#silverinkwrites

Drum island was home, it had been since you took your first breath. You had seen more harsh winters than it was warranted. Yet, it made you all the tougher, like the hard bark of the pines you helped your father chop down in your youth. However, even the hardest of hearts can soften under the influence of love, catching the eye of one soft spoken captain of the guard. Courtship had been slow and gentle like the thawing of a river in spring, but all the same it moved in a natural progression. A first kiss, a gentle promise and eventually a quiet marriage ceremony.

However, Dalton's life wasn't simple as he come home to your cozy cabin in the woods looking more exhausted with each passing week. Until one day, he didn't come at all as you waited night after night. The sting of cuts from your bowstring that had been clutched in your hands since that ominous plume of smoke rose from Drum Castle. It was because of that foreboding castle and the tyrant that occupied it that Dalton had all but hidden you away in the depths of the woods. Your only company for days, the lone but aging hound that curled at the foot of your bed. Not that you minded, you preferred the solitude, besides you had him. The gentle warmth in his gaze when he crawled into bed after a long night.

Or at least you did.

It was the low growl of the hound that awoke you from sleep as your hands immediately scrambled for your bow and the singular arrow on your bedside table. The hair prickling on the back of the hound's neck made you swallow tightly. Waiting, waiting, patience, all lessons that years of tracking game had become akin to instinct as you backed against the rough hew wooden wall in the corner of the bed. The taunt string of the bow drawn back as the singular arrow screamed it's 'welcome' at the loud creak of the door.

The sharp crack of wood from the steel of the arrowhead sounded like bones snapping. It had met it's mark above the intruder's hand braced against the now open door. A low whine in the hound's voice turned the atmosphere from hostile to surprise as you hastily scrambled toward the door.

"Dalton!" Even your whisper sounded like a shout in the darkened cabin. Thick leather gloves caught your hands as you reached upward towards the man's concealed face. You couldn't make out any more detail except the gentle expression in his eyes.

"Easy." A soft command. Tired, he sounded so tired as you bit your lower lip, but allowed your hands to go limp in his grip. Quickly you held them together to resist to urge to investigate your now returned husband's face. But you couldn't stifle the harsh intake of breathe once that familiar scent of iron.

"Dalton.."

"Easy, easy, I'm fine."

The strain of emotion in your voice made you feel all the more childish against his gentle reassurance as a gloved hand lightly brushed against your cheek. Wiping away a singular tear that threatened to turn into a river as you pressed your face against the rough wool of his tunic, the low throb of his heartbeat against you. However, you noticed the jump in beats as he wordlessly picked you up into his arms, the iron gauntlets against the thick nightgown on your body a rough but welcome sensation. You were easily dwarfed by his larger frame, a source of annoyance at times, and other times, it was like an unspoken treasure only for you. The creak of the iron wrought frame of the bed made you jump slightly, as his embrace reflexively tightened around you.

"Are you hurt?"

"Dalton, please."

"What happened?"

The first question was met with silence as his lips pressed against your temple. The second had gently lowering you down onto the mattress, looming above you now as he wordlessly stroked your cheek. Reverently, like he would have never seen it again.

"I resigned."

"Dalton!" Now that fatigue in his voice made you jolt upward, as your knees accidentally collided with his frame, provoking a low groan from his lips. Your hands quickly pulled him closer to you, hands curling into the short black hair that reminded you of a bear's coat. Or perhaps an ox would have been more accurate. This time there was little resistance from Dalton as your fingers gently brushed over bruised skin, a swollen left eyelid and who knew what other mess of injuries waited under his tunic. The sharp taste of iron against your tongue when his mouth met yours for the first time since his return. A split lip? A cut inside his mouth? You wouldn't find out tonight, not with the way his hands had begun to pull at your nightgown. Sometimes it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. ~The Morning After~

"You look like shit." You muttered as you pressed a hot cloth against the dark purple bruise underneath Dalton's left eye. A low groan coming from him as you lightly pressed against his ribs, but at least his breathing wasn't any heavier. A few fractures at least as you wordlessly thanked whatever gods were listening that your husband had been so stupid to eat a Devil Fruit. A Zoan type, the psychological change seemed to allow Dalton to be..sturdier than most humans. Or perhaps it was a mere act.

"I know. At least, I think Wapol has had his fill of me. For now." Dalton rumbled as your eyes went wide with alarm. His right hand quickly grabbed your free one and squeezed it with a hint of a smile on his split lip. Wapol, the name send both a shiver of fear and anger down your spine as you pressed the wet cloth to his bruised face. It was why Dalton had insisted on building the cabin you both called home in a remote part of one of Drum's many wooded areas. The further away from 'civilization' the better as you both knew that Wapol's thirst for cruelty could only be sated for so long.

"Sleep." You whispered as your fingertips lightly grazed his face, pulling away the stern expression of a solider into one of an exhausted man. His lips pressed against your palm as a smile pulled at your face, the first one in a long while. It was all too easy for you to scoot into the bed next to him as his face buried into your chest, mere seconds later the low rumble of snore coming forth.

~One Week Later~

A dark plume of smoke floated upward in stark contrast with the deep blue of the afternoon sky. Soldiers or something worse? Your nails sank deeper into the thick log of firewood you had been carrying into the cabin as your eyes met Dalton's as he stood in the doorway. The sharp sting of smoke was soon followed by the distinct scent of wood burning. No, the town of Gyasta burning as the wood clattered to the snowy dirt beneath your feet.

"We need to move." Dalton muttered as you could feel your heart leap into your throat at the dull statement.

"Easy, it will be okay."

A reassurance that didn't quite stifle the thudding of your heart, swallowing tightly when Dalton's lips pressed against your forehead. There wasn't much to pack, but still each minute ticking by felt like a noose hanging about your throat. A simple leather bag around your back, a quiver of arrows and a bow would all that you could manage as you turned to face the cabin that had once been your home.

"Storm's coming."

"Does that favor us or?"

"It depends how fast we are."

There was a heavier crunch of snow as four hooves sank into the white powder, a large bovine head lightly nudging you as you scrambled up the creature's shaggy hide. Your hands tangling into thick fur as you slightly swayed back and forth riding side saddle, it was comforting in it's own way. The low noise of snow crunching all the louder in the quiet woods. At least, it was until a low snort came from Dalton, his bulk coming to stop as you worried looked around. The sharp crack of a gunshot broke through the treeline, sending you tumbling to the snow.

"Easy, easy" You hissed under your breath as your hands hastily grabbed Dalton's face, forcing dark eyes to look into yours. You didn't release your grip, holding onto the shaggy fur of his neck to prevent him from charging off. Not even when a sound akin to a growl rumbled deep in the bison's chest directed at the distinct sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.

Cruel laughter sent a chill down your spine, unfamiliar but cruel all the same. A faint whimper slipped from your lips as you stared up at the laughing man, with a beard thick and black as the smoke from earlier. Next to him stood the apparent gunman as a faint wisp of smoke drifted from the tip of the rife in his hands.

"A woman?" The rifleman's voice flat with disinterest.

"and her far more interesting pet. Look at the size of that creature. Who knows what other monsters are lurking on this island. Ah looks like it isn't merely a dull beast of burden, you can all but see the rage in his eyes."

Your nails sank deeper into the thick fur of Dalton's full form as his head swung about in agitation. Nose flaring in a direct challenge towards the strangers. The gleam of white horns catching in the air with a low whistling noise as another rumble came from his chest.

"Dalton, Dalton..easy.." You whispered fervently against his ear, knowing his sensitive ears would hear it.

" Perhaps she is a herbalist, Drum is known for it's medical knowledge, captain."

"Is it now? What good is that gonna do me? I seek treasure not some bitter plants and tears of some woods woman. As..charming as it may look on that face." The captain's words turned into a low leer as you were now acutely aware that all the fur and hides wouldn't be able to conceal you from his dark eyes. However, that didn't mean that Dalton's stocky bison form couldn't as he daringly planted himself between the captain's gaze and you. Provoking another bark of laughter from the captain and a smirk from the rifleman at the creature's protective stance.

"Treasure? The people of Drum have long since scrounged for any bit of coin and wealth since the accession of King Wapol. It's said the royal vaults of the castle gleam like fresh fallen snow, piles of gold and riches. You will only find bitter plants, angry beasts and frightened women down here." A hint of a tremble in your voice as you peered around the dark hide of Dalton's much to his displeasure with a snort.

"Down here? So, we must go up, and how would one accomplish that, little woman?" The rifleman quipped as the spectacles on his narrow face glinted in the afternoon sun.

"Gondola, there is a gondola that goes straight up to Drum Castle. The easiest way up, as long as you aren't afraid of heights. Just head north."

The captain grinned, revealing several missing teeth as he reached into his red coat pocket. A small den den mushi shivered in the colder temperature. Yet the cold would do little to stop the man from barking orders over the receiver. The message was answered with single low 'yes' followed by the final click of the call. A low gag slipped from your lips as a large hand seized your throat, the cold burn of metal against your skin as the grip tightened for a moment. The loud bellow of Dalton as his horns swung towards the captain's hand, the distinct sting of gunpowder as the rifleman fired a warning shot into the creature's shoulder.

"Dalton." You wheezed out as your hands frantically fought against the captain's grip, dropping to the snow in a coughing fit when he did release you. The harsh cold stung your lungs, but it was nothing to the hot splash of blood that you tried to halt as it dripped from Dalton's shoulder. Steam drifting into the air as you bit down on your lip.

"Think of that bullet in your pet as a reminder of what I, we, will do if you are lying to us girl. Now out of the way." The captain snarled as you hastily did as you were told, lightly pulling on Dalton's right horn to bring him with you into the cover of some pine trees. Minutes felt like a lifetime as you tried to ignore the cooling blood against your palm, the heaving shudder of Dalton's massive hide as his head swung side to side in conflict.

"I think, they're gone.."

"You stupid woman, you could have been killed, I could have wat-"

The low growl of the bison's voice turned into a huskier tone of a human man as fur turned to tunic. The dripping wound of the gunshot changing into a trickle, covered by the metal plating of his shoulder guard. A low groan of pain coming from Dalton as he reflexively rolled said shoulder, doing his best to ignore the fresh stream of tears dripping from your face. Said resistance all but crumbled within seconds as you wordlessly pressed your face to his chest, your silent cries turning into heaving sobs that wreaked your frame. The gentle crackle of leather his gloved hands pulled you closer from the briefest second before stepping away.

"Dalton. I-"

"We need to make it to Bighorn, at least there will be some fortifications there."

You didn’t do surprises. It wasn’t because you didn’t enjoy the time and effort it took to keep things quiet, but the unfortunate fact that Shanks managed to ‘discover’ them early every single time. Even when you kept things under lock and key in your own private office on the Red Force, the curious man managed to sneak a glance at your plans. It was maddening beyond words as he would just smile that sincere smile, press a kiss to your temple, and leave you to stew in your fury. It wasn’t fair like your lover had a sixth sense in ruining your fun.

Until tonight, you would win the battle this time or go down in flames trying. Now, if only you could keep an aloof attitude as the gradual chaos of the bar began to escalate around you. You none too discreetly passed over a large purse of berri to the bar’s owner as you both watched a trio of beer glasses shatter from an errant fist pounding the table over a hand of cards.

“Just..let me know the damage in the morning..” You muttered apologetically as the barkeep nodded stiffly before shoving the purse into his apron. Evidently, you had failed to keep that calm aura as a single arm curled around your waist, kissing gently on the side of your neck. A faint hum of disapproval skittered over your skin when the sour expression on your face didn’t budge. Every single moment the crew decided to up the ante, you could all but imagine the clinking of berri trickling down the drain. The tragic fate of a bookkeeper on a pirate crew meant that someone had to be fiscally responsible, or else it would be hardtack and gruel for months.

