#blissy writes

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

Most of the others had joined the music and drinking below, Astarion was down there the last you checked, getting into some kind of heated debate with Wyll and Gale about who could flip a coin better. Sometimes those three could be so…

You shook the thought away as Astarion crawled over the back of the couch and smoothly sat down beside you, “Well I came looking for you of course,” He gave a wave of his hand then a side look, “You don’t normally hide away reading,”

There was a soft laugh from you and a half shrug, “We’ve been here for weeks now. There is only so much fun a drunken tavern can provide, and spending every night down there isn’t my cup of tea,”

“Hm, you’re no fun. What’s another night of drunken debauchery?” Astarion teased with a nudge of his shoulder into yours, but you gave a little shake of your head and he got his answer, “Fine, fine~” He sang out then threw his arms behind his head as he stretched, “One boring night, coming right up,”

You knew he was only teasing and meant nothing by it. Seeing as the flicker of amusement in the corner of his eye told you he would rather be up here with you anyways.

Without a second thought or a slight of hesitation, Astarion made himself comfortable. He laid down with his head in your lap, you letting out a little giggle as he shoved your hands out of the way to make room for himself. His feet dangled off the arm of the couch and he shuffled a bit as he kicked off his boots.

“So, tell me about this book you're reading, my love. I’ve seen your nose in it since we left that book shop,” Almost as if by instinct, your fingers started combing through his white curls, “It must be a terribly lascivious fantasy, no?”

You could hear the little giggle bubbling behind his words as he spoke as well. How many times has he mentioned the book now and you’ve just ignored him? “It’s not that kind of book,” You didn’t stop playing with his hair, but you did look away with a faint blush. If he was going to be persistent about it then you had little choice to put up a fight.

He started to reach over toward the book tucked beside you but you slapped his hand repeatedly, “It’s not that kind of book,” You huffed then grabbed it for yourself. Just to prove your point you leafed through the pages then stopped on a specific one.

To say it wasn’t just any kind of book would be an understatement. You held the book open and showed Astarion. On the page was a simple diagram. Well… perhaps not simple.

The vampire spawn tilted his head a little, not exactly sure what he was looking at. Slowly he lifted his hands up and held the book open himself, “That pain priest really did a number on you back then, huh?”

“In a way, yes. But… Not exactly,” You said, while gazing at the page as well. It was hand drawn by someone tied up, very tied up, and very restrained, hanging from bounds of ropes off a ceiling. You flipped to an earlier page, one that shows exactly what knots where needed to achieve such a complex picture.

You then flipped a few pages back, “You did too,” You were hesitant to say those words, but there was no reason to lie. Nothing good came from it so why hide. You stopped on a different picture with a person fully in the nude but covered head to toe in painted on words. Then to another page that required both you an Astarion to nearly tilt your heads in a 90 degree angle to get a better look at whatever it was you were seeing.

A moment of silence passed and Astarion narrowed his gaze softly with a raised brow and looked up at you, “What is this book?” He closed it and looked at the cover, no title, then the spine, nothing. He went to the first page and only found a table of contents.

You gentle took it from his grasp and started fingering through it, to somewhere in the middle where the title was hidden, “Peculiar Pleasures,”

Astarion sat up fully, his head no longer in your lap as he straightened out beside you, “What did you mean, when you said you did too?” There was a slow growth of worry on his face, like he was about to be in trouble.

But you have a quick wave of your hand to dispel such worries, “Nothing bad,” You softly smiled and placed a gentle hand on his, he quickly took it but still had a silent question in his face waiting for you to explain, “I…” You started, not exactly sure where to start, “… I Was looking through the books at the shop, just wandering about. I saw this book, and it reminded me of you. And what you said about this kind of stuff feeling… Tainted?”

He didn’t say much but he did raise a brow and held an open hand out with a curl of his fingers. You passed the book to him and watched as those same fingers flipped pages with care and curiosity.

