Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The hotel residents were gathered in the lavish reception area, the air filled with the chatter and clinking of glasses as they mingled. Cherri revelled at the latest rumor circulating amongst the streets of hell.

"Holy shit, Angel! Have you heard? Val's really done it this time," Cherri exclaimed, her eye wide with scandalized delight.

The actor, lounging nearby with a fruity cocktail in hand, rolled his eyes. "Oh, he's grabbed a girl off the streets and sold her to some horny bastard, you say?" He took another swig of his drink, unfazed. "Sounds like a typical Tuesday for Val, to be honest."

Charlie, being the kind-hearted individual she was, frowned with concern. "That's terrible! Is she going to be okay? If you ever see her Angel, please tell her she's always welcome to come stay here at the hotel," Charlie said earnestly.

The star shook his head, setting his glass down on the ornate side table. "Can't happen, toots. Val's souls have to stay at the studio, I'm practically the only exception. It's in the contract they sign."

Charlie sighed, her heart aching for the unknown girl. "I just wish there was something I could do to help her..."

Lucifer, overhearing the conversation, scoffed at his daughter's naivety. "Oh Charlie, my sweet summer child, everyone's in it for something. If that girl sold her soul, she likely had her own reasons and gains in mind. Not all is as altruistic as your bleeding heart would have you believe." He smirked, taking a swing of his glass of champagne.

"I'd hate to admit it, but I agree with your father. Some souls are simply beyond saving, or perhaps, beyond the need for saving." Alastor spoke from the entrance, drawing the attention of the hotels residents.

Vaggie scowled at the late arrival of their esteemed host. She planted her hands on her ample hips, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "And where the hell have you been, Alastor? You've been gone for two days, and we're meant to be hosting the biggest event of the season! I swear, if you've messed this up, I'll personally shove that fancy cane of yours where the sun don't shine." Vaggie's voice rose with each word, her patience wearing thinner by the second. The other guests shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to be scandalized or amused by the heated exchange.

Alastor held up a hand, silencing Vaggie's tirade with a sharp gesture. "Oh, calm yourself," he chastised, his voice dripping with condescension. "In my absence, I have prepared... arrangements." With a snap of his fingers, the shadows in the grand foyer seemed to come alive, and out stepped a dozen or so figures.

Immediately, the souls sprang into action, their movements precise and synchronized. Some began to hang shimmering gold banners from the ornate chandeliers, while others set about arranging elaborate floral displays in the grand foyer. The air was filled with the sound of clinking glasses and the rustling of fine fabrics as Alastor's minions transformed the hotel into a glittering paradise, all under their dark master's watchful gaze.

Vaggie's scowl softened slightly as she took in the swift progress of the decorations. "Well, I suppose this is... adequate," she grumbled, trying to maintain her stern demeanor even as her eyes widened at the opulent scene unfolding before her. The other guests murmured in impressed awe, their earlier complaints forgotten in the face of such a lavish display.

Alastor smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed the fruits of his labor. "I'm glad you approve," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a matter to attend to." With that, he turned and strode towards the elevators.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he noticed a crimson stain on the back of Alastor's otherwise impeccable trousers. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Wait a moment, Alastor," he called out, his voice cutting through the bustling activity in the foyer. "Did you get your period?" Lucifer's tone was laced with mocking amusement as he gestured towards the bloodstain.

Alastor's head swiveled around like an owl's, his gaze locking onto the devil with a mix of annoyance and irritation. "How observant of you, my lord," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I had thought the state of my attire rather beneath your notice."

Charlie, ever the compassionate soul, pushed past her father, her brow furrowed with concern. "Al, are you okay? Are you bleeding from somewhere?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Alastor waved away her concern with a dismissive hand, his grin tightening. "A mere stain from my trip to cannibal town, you know how utterly undignified some of those savages can be with their eating manners," he said, his tone filled with annoyance at the mere memory. "Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, he turned back towards the elevators, leaving the residents to their own devices.

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The girl stirred from her fitful slumber, her head pounding like a drum as she slowly opened her eyes. She found herself in a sterile, white room, the antiseptic scent of disinfectant assaulting her nostrils. A thin IV tube snaked from her arm, connected to a drip bag hanging beside the bed. Panic began to rise in her chest as the events of the night crashed back into her, leaving her feeling violated and used.

Before she could fully succumb to her rising hysteria, a gentle hand caressed her cheek, startling her back to the present. The girl turned her head to see Valentino sitting beside her bed, his eyes filled with a mocking concern that made her skin crawl.

