#personal fic

No path was in sight, no landmark nor clear way through the trees that surrounded her. The trees themselves were dead, cracked with decay and reaching for the sky with gnarled, rotted fingers. The sky itself was painted black and cloudclung, but lit from behind by a dim, dismal sun. Bridget hugged her arms close to her chest, both for warmth and to try and still her nerves. Rubbing her palms up and down her shoulders she could feel the sting of wounds still fresh. Witch was right, Death couldn’t do shit for me.

As if by divine punishment, she could feel the cry of each of her wounds, the sharp song of cuts that were still blood-wet to the touch, the swollen sting of burns not yet soothed. Bridget fell to her knees in a slow, sore descent that ended with a final, thudding drop to the soil below. Her body was wracked with ragged breaths that raced from her chest. As the pain faded to its baseline throb, one thought raced through her mind. She was alone. Alone was good. Alone was safe.

But she definitely was not safe here, at least not in her current state and certainly not for much longer, it occurred to her as she eyed her surroundings. What was moments ago a comfort quickly soured, warping itself into a suffocating, stifling condemnation. She was alone. Oh, gods, she was alone.

No one’s coming to save you, whispered Harper’s voice in her head. Bridget’s eyes burned as the beginning of a sob formed in the back of her throat. She fought it back, clutching her head so hard her fingernails left indents on her head. Her scalp was freezing cold- it was in this moment that she truly felt the absense of the mane of hair she’d had before. There’s nothing left of you. The second the dam was breached the flood couldn’t be stopped.

The edges of her vision started to blur, the horizon ahead of her looked like pins-and-needles in her sight. She rapidly breathed in and out, but her lungs couldn’t draw any oxygen in, grasping for air that would not come. She could swear the trees were stalking their way towards her, approaching with a sickening crackle. Notrealnotrealnotrealnotrealnotreal, Bridget pleaded in her mind, hiding behind her hands.

The crackling grew louder, deafening in its toll as the forest walled Bridget in, drawing closer and closer until she could feel the rough bark on her skin, until she was pinned between the trunks of a dozen trees, reaching for the heavens above. In her mind, she could hear her voice and Harper’s, together in a sick harmony-

Here, you’re nothing.

The anguished scream that left her was a spark landing in gasoline. The trees surrounding her shattered outward in a shower of bark as the air around her ignited and flame blossomed forth. Her great yell devolved into a fit of racking, gasping, screaming sobs that threw her forward to brace herself against the ground.

In her paralyzing horror Bridget could feel herself rising into the air, ascending off the ground inch after inch with each second. She couldn’t stop her ascent now, as the flame that exuded from her bore her upwards of its own volition. She hugged her knees to her chest, curling into a fetal position as roaring inferno raged around her, swirling like a hurricane she was the eye of.

Bridget could see the flames surrounding her had grown fiercer and fiercer every moment. Strangely, she didn’t feel any pain- not a single new burn marked her skin as the conflagration enveloped her. She finally felt warm, like even though the sky overhead was black and cold, she was basking in her own personal sunbeam. It was the best she felt in ages.

That is, until a hand grabbed hold of her ankle, pulling hard- hard enough to crack the joint painfully, casting her back down towards the ground. Even plummeting head over foot towards the ground, Bridget didn’t fall as fast as she expected to. She fell roughly half the speed she expected to, which still put her at terminal velocity under normal circumstances. She slammed into the ground, momentum propelling her across the dirt and halting the inferno that she was the epicenter of.

“Do not fear, spirit. I will lay you to rest!” commanded a woman’s voice as Bridget rolled across the cold ground painfully, groaning with each bump of the earth. She scrambled onto her side, crying out as she pulled herself onto her elbows, a spear embedding itself into the space she had occupied but a moment ago. “Wait!” she rasped. “Wait, please!” Her heart raced as she raised her hands- either in self-defense or in surrender, whichever would get her out of here. “Please stop!” Don’t cower. FIGHT BACK, dammit!

She heard the twinkle of a bell from several paces behind her accompanied by the falling of footsteps on the dry earth. Keys? The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She froze for a brief second before shocking herself to her feet as the spearwoman landed beside her weapon now, in a crouch.

The woman was a blur of black of as she rose to face Bridget, and at least a foot taller than she. She had a narrowed, determined expression in her amber eyes, fortified with black eyeliner drawn on way too thick.

“Diana, wait! That one’s alive!” The footsteps from behind drew closer, gait staggering as if winded from sprinting. “I can feel, they’re not a spirit! They’re just- by Death, what did you do to them? Hold back a little, Di!”

Bridget stared into Diana’s eyes, her own narrowing with confusion and surprise. Why could she recognize the voice approaching? As she turned to face the newcomer she could see a glint of verdant green-

“Dear god… Bridget?”

She almost flinched at the sound of her own name.

⧫

Neither of them were as one another remembered. The last time Bridget saw Magdalena, she was saying goodbye to her before fleeing the country. One last time together, as friends, the night before she left for Europe. Bridget remembers how she looked in her doorway- tears in her eyes, a messy bun falling apart over her shoulders, how she collapsed into her with the last hug they may ever share. She remembers holding it together until she shut the door one final time, pressing her back to the hard, dense wood and sliding down it to collapse in a pile on the floor, where she stayed for an hour. A night of pressing down her emotions like a surfboard under the surface of the water, singing with potential energy, before Mags left and the board flew to punch her in the face.

The woman before her now hardly resembled the girl she had been when she left. Her brown hair was pulled into an intricate fishtail braid, with strands of golden blonde interlaced throughout. Where she had left sobbing, mascara running in a messy sweatshirt, Magdalena now radiated before her- her posture straighter, her eyes determined and focused, a stunning green dress cascaded down to just below her knees, where sleek combat boots met and mingled with the hem of her dress. Around her flowed a ruby red coat with long sleeves that covered her wrists and a hem that flowed down to her ankles- a gift Bridget had given her just before she had fled to Europe. Strangely, she was also carrying a dark, oaken staff with a blood red jewel set in a gnarled wooden cage, which Bridget gave a quizzical glance. Nevertheless her heart swelled with a sense of hope, fuelling an ember she long thought extinguished.