“Come on, it was a big score. Can you blame them for wanting to blow off a bit of steam..” Shanks grumbled as you tried to resist the urge to fidget when his hand cheekily squeezed your thigh. Once in a teasing manner and the second in a far more inquisitive way as your right leg shifted restlessly. The faintest jingle of the golden string around your ankle as the light overhead caught the reflection of the small trio of rubies between the golden beads. The bait worked like a charm as Shank’s focus went from your legs down to your feet. Thin sandals strapped to them, plain in comparison to the little anklet.

“That’s new..”

“Uh-huh.” You deadpanned as you saw your red-headed lover try to connect the missing pieces of some unseen puzzle. His dark eyes flickered from your ankle to your upper legs before leaning close to you within kissing distance as you took advantage to chastely press his lips to yours. The twitch of his face gave away a content smile that graced his features as you idly tapped your nails against his left cheek.

“So, is there anything else that is new to you?” Shanks asked in a singsong tone, and you rolled your eyes at his impatience. It was obvious you had something up your sleeve, and now he was going to go about prodding it with a verbal stick until he sprung the trap early.

“Well, if you think the crew can be without their brave leader for the rest of the evening, I can-”

“Done. Beckman, try to not let the lads get too out of control.” Shanks barked over his shoulder to his second mate, who gave a twitch of his cigarette in response to the order. You were quickly dragged out of the bar by your hand as you tried to stifle your laughter with little success. 

“Shanks, this isn’t the-ah” 

Your protest turned into a pitched whimper as Shanks took full advantage of the solid door behind you. The hot press of his lips against your throat was doing wonders for making you lose your train of thought. Another whine spilled from your lips when his knee pressed between your legs in a silent request for you to spread them apart. Now, his hand was dangerously close to the edge of your pants as your little noises seemed to be spurring his desire despite your best efforts.

“Shanks, this isn’t the surprise..” You uttered in a single rush of words before your own lust betrayed you. Shit, shit, you could all but feel the heat cross your face as his darkened gaze pierced through you. The light brush of his face against your jaw as he pressed the lightest of kisses to it, trying to coax further out of you as you seemed to fumble with your following words.

“Just..turn around..and look at the floor..” You asked weakly

“Turn around, and you bring me to your office to clean up a bit of spilled papers,” Shanks whined as he did as he was asked, and before him was a small collection of paperwork. A few lines were written here and there, nothing too important as you had been very selective in choosing. 

“Seems like I lost all the strength in my hands. I needed my strong and durable Captain to do it for me. I’ll make it worth your while,” you purred as you lightly shoved him forward with a smile. At least he was willing to play along. He sighed deeply like a child asked to do a simple chore, but he still began the tedious task of shuffling the paperwork about on the floor.

Your steps were light and precise as you perched on the edge of your desk, watching him work. His eyes occasionally glanced up at you as you clicked your tongue, silently requesting him to focus on the task. 

“It’s a surprise, Shanks, you can’t just-” You grumbled.

“Fine, I’ll ignore that the top button of your blouse is undone for your sake. But you can’t expect me to ignore-fuck, what are you-” 

Shank’s words turned into a low hiss of surprise as you flashed him a bright grin; now, this was a reaction you had hoped for. Your nails clicked against the three remaining buttons as the edge of your ‘surprise’ peaked out from behind the white fabric. Your breasts nestled between three strings of pearls, giving some coverage but not enough to hide their lower swell. The light drag of the pearl’s cool surface against your nipples made your breath hitch for a split second as you could see Shank swallow quickly in response.

You were grateful that you had the foresight to start a small fire before the evening’s event went down. It was cozy in the room despite the ‘clothing’ that covered your upper torso. The white blouse slid off your shoulders with ease as you finished undoing the last button. You tilted your head to the side in a silent question as the string of pearls rubbed against one another at the movement.

“Surprised?” You teased as Shanks, speechless for the first time since you met, could only manage a single nod before hastily dropping the papers in his hand to quickly bury his face between your breasts with an apologetic muttering as you let out a slight squeal of surprise. 

“Don’t break it, I spent time choosing each one..” You protested weakly as his teeth grazed over the top section of pearls, contemplating whether he should bite down. Thankfully, he did manage to have some restraint as he settled for something else entirely. His hand cupped your left breast, and you could hear his muffled curses at the sight before his tongue snaked inside the material to tease at your peaked nipple. Now it was your turn to muffle noises as your hands sank into his scalp, urging him forward with harsher hair tugs.

“There’s more if you. Shanks!” 

Your words edged on scolding as the idea of ‘more’ seemed to snap the last bit of patience in the pirate. He wordlessly but gently pushed you down onto the desk, your back flat against it as he effortlessly removed the belt from around your waist. However, he paused to lean over your prone form to give you a gentle kiss that made your heart do a series of flips. His roguish grin dampened the aura of romance as his pointer finger dipped underneath the single copper button holding the pants in place.

“Well, doesn’t the pirate want to see more treasure..” You hummed

“I’m already looking at it..” Shanks retorted as you girlishly giggled at the line with a roll of your eyes. He quickly slid the trousers off, following the tantalizing sound of his belt and clothing joining the mess on the floor. 

“Fuck, how did you manage-” Shanks hissed as his hand slid over the curve of your hip. Fingers lightly pulling at the duo of pearl strings taunt against your hip bone, admiring the cold sheen against your warm skin. The sensation of rough fingertips brushing over your form sent goosebumps rippling down you as Shanks’s inspection continued, the tip of his erect cock twitching with each new inquisitive touch.

“Now this. I definitely don’t want to break.” Shanks groaned as your legs spread a bit further to coax him in closer. You knew you were dripping with want as the off-white color pooled with a faint elasticity around the clutch of pearls positioned over your center before dangling downward to provide some concealment of your sex. 

“There’s a tie on my right hip-oh gods, don’t-” 

Your warning was too late as his fingers slid underneath the clutch of pearls, dragging his entire palm over your sex to smear your arousal over your wanting clit. It was all you could do with a clumsy hand to find the troublesome tie yourself as his fingers began to set a rigorous pace. Teasing the bundle of nerves with a hint of a smirk yo,u could feel your body twitch this way and that as your arousal was stoked. 

“Faster, please. Just like that!” You panted with a pitch as you could feel the heat in your stomach begin to turn all the hotter as you tried to brace yourself by your elbows. Your panting filled the room as you tried to fight off the waves of pleasure for a few moments more before sinking into the blissful abyss. Your eyes fluttered with the faintest bit of acknowledgment as Shanks pressed the kisses in between the valley of your breasts, you could feel the high of your orgasm curl around you like a warm blanket.

“So, were you surprised?” You muttered as Shank’s low chuckle was all you needed to hear. 

Finally, you got your victory.

Hell was a fucked up place. Like watching your neighbor get devoured by a roving pack of cannibals sort of daily occurrence. Murder and mayhem went hand in hand. Yet, somehow that rush of adrenaline was preferred to your current situation. Buried under a mound of blankets, winter clothes and anything else to make a nest in as you sulked in the depths of fabric. Spoiled, you had gotten spoiled since Velvette took you in. A thin little stray that happened to fall into the satin lap of luxury. All because you intrigued the Overlord one day. Your powers wreaking havoc on Vox’s spy network of technology as you blipped in and out of existence. However, that talent came with certain limitations rapidly draining your energy if you stepped ‘out’ for too long. It wasn’t long before you had been cornered by an irate Vox and a few select underlings, the technomancer screeching about a raging headache over the phone.

Vox wanted your head, Valentino wanted your body to break on camera and Velvette, well she found you fascinating. Cameras flashed in your face as soon she met you, provoking the question on social media. Who was Hell’s Cheshire? A thief, a backstabber and all other lovely connotations. Eventually, the youngest Overlord settled on something else entirely, a useful tool for her arsenal of networks. Able to slip in and out unnoticed if you chose so and entirely willing to come at the ring of bell.  Most of the time.

Your phone had been buzzing non stop since Hell went back online after Vox’s tantrum. You couldn’t imagine the headache that Velvette had to sort out for hours after.  Patching up rumors and demolishing negative news with a flick of her fingers.  It was fascinating watching her work from home as data zipped across the screen in a dazzling display of lights. Pushing trends for Voxtek, doxxing competition with scathing inbox drops and above all keeping her own social media red hot. Your distaste for that particular task was evident as you dodged the socialite’s flashing phone at all hours. The Overlord’s photo album was like a riddle of segmented body parts. A flash of your stomach getting inked with a fresh bloom of daisies, followed by a blurred hand reaching out to take the offending object.

There was a quiet ding of the penthouse elevator as the pile of clothes shifted an inch with your movement.  Moving a scarf out of the way, you now had the perfect vantage to see Velvette streaming as soon as she left the elevator with a bright smile. 

“Apologies about the little system update to the electrical grid lovelies. As you can see we are now back online!  Please reset your Voxbox if further problems continue. We here at Voxtek hope to continue providing our best quality service.” Her voice was sugary sweet as your ears flicked waiting to hear the break in her act.

Five.

The small melodic beep as the stream ended.

Four.

The defiant click of the phone shutting.

Three.

A sigh.

Two.

The smallest click of heels against the floor as Velvette walked towards the couch.

One.

The delightful stream of profanity that was screamed into a pillow. 

“THAT MOTHER FUCKING TWAT GOT HIS KNICKERS IN A TWIST ALL BECAUSE OF THE OLD FUCK BEING BACK. KNOCKED OUT THE SYSTEMS AND HIMSELF FOR THREE HOURS. DOES HE HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I HAD TO MANAGE THAT MESS” Velvette’s yowl bounced around the penthouse as you could almost see the steam coming off her head.

“Babes, are you listening to ME!” Velvette shrieked at your cloth fortress of solitude as you reached your hand out in a supportive thumbs up. It wasn’t enough as you hear the distinct sound of glass shattering as something heavy had been launched at the elevator’s glass door. It dinged in submission as Velvette let out another shriek of rage. 

Now was the time to intervene before she grabbed another object to destroy as you hastily shot your hand out to grab her by the wrist. Her expression twisted in surprise as she was pulled into your pillowy sanctuary. A low purr rumbled in your chest as her floral perfume curled around you. Her heartbeat thudded against you as your cat-like pupils dilated from the close contact as she heaved a heavy sigh before curling under your chin. Now an air of calm floated about the shelter as darkness and your rumbling purr enveloped the enclosed space.

“Hello, you. Seems like you had a hard day.” You muttered as Velvette exhaled through her teeth as if you couldn’t have chosen the most delicate word for it.  No, you knew from her more colorful vocabulary she had far more words to describe it. 

“And what did you do? Take cat-naps through the entire shitshow? Must have been nice.” Velvette said tartly as you lightly carted your sharp nails through her hair. You didn’t want to pick a fight, not if she was already so burnt out from the affairs of the day.

“I spent my time building this after the power went out. Can’t stand the cold you know.” You hummed. Velvette rolled her eyes as she knew better than most that you needed climate control to be comfortable. It was a myth that Hell was boiling inferno. Even if it was, your plane shifting seemed to keep an icy grip on your soul as if wanting to drag down with it instead of allowing you to leave.

“Oh, the poor lamb, what a hardship.” Velvette’s words would have cut through the hardiest of steel, but for you, the dripping sarcasm rolled off your back with a nonchalant shrug. You did hiss in protest as she cruelly kicked off a stabilizing pillow from the stack.  It all came down in a slow tumble as your arms curled around Velvette who let out a protesting whine. She was taking away your source of heat, she better be willing to provide her body heat as a compromise.

“You’re hopeless. You know that.” Velvette muttered as a faint smile ticked over your features. What happened to that wry stray Demon that evaded the Vees for months. Forcing them to ‘old’ and ‘outdated’ methods of tracking in person. All because your talent piqued their interest. 

