Kill Your Darlings - Part Three

Kill Your Darlings - Part Three

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll start posting the rest of this series on A03, while posting one-shots and requests on Tumblr. It's been cool posting my series here, but I prefer posting to A03 when it comes to longer fics.

Nonetheless, please enjoy!

➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 𝟑,𝟑𝟓𝟎

The incessant clicking of a mousepad and the mad ticking of fingers flying over a keyboard filled the barren kitchen, as he occasional moan of the wind rocking the apartment complex back and forth and the cold, hard blare of the silver screen on your laptop aggravated the pain of your headache.  

The tips of your toes just barely brushed against the frigid kitchen tile as you leaned obsessively over your computer, clicking away on the mousepad like it was your lifeline.  

At that point, it very well could’ve been, since the precious piece of technology held all of your answers, answers that Alastor wouldn’t offer you – not without a price. 

And you had nothing left to barter, since he already owned your soul – a thought that loomed over you when the demon wasn’t around to distract you from that chilling reality. Alastor owned you. He could’ve pushed you around like a dog strapped to a chain, and yet he didn’t. Most likely because he couldn’t truly control you, since you weren’t lost to his wrathful clutches just yet. 

So, using your timed freedom, you did some digging around on the web in a last-ditch attempt to find anything about Alastor himself, and his history. Know thy enemy, as the saying goes. 

But whether he was truly your enemy, would be tested with time. 

And right now, the blasted internet was proving to be a worthy opponent, since you were practically tearing your hair out by the bunches since you barely discovered anything about him. Still, you were determined to decode his mystery. Humans were terrifyingly efficient at finding each other, and dead ones would be no more difficult, even if you found squat about Alastor. 

Mark my words. I’ll find out who you are, Alastor.  

“Where there is a will,” you clicked away from the barren search results, fully prepared to surf around the dark web if you had to, “There is a fucking way.”  

Even though you hadn’t a clue to his origins or background, you were convinced that Alastor had to have been some kind of serial killer while he was alive, and you’d bet your soul on it.  

His personality fit the stereotype – a well-based one, at that – he was haunting your fucking radio – granted, a very swanky radio – and on top of that, Alastor was a literal demon . Maybe. You weren’t all that certain about what exactly he was, but there was too much evidence supporting the theory to consider him being anything but. 

Whatever the case, you were convinced. Alastor was, without a doubt, a bona fide serial murderer . Perhaps that ominous information should’ve put you on edge, but you were twisted too deep in Alastor’s captivating mystery to care. Fascination had overcome your fear of the unknown, and you were ready to dive in, and lose yourself in his mysterious past. 

But that was proving to be damn near impossible, when you could barely find anything about the bastard. He was a footnote in history, at best. No last name, no family members related to him, nothing.  

Still, you were determined. 

Leaning forward, you chewed on your thumb nail whilst scrolling through yet another forum that went into thorough detail about demon encounters and sacrificial rituals. Or, at least, a human’s rendition of them.  

You had sifted through a fair share of information on demons as well but turned up with virtually nothing, save for many helpful bold-lettered warnings that demanded to be heeded: Do not. Fuck. With demons.  

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered to yourself, clicking away from the site before groaning and massaging your aching temples. 

By all standards, it had been an agonizingly unproductive session of information-scouring. However, you had made some headway with a client of yours and finished most of your task list. Everything minor was shoved to the side in desperation of somehow piecing together Alastor’s intentions, stressing over his poorly veiled threats, and trying to figure out just whoever the hell he was in life. 

Just as you were about to yield to the great barriers of the internet, with nothing but an increased hopelessness and frustration at your lack of understanding of your new “Master” – as you were loath to call him – a soft wisp of a shadow flitting about the kitchen caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. 

“Hello, there,” you sighed without looking up at the shadow, already annoyed with its presence as it leaned over the counter with a smug grin.  

One glance at the computer and your hopelessness told it a thousand words regarding your predicament. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can gloat later. I got plenty done, anyhow.” You raised an eyebrow towards it. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about him, would you?” 

The shadow stared down at you, unimpressed as it crossed its arms, crackling curtly in response. Absolutely not.   

“Aw, come on, not even for a snack? I could make you something.” You nodded towards the fridge, grinning when it perked up and followed your glance. “Just throw me a bone here. Give me a hint, anything, and maybe I’ll give you a nice meal. How does that sound? C’mon, I’m sure you’re hungry.” 

Its emerald green sockets glimmered mischievously, and it bristled with a soft purr as it leaned down on the counter, practically drooling at the thought of a meal.  

A low rumble shook the floors with an unmistakable growl of hunger, and it whined softly. 

You pouted sympathetically. Seems like Alastor hasn’t fed it, recently.  

“Oh, poor baby,” it nuzzled into your soothing touch as you scratched behind one ear. “I’m sure he doesn’t feed you as much as he should,” the shadow’s stomach rumbled in response. 

“Resorting to bribery, are we?”  

You rolled your eyes as the radio flickered on, and you raised an eyebrow at it as it sat innocently upon the coffee table. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You cooed down at the eager shadow as you completely ignored Alastor and his offended scoff.  

“Ignoring someone when they’re talking to you is quite rude, my dear-!”  