“Mags!” she rasped, with a quiet, delighted awe in her voice.

So why did Magdalena look like someone shot a dog in front of her?

Oh, right. I’m pretty fucked up right now. Absent-mindedly, Bridget tried to cover herself. “Bridge- wait, no. Let me see your wounds.” Magdalena quickly closed the gap between the two and drove her staff into the dirt, freeing her hands to inspect the…everything wrong with her. Bridget ran hot with a shame that almost brought her to tears anew- that she had been left in such a state, that she couldn’t stop it, she was far too tired to figure out. As Mags’s eyes swept over her, all of her, Magdalena’s brow furrowed into something resembling a scowl. Is she mad at me? Did I do something? Why won’t she tell me? Bridget could feel static crackling at the edges of her vision again.

Diana surveyed the crackling at the edge of the horizon. “Magdalena, she’s destabilizing reality. We have to get her back around others or this entire forest could regress back into chaos. She already destroyed the forest.” It was dead when I got here, Bridget wanted to say, but held her tongue. She wasn’t sure of the dynamic between Magdalena and this Diana lady, and couldn’t deduce if she was still a threat to her. Not to mention she barely had the strength to speak.

Instead of shepherding Bridget towards wherever Diana wanted to go, Mags held her by the arms, lowering her onto her knees, as she knelt down with her. “The forest was dead anyway,” Magdalena said gently, causing Bridget to quietly cheer in her head. Mags looked past her at Diana, who was eyeing the borders of reality. “I can’t move her. I have to tend to her wounds here. To that end, give us some space so my magic can work better.”

“Are you sure you can control her? We can always put her to sleep and bring her to the Oasis. It’s not like she’ll die.”

Call it a bad first impression, but Bridget could feel that her and this woman weren’t fated to get along. Perhaps Mags felt Bridget tense in her grip, or more likely she had maintained her sense of empathy since the end of the world, but she shook her head. “No, here’ll do. Go! I’ll be fine,” she said, shooing her hand at Diana. Bridget could hear the woman with the eyeliner of an owl pull her spear from the dirt, wordlessly shooing off.

Bridget breathed a sigh of relief. “Mags, I…” Wait, magic? She furrowed her brow, taken aback. “Wait, magic?!” Then recognition flashed across her face. Oh right, I blew up a forest.

“Yeah, uh,” Mags sucked air through her teeth, shaking her head slightly. “There’s kind of a lot to fill you in on. More than I can really explain, but the long-and-short of it being, don’t freak out- reality depends on it.”

Are you fucking kidding me? Bridget might not have hidden her expression well, because even with a fat left eye Magdalena could tell she was a little more than irritated by that. Now she couldn’t even be safe from her own emotions? Mags took a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s…not ideal. But at the very least because of it I can help you. Speaking of which, this won’t hurt- I promise you.”

Magdalena brought her hands from Bridget’s forearms up to her head, each lovingly grasping the base of her skull. Bridget relished the feeling of a friendly touch, of someone she trusted- a feeling she had long ago stopped bothering to long for. “Gods, Bridge. Your hair…"

Bridget wished she hadn’t mentioned her hair. That was the last thing that she wanted to think about right now. Dejectedly she buried her head into Mag’s shoulder, heaving small, dry sobs that shook her weakened frame.

Magdalena gritted her teeth. It had been a year and a half before the bombs fell that she had gotten news of Bridget’s death. A year and a half of grieving, of loathing, of fighting alongside Bridget’s mother to get her body, to get anything from the authorities while abroad. This was so much worse than she could ever have expected. Sure, there were points early on where she had suspected that Bridget’s death was a lie, but as time went on and on, she settled for fighting for her corpse to lay to rest.

Magdalena pulled her in closer, wrapping her arm around Bridget and pressing her into the crook of her shoulder. A warm and radiant light enveloped the pair, bathing their embrace in a rich, dandelion-gold hue.

Bridget felt every molecule of her body sing and every nerve join in the chorus- she felt alive. Warmth spread from her heart to her extremities, the warmth of the sun that shines through a cool breeze on the first warm day of spring. The fresh cuts across Bridget’s chest and up her back hummed and scarred over with an itching haste. She could feel the pain leave the ankle Diana threw her by; her broken wrist that had healed wrong realigning itself, the ache and swelling leave her eye, her shoulder sliding into place. She inhaled a deep, rasping breath that rejuvenated her down to her very marrow. Better than all, she could feel her hair growing, spiralling into curls that sprouted through the cracks in Mags’s fingers and bloomed down Bridget’s shoulder. She could feel Magdalena’s magic babble through her as a creek flows down a hill, gently ambling before gently flowing back into Magdalena. Bridget pulled back from Magdalena’s embrace, smiling, to see with amazement that grass had sprouted up around them, peeking between them and brushing against their legs.

CRACK!

Bridget flinched, bracing for pain but felt none. She looked to Magdalena who, to her horror, had begun to form the wounds she had just healed, including a massive, swollen and bloodied left eye. “Mags!” Bridget grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mags, tell me how I can help!”

“Bridge, hah…” she gasped through a sudden pain, which was no great joy to watch. “It’s okay. This is normal. The pain’s gotta go somewhere. I can take it.” I deserve it, she corrected herself in her head. Pain shot through her again, causing her to cry out.

Magdalena covered her mouth with her hand, her wrist half cocked at an odd angle. “Oh, Bridget…” she said, with pleading eyes. A silent realization sparked between the two as they met each others’ gaze. Magdalena felt gruesome, cruel wounds internally that brought horror to her face.

Bridget dropped her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry you had to feel that. Have to feel this. I’m so sor-””

“No, Bridget. Don’t apologize. I-” I’m sorry. You should have never had to feel that. I should have never left you to get abducted by a shadowy government agency and tortured for a year and half and it’s all my fault that you got r- “I’m here for you.”