Still a little frazzled, you felt your shoulders tense up and rise to your neck while letting out a nervous laugh, “I just thought it was interesting…” You started to ring your fingers together with that same empty laugh, “And maybe this book could, I don’t know… It’s sex without sex!” You blurted out louder and than you expected then got yourself all sorts of frazzled, “Like… ya know… that kind of stuff. I just thought-”

“You thought it could help,” His voice was cool like ice and just as slick, “That’s very sweet of you,” You finally looked at him to see a smile in the corner of his lips. He leaned into the distance between you two and placed a kiss on your cheek, “I’d like to keep this for awhile, if you don’t mind,”

“You actually want to read it?” The surprise in your voice was hard to hide, why wouldn’t you be? You gave him an odd look full of questions regardless.

He gave you another side look, one more playful as he turned to full face you with a tip of his head slightly to the side. Your noses barely touched as he smirked, “I’m just reading it, love, we aren’t doing anything,” It was cruel of him to flirt like this, and to give such a teasing tone.

It made the tips of your ears burn and your cheeks match, “I know!” You huffed and turned away sharply, “I mean- well. Good.” You smoothed out your shirt as some form of distraction or action to seem casual, “I’m glad you like it then,”

A soft laugh escaped his lips and you felt a smile tug at your lips. Soon the giggles came from you both. Astarion raised an arm, inviting you in by his side and you quickly took the offer, snuggling up and resting against his chest, “How far have you gotten? I shouldn’t have that much to catch up on,” With how fast he reads? It’d only take him a few hours you guessed.

Astarion opened the book again once you had both gotten comfortable on the couch. With a shrug you told him, “I’m not that far, maybe a few chapters?”

“Wonderful,” His grin was cheeky, “Means you don’t have much rereading to do,”

A curious brow was raised on your face, “Oh?”

He snuggled himself closer and began flipping to the first few pages, “Of course, everything I could want is right here,” His voice was laced like honey, sickeningly sweet, “Why would I bother leaving?” He teased, “A beautiful paramour by my side, a saucy book for the ages, and the rest of the night to ourselves,” A stray hand of his began combing through your hair, all the while he focused on skimming pages with ease. It was rather perfect.

You let out a little hum, “You have a point,” The curl of his fingers through your hair was enlightening yet calming. It was like a call of tranquility. Another hum as your eyes fluttered shut, “Wake me when you get to chapter 4? Around page… I don’t know, half way through,” To hells with him if he thought you’d reread the damn chapters a second time.

“Mhm,” Was his simply and soft reply, then followed but the subtle turn of a page. He never stopped twirling curls of your hair between his fingers, something of a rhythmic pattern that was predictable and pleasant.

Sometimes you’d get pulled from the lull when he’d pause, his hand stopped and a strange chuckle could be heard escaping his chest. Even peaking an eye open you could already tell what he was reading. You saw a silly but errotic picture from before, someone clad with no clothes being tickled by countless feathers and… other peculiar things. You laughed at that one too.

Or a few pages later there would be an image of someone experimenting with entire blocks of ice and nothing else, or toying with magic in stranger ways than normal. Even a few pages were dedicated to the art of chanting and just calling out sounds and how to seek orgasmic pleasure from just screaming. Though you couldn’t deny, some things in the pages seemed entirely thrilling. It was indeed a book of peculiar pleasures.

So the half chuckles and chortles from Astarion every so often put a smile on your face. Though you still drifted in and out of a half sleep, despite the ruckus downstairs still raging on. After some time with a vampire you grew to love the coolness that always radiated from Astarion, like a freezer, he was naturally chilled and cool to the touch.

After a while however you felt a little jostle on your shoulder. Then more of a shake. Your eyes shot open and for a split second you were expecting a surprise attack. It was just your beloved vampire, though, seeing as you nearly forgot with your little power nap, “Star-bite..?” You yawned the nickname and rubbed some sleep out of your eyes.

You eyes flickered to the book beside you, still in his hands, you noticed he was nearly to where you left off, he only had a couple pages left to catch up though.