“I have some chicken that I can prepare for you. You can choose the spices, the temperature, whatever you want,” you were beaming cheekily when the shadow perked up, one fuzzy ear twitching towards you. 

“Temptress,” Alastor snapped. 

You at least had the decency to feel partly ashamed, though you just grinned triumphantly. You weren’t proud of having to barter for information, but whatever got you the scoop on Alastor was well worth it. 

“That’s right, just imagine those carefully baked, golden-brown edges, and oh, think of the spices!” Alastor rolled his eyes at your dramatic tone, choosing to peek through the shadow’s eyes at you. Pretty little temptress. You’d somehow tamed his shadow, and he was certain it wasn’t just the chicken that it was after.

To Alastor’s chagrin, the devilish phantom had all but leapt over the counter towards you, curling around you with a loud purr as it nuzzled into your neck.  

You chuckled at its antics and pushed yourself up from your seat, stretching your cramped back and legs and wincing from the lightning strikes of pain that shot up your joints from the hours of sitting in a hunched position. 

“Alright, let’s get you some food,” you scratched beneath its chin, and it hummed contentedly in response, its fluffy tail enthusiastically beating the air. 

“Traitor.”  

You cast a triumphant smirk at the slight pout in Alastor’s from the other side of the line. “Oh, I’m just doing some charity work. Clearly, you’ve been starving the poor thing,” you rubbed the shadow’s cheek, grinning smugly as it nuzzled into your neck with a soft coo. 

“Charity work!? You’ve seduced it with your wiles!” Alastor spat indignantly. 

You rolled your eyes while pulling out a few ingredients. “It’s food, Alastor. And you know what they say,” the shadow suddenly tittered and flew away from your side to rummage through the spice cabinet, “The way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach.” 

“It has no heart, and it is no man,” his tone darkened slightly, but you either took no notice or simply didn’t care as you took out the raw chicken from the fridge. 

“But it’s attached to one,” you grinned cheekily as the shadow returned with several spices in its arms while smiling widely with a wagging tail, while Alastor scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

You clapped your hands. “Alright, let’s get to work.” 

. . .  

Alastor had grown quiet for most of the process, leaving you and the shadow in pure, content silence as you got to work around the kitchen. The shadow was entirely unbothered at his master’s sudden radio silence, instead choosing to make itself comfortable looming around your form while watching you season and prepare its supper. 

As you waited for the chicken to be cooked, you turned to the shadow who had been staring at you with its head resting upon its inky palm while watching you work with salivating, emerald eyes, simmering with the fire of raw gemstones.

“Now, I believe I was promised some information in return?”  

Static buzzed as it put a finger to its chin, humming softly before speeding off into the apartment, and it soon returned with a pen and paper and scribbled madly across the parchment. 

Alastor Hartifelt.  

As soon as the name tumbled from your lips, a loud record-scratching screech sounded from the living room.  

Ӻᵾȼҟ.  

But you didn’t even flinch at the ear-splitting noise as you grinned and nodded in approval, your determination flickering bright yet again. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You barely got a moment to process your excitement at a new lead, a possible doorway to the holy grail of information about the strange, ominous demon haunting your actual radio-!  

Ding!  

The shadow’s ears twitched in the direction of the noise, and it was suddenly nipping at your nipping at your heels and pushing you insistently towards the oven. You were certain that it was drooling all over your floor, but you stifled your jittering excitement anyway. There were promises to be fulfilled, after all.

“Alright, alright!” Batting the phantom away, you grabbed the oven mitts with a sigh. 

“Not so easy now, is it?”  

“Oh, nobody asked you!” 

You soon plated the chicken and served it over to the phantom, who made quick work of the poor bird in mere seconds. At least it was already dead, you shuddered, trying to push the image of being ferociously torn apart by its razor-sharp canines out of your mind. 

It licked its chops with a satisfied rumble once it finished with not a crumb left on the plate you offered, and you were still reeling from the bizarre few minutes you spent watching it enjoy your cooking. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if it licked the plate. Seriously, how long has it been since the poor thing’s eaten?  

The shadow immediately curled around you as you sat down in front of the counter, hissing lowly at the laptop before burying its face in your neck with a soft growl. You didn’t want to be rude and shove it away, and besides, the shadow’s aura was surprisingly warm, which shielded you from the cold, drafty air of the apartment. 

And so, you allowed it to remain cooing and teething around your neck – as on-edge as it made you – while you typed Alastor’s full name into the search bar. 

As soon as you hit enter, the internet decided to be helpful again, and provided you with a golden website, containing any and all answers to your ever gluttonous curiosity for your new demonic companion, and his shadowy servant.

You smirked and ruffled one of the shadow’s ears. “Nice sleuthing, Alastor Jr.” The shadow grinned into your neck and pulled you even closer, while Alastor chuckled softly at the nickname, choosing to survey the laptop through the eyes of his ghostly scout. 

Not the first choice I’d make, since simply going down to the station would’ve sufficed.  Alastor sniffed and rapped his gleaming nails against his desk, eyeing the device with distaste. Then again, it doesn’t seem like those incompetent oafs would want an account of something so gruesome happening just beneath their noses staining their records!  

You relaxed into your seat, mentally preparing for the deep dive into Alastor’s shady past that you were about to take. It seemed that no information was buried enough to be obscured, so long as you were awfully specific with your search.  

