s answering smirk implies he understands well enough as he nods. His face turning towards my cheek as he leans in, dragging his nose along my neck as he breathes.

“How…considerate of you, My Dove…” he says with a groan of pleasure that lets me know he’s as close as I am now.

“Please, Alastor…” I plead through a moan, though, at this point I don’t know what I’m pleading for, exactly. He groans as his hips pick up pace once more.

“Ma Cher… you know I can’t deny you a thing when you call my name like that…” he says in a strained voice as his teeth sink into my shoulder- eliciting a small cry of pleasure from me. 

Alastor pulls back to grin at the sound. His hips are still slamming up into me at an increasingly fast pace. The intensity of the sensation has my voice wobbling even as I moan. Likely because his movements seem to physically jostle my whole body with every thrust.

“What’s that you said? About…together?” Alastor purrs in my ear as he drops a hand to trace the bundle of nerves between my thighs as his thrusts start to stutter. 

All I can manage is another moan of pleasure and a nod as my body begins to spasm around his shaft as his hips slam up into mine in a final perfect thrust. 

My body shudders and shakes as I feel him twitch, buried deep inside me, painting my insides. 

“Alastor…” I whimper in a hoarse whisper as the wave of pleasure passes through me.

“Mon Coeur…” he says in a raspy, staticky, satisfied-sounding hum. 

Our movements slow as our bodies grow still against one another, bathing in the afterglow of such an intense and sudden pleasure. Alastor smirks at our reflection.

“Of all the works of art in this room…I think this particular portrait might be my favorite…” he teases as he slowly, teasingly withdraws himself from inside me.

A small gasp of lingering pleasure escapes me as he does. Watching him exit me, as I feel it take place, sends a shiver of satisfaction along my spine. So does the sticky trail he leaves behind…

He holds me aloft a moment longer just staring at the reflection of the aftermath of our antics before grinning again. He takes a hand and gingerly tugs my panties back into place. Then he drops the hem of my dress, smoothing the skirts of it over my thighs…his hands lingering as his gaze meets mine in the mirror with some residual heat.

Finally, he sets me down in front of him, quickly fastening his pants once more until we look relatively presentable…with the exception of our flushed faces. 

Alastor leans in, wrapping his arms around me as he places a kiss on the top of my head before smirking up at our reflection once more.

“Do you think you might try to paint this moment as well, My Dear?” He asks teasingly and I flush.

“I can think of several moments from the last few days that I'd like to paint actually…” I say, offering him a small grin and sighing contentedly as I turn to meet his gaze properly. 

A distorted twin of my contented sigh resonates from the echo on the bed and my face flushes anew. I quickly step from my husband’s embrace and towards the bed. Touching my fingertips to the similarly pleased-looking imitation of myself, I reabsorb the ink depicting the memory back into my skin. 

Alastor chuckles behind me as I do so. Conjuring his staff to lean on, he looks me up and down slowly with a mischievous expression before asking,

“Am I to understand then, that you can recreate any memory from anything a Sinner has touched, My Dove?” He asks, his eyes shining with curiosity and anticipation. I raise a wary brow.

“Something like that, but it has to be at least somewhat recently that the Sinner has interacted with the object…and if more than a few Sinners have touched the object recently, it can be…taxing to sort through the memories to find the one I’m looking for…” I explain, my lips twisting to the side in half a frown as I recall how finicky this particular ability of mine can be.

Alastor’s brows rise at the word ‘taxing’, the space between his brows crinkling with concern.

“‘Taxing’, in what way?” He asks, keeping his voice calm and even…but that stubborn line of worry still mars his brow. I wince as I realize I’ve given him yet another thing to worry over. I shrug my shoulders slightly as I avoid his pointed stare.

“It’s…I just get rather tired if I try to sift through the memories of an object for too long… and it takes a bit more focus to hold onto an older memory and watch it play out…” I murmur…omitting the several occasions I fell unconscious for days trying to pull old memories of him from his old abandoned radio tower…years after he’d vacated it.

It’s as if Alastor can hear the words I’ve withheld without my having to say it aloud. He steps close and lifts his fingers to my chin, angling my face towards his.

He doesn’t say anything as he scans my face. Rather, it’s as if he’s once again checking me for signs of injury or distress. His smile thins slightly, apparently finding something less than ideal in my expression.

“Did retrieving this memory from 4 days ago cause you any of that… fatigue…?” He asks carefully and I shake my head, placing a reassuring hand to his chest.

“No, Alastor, I’m alright! Anything within a week barely takes any effort to retrieve…and you saw how quickly I …lost focus just now, and it still persisted!” I say, trying to erase that worry I seem to keep tainting him with…

He forces his smile a little wider and nods thoughtfully, but that stubborn line of worry remains as he speaks.

“And are there any other… hidden talents you feel like sharing, Darling?” He asks, keeping his voice light and teasing, but I can tell he’s still concerned… I wrap my arms around him, placing a kiss to his chest before peering up at him.

“Well, I don’t know how much talent I possess… but we did come here for my instruments, do you want to see the music room?” I ask, keeping my own voice light and teasing as well. 

I tell myself it’s because I can’t stand seeing him worry over me so much, that I’m changing the subject for his own sake…

Yet, as we move from the bedroom and down the hall…I can’t help but feel I’ve run away from his question. 

Can’t help but feel Lucifer Morningstar’s power simmer in my veins beneath my inky skin…

I’ll tell him later.

We’ve only just begun to reconnect.

I don’t want to worry him more than I already have.

I don’t want him to blame himself.

I don’t want him to blame me…

I push the thoughts that feel like sins from my mind. Focusing instead on the feeling of my husband’s hand in mine as I pull him down the hall towards a room full of music…and away from the room full of memories.

Edit: Simply have to add another one of @sinmelae028 beautiful creations from this chapter!!! Thank you again for sending these! They never fail to brighten my whole day and I mean just LOOK AT HIM 👀 I’m obsessed

Edit part 2: @sinmelae028 you’re SPOILING me with these!!! He is literally GLOWING! And truly so honored everytime my silly little scribbles inspire you to create such beautiful fan art!

Here’s a link to the fic in question if you’re curious btw! It’s an Alastor x fem reader and lowkey my pride and joy