“This one,” Astarion’s voice surprised you, causing you to snap your head towards him. You caught a look of what could only be described as determination. He fully turned the book to you and pointed his finger to the page with an image you had already seen.

There was a drawing of a woman painting on herself. She was, keep in mind, nude, but her body was covered in runes and words alone. They covered her from head to toe. Your eyes traveled to the paragraph below, you still remember what it said.

Pleasure can come in many forms, this one being the pleasure of touch and grace while healing, and exploring the mind and body so intimately that nothing but a brush stroke is needed. This practice is known as The Painter. Its purpose is to form bonds either with yourself or with that who holds the brush. There are many things such a skill can be useful for. In time one can grow more fond of this technique and with practice. A brush stroke can be equal to that of a hand caressing along the inner thigh and bring pleasure beyond what a touch could ever do. Paint into you what you’ve always wanted to hear, or secrets you can’t keep any longer. You could even scribe poems, or runes, whatever means most to you.

“I want to try this one,” Astarion’s voice caused your mind and eyes to drag up to him.

You felt a rush of blood run to your cheeks as you forced an awkward laugh, “R-right now?” He couldn’t be serious. Your eyes flickered around the room, wondering if anyone had come up from the tavern yet.

Astarion only answered you with a quick and sharp nod of his head. Well then…

You blinked a few times, still somewhat surprised by his forwardness, “O-okay,” Then you said it again with more confidence, “Okay!” You shot up from the couch and looked around then made your way to the door, Astarion was close to follow behind you. He did manage to grab an ink well and a brush, however, as you managed to slip away to the solo suite down the hall. He had not forgotten the book either.

“So, what do you want painted on you?” You closed the door as he followed in, then turned and watched as he kept his nose in the book and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without lifting his head, he raised only his ruby eyes and gave you a staunt look, “I was thinking a poem,” That was rather interesting, or so you thought. A little fitting even.

But you still had to ask, “Are you sure? I mean,” You made your way over to him, sitting side by side while taking the ink well and brush that we’re still tucked under his arm, “I only ask because it wasn’t that long ago we thought it was just a poem on your back,”

“I’m sure,” He closed the book with a swift snap as the pages shut together, “Besides,” He leaned a little closer to you with a smirk, “I get to choose what it says this time,”

A soft single giggle of a laugh escaped you. You then clicked your tongue with a little shake of your head, “Alright, where do you want to start?”

You watched as he proceeded to think, mule over what he wanted and what he didn’t want. Which was still a foreign concept to him that he hadn’t quite yet settled into. Eventually and with caution he said, “Let’s just start with my arm. I don’t think I’ve got enough words to cover me… Nor do I think I want to,” He gave a small and nervous, boyish chuckle at the end.

“Okay,” You nodded with a smile and waited as Astarion shed a few layers, then undone his shirt and exposed only his torso. You had nearly forgotten how beautiful he was, but only soaked in the view for a moment before giggling giddy with bubbles, “You talk, I write,” You hummed and dipped the tip of the brush into the ink, tapped away the loose drops, then hovered it over his one of his shoulders, waiting with anticipation.

His breathing slowed, and Astarion thought. He even closed his eyes trying to envision the words appearing on his own skin. Soft, but not a whisper, his voice traveled deep from his lungs. A strange sounding roughness filled his words.

“I have been one acquainted with the night.”

Slowly with each word, you carefully wrote every letter with deliberate delicacy, as if you were painting on the world’s thinnest canvas, ready to break under the smallest weight.

“I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.”

His voice carried a world hidden within it, one that you could only ever catch a glimpse of in moments like these. Each faint brush stroke along his skin sent small and welcomed shivers from each place the hairs prickled his skin. Astarion even had to take long moments between each entry, to give you time to scrawl down his tainted words.

It was incredibly intimate, much to his surprise. Especially when he’d turn his head just enough to see you, and see your hard stare more focused on the brush strokes of each word than staring back at him. He couldn’t explain it, but having your attention still be on him, but not actually looking at him…. His chest felt light and his blood began to pick up speed. Your focus filled eyes would only glance back up at him when you were ready for the next verse. It was enough to make his breath hitch, for the candle light to reflect stars in his eyes and turn his head away once again.