But thank the merciful deities above that some history buff – who seemed quite outraged at the lack of discussion and information around their favorite serial killer – had taken it upon themselves to collect and piece together a consistent timeline of events, all centered around one Alastor Hartifelt. 

Got’chya.

You scrolled a little bit through the Godsent gold mine of information, baffled at just how much there was for you to access. Apparently, Alastor Hartifelt had been a charismatic personality on the radio, a beloved host and rising star in New Orleans. Around the time that he’d made his debut as a radio host, however, was when the murderers started. 

The presence of the Bayou Butcher rocked the city harder than any other scandal at the time, and you couldn’t blame the people for being so paranoid, after reading the brief description of his kills, and his M.O. 

You whistled. “Damn. You have quite the track record, Alastor.” 

“I’m well aware, my dear!”  

You raised an eyebrow at the sound of ruffling paper in the background, accompanied by the clicking of frantic typing. But it didn’t sound anything like the short tapping of a keyboard, and the telltale ring heightened your suspicions. He cannot be serious...  

“Alastor, do you have a goddamn typewriter?”  

“It’s essential, darling! Every good radio host needs a captivating script,” you laughed and shook your head. He’s committed to the bit, I’ll give him that. 

As you explored the very depths of the case surrounding the Bayou Butcher, you began to grow quite curious and weary of just how Alastor disposed of his victims. Unfortunately, there was a certain tab that fed into that very curiosity. At least they provided a warning, before you could view what came next. This one was on yourself. 

“Fucking Christ!” You nearly jumped out of your seat as you clasped your mouth in horror, eyes widened with terror at the gory, uncensored photograph of one of Alastor’s maimed victims.  

The poor soul’s belly had been slit open with a still-inserted butcher knife, with his rotting insides displayed for all to see and staining the floor with bile and undigested food. Squirming maggots and fat cockroaches feasted upon the corpse, which had been festering with mold and disease in Alastor’s basement for quite some time before the authorities found it. 

“Language, my dear~,” said demonic psychopath sang from the radio, and you were just about ready to chuck that thing out of your window as your eye twitched. 

“Prick...” you muttered, quickly scrolling away from the photograph. 

“I heard that.”  

“Greatest apologies, my liege,” you rolled your eyes. Alastor let out an amused huff but said nothing as he went right back to typing out his script. 

Bold headlines like ‘The Bayou Butcher Strikes Again!’ or ‘Victims Brutalized and Missing, Families Torn Apart’ were thrown around wherever you scrolled, and a mere glance at the cohesive timeline provided in one of the documents gave you a good window for how long Alastor had been active. 

“Huh. Seven years...” Alastor perked up at the sudden weariness lacing your meek voice. He had been tuning out for most of your little binging spree, instead electing to tuck into a book in the later evening, since sleep was seldom required for him. Nonetheless, he reluctantly took a peek through his shadow’s eyes to see what you were looking at on that blasted lap-top doohickey of yours, and dread filled his heart. 

Seems that some folks were quite fixated upon my choice of diet...  

Alastor bristled at the other end of the line, practically scenting the small flicker of terror. Your rising fear of him was building up again, and that just wouldn’t do.

Sure, Alastor was cruel, a monster, even, and he knew it. His deeds would instill fear in the hearts of even the most hardened soldiers, and his gluttony, his bloodlust knew no bounds. But not to you, not to the poor, lost little lamb that he’d so graciously taken into his care, that practically domesticated his shadow, who bantered with him. And just when he’d finally broken down a small part of your walls- 

“...So, is it true?” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow, halting from his tireless typing for a moment. “Is what true, my dear?”  

“That you...” you held back from gagging, and a slick smile crept onto his gray lips, “That you ate some of your victims?” 

Sighing, he leaned back in his cushioned chair and gripped the small microphone that he used for broadcasting. The idea of lying to you, treating you like everyone else prickled at his heart with resentment. There was no need to push you away. You were different. It would be different, this time. 

It had to be.

With a defeated sigh, Alastor nodded, though you couldn't see him. At least you’d know, now. At least there wouldn’t be any secrets between you two. 

“Yes,” was the demon, the cannibal’s resounding answer, and the room grew a few degrees colder with tension.  

You’d known that Alastor was... shady, at best. But now, it was out. It was certain. Alastor was a dangerous man, during life and death, but you knew that from the jump.

But at least he told you the truth, and maybe you could count on that, which was a strangely comforting thought. 

You sighed with relief. “As long as you don’t force me to try it.” Alastor chuckled along with you, grinning wider when you clicked away from the computer and sat back with a tired sigh.

“I think that’s enough snooping for tonight. ‘Night, Al’,” you yawned and softly rolled the shoulder that the phantom had been leaning on, and it retracted reluctantly with a soft whine. 

“Wait-!”  

You paused. Turning to the radio, you cocked an eyebrow at the desperation in Alastor’s voice, and he seemed to notice it too, since an awkward silence followed. Heat crept up the radio host’s neck, prompting him to itch and pull at his collar with a low snarl. 

Alastor fucking loathed this feeling. 

“Did you... Did you see anything else? Anything that caught your eye, perhaps?”  

It was the first time that Alastor had spoken to you with anything but suave confidence. “No, why? Is there something even worse than cannibalism, that I should know about?” Crossing your arms, you leaned against the threshold of the living room. 