"Ah, bonita, did you get some good rest, hm?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sympathy. The girl winced as he casually mentioned the brutal assault she had endured. "Alastor certainly tore through your vagina, didn't he? Should have regenerated by now, yes?"

The girl shook her head weakly, her regenerative abilities proving far slower than the other denizens of Hell. She could still feel the ache of the brutal violation, her body struggling to heal from the devastating damage inflicted upon it.

Valentino hummed thoughtfully, a look of disappointment crossing his handsome features. "Well, it seems you're of no use to me then," he sighed, standing up from his chair beside her bed. The girl watched him warily, fearing what his next words might be. "It's a shame, that clip we made together did bring in quite a bit of money, but keeping you here in this chic room is proving to be rather expensive."

The girl's heart raced as she realized the gravity of her situation. She reached out a trembling hand, grasping for any hope. "Wait!" she yelped, desperation coloring her voice. "Can't I do... less extreme work?" She held her breath, praying that Valentino might show mercy, might give her a chance to prove her worth beyond being a plaything for the depraved desires of Hell's denizens.

Valentino let out a harsh, barking laugh at the girl's desperate plea. He looked down at her, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he shook his head. "No, mi amor. That's all you're good for," he said, his tone making it clear that he saw no value in her beyond her ability to satisfy the twisted whims of those in power.

He turned to leave, intent on transferring her soul to Alastor's keeping. The girl's heart raced as she realized the dire situation she found herself in. Being passed from one monster to another, her fate sealed to a life of endless torment and abuse.

With a final, mocking pat on her cheek, Valentino headed for the door. "I'll have the paperwork drawn up and your soul transferred to Alastor. Congratulations, you're officially his problem now," he called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with false congratulations.

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Alastor was in the midst of setting up for his next radio broadcast, the flickering lights of the studio casting an eerie glow across his chiseled features. The clatter of equipment and the crackle of static filled the air as he made final adjustments, his eyes glinting with a manic intensity.

Just as he was about to begin, a sudden knock at the door startled him from his reverie. Alastor's lips curled into a sneer “come in” The door creaked open, revealing a timid imp, its small form nearly trembling as it approached the radio demon with trepidation.

"My lord," the imp stammered, its voice barely above a whisper. "I have a letter for you, sir." The creature held out a pink envelope, its hand shaking as it extended it towards the formidable demon.

Alastor snatched the letter from the imp's grasp, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unmistakable shade of pink, a clear indication of its sender. Valentino's signature color was as much a mark of his vanity as it was a declaration of his twisted sense of style.

"Thank you..." Alastor growled, his voice a low, threatening rumble. The imp's eyes widened in fear, and it took a tentative step back, as if sensing the impending storm. "Now run along," Alastor commanded, a flash of terror crossing his face. The imp needed no further encouragement, scurrying out of the room with unnatural speed, eager to put as much distance as possible between itself and the volatile demon.

Alastor unfolded the letter, his eyes narrowing as he read Valentino's haughty script.

"Dear friend,

I am writing to inform you that I shall be transferring the soul of that darling girl, the one you so thoroughly defiled, into your keeping. I'm afraid she has proven quite...unremarkable, and thus, utterly useless to me.

Pleasure doing business with you,

Valentino”

Alastor's lips curled into a smug smirk as he read Valentino's words, a wicked gleam appearing in his eyes. Things were falling neatly into place. This newfound power over her would ensure she remained his obedient plaything, never daring to utter a word of the depraved torment he subjected her to.

Additionally, by "liberating" her from Valentino's clutches, Alastor would no doubt be seen as a benevolent saviour in Charlie's eyes. This newfound trust and goodwill could prove invaluable in Alastor's ongoing schemes.

With a dark chuckle he set the letter ablaze between his fingers.

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The girl remained on the infirmary bed, her mind racing with dread as she contemplated the bleak future that awaited her. She was a broken toy, cast aside by one monster only to be claimed by another. Tears streamed down her face as despair gripped her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Suddenly, the shadows in the room began to morph and shift, dark tendrils snaking across the sterile walls. The girl's breath hitched in her throat as she realized she was once again in the presence of the terrifying radio demon, Alastor. This time, however, she was too depleted, too shattered to even muster a scream.

As Alastor approached her bedside, the girl could only shake her head from side to side, a silent denial of the horrors that were surely to come. She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she trembled like a leaf in the wind.

"Oh, my darling," Alastor cooed, his voice dripping with false sympathy as he drew near. He moved with the predatory grace of a tiger stalking its prey, each step measured and deliberate. The girl could feel the heat of his presence, the dark power that radiated from his form like a palpable aura.