“I have passed by the watchman on his beat, and dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped to the sound of feet… When far away an interrupted cry came over houses from another street,”

You carefully worked down his arm, making your way to his wrist, to gently clasp it with your free hand and turn his arm over, palm facing up. There wasn’t a moment of lapse or pause as you continued on working your way up the other side of his unpainted arm. For you this was just as intimate. You could see the shift in his chest, the way his breathing would quicken and slow again depending on where the brush stoked along his skin. In all fairness, it was a learning experience, but still one that made your cheeks burn. Especially when you could feel him staring.

You were keen not to look back at him, or away from writing down his words. As much as you wanted to steal a glimpse, to see the half lidded look on his face, the glaze over of his eyes and the way his lips parted with each intentional word when he was speaking… As for now, all the two of you could hear was each other's shallow breathing, then of course Asterion's little quick in tack of air as you finished the verse and looked up at him waiting patiently.

“But not to call me back… or say good-bye… And further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right….” He paused, and waited, and even more still once you caught up. He said nothing for a moment, nothing at all. But soon he sighed out his next and final words as if they were more personal to him, as they were becoming words of affirmation rather than confirmation, “I have been one acquainted with the night,”

He didn’t move, and neither did you. You couldn’t place your finger on it, but you watched him slowly flutter his eyes close and take in a few low breaths. The ink on his skin had started to dry and you carefully traced your fingers over the black words once more. There wasn’t any tension between you two, rather, a longing.

You’re voice came as a subtle surprise to him, just to hear it that is, “I have become one acquainted with the night,” You echoed, still tracing the words along his arm, “It’s a beautiful poem,” You leaned closer and place a light and loving kiss on his shoulder, “And a little sad,”

Hearing so made a bittersweet smile curl onto Astarion lips and he breathed out a soft and low hum of a laugh, the kind that came from his nose as he sighed along with it. He tipped his head towards yours, a loving nudge as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, “It is sad, but true,”

“Hmm,” You smiled a little more as he placed a kiss on your forehead. You fell into each other, into a loose embrace by simply enjoying the closeness. You still traced your fingers lightly along his painted arm, then softly gave a loose chuckle, “You know this doesn’t look to bad,” You gentle lifted his arm, in the process you hooked your arm around his and locked yourself at the elbow while slipping your hand into his, “I bet you’d be able to pull of tattoos if you wanted,” A banter was in your voice, light and airy.

A quick laugh came from him, and he raised an eyebrow at you, “You think so?” His giggle was laced into his words, he peered down along his arm and took a moment to imagine the words being replaced with more permanent art, “Is that your way of saying you’d like me more with ink?” The tease in his voice was harmless and playful.

With a dramatic, “Noo!” You nudged your shoulder into his, swaying a little together as you each laughed, “Only if you wanted to, of course. I like you just as you are,” Though you wouldn’t mind at all… the back of your mind flashed you images of Astarion honestly covered with tattoos.. hmph.

Astarion placed a little kiss along the side of your temple to ease his teasing and said, “Honestly I’ve never considered them before. The idea of a needle poking me for hours on end sounds like torture… Though…” He looked back down at his arm, gave it a little twist and a full view as he admired the words, “You are right, I do look pretty good,” He smirked with sharp teeth.

You burst into a fit of giggles and nodded your head along with him, “You really do,” You gestured back to the brush and ink well beside you, “I can do more if you like?”

His eyes flickered to follow your hand then he gave a little shake of his head, “This is a good start, for now,” He reached over and took your hand in his, bringing the back of it to his lips and placing a tender kiss against your skin, “Thank you. For doing this, I mean,” Then he gave a cheeky little shrug and a slight harmless roll of his eyes, “And maybe for getting the book too… I… I think I needed this,”

You weren't even watching which way you went because you had no idea where you were. You made it to an intersection in the street and you rounded the corner quickly, not paying attention. Your eyes saw something move just as quickly out of the way, then you felt your foot trip before you stumbled to the ground. Your hands broke the fall while a snicker filled your ears.