Alastor softly cleared his throat. “No, nothing like that, my dear. I was simply curious as to how much information was disclosed...” he straightened in his seat, refusing to recognize his anxiousness. “Any mentions of family, spouses, perhaps...?”  

You shook your head with a negatory hum. “Nope, it was all just about you. Why’s that? Did you have a wife? Or a husband?” 

“Just wondering, darling,” he replied hastily, choosing to side-step that question as relief flooded him.

You eyed the radio sympathetically. “Sorry, if that’s... a bit too personal for you. I get it, if you don’t want to talk about it.” Shrugging, you started down the hallway with a wave and a yawn. “Goodnight, Alastor.” 

Alastor watched you, yearning, remorseful eyes tracing the familiar, soft curves of your form as you disappeared down the hallway.

And he answered your final words of the night, a solemn whisper against the cold, bleak air as memories of decades passed invading his memory, threatening overflowing emotions to pool to the surface. 

If you only you could hear the choke in his voice, the restrained tears, the remorse, the regret.  

“Goodnight, my darling.”  

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Thank you for reading <3 It'll be a while before I post here again, since I'll be focusing on my series on A03. If you'd like to read the rest of the fic, I'll put my account below for ya'll

𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 - A03

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid

@slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo, @crowleysthings, @zombiesnips-blog, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @ashdaidiot, @crybabycat1, @repostingmyfavs, @crazii-saber-wolf, @reikamasama, @dudesorriso, @speckle-meow-meow, @alastor-simp

@maggotzdilemma, @cassidywinters

*snatches pipe and runs away*

can someone hit me with a metal pipe please ty <3

Kill Your Darlings - Part Two

🎙️【 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒆 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: Ok, this was a little too short for my tastes, so I'll post pt. 3 soon (which is already done and a lot longer than this since PLOT) but enjoy!

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A suffocating choke of panic tore at your insides at the sound of the demon’s voice, ringing loud and clear through the pristine speakers of the vintage radio, the haunted device still clutched in the shadow's dark, bony talons. 

The apparition's form crackled with static as your back went rigid and the muscles in your thighs tensed against your armchair, prepared to run at the first sign of danger.

Christ, I might start praying again if this shit keeps happening-! 

“Have you gone hard of hearing, my dear? Or are you truly that inhospitable of a hostess?” The demon was practically grinning through the speakers as it teased you, taking you completely off-guard. His voice that had haunted your dreams was so wildly different and... hauntingly charming, in a soul-rattling way.

“W-What the hell do you want...?” 

“Oh, I’m only checking in on my favorite little human~, making sure my visit didn’t rattle you, too much~...”

He chuckled huskily through the speakers, and you would’ve rolled your eyes at the flatter, had you not been terrified to your core. Being the favorited among the poor souls that some psychotic demon specialized in collecting was no prize to be sought after, nor should it be even considered a compliment.  

Unfortunately for you, this was now your reality. Being the favored among the demon’s possibly vast collection of toys. 

“Favorite? What, because you own my soul, or some shit?”  

The demon laughed, his deep, rich voice summoning a kaleidoscope of butterflies into your stomach. “Oho, you catch on quite quickly, my dear!”

He chuckled heartily for a few more seconds, and the tension in your shoulders was suddenly released at his seemingly laid-back posture. 

“Though, I’d say it’d have something to do with that spitfire tongue of yours,” his voice tickled like a warning against your ears, bringing an underlying feeling of unease. 

Tread carefully, now. Don’t do anything to piss him off. 

“Alright then, fair enough," you leaned against your chair, trying to get your nerves to relax as a healthy dose of pumping adrenaline screamed for you to run far, far away from this beast. That associating with him would only spell your demise.

“Tell me your name.” 

“Hm?” The shadow tilted its head at you, like a confused puppy. It was as if the demon was moving through it, or the shadow was moving for him. Like a puppet.

You huffed. “If I have to ‘devote my soul’ to you, or whatever, I should at least have something to call you,” you let your sentence hang in the air, almost anxious for the demon’s answer as he hummed at your suddenly bold attitude.  

How naive. I can smell your fear from here, my Doe. 

And what a choice of words! Devote your soul to him? A deliciously intimate sentiment that he quite liked, much more than he’d care to admit. 

“Well, I suppose that’s a given...” you sat unblinking while the demon seemed to think it over, and pinpointed the trans-Atlantic accent of his that excited the air with a lively vintage flair. One that a deeply buried part of you that should shut the fuck up found quite charming.

“The name’s Alastor, my dear! And yours?” The shadow leapt forward out of its chair and loomed over you, extending its hand for you to take as its eerie smile stretched across its face even further.

Alastor, huh? Not exactly a name you’d hear being tossed around on the streets, these days.  

You hesitantly took the shadow’s hand and told him your name, plus a polite, “It’s... Nice to meet you, I guess. Again.” 

Narrowing your eyes from the memory of the rather unpleasant experience of meeting the new owner of your soul, you cleared your throat.

There were many questions that you had for this... Alastor. First and foremost, how the hell did he acquire your soul? Why did he sound like he was from a completely different time? What did he look like? Was he going to drag you down into Hell with him?

Those were among the more important ones.