For a moment, neither said anything. The two locked eyes as if they were reading each others’ thoughts. They had been friends when they were once children named David and Ethan, two names that were bygone relics but of a shared past. To say that the two were friends after that was an understatement- they were brothers, sisters, rivals and mentors, everything but lovers. Now almost a decade later, Bridget and Magdalena were together once more on the far side of a shattered reality.

For now, that was enough.

Bridget pulled Mags into her embrace, holding her close as she possibly could.

After a time, Magdalena patted Bridget’s arm. “Go on ahead and find Diana. I need to be alone to heal through this.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave y-”

“You’ll be safe with her. Now that she knows you’re not a malevolent spirit.” Magdalena cut her off, redirecting.

“I, okay. I’ll see you soon?”

“Oh wait, take this!” Magdalena pulled her coat, the coat Bridget had given her, off and threw it over Bridget’s shoulders.

Magdalena gave a warm nod, the two sharing a loving glance as Bridget rose to shuffle off. She knew her magic would act with its full potency without others nearby extending their influence on reality, but in actuality she needed a second alone to process the weight of what she’d just learned. The cuts across her stomach seared her nerves as they began to mend themselves on their own, the sensation causing her to grit her teeth. After all this time, she was still a baby in the face of pain. It doesn’t matter. You deserve this.

The edges of reality blurred around her like TV static. With her head in her hands, she sobbed into her palms unabashedly.

“You left me to die, now look at me. Look at what you did to me.”

Magdalena looked up to see Bridget in front of her, wreathed in iridescent black mist. She was covered in the same cuts, bruises, and burns Magdalena was currently trying to heal through, tears streaking through the blood and ash on her face, her scalp buzzed and cut into.

“It was so much worse than you thought,” Bridget said. “And it’s all your fault.”

“I’m sorry Bridge, I’m so sorry,” Magdalena wept, “I never should’ve left. I should’v-” She yelped through a sickening crack as her wrist realigned itself in the same moment her shoulder relocated. She threw her head back in an anguished cry as she watched the malformed specter of her friend as it limped towards her, closing the distance clumsily to bring a hand to cup Magdalena’s chin.

‘Bridget’ stared at her with stilled, pleading eyes. “You felt what they did to me. You know that was only a fraction of what I suffered.” A cold tear dripped down ‘Bridget’s’ face, falling below onto Magdalena’s hand like a drop of dew.

“You can’t fix this,” her greatest regret whispered, dissolving into the same glowing black mist she arrived in, which came to wash over her like a passing fog, dewy and chilling. Once it passed, all she was left with was the still silence of the dead forest around her, crackling with the static of warped reality, like the universe was scrunching in on it.

Magdalena took a deep breath, exhaling as she rose to her feet. She snatched her staff out of the dirt and started in the direction Bridget and Diana had left in. I can still try to fix what I can.

⧫

“Diana? Are you there?” Bridget’s shout was lost in the forest ahead of her, where each tree was almost identical within a dense thicket almost featureless in its repetition. “Dian-”

A dark blur materialized beside her, solidifying into Diana’s form. “Don’t shout. You’ll attract spirits.” Bridget almost leapt out of her skin as time slowed down to an instant, her racing even in that briefest of moments. A cry escaped her as she recoiled from Diana’s sudden appearance.

Diana, sensing her mistake, cast her spear aside and held her palms out in a non-threatening gesture. “I’m sorry! It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” The threatening aura dropped from her face like a sheet falling to the ground.

“By the gods, do you have any fucking subtlety?” Bridget lashed out.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have startled you. That’s my bad.” Diana adopted the tone of a zookeeper trying to stop a polar bear from eating an errant child fallen into its exhibit. Her gaze softened ever so slightly. “Your hair looks beautiful, by the way.”

Bridget ran a hand through the long, heavy mane that now poured out from her scalp into a mess of brown curls. For the first time in months, someone warm ignited in her heart. “I…thank you.”

Diana offered an assuring smile, looking down at the woolen coat she was wrapped in. She tried not to think about how the emaciated girl before her swam in the embrace of the scratchy red fabric. “You’re Bridget, huh. Maggie talks about you a lot. She never forgot you.”

For a brief moment, Bridget’s heart stopped pumping blood, instead driving out a thick emulsification of sorrow, grief, and relief that made tears well in her eyes. “I…”

Bridget stumbled forward, reaching out for a tree trunk well out of reach as her vision swam before her, Diana, rushed to her, driving her body into the crook underneath her shoulder and pulling her into herself. “It’s okay, the adrenaline’s just wearing off!”

A wave of exhaustion hit Bridget like her soul was being torn out through the bottom of her feet and in the barest of instants everything faded into darkness. She ragdolled into Diana’s arms, as the warrior deftly caught her with a steady hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.”

A beat passed before Diana noticed Magdalena approaching her, staff in hand.

When Alastor decided to spend his night people watching, he preferred to go to various bars and dance clubs around the Pentagram. The itch to maim and kill would arise and he'd sneak off to follow his prey for the night, but occasionally when these moods hit him he simply preferred to sit and observe. 

Tonight was one of those moods, the ravenous hunger that gnawed at him was sated for the evening and he was feeling rather…nostalgic might be too strong a word to describe the feeling, but it was the most fitting that came to mind. It would explain why he chose the establishment he did for this night. It was a familiar bar bordering Cannibal Town, and one he hasn't been to visit since…well, for quite some time. 

The building was still the same as it had been for decades, with the same worn leather booths and easy going atmosphere very few bars offered in hell. When Alastor stepped through the front door, he could have believed for a moment that he was back in a simpler time; a time where he didn't feel the oppressive weight of a collar around his neck, when the shark-toothed smile of his picturebox didn't cause such an ache in his chest-

He immediately abandoned that line of thought, focusing on the now to ground himself again. There were a few updates here and there in the building that caused cracks in his nostalgic memories. The floors had clearly been replaced recently, the hardwood stain free with fewer cracks from wear and tear. The far wall had a new coat of paint, and new framed paintings to go with it. The register at the bar was modern and electronic, and there was even a TV at the corner of the bar. 