When you turned around you came face to face with someone who finally noticed you, looked you in the eye, and gave a smile that felt all too menacing than anything else. He tipped his head slightly, red hair falling slightly to match red eyes. He was talking, but for whatever reason, you didn't seem to hear him because you were frozen in fear.

You blinked a few times, shaken. Then he held a hand out to you which snapped you out of your frozen state.

"Are you going to say something?" His voice didn't sound right. You blinked a couple more times then swallowed hard, "Do you have a name, or can you not speak?" Is that what he said earlier? He was still holding his hand out to you, was he offering to help you up.

"I-I can speak," You stuttered out and refused whatever he was offered by that extended hand. You got to your feet quickly.

He pulled his hand away while keeping that smile ever-present on his face. He tucked it behind his back, just like the other one, "You must be new here," He smiled, "Did you just fall?"

Fall? You looked up at the sky and felt a memory flicker between your temples, causing a minor headache, "I... I guess I did, y-yeah" You said while looking around.

"Well, I guess I get to be the lucky one who welcomes you to Hell! If you didn't know already by now," His laugh was sinister and twisted with a filter that matched a radio.

You were in Hell? Somehow that felt... corrected. You died? Must be. It was the truth that felt heavy and it was almost a little crushing. But you couldn't remember how, or who you were before you got... here, "If this is Hell, why are you being so nice to me?" It was always good to never trust strangers, or so you assumed someone told you in the past. Regardless it was still a good moral to live by.

His smile only grew a little larger, "I'm just a nice person," That sounded like a lie because his eyes seemed to hold darkness you didn't want to understand.

Something told you that you should run again, but something else told you... he might follow. You took a step back and you watched his ear twitch slightly, "I-I'm sure you are," You took another step back, "But I really need to get going..."

Then he took a step forward and you felt your heart race, "Do you think you can survive a moment alone out there?" He pointed behind you, and you looked over your shoulder and finally took it all in. This was Hell, and there seemed to be chaos everywhere in the form of an urban jungle, a city under a pentagram in the sky, "You just fell, you don't seem to know your own name, sounds like amnesia to me. So where do you plan on going?"

You snapped your gaze back to him. You didn't even know your own name... Suddenly you felt like prey and you didn't feel so safe under his gaze. His words felt threatening. Why did he choose you? Out of all these people walking by? He could have just ignored you like the rest of them. But no, you stumbled and he offered to help you up. And you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Why do you care?" You finally asked him. You took another step back, a bigger one this time. He took another step forward.

"I don't care," He said it frankly, "But I'm bored, and I can be nice when I want to be. My name is Alastor. See? We aren't as much of strangers now." He said with a smile. Okay... So you knew is name. So what? You didn't even know your own and he still didn't do anything to appear nice at all, "I know just the place where you can go," Alastor raised a brow while never taking his gaze off you.

You couldn't help but laugh out of pure nervousness, "Y-yeah?" Should you start running? Probably.

Alastor let out a loud laugh, he even wiped away a fake tear, "Oh, stop shaking like a leaf, I'm not going to kill you!" He laughed some more then shook his head as he calmed himself with a more loose smile, "I said I was being nice, and I intend to keep my word," He swayed a little on his feet then took a few short steps to stand in front of you, "Come along, dear, there is a princess here that would love to meet someone as pathetic and as lost as yourself. She loves to find broken things and fix them. And you're very lucky to have stumbled across someone like me who happens to know her! You're even luckier I'm in a good mood, otherwise, I might have actually killed you, hmhm~" His chuckle was light but held a sinister tone.

It was uncomfortable for you to remember anything about him. You had only been to his house once, after knowing him for about two months. The second you were in there... something wasn't right. Sure it was spotless, clean... But Alastor also didn't know that you were an undercover detective. You didn't tell anyone about your job under any circumstances. The only people that knew were your family.