“Hm. I wouldn’t say that. I managed to keep you here.” You muttered as Velvette’s lips met yours. Gentle, soft, a silent reprieve from the madness of the world outside. Pain flicked from your ears as her fingers prodded the latest piercing at the tip of the pale ear. The cat-like features were a delicious irony from your death. Drowned in a sack like a litter of unwanted kittens. All because you had owed a drug dealer a bit too much, well, stole, thumbed the cops at him. Nasty business it was as it took months for you not to flinch at the sound of running water.

Unfortunately, keeping up your hygiene is more important compared to other demons. Your skin itches like it was swarmed by mosquitoes if you let the practice get away from you. A fucking Sphynx’s skin accompanied a bare tail and fuzzed ears. If it weren’t for the benefits of your stealth, you would have gone mad a long time ago. Much to Velvette’s fashion distaste, you preferred full body coverage of sweaters, dress suits and the like. Anything to keep your sensitive skin from the outside world. 

“Testing a new experiment again? Velvette questioned as your pierced ear flicked irritated as her sharp nail ran over the reddened skin. A low hum answered her question as you gently redirected her probing hands to the edge of your sweater. Her gentle smile turned a tick towards feral as her hands slipped under the fabric, nails dragging over the sensitive skin of your stomach. It was almost a sheer reflex as your back arched underneath her touch, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure at her touch.

“Off. I want to see.” Velvette barked as her impatient hands pulled at the fabric, easing it over your head with a single pull. Your body was a canvas for ink from piercing black to bursts of bright colors. Inky flowers planted in your fleshy parchment as Velvette’s eyes flicked over older works, trying to find the newest flower in the garden.  A small singular tulip curled around your third right rib as her nail tapped it as you confirmed with a nod at her guess.

“Seems like a bit too purple, babes.” Velvette critiqued as a sigh escaped you.  It had been far too long since either of you had seen the thing, but of course she remembered them as a dull little thing. 

“If you insist, mistress of gardens.” You retorted with a grin. Velvette soon collapsed into a fit of giggles as you and her had shared plenty of woes about your pasts. Neither of you could grow anything green worth shit. All it took was a single glance for the flourishing flower to turn brittle and lifeless the next day.  While you seemed to be overwatering or underwatering, memory turned into mush as soon as you got your fix. 

Now in your afterlife, only the tattoo artist’s needle plucked away at your skin. Contaminating the sensitive pigment in an array of colors. It did seem to help or was it merely a placebo effect. Regardless, it was an interesting pastime to have as Velvette was more than willing to start off sketches or chime in about color patterns. What would you do after the canvas was full? Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. The regenerative properties of Sinners were infamous after all. 

“I know that look. We aren’t trying that yet.” Velvette protested as she jabbed a pointed nail into your cheek. A weary sigh escaped you as your past issues with your skin didn’t need to rear its head back into the quiet moment. The look of horror and shock on her face when she discovered you in the midst of flashback, sharp nails digging into the flesh of your arm. Dragging it down to tear through skin and muscle. Pain grounded you, you weren’t stuck in that bag, lungs bursting, wanting one more gasp of air that never came.

“I am sure one of the geniuses at Voxtek would be able to figure out some sort of anesthesia process” You proposed as Velvette’s smile flickered to a frown. Right, work was a touchy subject as you cupped her pouting cheeks with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Your tail elegantly twisting out her reach as you stood up from the couch, leaving her sulking against the cushions with a huff.

“I’ll run us a bath? We can use one of those glittery bath bomb monstrosities you insisted on buying last week.” You proposed as you turned the corner into the master bedroom, rolling your eyes at the loud squeal of joy that echoed after you. Double oak doors lead to the grand bathroom as numerous skin care products littered both sides of the countertop. Serums, lotions and the like, your nose wrinkled as something lilac had been spilled earlier in the morning. 

It was sheer reflex for you to suck in air through your teeth as you turned the brass knobs on the jacuzzi-like tube. At least your hands shook less as you eased off your sweater. Your tail swished in warning as you heard the faintest click of the camera. Velvette and her fucking photos as you held out your hand in a silent request. 

“It isn’t a bad shot, Lette. “ You praised as she smugly smiled at your approval. The cream background of the bathroom title, stark green of sweater and the pale gray of your skin. All drew the viewer's eye to the bramble of crimson roses and sharp thorns encircling your upper back. From brambles, pale forget-me-nots caressed the side of your breast, tiny yellow pea flowers branching off downward. Most importantly, your face was covered by the fabric of the sweater being pulled over your back. You liked to keep what privacy you could when it came to living with the social media Overlord. 

“I did threaten to sew Valentino’s mouth shut after that comment he left last time.”

“Oh, aren't you sweet.” You cooed as her jealous streak ran as deep as the river Styx. She got to post you in all states of dishevelment with your approval. It sent gossipers into a frenzy trying to deduce who the Overlord’s lover was. All while Velvette dropped several keywords into each post about this product or that. Sex sold afterall, it was something she and the pimp moth agreed upon. 

“He did speak to me about copycat videos though. Just to stir up a little tizzy with the clientele.” Velvette yawned as you rolled your eyes at the notion. Tattoos were unique from each stroke and you paid your artist an extraordinary privacy fee to keep the designs private. Now, it would be amusing to see Velvette pitch a fit in the pimp’s private studio as she critiqued each little ‘paint job’ on the copycats. Did Valentino want to make you look like a cheap fucking whore. Velvette wouldn’t let that stand as expenses and delays piled up around theoretical productions that made the moth demon’s head spin. 

“Oh, now that is just cruel, love.” You teased as Velvette smiled wickedly before rummaging in one of the lower cabinets beneath the sink. Clapping her hands together as she presented her find as your ears went flat in displeasure. Oh, it was going to be a glittery mess as she ‘accidentally’ dropped the orb into the warm water. 

“You know I would be running for the hills if it was any other day.” You grumbled as she flashed you a bright grin before reaching for the button of your slacks. Carefully stepping out the attire, you skittishly kept out of reach of her groping hands. 

“Yes, I touched up my thighs. You don’t need to guess that.” You scoffed as Velvette’s gaze flickered over the pristine white petals of the moon flower. It’s dark vines crawling up your upper thighs as its flowering bud bloomed over your navel. Right above the soft curls of your sex. 

“So, I don’t get to touch it?” Velvette pouted softly

“Not with your kit on, I don’t need another lecture on what water and other fluids can do to the material.” You tutted as you spun your finger around in a silent suggestion for her to turn around. Buttons, so many fucking buttons started from her tailbone to the back of her neck as you diligently undid the snaps with practiced patience. There wasn’t a need to rush as you could see goosebumps prickle down tanned skin as a single finger brushed over her spine. 

“Oh fuck this-”

“Lette, don’t you dar-”

Your warning was an absolute failure as her arms curled around your waist, sending both of you tumbling into the vast bath. Your eyes turned into thin slits as you emerged from the water, trying to keep your breathing at slow and even pace. The gentle ripple of water as your tail lashed about with irritation as Velvette leaned comfortably against the ramp-like edge of the bath. 

“Oh, you look like some sort of garden fairy, Babes, very aesthetic.” Velvette cooed as you glanced down at your soaked form. Glitter, so much fucking glitter stuck to your tattoos, your hair, and you didn’t dare ask where else it clung to.

“I hate it. I am throwing out all those damn bath bombs as soon as your back is turned.” You threatened as Velvette scoffed at the seriousness of your tone. Her finger crooked asking you to come closer as you did with a huff.   

“This is going to take forever to get off.” You hissed as Velvette’s body gleamed with the fragments of glitter. Your thumb gently rubbing over her lower lip as the sparkle refused to give way to the gentle pressure. 

“So, you better get to work then.” Velvette teased as she leaned further back against the cool surface, her eyes dilating as your fingers ran over a dusky nipple. Pretty little things, round and firm, but no larger than the center of your palm. The softest cooing sound slipped from her lips as the rough surface of your tongue dragged over the center of her left breast. For what felt like the hundredth time in a row, the tantalizing idea of little glimmering bar bells drifted lazily through your mind. 

“You know. It would amplify-”

“It would limit my looks, babes. No. Once again. Ah fuck, do that swirling thing again.” Velvette’s protest shifted into a whine as your tongue twisted against her pert nipple. Her legs all but curled around your wet and glittery form as if it would bring you any closer. You could feel her heartbeat thud under your finger twists as it stuttered when your sharp canines dragged over the edge of her breast. Her plait form softened with each touch as the stress of the day melted away from her.

This was your Velvette. Brash, crude with an unbreakable will of steel, but at the same time, she all but melted under your attention. Until you chipped away at the sharp exterior to reveal the quiet creature beneath the rampant demands of her work. Her lips parting as her tongue curled over your fingertips. Goosebumps curled over her form as the cool saliva traced down her stomach, brushing aside the little fluff of curls as her legs twitched from the first contact with her clit.

“I can be extraordinarily convincing.” You muttered against her lips as you kissed into her smirk. Her mouth opened in a quiet pant as friction dragged over her clit. Slow measured strokes as you wanted to draw her out like a taut string. At least at first before you sent her galloping over the edge as her fingers dragged through your scalp when your toying flickered counterclockwise.

“Don’t do that.” Velvette hissed as you winked cheekily before reverting back to the same pattern. Of all things, she liked your touch in a consistent motion as she could feel each bump in her road to the ultimate goal. 

“Hey, no, wait-” Velvette let out a small yelp of protest as you slid her further back onto the edge of the tub. A mere inch away from falling as her legs spread further apart trying to brace herself on the inside of the tub. You brushed against her cunt’s curl as cat-like eyes blinked lazily up at her. A silent request that was answered as her hand slid over the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

The little bundle of nerves felt like something different every time. The little ridges engorging in an endless unrecognizable pattern as your tongue swiped against it. Your own excitement rising as Velvette’s sharp nails felt prickly against your sensitive neck. Her delighted cry when your attention shifted a little to the left, the scent of her fluids lingered on your face as her orgasm built. The involuntary shudder of her thighs around your face as your hand slid up her stomach feeling it snap back and forth like a bow string. 

“Close, close, close-” Velvette’s words turned into a quiet chant as her voice reached a new octave as your lips sealed around the throbbing nerves. The harsher pressure was all that was needed to topple the last bit of restraint as her insides burst with white hot heat. Your tongue brushed over her core to taste the almost sweet nectar as she weakly tried to protest with a wave of her hand.

Oh, she was out of it as her legs went flat against the tub. Her hormone flooded mind , breaking the chain of command to her muscles as she let out the smallest of cries as gravity took over.  You could only watch in surprise as she fell backwards out of the bath, head first as her crumpled form shuddered with surprised giggles.

“Shit, sorry, I-” Your apology was cut off by her sweet kiss, her perfumed hair falling in your face as she deepened the kiss. All it took was the smallest shove like a stalk in the breeze to allow her to crawl into your lap. Glitter be damned, nothing could interrupt the moment as wet skin felt like silk against you.

All except the telltale chirping of Velvette’s phone as it obviously sang out it’s little song.

“Fuck, don’t-” You protested as Velvette scrambled off you with a new sense of urgency. Her shining backside dripped water as she clawed at a towel with exasperation upon seeing the caller id on the glowing screen.  The telltale jabs of her fingers as she typed a scathing text, only for a chirp to follow moments later.

“MOTHERFUCKER, NOW. HE WANTS-” 

“Bath is over, I am guessing.” You deadpanned as Velvette’s agitated expression flickered like a dancing flame as you swept past her with a single kiss on her pouting cheek. Despite your clothing restrictions, somehow your closet always seemed close to bursting as you idly ran your fingers over the dark blue cloth of a suit. Freezing as damp hands slid along your waist, Velvette’s lips gentle against the back of your neck in a silent apology.