Alastor did a double take, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before his face settled back into his trademark, unbothered smile. That was no regular TV.

Vox sat in the far corner of the bar top, eyes lidded and a soft frown on his screen. His right hand held his head up as he leaned listlessly against the counter, his left hand hovering over his glass of whiskey, pointer claw circling the rim idly. Now that he saw him, Alastor picked up the familiar feeling of static and electric frequencies that always announced the presence of the television. No doubt he had picked up on Alastor's presence as well.

A spark of glee went off in Alastor’s chest. A night teasing and provoking his old friend for attention was not how Alastor thought this night would go, but he wasn't about to complain. As he understood it, Vox rarely actually left Vee Tower these days, so buried by work and ingrained in his cameras and electronics as he was. To find him idling the night away in what was their hang out spot back in the day was a real treat indeed! 

Paying no mind to the other patrons of the building-they didn't matter anymore, not when Vox was here-Alastor made his way to the empty spot next to where the television demon sat. He still hadn't looked up from the bar counter, and Alastor noticed his phone lying in front of him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Silly picturebox, he always got so wrapped up in work he couldn't even relax properly. Well, a good verbal spar, possibly followed by a physical one, would do the shark wonders, he was sure. And if Alastor got to bask in his rival’s undivided attention in return, then that was his business. 

“Vox, old pal! What a surprise!” His voice was cheerful and not entirely false. After seven years of not seeing the demon’s familiar shark grin, Alastor had been surprised at himself by how much he missed it. Not even the hurt from years before could dim the pleasant feeling that had flooded his veins when he walked through town and saw Vox taunting him on live television. It was exhilarating to have so much of the TV’s focus on him once again. 

He couldn't wait for those red and blue eyes to look up at him - annoyed, surprised, angry, it didn't matter. As long as Vox was looking at him-

His words got no response. Alastor’s left eye twitched, his smile tightening at the corners as he pressed in closer to the media demon's personal space. 

“Vox? Helloooo?” Still nothing. “You are being awfully rude, old friend. I suppose with all your upgrades, manners must have been lost somewhere along the way, hmm?” Static laced his voice, his only tell that the lack of attention was irritating him. He waited, bent over Vox's shoulder, eager for a response. 

Finally he was given one. Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep, weary sigh. His gaze still locked on his phone. 

“Go away Alastor.” He rumbled. Well that simply wasn't going to happen. Vox still hadn't looked at him yet. With narrowed eyes Alastor peeked down at the phone, annoyed at whatever could have his picturebox so enamored. 

His eyebrow raised in curiosity. It wasn't work that Vox was staring at, it was a picture. Or rather, pictures. The TV was clearly using wireless commands on his phone to flick between picture after picture saved to the device, all of them with the main center point being his beloved pet land shark. 

“My, my, is that Vark? He's gotten rather big!” The radio demon commented. Even with his dislike for dogs, the land shark had been an exception to this rule, much like Vox has been an exception to every other rule Alastor had ever set for himself.

The shark demon's left hand stopped playing with his glass, slamming against the bar top as he finally-finally-looked at Alastor. 

“Fuck off, Alastor. I'm not in the mood.” He growled. His massive teeth were bared in his direction, his left eye swirling in apparent irritation. And yet despite the outburst, Alastor could see that he wasn't truly angry. 

With a clear up-close view of his screen, Alastor could see the stress on the demon's face, could see the lack of fire in his eyes when Alastor poked at his buttons. Eyes darting down, he took in the rest of the media mogul’s appearance. His bowtie was undone around his collar, vest slightly wrinkled, the sleeves of his undershirt unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows.

He looked disheveled, stressed. Tired. 

Very interesting. 

“Now my old friend, what could have you so out of sorts on such a fine night? A less than perfect appearance in public? Very unlike you.” Alastor couldn't keep the purr from his voice. Vox always had a way of making his softer side bubble up to the surface…

Vox scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his whiskey before looking back at his phone. As if Alastor hadn't even interrupted his apparent brooding. The flickers of irritation Alastor felt before were changing, morphing into discontent and genuine concern. This was very unlike the Vox he knew. 

He sat on the empty stool beside Vox, pleased when the action got an irritated twitch from the demon's left hand. He wasn't able to ignore him completely it would seem. Alastor brought his elbows up to the bar top, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on the link they made. Vox’s gaze darted towards him, his frown turning into a scowl very briefly before he flicked his attention back to the pictures of Vark.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say something happened to darling Vark to get you into such a state.” He prodded, not all together unkind. Even with the years of animosity between them, there were unspoken rules to their interactions. Jabs and insults were superficial and shallow, about their work or preferred aesthetics. Meant to annoy and vex but not actually hurt. If something genuinely distressing has happened to Vark, Alastor would take great care to not use it as future ammo.

Vox glared at him, confusion clear in his gaze. 

“What do you care? I'm surprised you even fucking remember his name…” Alastor blinked in response. 

“My dear, why would I not remember him? I was there when you found the mongrel and insisted on keeping him!” Alastor’s brow furrowed in confusion, smile close lipped as he took in Vox’s words. How could Alastor not remember that night? 

Vox had gone with him to one of Rosie's soirees. He had charmed many of the local cannibal residents with his quick wit and sharp smile. Alastor had been a confusing mix of pride at how much attention his dear friend had been receiving, and jealous that he hardly had a single moment of Vox's undivided attention the whole evening. It was when Susan had started fawning over the TV that Alastor had excused them both, his limit for the night reached. Alastor had walked Vox back to his apartment block, arm in arm, as the shark talked and talked, words as electric as the very power he controlled. He had been so giddy, asking Alastor in every way except words if he had done a good job that night, made a good impression on the community Alastor held so dear. 