To her shock, the girl found herself unable to speak, her voice lodged in her throat as she stared up at the imposing demon. Alastor's eyes, those piercing, hypnotic orbs that seemed to see straight into her very soul, gazed down at her with a mixture of amusement and cruel compassion.

"I'm not going to hurt you, my precious pearl," Alastor murmured, his tone low and soothing, like a serpent's hiss. The girl shuddered, unsure whether to believe him or not. After all, this demon had already shown her the depths of his cruelty, had violated and defiled her in the most intimate of ways.

And yet, as she gazed up at him, the girl felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence, a twisted sense of safety that she knew could easily be shattered at any moment. She was trapped, a prisoner of her own shattered mind and the dark desires of those who sought to control her.

The girl could only hope that Alastor would be different, that perhaps he would show her a shred of mercy in the face of her utter despair.

Alastor sat casually in the chair beside the girl's bed, his posture relaxed yet still commanding an aura of dark power. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her tear-stained face with a critical eye.

"You didn't know what we had planned together, my dear?" Alastor questioned, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air. The girl could only shake her head, unable to meet the demon's piercing gaze as she stared up at the sterile ceiling instead.

A flicker of confusion crossed Alastor's chiseled features as he continued, "I had assumed Valentino would have filled you in on the details, given the...intimate nature of our little encounter." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.

The girl's lip trembled violently as she struggled to find her voice. "N-no," she managed to choke out, shaking her head in fervent denial. “I’ve never done anything like this before. He told me we’d have fun together and do a bit of BDSM but…i’ve never…I didn’t know” Her words dissolved into a choked sob, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

Alastor's brow furrowed, a look of consternation on his face as he listened to the girl's desperate confession. "You're not a porn star?" he asked, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone. "But surely you must have realized that the...reactions, the pain you expressed, they were all a part of the act?" He leaned in closer, studying her face intently.

The girl shook her head vehemently, fresh tears spilling down her face. "N-no," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper. "It...it wasn't an act. It was real, all of it was real. I had no idea you would...that it would be like that." She shuddered, the memory of the brutal violation still fresh in her mind.

Alastor leaned back in the chair, a look of genuine confusion and disbelief on his handsome face as he listened to the girl's tearful confession. He shook his head, as if trying to make sense of her words, before looking away with a heavy sigh.

"My word...you didn't agree to any of that?" Alastor murmured, his voice laced with a hint of incredulity. "But that simply cannot be the case, my dear." He paused, his gaze still averted as if lost in thought for a moment before turning back to face her, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and something else, something that almost resembled sincerity.

"Please, tell me that you wanted it," Alastor coaxed, his deep baritone gently urging her to confess the truth he so desperately wanted to hear. "Tell me that you weren't cruelly misled by that charlatan Valentino." His brows furrowed, a look of genuine distress on his chiseled features as he awaited her response.

The girl's voice trembled as she recounted Valentino's cruel words, the memory of his deceit fresh in her mind. She gazed up at Alastor, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears and desperate for any shred of compassion from the demon.

"He...he told me there was no safe word, no way to make it stop," she whispered, her words catching in her throat. "He said I could only beg and scream and cry because...because you would like it." The girl's lip quivered, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she awaited Alastor's reaction to this revelation.

"So that blackguard took advantage of your innocence and naivety," Alastor growled, his voice low and menacing. "He lied to you, manipulated you, and forced you into a situation you were not prepared for, all for his own twisted amusement." The demon shook his head, a look of regret and sympathy in his eyes as he reached out to gently take the girl's hand in his own.

"Please forgive me, my dear," Alastor murmured, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles. "I had no idea that Valentino had deceived you so cruelly. You have been through a terrible ordeal, and I am truly sorry that you were subjected to such pain and fear." He squeezed her hand gently, a silent promise of protection and support.

"From now on, I vow to be honest with you, to never deceive you as he did," Alastor declared, his voice filled with a sincerity that made the girl want to believe him. "Together, we will find a way to heal from this trauma and build a new life, one where you are cherished and respected." The demon's eyes shone with a warmth that made the girl feel a flicker of hope, a glimmer of trust in the midst of her despair.

“Will you free my soul?” She asked.

Alastor's thumb continued its gentle caress of the girl's hand, the intimate gesture a stark contrast to the cold, hard truth of his next words. He gazed into her tearful eyes, his own dark orbs filled with a mix of sympathy and unyielding resolve.

"Oh, my sweet girl," Alastor murmured, his voice low and filled with a false tenderness. "I simply cannot allow you to be freed, not when your soul is now so deeply entwined with mine." His grip on her hand tightened slightly, a silent warning and reminder of his power over her.