“I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind, Alastor...” 

He shivered from the other end of the line, gripping his microphone with fervor. Oh, how he loved to hear his name pour from your pretty lips. 

“Ask away, my dear~,” the shadow leaned against the chair with a purr, gazing down at you with half-lidded eyes as the radio beside it hummed with static. 

Okay, start with something easy. “How did you even get my soul to begin with?” 

“My, my! You don’t start small, do you?” Alastor grinned into the microphone. Ah, yes, the tale of how he stumbled across your gem of a soul and was promised a soul slave that would tend to him for all of eternity. Such an offer was just too intriguing to refuse! 

Who knew the blonde starlet was hiding such a cute little jewel right up her sleeve? 

“It just so happened that a dear friend of mine was in possession of your soul. They simply offered up yours, in return for all their painfully predictable greed and lust satisfied. Quite the clever loophole, if you ask me!” You bristled slightly. Prying answers from the demon might be a bit more difficult than you thought.

How vague. Touché, Alastor. 

You watched as the shadow’s claws drummed upon the arm rest of the sofa, awaiting for your next question.

“And just what are you going to do with me, when I...” Your eyes flickered with a solemn emotion, knowing that your fate of being chained to this demon would surely drag you down into the blazing basement was guaranteed at this point. 

“Ohoho, you have no idea, do you~?” 

The hairs on the back of your neck rose and goose bumps prickled along your arms as the shadow towered over you, making you curl in on yourself as its lanky, wispy arms came to cage you underneath it.

A long, lithe tongue came to swipe across its lower lip, making an embarrassing heat pool just above your crossed legs. 

“It’s what I’m going to do to you that counts, my darling,” the shadow remained there for a moment longer and leaned ever so close so that you were mere centimeters away.

You couldn't move, couldn't close your eyes, and no deep-seated, primal fear could be found, now. Only shameful fantasies invading your headspace, before the shadow pulled away and settled back onto the couch with a wide, crooked smile while purring proudly, clearly very pleased with itself.

“Now, I do believe I deserve to ask a question of my own, my dear.” The apparition smirked down at you while you sank in your seat with flushed cheeks, still shaken from a dose of tonal whiplash.

“Alright...”  

“Just where do we happen to be? Why, I do wonder whether we’re in the States at all!” Alastor laughed boisterously, and a part of you winced at how fake it sounded. No, perhaps hollow was the word. It was like he was wearing a showman’s mask around you, pretentious and forced, and you hoped you wouldn’t have to live with it for long. 

He’d somehow manage to be even more unbearable... 

“We’re in New Orleans."

Pure silence met you, though the shadow had spoken for its master, as it excitedly raced over to the window like an eager child looking through the frost-paned window of a toy store during Christmastime, garnering a nice view of the city its owner so dearly adored. 

The radio buzzed and whirred behind you, as if it would jump up from its spot on the table. “Is that so?” 

You nodded. “Just moved here, a few weeks ago. Have you ever been?” 

“Have I been here?” He laughed incredulously. “Why, I was born and raised here!” Pride oozed from every syllable as the shadow stood tall with its chest puffed out, while you gripped the edge of your seat.

So, he was once a human?

“Really?” Though Alastor could not see you as of right now, he liked to imagine the cute shock flashing in your eyes, the way your brows raised and how you leaned over the chair as it creaked beneath your shifting weight. “What was it like, living here? When did you die?” 

“Hm... Just around the thirties, if I remember correctly!” He reveled in your soft gasp of shock. “Let me tell you, it was quite the time to be alive!” 

The shadow had stepped away from the window, walking around the living room and making dramatic gestures that carried the flair and elegance of a true showman. Along with Alastor’s addictive voice, it was like watching a live show.

And you were drinking up every drop.

“And, oh, the music! Perhaps one of these days, I’ll show you how to properly cut a rug,” the shadow winked down at you, bristling with glee at your flustered laughter. 

You watched as the shadow paced back and forth while Alastor chatted your ears off, finding your ice-cold resolve to avoid this demon at all costs deteriorating by the minute. 

But, still, all good things had to come to an end, as they say.

“Alright, alright, this has been fun, but...” you side-eyed your work laptop that sat innocently upon the kitchen countertop. “I really need to get to work, now.” 

The shadow drooped, its seemingly permanent smile dripping into a frown. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to abandon a lovely afternoon with me for that,” Alastor sneered at the laptop as the shadow pointed towards it accusingly, “silly, pompous, piece-of-shit, whatever the hell it is.” 

You sighed, standing your ground reluctantly. “Trust me, it’s not like I love working, but, hey, you know how it is.”  

Walking over to the laptop, you rolled your eyes as the shadow hissed lowly. “I won’t be long, okay? Now, unless having my soul warrants you keeping me from paying the bills, I’m getting to work.” 

“At least tell me what kind of entertainment it can provide that I can’t,” Alastor spat as the shadow crossed his arms and stood rigid above the laptop with a sharp scowl. 

“I told you, it’s not entertainment, it’s my job,” you replied with exasperation, “I’m an editor for a publishing company. Now, shoo, shoo, I have a manuscript to review,” you boldly waved your hands at the shadow in a ‘go on, git,’ motion. 