It was a tiny squeak from an alleyway that stopped the demon's excited chatter. Vox froze, stopping Alastor too due to their locked arms. Alastor had been certain it was just a random sinner, high out of their mind and possibly overdosing, not that he cared much. They would regenerate by morning, he had reminded Vox. But the silly tv had shaken his head, insisting it was something different. He had pulled away from Alastor and gone into the alley, and Alastor had ‘tsk’ed but followed, only to see Vox crouching over a box. 

The look he had given Alastor then…wide eyes hopeful and pleading, clearly enamored by whatever he found, had made Alastor’s heart skip a beat and pound against his chest. He knew right then that it didn't matter what it was, if Vox said he wanted to keep it, Alastor wouldn't have the strength to dissuade him.

Vox had taken his blazer off and scooped the contents of the box up, wrapping it snug and tight. Curious despite himself, Alastor had stepped forward to see better, and was greeted with the most pathetic looking creature he could recall ever seeing in hell.

Vark had been a small pup, massive eyes swollen shut with infection as he wheezed in Vox's arms. His gills were scarred and battered and his body much too thin. Alastor could clearly remember the way his skeleton pressed against the confines of his filthy skin. (Vox had later explained, in great detail, that they weren't actually bones made of calcium, but rather cartilage. The only ‘real’ bone sharks had was their jaws and teeth. Alastor had been drinking his tea, trying not to let how smitten he felt in the moment show. Then Vox had said that shark's skin was actually made of the same stuff as his own teeth - dentine - and not actual skin, and Alastor had been so startled by the information he couldn't help but laugh.)

By the way Vox was cooing over the small creature wrapped like a burrito in his arms, Alastor correctly guessed that the demonic shark pup would be a permanent fixture of Vox's life moving forward. 

“The pairs of wingtips I had to replace when that pup started teething…” Alastor sighed, rolling his eyes with fondness that he only let a select few, Vox being one of them, see. “Although he is much bigger now than back then. He used to barely be able to reach your knee when on his back legs!” He chuckled, signaling to the bartender with a wave of his hand.

Vox simply stared at him in surprise as he ordered his three fingers of rye. He still didn't say anything about what had him so upset, and the two of them sipped from their drinks in silence for a few minutes. Alastor was content to sit and wait till the tv finally spoke again. He didn't have to wait long. 

“Why the fuck are you here Alastor? Why do you care why I'm here?” Vox glared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You fucking hate me.”

Alastor choked on his next sip, the burning alcohol getting stuck in the back of his throat as his mind scrambled. Quickly trying to save face, he covered his mouth with a hand, coughing and clearing his throat as discreetly and quickly as he could. Vox looked like he wanted to laugh for a moment, before the general malaise of his thoughts settled over him again. Alastor's voice still sounded a little choked when he spoke again. 

“M-my dear-what-” He took a moment to compose himself again. “What ever gave you that impression?”

Vox looked at him like he grew a second head, indignant and offended. 

“The fuck do you mean, ‘what gave me that impression’!? Alastor. We almost killed each other.” There was the familiar fire in his eyes. Alastor was glad to see it back.

“Oh please, the occasional brawl is nothing for us! An exhilarating battle to get the blood pumping.” He responded, his smile turning eager at the thought. Vox always looked so very pretty when upset…Not as pretty as when he was flustered and shy, to be certain, but Alastor hasn't had a chance to see those wonderful expressions in quite some time…

Vox looked at him with wide eyes, mouth open in shock like a gaping fish. It was rather cute.

“I asked you to join me.” Alastor opened his mouth to respond only for Vox to keep going. “Fuck Alastor, I was in love with you.” He closed his mouth with a sharp ‘click’, staring at the TV demon. 

“You made it very clear you don't feel the same. You said ‘no’, and left. How else am I supposed to take that!?” Vox's voice was laced with static, his left eye swirling again as sparks shot between his antennae.

“Ah…I believe my dear friend…that there was a miscommunication.” Alastor watched as Vox's face went through a slew of emotions, many negative, before settling on confusion and hurt. 

“...What?”

“My dear, I had to leave no matter what. A partnership was never an option for me at the time. I was under the impression I had made that clear.” His voice was soft, red eyes watching the tv next to him. 

“I thought…the way you left, I thought it was because of-of how I felt-” Vox's voice was practically a whisper as he spoke. “I thought you hated me for it…”

Alastor felt his chest ache, realization of how Vox had felt during that time crashing into him hard, like a punch to the gut.

“Vox, my leaving and rejection of your partnership had nothing to do with emotions. Nor should it be taken as a declaration of how I felt towards you at the time. I…truly did not intend for my rejection to be so harsh that it could be taken in such a way.”

Vox looked away from him, setting his elbows on the bar top and cradling his screen in his claws. Alastor took another sip from his rye, giving the other a moment to compose himself. 

It was only a few moments later that Alastor realized Vox was trembling. He placed his drink down, and subtly used his shadows to darken the corner of the room they were in. In the next few moments he was glad he had done so, as the first few tears fell from Vox’s screen. Alastor leaned in closer, his smile strained.

“Vox…?”

“What the fuck…” His voice was barely audible, the words spoken with a shuddering inhale of breath. Alastor felt something worm its way into his gut, slimy and viscous, choking him from the inside out. Vox crying was something he had only ever seen once before, and now with new context added to the situation, he could understand why his rejection all those years ago had caused them. He wasn't sure what about his words had caused them this time. 

He laid a gentle hand on Vox's shoulder, and the other jumped at the feeling. Alastor pulled his hand away as if burned, shocked at the raw hurt and pain he saw on Vox's screen. The shark shuddered as more of his tears fell.

“I-I can't d-d-do this right now, Al-Alastor…I can't do this t-tonight-!” He hiccuped, and Alastor's own expression turned pained, smile strained and trying to pull down against the invisible stitches lining it. 

“Vox…?” His voice was gentle as he called the other’s name. Vox's eyes darted down to his phone. Alastor followed his gaze before looking back at his face. Vox’s eyes were wide and glitching ever so slightly, fat blue tears leaking down his face in rivulets and collecting on the edge of his monitor before falling to the table.