“It happens Lette, I get it.” You hummed as you could her lips twitch from a pout to a smile against your skin. 

“A tie is a must, babes. How about that red one?” She proposed as she waved you aside to do what she did best. Making you absolutely stunning for the entire Pride ring to fry their brains over and then some cells for good measure. Her fingers were gentle as she smoothed out the collar of your blouse before buttoning the suit jacket with a satisfied pat.

“Studs or small hoops, you think?” You asked as Velvette’s gaze blinked up from her phone for a moment before holding up a single finger. The golden studs it was then as you knew there wasn’t going to be a word out of her until she returned to the office. The blue glow of the screen was impossible to ignore as you strained your neck to try and make sense of the rapid flicker of data. The strength of her taps increases with each swipe and view as her left cheek twitches in silent irritation.

It wasn’t at your conspicuous spying, no it was about the absolutely shoddy camera work of the source. Like it was filmed on a flip phone for Hell’s sake as you could make out the barest minimum of details in the footage. A massive red building, hazy smoke and something else that flickered like disjointed images.

“Was..that a wall?” 

“Yes.”

“And what the fuck is zipping across the screen like sooty tumbleweeds.”

“A fucking headache. That’s what.” Velvette growled as the ride to the office remained quiet after that. Your polished Oxford’s tip brushing comfortingly over her bare ankle as the motor of the limo broke through the small clicks of the keyboard. Oh, she was pissed as you couldn’t help but count the beat of her heels on the floor as she threw open the conference doors.

“NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. I WAS DOING THINGS.” Velvette demanded as you leaned against the door as a silent shadow. The coffee cup near Vox threatened to topple over when Velvette’s fist struck the table as her answers didn’t come as fast as the texts she sent.

“Don’t get yourself all worked up, babydoll. Seems like those things are willing to wait.” Valentino grinned as you could all but feel his scrutinizing gaze see through you like you weren’t dressed in a three piece suit, undershirt and another camisole for good measure. Or was it the flickering sheen of glitter on your throat. Its’ sparkle defiantly pierces the dark seeds of the sunflower’s center, its pale yellow petals dragging over your jugular.

“Not important.” Velvette snapped as Valentino chuckled through an exhale of smoke as he gestured the cigarette holder towards Vox who’s fingers steepled together with a twitch of impatience.

“So, as you can guess, our little loser of a spy was caught out-”

“The fucking failure failing, call me shocked.” Velvette deadpanned as she waltzed in one of the free chairs, immediately placing her feet on the desk with a cool expression. Oh, she was pulling out all the stops to irritate Vox as you quickly hid your smile behind a cough.

“Yes. But we still need surveillance on that flophouse of a hotel. Fucking prick made it clear that he wasn’t going to let something on the inside in terms of video feed. Gave me a fucking headache when I tried to-”

“Yes, yes, we know the Radio Demon seems to have sixth sense for you. Aren’t you special?” Velvette jabbed as Vox’s expression shifted from neutral to stiffening irritation. Her painted nails clicked against the firm metal of the desk as her smirk crawled onto her features.

Waiting. She was waiting for the control freak’s nerves to settle. Before dragging the proverbial dagger over his heart as Vox fixed his perfectly straight type.

“We need-”

“Not the correct word, darling.” Velvette sang out as Valentino let out a dry chuckle as there was a glitch in Vox’s screen for a split second. She intended to make this as painful as possible as your ears twitched in anticipation.

“Please have her-” The first word was spat like acid as Vox’s screen twisted in your direction. Almost uncomfortably slow as you waggled your fingers at the compromising overlord.

“Observe the hotel from the streets while we come up with a better plan.” Vox growled as Velvette clapped her hands together in childish glee as if she were a spoiled child being given a new toy. 

“Done.” Velvette chirped as her arm craned up with her phone. Snapping a selfie of her, with the piercing red edge of your tie in the background. #Takeyourbabestoworkday #Voxtech #IWIN, the post hit the ground running as you approached the table, arm resting atop the chair with a casual posture.

“Not done.” You retorted

“But-”

“No more glitter bath bombs. Shit is sticking to my tongue like sand” You muttered as Velvette rolled her eyes but nodded all the same.

“Give me twenty-four hours then.” Your words came out like a slow haze as the cool sensation washed over your body. The first time it happened you thought you were dying again, but now it just felt like sinking into a cool bath. Within a blink of the eye, only the three Overlords remained.

“So, what exactly were you doing before this?” Valentino quiered with a lecherous grin as Velvette plucks a larger fragment of glitter from her hair with a scoff. 

The scent of rotting meat permeated the air like a thick perfume as you let out the quietest of excited yips. It finally bloomed after months of waiting and watching as you leaned closer to the cream-colored petals of the giant orchid. The inner depths speckled with crimson as the plant seemed to shudder at your closer inspection as if wanting to welcome you inside. It was just as you suspected another carnivorous plant for the books as you hastily scribbled the observation in your notebook. However, it wouldn’t thrive in Hell with it’s slow maturity phase, it would need to be crossbred with more via-

“Taking a little break, my little Bichon?” 

The gentle address startled you from your thoughts as you sheepishly smiled embarrassed at being caught from slacking off your duties. Goods didn’t transport themselves after all in the Seven Rings of Hell. It was a dangerous job, but someone had to do it as you tucked away the small book into your pant’s pocket. Straightening your cap, you clicked your heels together in a quiet greeting as Rosie giggled in amusement. 

“Apologies, mam. It’s just that-”

“Oh my stars. It bloomed overnight, I see.” Rosie’s words cut over your own as she clapped her hands together in excitement, grabbing you by the waist to turn you back around to admire the flower. You could feel your heart leap into your throat at the gentle touch as Rosie cooed over the flower’s progress and vibrant shade. 

“No wonder you wandered into the garden, Bichon. It’s lovely!” Rosie hummed as you quietly nodded your head in agreement. It’s how your unlikely friendship started afterall. Several months ago, picking up a mail order from Cannibal Town, it was impossible to resist the urge to wander about trying to track the unique scent of the Overlord’s garden. A lush bloom of nature and greenery within the Pride Ring that could rival the hanging gardens of Gluttony. Diligently tended by the lady herself as if were her own children.

“But how did you manage to figure it out, mam. Last time it looked so..sad” You asked as Rosie’s smile brightened flashing sharp pointed teeth. 

“All it took was a little bit of positivity, my Bichon. Well, B positive. Seems the soil was a bit too dry for our delicate specimen here.” Rosie explained as the heel of her shoe dug into the brownish dirt. The small impact provoked the faintest puddle of crimson that rapidly retreated back into the earth. The bodies of Sinners had more uses than food in Cannibal Town.

“Now, come with me. I need to give you something.” Rosie insisted as she grabbed you by your paw without hesitation. Once more your heart did that stupid flip flop sensation as you tried to ignore the funny sensation, but even that didn’t stop your tail from giving the smallest of wags. 

“Oh now, don’t get anxious. You’ll like this even more than the flower.” Rosie tutted as she mistook your excitement for anxiety. Still, it was a shame as greenery was exchanged for the ceramic floors of the shop. At least it was well-lit as sunlight flitted through the glass interior as you watched Rosie rifle through various storage cabinets with a determined expression. 

“My offer still stands on helping you declutter, Miss Rosie.” 

There was a clatter of muffin tins and small decorative metal cookie designs as the Overlord swept them aside with a kick of her shoe. She was almost inside the lower cabinet as you leaned further over the counter as your ears twitched at the various noises of shifting items. A bell? Something metallic rubbing against another. A strangely enticing squeak?

“All things are worth keeping, Bichon. You never know when- Ah ha!” 

Your eyes went wide as you smelled the item before it was gently set down on the counter. She wasn’t going-, no, you couldn’t.

“I insist. Think of it as a favor for ol’ Rosie. I know you can make it thrive, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she lightly pushed the small burlap sack closer to your stunned form. Even within the protective material, you could still smell the faint metallic scent of the seedling. It’s what drew your attention to its’ parent in the first place as you and Rosie organized seeds one day. In comparison to its’ dramatic parent, the seed itself was a dull green color with a thin shell. So thin that you worried its protective coating would flake away before the plant grew enough roots to properly set in the hard earth.

“But Rosie what if-”

“It fails to thrive? Then, we’ll come up with another plan, my dear.” Rosie promised as she gently pried open your closed paw to place the small sack in it. Gentle, she was so gentle as you were forced to look anywhere but at her. 

“I’ll give it my best then.” You promised as Rosie clapped her hands together in delight at your acceptance. There was the faintest chim of the shop’s greeting bell as Rosie rushed away to make quick conversation with the new guest. The small seed package in your hand still felt warm as you quickly tucked it away into your vest pocket. Next to your thudding heart as your keen gaze watched Rosie’s exaggerated hand gestures in her explanation to the guest.

“And the poor dearie thought that violet wouldn’t clash-”

Lively. It was one of the traits you admired in the woman, her seemingly endless supply of energy as it was rare for you to see her sit down. Her heels clicked against the floor as she placed another brown package of her guest as her hand idly waved towards you. The guest raised a brow, but nodded all the same before passing a sealed letter over to the shopkeep.

“Now, don’t you worry. It’ll get there within a day or two. Hellhound Couriers haven’t failed me yet.” Rosie chirped as she ushered the guest out with a flourish of her hand. While the other grabbed the letter off the counter without a second look. 

“Where’s it going?” You asked as you opened up the satchel looped over your shoulder. Its contents were depressingly small for the effort it took to get here. Traversing through the Rings could be exhausting and expensive from the impossibly slow crowds of Sloth commuters to the bolder pickpockets of Greed. 

“The Envy Ring. Something about a scorned love affair or something. She wasn’t exactly keen on the topic.” Rosie explained with a huff as the woman was a gossip hound at heart. Even as much as she denied it, stating it was mere conversation over tea and cake with a touch of theatrics. 

“Want me to try and get more info from the other party?” You suggested with a grin.

“Oh, you know me only too well, Bichon.” Rosie praised as she handed over the letter with a knowing look. It was a fair trade in the end as you knew that she too would be benefiting from advertising your services. Currency freely exchanging hands as Sinners weren’t exactly able to travel between the Rings compared to Hellborne.  At least half of your jobs came from the Pride Ring, it would have been even more if you took on more dangerous jobs like weaponry and drugs. Yet, you had seen too many of your fellow Couriers waylaid carrying those sorts of things. No, it’s why you stuck to letters, smaller packages and other less flashy deliveries.

Alarm shot through your form like an unpleasant shock as you spied the time on the wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the shop. Has it been that long? It seemed like merely an hour had passed since your arrival to the garden.

“Shit, Rosie, I’m sorry, I need to-” Your words rambled over each other as you hastily closed up your satchel.  Rosie shook her head with a gentle look, she knew what you meant to say as you quickly dashed out the door without another word.

Somehow, it made the small seed packet feel all the warmer against your chest.

Your quaint morning didn’t last long as another client slammed their door in your face. You could easily hear the curses directed towards your unexpected news through the door. What else did the Sinner expect from a loan shark in the Greed ring, clemency?  At least it was over and done with as you stepped out onto the cracked pavement of the street. It was almost second nature now to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as eyes followed your trail. 

Hellhounds weren’t unheard of in the Pride Ring, but it was a rarer occurrence. It didn’t help that your company’s logo was stitched on the back of your blue vest ‘Hellhound Couriers. Bones, bags and bodies, we’ll fetch it all.’ in stylized block lettering. At least, the rest of the uniform wasn’t too drastic as you ran a finger over the brim of the knitted cloche hat, smoothing it out. Black slacks tailored for Hellhounds alone as the seams of the ends flared out for larger paws. 