The shadow hunched over you with a low growl, its antlers stretching towards the ceiling as a harsh crackle of static pierced your ears.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your Master?”

A spike of fear tried prying you in the other direction towards the door, but a flicker of irritation at his very interesting choice of words won out against your sudden spine-chilling terror. 

“I don’t believe you have that right to call yourself my Master just yet,” your eye twitched as you clenched your fists, instantly reminded of who – no, what you were dealing with. You couldn’t have felt more stupid to be swayed by his charms in that moment. 

“Alright, then, have it your way,” the shadow curled around you with a low, almost seductive purr, tilting your chin upwards with a single, inky talon. “But know that I’ll be cashing in on that statement, when you eventually fall to me.” 

You raised an eyebrow, pupils thinning in a challenge. “Oh? And what makes you think I’m going to Hell with you?” 

“Oh, you will, darling. Trust me, you will.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Next chapter will be lengthier but right now I'm just building up the ✨pLoT✨ so don't worry :) But the updates will be faster on my A03 account just because making them on Tumblr takes more time.

𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭: Forgot to use the updated taglist 😭 I'm sorry about that

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid

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@maggotzdilemma

ALRIGHT. ALRIGHT, IT'S TIME FOR A COMMITTMENT! IT'S TIME FOR A CHANGE!

IT'S TIME... TO CONTINUE THE VOX FIC I'VE BEEN PUTTING OFF FOR SO LONG!!

I SWEAR, ON GOD I WILL UPDATE THIS FIC, YOU HAVE MY WORD

HOLY SHIT I'M EATING THIS UP- DAMN RIGHT PART TWO IS IN THE WORKS THIS IS INCREDIBLE

18+ blog, MDNI

'𝑻𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒐 𝑼𝒔 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕

𝑯𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝑾𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

content WARNING: angst, violence, murder, mention of murder, major character death, suicide, dark themes

word ct: 2,798

•°•♡•°•

Knock, knock, knock!

You'd been sitting on the floor, practically against the front door for hours now. Your husband hadn't returned from the radio broadcasting studio at which he worked and it had been over 24 hours since you'd seen or heard from him. You rushed to your feet, pulling the door open. You were relieved to see a police officer, and immediately began looking around. "Oh! Have you found him? Alastor, dear?" You clasped your hands together as your gaze darted anxiously. The officer removed his hat, and cleared his throat.

"Yes, ma'am, we've found him. Unfortunately, he was found in the forest- deceased; a single gunshot to the head." The officer's mouth stayed open a bit, as if to say something else. You let out a forced, one-breath laugh. "I beg your pardon? My husband has been missing for over a day, this is no joking matter!" You spat, crossing your arms. "I'm sorry, but it's not a joke. Your husband was found in the woods near the city park."

The entire world could've caught on fire and it still wouldn't have brought your eyes away from the officer's. "You're lying." You spoke, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, ma'am." You didn't feel your knees as they collided with the ground below you; the officer's reaction time wasn't quick enough to catch you. Your heart repeatedly slammed against your chest as white noise filled your mind and your breath stopped. Suddenly, everything was too much; the officer's feet, shuffling nervously as he couldn't decide whether to comfort you or not. The wind, pulling your hair and dress. The blades of grass, whipping in the wind; dancing, taunting you. Alastor had mentioned that he'd cut it today.

You raked in a breath, a terrible whine escaping your throat as you exhaled.

Alastor had been killed. He was gone.

Your eyes burned as violent tears quickly pooled and overflowed from them, and you tried to calm the frantic shaking through your entire body. "H-how-" You dragged another breath in, nearly gagging on the words. "How did he-" You'd hardly breathed the first syllable of the word as your head went back and a broken wail forced itself from your chest.

"Perhaps it would be best to come to the station, we have a few questions we need to ask you, anyhow."

***

You stood in the bathroom looking glass, applying powder under your eyes. Your lack of sleep was evident, but you had guests over and didn't want any more attention than you already had. It had been three weeks since the Alastor's death, and your friends had all taken it upon themselves to practically move in with you. Not that you disliked their empathy or company, you just wanted time alone to truly process your lovers death. You swallowed thickly as you straightened your dress out and exited the bathroom.

After the police officer informed you of Alastor's passing, you went to the police station an utter mess. It took 4 hours for you to calm down enough to focus on what anyone was saying, but your eyes were glazed over and distant as they told you what they'd discovered.

"(Y/N), hon, come sit." Your friend, Layne, gently patted the seat next to her as she sat a glass of wine down. You pushed Alastor out of your mind as you walked over and took a seat next to her. "I know we've been.." She glanced around and you followed her gaze to the rest of your friends, who were now silent and giving you their undivided attention. "avoiding, the topic. But you're doin' awful and we can't bare to see you like this."

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was true; the topic of Alastor hadn't been discussed much at all since his death, but you thought you'd been doing a better job at hiding your misery. You'd been hoping this conversation simply wouldn't come.

"I-" You took a deep breath, looking down at your lap. "I just never thought this was possible." Your voice was small, and quiet. Jean, another friend of yours, spoke up next. "None of us saw it coming either, sweetie." She sighed and shook her head. "To think that Alastor was killing people this entire time. I mean, who would've thought it?"

You knitted your eyebrows together as multiple, 'mhm's' synchronized. That's not what you were talking about.