“Do you th-think it's fucking-...fucking funny!? Is that why you're here now!?” Vox gave a humorless chuckle that choked into a quiet sob, burying his face in his hands. Any other sound he would have made was muffled, only the shaking of his shoulders revealing that he was still upset. Alastor’s eyes darted around the room quickly, looking to see if anyone had noticed the apparent breakdown happening next to him. Only the bartender met his gaze, simply raising an eyebrow and nodding towards Vox, then the bottles of booze lining the wall next to him. Alastor shook his head, Vox didn't need more alcohol clouding his judgment.

“My old friend, I'm afraid I don't entirely follow.” If he could frown, he would do so right now. “I would think clearing up this misunderstanding would be excellent news! Why are you so upset-?” 

“Just-! Stop. S-stop talking, dammit…” The television's voice cracked with emotion, head still buried in his hands. Alastor felt truly lost. He was never very good at the ‘comforting others’ business, a power his mother had in spades that he never quite got the hang of himself. It hadn't ever been a problem in the past when it came to him and his picturebox; Vox was prone to anger over sadness when things in Hell became difficult, but on the occasions he was genuinely upset…Well, at the time all Alastor had to do was place his hand on the shark demon's back and that would be enough. Vox would be grounded by his touch and come back to him, tired but good as new. 

Considering the revelation of the night, Alastor was pretty certain such touch would be unwelcome right now. 

“...Fuck. You really have just-...the worst f-fucking timing, don't y-you.” Those wide, expressive eyes were back on him. Despite the fresh tear tracks, the ragged and heavy breathing, the pain in Vox’s face…Alastor still felt his insides grow warm and mushy at having all of Vox's attention on him still. 

He wasn't sure how to respond to the other's words, so he took a sip of his drink instead. 

Vox heaved a bone-deep, shuddering sigh, shaking his head gently. He took a slow sip of his own drink, and Alastor's eyes were glued to the motion of his throat as he swallowed. There was a lull between them, one that had Vox opening and closing his mouth several times. Just when Alastor thought the TV would speak, he'd stop himself, taking another sip of liquid courage as he thought.

Alastor sat and waited. 

“Vark…” Vox took a deep breath, suddenly leaning backwards and scrubbing his hands over his face hard enough his screen distorted into rainbow pixels before clearing up. As if said hands were suddenly made of lead, Vox dropped them into his lap, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. He blinked once, twice…and more tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. The fat water droplets raced silently down the television's face. He didn't bother trying to wipe them away. 

So Alastor reached a hand up and used his own thumb to do so. Vox startled, face snapping in Alastor's direction with shock written all over his expressive face. Concerned and confused as he was, Alastor couldn't help but file yet another pretty face Vox made into his memory to think about later. Out of all the crying faces the Radio Demon has seen in his long after life, Vox’s was by far the prettiest. 

The TV sighed after a moment, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned further into Alastor's palm, his own hand coming up to grip at the deer demon's wrist. 

“...Vark passed yesterday.” The words were muffled and quiet, so difficult to pick up Alastor’s ears twitched and strained just to catch the sound being whispered by his picturebox. He stiffened, back straightening when they finally registered. 

“He…?”

“He was old.” Vox whispered. His lips pressed against the warm skin of Alastor's palm with every word. “He was tired, and in pain. He lived for so many years…” Another painful breath in, shoulders trembling as Vox tried to speak. 

“I couldn't-...I couldn't watch him suffer anymore Al…I couldn't do it-'' A choked noise left him, a sound that came from deep in his chest. Alastor felt a pain in his chest, a sharp sting that made his brow furrow and his stomach ache. His strong, clever, independent picturebox…looking broken hearted and sad…

“My dear, I'm so sorry…” he whispered. It was all he could do. He kept his hand where it held Vox's face, moving his free hand to the demon's other cheek. Cradling his screen like it was the most delicate, fragile thing in all of hell. 

Vox gave another quiet sob in response, head bowing as he leaned further into Alastor's space. The deer simply moved with him, adjusting his hold to let the television rest his screen on his chest, wrapping his arms tight around the others shoulders. Vox's own claws gripped the back of his coat, holding on like Alastor was the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“H-he's gone-he's f-fucking gone and I d-don't…I fucking miss him so much Alastor…” Vox cried into his chest and Alastor bit his tongue to keep his own emotions in check. This was not the place for such honesty. No one else should have the privilege to see his shark demon so vulnerable. Without a second to waste his shadows curled over the two of them, melting and carrying them far away from prying eyes and ears.

Barstools were replaced with the soft cushion of a mattress under them, the sound of rowdy patrons and jazz melted away to the silence of Alastor’s room at the hotel. He felt Vox freeze where he held him, muscles tensing up as if to attack or run. When Alastor simply continued to hold him, Vox relaxed by slow degrees. His breathing still came in choked whimpers and restrained sobs. The only thing Alastor could think to do to help calm him was to reach a hand up and gently play with an antenna. 

The television demon jumped in surprise, but he did not move away. Instead, he gripped Alastor tighter, cyan claws gripping him like he would be torn away any second. The deer let him without complaint, his own eyes slipping closed as he held his darling picturebox in a way he hadn’t in decades. Did Vox miss this as much as he did? Did those two colleagues of his give him the attention Alastor knew he craved? Abandonment issues were Vox’s biggest weak point; and now Alastor knew that his main support system, his beloved Vark, was no longer there for him.

Alastor realized suddenly that he would never get to see the pup again either, and bit his bottom lip at the sorrow that swept over him at the thought. He may not be very fond of pets himself, but Vark had still wiggled his adorable shark butt into Alastor’s tight group of things he cared about, and he would truly miss him. He decided Vox should know this.

“He was a truly sweet creature my friend. You always did your best for him, I know.” 

Vox shuddered again at his words, a new wave of tears soaking through Alastor’s coat. He stamped down his immediate gut reaction of disgust. It would wash out. He could handle it. It was as he held Vox close and let the other calm down that he was struck with a sudden thought.

“When was the last time you ate, my friend?” 