The girl's heart raced, a flicker of hope dying in her chest as she realized the true nature of her newfound predicament. Alastor continued, his tone shifting to one of stern warning.

"You see, with your soul now in my ownership, I have the ability to offer you protection and power beyond your wildest dreams. As my charge, I can shield you from the worst of Hell's cruelties, guide you to greatness and glory." His eyes glinted with a promise of dark rewards, a tempting allure for a soul so battered and lost.

Alastor paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the girl's ear as he whispered his next words. "However, there is another matter we must discuss, my dear. The events of that fateful night, the...indiscretions that transpired, they must remain a secret between us." His voice dropped to a low, ominous rumble, sending a shiver down the girl's spine.

"If you were to speak of what happened, to utter a single word of our intimate encounter, there would be consequences far beyond your comprehension," Alastor warned, his grip on her hand tightening almost painfully. "This soul binding, this sacred pact between us, demands silence and discretion. If you break this vow, if you allow even a whisper of the truth to escape your lips, your soul will be destroyed. Do you understand, petal?" His eyes bored into hers, a dark and unyielding force that demanded her compliance.

The girl nodded slowly, a glimmer of desperate hope shining in her tear-filled eyes. Alastor's remorseful words and promise of protection seemed like a lifeline in the stormy sea of her despair. She knew she had little choice but to trust in his offer, to cling to the faint hope that he could shield her from further torment.

Alastor's grin widened, a triumphant and almost affectionate curve of his lips as he witnessed her silent agreement. He held out his hand to her, a silent invitation and a tangible symbol of the dark pact they were about to forge.

"This handshake will finalize our deal, my dear," Alastor declared, his voice filled with a newfound warmth and enthusiasm. "I will grant you the gift of enhanced regenerative powers, allowing your body to heal with a speed and strength you never thought possible. You will be imbued with the power to fend off anyone who dares to threaten you, to stand tall against the trials and tribulations that Hell may throw your way."

The demon's eyes gleamed with the promise of newfound might and resilience, a tempting offer for a soul so battered and weary. Alastor paused, allowing the girl a moment to absorb the incredible boons he was bestowing upon her.

"In return," he continued, his tone shifting to one of gentle but firm expectation, "you must vow to keep our secret, our intimate encounter locked away in the depths of your mind, never to be spoken of aloud. Discretion and silence will be your watchwords, a sacred vow between us."

Alastor's grip on her hand tightened, a silent demand for her obedience and fealty. "And finally, you must promise to be obedient, to follow my guidance and commands without hesitation or question. Your soul belongs to me now, and with that ownership comes the expectation of complete devotion."

The demon's eyes bored into the girl's, a dark and unyielding force that seemed to peer into the very depths of her psyche. "So, do we have a deal, my dear?" Alastor asked, his voice a low and seductive rumble that promised power, protection, and a new beginning for the shattered girl.

As the girl's small, delicate hand enveloped Alastor's large, powerful one, a sudden surge of green energy erupted between them. The infirmary room filled with an ethereal, emerald glow that seemed to seep into every corner, banishing the sterile cold and replacing it with a warm, pulsing light.

Voodoo symbols, ancient and arcane, materialized out of the shimmering green haze. They swirled and danced around the entwined hands of the demon and his new charge, their shapes etched in the air like glowing, ghostly tattoos. The symbols pulsed with a life of their own, a tangible manifestation of the dark pact being forged.

Alastor's grin widened, stretching into a grotesque, manic smile as he felt the girl's hand trembling in his grasp. His eyes, those piercing orbs that had once filled her with such dread, now glowed with an otherworldly green light. The irises seemed to melt and shift, transforming into twin green radio dials that spun and whirred with a hypnotic, mesmerizing energy.

The girl gasped as she felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of strength and vitality coursing through her veins. It was as if every cell in her battered body had come alive, repairing and healing at a speed she never thought possible. The aches and pains that had plagued her, the lingering agony of her brutal violation, all melted away in an instant.

She marveled at the sudden ease with which she could now move her limbs, the way her muscles twitched with a newfound power and energy. It was as if Alastor's touch had unleashed something primal and ancient within her, a hidden wellspring of strength and resilience waiting to be tapped.

As the green glow began to fade, the voodoo symbols dissolving into the air like mist beneath the morning sun, Alastor tightened his grip on the girl's hand. His eyes, no longer glowing with eldritch light, now shone with a newfound warmth and approval.

"Welcome to your new life, my dear," Alastor purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "With this handshake, you have sealed your fate and bound your soul to mine. Together, we shall face whatever trials and temptations Hell may throw our way, and you shall emerge stronger than ever before."