Your grip on the satchel tightened as your path was blocked by a pair of Sinners. Now the hair on the back of your neck was raised as the one with goat-like horns picked at sharp teeth with the tip of a knife. While the other held a casual nonchalant air about him, eyes piercing like serpents, but you could see the defined outline of a gun in his coat pocket. 

“I told you Jack, it’s funny thing.” 

“Oh, is it?” The goat retorted as you took a single step back. 

“Ya, we go looking for Hellhound and lookie here. Satchel n all.”

A low growl vibrated in your throat as the would-be thieves eyed you up and down. Fuck, it wasn’t like you couldn’t fight, but it would risk the packages. That wouldn’t do at all. What would the recipient of the lover’s letter from earlier think if the sincere words were stained with blood. 

“I don’t want trouble.” You hissed through clench teeth as your ears twitched at the loud click of the gun’s safety going off. 

“Well, our associates don’t want debts. So here we are. Now be a good little doggie and hand those papers over.” The goat sinner demanded as he held out his hand, only to pull it back with a sharp scream as your teeth clamped down on flesh and bone. The sudden pull made it even easier for you to vault over the injured man.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE, SHOOT.” The goat Sinner bleated as you could see him clutching the bleeding stubs of his pointer and index finger while his surprised associate scrambled with the gun.

A single loud crack broke through the air as you took a stuttered gasp of air. Fuck, your lungs burned even though the chase only begun. Blood blossomed over your vest as your shocked brain put two and two together, the bullet had pierced through your back and went out your chest. Hissing through the pain, you did your best to stifle the warm blood with your palm. It still dripped slowly onto the pavement as you scrambled into another alleyway. Copper hazily fogged your sense of smell as you tried to focus on anything but the wound. You needed a plan.

Quickly.

Another bullet thudded into the brick wall above your head as you willed your strained body to move once again. Blood, too much blood had been lost as you could feel the edges of your vision begin to flicker with black spots. Still, hope flickered in your chest as you caught sight of the familiar brass lettering of the gateway, all it was going to take was a few more steps. 

“Fuck.” The curse spilled from your lips half spoken and half in a howl as a bullet tore through your lower left leg. Your sharp nails dragged into the concrete below as you tried to pull yourself forward, even with the numbing sensation spreading throughout your body.

“Could have made this all the easier if you had given us the damn-” The goat sinner growled as you felt the cool tip of the gun brush over the tops of your ears. His words muddled as you feebly tried to shrink away from the weapon. His mocking laughter rang in your head as you weakly held on the satchel as it was ripped from your form. The noise stuttered to a halt as the pointed tip of a knife protruded from his eye, warm blood dripped onto your cold form as you could hear the soft shake of an umbrella.

“Now, now that isn’t necessary.” 

“You crazy bi-”

Another shriek pierced the air as the packed earth beneath you rumbled like a startled beast. Something wrapped around your midriff as it pulled you forward toward the gateway. You could feel the unintentional prick of thorns over your skin as the thing shuddered protectively before carefully setting you upright, still supporting you about your waist. 

Vines? You blinked rapidly trying to clear the fog from your vision as you lightly brushed over the foliage. Yes, vines as the thing shuddered as you accidentally pricked yourself on a sharp thorn allowing dark blood to drip over its’ green-brown ‘flesh’. 

“Now let’s take a look at you, looking a bit peaky, my little Bichon.”

“Rosie?”

Her gentle smile was the last thing you saw as the world was blanketed in darkness.

Soft. Warm. Too warm. You jolted upward as hot fire ripped through your chest from the exertion. Fuck, that was right, you had been shot, your sharp nails digging into your chest felt like a gentle caress compared to the throbbing muscle beneath it. 

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty.” The gentle voice was melodic in your ears as Rosie’s hands gently removed your tensed nails and held your paws in her own. You tried to speak, but your dried lips went mute as Rosie fussed over you. Holding cool water to your lips as you eagerly wet your parched throat. The back of her hand on your forehead as she tried to gauge the potential on-set for a fever.

She was taking care of you.

In her personal quarters.

In her bed.

“I removed the bullets, don’t fret. Seems like you are already healing up from that little misadventure, lamb.” Rosie tutted as she could see your eyes bounce around the room. It was surprisingly sparsely decorated.The bed, a modest wardrobe, a single bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase on the bedside table. The vase inhabits some sort of snapdragon that flared out with bright crimson petals.

The cool sheets did little to hide your flaming face as Rosie chuckled at your poor attempt to burrow yourself further under the cotton sheets. Anything to hide the pure scalding embarrassment of the disastrous day and having to be rescued by the Overlord of all people. 

“Honestly, those interlopers must have been desperate to get after you for entering the Town uninvited. Whatever could have set them off.” Rosie questioned as you muttered an answer in a half-hearted explanation about Greed Ring loan sharks and bills.  Or well coming due problems as you got a split second glance at the material when it was thrown back at your face.

“Ruffians. The lot of them. Going after my little Bichon like that. Well, Miss Tufele and Mr.Remius were delighted to have the late lunch-in. Gave me the most lovely of little tea cakes that we’ll-”

“I am sorry for causing you problems. Miss Rosie. It’s not becoming of my -”

“Hush.”

Your apology was cut off by a single finger against your muzzle as you went mute as commanded. Delicate, she was so gentle towards you as sharp nails brushed over your face. Treating you with as light a hand as a new sprout ready to be transplanted into the outside soil. Now a different sort of heat brushed through your fur, a slow warm ooze that started from the tips of your ears down to your toes. All because of a simple chaste kiss on your black snout as Rosie’s fingertips ghosted over your alert ears.

“Rosie, can I-” 

“Oh, sweet Bichon, even in your injured state of are all manners” Rosie teased as your tail wagged at the flirtatious inflection in her tone. Her girlish giggles were like the chimes of the most delightful bells as your lips met for a proper kiss. Short, sweet and to the point as her perfume fluttered over your form. She always did smell delightful, but now up close, it was like a banquet. Sweet smelling vanilla and the gentle notes of roses. The faintest taste of copper as you leaned in to deepen the kiss, , but at the same time you whined as your injured flesh twinged from the movement.

The sharper sound ended the kiss quickly as Rosie clucked her tongue at your hasty actions. 

“Now, there will be time for that later.”

You couldn’t help but sink dramatically into the pillows with a sigh as Rosie patted the top of your head with a chuckle.

“I promise.” Rosie muttered against the top of your ears as the sensitive things twitched from the brush of warm air against them. Still, you did as she asked and gave her a winning smile which she winked at. 

“Well, this is a change. Usually I can’t get you to sit and stay for the briefest second of calm. Always underfoot like a cat in the kitchen wanting to help me with something. Although, I do have a request, next time, show up at my doorstep unbloodied, bichon.” Rosie hummed as she flitted around the room. Opening up the window to let fresh air inside as the low rays of the sunset crept into the interior. 

“I’ll promise, Miss Rosie. Thank you..for..the..exciting day..” You promised as Rosie smiled that gentle sincere smile that made your heart flutter like a Hellhound pup over a bone.

“Think nothing of it, Bichon. Now how about a bit of tea?”

That’s how you spent the next few days. Sending apologetic letters to clients about needing to recuperate from unexpected delays. A few hesitant steps around the garden, Rosie on your arm giving encouragement. Piping hot tea and the little ginger cakes that you got to howl your praises over. Most memorable was the gentle kiss on your cheek as you left, satchel on your shoulder and a promise to come visit within the next few days.

Titles and Tribulations

Well, the hotel seemed to be structurally sound as you peered up at the gleaming windows. A far cry from the pile of rubble that once cluttered the ground. Sighing under your breath, you raised your fist to rap on the gleaming wooden surface of the double doors. Your stoic expression shifted into surprise as your knock met bare air instead of solid wood. Followed by a piercing squeal of excitement as you found yourself dragged into the inside by hand first, feebly looking behind at the paperboys who ‘shared’ a shrug before running after you.

“Welcome to the brand NEW, Hazbin Hotel. We are so HAPPY to have our first NEW guest after our sudden refurbishment. Now as you can see-” 

It was all too easy to tune out the little Princess’s words while making the appropriate nods and hums as you followed her flourished gestures. Charlie Morningstar wasn’t what you expected, but at the same time it was. A strange dichotomy of impossible bubbliness against the rumored fierceness that lurked underneath her smile. Not like you could have gotten an interview with the poor bastards that had gone against her a week ago. 

“Oh, here is the statue of the bestest boy ever Dazzle! He was-”

Extracting your hand from her grip was like trying to scrape off slimy seaweed in the shallows. Yet, somehow you managed as you forced a polite smile on your face that seemed to dim in the brilliance of Charlie’s smile. 

“Lovely scenery, Miss Morningstar, but I am not-”

Another squeak of joy interrupted your speech as Charlies was peering around your skirts. To the huddled forms of the paperboys, their ears flat against their heads as if they could sense something about the Hellborne Princess. 

“Aren’t they adorable, these your kids- Look at their little buttons and vests. Just so-. Are..you alright?”

Her first question sent you into a coughing fit as you hastily waved off her concerns. Eyes watering as you managed the word ‘No’. It was impossible to protest as you found yourself ushered towards the bar and its’ equally grouchy but polished looking bartender.

“What can I get you? Aside from Charlie off your back, can’t help you there..”

“Gin. Tonic. Don’t you touch that.” Your last words were sent as a low hiss catching sight of a floppy ear peering around the bar front. Its paws trembling in excitement as the glass gin decanter glimmered in the lighting. 

“A little booze never hurt no one. Trust me, toots.” The other bar patron waggled his fingers at you. Angel Dust, wasn’t it? He was all but baiting the souls as he dangled a shot glass above their smaller forms.  The spider demon let out a yelp as small black holes materialized on their masks, eagerly drinking down the meager offer of liquor.

“Watch your pockets.” You retorted as you took another deep drink of your glass. Fingers tapping on the marble countertop as a timer. A telltale yelp came from their victim followed by the pair scurrying off their prize secured in their paws.

“Little bastards pickpocketed me,both of em. I must be loos’en my touch to not feel that.” Angel whined as you laughed into your glass. It made a hollow sound all too soon as there was a clink of ice. He was quick to scurry after them feebly chasing after the thieves. It was like trying to grab a shadow as the paperboys materialized their own ‘holes’ to hop in and out of utilizing the inner spaces of Purgatory. 

“I warned you. Can’t even give them pocket lint, any items bind them further to this reality. Makes them little kelptos. Can’t tell you how many pens I have lost from that unfortunate hab-” 

“FUCK.” Angel let out a yelp as he pulled back one of his arms, now bearing a fresh bite mark as he daringly stuck in hand in one of the tiny portals. Curious. He was far too curious as you withdrew your little black book from your pocket to add to your notes. It seemed to be a running theme of eavesdroppers as you sighed before lowering the book to allow Charlie a better look at it. At least she was too polite to rip it from your grasp.

“Angel Dust. Porn Star. Mafia ties? Power-” Charlie flushed over the word before sheepishly passing the book back over. 

“So, a little black book of secrets is it? Been a while since I have seen one of those.” Husker rasped before holding out his paw to flick through the book. His eyes widened as he too quickly passed over the book. 

“Are you some kinda journalist?” Husk growled with an edge of suspicion as you gave a wry smile. Something like that he was close enough. While Charlie, an apparent optimist clapped her hands together before once again taking your hands in her clutches. 

“Maybe you can do a piece of the hotel. For its grand reopening. Oh, oh, we can start with the introduction of the new parlor room. We even installed new stained glass windows that really make the ambiance pop. Oh, please say yes, it would be a perfect-”  

“Perfect time for her to leave. You mean, right darling Charlie?” Alastor’s less than pleased tone boomed over the room as all eyes watched the Radio Demon descend the stairs. Microphone in hand. As if it hadn’t been broken into two pieces like a match last time you saw it. No, this was entirely Alastor’s bravado instead of the mess that you met before.

