"I Love You, Alastor."

"I love you, Alastor."

He had heard those words countless times before, both in life and in Hell. They always felt hollow, like faint echoes fading into the vast emptiness of his heart. They stirred nothing in him, only a slight annoyance. Love was a strange concept, distant and incomprehensible, never something he had the desire to explore. It wasn’t meant for him. In life, he had seen how love weakened men, made them foolish and dependent. In Hell, it was no different—just an illusion that led others to ruin, betrayal, and despair. He, on the other hand, had always stood on the sidelines, watching with a mix of amusement and disdain as souls fell prey to that emotion.

He had never felt the need to return those words. Why would he? Love was a slow poison, corroding from within, and he had neither the time nor the interest in experiencing such a fragile state. Watching others crumble under its weight was enough for him. He, always the calculated, always the distant, stayed in control.

But with you… it wasn’t that simple.

At first, he brushed it off. Not because he didn’t feel something, but because he wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. That unsettling knot tightening inside him whenever he saw you confused him in ways he hadn’t experienced in decades—perhaps ever. Curiosity? No, it was more than that. It was an intrusion into his mind, a weight he carried with him, refusing to let go. From the shadows, he watched you like a predator, calculated and cautious, trying to understand what it was about you that pulled him in. You moved through life, innocent, carefree, unaware of the eyes following you with an intensity even he couldn’t quite grasp.

Ninety-one years. He had spent so long in Hell, playing his part, pulling strings as others danced to his tune. He manipulated, controlled, always keeping a safe distance, emotionally fortified against everything. No one had ever touched him. No one had made him question himself. Until now.

He watched you with a tight smile, that carefully crafted mask of politeness he used to hide what he truly felt. But inside, there was a storm. What had begun as passing interest had grown into something far more complicated, something deeper, something terrifying. You had done what no one in ninety-one years had managed—you had pierced the armor that kept him immune. And he… didn’t know how to handle it.

He had tried. He tried with all his might to bury that feeling deep within him, down in that dark abyss where he stashed everything he refused to face. But you had seeped into every corner of his mind, filling the empty spaces, making indifference impossible. You had become his obsession, his weakness, and admitting that made him furious. He had never allowed himself to feel something so… human. And now, here he was, standing before you, feeling a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t control.

Those words, the ones he had heard from desperate, trembling lips so many times before, now burned inside him. "I love you." He had heard them before, hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He had always ignored them or mocked them. But now, those very words were tearing him apart.

"I love you."

His voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in his chest like a haunting refrain. The phrase slipped from his lips without his consent, as though they had been waiting for years to be spoken. And though he maintained his usual smile, that polished mask of elegance and charm, something in his eyes betrayed the truth—the turmoil raging inside him. Vulnerability. Pain. Fear. And worst of all… need.

In that moment, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it was almost unbearable, as if by staring he could somehow make sense of everything he was feeling. But there was no logic to it. His entire existence, both on Earth and in Hell, had been a dance of control, where every move was calculated with precision. Now, he stood on the edge of a precipice, and the thought of falling terrified him.

He was afraid. Not of love itself, but of what it meant. Of the vulnerability it forced upon him. For years, he had remained detached, viewing love as a weakness, something others suffered from, never him. He was the manipulator, the one who controlled the emotions of others. But now, he found himself ensnared in his own web, exposed in a way he had never been before.

He didn’t know what to expect from you. He didn’t know if those words would change anything, if you would understand them as he now did. But one thing was certain, with a clarity so sharp it nearly tore him apart—you had become his only constant. And that thought, that terrifying, overwhelming thought, was shattering him.

Ninety-one years in Hell, and only now, looking at you, feeling you so close and yet so far, did he understand what love meant. For the first time, he had found something that could truly destroy him.

And that… terrified him more than eternity itself.

❤️‍🩹📻🍎

A dimly lit room filled with various trinkets and oddities. Alastor, the Radio Demon, lounges casually, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as Reader stands nearby, exasperated. Alastor: tapping a finger against his chin Oh, how positively dull this room is, wouldn’t you agree? Almost like a graveyard… without the charm! Reader: crossing arms Seriously, Alastor. Can you tone down the chaos for just one minute? We need to find- Alastor: laughing heartily Tone it down? Sweetheart, chaos is my middle name! Right after my first one: R-A-D-I-O! Reader: sighs I have a feeling your middle name is actually “nuisance.” Alastor: leaning in closer, eyes glinting And you love it! Admit it! Who else could turn this mundane existence into an unpredictable rollercoaster of delightful madness? Reader: rolling eyes I’m not sure “delightful” is the word I’d use while dodging your chaotic pranks. Alastor: twirling a finger in the air Oh, come now! Just a little fun to spice up your life! What’s a little mayhem between friends? Reader: raising an eyebrow Friends? Is that what we’re calling this? Alastor: winking Oh, darling, let’s not play coy! You know I’m your favorite disaster waiting to happen! Reader: smirking despite oneself Maybe… but I’m still not cleaning up after your latest mess. Alastor: with exaggerated offense Mess? Me? I prefer to think of it as “artistic expression!” Now, shall we provoke some mayhem together? Reader: groaning I regret every time I said yes to you…

This is seriously a fact 👌

I NEED THIS FRAMED IN MY HOUSE!

Ok but WHY does Alastor need to lean over the desk so seductively 😆 I LOVE IT!

“I recall a certain somebody asking to see my tail. Or do you no longer wish to see it?”

Part 1/3 from Ch. 34 of “Of Saints and Sinners” by our lord and savior @morningstarwrites