There was familiar... unsettling sent to his home. Decomposition. Rotting Flesh. It was faint, but as he led you from the front room, towards the kitchen, you passed a door and the smell was slightly stronger There was no mistaking it. In your line of work? You could never forget the awful smell of the first victim you ever found... You didn't say anything, you didn't even let him know about it. You believed he had gone nose blind to faint smell coming from his basement, seeing as he lived there. The next day you told him your lie to get away.

Since then, you had been watching him from afar, doing your best to stay in the shadows. You had to gather intelligence, you had to find leads. You knew he was hiding something in his home... But you couldn't just break in. You worked within the law, you couldn't just disobey whenever you felt like it. But over the past few weeks, you had learned a lot about this man. You figured you knew just about everything one could know. You kept a detailed profile of every action you witnessed, and notes from every document you could find.

Eventually came the day when you "came back" from your "family visit." You came up with an excuse to call Alastor, you asked if you could see him, you told him your father hadn't passed, but you were worried about leaving him. But he turned you down, said he was busy. He came up with a list of excuses but seemed so cheerful and happy as if this was a very subtle, passive-aggressive... I Know. You apologized for bothering and hung up the phone. Surprisingly though, a few days later Alastor did call you back and asked if it was possible to meet somewhere public.

He wanted to meet up at a cafe, with lots of people and plenty of noise. You found him around 1:00pm on the dot, sitting in a secluded corner reading a book. You made sure to notice the title The Big Sheep. A classic American murder mystery novel, you've read it many times yourself. When you sat down he closed the book and put it away, an ever pleasant smile. He put his hands together, interlocking his fingers, and he sat forward saying, "It's good to see you again, detective (L/n)."

You gulped down a draw swallow and did your best to play off his threat, "So you've been nosing around in my business?" Was the best thing you could come up with. He laughed, cold and hard, then shrugged a little, "No," He said, "You've been digging around in mine."

There was a moment there when you opened your mouth to object, but you knew this was a game of cat and mouse at this point. Alastor was quick to go on speaking, "You've done quite a bit of homework, and you wouldn't think I'd notice?" He didn't give you time to reply, "I assure you, dear, that I've been up to nothing but good things. You may have this little... investigation you've been conducting on me, lying to me, going behind my back, and following me around the city. But you haven't a single clue, do you?"

You knew you couldn't lie to him, and your cover was blown. But how? You were so sure to stay in the shadows, to stay unseen. The only thing you could think of is someone tipped him off. You pressed our lips then and chose to speak quietly, "I'd be very careful with your words," You threatened him, "Because what would I need a clue for, Alastor, if you've been doing nothing but good?" You leaned back in your chair and slowly crossed your arms.

You watched the slow but subtle changes in his expression, his eyes only grew slightly in size while the same happened to his smile, "That's right," He said careful, but you quickly cut him off.

You shot forward in your seat and pointed a finger at him, "Why would I be investigating you, Alastor? What on earth could be my reason for doing that? You tell me, you seem to know everything," You sat back once again and waved your hand quickly, "You were smart enough to figure out I'm a detective. So why would I be investigating you, come on, whaddya got? I'm just supposed to be your friend right? Or am I not?"

Your badgering questions made him uneasy and you could see that. It was like laying down the soft subtle pressure of the law between each word. You could see Alastor begin to process that maybe this wasn't the best idea, but he knew he couldn't lose control. He sat back in his seat, "Look," he said, "You know, I know. I know that you know. I also know you that whatever you think you're looking for? It's not what you think it is."

At that moment you knew you had your chance, "Then let's go to your house. Show me your basement and prove me wrong." You crossed your arms, daring him to do exactly what you said.

But Alastor chuckled, "You know I can't do that," He smiled at you. It seems like this meeting of his hadn't gone the way he planned at all. He got up from his chair pulled something out of a brief case he had sitting on the floor next to him. He put a manila folder on the table and put on his coat, "Have fun with this one, detective. You'll quickly learn it wasn't me. But I know how did it. If you need a clue, give me a call, yeah?"