“Better make me another drink, it seems.” You muttered under your breath as the faintest hint of smirk slid over your lips as Alastor’s gaze flickered from Charlie’s tight grip on your right hand, while your left slid protectively over the little black book on the bar. 

“Hold that thought, Husker.” Alastor snapped as the bartender’s scowl deepened before slamming the decanter of gin back on the bar. 

“Husker do this, Husker don’t do that. I have about had it with-” Husker’s grumbles were ignored by Alastor as he seemed to have grown a faint sliver of patience. An impressive feat if it wasn’t causing your glass to remain empty. Even the ice cubes were melting as you rattled the cool glass.

“Why should she leave? She’s a new guest.” Charlie protested as you chuckled at the thought. You, a Sinner looking for a chance of redemption. Perhaps, you should have tried to write funnies after all. Or perhaps the Princess of Hell had a strange bizarre sense of humor.

“Apologies Princess, I am afraid you have gotten the wrong impression of me.” You explained gently pulling your hand from hers as you tried to find the right words about the entire affair. It wasn’t like you had planned to move into the hotel to stir up the pot. Far from it.

“FOR THE LAST TIME I AM NOT YOUR SECRETARY. YOU CAN’T EXPECT ME TO WRITE DOWN YOUR THOUGHTS FROM LAST WEEK AND REMIND YOU OF THEM. CHARLIE, I CAN’T- A shrill rant was punctured by the ruffle of wings as a gray streak quickly took refuge behind the princess. Wings? A quick flicker through your notes as you could feel Alastor’s gaze burning into your hands with each whisper of the paper.

“Please don’t worry, Vaggie. I have a solution to your concerns.” You muttered as you slipped the book back into your pocket. 

“Charlie, sweetheart, please tell your girlfriend, a genius like me needs-”

“Every thought dictated back to him like a parrot. Yes, I know that sir. I am afraid I hear your voice in my dreams. Or should I call them nightmares. Who knows what sort of information you stuffed into that poor girl’s head.” You chirped lightly as you swept your way past Alastor. As if he was a mere tree amongst the woods. Dropping into the smallest of curtsy as Luicfer clapped in his hands together in an all too familiar gesture. Like father like daughter, you soon found yourself caught in his grip, a familiar hand around your waist as he ushered you back to the group.

A shell-shocked, wide eyed group as all you could manage was an almost shy wave as Lucifer began to sing your praises without a hint of awareness. 

“Everyone, may I present the newest staff member of the hotel. Well, my personal staff member. My ever diligent, steadfast and almost too prompt Secretary. It’s been my request that she take up quarters here.”

“Well, it was said work is a new kind of Hell. At least it will be a stylish one.” You deadpanned weakly as a burst of laughter broke the tension in the air. Your tail flicked angrily as Alastor wiped a tear from his eye as he managed to speak through his laughter.

“You. A Secretary. For HIM. You must be-”

Anger seized your heart as your tail thrashed about, your ears flat as venom dripped in your next words. 

“Fuck you. I wasn’t aware I needed my ex-husband’s permission to do my job. One that I am quite exceptional at.”

“HUSBAND?” A chorus of voices rang through the silent foyer as Husker let out a low whistle before thoughtfully pouring the gin into your abandoned glass. The alcohol’s blissful coolness did little to dampen your temper as another word left Alastor’s curled lips.

“Till death do us part. I would consider this a technicality.”

“Oh don’t start that-” Husker protested as you grabbed the almost empty decanter, hurling it at the infuriating radio demon. His words fatigued like this wasn’t the first spat between lovers he had witnessed behind the bar. The glass smashed against the far wall as Alastor easily stepped out of the weapon’s range. His smug expression didn’t last long as he stumbled out of the way a sudden switch blade aimed for his gut. A single furry arm reaching out furiously swinging as another portal aimed for his knees. Draining your glass with a single long drink, you were quick to join the fray. The weapon of choice is a feathered quill, its sharp dripping crimson as Alastor fell into step with your challenge. A macabre dance of sorts as Alastor dipped into a mocking bow, ears tucking back to narrowly miss shining glint of metal.

“Fuck you. You broke those vows a LONG time AGO.”You snarled as you could feel anger begin to court something you hadn’t felt in years. Sentiment.  The cool burn of the fucking ring still on your finger, like a vice trapping the flesh of a forgotten life, but would ruin you to amputate. A string tying to a much happier time. At least one with glimpses of the emotion.

Alastor’s hand caught your wrist with ease as you snarled when he removed the silken glove from your left hand, revealing the accursed piece of brass. A cheap little thing, but it once meant the world to some stupid woman. Alastor’s eyes widened for the briefest second as if he hadn’t thought that his mocking words from earlier held any weight. Or was it because he hadn’t expected your free hand to strike him across the face.

“I didn’t ASK your PERMISSION. I DON’T FUCKING NEED IT. I NEVER DID.” Your voice was a low hiss now as your hand drifted to your throat. Black ink was slowly spreading across the crisp collar in a slow haze as splotches seeped through here and there on your dress. Ink oozed across the floor like a slow haze as Angel hastily scurried up onto the couch away from the ooze. The slippery forms of hands reached out from the ooze like a drowning man trying to breach the surface, their stained hands gripping your ankles. Alastor kicked at far more hostile hands, their passive grasp turning into sharp claws eager to sink into flesh.

“So. You made some new associates, kit. As did I”

“ALASTOR, ENOUGH.” Charlie’s voice broke through the haze of violence as you bit back your retort under Lucifer’s cool glare. The ink dissipated, but the trembling of your form didn’t. Control was something you always lacked when your temper sparked. It was your fatal flaw, it made you reckless. It scorched you from the inside out as your hands curled around yourself protectively, fighting the urge to gag as if each breath provoked another splattering of ink from the depths of your throat. 

“Breathe.” Lucifer muttered as he offered you a spare handkerchief. It was almost a shame to see the dark liquid greedily seep into the silk cloth like a drunk to drink. Angel was quick to pull up alongside you with a waste basket as you retched further ink into the bin.

“Had enough experience with the gutter to know the “oh fuck I am gonna hurl face”. Angel teased as you glared up at him. Managing only the faintest laugh as Angel winked cheekily at you.

“Well, that wasn’t the worst introduction to the hotel.” Charlie chimed weakly trying to lighten the mood as she stood in front of Alastor. Protecting you from him? Or was it the other way around. Or perhaps it was to spare the risk of another massive clean-up as an excited giggle lit up the room. A maid skittered about the room mop in hand as she invasively wiped a wet cloth over your face before darting off to the next puddle.

“Thank you, Niffty. We would be lost without you.” Lucifer mused as the maid gave a quick salute to the compliment. 

“I mean I did do the stabbing of the nasty big bug” Niffty said in a sing-song voice as you connected the words. This, this was the Sinner that managed to kill the first Man?

“Oh, now I can see why you were so out of sorts.” You sneered as there was that telltale twitch of Alastor’s left eye.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh never again darling.” 

“Well, now that this little reunion is settled. I do hope your files are in order. We have A LOT to cover.” Lucifer announced with a dramatic sigh. It was all false theatrics, you knew likely better than anyone of the renewed passion that had been lit in the King of Hell. The management of the realm itself, to remind the Sinners that he was in charge for a reason. With or without the rumors surrounding his prestige.

“Of course. Sir.” You answered flatly as you snapped your fingers once more. It was like watching a small parade of rabbits as the tiny creatures streamed into the hotel door. Needing little direction as Lucifer’s words began flowing like a river. Your pen dancing over the pages in furious shorthand. Allowing yourself to fall into the intoxicating haze of work into the long hours of the night.

“Now I think it’s time to call it a night. It was quite an eventful day for you.”

The words skittered over the page without a thought as your tired eyes read over them. It wasn’t diction, no, it was the start of a conversation. Lucifer observing you through steepled fingers as you put the finishing punctuation with a loud clack of the keys. Taking extra time to carefully remove the delicate paper from the roller, you wistfully blew over the damp ink. Ignoring the click of Lucifer’s tongue as he knew your procrastination tactics. He couldn’t exactly scold you for being considerate now could he.

“It won’t be a problem. It’s in the-” You began as Lucifer waved you over to the seat in front of his desk.  Now you were feeling like some school girl about to be lectured by the teacher as you slid into the seat with a guarded expression.

“I wouldn’t mind it being a problem. Smug prick could use another reminder of his standing. As powerful as he is, he is still a Sinner. Once human with an apparent speck of a heart that can be rattled it would seem. Especially if you know how to stab at the soft parts.” Lucifer mused with a raised brow.

“Are you asking me to kill Alastor, sir. I wouldn’t be against throttling him in his sleep tonight.” You deadpanned as your fingers twitched at the thought. 

“No. No. A bit of emotional torment is just dessert for me. Besides, I think Charlie would be a bit put out if it came to that. She was already so disappointed with the misunderstanding about a new Guest. Much less I had to talk her down from giving you a rousing speech after your little spat with him.”

You cringed at the imaginary conversation. You could all but see the wide-eyed princess flailing over the dramatics of love and how it’s worth fighting for. Possibly with an extra flair of confetti and trying to ply into a bit of romantic history. An impossible conversational trap that would make flaying feel preferable.

“I appreciate that, sir.” You muttered gratefully as Lucifer chuckled at your pained expression. However, you couldn’t help but feel like this was another trap when the devil’s expression turned from thoughtful to serious.

“I need you here. Charlie needs him here for some inane reason. Don’t push him too far, but don’t let him take advantage of you either. That’s a direct order. Now, off you go, we have plenty of nights to burn the midnight oil on.” Lucifer tutted before turning his chair, his own version of dismissal as you quietly left the study.

Your steps were aimless but seemed impossibly loud in the massive corridors of the hotel. Pale blue lighting drifting through the glass windows. As if it was a true moon outside instead of an endless haze of neon in the Pentagram below.  What would the fireflies look like here? Like some bastardized version of the one’s from Earth, perhaps emitting fire balls instead of a soft glow.  Fireflies dancing over the low tides of some forgotten lake as the early morning fog rolled in soon to be burned away by the rising sun.

“Oh, I know that look. Means it's time for a drink.” A hoarse voice broke you from your thoughts as you sheepishly ducked your head at the knowing words. It was almost embarrassing for Sinners to be caught lost in their memories from before, much to remember them in such vivid details. For many, regardless of age, their memories would come for them in their dreams. Sinners were meant to be punished, dreams ripping apart by the seams into their worst nightmares.  Or callous reminders of their sins amplified by tenfold to send them bolting upright in their beds.

“Afraid that won’t help me much tonight. Today was a bit..excessive” You admitted softly as Husk snorted at your shoddy attempt of downplaying the chaos of the day. The cat demon’s wings ruffled as the pregnant pause filled the space. You could only imagine the questions that were burning to be asked. Ones that you would loath to answer without a bit of sleep.

“So, how did-”

“How many broads do you take on midnight strolls, Whiskers. Hurting my feelings here. I am only a bit late..” 

Your luck may have been changing as Angel’s arrival easily caught Husk’s attention. Or more so, Angel demanded it as he stood behind the shorter demon with a knowing look. A moonlight stroll? You quickly covered your faint laugh with your hand as Husk’s gaze narrowed displeased. 

“A mere accident. Enjoy your night.” You mused as the pair exchanged a quick glance. It seemed they were just as eager to escape the conversation as you were.  The faintest notes of jazz punctured the silence as Husk rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Course, he is still in a prickly mood..” Husk growled 

Alastor and jazz was like watching the aftermath of a storm. Sometimes it was gentle lull ushering away dark clouds and foul weather. Other times it was the preamble to things to come as the restless notes went on into the early hours of the morning. 