In the police station, once you'd became calm enough to speak to, you were informed that the autopsy report came back and that his DNA had been found on a nearby corpse, which had linked him to multiple other crimes. Other murders. You'd dismissed the accusation, of course. Your husband was too sweet, too much of a gentleman to do such things.

They had overwhelming evidence; they were catching onto him and were close to catching him even before his death. One detective had said that Alastor's death made their job easier, and you decided then that you didn't want to hear more- from any of them.

You denied knowing anything, which was true. You had no idea that he was killing those people. You were found innocent and the idea of you being an accomplice was quickly wiped off the board.

The first night was entirely sleepless. You tried to rest, but every time you got uncomfortable, you would roll over and reach out for Alastor- just to be greeted by nothing but cold bedding. Then you'd berate yourself; you husband murdered all of those people. So many people..

Not you. You never saw Alastor get violent. Angry, sure, especially when men would make advances towards you- regardless of the diamond so obviously adorning your ring finger- but never violent. The thought of Alastor hurting you was almost laughable.

There was an internal moral battle.

Lives were taken. Families broken, scarred,

yet you were unharmed. Content- no. Happy. Genuinely happy.

Selfish. You'd decided you were selfish. It was a somewhat harsh realization, but you realized that you still loved Alastor, regardless of what he'd done. He'd never hurt you. Never you.

Alot of good that realization did, you thought. Yes, you loved Alastor with every fiber of your being, morals thrown to the side. But he wasn't there to be loved.

Layne picked up her wine glass, the movement bringing you back to the present.

"Yes, it's... hard, unbelievably so." You sighed, standing. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about this, honestly." You paused for a second before straightening out, smoothing your dress again. "I'll be back in a few moments." You left the room, deciding that a breath of fresh air would help. You'd just made it around the corner when you stopped, curious. After a few seconds, you almost continued walking, but Layne's hushed voice stopped you.

"It's so odd how she's able to just.. keep it inside. If it came out that my husband was a psychopathic freak, I'd- well, I don't quite know how I'd react, but I know I'd at least express it." Another voice, Connie. "Do you ever wonder if the courts were wrong?" A short silence fell over the room. "You don't mean-" Jean's voice.

"That she helped him? I don't know for certain. I do know she doesn't act like someone that was married to a lunatic, let alone that she's disturbed by his actions." Another short silence. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I know I'm not the only one who's given it thought." Jean spoke next. "No. I suppose you're not." She sighed, "Regardless, she's lucky she survived him."

You stood with your back pressed against the wall, a fixed expression on your face. You didn't quite know what the feeling you were experiencing was. You did know that you decided in that very moment that you didn't want to live another moment on this earth without Alastor.

You walked silently into the kitchen and over to the knife block. You reached out and grabbed the large, steel butcher's knife. You looked down at it in your hand, and closed your eyes.

Alastor's face flashed in your mind as your feet carried you away from the counter.

His smile.

His eyes.

His laugh.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing?"

His voice, calling your name.

"(Y/n), love, please put down the knife."

His arms, wrapped around you.

'I love you so, my dearest (Y/n).'

 'Psychopathic freak.'

Red. That was all you could see as you aggressively slashed against Layne's throat, her hands coming up to her neck in a useless attempt to hold her herself together. Thick drops of blood soaked into the carpet as the viscous fluid flowed between her fingers, down her arms and off of her elbows. You shoved her back, knocking her off of her feet.

'Lunatic.'

"Call the poli-" Connie cried out as you lunged at her and drove the knife into her chest, blood spilling onto your hands and down your arm. You gave a sharp twist before pulling it out and driving it into the junction between her shoulder and neck. The grisly sound of metal on bone grated against your eardrums as you yanked the knife out and sharply kicked her in the side of the knee. She fell to the ground, choking out weak breaths.

Your eyes flicked to your last friend, who was next to your telephone. You let your arms go slack, blood dripping from the tip of the knife as you stalked towards her. Tears flowed freely from Jean's eyes, her chest heaving.

"Pl-Please, we just wanted to hel-"

'She's lucky she survived him.'

You dug the knife into her stomach, and she dropped the telephone. Her nails dug into your wrist and hand as she desperately clawed at you. She let out a strained scream as you shoved the knife deeper, shoving upwards towards her heart. You, lucky? She was the lucky one. She wasn't plagued by the crushing weight of his death. You were using two hands now, pushing so hard that the handle of the knife was beginning to get embedded into her flesh, and your hands were soaked in thick, crimson blood. She didn't have to deal with the sleepless nights, praying to whatever force there was that you'd wake up next to your darling Alastor.

"G-God help me-" With one last crack, you shoved the knife up into her chest cavity and she choked, gagging on her own blood as she went limp.

The knife slid out of her as her body fell to the floor and you finally took a second to take a controlled breath in, looking around. The crumpled body of your friends lay in pools of their own blood, soaking into and darkening the carpet. You stood for a moment, allowing your heartbeat to slow before slowly walking towards the mantle above the fireplace.

As you lifted your foot to step over Connie's body, her hand reached out and grabbed your ankle. You looked down, unnaturally calm, and raised an eyebrow. She weakly turned her head, opening her mouth to speak. "You- you won't get away-" Her mouth fell slack as her eyes unfocused, her hand slipping from your ankle. She let out a heavy, empty breath. You tilted your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "I don't plan to."