You stared at him, slightly shocked and on edge. His smile was threatening, uneasy and it made your guts twist together. Alastor walked away without a care in the world. As you watched him leave, you looked back to the folder. What on earth...? You did a quick glance around the cafe and peeked into the folder.

Angel laughed at that, "Nah. Not her." Somehow that didn't help "If she wanted to leave your ass she would have by now, dude." Okay... that helped a little. Charlie smacked Angel's arm and waved him away, "Everything's going to be fine," She said, "Vaggie and Nifty are with here right now. And you have to go out soon- before her."

Okay... Okay! He was getting married today, to the woman who once literally stole his heart. I guess a perk of being dead is you don't really need a heart, but he was glad you were the one who stole it figuratively and literally. He's never done anything like this. You were his first for everything on the list of firsts. So maybe he was nervous because deep down inside he knew he could fuck this up. That was the last thing he wanted.

He took in another long and deep breath, but this time as he exhaled he bestowed a smile on his face, opening his eyes with a glimmer of a red hue glowing to life. He could do this, "Let's get this show started."

You sat still and fought the urge to sneeze as you felt the dusting of a brush polish the last of your makeup. You half-listened to Vaggie and Nifty's conversation. Something about how beautiful the hotel was. Something else about how this was probably the most informal wedding ever. No one wore white to this wedding. Black and red only, with gold here and there, at your request of course.

"G-guys- I think that's good on the-" You tried saying, but Nifty hushed you quickly, "Stop! I'm almost done! You have to look perfect!" Did you though? This whole thing was supposed to be small and simple but somehow somewhere along the lines from then and now... Well, that didn't happen, "Alastor has never been married before. At least you had that when you were alive!" Wasn't this supposed to be the bride's day?

You finally got to open your eyes and take in your own form. It was easy for your to say you were most certainly more beautiful than when you were alive for your first wedding. You thought how ironic that was seeing as you were a demon now. But it was the dress the really sold you on it all. The entire length of it was black as night. You felt like a princess with how long the tail of the dress stretched behind you. The dark and exquisite embroidery laced up your arms and down your dress.

"You can't forget these," Vaggie said, she stood at your side as she handed you your bouquet. You laughed quickly, you had forgotten. There was one exception for white. You reached down and let your fingers trace along with the white petals of the flower. You giggled again and thought, Alastor will get a laugh at these. The soft but bright glow of the yellow within the Poet's Narcissus complimented their white outer petals. Otherwise known as a very fancy daffodil. The poor man was named after the damn things, after all. There was s reason he didn't like to share his full name. His mother would be at the wedding too, as well, so the bouquet might also win a few points with her, "Are you ready?" Vaggie asked. You took in a deep breath, brought the flowers to your nose, and soaked their scent in. As you exhaled you looked to her and nodded your head, "I'm ready."

Everything was perfect, at least for the two of you. It didn't really matter to either of you that anyone else was there. Every moment was picture perfect, from the aisle to the ceremony, the I'do's. Even the part where Alastor was hesitant but more so shy to kiss you in front of all those people. For a man who loved living upon a stage, he sure was nervous of the crowd and all the eyes on him for once. But you found that endearing, and honestly adorable as well. Now there was supposed to be a reception, very modern ya' know. It's the 21st century, people do those things. Everyone was on their way there... but not you. Nor your husband. Like I said, you were supposed to.

But very much like Alastor to be stuck in his era, he found a way to convince you to run away with him, "We gave everyone the ceremony. We don't need to go to some silly party and listen to people talk about us. I just want it to be us, we can go right now. Anywhere you want, I will take us there." You were standing beside him, just outside the reception hall. You could hear all the guests inside waiting for the two of you. You thought over what Alastor said. An idea sparked in your mind and you gave him a coy look, "Can you... take us to the surface?"

He raised a brow but still smirked back at you, "Is the pope catholic?" He jested, that was his way of saying yes. Then he gave a snap of his fingers. The two of you were masked in human forms, "Where to, my love?"