“Ah, he’ll get over it if someone puts him-” Angel teased with a wink as you could feel your face begin to burn like a coal over the open fire.

“Have a good night.” Your words cut over the suggestive tone, perhaps too abruptly as the pair's laughter echoed after your footsteps. As if running away from the mere implication wouldn’t let your mind dance over the words. Your nails dug into the skin of your palms as you could almost taste the burn of rye. The ghostly touch on the back of your neck as you ran your hand over your face. As if that would wipe away the memories starting to prickle in the back of your mind. 

“Fuck.” You hissed as you realized your distracted steps had led you even closer to the source of the sound. Like the luring lull of a siren as there was a quiet rumble of a trumpet that sent goosebumps over your skin. All that was missing was the sweet scent of tobacco and low rumble of conversation. You startled backward onto the floor as the door slammed open at the crescendo of the song.

“Well, this is a surprise, do come in.” Alastor muttered as you silently cursed any entity for putting you in this position. Your dress slid up to above your knees, revealing the torn and ripped stockings beneath it as you hastily smoothed it back down. Alastor’s head tilting as he follows your hands up to your murderous expression before smiling that smug infuriating smile. 

“A leopard can’t change its spots. An intriguing idea isn’t it?” Alastor mused as he lazily waved to the free chair next to the fireplace. The nostalgic force barreled through your skull as your nails sank into the soft fabric of the arm rest. Everything about the room did. The pale tone of greens of the wallpaper, its edges fraying with its deceiving quality. The gentle crackle of the fire tinted by the low notes of jazz. Even the curious restless tap of Alastor’s fingers as he waited to hear your retort. 

“It can if the spots are painted on by another..” You huffed as you forced yourself to not fidget under his keen gaze. Like he was wanting to peel you open like a bit of wrapping paper over a shoddy gift. 

“But what sort of paints would the King of Hell use?” 

“Ones that I bought. I refuse to compromise on that.” 

“Well, even paint begins to fade. Funny how that happens.”

“Perhaps I should use ink instead. That continues to stain.”

The words were barbed and pointed as neither side was willing to back down. Did he really think you all but threw yourself at Lucifer’s feet without a second thought? Clinging to the nearest chance to pull yourself out from torment and torture. For the minute of peace in exchange for blistered fingers and reddened palms. 

“I am surprised you can’t see the stain on your hands. Seems like it was all over earlier.” Alastor quipped as you looked down at your hands. Still covered by the linen gloves as if that could conceal the blood on them. The dark sticky residue that once shown crimson, now tainted every single stroke of your pen.

“There are far worse reminders of our mistakes.” You nudged one side of your face, forcing it into a half smile as Alastor blinked once, but said nothing. You weren’t that blind to the fact that he was holding his cards close to the chest. Not willing to let the smallest risk of letting himself slip like he did before in the ruins of the radio station.

“Now let’s not dwell on the past.” Alastor proposed as you snorted at the clear diversion. There was a quick rattle of tea cups and the gentle floral notes of chamomile tea waiting to be poured within a blink of the eye. The hot liquid tasted slightly metallic on your tongue as you queried a brow but said nothing.  The faint chime of the cup hitting the saucer was all too loud in the room.

“You seem..better.” Hesitation in your voice as if cautiously approaching an injured animal. A single slow blink of Alastor’s eyes was a silent warning. Yet you couldn’t help but brooch the topic. 

“I am right as rain, my dear. Why wouldn’t I be?” Alastor hummed as you clicked your tongue in disapproval. Lying, he was lying to you. As if you weren’t the one that stumbled upon his little fit days prior. The obvious injuries inflicted on him by otherworldly forces, the faint twitch in his left arm when your gaze settled on it.

Now it was like falling back into familiar motions as your feet moved on their own accord to kneel next down to his chair. Your fingers diligently undoing the cuffed sleeve with a single snap of a button. Sharp nails curled under your chin forcing your focus from the fabric to Alastor. Less than impressed as you could feel your heartbeat thud a little bit faster from the malevolence of his ridgid form.

“Don’t act like a child.” You snipped as Alastor’s glare could have burnt into your soul. Well, if it still existed as you defiantly rolled up the fabric with a small hiss under your breath. Tendon and viscera was feebly trying to keep itself together by Alastor’s will. If infection ever existed in Hell, it would have to look like this at least it didn’t smell like rot.

“Pleased with yourself?” Alastor snapped coldly before pulling his arm away with a defiant snap of the button cuff. It was a mere glance but he was acting like you had proposed the idea of amputating the limb entirely. Now it was becoming nostalgic as a slow smirk spread across your lips as you leaned down closer to him. Your hands splayed comfortably over the top of the chair. There was a twitch in Alastor’s smile as you could all but see the same memories begin to play out.

“Still stubborn?”

“Always.” Alastor teased as his fingers sprawled over the length of your throat. Feeling your pulse underneath it. He was cheating in this little game of wills as a low hiss curled in your throat as his smile widened daring you to make the next move.

Any and all tension fled the room like a dog with its tail between its legs as the room’s door slammed open. A wide eyed and jittery Lucifer all but barged in without a single hint of volume regulation. A weary looking paperboy skittered after him with a blocky paper in its hand bearing the single word.

‘Sorry.’

“Cancel all my appointments tomorrow and fetch the coffee. I need to-”

Lucifer’s eyes went as a smirk slid over his snake-like features. His expression the picture of innocence as if he didn’t barge into the intimate moment. Hands tucked into his suit pockets as he slammed the final nail in the coffin for any chance of redemption. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Smug, amused notes that made you want to crawl into a hole and be buried alive.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Your answer came first in a rushed hiss as you quickly stood up to grab the troublesome rabbit by its ears as it frantically scribbled on its scrap of paper to explain the situation. That it had attempted to lead away your boss, but he just got this odd look when he heard the jazz. Please watch the ears. The excuses made your grip all the tighter as the little creature squealed in protest as it was thrown out into the hallway. 

While Alastor’s ‘No’ was far less pleased as the Devil was taking insurmountable delight in the situation. He smoothed out the rumpled edge of the sleeve with little ceremony as Lucifer seemed almost impatient for his next words. It was difficult to cover your laughter as the words never came, only the clatter of china and a loud sip of tea. 

“Now, before I fetch that coffee. What is the issue?” You huffed as you snapped your fingers together allowing your quill the float aimlessly around you. Lucifer spun on his heel before grabbing you by the wrist with a bright smile

“I want to redecorate my office. It’s looking a bit..drab. That means measuring, shopping and all the other joys of furnishing. Now let’s hop to it. We only have a few hours till morning, moonlight is wasting away as we speak. Since I wasn’t interrupting anything..” Lucifer declared as he wrapped his arm around your waist, all but ushering you from the room without a single second to spare.

The bath was a mistake. Or was it the now half empty decanter of whiskey as the amber liquid gleamed in the setting rays of the sun. The once more warm was going cold as you feebly tried to turn the tap once more. Ah, but it was so far away as you sank deeper into the water with a sigh. It was said that drinking reveals a person’s true nature; happy, sad, anger, lust, all those emotions would have been better than the current state of overthinking plaguing your mind. It intertwined with guilt to produce a hideously ugly bastard that pulled at your thoughts like a child demanding sweets.

“It wasn’t my fault.” You hissed to the open air as you tried to chase away the nagging thought. You were doing your job, turning away the Overlord without an appointment. You have done so with anyone else. It wasn’t just because the flat-faced bastard was well…himself. Nor did you realize that Alastor’s vendetta went so far as to play the ‘ignorance’ card when it came to almost demolishing the hotel. 

But what if he had lost? You saw the unnatural twitch of his injured hand, still ‘rotting’ away even after rest. Or the obvious burn against his side after the jolt of electricity against it. Even with all his bravado, his weakened state would come to light eventually. Charlie would be the worst case example as she would fret and panic over the Overlord, who in turn would deny further aid. Fuck, Alastor was stubborn about injuries in ‘death’ as he was in life as the flash of his disgruntled expression when you first saw the injury drifted through your mind. 

No, you had to take things into your own hands. Again. 

Your legs wobbled in the sloshing waters of the bath as you managed to climb out with the smallest bit of grace. The amber liquor burned your throat as you took another deep pull of it. Liquid courage, that’s all it was as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Fuck, you still got that glazed look in your eyes when drunk. Like icy over the surface of a lake as you dragged a brush through your wet hair with a huff.  Had your blouse’s buttons changed or something as your clumsy fingers fought with the little plastic clasps.

“Oh, this is going to be delightful” You hissed to your reflection as the outfit was far from prim and proper. Your throat bare as you gave up fighting the buttons of your blouse until the collarbone. The fabric wasn’t even tucked into the wrinkled skirt you scrambled to find. Stockings hastily thrown over your legs as you skipped over the short heels left by the foot of your bed. No, it would be like witnessing a baby deer wobbling about on its new legs. 

Oh, he better sing your praises after as you slammed the bedroom door shut with a huff. Goosebumps prickled over your skin like the floating notes of jazz as your footsteps led you to an all too familiar door. Except, it was you this time that threw open the door with a loud bang as you closed it behind you with equal amounts of urgency. Static crackled through the air as Alastor’s displeasure was all too obvious as he cocked his head to the side in a silent question. 

“Now what do I OWE you this evening, my dear.” Alastor hummed as his tea cup threatened to shatter from the force as it was almost slammed down onto the saucer. The sheer irritation in his voice was like a cat’s rusty purr in your intoxicated mind as you clicked your tongue at him in warning. The amber liquor swirled in the warm firelight as you took another drink from it to find the right words. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that you would allow yourself to back down now.

“I’m here to help you, you jackass.” You hissed

“We both know I am far beyond that.” Alastor chuckled mockingly as he sank deeper into the armchair with a defiant scoff. Trying to make himself a smaller target as your tail lashed about in agitation at his stubbornness. 

“At least let me try. “ You insisted as you were quick to cage him in with your nails sinking into the back of the arm chair. You were even closer than the night before as Alastor’s gaze flickered from the almost empty decanter to your heated expression. 

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Don’t try to lie. Just let me-”

“Now what sort of mythical means could YOU have to help me. Truly, it would be-”

His sarcastic biting tone stuttered as your fingers ripped open the upper buttons of your blouse. The fabric falling down your shoulders in a slow wave as the thin cream fabric of the camisole underneath greeted the Radio Demon. There was an impossibly delightful pause and crackle of static as you could see the silver-tongued demon trying and failing to come up with the right counter to the bold advance. He gingerly used his index finger to try to feebly pull up the collar of your blouse. 

“If you thought my performance today was inept, I doubt you will be-”

“Alastor, I am not seducing you. I am trying to help you.” You insisted through clenched teeth as Alastor let out a bark of laughter. Or was it from relief. A different sort of warm brushed over your bare skin as the flickering fireplace’s heat whispered over you. Your blouse laid forgotten on the carpet as your fingers restlessly twitched against the soft fabric of the armchair.

“Well, nurse, what’s your next treatment step? Or did you not think this far..” Alastor hummed as your ears went flat. Fucker. He was right, but at the same time wrong. You didn’t think it would get this far, but the next step made the mere act of stripping look like a novice’s task. Now it was time to go out onto the thin as you retreated away from the seated demon, mulling over your words with exceptional care.

“It’s just a theory. It may not even work. It will require your participation and obedience” Your words shaded with an icy inflection as Alastor’s smile widened at the mere suggestion. Now you had his attention. This was going to be as painless as catching a racoon infested with rabies in an enclosed space..with a broom. Near impossible. Still, he leaned forward eager to hear your next words as you took another invigorating sip from the dwindling decanter.

“Demonic regeneration. I had the boys interview some survivors of the Extermination fight, little to no complaints about non-fatal wounds. Went into vivid descriptions about the celebratory banquet that included both Angelic and Sinner flesh particles. Aside from the minor glow, the interviewees reported feeling tip top the next day. So if-” 

Your words skittered to a halt as Alastor’s hand ghosted over your throat, sharp nails tapping against your face. His other hand on your lower back, holding in place as you tried to take a step back. A darker look of hunger tinted his eyes as his smile turned predatory.

“Are you asking me to eat you, my darling..”  His words came out clear as a bell, but it was all faux politeness as you could see the hunger in his eyes. How often did he indulge in that little habit of his? Had he been refraining during his recovery? Did you unknowingly dangle yourself like a haunch of meat in the face of a starving hound? 

“With restrictions. Alastor.” You reminded as you twisted out of his grasp with a scowl. He was quick to follow your retreat before flinching away with a small snarl. You had managed to prick the center of his outstretched hand with the sharpened point of your quill. The red blood oozed onto the floor as you shook off the quill with a quick flick of your wrist.

“Now that I have your rapt attention. I need you to carefully draw a line over the back of my shoulder. Draw, not stab. I’m not turning into a pin cushion tonight.” You warned slowly as you turned on your heel. All your instincts screeched in protest as you could feel the faint phantom taste of ink. Turning your back on a hungry predator was throwing caution to the wind. Yet, it wasn’t the obvious danger that sent a tingle up your spine, it was the almost ghost-like brush of the quill's feathered tip against your back as Alastor plucked it from your hand.

“A bit higher, adjacent to the nape of my neck.” You corrected as you were forced to not flinch at the first initial prick of the quill. Like stabbing yourself with the head of a needle during sewing, a surprise all the same. Your nails dug into the skin of your palms as the quill’s head sank a fraction deeper in your skin. A faint sting as it dragged downward leaving black blood trickling downward in its wake. 

“It’s black.” 

“Yes. Now carefully-”

Your words turned into a strangled hiss as Alastor’s tongue dragged over the wet skin like a cat did when given a bowl of cream. Goosebumps prickling down your neck as sharp canines brushed accidentally over the thin lines trying to coax more blood from them. Your back threatened to bow out of sheer instinct as his hand curled your throat to keep you upright. Easy, fuck, this was too easy as it wasn’t the mere burn of whiskey searing your mind now. Want, it was simple as your tail curled around the demon flirtatiously. 

“Back up.” You hissed hoarsely as you turned around to push Alastor back into the armchair. It was like pushing over a mannequin as Alastor’s hands loosely curled over your hips as you settled against his lap. His ears twitched as you drew the sharp quill over the side of your throat, curling around the nape of his neck to drag him against it. The grip on your hips tightening as you glanced down at his once injured wrist, the flesh mending together like twisting snakes. Working, it was working as triumph turned to ash in your mouth as a far sharper pain ripped through your collarbone. Your hand hastily clamped over the wound, a mistake as the creature’s dark eyes narrowed.

Now it was your turn to be toyed as the creature shoved you back onto the carpet. Flipping you over onto your stomach like a bird of prey would a sheltering turtle. The warm tongue licked over your cheek as if an apology as a sharp nail dragged down the length of your spine. Cutting through the thin fabric of the camisole and the skin underneath it alike. You could feel the blood trickle down your sides as you forced yourself to remain still as warm breath puffed against the back of your neck. A choked gasp slipped from your lips when claws grazed over your thighs, shuffling them apart as lust curled inside your gut.

It was said that there were two modes that a human went into when confronted with mortal peril. Fight or Flight. You didn’t think you could even manage to move an inch as Alastor’s demonic vestige loomed over you, you could hear the defiant crack of bones in his elongated neck when you glanced back. Flight would be like baiting a fox after a rabbit. So, you readied yourself for the other treacherous task. Fight. 

“This is new..” Your voice sounded pitched and shallow to even your own ears. What would it sound like to the Overlord? The squeaking of a mouse as it tried to evade a cat’s paws. Amusing, it was amusing as there was a cackle of laughter from the creature.

“Surprised?” Alastor mused as he dragged another long nail down your spine. Watching as your skin shuddered at the contact provoking another well of blood from the shallow cut. Perhaps, it was a bit morbid, but you couldn’t help but watch the droplets splatter against the carpet. The cool sheen of Alastor’s provoked antlers as their blackened hue caught in the low lighting. An obvious twitch of his ears as he noticed your staring. The tug of his stitched lip when he looked away first.

Your burst of giggles broke the tension of the situation. The crack of bone as Alastor returned to ‘normal’. The utter absurdity of it all as you curled against the soft carpet. That here you were, drunk, half naked in your ex-husband’s room. All but baiting him with your body be for your one-sided lust or his primal hunger. The prominent scent of copper as you pulled your hand away from the damaged flesh of your shoulder. 

“Don’t you dare put your hand down.” Alastor warned as your cheek rubbed against the carpet with willful ignorance. Snarling against the soft material as his nails caught the back of your bare neck, while his other hand hastily wiped off your damp hand with a magicked handkerchief. The irritating ease at which he held in place as you tried to move from his vice-like grip. The bitter taste of ink as you glared up at his smug expression.

“Now that we’re comfortable. Let’s talk about your little change..” Alastor mused as his eyes flickered over the stained streaks of black over your back. Sinners bled red, he had obviously eaten enough of them to know that simple biological factor. Yet, you bled black as you tried to avoid his silent question.

Why was it black? What was it about its properties that allowed him to heal?

“Let me up and I’ll tell you.” You purred with a bat of your eyes as Alastor let out a bark of laughter at the obvious ruse.

“And start a chase through the hotel, at this hour. No.” Alastor retorted as a nail traced over the back of your neck. Patiently waiting for your stubbornness to falter as you rolled your eyes. It was going to turn into a test of wills as you huffed against the carpet. Your body going flat as the gentle warmth of the fire soothed your nude back. Now if only you could convince the demon to give you the last bit of whiskey.

“Oh now, what’s this?” Alastor hummed as you could feel the bare air against your neck. Your protest was choked by the sensation of drowning as ink and whiskey splattered onto the ground in front of you. Your nails clawed at your throat as the dripping remains of the vomit-like mixture trickled down your neck, hardening into a collar-like object. Wrists fall limply at your side as the cold chains bite into the tender flesh of your forearms. The clink of chain around your ankles as you tried to shy away from the icy metal.

“Well now, what did you do?” Alastor mused as you dragged yourself into a sitting position. Your eyes were pocketed in small dots, no larger than a pebble. Snatching the offer handkerchief from the inquisitive demon as you tried to not gag on another splash of ink. 

“You’re the self-professed dealmaker, you tell me.” You hissed through stained teeth as Alastor smirked. You could all but see him lording over the fact that his reputation reached your ears, as closed off as you tried to make yourself from his influence.

“But with whom did you make the deal?” Alastor questioned as he circled around you like a buyer at an auction. Overlords dealt in souls, it’s what made them infamous in Hell.  

“You have me impossibly curious. I have known one or two split custody agreements. But, this, completely new. Indulge me won’t you.” 

His voice dropped to a mere whisper against your ear. Oh, now he was playing the ‘helpful’ card as you glared at his poor attempt of persuasion. Snatching up your blouse, you were quick to fumble with the buttons giving up halfway as Alastor watched with an amused expression. The rattle of chains on the floor as you stood up. Your choked gasp as the collar around your throat went taunt when Alastor’s fingers caught around the center ring, pulling you to meet him face to face. Mere centimeters away from one another as an ominous green glow illuminated both your faces.

“Alastor don’t-” Your warning was cut off with a sharp snap.  Alastor’s smug expression turned disgruntled as the newest guests in his room were all too familiar. Instead of the unknown, he was met with bewildered expressions of Nifty and Husk.

“What the fu-”

“Oh she’s being a bad girl..” Nifty’s excited giggles cut over Husk’s question as Alastor quickly stepped away from you. All evidence of your shackles vanished as soon as Alastor’s little trick back fired. Now all the pair had was witnessing the start or was it the end of a romantic encounter as you quickly turned your back on the hotel staff to once again fight with the troublesome buttons.

“Not. A. Word.” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as Husk rolled his eyes but kept silent. Nifty’s giggles bounced around the room as she doubtlessly would have tried to cling to you were it not for Husk’s quick reaction in dragging the maid out of the room by her elbow. 

“Will they keep this..quiet?” You muttered as Alastor joined you by the fireplace. You could see his wrist twitch fluidly as he stared into the crimson flames of the fire. A faint flicker of relief and pride washed over you to see that your little theory had been proven correct. All it cost was a pound of flesh as you could feel your shoulder protest at the mere thought.

“They won’t have a choice in the matter.”  A blunt, defined statement as you could all but imagine the leashes on the pair cinching another ring tighter.

“Charming, aren’t you?” 

“Always. My dear.” Alastor grinned, his inflection tinted with false cheeriness. As if the entire evening was a mere night-cap conversation as he quickly picked up the once forgotten decanter of whiskey and emptied its contents into two separate glasses. Both parties were eager to fill the silence with a harsh burn of liquor as you fiddled with the edge of the now empty glass. While Alastor’s glass made a hollow sound as it was set down on the side table drawing your attention from your thoughts.

“So, you won’t tell me-”

“It’s Hell. Alastor, what do you think happened?” You cut over his words with a sharp snap of anger. There it was, that cruel mistress of memory as your skin crawled with unease. The feelings of desperate fear and despair that dragged you from sleep from time to time. 

“But you could have-”

“ Don’t say I could have come and found you, Alastor. I went through that once, look what it got me.” You hissed as you willfully bound yourself to the Sinner in life. Ignoring all the little burdens piling up on your soul in favor of lust, companionship and promises. Throwing caution to the wind when it came piling down, the cruel bite of the bottle as you tried to pick up the shattered pieces of your life. That cruel irony of your death and its aftermath.

“Life and death go hand in hand, my dear. Mine shouldn't have-”

“You were my life. Alastor. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” You muttered bitterly as you swept away the unexpected glint of tears in the corner of your eyes. Fuck, this entire evening didn’t go according to plan, not in the slightest. But when did any of your drunken schemes turn out well?

Aside from the one with the shotgun. That was sheer luck.

Thoughtful, Alastor looked thoughtful as you reclined in the plush armchair. Fingers restlessly twitching, wanting another bottle to wrap your mind around. You could feel his inquisitive gaze over your form from top to bottom. It wasn’t a malicious or lustful gleam, but simple curiosity as you rolled your brass wedding ring idly on your finger. The little trinket that kept the fraying string of fate between the pair of you together. If you took it off, would it make you feel heavier or lighter on the inside?

“I had it for months, you know. Kept waiting for the right moment.” Alastor admitted softly as there was a flicker of fondness in his gaze as you scoffed at the comment. You remembered the entire state of affairs quite differently than his.  The chaffing handcuffs at the time did little to spice up the proposal, but he made it work out in his favor. 

“So the right moment was in the middle of a police station. Very practical. Alastor.” You retorted as Alastor waved off the comment with an idle toss of his hand.

“Well, it did make filing the paperwork that much easier. We just had to walk down a flight of stairs-”

“You forged my signature-”

“You left me no choice. Darling.” 

You huffed as once more you found yourself backed into a corner. He was right, as much as you loathe to admit it. There was little point in disagreeing about the past, much less shared mistakes as you rose from your armchair with a rub of your eyes. Something told you that it was going to be a pointless night of poor sleep, but you had to try. 

“Sleep well.” Alastor’s gentle words floated above you like a phantom as you curled into the soft sheets of your queen-sized bed.