You walked to the mantle, reaching for a picture of you and Alastor on your wedding day. Blood transferred from your hand onto the picture as you closed your eyes.

"'Till death do us part," You brought the knife up with two hands, pressing the tip into your solar plexus. "and after that."

You didn't give yourself a chance to think twice and pulled back, quickly. There was little resistance as the knife slid through your flesh, through your ribcage.

Unsurprisingly, it hurt. All of the oxygen was forced from your lungs as you dropped to the floor, a strained grunt dragging into a whine. It took every ounce of mental and physical willpower to yank the knife from your chest. You tossed it to the side, blood splattering around where it landed.

It didn't take long for you to get lightheaded and you turned your head, looking at the picture in your hand. The glass had broken during the fall, but Alastor's face was clear and untouched. Perfect. You let the tears flow as they came, and you dragged in your last, broken breath with Alastor in your mind.

***

"Alastor, dear, I know you're having a hard time adjusting," The tall, white haired demon shuffled around, pacing. "but you're going to go insane if you stay here any longer. You've been here 3 weeks, love. Go get some fresh air!" Her voice was cheery, but her face was full of concern as she looked at the red haired demon sitting before her.

"Rosie, I have no will to. Every day, every step, every.. breath is Hell without her." His large ears were flat against his head as he glanced up to his relatively new friend. Rosie sighed as she sat down. "That's what this is supposed to be, unfortunately. I still can't fathom you're enjoying sitting in this bed all day." "I'm not enjoying anything, Rosie." His voice was sharp, and it was clear that he was tiring of the conversation.

Rosie sighed as she stood. "Well, you know where to find me. I'm terribly sorry you're having such a hard time, dear." Alastor laid back, turning away from her as she walked towards the door.

There was a sharp cracking noise, and Rosie stopped. "What in the world was that?" Alastor asked, now sitting back up. "It- it sounded like- no, that's not right. Human souls aren't supposed to land here." Rosie rushed out of the door and Alastor, driven solely by curiosity, decided to follow.

As they reached the door, Rosie opened it and walked out, looking around. Her and Alastor's eyes landed on a small, crumpled figure and Rosie rushed over. Alastor almost turned and went back inside, but something hit him. It was a scent; unlike anything he'd ever smelled, yet so incredibly familiar that his tail flicked as he slowly and cautiously walked towards the figure.

It was warm, you noticed, and very humid. Not quite uncomfortably, but even the breeze rolled warmly over your skin. Everything was red, even the sky, which had a large pentagram stretching across what looked to be the moon- though it was bright out.

Footsteps were approaching and you turned looking up at the tall woman in front of you. She leaned down, slowly. "Hello, doll. My name is Rosie. Where did you come from?" She reached her hand out, and you slowly took it. "I-I'm not sure.. what was I-" It came back to you, much quicker than anticipated.

Alastor was dead. You killed your friends, and then yourself. You looked around as you were pulled to your feet. "Where in the world am I?" You asked, truly puzzled. "You're in Hell, dear." Suddenly her face lit up, "Or should I say deer; look at you!" Your expression crumpled as you looked down at your feet- which were now hooves. You jumped back a bit as you felt something behind you and you stretched around, looking at the small, fluffy tail attached to your tailbone.

Your head snapped back to the woman. "What in God's name-"

You froze as something caught your attention; a smell. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, a subconscious smile creeping onto your face. "What's that smell?" You opened your eyes, looking back to Rosie. "I'm not sure, dear. It could be a multitude of things- Alastor, dear, you're outside!"

You eyes flicked impossibly fast to the figure now standing next to Rosie. Your eyes locked with the figures, and you found that you couldn't breathe.

There was a long silence.

"My God." Rosie said, her hand clasping together as she moved out of the way; he was walking towards you.

You felt something against your head, not aware of the ears now flattened against your head, and your eyes began to well with tears. This demon before you looked so different than your husband, yet below the grey skin, red hair, and sharp teeth; you could see him, feel him.

He was right in front of you now, but he seemed almost apprehensive. "..Dearest?"

Static washed over you, and he sounded as though he was speaking directly out of a radio. You almost fell again, but he caught you, pulling you into his arms. You began to sob, burying your face into his neck as your body shook against his.

He shot Rosie a concerned look, who nodded and rushed towards her house, holding the door open as Alastor carried you inside.

•°•♡•°•

part two is in the works :'>

i have my own writing schedule and it is not consistent, but i hope you enjoy none the less!

taglist: @hazelfoureyes, @certainlygay, @writer-girl99, @mcntsee, @moonmark98, @olive-frog, @purplerose291, @angelofthorr, @yourdoorisunlocked

YA'LL ARE SO TALENTED EVERYONE CLAP THIS TF UP!! 👏👏👏

THE HIGH COUNCIL APPROVES! 💞💞💗

Concept from a few days ago that has been ROTTING my brain. BIKER ANGEL BABYYY!!! Something I didn't know I needed in life-

Hes so cool and like, idk I just need to consume more media where angel is being badass. DGMW!!! I LOVE HIS PRETTY FEM SIDE. But also I think ppl forget he's a chaos maker/ prankster/ turf war participator who will run you down without hesitation if in a fight uvu