Vox coughed, pulling away from Alastor to wipe uselessly at his tear stained face. His multicolored eyes stared off to the side, and Alastor was struck again by how…small he looked. Like the lightest wind could blow him away. Vox gave a barely perceptible shrug to his question. Alastor huffed, pushing lightly at the TV’s chest to stand up from the bed.

“I shall make you something. Sit here.” Vox’s eyes went wide and his hand reached out; as if to grab Alastor and pull him back in and never let him go, to hold him close. The deer demon shushed him, encouraging the other to stay still. “I’ll be but a moment my darling. Take some time to calm yourself, maybe even clean up a little. The bathroom is right through there.” He gestured towards the red wall at the beginning of his room where a door innocently sat before the wall fell away to the endless bayou scenery of his hometown. He pulled his coat off and held it out, his shadow plucking it from his fingers to be washed and dried later.

Vox bit his bottom lip but nodded, pushing himself further back onto the bed to lay comfortably against Alastor’s own hardly used pillows. The sight was one he thought he’d never see again; Vox causally on his bed, in his room, surrounded by his presence and scent. It made a dark possessive part of him hiss in joy. He was careful to ignore it. Now was not the time, Vox needed to be allowed to grieve. He would stake a claim on the television another time when Vox was in a better mindset.

He gave his shadows a silent instruction to watch the shark demon while he was away. With a step towards the door of his room he melted into shadow and stepped back out into the hotel kitchen. He was thankful the late hour meant no one was there to disrupt him. He needed to be done with this fast, to get back to his picturebox for the night. With practiced ease he whipped something up, a pan seared slab of meat (not sinner, he was careful to make sure) with some simple sauteed veggies on the side. He didn’t need anything fancy, just something tasty to get into Vox’s stomach before the shark withered away to nothingness.

When he stepped back inside his own room, two plates of food steaming, Vox was sitting right where he left him. The TV was staring out into the vast openness of his bayou, mismatched eyes darting from firefly to firefly as they flickered. His own coat was off, folded neatly on the edge of the bed with his shoes on the floor. Alastor was pleased he felt no reservations about making himself comfortable. He didn't speak, letting the peaceful sound of water lapping against the floor settle over them both. Alastor used a shadow tendril to drag his arm chair closer to the bed.

Before sitting, he held out Vox's plate. The television looked at him, gaze hollow and…so tired. It made his heart twinge in his chest. He gently pushed the plate into Vox's lax hands and settled down to eat next to him. In silence he ate, trying his level best not to stare at his companion or force feed him the dinner cooling in his lap. His patience was rewarded. 

Possibly encouraged by Alastor's eating, or perhaps he just couldn't ignore his body’s desire for sustenance any longer, Vox took his first slow bite. He chewed listlessly, eyes still fixed on the glowing fireflies hovering over swamp water. Every bite was still progress in Alastor's eyes. 

“I don't…want to go back to that empty apartment…” His voice was so soft, so quiet Alastor questioned if he had even heard the other at first. He didn't draw attention to the fresh tears dripping down Vox's screen.

“Then do not. You may stay as long as you wish.” Alastor replied. He continued to eat, even as Vox put his own unfinished plate aside. Alastor had a shadow move it from the unstable surface of the bed to one of his dressers to deal with later. Vox simply laid back against the pillows once more, tears leaking from his face but nothing else. Perhaps he was too tired to cry any longer. 

You waited a moment for a reply. But when none came, you let out a soft sigh and set your phone down. You didn't understand what was happening. Eddie was seeming to disappear more often. You rarely saw him anymore. He'd barely reply to your texts. It was odd, and it hurt your feelings.

And no matter how much you tried to figure out what was going on, he was constantly evading the question. If only you could see Venom, talk to him for a moment, you knew he would tell you. But you think Eddie knew this too, hence why he was avoiding seeing you in person.

As you got dressed to go out, you checked your phone every few minutes to see if he replied. Every time you saw he hadn't you felt a little worse.

Eddie was your closest friend, and you had to admit, you sometimes caught yourself hoping he was more than that. But now, you really began to doubt whether that would ever happen.

- - - - - - -

Eddie let out a frustrated sigh as he tossed his phone onto his bed. He hated ignoring you, he hated not seeing you.

"Why are you doing this Eddie!?" Venom's voice rang out.

"You know why!" Eddie excused.

"Because you are a wimp who cannot admit his feelings?"

Eddie opened his mouth to defend himself, but paused. Letting out a sigh he nodded his head. "Yeah, actually."

"Then I will do it for you!"

"What? No!"

"Why not! At least one of us has the balls to do it!"

"Dude, shut up! Have you not thought about what might happen if Y/n doesn't feel the same? Our friendship would be over, then we would never see her again!"

"I could see her..."

"What?"

"I could go see her, it's you she would avoid."

"What makes you think she'd want to see you?"

"She would!"

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

"You are hurting her Eddie."

"You don't think I know that?!"

"Then go see her! Tell her! What if she does feel the same?"

Eddie stopped and thought about it for a moment.

"At least you would know." Venom spoke with an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

"Alright, if, and I mean if, I go see her, you cannot do or say anything. You have to let me do it."

"Fine."

"Promise."

Venom growled a bit. "Fine. I promise."

"Alright." Eddie paced around his apartment for a moment.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"You are going to be late."

Looking over at the clock Eddie felt his heart jolt. "Shit!" Running to put on his shoes, he tripped over his own feet, but quickly rushed his way out of his apartment.

- - - - - - -

Looking out o the window, you sighed as you paid your bill and rose to leave. You stayed a little longer than normal, hoping that Eddie would show up, but of course he didn't.

Walking outside, you let out a soft shiver as the cold wind hit you. Looking up, you saw no sign of any stars or the moon as the sky was crowded with dark clouds.

Looking around, you saw no signs of any taxis. Debating for a moment, you decided you would just walk back home. It's wasn't that far. As you made your way down the lamp-lit street, you saw a few shadowed figures ahead of you, leaning against the fence.

You felt your nerves kick in but continued to walk. As you kept your head down, you reached into your bag, placing your hand around your pepper spray. This walk was never frightening to you before, but you had always been with Eddie, and Venom. You were always safe.

Making your way past the two men, who were clearly eyeing you, you felt a sense of relief wash over you as they didn't speak. But after a moment, you heard footsteps behind you. Your hand tightened around your pepper spray as you heard a low whistle from one of the men.

"Hey beautiful, it's dangerous to go walking around here alone." He was clearly drunk, as his words were slurred.

"I'm fine, thanks." You called back without turning back to him. You quickened your pace a bit.

"Let me take you home, ey?" The other one said with a tone that sent shivers down your spine.

"No thanks, I'm fine." You replied.

"Hey, you can at least look us in the eyes when you talk to us!" the drunk one spoke, his voice raised.

You picked up your pace, and did not reply, hoping they would give up.

"I was talking to you!"

As you felt a hand grasp your shoulder, you gasped as you spun around, aiming your pepper spray at the man and spraying it. He yelled out as he stumbled back.

You watched as the other man began to run at you "Bitch!"

Before you could pepper spray him, you saw a long black tentacle wrap around his neck and yank him back. You watched as his body flew into the nearby alley and slammed against the dumpster, before he stood up and limped away. The other man, half blinded, ran away as well, stumbling down the street.

Seeing Eddie run up to you, you felt relief wash over you. He pulled you into a hug, and you let out a sigh. "Oh, thank God Eddie. Venom, thank you."

"Are you alright?"

You nodded and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"Late? Eddie you told me you weren't coming at all."

"Yeah, yeah I know, I'm sorry. But I decided last minute that I couldn't stand you up again."

Feeling light rain being to sprinkle down on you, you scoffed. "So you've been standing me up? I thought you were working?"

You saw Eddies face change to regret. "No, no, I- that's not what I meant. Well, no, I wasn't working. Look, can we talk about this later? It's starting to rain."

You shook your head in disbelief as you turned and started making your way down the sidewalk.

'Nice one jack ass, you made her mad.' Venom hissed at Eddie.

"Oh shut up" He whispered to himself as he ran to catch up with you.

As the rain began to fall a little harder, your mind began to race as your heart was pounding. You felt anger rising in your chest, and unable to stop it, you turned to Eddie. "If you haven't been busy with work, why were you avoiding me? What's going on Eddie?"

Eddie let out a soft whimper as he motioned to the sidewalk, obviously wanting you to keep walking.

You stayed in the same place, not caring that you were getting wet as the rain poured down at a steady rate. Even as thunder echoed above you, you stood still, staring at him expectantly.

"Come on Amy, we should get to your apartment, I don't want you catching a cold."

Suddenly feeling Venom begin to take over, Eddies hand smacked him in the face. "Ow!" He gasped out.

You rose a brow. "Thank you Venom."

"Wha- Thank you? Seriously?"

You tilted your head a bit as you stared him down. "Tell me."

Looking around, Eddie let out an aggravated groan as he gently grabbed your shoulders and pushed you over to a small overhang outside of a building to get you out of the direct downpour.

"Okay, okay." Letting out a huff of air, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I haven't been busy with work, I have been avoiding you." He met your eyes and saw the obvious hurt, and felt his chest ache. "And I'm so sorry. I just-" He let out a soft sigh, unable to continue.

You stomped your foot lightly. "Come on Eddie! We've known each other for years. We've been so close until recently. What's happening that's causing you to do this. What is there that you can't tell me? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, Amy, you didn't do anything. It's me, it's these...feelings I can't figure out what do do with." He lifted his arms up in a gesture of defeat.

You felt your heart pounding heavier in your chest as you almost felt breathless. "What feelings?"

He gestured to himself. "Mine, for you."

You stared at him for a moment, seeing he was slowly loosing confidence. Finally finding your voice you spoke, "Are you saying that, you have feeling, for me? Like, romantic, feelings?"

Eddie shrugged his head in a show of confirmation, while still obviously nervous.

"For how long?"

"Since just before I started avoiding you more."

"So you started distancing yourself, because, what? You didn't want to have feelings for me? You were scared? You didn't think I felt the same?"

"Yeah, all of the above. I mean, I wasn't gonna say anything 'cause I didn't want to ruin our friendship, ya' know."

You let out a incredulous laugh as you ran your hands over your face. As the rain started to pour a little harder, you spoke louder, to be heard. "Eddie, you didn't have to run away from it."

"I didn't?"

You let out a laugh. "No, because I do feel the same. I have for ages. And unlike you, I didn't start avoiding you because of it."

Eddie looked at you in shock for a moment. "You mean, yo'e been walking around, hanging out with me, feeling like this." He placed his hand on his chest. "Not knowing if I felt the same?"

You nodded your head. "Yeah. And it does hurt, but it hurts more when we're separate doesn't it?"

Eddie let out a soft sigh and nodded "Yeah. It was torture."

You stared at him with a soft amused smile and shook your head. "So, what now?"

Eddie smiled at you as he took a step closer to you. Reaching up, he moved a wet strand of hair from your face before he met your eyes. "Now, I'm gonna kiss you." He said softly.

You felt your smile widen at his comment. You felt your heart pounding in your chest as he inched forward. The suspense as he did so was aching in your body. But as his lips met yours, you felt all of it melt away as a seemingly electric feeling washed over you. As you leaned into the kiss, you felt certain this was mean to be.

As a loud crack of thunder crashed over head, you both jumped, causing you to break the kiss. You both let out a laugh as Eddie pulled you a bit closer and pulled out his phone. "I think we should get a taxi."

You nodded in amusement as the rain began to pour down heavier. Eddie pulled you close to him as he began to talk on the phone. You let out a soft breath as you leaned your head against his chest. You should be scared from the storm, still shaking from the run-in with the men. But as Eddie wrapped his arm around you, all you felt was safe, and happy.

xx End xx

I hope you liked it! <3

I know this is not a normal reader insert, but I'm adding your tags anyway, just in case you still want to read it.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen