Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In life, finding your soulmate is said to be impossible. And more often than not, you never end up finding your true fate. Pray tell whether you never met, lived across states, or were separated by centuries themselves. Life was cruel like that. It enjoyed playing tricks, ruining your mortal existence.

But there was still hope that in life that one could meet their fate.

However, people like me never got such hope. Being afraid of the outside world was a curse. Falling comfortable in the routine of security was a lonely one.

And that was the path I always walked.

Home, work, home, work, home, work.

That was my life.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I carefully placed the books on the shelves of the New Orleans book store. Sure, there were bigger, bolder places to work, and the small dainty library I found my place in was definitely not one of them. But the quiet little book store that resided on this small street was the perfect spot. If it was up to me, I would stay at my little apartment all day, but money is kind of essential and what better place to work than somewhere quiet and literally down the street from where you live.

I was lucky enough to procure a nice little job here. Days were mostly quiet, with a handful of people coming to borrow or return books. It was nice and peaceful, perfect for a true introvert such as myself.
Which is probably the reason I haven’t found my destined partner.

Days were mostly the same. An endless cycle most would find boring, but for me, it felt safe. There was safety in routine, not gaining the attention of anyone.

Which is what I intended to do.

After my crappy beginnings to life, I knew I had to hide away, keep a low head so that HE doesn't find me again. Because a shithead like that never just lets things go.

Wrapping my hands around the white metal trolley, I calmly strode down the many isles of the store, stopping momentarily to place books in their designated spaces. Giving a quick head nod to a customer, her teeth flashing in a bright smile, I swiftly continued on with my work.

Parking the trolley at the front desk, I rounded to the other side and quickly began to log in the new stock. My fingers wrapped around the smooth pen, eyes tracing each inky word as I scribbled down titles and authors in ink.

Quietly humming to myself, the sound of the front bell ringing made my insides jump. With a flash of fear I shifted my gaze to the front, only to feel my heart rate slow. A small smile creeped on my face at the comforting sight of Mimzy. Sure, she never came here to buy any books, I wasn’t even sure if she knew how to read, but after sheltering her from a bunch of Loan Sharks, she had made it her custom to visit me during work hours.

“Mimzy, how are you?” I asked as I signed another book into the log.

“Oh the same as always hun,” she bounded down to the front desk, her dress swaying with her hips, “Had to deal with a few fuckers at the club last night, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Giggling at her words, I ducked behind the desk to quickly grab another book, “I don’t think there is any man you can’t handle Mimzy.”

Mimzy hummed before hopping up onto the countertop, legs hanging over the edge as she looked back at me. She was quite the short lady, but that didn’t stop men from dropping dead at the mere sight of her. The way she walked, talked, acted, it was all with an intoxicating confidence. A confidence I was jealous of. How I wished I had even a sliver of her swagger, everything would change. I wouldn't be working in a tiny book store, I’d finally get my nursing degree, finally reaching my dreams. Just like how Mimzy did with her singing.

But that wasn’t me.

“How’s the search going?”

“Oh, um, there’s not really a search happening. You know this,” I shrugged as I placed stacks of books onto the small trolley, “I gave up on that a long time ago.”

Shaking her head Mimzy sighed, “Darling, you need to stop being so afraid of living. You really do act like a frightened deer, you know that. I should make ears out of your hair, then maybe you would look the part too.”
“I know, I’m just afraid,” I huffed, before pushing the cart toward the many rows of shelves. Mimzy hopped down from the counter as she followed me through the library.

“Darl, you should put yourself out there. You never know who you might stumble into. Maybe he is super hot,” Mimzy wiggled her eyebrows.

I paused for a moment as I glanced down at her, “How do you know it's a man? Besides, you talk big for someone who left their husband.”

“Sweetie, we both know you're as straight as they come,” I rolled my eyes as she continued to speak, “and I chose to not pursue that hunk of meat. There's a difference between choosing not to be with someone and being too scared to even look.”

“But like, what if he is a jerk? Or a psycho or something.”

“Honey, you're in New Orleans, everyone is a psycho.”

“Fair point,” I mumbled, before sighing. Slowly, I faced Mimzy, my ears dropping along with my tail, “It’s just. All my experiences in love have been junk, you know that, and I guess I’m scared that if I look, I’ll find someone who is just like HIM.”

Mimzy’s eyes softened as she met my gaze. Jutting her hip out to the side, she placed a hand on her hip.
“I understand hun, I truly do. But maybe letting that man ruin your life is not the answer. I’m not saying you should not be careful, I’m just saying don’t let him ruin your fun.” I weakly smiled, and nodded. It was always the same with Mimzy. A little ball of confidence while I was a shaking mess. Just like a piece of prey. “Well, hun, what about that handsome devil that always comes around here?” She threw the suggestion around with a wave of her hand.

My face warmed as I awkwardly smiled, avoiding all eye contact with Mimzy as I breathed, “I don’t know who you are talking about.” Kicking out a ladder from under the desk, I climbed the small stool, placing books from the trolley onto the back shelf for pre-orders.

“Oh sugar, you know who,” I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Alastor.” Frantically I shook my head, face warm as I stumbled over my words. As I continued to fall over my own mouth, Mimzy chuckled, “You have to admit honey, Alastor would be perfect, and you know it.”

“I would be perfect for what now?” A deeply accented voice shivered through me, my shoulders tensing as I whipped my head around. My face was burning hot, cheeks most definitely red, along with the tips of my ears. He held that usual charming smile, his slicked back brown hair and devious eyes making my stomach flip with butterflies. It was embarrassing how simply looking at him made me want to faint, but his voice and charming personality was absolutely hypnotizing.

And it annoyed me to no end, because I was no better than any woman he ever came into contact with.
Swooned by a simple smile.

Pathetic.

Yet, here I was, swooning.

“Oh, Alastor,” I stuttered, “Nothing… Mimzy was just… we weren’t.” In a panic, I leaned back, my feet stumbling as I went to step toward him, forgetting I was on a mini ladder. The wooden stepping stool shook under me, falling onto its two back legs as it began to fall back. My arms waved around as I squealed, frantically grabbing at the edges of the bookshelf. Quickly pushing the stool back onto its four legs, I let out a breath.

Alastor, in all his gentlemanly ways, was standing behind me, his hands raised and ready to catch me if I fell. His smile had twisted into concern, a rare sight for the radio host, but he was only human.

As I slowly backed down the ladder, he kept his hands near my waist, ready at a moment's notice for another fall. The moment my feet were secure on the ground, his usual smile returned.

“You should be more careful,” he grinned as he rounded back toward the front of the desk.

“Life isn’t fun without a bit of danger,” I joked as I placed my hands folded on the wooden countertop, “What can I do for you today Alastor?”

“Just collecting a pre-ordered novel as usual darling,” trying not to shiver at his smooth accent, I nodded before searching through the pile of books left on the trolley. I’d rather not have to climb that ladder again and nearly fall without reason. “So, what were you lovely ladies talking about?” He asked as I bent down toward the bottom level of the cart.

“Just trying to get this party pooper out of her nest so she can get herself a man," Mimzy sighed, “hun, you really should come down to the club tonight, I’m singing and have a handful of men that would be delighted to meet you. They are all handsomely rich.”

“And most likely awfully old,” I sighed, “you know it's not my thing Mimzy.” My eyes scanned the various names, pausing as I read Alastor Hartfelt. With a small smile, I pried the book free from its spot underneath the pile.

“(Y/N) how do you expect to meet the man of your dreams if you just waste your time waiting,” Mimzy, the kind soul, was genuinely concerned. I had only ever told her about my past, about what had happened. She knew I struggled being alone, ever since my childhood I always have been. I had my weeks where I was fine, but some days were harder than others. Which she had dealt first hand with when I called her over the telephone in a panicked frenzy.

“If she doesn't want to go, I don’t see the harm in it,” Alastor shrugged, “(Y/N) is a capable woman.” Mimzy looked over at me from over my shoulder before huffing, flicking her hand toward Alastor with sass.
“Alastor, just because you have women falling at your feet doesn't mean everyone has a marriage offer every other day.”

“Just because women fall at my feet doesn't mean I have found someone either, I’m just saying having a bit of caution when trying to find a significant other is more than valid.” My heart grew sore. He hadn't found the one. I wasn’t the one. Not like I would be. I was just like everyone else. Why choose such a boring woman when he could get anyone to fall for him at the drop of a dime.

“Well, if we all keep at your pace of rejection, we’d all end up single and humanity would die,” Mimzy upturned her head before hopping down from the counter and flashing me a soft smile, "remember sweety, you're always welcome down to the joint I work at, you hear.”

I roll my eyes with a smile, “Thanks Mimzy.” She knew I wouldn’t take the offer.

I never did.

“Anything for you hun,” spinning on her heel, she quickly waved her hand back, flicking a few strands of her hair back, “I have to run, got a lot to do before opening tonight. See you later.”

“Bye, Mimzy,” I called after her as she bounded away, that swagger in her hips never fading as she strutted out of the library.

Grabbing onto the handle of the trolley, my grip tightened as I turned to face the many books I had left to shelve. The only good part of my day was over. Mimzy was so confident that sometimes it radiated off on me. And for even a breath I felt like I could actually maybe go out and try to find my match.

But the moment she left, it felt like I was left with nothing more than my fear and worry. I couldn’t handle being alone. But I also couldn't handle going out into the world. I was weak. Feeble.

“Heres your book, all pre-paid as usual,” I smiled, handing Alastor his butcher paper wrapped novel. Carefully taking it from my hands, his fingers briefly touching mine, his smile widened.

“Thank you (Y/N), say what time do you get off today?” He tilted his head slightly to the side as he tucked the book under his arm.

“Not for a few hours, you don’t need to hang around here just so you can walk me home again. You’re a busy man with that radio show of yours, you can't be spending all your time on me.”

“Of course I can,” he huffed, as if my dismissal was preposterous, “you are worth every moment of time (Y/N), don't let anyone tell you otherwise.” I blushed. There he goes again, charming my weak little heart.

—-

Flicking the lights off in the small book store, I quickly shuffled my way out of the front door, the bell ringing at my exit. Alastor waited patiently outside, his eyes soft as he watched me. With a jingle from my keys, I locked the building, giving the handle a few turns to make sure it was locked. Placing my keys back into my purse, I faced Alastor with a grin.

“Thanks again for walking me home,” I said as we began the short walk. Honestly, he had no reason to walk me. My home was less than a minute's walk and yet he waited hours browsing the same books over and over just so he could walk with me.

“Why of course, what kind of a gentleman would let you walk home alone,” he smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair back with his fingers.

We were quite on the short walk, the time not nearly enough to strike up any sort of conversation. But this is how it has always been ever since we met. Every day he came in with a new pre-order (don’t know how this guy had enough money to buy that many books), he’d wait however long it took me to finish work, then he walked me home. A weird routine, but it was a nice adjustment at the time.

Stopping at my doorstep, I took my keys back out before unlocking the entry door to my apartment. As the door opened, I was met with the set of stairs that led me home.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Alastor asked as always.

“No, I have the day off luckily,” I smiled.

“Well, until next time.” And with that he watched me close the door, his footsteps not sounding until he heard the click of my door lock.

How did he always manage to come in when I was working? He never asked what day I was working when I said I had time off. I shrugged before climbing the short set of stairs toward my home.

Chapter Text

The sound of laughter echoed around my small room as the nightlife began. The sun had set merely an hour ago, yet all sorts of people traversed past my apartment, each at different levels. Some sounded already drunk off their minds, while others were not drunk enough.

A soft breeze caressed the white sheer curtains that rested by the window, the long fabric nearly touching my bed, in which I actively covered my head with its duvet. Despite this street I lived on being peaceful during the day, the night was almost the opposite. Not a single joint existed down this street, making it the perfect spot for young couples and drunkards to traverse down, avoiding the gaze of the public and law as they took drugs or enacted intimate moments right outside my door.

Groaning, I shoved my sheets off as I trudged toward my window before slamming it shut. The only reason the window was open in the first place was because this little apartment had no air flow, the small space becoming stuffy in less than an hour. But suffocating to death was better than inhaling second hand jives and hearing the most disturbed screams of pleasure from random women.

Sighing, I shut the sheer curtains to add an extra barrier between me and the outside world. Brushing my fingers through my slightly tangled hair, I sat down on the edge of my bed, mind too frazzled to even think about sleeping.

“You’re too comfortable, you need to get out more,” I mumbled, mimicking Mimzy’s voice before huffing and crossing my arms, "What's so fun about getting high and having your face eaten off.” Rolling my eyes, I took a swift glance at the small mantle clock that rested on my bedside table, right next to two drastically different books. One focusing on medical practices and techniques, the other a cheesy romance. Staring at the second hand tick, I watched as it came full circle. “But life is passing you by,” I copied Mimzy’s voice once more, placing a hand on my chest and fluttering my eyelids like she would as I mimicked her once again.

Standing onto my feet, I circled the bed and paused before my full body mirror. The silky pale pink sleep wear I wore was loose against my frame, one side of the shirt hanging off my shoulder. I had bought the wrong size a few years back when I first moved here, but I never found the time to go back to exchange it for the right size.

A lie I tell myself.

I was too afraid to embarrass myself, to have those people staring at me and laugh, ‘how could you not know your own size’, ‘how dare you come to harass us about your mistake’, ‘you’re useless.’

Rubbing my arms, I turned away from myself. I stared at the ruffled sheets of my bed, the soft and overly sized mattress calling for me to join it for sleep. But as my eyes trailed toward the small clock once more, I bit the side of my cheek. Maybe I was letting life pass me by. Look where being the way I am has gotten me, over sized clothing, a bed too big for my room, and a pathetically lonely love life.

As I thought about my lonesome life, my mind wandered toward Alastor. He had always been there for me since the moment we met. It was my second day in the city when he came into the store and he had always been around since. But, he was just a gentleman. He said it himself he had no one he was interested in.

Twisting the silky fabric between my fingers, I stared down toward my bare feet. Strands of loose hair fell before my eyes as I blankly stared. Chewing on my bottom lip, I stole a quick glance at the mirror.

Maybe time was passing me by.

Maybe it was time to break the routine.

—--

I had no idea what I was doing.

People cheers around me, the constant clinking of glasses and shouts of heavily drunk men was nearly overwhelming. The world around me was a swirl of colour. All sorts of men and women whirled past me, some women less moderately dressed than others. A thick layer of cigarette smoke rested above the crowd, the crude smell burning my nose. The loud oddly seductive music swayed through the joint, drawing men and women's eyes alike toward the stage. There a blond woman sung, hips swaying to the jazz beat as she sung into the large metal microphone. I was disappointed not to find Mimzy up on the stage, but I wasn’t exactly sure how these places worked so for all I know I could have missed her performance.

Apologising as I bumped into a man's chest, I slithered through the tight environment, inhaling way too much perfume and cologne for my health. Reaching the edge of the club, I let out a relieved sigh as I spotted an open seat, perfectly placed by the bar.

Hugging the disturbingly sticky wall, I almost cried as I reached the circular seat, immediately claiming the stool as mine. My legs hung freely as I sat down, blood rushing toward my feet as they throbbed. Pulling at the strap of my dress, my eyes stared over the crowd and I wanted to sink into my own skin and disintegrate. I did not have the body to fit in with this crowd. Not even my clothes were a match. Because of my lack of social life, my clothing was rather simple. A plain red dress with simple straps. It was nothing compared to the embroidered shimmering dressed that the other women wore, with their thick jewelry and bright smiles.

I was out of my league.

“What can I get you?” a deep voice behind the bar counted made me jump, my head swiveling to face the brooding man. He was unamused, bags under his eyes as he glowered at me.

“Oh, I’m okay, I don’t really drink,” another plus of not going out, a single sip of any alcohol sent my sky high.

The man's eyes sharpened, nearly threatening, “If you don’t get a drink then you have to sit elsewhere. You’re blocking business.”

I lowered my head, gulping, “r-right, I’ll get a… what do others normally get?” What a stupid question, I sound like the shut in I am. I should just leave and go home, I was just making a fool of myself.

“The Bee’s Knees, The Old fashioned, Blood and Sand, take your pick,” he grumbled as he picked up a whisky glass and began cleaning it with a definitely dirty rag.

“I’ll do an Old Fashioned?” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but with a shrug the man grudgingly grabbed a few bottles and mixed the drink together. He did it with such speed and practice my mind didn’t even comprehend what went into the drink before he handed me the glass. With a curt thanks, I wrapped my fingers around the drink and stared into the liquid. “Thats just whisky,” I whispered to myself as I stared into the drink garnished with a lemon.

“Something wrong?” the bartender growled, brow raising.

“No, nothing, its great, yum,” I wrinkled my nose as I lied, lifting the drink with a silent cheers. Nodding, the bartender left to attend the other side of the bar. My shoulder relaxed as I placed the drink down.

I should learn how to keep my thoughts internal.

Swirling the drink absent mindedly, I once again faced the crowd. The laughter, the heat, the uncomfortable amount of smoke. My hands fell into my lap, my hands scrunching my dress's fabric as I tried to wipe off the sweat from them. It was hot, uncomfortably hot. The mix of the heat radiating off the crowd, the burning from lit cigars and the buzzing of overhead lights, it made me feel all clammy. How was nobody melting, or sweating? I was definitely sweating.

“Hey there little filly,” a young voice cooed from beside me. Bristling, I glanced to my side, I tensed as I stared at a young man. His black hair was messy, wet with sweat, his tie was loose with a few of the top buttons from his suit parted to reveal his collar. He wore a devilish smirk, eyes half lidded as he stared at me. Internally cringing, I spared him a strained smile before turning away and staring down at my drink. “What’s a looker like you doing alone at a bar like this,” he leaned in closer, the alcohol radiating from his breath taking away my own. I didn’t reply, just simply stared down at my drink.

Surely he would go away if I looked dead enough.

But he didn’t.

With a breathy chuckle, his alcohol laced breath almost intoxicating me, he leaned in even closer to whisper, “whats wrong, not going to take a sip of your drink?”

“I don’t really drink,” I straightened my back, trying to back away from him as much as I could without seeming rude.

“I bet you don’t. At least, I bet you don’t drink that,” he pointed toward the glass, a twisted smile growing on his face, showing way too many teeth, “I think you like to drink other things.”

I leaned back as he leaned in, “What do you- what?” My voice was strained. Whatever this man was talking about, I sure was no fan of whatever he was thinking.

“Oh I don’t mean nothing much,” he slurred, hand grabbing at my thigh way too high for conform, “I just mean, I think you like to choke as you drink. Don’t you?” His grip tightened on my leg as I tried to pull it away, his fingers digging into my skin as he began to ride his hand up.

“I think you got the wrong idea mister,” I words were high pitched, voice breaking as I panicked. Letting go of my drink I grabbed at his wrist that was dangerously high up on my thigh, but that was a mistake. His free hand that once rested on the table grasped at my wrist, bruising them as he pulled me closer to his face. I pulled against his hold, fearful tears pricking the corner of my eyes.

Was no one paying attention? Was no one seeing what was happening? Did no one care what happened?

“Oh I think I know,” his tongue licked his top teeth, “a fresh slut on the street. And I get first dibs.” The hand that was on my leg lifted, providing no send of relief as the man grasped my face, squeezing my cheeks in forming my lips to pucker. He pulled me head close toward his. I tried to pull back.

His face grew close and closer.

Until suddenly his hold on me vanished as he doubled back, hand rubbing the back of his head as he groaned. I instantly jumped off my seat, keeping the stool between me and the creep.

On the floor rested a singular high heel shoe, and by the glare the man gave it, I could guess that was what saved my life just now. And accompanies with the shoe was a short and raging woman.

Other shoe in hand, Mimzy stormed toward the man and waved it before his face, “you, get out of here right fucking now, before I call security to beat your ass.”

“You threw a show at me,” the man hissed, still rubbing his head.

“And I’ll stuff this one down your throat if you don’t get out of my sight,” Mimzy waved the spiked shoe, stance unwavering as she stood between me and the man.

“Whatever,” he growled before glaring up at me, “she was ugly anyways." The man stood up from the bar and stalked off into the crowd, vanishing into the sea of people. The moment he was gone, everything rushed into me at once. My heart pounded furiously, my lungs struggled to inhale, tears bubbled behind my eyes, my body shook, my throat tightened.
“(Y/N), honey, you alright?” Mimzy faced me, ignoring her bare feet as she slowly approached me. I took a step back as I nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine,” my nose scrunched from the lie, “I’m just going to go to the bathroom real quick.” Without another word I rushed to the bathroom, biting back tears as people bumped into me.

Pushing the door open, I quickly locked it behind me, and the second I heard the click, I burst. Tears fell, mascara flowed. My vision blurred as I staggered toward the bathroom sink. My breathing was ragged, uneven, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My legs quivered wanting to give in.

Flinging my hand over the tap, I hurriedly turned on the water, the rushing water masking my weak sobs. My shoulders lurched as I stood there, bent over the sink, tears freely flowing.

That man. His intentions. His words.

I lifted my head, staring at my red eyes. A slut. That man looked at me and saw an ugly slut. Was that what everyone saw? Was that all I was?

Then it hit me.

HE was right. HE was always right. I was a burden to the world. A broken piece that no one wanted. I was nothing. No one would care about me, no one would remember me.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the rushing water, the sound somewhat soothing. Sniffling, I grabbed a handful of paper towels, whipping my face free of makeup and discarding the stained paper in the bin.

I just wanted to go home.

Smoothing my dress and flattening my ruffled hair, I took in a partially controlled breath. Crossing my arms, I unlocked the door and traversed through the partying crowd. I didn’t look for Mimzy, I couldn't. She just saw what happened, how could I show my face to her? She just saw how weak I truly was. How pathetic I am.

I shook my head, ignoring the tears swelling behind my eyes as I shoved my way through the people.

Making it to the other side was like a breath of fresh air, literally. Climbing the stairs to the outside, the cool air made me shiver. Turning away from the club, I wandered onto the road, mind numb as I began to traverse across the street.

A horn sounded.

Lights blinded me.

I froze as I stared directly toward a car as it came hurtling toward me.

Inches before the car collided with me, a warm hand wrapped around my arm, yanking me back and out of the road. Stumbling in my heels, I fell backward, landing directly into the chest of a man. Blinking, I lifted my face from the warm chest and glanced up only to be face to face with no one other than-

Alastor.

Chapter Text

Alastor stared down at me, his brown eyes wide with worry. His arms wrapped around my body as I remained pressed into his chest. Just moments ago he saved me from being hit by a car and here I was, absolutely balling my eyes out.

Pathetic.

But Alastor made no move to push me away, he just stood there, holding me, letting me absolutely ruin his clothing.

Slowly pulling back with a sniffle, I wiped my tears from my face as I took a step back from Alastor. He slowly let me go, his body hesitating before he allowed me to take a step back.

“(Y/N), what are you doing out here?” he asked, his words soft as I met his gaze.

I sniffled as I replied, “I was trying to take Mimzy’s advice. I wanted to be exciting, interesting, but it was a mistake.” Blinking my eyes free from any more tears, I lowered my arms, crossing them over as I blacked out a cool breeze.

“What happened?” he asked slowly as he shrugged his coat off, throwing it over my shoulders. Pulling the warm scented fabric closer, my fingers pinching the soft coat as I held it over my shivering frame, I stared up at Alastor, eyes beginning to water again.

“Someone called me a slut and ugly and they tried to kiss me and they kept touching me and-and-and” my words fell over one another, a few stray tears falling down my face again. Delicately, Alastor placed his hands on my cheeks, fingers carefully wiping away the tears.

“Hey, it's okay, breathe for me, alright,” he whispered, taking a comforting step forward as I silently sobbed, “you’re safe now. Did he do anything else to you?” I swore I saw a spark of red behind his comforting brown eyes, but as I shook my head his body ever so slightly relaxed. Sniffling, I grabbed onto Alastor's hands. His eyes looked toward my hands, his eyes lowering toward my wrist, seeing the red marks left there.

Releasing my face, he changed his focus on the red marks, fingers brushing the red flesh. His brows furrowed as he growled. I had never seen Alastor look so angry, and by the strain on his face he was clearly holding himself back. He was usually so chipper, smiling at everyone without hesitation, but his frown and non-smiling lips were scarier than anything I had ever seen.

“Do you remember what this guy looked like,” he asked as he turned my wrists in his hands, thumbs slowly massaging the skin. I shook my head. It was probably a good idea to have remembered what that guy looked like so I could report him to the police, but after all of that, I drew a blank, my brain not wanting to even remember what happened just a few moments ago.

“Mimzy saw him,” I mumbled, eyes watching his face as he looked over my wrists. Meeting my gaze, Alastor nodded, a strange spark behind his eyes making the hairs on the back of my neck raise, a tingle shivering down my spine. His eyes held such a confidence, such a strange power that was oddly alluring.

Carefully letting go of my wrists Alastor brushed the few strands of his hair back, his glasses hanging loosely over his nose. Pausing mid brush back, he stared down at me, a brow raising as a thought brought pause to his actions.

Bringing his hand down, he pointed at me as he blankly asked, “How did you get here?”

My face pulled into a tight smile as I suddenly found interest in the floor. I could lie, tell him I got a cab. But this man somehow always knew when I was lying. But if I told him I walked here by myself, in the dark, he would lose his marbles.

“I got a cab,” I lied, my eyes struggling to meet his. His gaze sharpened as his brow raised further.

“No you didn’t, don’t lie (Y/N).” He crossed his arms, unamused as I stood there silent for a moment.

“How do you always know when I’m lying,” I tried changing the subject. But he is never fooled so easily.

“How did you get here (Y/N),” his voice was stern, unquestioning. And I gave in.

“Fine,” I sighed as I puffed my cheeks out, “I may have walked here.”

“You… WHAT,” his voiced raised ever so slightly. Not a scream or a yell, just stern and strained. “Do you know how dangerous that is? What if you got hurt or worse? You can’t just go walking by yourself in the middle of the night!”

“It was only like eleven when I left.”
“That doesn’t make it-” he paused, taking a moment to breathe as he pushed his glasses up his nose, before they fell back in their usual spot, “If you ever want to go out at night again, just call me.”

“But I didn’t even know if you were home, besides, I don’t want to disturb you,” I mumbled.

“(Y/N), you will never disturb me okay, call whenever, whether I’m at work or not okay, just call me,” his words were soft, his concern etched into every word. The sincerity, the truth behind what he offered.

My heart fluttered.

I knew it had to shut up. He was just being gentlemanly, he didn’t like me like that. But his actions, words, gentleness, I couldn't stop myself from falling deeper into a pit I couldn't get myself out of.

“yeah , okay,” I mumbled, dazed. With a nod, Alastor’s usual smile slowly returned as he guided me toward the side of the pavement, his hand raised to hail a passing taxi. But without thought, I quickly pulled his arm down. His head swiveled to face me, brows furrowed. “Can we walk, it’s not that far.”

His eyes widened, “What? It’s dangerous to walk at night. I literally just said that.”

“Actually, you said it's dangerous to walk alone. But if you’re with me then it should be fine.” He stared at me with a flat face. He was not amused with my play on his words. Now, that was one good thing that came out of reading hundreds of books for your job, you get pretty good at twisting words to your advantage. Sure I didn’t do it much, I found it distasteful and dishonest, but in this case, I needed to. The fresh air from the nightly winds was too sweet to pass up so quickly. I may not be a party gal, but I am one for the slow moment. “We get to walk through a park and besides,” my head lowered as I stared down at my feet, “I kind of want to clear my head a bit.”

Glancing between me and the passing taxis, he let out a defeated sigh. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alastor faintly shook his head. His shoulders raised slightly as his muscles tensed.

“Okay, fine, but stick close alright,” he said. I gave a quick single nod as I took my spot on his right side, him actively taking the side closer to the road as we began our short journey to my home.
—-

The park was peaceful. Not a soul in sight. The overhead lamps flickered, but they remained strong, keeping the pathway clearly lit as me and Alastor silently walked. Since the club, we hadn’t spoken. Which I didn’t mind. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. My mind kept rushing through what ifs from that situation with that man. It was disturbing how many scenarios a mind can go through in the span of minutes.

I could have been forced into intimacy.

I could have been harmed.

I could have been kidnapped. Drugged. Disfigured. Killed.

The list was endless. And the further I thought, the further I fell. My stomach twisted uncomfortably. If Mimzy wasn’t there, would I have fought him off? Would I have been able to? Or would I have just let fate do as it wished? I’m not strong enough to fight fate. I wasn’t even strong enough to return stupid clothes.

I had been so deep in thought I hadn’t even realised I had stopped walking. Alastor, barely a step in front of me, faced me, his attention undivided.

“Let’s sit for a bit,” he guided me toward a bench, the ghost of his hand hovering, but never touching, my waist. Sweeping the bench clear of stray twigs and patches of dirt, we both sat down. He kept a respectable distance between us, but remained close enough just so I could feel the heat radiate from his body.

Leaning back, I pulled Alastor's coat tighter around me as I stared at the few trees within the grassy park. My eyes followed their unnaturally straight line as they lined the edge of the pavement, creating a false sense of nature.

“Why did you really go out tonight,” Alastor asked, his traversing around us, scanning for any potential danger. Despite his guard-like patrolling, his body was strangely relaxed, as if he knew we were already safe. I shook my head.

“I went out because Mimzy is right about my life. If I don’t try, how can I expect to find myself a husband?” I whispered, hands resting on my knees. My heel clicked against the pavement as I nervously bounced my leg up and down in an attempt to distract myself from my tightening throat.

“And your husband is at a party joint,” I could also see his brow raise, a hint of curiosity in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. But I refused to look at him.

I grip at the fabric of my dress, biting back tears. Alastor was right, it was stupid. Finding a husband at a place I wouldn’t be caught dead in on a good day.

“Yeah, maybe not the best place to look,” I cringed at the strain I put on my words, words shaking. Letting go of my dress I covered my face with my hands, elbows digging into my knees as I curled up, “Gosh I’m pathetic.”

“You are many things, my dear, but pathetic is not one of them.” I shivered as he deepened his voice, his light hearted tone contrasting with the depth at which simple words struck me. How could he not see me as pathetic. Weak. He was so perfect. And here I was crying again.

Moving back against the bench, my hands balling into fists, I blinked as I stared up toward the sky. The moon was bright despite its crescent phase, outshining every remaining star in the sky. Only a few stars dotted the sky. Only the brightest were able to fight against the city’s lights. Not nearly enough.

“You live outside the city don’t you?”

Sensing my need to change topics, Alastor looked up toward the sky with me, “Yeah.”

“Are the stars brighter over there?”

“I’d rather have you find out by yourself some time,” he simply replied. Before allowing me a moment to register his words, he pushed himself onto his feet. Giving his glasses a quick clean by ribbing it on the collar of his shirt, he extended a hand toward me, his warm chestnut skin almost glowing under the lamplight. “Let’s get you home.”

Sliding my fingers between his, he effortlessly lifted me to my feet, a smile etched on his face as he held my hand for a heartbeat longer before letting go.

He’s just being friendly.

He’s just being a gentleman.

Why is my heart beating so fast?

Chapter Text

“Another Man Missing”
“A young man named Theordore Thurman has gone missing late last night, last seen at the local joint known as Fortune Royal, has been declared by local law enforcements to be yet another victim of the New Orleans Murder cases. While Police are not yet certain on suspects at this time, they do issue a warning to alert nearby authorities of any suspicious behaviour and to refrain from any unnecessary trips after dark.”

My stomach dropped as my eyes skimmed the front paper of the morning news, every word hitting me like a knife. It was a scary thought that someone out there was murdering people at the prime of night. But as my eyes found their way to the photo of the presumed dead man, any remorse drifted away.

It was him.

That jerk from the bar.

I should have felt bad for him, sure, and I definitely felt bad for any family he had for losing someone you love must be awful, but for the man himself, I didn’t even spare a second glance at his missing portrait.

Folding the paper, I gently placed it at the edge of the table, uninterested in the rest of the black and white advertisements and sports reports. Carefully, my fingers carefully wrapped around the dainty tea cups handle, the soft clink of the porcelain leaving its spot on the tiny plate the only sound I had made in minutes.

Across from me, Mimzy lowered her own paper, chucking it to the side without a care. Leaning her elbow on the table, she placed her chin in her hand as she met my gaze.

Whenever I had a day off from work, we always hung out at the same coffee shop for a little morning tea gossip session. Well, usually she had the gossip, but it was fun either way. We even sometimes explored new sides of New Orleans by checking out new coffee shops. None really compared to our usual, maybe it was the sense of sentimental nature of this coffee shop being the first time we hung out as friends, but we still enjoyed it.

“A little worrisome about that murderer,” I started, bringing the plain white teacup to my lips, savouring the warmth of the bitter drink.

“Is it though, what are the chances that creep got killed right,” Mimzy remarked, a darkness crossing her face as she shared a smile. Now that I thought about it, it was rather lucky that man got caught up by the New Orleans murderer and not someone else. Must have been a wrong place, wrong time coincidence, he was rather drunk. “I say its a blessing that man got caught up in this murder spree,” Mimzy flapped her mouth without a care.

“Mimzy, that's a little insensitive,” I scrunched my face as I forced out the remainder of my sentence, “I’m sure he was a fine guy when not drunk.”

“Oh please (Y/N), men like that are never fine,” Mimzy huffed, which I returned with a simple shrug. Lowering my cup from my lips, I stared at the light brown cup of tea, the liquid swirling around the rim of the cup.

Glancing around the small coffee shop, I took notice of the various people, all reading the morning paper. Some passed on from the distraught front cover, while others simply remained glued to the murder. This New Orleans murder spree had been going on for a few years now, even before I arrived. Many suspects were caught and trialled but nothing ever came of it. Some suspect its different people, some say its multiple, or a cult, and some even say this is the work of a single man.

I found that hard to believe.

How could one man get around so fast. To kill and make sure there is no evidence of yourself left anywhere or the victim, then somehow dispose of the body. It had to be a cult. Or at least two people. Because if it was one person, I would have to admit that it was a rather incredible feat. Horrible indeed, but impressive to be so meticulous.

As MImzy let out a dreamy sigh, drawing my attention back toward her, I raised a brow as she stared at me with a half lidded gaze and a lazy smile. Bringing my tea up to my lips once more, I took another long sip.

“You must admit, I think this whole murder thing is kind of hot.” I choked. Tea burned my throat and lungs as I inhaled the hot beverage. My hand flew to my mouth as I tried to silently cough.

Sputtering, I struggled out a confused, “What.”

“Oh come on, imagine a man out there killing someone for you. Now that’s sexy,” she wiggled her eyebrows in sync with her shoulders as she thought about it.

Was it wrong for me to think I kind of understood where she was coming from. I mean, the thought of that creep being killed for her was such a wild fantasy that it did make my knees tremble a little.

Rolling my eyes I mumbled, “If you ignore morals maybe.”

“See, even you think it's a smidge sexy,” Mimzy laughed loudly, bringing many eyes from the coffee shop to turn our way. Raising my arm, placing my elbow on the table, I blocked my face from peoples view as they stared.

“Mimzy, lower your voice,” I whispered, feeling the heat from others stared burning through my hand.

“Honey,” she drags out the word sweetly, “You know I have no shame, everyone can look at me and you know I’d love it.” Pinching the sides of her sleeveless dress, she wiggled the corset up ever so slightly, intentionally shaking her boobs in the process.

Laughing ever so slightly, I rolled my eyes again, “Maybe you don’t have shame, but I certainly do.”

“Don’t worry hun, no one will even think twice about our conversation once I leave,” she winks, chugging down the last bits of her coffee, “I’ll make sure of that.” Her eyes quickly glanced over to the clock that rested on the wall, before she gave an exaggerated stretch with her arms, “Well, seems like I better be off. Lots to do, as you know.”

“Sure, sure, just be careful about-”

She raised a hand to stop me, “Hun, if that murderer knows what’s good for him, he won’t even try to harm me.”

Then, with a swift farewell, Mimzy hopped out from her side of the booth and strolled toward the coffee shops exit, ensuring to sway her hips drawing all the attention toward her, as she promised. The moment no one was looking at me, I felt like I could actually breathe. The lack of attention was like a wave of cool water against my burning skin.

Some people thrived on attention.

But I was not some people.

Attention was a curse. Draw too much of it and you get the wrong kind of attention, draw too little, and no one would notice your missing like a rat in the gutter. Somewhere in between was the place to be. But in all honesty, I was akin to the rat.

A soft crackle warmed the small cafe, lifted heads and drawing eyes as everyone stared at the bright mahogany radio perched atop the countertop.

A small smile grew on my lips as the familiar welcoming voice called out “Good morning New Orleans, hope you all are having a wonderful morning this lovely sunny day.”

Alastor.

Now that was a man who drew attention. The perfect amount in my opinion. He was famous for his radio show and his charm, but he was never boasting and always calm. Just a truly fine gentleman.

“I know we have all read the current new headlines about this mystery murderer, however, I want to bring a bit of cheer to such gloomy news and focus on the upcoming event of Valentines day. So, my good gentlemen and ladies, this morning, I am going to delve you in on some in house secrets to ensure a wonderfully magical time this coming 14th of February.”

Voice smooth, sweet, alluring. It was no wonder he had become the host of the broadcast, he was perfect in all ways. The calm but enthusiastic energy was perfect to draw everyone’s eyes toward the radio.

Taking the last sip from my tea, I continued to listen, “Now, you all may be thinking the casual walks by the park, or a simple cute coffee date, however, the best secret I can share with you is to simply listen. Any hints or passing remarks your ladies make gentleman, pay attention and deliver. We will continue broadcasting new valentines ideas after these ad breaks.”

His voice clicked off as another echoed through the coffee shop, advertising some weird art deco company.

Listening.

A simple yet oddly specific concept to share. Was this because of what she said about stars last night? Was it because he listened to her weird midnight thoughts? Surely the station had told him to say that, but he always spoke about how he wrote his own scripts for the show. It was his magnum opus, ‘you can’t have a good show written by men too high on their own horses too look down bellow,’ his words rung through my skull.

I shook my head, gently placing my empty teacup onto its saucer. Maybe he was just a secret romantic. That made more sense. All those books he preordered that I somehow never had to wrap, always done by another employee. Then it hit me, I didn’t actually know what books he read. I knew he read, a lot by the amount of books, but I didn’t know what they were.

As the radio advertisement skipped to the next, I stood up. It wouldn’t be for another five minutes before Alastor was back on the air, more than enough time to hurry home and turn the radio on.

Since the day we met, I have never missed a single show.

And he always asked about my opinion, so he would know if I didn’t listen.

Smiling at myself, I quietly left a few pennies on the counter for the tea and left.

The walk home was peaceful as it always was when the sun was up. A few familiar faces here and there, but nothing a simple smile and nod wouldn’t solve. However, a strange feeling settled in my stomach. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years.

Eyes.

I was being watched. Followed. Hunted. But as I swung my head around, staring behind me, nothing stood there. Not a person, not an animal, nothing.

“All that talk about murder must have messed with me,” I whispered to myself, placing a gentle hand on my heart before I continued down my street.

Pausing, I turned to face my apartment that sat across the road, a familiar smile crossing my face as a wave of safety and comfort rushed through me. Quickly checking both ways of the road, I hurried across the road, not wanting to nearly get squished like last night. The moment my flat heels hit the safety of pavement, I took a single step up toward my doorway. Glancing down toward my small purse, my fingers paused as I grabbed hold of the cool metal keys for my front door. Moving my purse to the side of my view, my eyes widened at the sight of two perfectly plucked roses resting at my doorstep. One with petals black as the night itself, while the other as white as the moon.

A measured piece of twine was perfectly tied around the two stems of the flowers, tied in a perfect bow. As my fingers delicately wrapped around the flower stems, I noticed the carefully cut thorns, each meticulously shaved off from the roses.

Glancing around, I looked for whoever left the two flowers, or at least for whoever they were supposed to go to. But there was no name.

But this can’t be for me.

Not one would leave something like this for her.

Carefully caressing the petals of the black rose, I kept the roses pinched between my fingers. They were awfully beautiful. And the care, the attention to detail. It was charming, sweet. Even if it wasn’t meant for me.

But it would be rude of me to leave them out to rot.

Chapter Text

Music swelled through the small bookstore, slow jazz filling the quiet space. The record player spun with the record, an occasional blip in the music doing little to disrupt the peaceful day. Not a customer in sight, and no mess to clean up. All the books had been reorganized, and now all that was left was the pile of pre-orders, all wrapped and ready for pickup, and to grab and wrap a few other orders that had just come in.

Swaying my hips to the slow sensual rhythm, a smile lined my lips. Raising to the tips of my toes, I reached for a book that rested atop one of the tall shelves. Grasping at its hard binder, I pried it free from its confines on the shelf. Falling back onto the balls of my feet, I quickly checked over the edges of the thick historical work. Once confirming its quality, I checked the price as I strolled toward the front counter. Lining the price with the payment amount, I nodded and placed the book on the counter before returning to collect a handful of more books.

Gently placing the remainder of the pre-orders on the table, I began to wrap them carefully with the plain butcher's paper. Each corner was crisp, perfectly wrapped like a present for Christmas. Every order was finished off with a thin strap of twine tightened into a bow and a small ‘thank you’ note.

Signing the last note, I carefully tucked it under the string, before picking up the small pile of books and began placing them on the shelves behind me, ensuring they were all placed in the proper alphabetical order. Finishing the fresh pile of pre-order, I began the slow process of doing the same to the pile on the trolley. Despite only working a few shifts a week, I was the only one who ever placed the pre-orders into their place on the shelves. Apparently, I was insanely accurate and in the years I have been working here, have never made a mistake. ‘The main pre-order organizer’ is what the owner of the store set me as. Every shift, this was basically my main job.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed another book before climbing the small ladder. Glancing down at the name of the order, I paused. Alastor Hartfelt. Another book. Blinking, I swiftly glanced to the front door. No one.

Tightening my grip on the wrapped book, I slowly climbed down the ladder before setting the book on the front counter. The paper was pristine, the bow perfect, and the little thank you note neatly tucked under the twine.

It was bothering me.

Every day, every time I was working, there was a new book. A new order from this man. And every time, I never got to see what he was reading. It was like he was toying with me. I had asked him multiple times about the books he ordered, but not once had he ever given me a clue. Now, here a book lay in its wrapping, begging for me to take a peek.

Curiosity gnawed at me, my fingers itching inches from the mysteriously wrapped book. Shaking my head, I reached for the pin of the record player, lifting it off from the record and pausing the soft jazz. My eyes never left the paper wrapped novel.

Sparing another glance toward the front door, ensuring no one was about to enter the store, I carefully loosened the bow of the twine. It unwrapped with ease as I pulled at the string, the butcher's paper almost completely unravelling once it was released from the confines of the rope. Pinching at the edges of this paper, I unwrapped the book, ensuring not to add any creases into the paper.

There, in the middle of the unwrapped butcher's paper was the undeniable sight of a classic romance novel. My eyes scanned the delicate front cover, before falling upon the title ‘Le Fantôme De L Opéra’. I blinked, confused at the french writing. Alastor knew French? Shaking my head, I continued to scan the front cover, the only sign that this was a romance novel being the couple that was sitting on the cover, the lady sitting while the man loomed above her wearing half of a white mask holding a rose.

Brushing my fingers across the cover of the book, a small chuckle passed my lips. Alastor, the romantic, who knew. Carefully opening the novel, my eyes scanned a few pages, but the french went straight over my head. How disappointing.

The bell from the front suddenly rang out, leading me to slam the book shut, face flushed. Lifting my head, I opened my mouth to form an excuse for looking through Alastor's book, but paused as I caught sight of two young men. My heart rate slowed, relief washing over me.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted the two men as I started to wrap Alastor's book up again, ensuring the creases from the paper lined up with the edges of the book. The two men didn’t say anything as they began to explore the isles. Tying the book off with the classing twine bow, I placed the book on the trolley, knowing Alastor would be coming in to pick it up later, so there was no point in packing it in the shelves above.

Watching as the two men scoured the shelves, my mind wandered back to that book. Alastor knew French? And he likes romance? How much did I not know about this man?

Slipping past the front counter, my eyes scanned the shelves of the bookstore, hunting for the very book. I may not know French, but I could connect simple dots. Fantôme sounded like phantom and Opéra was clearly opera just dressed up. My eyes trailed the book shelves, scanning the titles for any sign of the two words, my only hint toward the novel Alastor was reading.

Then my eyes froze.

‘The Phantom of the Opera’.

Delicately prying the book free from its confines on the shelf, I held the thick book in my hands. My fingers traced the cover. It was different to Alastor's version, but that half masked face was undeniable.

Tightening my grip on the book, I quickly took it to the front before ringing it up for myself and paying with the few emergency coins I always carried in my purse. I had been looking for a new book to read after having completed reading all of Jane Austins novels.

“Hey, lady,” I jumped, my head jolting up to meet the gaze of the two young men that had entered the store. Sparing them a smile, I placed my new book down on the counter.

“What can I do for you?” I asked with a smile, my hands lingering on the novel.

“Do you have any erotic novels?” the shorter of the men asked, licking their lips, "preferably with pictures included.”

Normally, I’m not one to judge what people read. People are into what they are into, but the way this little man stared at me as if I were a snack, made my body prickle with nerves.

“Sorry sir’s, we don’t store books like that here, we are a rather small establishment,” I force my voice to remain light and welcoming, “But I’m sure the store a few blocks away might have what you are looking for, they are a lot bigger and hold a lot more books.”

Pushing away from the counter, they don’t say a thing as they return back down the isles of the bookstore, making me raise a brow.

“Of course she would know,” the taller one whispered down, “I bet she’s wild in bed.”

“I bet she has a secret stash of those hot books here,” the shorter one coughed as he licked his lips once more.

I rolled my eyes as I watched the men search behind books for something that isn't there. It’s ironic that society has classed me as some sort of whore considering how conservative I dress. Chest completely covered, shoulders protected, and knees always hidden. But, I didn’t really care, not after when Alastor walked me home from that joint. His words were smooth as he wished me a good night, but just before I closed the door, he whispered that one word, ‘beautiful’. And if a man like him thought I was beautiful, who cared what the rest of society saw.

The two men flip through pages of a few books, desperately searching. Their sticky fingers flicked through the pages at a fast pace. And all it took was a movement to fast for one of the pages from the books in their hand to rip nearly in two.

They glanced at each other, then back at the town page. My head lifted as I stared at the broken page. Just what I needed.

“Um, you have to pay if you damage anything,” I echoed what the owner told me to say. I was warned after last time that if anything is damaged, the customer has to pay, otherwise it was coming out of my check book.

But as the two men glared at me, the little one spitting, “What was that?” I backed down like a kicked puppy.

“N-nothing,” I mumbled, lowering my gaze to avoid their angered stares.

Confrontation.

I hated it. It only enticed danger and pain. Over the years I had learnt to just keep my head down and do as I was told. And if I didn’t, HE always made sure to remind me. With a punch to the face, with the wrap of his hands around my throat, with a dagger pressed against my chest.

Even after I escaped, I knew to keep my head low. Because what if he found me and saw me being disobedient. What if he saw I was happy. What if he took me back.

“Thats right,” the short man grinned at me, his eyes dragging down my body. I felt alone. Pathetic. I couldn’t handle this. The pressure, the danger, the confrontation. MY heart pulsated sourly, each beat burning like it was about to explode. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to cage my heart in my chest so it doesn't shoot out in panic.

The two men went to put the book back where it was on the shelf.

There goes my pay for the week.

“I believe she said to pay for what you damage my good men,” the sudden heavy accented voice of Alastor brought my gaze up once more. There he stood, blocking the two men’s view of me. His tailored clothing sat perfectly on him, framing his broad shoulders. Reaching into his vest pocket, he pulled out a small piece of fabric and brought it to his glasses. Taking the piece of eyewear off, he quickly cleaned their lenses while his gaze remained on the two men, unwavering.

I blinked as I stared at him. I didn’t even hear the bell alert me to his entrance.

“And how are you going to make us,” the tall one crossed his arms over, challenging.

Setting his glasses back on his nose and tucking the fabric back into his pocket, he smiles, “I’m glad you asked.” Lifting his arm, Alastor knocked the side of the bookshelf, the loose furniture shaking. I stared at the shaking furniture, absolutely shocked by the strength at which a simple nudge by alastor could send such a huge and heavy bookshelf shaking.

And before I could think any further about this man's absolutely hidden strength, a bright green vase, that I had forgotten was stored up there, fell, smashing atop the small one's head and sending his to the floor. Blood poured from his head, the red liquid coasting half his face. The little man screamed, hand pressing against the back of his head.

The tall friend cursed, lifting his short friends off the floor. Leaning on him, the tall guy looked toward Alastor before glancing toward me. Dragging his friend through the book store, the man rummaged through his pockets before dropping the cash on the counter before taking his friend out of the store.

Not a single word. Not a fight. He just took the warning and left.

Without another word, Alastor crouched where the shattered remains of the ceramic vase remained, his fingers delicately plushing the shards off from the carpet.

“I’ll pay for the vase,” he said as he collected the pieces in the palm of his hand.With a blink, I went to his side, beginning to pick up the loose shards.

“How did you know the vase would fall on them”

“I was aiming for the shelf to fall on them,” he shrugged as another shard clinked into his hand. My hand froze over the piece of the ceramic, but before I could say anything, Alastor finished, “and I would have paid for all the damages, so you wouldn't bare any blame dear.”

I shook my head, mind running a million miles an hour, “Alastor, that could have cost you thousands.”

“Nothing is too expensive for you dear.”

Silence.

For a heart beat, all I heard was the rushing of blood behind my ears and the soft clink of ceramic hitting together in my hand.

How is he allowed to say such things, such sweet charming things, and not mean anything by it. He always managed to make my heart hurt both with pain and joy.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“You should speak up for yourself,” he says. Not condescending, not annoyed, just a simple note. “I love being your knight in shining armour, but what if I can’t help you? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“They weren’t going to hurt me,” I wave him off, before reaching for the last piece of glass, “they were just trouble makers.”

“Them maybe, but what about that guy as the bar, you need to be a little more assertive, ” his words stuck me and I dropped the price of glass. Shakily, I reached back for the sharp shard. Noticing my quiver, he let out a slow sigh, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. The world takes advantage of people like you.”

I don’t reply as I grab the last shard. But the moment I plucked it from the carpet, the sharp edge slit the tip of my finger, piercing the flesh of my index fingers. Blood slowly formed a drop of red as the tip of my finger.

Staring at the blood as it pooled at the tip of my finger, Alastor’s eyes widened at the blood. But with a shrug, I picked the shard up and casually walked toward the bin behind the counter. The shard scattered through the garbage, flecks of my blood joining them.

From over the counter, Alastor carefully drew my hand toward him, staring at the tiny cut.

“Are you alright?” I rais a brow at him as he stared at the tiny cut, that was more of a prick than a cut.

“Its nothing a band-aid wont fix don’t worry,” I laughed as he glares at the cut as if it personally offended me, “I won’t lose my finger.” Gently letting me go the second I lightly tugged for my hand back, Alastor met my gaze as I smiled, “Here for your book as usual?” He nods, before turning his head toward the counter top, spotting the new book I had just bought. He takes a moment to stare at it before returning to look at me.

“Indeed,” he grins, his sharp teeth on full display. Spinning around, I quickly snatched up the book, completely forgetting about the cut on my finger as blood smears on the butcher's paper. As I hand over his book, Alastor pauses, staring at the book for a heart beat too long. His brows furrow, his smile grows, his eyes sharpen. And in a blink, he was back to his normal charming self. “When do you get off?”

“Half an hour actually, lucky day, you won’t have to wait around for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you until death claims me, my dear.”

Chapter Text

Flicking the radio dial, the usual static ricochet through my ears before the radio station flickered to life, voices unfiltered as they began the late night shows. After having dropped me off at my doorstep, Alastor has asked if I would be tuning in tonight for his show, a show he promised would be worth the wait. It was a silly question, he knew I always listened. Sure sometimes during the late shows I fell asleep on the couch, but his voice was sometimes too soothing.

But tonight, as I sat on my couch, new book in hand, I waited. My brewed cup of tea sat on the side table, steam rising off from the warm teacup. Tucking my legs further underneath me, I sighed satisfied. Snuggling into my silky pyjamas, I began to read.

As my eyes trailed the words, intrigued by the plot by the first page. Just as I began to fall into the world as the story explored the Phantom, I was immediately pulled out by the voice of Alastor.

Tucking my bookmark onto the page, I focused fully on the radio absolutely entranced by the mans voice. It was soothing, clam, and ever so seductive with that accent. Damn that accent. The show had begun as usual, delving into more things focusing around Valentines, and slowly, my eyes began to close. It was past nine when I slowly sank further into the couch, my breathing slowed as I began to doze off, but then Alastor's words shifted.

“Now, before you all fall asleep,” he cooed over the radio, my eyes darting open at the sudden call out, I looked back at the radio, my full attention now on it as he continued, “here's one piece of advice I can spare for you ladies before wrapping up for tonight, ladies, never peek at the presents your man may be hiding from you. It is simply rude.” He dragged along the last word, his smile practically visible through his voice.

I froze as I stared at the radio. He knew. He knew I opened his order, he knew I bought the book after him. My face burned, ears turning red as I curled into the couch. I hid my face behind my hands as I groaned. Embarrassment pooled through me, a groan escaping my lips. My heart rate picked up speed, absolutely panicking.

What was I supposed to say when I looked at him? Was he angry? Did he hate me?

I rubbed my eyes with the palm of my hand, regret flowing through me. Dragging down on my face, I stared at the book. Why did I have to take a peek?

A sudden knock at the door made me jump a small squeak escaping my mouth. I stared at the door that led to the stairway toward the front door. Blinking, I glanced toward the clock that rested on the side table. It was long past ten at night, who would be knocking so late?

Grabbing the robe I had thrown over the back of the couch, I wrapped it around my body, hiding in its warmth before I slowly approached the door that led to the stairway. With Alastor's voice still in the background, I carefully snuck down the stairs toward the dark green front door. Hopping on my tippy toes, I peeked through the peep hole, afraid I’d find the face of some murderer. Maybe the murderer.

Nothing.

Not a single soul was in sight of the peephole and as I cautiously opened the front door, I scanned the street. At the very end of the street a couple stood smoking, but their unhurried stature ensured that they didn’t knock on my door.

Raising a brow, I took a single step out and reeled back as something crunched underfoot. There on the front doorstep sat a bushel of dead flowers. Slowly bending over, holding my clothes close so I didn’t flash anyone who happened to walk by, I picked up the dead flower. I stared at it, twirling the twiglike plant in my hand. From the shape of the flowers and the berries next to the cluster of flowers, it was likely belladonna. A plant that grew in a nearby park.

It was clearly uncared for, plucked from the park bushes signified by the torn step. It clearly was not from the same person who sent the roses. The roses were plucked with such care and clearly self grown, but these berries were clearly uncared for.

Strange.

Stepping back and shutting my door, I climbed the stairs and entered my apartment. Staring at the flower for no more than a breath longer, I tossed it in the bin.

Odd.

—---

Brushing my hair back, I sighed happily at the freshly trimmed feeling. I had been meaning to trim the ends of my hair for a while now, but now finally having gotten the bottom few centimetres cut, I felt free. Sure, it wasn't a drastic enough change for anyone to notice, it was more about the feeling of freshness that made it worth it.

Walking through the park at a leisurely pace, I glanced at the stray bush of belladonna. I took a brief pause before continuing. I had too many things to do, I couldn’t be caught up on stupid dead flowers left at my doorstep.

As I stroll through the park, I take a pause, breath halting as there, sitting on a bench, was Alastor. Usual smile, usual perfect hair, and usual charm.

“Good morning (Y/N),” he greeted smile widening, “your hair looks beautiful today. Did you get it cut?” I blink. He noticed my hair. Such a subtle thing, and he noticed. Just like how he noticed I took a glance at his book. I blush, completely stuck in place as I stared at the man. Upon seeing my red cheeks, he simply laughed before moving to the side, inviting me to sit next to him on the park bench, “sit, sit, I don’t bite darling.” His gaze turned dark for a flicker, so quick I barely caught the brief shift in his brown eyes. But I ignored it as I took his invite, stiffly sitting next to him.

Quietly, we stared toward the few trees in the park, a soft breeze rustling my loose hair. Brushing the loose strands into my hands, couldn't help but softly smile as I watched the few birds fly from branch to branch. I liked moments like these. Slow , small, and peaceful. It was moments like these that let me forget about what I have endured. About my fears.

“Dreadful isn’t it,” Alastor brought me from my trance, “This is not much of a park, too plain and simple. No chaos of nature.” I blink at him before looking back at the park.

“I think it’s peaceful,” I sighed, a soft smile on my face as I stared at the intertwining branches of the trees, “but I do agree. It’s a bit drab.” While the trees and few local flowers were peaceful, it was a little boring. There were no animals other than a few stray birds, and the sound of the trees rustling or birds singing was completely drowned out by the city. Glancing back as Alastor, I tilted my head. “Why aren’t you at the studio? Isn’t it still on at this time of day?”

“That it is my dear, although you would be missing it if I was still working, so it’s not the end of the world for me,” he grins before it slightly lowers, "But I will admit, I have been lacking inspiration.”

“Your valentines tips weren’t so bad,” I recall his previous few broadcasts, all which provided various ideas for valentines day, which was only a few days away now.

“Not bad is not good enough darling, though last night's broadcast was the best I had yet,” he looks at me with a knowing glance. I lowered my head, my face warming once again. My hands grip at my skirt, heart racing as he looked down at me. It was only when he laughed I felt my stiff muscles relax, “oh do not look so worried dear, I do not mind you searching through my stuff, but you could have just asked me. I would have been happy to share my literature interests with you.”

With a sheepish smile, I nodded, my hands letting go of the bunched fabric. I think back to the French book, the shock of finding Alastor to be a romantic, and the fact that he knew French was another surprise. Nothing in his accent allured to the fact he knew French.

Then, in a shy whisper I asked, “do you really know French?”

With another hearty laugh, his eyes fall half lidded as he meet my gaze, a spark flashing behind his gaze as he whispers, “En effet, mon amour. C'est tout simplement une langue agréable, mais pas aussi agréable que toi.” *

The language slid past his tongue with such ease. Despite not having a clue what he said, I felt my face burn red, which I quickly hid by looking down. I could feel his smile as he chuckled through his chest at my reaction.

“What did you say,” I stared up at his through my lashes, not brave enough to face him fully.

“Ah, darling, it wouldn't be fun if I told you now would it. I have to keep some mystery alive,” he states as he stands, brushing his tailored black pants clear from any dust before offering me a hand like he did that night. “Now chérie,” he slipped into his French accent for a breath, “may I accompany you with your events this evening, I am dreadfully bored and need some inspiration.”

Slipping my hand into his I couldn't help but giggle as he brushed my knuckles with his lips in a small kiss, eyes never leaving mine, “I’m afraid I am not that entertaining, you won’t find much to talk about.” Releasing my hand, I drop it to my side.

“On the contrary, I already have many ideas simply by being next to you,” he cooed. I flush before rolling my eyes at his charm.

How can one man be so charming?

Lifting his arm, he silently offered it for me to take. Slipping my arms through the loop of his arm, we hooked together as we began our small trip through town together.

Chapter Text

Tea steamed from the cup in my hands, lips pursing as I blew as the steaming delicacy. A smile stretched across my face and hasn’t faded in the slightest since meeting with Alastor. Taking a small sip from my drink, I placed the faded cup back onto its porcelain saucer. Next to the steaming cup, rested a small place holding a singular scone, perfectly cut in half and delicately lathered with strawberry jam and cream.

“So, have you begun to read the novel?” Alastor asked with a tilt of his head, his own mug of black coffee in his hands. It was a wonder how such a sweet man could drink something so bitter. Maybe it was to balance himself out, contrast his sweet charm with bitter coffee.

“How do you know I’m reading the same book,” I asked, bringing the scone to my lips, taking a delicate and purposefully ladylike nibble.

“You had it resting on the counter top,” he chuckled, before leaning his elbows on the table and leaning forward, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. “It was like you weren’t even trying to hide your peeping,” he purred, that devilish smile growing on his lips.

I froze, face burning. How could I forget that. No wonder he knew I looked through his order. Not only did he say the note was missing, but the bow was crooked and the previous creases from its original wrapping were just out of line enough for him to notice. Now combine all that with seeing his very own novel he bought on the front desk, no wonder he connected the dots.

“You’re awfully observant,” I mumbled, hiding my face behind a sip of tea.

“It comes with being a radio host dear,” he shrugged, folding his arms on the table's edge, “If I was not observant, how would I ever have anything to talk about on my show.”

I nod. It made sense. How can you report on things if you didn’t pay attention to them. Then, my heart dropped, my throat tightening as I nervously swallowed a bite of scone.

“You won’t do a section on this will you?” I asked nervously.

He simply laughed, waving his hand, “of course not. How rude would it be if I embarrassed you on live air? My mother would roll in her grave at such depravity.” I sighed, relief washing over me. It was already embarrassing enough with Alastor knowing you spied on his personal property, but for the entire city of New Orleans to know, I would never leave my home again. “You still have to tell me what you thought of the novel?”

“I’ve only just started last night,” he nods, hanging on my every word and completely focused, making me smile as I continued, “It was interesting what I have read so far. The characters are intriguing, especially the Phantom, which is to be expected. And his strange obsession with the female lead is absolutely fascinating. For someone to be so completely involved in your life is very-” I pause. My brain chugged for a moment, trying to think of how to describe the sentiment without saying the words ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ to Alastor. I didn’t want him to think me some sort of freak who found obsession sexy. What would he think of me, some common moocher. “-it was very… alluring.”

“Alluring,” he raised a brow. I panicked.

“Not in like I find the act itself alluring, I mean in like the context of the book, it makes the book more alluring to continue reading,” I blabbed, my face scrunching in my panic. He simply nodded, a strange smirk growing before disappearing as he drank from his mug.

A moment of silence passed, as I finished the rest of my scone, savouring the taste with a satisfied hum. Alastor watched, almost unblinking.

Then he suddenly asked, “will you go with me to a work party?” I blink, taken aback by the sudden question. “Its a simple thing,” he offers a reassuring smile, “I know most of the people attending and they are harmless, I promise.”

“I don’t know Alastor,” I stuttered before looking down into the milky tea, “I don’t think me and parties mix. Not after last time.” I shift my legs together, nervously rubbing them together as I try to erase the feeling of that man's hands on my thigh. “Besides, you don’t need a woman like me dragging down your chances of having a good time.”

“Thus the exact reason I am asking you,” he sighed, leaning back ever so slightly into his seat, “these events are so painfully boring, and having someone with some actual authenticity would make the whole event less of a drag.”

“So you’re plan is to make me suffer alongside you so your less bored?” I giggle, a playful smile etched on my face.

He rolls his eyes, returning with a toothy grin, “you call it suffering, I call it broadening your horizons. You did mention you were looking for a husband.” His words strain on the last few words, as if it pained him to even mention it. But I ignore it with a sigh.

“I don’t think aristocrats with their heads so far up theirs is a man for me,” I finish my tea, “besides, I don’t have anything to wear, and I certainly don’t have the money to afford a dress half as fancy to attend and not look like a rat off the street.” I gesture at my clothes.

There was nothing wrong with my outfit. It was one of my favourites. A simple skirt with a frilled top. But its faded colour showed its age.

“Don’t worry about that darling, I’ll buy you enough dresses to attend multiple events,” he smiles, “you will be the most radiant woman at the event tomorrow, as you always are.”

“First off, bold of you to assume I would attend multiple events, second, tomorrow is a bit of a short notice.”

“I was rather nervous to ask for you to attend with me, for the chance you say no were drastically increased after the events from a few nights ago,” Alastor explains, finishing his coffee with a final silent sip.

He had been thinking that long on this. He had been wanting to ask me for days? And he was nervous I’d say no?

My heart rate doubled, blood rushing to my face and ears. Heat bubbled in my stomach as butterflies fluttered with heavy wing beats.

I sigh, “will you at least stay with me during the thing.”

What was I doing?

“Of course, that was my plan from the beginning,” he nodded before tilting his head, “So, that's a yes.”

“Yes, I’ll go,” I giggle as practically beams at the news.

“I swear, no longer than an hour at the blasted event and then I will drop you off straight at home,” he promised with ease.

“What if I’m having a good time?”

“Would you?”

“Oh heavens no, I’d run home in heels if I must,” he chuckled, my chest warming as I brought such a heavenly laugh from this awfully persuasive man.

Just as we were about to leave our seats to begin the long journey of dress hunting, a sudden pot of pure black coffee came flying toward me, completely dousing me. The completely cold drink soaked into my hair and stained the faded fabric of my clothes. The smell of watered down coffee beans filled my nostrils, bringing the bitter taste to fabricate on my tongue. Drops of coffee bundled at the bottom of my chin before falling to the floor.

I hate coffee.

By my feet, a man was hunched over, broken coffee cup in his hand. Blinking through my wet lashes, and any annoyance that had rested on my face vanished. Without a word, I kneeled to the man's level, offering my hand.

“Are you alright?” I kept my words soft, my smile pleasant as the stranger raised his head to look at me. The hat that rested atop his head was skew, covering half od his face. But as he stared at me, I couldn't help but squint, finding the deep green eyes were strangely familiar.

But before I could think any further, the man abruptly jumped to his feet, kneeling knocking me backward by the sheer speed of his movements. Not muttering a single word, he rushed out of the small shop, the bell ringing at his exit.

Slowly pushing myself to my feet, Alastor was instantly by my side, helping me to my feet.

“What an absolute undignified, uncouth, vulgar man.” Alastor growled, his eyes staring down the stranger that had just run away. That familiar stranger that I definitely knew from somewhere. If only his had was up a bit more, I would have been able to recognise him surely. Unless I had him confused with someone else. Which with my social skills was possible. Putting names to faces was an absolute weakness.

“It’s fine,” I look up at alastor, catching his gaze. His brown eyes softened, pupils widening ever so slightly.

“He dropped coffee on you,” he softened his voice.

“I’ll live. It was cold anyways,” I shrug.

“It could have been hot. You could have gotten burnt,” he paused, his eyes trailing down, “and your clothes.”

I look down, staring at the ruined outfit, “It was old.” Alastor gave a huff before offering his arm for me to loop into again, which I did.

“Then I shall buy you more dresses. Not just for the party but for yourself too,” he offered with such nonchalance I couldn't help but stare at him wide eyed as he led me out from the coffee shop.

“Alastor, I couldn’t ask you-” he lifted his free hand, stopping me mid-sentence.

“I insist, I’m already dragging you to a deadly boring event, I can buy you a few extra things as a treat. Besides, I would buy as many dresses it takes for you to be happy.”

I giggle, “and if I’m already happy?”

“Then I shall buy you a new wardrobe for the fun of it.” I roll my eyes. “But first, let's get you something not stained in coffee.”

—--
The absolutely ridiculous amount of new dresses and skirts rested over Alastor's arms as he casually climbed the set of stairs toward your apartment. Not a single hair out of place and no strain in his breathing. For a man of his build he definitely had some hidden muscle I didn’t know about.

“Alastor, this is really too much,” I protest as I look back at him, opening the door to my apartment with a simple twist of the doorknob.

The purpose of this second door was to provide extra security to the apartment. But when living in such a relatively quiet part of town, it felt like such a hassle to have to pull out two sets of keys just to get into my own apartment. So I only ever locked the downstairs door.

“Darling, you looked marvelous in everything so why not get you everything,” my heart pounded in my chest, rattling inside my chest. It was by pure luck that Alastor couldn't hear how such a simple sentence could make me feel so giddy.

Spinning on my heel to stare down at him as he casually walked up the stairs, I reached out toward the pile of clothes he carried, “at least let me carry some of these inside.” It wasn’t much of a request as it was a plea. Guilt was warping my mind, twisting in my stomach. Here this man was, nothing holding us together, yet he had the dignity to buy anything I called pretty and carry it all to my home.

“Nonsense, what kind of a gentleman would that make me,” he pulled the clothes away from my hands, waving a finger before me as if chiding me for offering such a preposterous idea.

My heart stopped its fluttering.

Gentleman.

He was just being his usual charming self. I’m not special. He’s just doing what he would do for anyone. He was a gentleman.

“You’re impossible,” I force a smile, ignoring my pained chest before entering my small apartment with Alastor close behind.

“That I am mon amour,” the sudden language swap sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

Pressing the lights on, the apartment was revealed from the darkness that once consumed it. Stepping into the warm safe space, I happily entered my home. But just as I made it into the kitchen, I paused. There, on the counter top, the dead twig of belladonna flowers and berries rested atop my counter top.

“I could have sworn those were in the bin?” I whispered to myself, staring at the appearance of the berries. It was late when I threw them out, maybe it was a slip of my mind, and I dreamt I threw them away. Alastor behind me, clothes in his arms, stands behind me as he stares at the dead flowers resting on the countertop. Approaching the dead twig, I pinched the branch between my fingers, a single flower falling from the stem, wrinkled and rotten.

“What’s that you have there?” He asked, taking a singular step toward me.

“Some belladonna flower someone left on my doorstep last night,” I shrug, dropping it mindlessly on the counter, “Kind of creepy giving someone a dead flower, but I’m sure whoever left it was nervous to give it to whoever it was intended for and it rotted before they accidentally left it on my porch.”

Alastor's eyes glared at the dead flowers, his gaze darkening as an annoyed rumble left his throat in an absentminded hum. Turning my focus toward him, I saw the sour pull at his lips, as if the dead twig offended him somehow. With a scowl, he sceptically turned his gaze from the dead flower, glaring at it with caution and threat.

Then he spotted the roses.

“Nice roses,” he mentioned, focusing on the two roses that rested in a water filled vase. Smiling at the contrasting coloured flowers, I slowly approached the small dining table they rested on, my fingers carefully caressing the silk like petals.

“I don’t really think they were meant for me,” I give the roses a delicate closed lipped smile before lowering my head so their sweet aroma filled my senses with closed eyes, “but I couldn’t just leave them out there to rot on my front porch. Especially after the care someone took to prune these completely free from thorns. It’s such a sweet gesture.”

“Why do you think they were not for you?” Cluttering my eyes open, I turn my head to face Alastor, straightening my back as I stared into his brown gaze.

“I’m not worth such nice things. Like those clothes you bought me are way too nice for someone like me,” I sigh, my fingers leaving the soft touch of the flowers. Then, my thoughts came to a crashing halt. The clothes. Alastor was still holding the absurd amount of new dresses and skirts, his arms must be aching. Letting out a panicked gasp, I scramble toward my bedroom door, “Oh my word, the clothes, your arms must be aching, I’m so sorry.”

Hurriedly, I twisted the knob toward my room and swung the door open, running into my embarrassingly small and unstylish wardrobe and turning the lights on. But as I turned around, Alastor wasn’t standing behind me, beginning me to a pause.

Peeking my head from around the corner of the wardrobe, I stared at Alastor as he stood at the doorway to my room, not daring to take a step inside without permission. What a strange man.

“You can come inside you know,” I said, now standing across from him, hand holding the rim of my wardrobes doorway.

“Are yous sure? I don’t want to invade your privacy, this is your private space,” he gestured to my room, his eyes actively avoiding my bed. And I laughed.

I actually laughed at him.

It was rude of me, but I couldn’t help it.

Such a ridiculous yet charming thing. Any other man would have leapt at the chance to even step foot in a young ladies room. But not Alastor.

“You’re so weird,” I giggle, wiping a tear away as I try to calm my erratic laughs.

“I’m not weird,” he defended, but as I continued to laugh, he turned his head to the side, avoiding my gaze. And it was in that moment I saw the faintest red on his face.

Was he blushing?

No, he was just embarrassed.

That's all.

“You act as if you're going through my drawer of undergarments,” I stifle another fit of laughter, “It’s just a bedroom.”

“To you perhaps, but I cannot simply enter a ladies room without permission,” he huffs.

“Well then, permission granted,” I giggle as he rolls his eyes, “now come on, let's get those clothes out of your arms.”

—--

By the time I had organized the new set of clothing into my wardrobe, having to clear an entire rack just to accommodate it, it was past sunset. The moon had shown itself in the sky, the few stars barely blinking in the sky as it fought against the city’s smog. It was lucky that I found this little spot more on the edge of the city. It was no outer city experience, but seeing a handful of stars was better than none.

Alastor had left not too long ago, his footsteps not hitting the pavement until the usual lock of my front door.

What a silly man he was.

Rolling my eyes with a smile, I caught sight of the dead flowers. Picking up the belladonna branch, I tossed them into the bin.

Chapter Text

Soft rays of sunlight peeked into my bedroom, caressing the white sheer curtains before tickling my face. The warmth made me hum in my half sleep state. Groggily, my eyes fluttered open with much resistance. My vision was blurred at first, but upon the fifth of sixth blink, I jolted backward, the sheets falling as I sat up. My eyes were wide, breath hitched, as there on the pillow next to me, the pillow that was supposed to be empty, was a new twig of belladonna berries. A twig somehow deader than the last.

“Okay, that's weird,” I whisper to myself as I pinch the branch between two fingers.

It had to be the same branch. It didn’t make sense for it not to be. Maybe, I thought I threw it away, meanwhile I took it to bed with me? Yeah, that makes sense.

Swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, my bare feet came into contact with the hardwood floors. With a creak from the wood under my weight, I shuffled to the bedroom window. Unlocking the latch, I lifted the window before tossing the branch into the street.

Watching the dead twig glide down the street from the gentle breeze, I scanned the empty streets. Not a soul. Nothing. But as my eyes trailed to the front step of my door, I gasped with a smile. There, on the concrete front step, another two roses, one black and white, rested.

Slamming the window shut, rattling the glass, I quickly locked it before rushing out of my bedroom. Ignoring the lack of etiquette in opening the front door in sleepwear, I scrambled down the stairs and opened the front door with ease, not even noticing the fact it was unlocked.

There at my feet, two perfect roses waited for me. Tied with a perfect bow, thorns just as carefully removed as before. How convenient for this mystery man to give new roses just as the others were beginning to droop.

Trying to hide the excited energy that coursed through my blood stream, making me want to squeal and dance, I carefully picked up the intertwined roses. Closing the door, I ran up the stairs and immediately got to replacing the old flowers.

Even if the roses were not meant for me, it still made my heart want to leap out of my chest.

Leaning an elbow on the small circular dining table, I stared at the new roses. A satisfied sigh passed through my nose as the fresh scent rushed through me. For a moment of pure quiet, watched the flowers. They sat in motionless perfection. The colour, the care, the love. It was warming, and made my stomach twist.

A sudden and loud ring from the telephone in my room broke my focus, bringing me upright. Confused, I left my kitchen/living room, and entered my bedroom. On one of the bedside tables, the side I didn’t sleep on, sat my rotary dial telephone. Only two people had my number. Alastor and Mimzy. So, as I picked up the small speaker, I was not expecting the unnerving sound of silence.

The phone buzzed with static, not a single sound emitting from the other end. I gulped.

“Hello?” I asked, my voice soft and polite.

Nothing.

Silence.

Then, breathing. It was heavy, desperate, unnatural. Whoever was on the other line was purposefully breathing into the speaker. Not a word was spoken, just constant heavy breathing. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the sound. And after another raspy breath, I placed the phone down, hanging up on the strange.

A wrong number.

It had to be.

Escaping from the suddenly suffocating confines of my bedroom. I entered the small kitchen area, my arms wrapping around my body as I stared at the door that led to my room. Whatever that was, it rattled me. The breathing was so laboured and deliberate. A sound that settled into my bones.

I shivered, forcing my eyes away from my room. Then they settled on the roses. And I felt warm again.

It made me think of Alastor.

I jumped upright. Alastor. The party tonight. I had so much to do. I needed to clean myself up, I needed to eat, and there was hair, makeup, and choosing a dress from the many he bought me because he insisted he would be dragging me to a lot more of these events.

Shaking my head, I quickly turned on the kettle before running to the bathroom to start the long process of getting ready for tonight despite it being barely eight in the morning.

—--

As Alastor stood by my front door, brown hair in its usual curly state, and glasses resting on the bottom of his nose, my eyes trailed to his suite. Simple, fancy, and red. Classic Alastor. His pants were a classical black, with a white tailored undershirt, but the vest and the suit jacket were a deep crimson that was oddly comforting. But as my eyes trailed up toward his face, my eyes caught sight of a single black rose resting outside his jacket pocket.

I stared at the flower for a heartbeat too long leading Alastor to laugh, “See something you like chérie?” He offered his usual charming smile and I tore my eyes away from the flower, meeting his brown eyes as they sparked with a fire I couldn't recognise, “Because I see something I like.” His eyes swiftly looked me up and down making my face flush hot.

I didn’t really work the dress, or maybe it wasn’t working with me. Either way, my body was not designed for such fancy material. It was a deep navy silk dress, embroidered with similarly coloured sequence in the shape of vines, each entangling with one another, leading to the sheer navy fabric that rested on my shoulders, holding the whole dress together. It was beautiful, but I was ruining it. My curves weren’t curvy enough, my confidence wasn’t enough, my face didn’t match the elegance. I was just me, and here I was posing as a fancy fraud.

“Stop that,” Alastor’s smile dropped, his brows furrowing together.

“What?” I asked, slightly distracted.

“I see it in your face, you’re doubting yourself,” I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness, but he continued, “You look absolutely fabulous in that dress. And that goes for any piece of clothing you could ever wear. So stop being so hard on yourself.”

“But-” he waved his finger, stopping me before I could even speak.

“No buts,” his smile returned before he revealed a singular white rose he had been hiding behind his back, “For you mon amour.” I stared at the rose, not able to breathe. A white rose, with thorns carefully snipped off. Before I could process anything, Alastor delicately placed the flower’s step behind my ear, resting the flower's head atop my ear. “Now, are you ready to go dear?” He raised a hand, offering to assist me down the single step of my front door.

Mindlessly, I took his hand, his warm grip comforting as he guided me toward the black cab. Opening the door for me, I entered the car, mind reeling as Alastor shut the door and entered the cab from the other side.

I didn’t process the whole drive, as my mind continued to focus on the flowers.

White and black.

White and black.

White and black.

No thorns.

He couldn’t have been the one leaving the flowers.
He-he saw them at my home, he must have gotten inspiration from that. He’s not the one leaving the flowers, he can’t be. He just heard me say I liked the flowers and decided to buy them for me, that's it. There was nothing to it.

He was just a gentleman.

The car pulled into a stop, tires screeching as we reached our destination.

But nothing continued to register until finally Alastor broke my confused trance, “We are here darling.” I flinched, head swivelling to where Alastor held the car door open for me. When did he get there?

Exiting the car with a soft ‘thanks’ to the driver, I hooked my arms with Alastor as he led me toward the loud building.

I hadn’t registered the exact level this party was at. It was at a mansion rather out of the city, but not enough for it to be uncivilised. It was huge, with massive cleanly cut land surrounding it. People bustled around the house, champagne in everyone's hand. A very illegal thing to do considering the prohibition. But not an uncommon thing to see. Rich people could pay the police to look the other way, and that was my guess as to why they hauled their glasses around with such free will.

As we closed in on the building, my hold on Alastor's arm tightened, my senses already overloaded by the overlapping sounds. Glasses clinking, people chatting, music swelling. I gulped, pressing into Alastor's side.

A warm hand intertwined with mine from where it grabbed into Alastor's arm. The warmth brought my focus toward him and his stupidly charming face.

“I’m by your side, remember. An hour and we go.” I nod and take a deep breath. Smoke, cigars, alcohol, and sweat. This was the beginning of a long hour.

—--

Thirty minutes felt like ten days. I didn’t utter a single word as I clung to Alastor like a lifeline. Which he definitely was at this moment. The people, the lights, the stuffiness. But somehow, despite the crowded house, Alastor always managed to weave me through the crowd with such ease, helping me dodge anyone from running into me even while he was talking to his producers. He even saved me from bumping into people I didn’t even see.

It was wave after wave of people. Producers, rich fans, sponsors. It was unbearably boring yet too much at the same time.

“After Valentines, what about we make a segment focusing on some recent scandals revolving around popular figures,” one of his producers rambled on, Alastor holding a forced smile. Despite writing his own work, he had no control over what he had to talk about. ‘A painful limitation’ he told me. And from the irritatingly sluggish voice this man possessed, I could see why Alastor struggled to put up with them.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored their conversation, focusing rather on other people. As I looked through the crowd, I spotted an old looking man, white facial hair covering his face, approaching us. But where I thought he was off to talk to Alastor, my stomach dropped as I noticed his focus on me.

And the night was going to well.

“Fine evening is it not,” he coughed, smoke and alcohol wafting off his like a perfume.

I smiled, nose scrunching, “Yes, lovely.”

“Alexader Brasington,” he greeted with a small bow before opening the palm of his hand for me to take. I didn’t really want to. But I also didn’t want to ruin Alastor's reputation. So, with great reluctance, I slipped my hand from Alastor's bicep to hold this Alexander's hand in greeting.

He brought it up to his chapped lips with a slimy kiss. My smile strained.

Releasing my hand, he continued his greeting, “I’m sure you have heard of me on the weekend radio.”

I don’t listen to weekend radio.

“Oh yeah,” I lied, face scrunching more, “I love your work. Totally… intriguing?”

“Ah, yes, indeed,” he puffed out his chest, “what happens to be your favourite segment I have done?”

I pause, “um… all of them?”

“You seem like woman of taste,” he chuckled. I nodded, trying to shut down the conversation by seeming invested in whatever Alastor and this other man was talking about. But Mr. Brasington had other ideas. “So, you come alone tonight.”

I stare at him.

He stares at me.

I look at how Alastor's and my arm intertwine together before looking back at the man, “No.”

“Shame, shame,” he sighed before taking a pause as he squinted at me. I blink, uncomfortable. Alastor gently flexes his arm that was wrapped around mine, letting me know he knew I was uncomfortable. It was like a silent promise he would save me from this man in a moment. The white haired man brushed his fingers through his bears as he continued to squint down at me, “you need more makeup darling.”

I cringed as he called me ‘darling’. It was sour, unkind, and predatory.

Before I could respond to his rude comment, he continued, “Really dear, you should invest in some better makeup, that cheap stuff does not work on you.” I blink. I didn’t even realise tears were filling my eyes until I felt a stray droplet roll down my cheek.

Sliding my arm free from Alastor, I ran out from the suddenly small space. Eyes watched me, staring, burning, hot. I forced myself through the crowd, only finding relief as I rushed into the maze like hedges in the back yard.

I gripped at my clothing, tears fully falling as my breathing doubled. The mascara filled tears stained the paved path black. My knees wobbled, heart hurting. I clutched the tight fabric at my chest, suddenly unable to breathe as I cried. I bit the bottom of my lip, trying to silence the weak sound. No one needed to know I was this weak. No one needed to see this.

Wrapping my arms around myself in a makeshift hug, I forced myself toward the centre of the maze, blinking away tears as I found a tall weeping willow. Its branches hung low, creating a safe pocket by its cascading roots. Hiccupping, I escaped into the enclosed space, slamming my back against the prickled wood and sliding down.

I sat in silence.

My name echoed on the wind.

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t want Alastor to see me here. See me so broken. I knew I wasn’t built for this. I didn’t have status, looks, anything. I didn’t belong.

But Alastor, despite my wishes and prayers, found me. He didn’t smile as he approached me. Without a word, he sat next to me, back resting against the tree.

He wrapped his hand in mine.

Warm.

“It’s official, going out is not for me,” I force a giggle, finishing with a sniffle, “Guess I’m just too ugly for anything.”

“NEVER say that again,” Alastor is stern. I look at him, he’s staring at me. No smile, no raised brow. His face is flat, serious. It's almost unnerving. Behind his brown eyes, rage and softness mixes with each other constantly dousing each other out in a battle to win over his emotions, “You are more beautiful than any woman in the world. And definitely ten times more attractive than any woman in that room” He sighs, tightening his grip on my hand. “Fuck, I wish you could just understand how much-”

Alastor swore.

He never swears.

I blink, absolutely shocked.

He brought a hand to his hair, brushing the few loose strands back, making his hair look more dishevelled. Lightly he tugged on my hand, catching my attention.

“Would you like to go home?”

I nod, and without a word, he helped me to my feet before pulling me into a hug. And the tears swelled up behind my eyes again. Smearing my makeup into his red vest, I bit my lip once more, trying to hold back the tears. But as the tears started flowing, further ruining his clothes, he didn’t make a single complaint as he slowly guided me toward the array of cabs coming and going.

Chapter Text

‘Weekend Morning Show Host Found Dead’
‘Alexander Brasington, the weekend host to the famous New Orleans radio broadcast was found dead behind his own home this morning-’

I stopped reading, tucking the paper under my arm. Another murder from this mystery murderer. And coincidently, the man that had made me cry last night.

Brushing it off with a shrug, I pulled out the book store’s keys from my purse. Fitting it into the lock, I gave the lock a twist. Pushing the door open, the all familiar ring making me smile, I quickly set my things on the back desk of the front counter and quickly opened the store.

Brushing my hands on my dress, cleaning them of dust, I turned around to face the front counter. My heart leapt. I hadn't noticed it as I came, but on the counter there sat two roses. Everything was the same, the lack of thorns, the perfectly grown petals, the colour, the bow. But what was new was a little price of paper squeezed between the string and the stems of the flowers.

Delicately prying the paper from the string, my eyes widened. It was one of the many ‘thank you’ notes that were always placed on pre-ordered books, but what stood out was the mini signature in the corner. In perfect cursive the name ‘Hartfelt’ was perfectly written in black pen.

He was leaving the flowers.

He was leaving the flowers.

HE WAS LEAVING THE FLOWERS.

I wasn’t going crazy. I thought it was all a matter of coincidence. The new flowers when the others began to wilt, the matching flowers he had at the event, but why? Was this pity? Or was it something else.

Keeping the note between my fingers, I approached the radio that rested on the countertop next to the record player. Twisting the little dial, the radio sparking to life with static, I tuned the radio onto Alastor’s station. His voice echoed through the small bookstore, and I couldn't stop the shy grin that grew on my lips.

But slowly, my smile faded.

What if he wasn't leaving the flowers?

What if it was a coincidence?

Was this all out of pity?

I did mention how the original flowers were not for me. Maybe he felt bad and decided to reignite my hope by giving me flowers. He didn’t like me. He was just being a gentleman.

Sighing, I dropped the flowers next to my purse. Suddenly the roses didn’t mean anything. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t care for them. Once I got home I’d still put them in a water filled vase. While they were clearly no confession, it was enough of a gesture for it to still be sweet. Alastor still had to take time out of his day to do this and I wouldn’t just throw that away.

Ducking toward the cabinets below, I snatched up a feather duster and began the slow process of dusting off the many books and shelf surfaces. As I began the long mindless job, my focus returned to the radio. Alastor's voice was strangely soothing, and all my panic and disappointment vanished as he began his segment returned after the various sponsored advertisements.

“Now today, the day before valentines, lets discuss Love itself. A complicated feeling I will admit dear listeners, but it's a feeling powerful enough to control even the most adverse of people. Even I have fallen under the spell under recent circumstances. But, expressing love can mean many things. Walking your lady home, leaving flowers, leaving a note, being her knight in shining armour in moments of danger or something as simple as visiting her during her work hours-” my mind blacked, my sweeping motion paused. He was listing off everything he ever did with me. Everything.

My breath hitched, I felt like I couldn't breathe. There was no way. It was all in my mind, my head, I was losing it. But as I faced the two flowers that rested on the countertop, the note returned in its spot under the twine, it hit me. He… loved me? NO. It was a mistake, it was someone else it had to be.

Why me?

“Anf id your lady ever asks, ‘why me?’,” he continued over the radio as if reading my mind with his very words, “simply tell her, it’s because she is the most kind hearted and understanding soul, and she is my world.” I blink, unable to move as I stare at the radio, Alastor continuing to talk about valentines, but all I hear is the racing of my heart in my ears.

He loves me?

The bell of the front door made me jump, snapping the thought down. Spinning on my heel, I watch as a man, with his hat lowered to shadow his face, slithers between the shelves of the store. He doesn’t say anything as he browses, keeping hidden between the isles.

I sigh, the spell broken as I glance back at the radio which now sputtered advertisements. But as I looked back at the roses, and the singular pre-order book that sat on the trolley, that spark of excitement returned even if for a flash. I had never been more excited and nervous for Alastor to pick up his book.

—--

The sun was setting on the horizon when I finished with the last of my work. The store was set to close in a few minutes and Alastor was still not here to pick up his book. And what’s worse, that strange man has been standing in the same corner for hours. He didn’t turn around, didn't pace the isles, just stood in a dark corner, with a perfect view of the front counter at which I stood.

Lining up the various papers by hitting them atop the counter, I settled the loose pages into the log book before chucking them underneath the counter in a small compartment. I had to tell him to leave, but something about this man, even if he wasn’t looking at me, made my nerves prickle.

With a thick swallow, I carefully approached him. Lifting a finger, I tapped him on the shoulder.

The reflection of his green eyes sent a shockwave of fear, but with a shaky breath I mumbled, “Sorry sir, the store is about to close, can you please leave?” The man didn’t reply or blink. He just stared. And breathed.

His breaths were hot and heavy. It was the only sound he let escape his parted lips. And it made my spine crawl as I was brought back to that ominous call from last night. Taking a step back I spared a forced smile before scampering off to the front desk, finding little safety as I hid behind the counter.

Through the glass doors, my eyes caught the familiar colour of red and brown as Alastor entered the store, bell ringing.

“Good evening my dear, sorry for the late visit, I got caught up at work and lost track of time,” he flashed that familiar grin. Without needing to think I grabbed his wrapped book, setting it on the counter.

“That’s alright, happens to the best of us,” my eyes swiftly glance toward the shadowed man lurking in the corner, before ignoring him to pay attention to Alastor as he completely blocked my view.

“So, did you hear the broadcast today,” he asked with a raised brow.

Heat pooled in my cheeks, my heart turning a hot red as I remembered his broadcast. Biting back a smile, I opened my mouth to speak before a loud cough interrupted me. Peering over Alastor's shoulder toward the mysterious man, I watched as his green gaze stared directly at me. Alastor’s attention was focused on the strange man, sidestepping to block the man's view of me, and my view of him. “He’s been here since opening. It’s starting to freak me out.”

“Has he tried anything,” he looked down toward me, brown eyes searching my face.

I shake my head, “No, he just kind of…. Stares?” And the way that the man stared reminded me of HIM. But it couldn't be HIM, he was all the way in El Reno in Oklahoma, he couldn’t be here. Alastor's gaze sharpened, his shoulders tensing as the man silently slinked away, dropping something onto the floor from where he was standing. It was only the moment he went through the doors I decided to approach whatever he dropped.

A dead branch of belladonna flowers.

A tingle shot through me as I stared out the glass doors, but the man was gone. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or panicked that he vanished so quickly.

It’s just a coincidence.

“You alright,” Alastor slowly approached his eyes catching sight of the dead flowers. When gave him a nod, a smile masking my worries, he returned with a quick smile of his own, “let’s get you home.”

—

After locking the store, we began our routine short walk toward my home. The night air was fresh on my face, and I brought my arms close to my chest for warmth. Unfortunately Alastor didn’t wear an overcoat, so I was left to suffer in my misery of forgetting to wear warmer clothes.

“You didn’t get to answer me when I asked if you caught my broadcast,” he looked down at me, head titled and eyebrows raised, “so did you?”

“I, umm, yeah,” I flush, rubbing the back of my neck, “You were very authentic.” I informed. He always asked my opinion on his sections, saying that I was the only person he trusted to give honest feedback on his work, and the only one with the actual literary genius to understand his work.

He grinned with his teeth, those small sharp teeth of his showing as his smile stretched, “I was simply speaking the truth.” His head turned forward, but I could feel his eyes still on me. Watching. My heart began to pick up, my skin growing warm and clammy as a rush of adrenaline coursed through me. My teeth clamped on my bottom lip as I dared to steal and peek at him, but the moment I did, I caught his brown gaze as they stared down at me shamelessly. With a blink I tore my eyes away, forcing them to the floor as my hands grabbed at my dress.

It was on the tip of my tongue. I had wanted to ask if he was talking about me. I wanted- needed to know if his words over his broadcast today were for me. But before I could even summon enough courage to open my mouth, from the shadows of the only alley in the whole street, a figure emerged with the speed of light.

I didn’t know what had happened, but I found myself pushed back into Alastor as a chest slammed into me. I yelped, my voice dying in my throat as the random person’s chest alongside Alastor's squished me as I stood, stuck in the middle of this sudden scuffle.

Alastor’s body barely moved from where I had originally ran into him, only the occasional shuffle causing me to lose my footing for a moment. And suddenly, I was free, the stranger tossed to the floor and scrambled at the pavement before darting off, running down the street without daring to look back. Alastor’s chest heaved harshly before he quickly peeled me from his chest and turned me around to face him.

He checked me over, looking for any sort of injury, worry etched in his face. But as he scanned my body, my eyes remained glued on his cheek. A heavily black bruise was forming, swelling slightly around the cut that pierced his face. He had clearly been punched, but definitely not directly by someone’s fist.

I brought my hands to his face, delicately brushing my fingers across the bruise, avidly avoiding the blood that dripped down his face. He hissed silently, but didn’t move away as his skin flinched against my touch.

How was he even standing?

“Are you alright,” he had the dignity to ask.

My mouth dropped, unable to comprehend his absurd words, “What? I’m not the one who got punched! We need to head to mine before this gets any worse.” Grabbing his hand, I dragged him across the road, he didn’t say a single complaint as I unlocked the front door and dragged him up the stairs toward my apartment.

Swinging the door open, I practically shoved him into the dining chair as I opened the cabinets below the kitchen sink. Pulling out a first aid kit, I quickly unclicked the small metal box, taking out a tiny clean white cloth and a bottle of medical alcohol. Twisting the cap off, I soaked the centre of the cleansing wipe before putting the bottle down and scrambling to Alastor's face.

“This will sting,” I warned as I pressed the wipe against his face. He winced, but didn’t mutter a word as I wiped his cheek clean from the drying blood. Pressing it firmly against the cut, but not enough to agitate the swelling bruise, I quickly instructed Alastor to hole the wipe while I grab some ice. His fingers brushed mine as I let go of the wipe, but I didn’t have time to ponder over the lingering tingles his touch left as I rushed to my fridge.

The door rattled as I opened the pale yellow fridge, pulling out an ice tray and grabbing a handful of ice. The uneven cubed stuck to me as I went to place them on a tea towel, but with a light tug they let their icy grip go of my fingers.

Bunching the towel up like a bindle, I rushed back toward Alastor's face. He watched as I pushed his hand away from his face, the sanitising towel lowering with him revealing the cut. I quickly examined the wound. It was small, shallow, it wouldn't need stitches. Placing the ice pack on his face, I finally breathed.

“Hold that there for a bit. It should reduce the swelling,” I said. He listened immediately, holding the ice close to his face while I got to sit down, a heavy sigh escaping me. “You should clean that cut on your cheek at least once a day to ensure it doesn't get infected,” I mentioned, thinking back to the medical book that sat next to my bed, having been untouched for months, “It’s shallow so you shouldn't need any sort of stitches.”

“You know a lot about this,” he observed, his gaze not leaving me once.

“I used to read medical manuals and books about nursing,” I shrugged, avoiding his gaze, “but I don’t really read them anymore.”

“Why? Not interested in it anymore?” He tilted his head, “I’d think you a nurse with how quickly you handled that whole situation.”

I smiled at the compliment before waving it off, “It’s not that I’m not interested, it's just… I don’t know if knowing how to do an amputation or lock-stitch suture is going to help me find a husband.”

He blinked.

For a breath too long he was silent. Just watching. Staring.

Then he voiced, “why are you so focused on that?”

“Oh what?”

“Finding a husband, or being a good wife,” he waved his free hand toward me, “and all of that?”

I froze, my shoulders tensing. My mouth felt dry, hands grasping at my dress as I looked down in embarrassment, “I haven’t been that direct… have I?”

“Yes, you have. In everything you do it’s your main goal. Anytime you start being yourself you hide away just because it’s not how a wife would act, or it’s not what would help you to find a husband. So why?” His grip tightened around the makeshift icepack, eyes sharp as he stared at me. He wasn't mad just… confused.

I sighed, “it’s because…” Should I tell him, does he want to know? What if he was being gentlemanly? What if he didn’t actually care? What if he laughed? But his unwavering gaze made me feel warm. It made me feel safe. But, as I opened my mouth to spill the truth about my past, about HIM, I paused. That’s not his burden, it’s my own.

So I gave him a fraction of the truth, “I guess it’s because that's how I was taught. In my home I was always told everything I did had to be for my future husband. Do this to be a good wife, don’t do that. And, I suppose even when I left home to escape the berating, it must have stuck with me more than I thought. I thought I escaped my past but I guess it catches up faster than I can outrun it.” I sigh, blinking back tears, “I must have been so painful to be around. Always talking about a husband.”

“Its not that, its just,” he brushes a hand through his hair, curls wounding around his fingers as he paused halfway to stare at me, “when was the last time you did something for you?”

“I don’t know, I mean,” I shrug, “I read medical books. That was for me?” It sounded more like a question to myself if anything. I didn’t even know if it was something I was interested in. Well, it was interesting, but it felt wrong. Weird to read about something that wasn’t focused on pursing a husband. I sigh, “I wouldn’t even know how to do things for me. I’ve been doing things to find a significant other for so long I don't know where the fake me stops and the real me starts.”

“Well, you could start by simply exploring things you’re interested in,” he simply suggested with a slight shrug.

“What are you interested in?” I asked curiously.

“There’s radio of course, and other external activities that are unimportant, the focus is you. If you’re so interested in nursing, why not explore it more?”

“I don’t know. I don’t exactly have anything to practice stitches on. I can’t just give some random person on the street stitches,” I express, “They’d throw me in the loony bin.”

He chuckles lightly at the comment, “you could practice on me. You’d be surprised how many times I have accidentally cut myself… while cooking.” The momentary pause in his sentence made me raise a questioning brow before I ignored it.

“I don’t know, you might lose your hand, and I can’t promise the amputation site will be clean. I’m not exactly great at this,” I gestured to his swelling cheek.

“You don't need to be great. As long as you’re doing something for you.”

—

Alastor went home not long after. I had asked if he was sure he was okay to walk home after such a scary incident. Being punched in the face by a stranger is such a scary thought. And to think it could have been a knife. What then? He could have died. That man could have been the New Orleans Murderer. But Alastor didn’t seem all too worried as he simply decided with a classic, ‘what would the papers say about me staying at such a fine woman's house, the scandals’. I had laughed, but now it made me blush. What would the papers have said? And would I have cared? Would he have cared?

And then there was his insistence that I do something for me and no one else. Wasn’t that selfish? Didn’t that make me a bad person? But maybe he was right. I have been so single minded that I have been ignoring myself. So set on being this perfect little housewife I ignored my own curiosity. And I didn’t have anyone stopping me from trying things, not my mother, not my father, and not HIM.

I was free.

I could finally take a start in doing things just for me.

I smile at the thought of expanding my world, changing my routine, while still doing something that was in my comfort zone. I could read more medical books, explore with maybe writing some stories, and maybe find time to bake. I wasn’t tethered to my past anymore.

Approaching my bedroom, I pushed the door gently open, the frigid breeze from the open window hitting me in the face. I swore I had locked that. But as the door opened fully, and I took a single step into my private sanctuary, I felt that all too familiar wave of fear rush through me.

Dead belladonna flowers.

A whole vase full.

The vase that had once held the roses was now on my bedside table, the roses destroyed on the hardwood floors, their spot stolen by the dead berries. But that wasn’t what made my heart run cold. At least not the only thing. Because there, next to the vase, sat a perfectly folded note. And as I grabbed the small piece of paper in my hands, prying the folded paper apart, everything ran cold.

‘Found you.’

Chapter Text

Weeks.

The notes, the dead belladonna flowers. They have been plaguing my life for weeks.

Everywhere I went, I felt eyes watch me. I felt a breath on my neck. I felt hands crawl up my spine. Not even in my own home did I feel safe. Because HE was somehow getting inside. The notes, the flowers, HE knew how to get into my home. I began locking the second door. I began closing curtains.

But no matter what I did, the flowers prevailed.

Then there were the roses. Every third day, new roses would show up on my doorstep. Destroyed. The petals were torn apart, the stems broken, it was like a crime scene. And atop the corpse of the violated flowers always stood a brown dead flower.

I had gone to the police a week after these incidents began. They didn’t do anything, laughing me out of the building. They didn’t care, didn’t bat an eye. They had ‘far more important things to worry about than my little lover problem.’ I was alone. And the note that was pressed against the door crack on my front door reaffirmed my thoughts.

Clutching my purse to my chest, I stared blankly at the various pasties and teats that lined the bakeries shelves. Usually, the weekly trip to the bakery was one of my favourite expeditions. The line of of treats was always so exciting, especially to a sweet tooth like me. Besides the usual purchase of bread, I always bought a little something extra, a little sweet to spice up my life. To slightly twist my routine.

But now, I stood, feeling nothing but pure paranoia. I felt crazy, flinching at ghosts that weren't there. This could have all been some cruel joke, and I hoped it was. But the notes were too knowing, too specific. HE was back and it was only a matter of time before I lost everything I worked so hard for. HE would take me back.

“Good afternoon,” the chipper voice of the old lady behind the counter made me jump, my eyes wildly scanning the bakery around me. But I was alone in the bakery, besides the lady, not a soul was inside the bakery. “You alright deary?” she asked cautiously, noting the tired bags that grew darker day by day. Sleep was a foreign term to me.

“Yes, sorry, you startled me,” I sighed, placing a hand on my racing heart, “just a loaf please." The lady nodded before turning around to grab the bread, bringing it to the back to have it cut and wrapped up for me.

It was a process that took no more than a few minutes. But it was a few minutes too long. The silence of nothing but the faint buzz of the bread cutting machine filled the silent void. I was alone, yet not. I could feel his eyes, his breath.

HE was watching.

He was always watching. He knew where I was. How long would it take for him to strike? What was his plan?

I kept my eyes to the floor, struggling to breathe. The blur in my vision, the strain in my breathing. My throat felt swollen, my heart felt pained, it hurt. It all hurts.

“(Y/N)?” I jumped, my body swirling around in a dazed panic as I frantically backed up, back hitting the counter. I was cornered. I thought it was over, he caught me, but staring back at me was Mimzy. Her small hands were raised, clearly surprised by my panicked reaction. “You alright there,” she asked, smile fading, “You seem a little… that.”

I took in a gasping breath as I shook my head, “I’m fine, you just surprised me.” Lowering the hand from my heart, my fingers began picking at the sew lines of my purse. Mimzy stared at me, unconvinced but before she could question me further, I quickly asked, “What are you doing here?”

She squinted her eyes at me, suspicious of the quick subject change, but thankfully she ignored my paranoid behaviour, “A girl deserves a little treat every once in a while.” She pushed at her blond bob, closing her eyes as she did so.

“Yeah,” I mumbled simply, my ever searching eyes still trying to spot HIM. But he was nowhere. Was I just imagining his gaze? No, it felt too real.

“Hun, you look like you saw a ghost,” Mimzy remarked. I didn’t register Mimzy’s words as I focused on the sound of the baker returning to the room, sliced bread in hand. Without a word I paid, took the bread, and began to mindlessly leave. But Mimzy brought pause to my retreat, stepping in front of me, “Hun, I can sense something is up with you. And I think I know how to help.”

—

She took me to Alastor's work, swayed her hips and money around a little bit, and now here I sat, right outside his booth with a small pastry resting on my lap, wrapped perfectly in butcher's paper. I stared at the pastry Mimzy bought for me to give to Alastor when he went on break. Blinking at the concealed pastry, I pushed my clutch further between my legs, the sweat forming where the leather warmed my skin making me feel clammy.

Why did they make a radio broadcasting room so damn hot.

As I shuffled, the pastry resting between my fingers, I realized something.

Mimzy took my bread.

I went to the bakery to get bread, and here I was breadless. Sighing, I stared at my feet. I didn’t even know why I was here. Mimzy in all her flashy character, never uttered a word of why she brought me here. Maybe she thought seeing Alastor would calm whatever nerves were prickling under my skin.

And as he walked through the recording booth’s door, I knew she was right.

Maybe it was his charming smile, his calm eyes, his ever so slightly curled hair, but whatever it was, my tense shoulders unclenched for the first time in days. The bruise and cut that had once swelled his face was nearly gone, the ugly faded yellow the last reminders of the random attack.

“Oh, (Y/N), what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, it's been painfully long since I last saw you,” he smiles. A small smile of my own crept on my lips.

“Mimzy dragged me here,” I lifted the pastry toward him, “She got this for you.” He blinked, his eyes dancing between me and the food. And with gentle hands, he pushed the chocolate filled pastry back toward me.

“You look like you need it more than me,” he said as he stared at me. He noticed. Of course he noticed. I had lost weight. A drastic amount since that initial note. My appetite was almost non-existent, if I even bothered to make food. And there was the fear of leaving my house to get groceries, leaving me without food for a day or two as I travelled between work and home, if I even went to work.

I had been calling in sick for days, unable to even stomach the idea of leaving my house.

Holding the pastry close, I simply placed it into my clutch, not caring at the spilling crumbs. As I looked back up at Alastor, I saw worry behind his eyes. He wanted to ask those three words, the three words that would have made me collapse in tears if he asked. But he refrained, having seen the glassy reflection in my eyes.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Don’t you still have work,” I stood, eyes low.

“I have a little break,” he shrugged, offering his arm for me to loop my own between. I didn’t. And from the slow drop in his arm, I knew I had hurt him.

—

It had been days since I stepped outside. Days since I talked to Alastor, Mimzy, anyone. The note that rested on the dining table when she came home after walking through the city with Alastor was all the warning she needed.

‘I saw that man with you. Never let it happen again.’

It sat discarded at the bottom of my bin. But it haunted me. It’s all I thought about. He would go after Alastor. I had to cut ties. I had to hide. Isolate. HE will go away. HE will get bored. HE WILL LEAVE ME ALONE!

But he never did.

I lost my job.

It came in a call. I had too many sick days, I had not warned of days I wouldn’t be in at work. The owners best worker, now a mess. I had no income anymore. I had nothing to pay rent. The bills would start piling up. I’d be kicked out eventually. And HE would get me.

My eyes were red from crying, my body almost completely bones merely held together by skin. I was tired, crazed, a mess.

Then the photos came.

The photos.

It had just made me panic more. Me sleeping. Me eating. Me bathing. Me completely exposed.

The photos were scattered across the coffee table. I should have thrown them away, ignore it, not let him control me again. But I couldn't. As the photos stared at me, the dread they brought was a stark reminder of what I was up against. I had to hide. I had to stay awake.

A knock at the door.

I went rigid.

Unlocking the top door with a click, I pressed my keys between my knuckles, ready to punch whoever was behind the front door. Lifting on my tip toes, all panic, all fear, melted. Alastor.

Then like a stab to my heart, the fear came rushing back. He couldn’t be here. HE will see. Swinging the door open before Alastor could knock again, Alastor's eyes widened. He seemed lost for words at my state. The tangled hair, the black bags under my eyes, my malnourished form. I must have looked like a ghost.

“(Y/N)?” he called my name ever so softly, voice struggling as emotions rushed through him, “What happened?” I barely listened to him as my head swung left and right, watching for any movement in the shadows. Any sign of HIM. But when I didn’t spot anyone, my stomach twisted ten fold.

Pushing against his chest ever so lightly, I quickly whispered, “You need to go-”

But with a warm grip on my wrists, he lowered my arms, eyes boring into mine, “(Y/N), what's wrong?” My voice was caught in my throat, tears welling behind my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to tell him, to cry and let all my troubles escape. But I couldn’t put that on him. I couldn’t put him in such danger.

“It’s nothing, I just,” I licked my cracked lips, voice shaky as I breathed, “I’ve not been feeling well.”

“Don’t lie,” he kept his voice low as to not scare me more. I could tell he wanted to snap, the furrow of his brows told me that much. “Did someone do this to you?” a darkness crossed his face, the smallest amount of venom leaking through his soft words. But I shook my head and tried to free my hands from his grip.

He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to leave. HE NEEDED TO LEAVE.

My breathing became ragged, desperate. My eyes scanned the shadows of the street, the few lamps on the street doing little to ease my panic. A warm hand found its way on my cheek, the gentle gesture pulling me to pause. Slowly, my head was carefully directed toward Alastor’s gaze. I wanted to move, to shove him away. But the worry he held for me made me want to break down again.

I didn’t even notice a tear fall down until his thumb delicately wiped the falling tear away. His thumb caressed my face, warm and careful, afraid I would crumble away into dust at the slightest of touches. And it felt that way.

I didn’t notice the shake in my bones, the pain in my dissolving stomach, the exhaustion in my brain. I didn’t feel like me. I wonder if I ever did. It all felt so surreal. Me standing here, Alastor caressing my cheek.

But I had to get him to leave.

“(Y/N), if someone hurt you tell me,” how I wished he didn’t say such silly things. It made pushing him away so much more painful.

“You need to leave,” I uttered, my voice barely there as it cracked.

“(Y/N)?”

“Please,” my voice broke, my lips shaking as I forced the words out. And that simple word seemed to be Alastor's breaking point. He saw the fear, the pain. And he thought he was causing it. So with a sigh, he let me go. My face missed his warmth, my wrists too. I can’t remember the last time I felt warm.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” he whispered, backing off the front step, “But please, call me if you need me okay. I am always willing to lend an ear.”

Without a word, I shut the door slowly. The moment it clicked, I exploded in tears. Turning my back against the door, I became a complete mess as I leaned on the dark green wood. My chest heaved, a pain I had never felt convulsing through my thin bones.

But before I could wail anymore, the phone from my bedroom rang. I didn’t want to answer it. But mindlessly, as if hypnotised, I clambered up the stairs, closed and locked the upstairs door, and stumbled into the dark room. I didn’t turn the lights on anymore. Too risky. Too bright.

Bony fingers wrapping around the speaker, I picked up. And from the first heavy breath, I knew who was on the other side of the line. I wanted to cry, scream, curse at the man on the other side of the phone. But I kept my mouth shut. I knew what he would do if I spoke out of turn. The scars on my back burning from the memory.

I sniffled.

HE breathed.

Gulping, I nervously hung the phone up after minutes of silence. But the moment the call ended, a loud smash rattled my ears. Glass shattered, my bedroom’s window collapsing as a rock was pelted through the window.

It skidded on the floor before coming to a stop. I held back my screams, my hand pressing against my mouth to conceal my cries. Slowly, I picked up the stone that had invaded my home, the blood pouring from my feet as I walking atop the shattered glass was numb. I didn’t feel the sharp pricks of glass piercing my skin, I didn’t feel the blood that stained my floors, I didn’t feel anything as I read the words etched into the stone.

‘I warned you didn’t I, my sweet’

Nothing registered. The twisting of numbers on the dial, the click of someone answering, and the shaky words that spewed from my lips, “Mimzy, can- can I stay at yours tonight.”

Chapter Text

The cool hardwood floors pierced into my bony back. Everything felt sore yet numb. Resting my forearm on my forehead, I simply stared at the ceiling. I was tired. So painfully tired. But I couldn’t sleep. Each blink was heavier than the last, yet they kept opening.

Rolling my head to the side, I stared at the door that led to the stairway. Mimzy was definitely telling Alastor about my mental and physical breakdown. I dragged my hands down my face as I remembered the absolute fear in MImzy’s eyes when she saw me. And I couldn't blame her.

That's why after staying at hers for barely an hour, I walked home.

The cold gentle breeze was nearly enough to push me to the ground. The frigid winter air seeping into my practically exposed bones. But I couldn’t burden Mimzy like that. Bringing her between me and HIM. I couldn't do that to her.

So I walked.

It was the dead of night when I came home, shutting the door behind me. Did I lock it? It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. That's why the idea of the New Orleans murderer catching me out in the middle of the night didn’t scare me. I had actually silently hoped whoever they are did get me. It would have ended my suffering.

Sighing, my weak lungs coughing, I flopped my hand beside my hair. My eyes trailed the thin fingers, watching how they twitched and curled without my knowing. How strange our bodies are. Here I am, nearly nothing more than dust, and yet my body pushes through. Yet I suffer through another day of forcing down a little something just so I don’t die.

How selfish.

Here I was, torturing the two people in my life that actually meant something. They were worried, scared for me. But I wasn’t scared. I was so ready to give up, just let the world swallow me. But I couldn't just let go, all because of Alastor.

It was greedy, it was gluttonous. But I needed him. How could I simply end things when he was still waiting for me to call. Waiting for me to bring him back into my small world. Yet, I push him away. And it hurt him. I wanted to run to his home, it wasn’t too far from where I lived near the edge of the city, just a twenty-minute walk, less if I ran. But my shaky legs couldn’t even bother to stand, never mind walk.

Swallowing a heavy gulp, I wanted to cry but I had nothing left to give. So I stared and simply lay there on the floor. No one was coming for me. Not anymore.

Alone.

Hungry.

Tired.

I'm so tired.

And slowly, I was letting the endless battle of sleep win, my eyes grew unbearably heavy. Slowly, painfully slow, darkness began to trap me in its relieving grasp. I was so close. My body felt light, my breathing finally evened out, my heart slowing.

Then it happened.

The front door downstairs slammed open, rattling the small apartment. I didn’t lock it. Jumping to my feet with the little strength I had, I stood, like a deer in headlights, staring at the door that led to the staircase. The only thing separating me from the outside world. I remained silent, listening, praying it would be Alastor calling out my name. But at the creak of my bottom stair, I knew it wasn’t Alastor.

Scrambling to the stairway door, I flicked the lock shut, the noise bringing the perpetrator running up the stairs. HE knew I was here now. At the door rattled, shaking under the pressure he put on it, I stumbled backwards, knocking over the dining room chair. The loud bang from the stool made me jump, snapping me out of my trance.

Running to my bedroom, I shut the door, dragging the chair from my vanity to block the doorway. It wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. I knew I should have replaced the broken lock on my bedroom door.

I could hear the banging on the front door and could almost feel how the lock was about the break. My breathing was ragged, panicked, heart pounding painfully in my chest, nearly piercing against my ribs. Clutching my nightdress, I took a step back from the door, my mind running through my options.

I could ring the police box that rested at the end of the street, but those things were more often broken than not. I could run for it, but he’d catch me for no doubt. And it hit me. I was cornered. Everything I had worked for would disappear. I would never find out what interested me, I’d never get to see MImzy again, I’d never see Alastor again.

Alastor.

My head snapped toward the phone that rested on my nightstand. I stumbled, nearly slipping flat on my face as my knees begged to give in. Snatching up the speaker, my shaky fingers dialled, spinning the rotary device.

Another bang shook the room, as HE tried to desperately knock in the apartment door. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then the click of Alastor picking up the phone sent a sliver of hope piercing my heart.

Before he could say a word into the receiver, I began to frantically scream, tears I didn’t even know I had streaming down my face, “ALASTOR HES GOING TO KILL ME!” I rushed my words, my mouth feeling dry as I tried to straighten my thoughts. “Alastor please, I’m scared.”

“Hide. Right now. I’m coming, just hold on,” he didn’t question. He didn’t hesitate. Just did. Nodding my head, despite him not being able to see it, I set the phone back before I looked through my room. But I didn’t have time to think of where to hide as the door at the front gave in, the lock tearing the wood as it swung open, banging into the wall.

Yelping, I dropped onto the floor and scrambled under my bed. I placed a hand on my mouth, trying to silence my heavy breathing. Tucking myself as far as I could from the edges of the bed, I hid in the shadow, praying HE would think I took the jump out the broken bedroom window.

It didn’t take long for him to shove my bedroom door open, the vanity chair doing nothing to slow him. His shoes came into view as he stepped into my bedroom. I could hear his frenzied breathing, his little airy laughs of pleasure.

His boots clicked against the floor, crunching over the shattered glass with ease as he circled the bed. He was like a vulture, walking back and forth around the edges of the bed, each click of his boots on the floor sending jolts of paralysis down my body.

Then without a word, he stopped, boots frozen right before my face. In a moment, his face came into view, wicked smile growing his lips in a twisted manner.

“Found you my sweet,” he chuckled. I scrambled back, trying to hide further under the bed, but his hand rushed for me, snatching at my hair without remorse. I wanted to scream, tried to call for help, but my voice was silent. Broken.

Sickly, he dragged me from under the bed by my hair, specks of blood trickling from my scalp as hair was plucked from my head. My feet scraped against the floor, the scabs on the soles of my feet peeling open leaving a trail of blood behind.

Lifting me to my feet, my hair bunched in his hands, his twisted smile sharped, “Think you could just get away bitch.” With a violent shove, he forced me onto the floor boards, face smashing into the floor. My teeth pierced my bottom lip, blood tainting my taste, its metallic flavour making me feel sick.

Reaching forward, I tried to pull myself away from him, but a sharp step on my hand stopped me in my tracks. A scream passed my lips as I felt his book grind against the bone. Not enough to shatter, but enough to make my bones quiver.

“Where do you think you’re going,” he purred, before rolling me only my back with a simple kick of his foot, “I think you owe me a little something.” Wincing and bringing my hand to my chest the second his boot let go of my hand, I didn’t get a moment to breath before HE was atop me, hands wrapping around my throat. Shoving his knee between my legs, he pressed against me, completely cornering me. I swing my legs uselessly, hand pushing against his chest. But with a single hand, holding my wrists together, he forced my arms above my head, as his other hand continued to block my airways.

I gulped, the pressure from his hand making it painful. His knee pressed further into me, making me wince.

“This is going to be fun,” he smiled, drool seeping past his teeth as he stared down at me, “No one is coming for you. You’re all mine. Mine for the taking.” I kicked, I struggled, but his face grew closer to mine. I forced my head to the side, but a sharp hold on my face forced me to look at him as he brought his lips toward mine. I shut my eyes, not wanting to believe this was real.

And when his lips were centimetres from my own, I heard it, “(Y/N)!” Alastor's voice echoed down the street. He alerted his presence. But not for me, but for HIM. To warn HIM someone was coming.

HIS grip on me weakened as he looked toward the shattered window, listening for the man that just called my name. In his distracted state, I slammed my head upward, colliding my skull with his jaw sending him careening back with a hiss. Rolling onto my stomach, I desperately forced myself onto my feet, my legs struggling to find hold on the floor as I scrambled for the door. But a sharp pull on my ankle sent me toward the floor once more.

A sharp knee dug into my back, forcing me to the ground once more, “You’re not going anywhere.” Hand tearing at my hair once more, he forced me onto my feet, his hand reaching into his pocket before pulling out a pocket knife. He switched the blade open as Alastor rushed up the stairs, he lifted it toward me as Alastor ran into my apartment, he pressed it to my neck as Alastor came to halt before us.

There was a darkness in Alastor's eyes as he stared at the man behind me. I had seen glimpses of this darkness, but nothing like this. He wasn’t hiding it this time, it was on full display as he stared at the man.

Yet in his angered state, he spoke in a cool tone that could freeze even the most brave of men, “Let. Her. Go.” With a sharp pull on my hair, making me wince with a whimper, HE pressed the knife deeper into my neck. Not enough to draw blood, but I could feel the press of the cold blade against the pumping of my blood.

“Back off, or the bitch gets its,” he hissed, eyes crazed.

“Please,” I pathetically whimpered, wanting this to stop. But he quickly let go of my hair to move his hand over my mouth, forcing my broken please silent. His hands pressed firmly against my face, his thumb and index finger pinning my nose closed blocking my air once again. My hands scrambled to his wrist, trying to pry him off as black dots filled my vision.

Alastor took a commanding step forward, but the swivel of the knife toward him brought him to a grumbling stop. He saw I was struggling, he saw my chest stop breathing. I needed air, I needed to breathe. My lungs burned, aching for air.

And in that moment, I forgot all morals as I swiftly opened my mouth and bit on his hand with no remorse. My teeth dug into his skin, canines digging deep enough to nearly pierce into his flesh.

Cursing, HE shoved my body to the side, throwing me toward the floor once more. But this time my fall was broken by my head slamming into the edge of my nightstand, a sickening crack the only sound I heard as I fell to the floor. For a moment, the world was black. I could feel warmth spreading on the back of my head, pouring around me.

Sounds around me were muffled, the world blurry as I opened my eyes. I blinked, my focus straining, eyes hurting. Blinking once more, I looked toward Alastor, blood splattered his face as he stared down at the motionless body below him. He panted, knife in hand as he stared at the man that once tormented me.

He didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact he killed someone.

Didn’t panic.

Question himself.

Nothing.

He simply wiped his hair back with his blood stained hands, smile on his face. His eyes were calm as he looked at the dead bodies, his gaze strangely pleased. And with another slow blink, I felt my heart stutter from realisation.

Alastor was the New Orleans Murderer.

But from the way his once calm demeanour turned into panic as he looked at me, I couldn’t care less. Maybe it was the pounding headache that was growing in my brain, or the possible loss of consciousness, but I still didn’t care. He saved my life.

“Fuck,” the curse slipped past his lips as he knelt before me, eyes wild as he brought a strangely soothing hand to the back of my head.

Blink.

Blood coated his hand as he pulled away from me. Another curse slips past his lips as he stared at the red liquid.

Blink.

I was suddenly in the air, weightless as the world around me became a blur. The man's body disappearing from my view as Alastor left my bedroom.

Blink.

Cold air rushed my senses as the dark outside world buzzed around me. I would have shivered had it not been for the warmth radiating from Alastor's chest. I rolled my head further into him, the movement barely noticeable. But Alastor did. He always did.

Blink.

“Don’t you dare shut your eyes on me,” he shouted, the rumble of thunder above us nearly drowning out his words. Raining. It was raining. Since when was it raining? I glanced up to Alastor, seeing his brown curls fall against his face from the water. He didn’t stop as he ran, his chest barely heaving as he carried me to who knows where.

I wanted to blink, I wanted to close my eyes one last time, but his distraught face made me keep my eyes open. He was always so cheerful. Where’s his smile?

“Stay awake for me okay,” his voice shook, making me even more sad, “We’re almost there.” His arms shook as he held me. I was confused. Why was he so shaky? Did something happen? I hope he’s alright? Is that why he is sad? I should cheer him up. I like his smile.

A soft weak smile grew on my lips, Alastor's eyes widening at the sight making him panic more. I don’t know why he was so scared. But before I could ask what had happened, the strange weight of my eyelids grew too heavy for me to bear.

And as I closed them to blink, they didn’t open again.

Chapter Text

My body jolted upright the second my world turned permanently black. It felt like no more than a blink before I found myself surrounded by bright lights. Trumpets sounded around me as I adjusted to the light. The ground beneath me was overly soft, feeling like I could fall through at any moment.

Gripping at the strangely fluffy ground, I shook my head, trying to stop the ache in my ears that came from the loud trumpets. I didn’t know when I grew such sensitive ears but it hurt like hell.

With a wince at another pulse in my ears, I opened my eyes against the bright light. Before me, two golden gates awaited, their surface shining nearly as bright as the golden light that illuminated behind them. I blinked.

Unable to register what stood before me, I looked down at my hand, watching as layers of fluffy cloud wrapped around my limb. Only, it didn’t look like my hand. As I lifted it before my face, I struggled to process the sight of shirt black nails and the sight of white fur. It grew along my arm, dissipating into my normal skin halfway up my arm. With my other hand, which looks eerily similar to the other, I gently caressed the soft patch of fur, my skin crawling as the short soft strands brushed under my fingers.

“Welcome to heaven” a cheerful voice made me jump, the fur along my arms and apparently at the bottom of my legs rose on end. Shaking my head, I blinked. Heaven? I was dead? Lifting a hand to my head, I brushed through the soft strands, stopping as I felt something protruding from the top of my head. I paused as I caressed the soft furry ear.

My breath hitched.

“I’m dead?” I whispered before leaping to my feet in a panic. Rushing toward the golden gate, I stared at my reflection in the shiny metal, my eyedening as I stared at myself.

I was a doe.

Long white ears with black tips matched my now white hair. Small white wings fluttered behind me, and as I twisted my body to look down my back, I froze at the sight of a short white deer tail. My feet were replaced with hooves, the white fur surrounding them growing up until halfway up my leg before it dissipated into my natural skin tone. And along my cheeks, soft freckles marked my face, much like the patterns on a deer's back.

I reared back, my breathing increasing as my heart pounded, “dead? I can’t be dead?” I died. I DIED. But what happened. I was fine moments ago. I was alive as Alastor carried me in his arms. Alastor. What would he think? Would he care? Of course he would care, he saved my life… or at least tried to. But here I was. I left him behind.

Tears brimmed my eyes, as I thought about all the memories we had yet to share. The words I had yet to admit. He may have been a murderer, but I loved him.

“Now, now, no need to cry,” the man behind the podium tried to calm me, “This is a good thing.” I snapped, my eyes glaring at him with what little energy I had.

“A good thing? I’m dead,” my lips quivered, my voice creaky. Taking a step back, my footing became unbalanced as I fell back onto the soft cloud underneath me. Clutching the clothing between my heart, I held onto the fabric as my heart pounded.

I let HIM kill me. I let HIM ruin my life.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Pulling at my white ears, I tore them forward, the pain grounding me as I began to spiral. This was a nightmare it had to be. I wasn’t dead, I wasn’t an angel, and I wasn’t some weird doe.

“That’s true, but all your worries will disappear as soon as I get your name,” than man clapped his hands together, prompting me to look over at him. With a pearly white smile, he opened his expansive book with a thud. “Now, your name please,” he lifted glasses onto his face as he waited for my answer.

Glasses.

Alastor wore glasses.

I miss him. I wonder what he was doing now.

The man cleared his throat, making me look at him once more. Sighing, I sat upright, watching as my skirt flowed around my legs as I stood up.

“(Y/N) (L/N),” I mumbled.

With a smile, he flicked past a few pages before stopping. Placing his finger on the glowing book, he brought his finger down, repeating my name silently to himself. His eyes went from left to right, searching. Reaching the end of the page, he paused, then returned to the top of the page and searched once more. He paused again. Scanned again. Then paused once more.

“Oh, um, this is very odd,” he whispered to himself before smiling down at me, “One moment please.” Before I could ask anything he vanished in a puff od white cloud. I blink, staring at the golden podium where he once stood.

Sighing, I looked around the entrance to heaven, my ears perking at the sight of the edge of the cloud. Slowly approaching the misty edge, I peered down past stray flecks of cloud, staring down at the red abyss below.

There was a city. A city of red. Red lights, red buildings, red everything. Squinting down at the red city, I wandered what it was until a female voice behind me made me jump with a yelp.

Spinning around, I was faced by a tall female with multiple wings along her back. Her halo was bright as she hovered above me, eyes never leaving me as she looked down at me. The dress she wore matched the blueish colour of her wings.

“(Y/N) was it,” I nodded as she spoke with such elegance, “I am Sera, come with me if you please.” She nodded her head ever so slightly as she flew past the now open golden gates. Something about her set me uneasy. Maybe it was the lack of a smile, or the concern in her watchful gaze, but as I followed her, fluttering my own wings, I couldn’t help but feel my stomach twist.

Passing the golden gates and entering the binding light, it took a few moments before the light dissipated into something more tolerable. And from my place above in the sky, I stared down at the small city of heaven. All sorts of creatures ran around, each with their own pair of wings. They all hand halos shining bright as they played and laugh.

Looking up at the top of my own head, my stomach felt like stone as I found I didn’t bare a halo.

Sera soared high before landing on an open balcony that rested on the side of an extremely tall building. Landing next to her with much less grace, she guided me into the building with her wings.

Something was definitely wrong.

Lights flickered on, revealing a court room. I stopped, my fear holding me in place. Was I being judged? Did I do something wrong? A gently touch on my lower back made me continue forward as Sera guided me onto the centre where a mini platform stood. Stepping up onto the stage, she silently flew to her spot at the top of the golden court.

I gulped as more lights blinked on, revealing various angels all looking down on me. My wings lowered, my tail fell between my legs, and my ears pinned back. I was being judged.

“Npw that is a sexy lady,” my ears flicked as I followed the sound of the masculine voice, my head lowering as I locked eyes with a masked man, a wicked smile drawn on his mask, “she would be a good fuck.” He elbowed the black masked angel next to him, their face blank as he nudged them.

“Adam please,” Sera said as she rubbed her temples with two fingers, “This is serious.” All the angels of the court looked up toward Sera, waiting expectantly for her to explain. With a sigh, she gestured toward me with an outstretched hand, “Her name was not in the book. Yet here she is, an angel. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Peter, are you sure he name was not written down?” Some turned toward the angel that guarded the door while others looked at me, their stares boring into me. Sweat coated my hands as I looked down at my hooved feet, shuffling from one to the other.

“I swear, I searched for her name multiple times. It’s just not there,” he shrugged, completely clueless.

Everyone gasped, whispering between one another while keeping their eyes on me. It burned. The stares of hatred, confusion, pity. It was too much. Wrapping my arms around myself, I kept my head low as I spun around on my spot, watching all the court angels erupt into argument.

“ENOUGH,” Sera screeched, bright blue eyes covering the entirety of her body, bringing a silence over the court. My fur stood on end at the loud call, ears pulsating. Sighing, she leaned forward, hands resting on the railing before her, eyes dissipating as she breathed.

A much smaller and younger looking angel stood next to her. They looked almost identical next to each other, but the smaller one was clearly fascinated by my presence rather than afraid.

“What should we do,” Peter asked, looking up toward Sera. I stared up at the multi-winged angel. Sera met my gaze as she stared at me. She let out a breath before she folded her hands behind her elegantly.

“She was not in the book,” she addressed me with her wings opening as she passed her judgement, “so, this must be a sort of mistake.” Everyone looked at her before their eyes returned to me.

“What, you don’t know that,” the smaller angel beside her panicked as she looked up at Sera.

“Emily, she doesn’t have a halo,” I ducked low, embarrassment rushing through me, “she's clearly not supposed to be here.”

“Then why does she look like an angel? She's got the wings, the animal form, the colour scheme. I mean what kind of demon has ever been a doe,” she tried to defend, her wings twisting with the urge to fly.

“That's enough Emily,” Sera dismissed her, “We don’t know why she is here, but it is my job to keep our people safe. And letting in someone who is not in the books is a security risk.” I gulped. I took as step back, my feet leaving the mini stage as I backed away from the court. But golden chains emerged from the floor, wrapping around my wrists and binding them with searing light. I hissed as they burnt into my fur. “Adam,” she turned toward the demon with the sharp smile, “take her wings and erase her memories. She knows too much about heaven. Then… send her down.”

“Sera, you can’t be-”

“I said ENOUGH Emily,” the eyes returned on Sera's body as she turned to face the smaller angel. The smaller angel grew quiet, her eyes filling with tears as she looked down at me. With a whispered apology she flew out of the court room, leaving me at the mercy of the court.

I tried to pull myself free, I wanted to beg, plead for my innocence, but it was too late. Golden blood spewed from my back as my wings were torn from my back. I screamed as the flesh was divided from me. It felt like I was being split in half.

I struggled, my body flailing, but it did nothing against the chains that kept me bound. I pulled, tug, tore, but nothing could free me. Golden blood poured down my back, surrounding the floor beneath me as I fell to my knees.

Two cold hands hand my temples as my head was forced to look up. Sera stared down at me, a silent apology leaving her lips as he eyes turned stark white. My mind was infiltrated, probed, as the angel tore through my memories.

Tears streamed down my face as I begged. But she didn’t stop. She set my memory aflame, shattering everything I knew of life and heaven. And as I found myself in the endless pit of darkness once more, I realised I didn't know anything. I didn’t know myself in life, I didn’t know myself in death. I was just nothing. A nobody.

And as my body fell, wind whistling past my ears, I wanted to cry at the loss. The loss of what, I didn't know. But I didn't feel whole.

As the only thing I ever knew as I awoke in the pits of hell was my name.

Chapter Text

So many years had passed since I woke up in hell. Had it been decades or centuries. Time past by so fast down here that it wasn’t something I kept track of. Although, I had been around long enough to see the radio demons rise in power, an extremely powerful demon who controlled all the radios of hell who came into hell not too long after me. He was some guy named Alastor, but as long as he didn’t come to broadcast my soul's screams on his broadcast I didn’t really care what he did. I even used to tune into his broadcasts until he disappeared for seven years.

His reputation was never the same after the Vees, the tech overlords, took up on Alastor's disappearance and spread their technology and influence like wildfire. I even had a phone nowadays and took up the more ‘modern’ clothing style. Shot cut shirts and jeans. Strangely a lot more comfier than the dresses I had been wearing all my life… unlife? Whatever this was.

However, the control the Vee’s had on the city had decreased since the Hazbin Hotels rebuild, Alastor at the forefront and more popular than ever after surviving fighting Adam. Sure, he didn’t kill him, but to even survive an arch angel was a power move in itself.

But none of that really affected me. As long as all overlords were far away from me, I didn’t really care what any of them did.

“Order up,” the deep voice of the chief brought me out of my daze. Tightening my apron around my waist, I quickly picked up the chipped plates full of food and made my rounds around the cafe. Dropping each plate at their designated table, I spun to the front counter as another demon waited for me to take their order.

“Cappuccino,” the wolf demon barked, swiping on their phone as they chucked their money on the counter. Sliding the coins into the cash register, I spun around and began to make the drink. Heat steamed from the coffee machine as I poured the hot black liquid into the plain white cup, my nose wincing at the overbearing smell.

Steaming the milk with a buzz from the machine, I quickly poured the fluffed and hot milk into the black espresso drink, adding a small leaf artwork on the top foam. Rushing it to the wolf demons table, I continued the process of taking orders, rushing, making drinks, and bringing food to everyone's table.

It wasn’t exactly a fun job, but waking up in hell with no memories made finding a job a challenge. I didn’t know what skills I possessed and had to choose a job that had at least a little bit of training. And while my boss was a piece of work, he did give me a somewhat stable job.

But the longer I worked here, the more that weird owl demon kept watching me with that look. That look I had grown so tired from receiving from almost any man I passed.

Being an almost pure white doe demon in a place with too much red made me stand out like a deacon. Doe demons were unheard of, they were always considered to be an angelic creature because of their pure and weak stature. Lucky me to be the first one. Almost every one would stare at me, hunger in their eyes, but the worst ones were the buck demons. They were feral. I remember when first falling I had to basically run around town and sleep in different places every night to avoid them and their incessant needs.

But the worst was during the SEASON.

I shiver at the thought as I stirred syrups together. It had been worse since the Vee’s, specifically vox, decided to do that stupid story on me. Who knew they had run out of things to talk about after the exterminations' cancellation. I remember turning down their interview offer, hoping they would just leave me alone but nope, imagine my surprise when 666 news aired a segment on me.

“Who knew doe demons even existed, especially a doe demon that clashes with the red of hell. All the bucks in hell must be going crazy. Get ready this season men, cause there is only one doe between all of you.”

That made my life so much fun, every buck in the city knew where I lived. Almost everyday I had to dodge a new buck living in my street. I hated tiptoeing around my own home. But it wasn’t like I could fight. I had no demon powers, because of course I didn’t, and had to deal with every issue by running away or having Angel Dust deal with it.

Angel Dust was probably the only man to not have fawned over my appearance. Sure, when he first came into the cafe he was flirty as all hell, but after explaining his job after one of his comments made me cry, we basically became best friends.

Everyday he would come into the coffee shop to get the same drink, even when he moved to the hotel. It was our little ritual.

“Heya toots,” my ears perked as I turned around and found the happy face of Angel.

“Hey Angel,” I smiled with my embarrassingly small canine fangs on display, “I was just finishing up your order.” I place the caramel iced late on the front counter, spiked with a little liquor on his request. Picking it up, he drank through the black straw and let out a sultry moan. I rolled my eyes as I cleaned my hands on my apron.

“You know me so well sugar,” he smiled with a wink.

Untying my apron and hanging it on the nearby hook, I quickly called out to my coworker, “going on break.” They replied with a simple wave as I went to a side table and sat across from Angel as he continued to devour his drink. “How’s it going with Husk,” I asked with a small wiggle in my eyebrows. Angel blushed, a surprisingly rare thing considering his profession as a sex worker, as he thought about the cat he told me about.

“Oh, you know, the usual. We talk, we drink, that's about it,” he went back to drinking. I stared at the spider demon with a slow blink.

“Are you flirting with him?” I asked with a tilt of my head.

“I’m always fitting darl," he sent another wink as if to support his argument.

My eye roll was nearly audible as I sighed, “he’s never going to get the hint if you don’t give him hints.”

“I try, but he takes it as my normal flirting,” he groans as he leans into one of his arms that rested on the table, “besides, he doesn’t seem all that affected by it.”

“Well you did say he was no longer bothered by your sexual comments,” I pointed out, “and coming from a guy that used to go absolutely feral as such comments to now be completely okay with it, and even quip back, I’d say he’s flirting with you.”

“Ain’t no way,” Angel backed up into his seat with raised brows, looking at me as if I was crazy.

“Hey, that's just my observation, you were the one asking for my advice.”

Angel laughed a little before leaning back onto the palm of his hand, “Me asking for relationship advice from a virgin, I must be losing my mind.” He took another sip from his drink.

My ears pinned back. Crossing my arms and turning my head upward, I huffed through my deer like nose, “You don’t know I’m a virgin.”

“Toots,” he looked at me with a raised brow, unamused as he swirled his drink with his straw, “I’m a sex worker. I know a virgin when I see one.”

“But I could have-”

“You definitely did not lose it on earth if you are anything like you are in hell,” Angel stopped me dead with my tracks making me finish with a grumble. “Speaking of which,” Angele clapped two of his hands together, “How’s the memory department coming along?”

I lean back into my seat, my stomach dropping, “Nothing. I don’t have a single memory. I’ve had nothing spark any memories, no sounds, no sights, no smells. I just feel so lost. Surely there has to be someone down here who knows who I was.”

“Well, you do kind of stick within your own bubble,” Angel pointed out, “You basically go from work to home. If you did that in life there might be a chance no one really knows who you are.”

“But I ended up in hell. I must have done something to end up here,” he gestured to the world around me with a simple wave of my hand.

“You should come to the hotel,” the sudden jump in topics was like whiplash. Blinking at Angel confused, I let him continue. “I personally don’t think you’re supposed to be down here. Think about it, white fur, pure animal connection, it just doesn't fit hell.” My fingers pick at the loose end of my top, my blunt black nails unable to tear at the poorly made fabric. “You also don't have big fangs or claws on your hands,” he gestured to his own teeth and claws as he spoke. “I’m just saying toots,” he shrugged, “You would walk into that hotel and would be sent up the second you set foot in that place.”

“I don’t know,” I hesitated, my eyes looking down toward my hands.

“Oh come on, even how you act doesn’t fit in hell,” he pointed at his fingers as he made out a list, “you haven’t had sex, you are nice to everyone, you don't swear, you haven’t killed anyone, and you have me deal with your buck problem because you hate confrontation.” He sighed, taking the last sip of his drink, “you ain’t no demon sweets.”

Sweets. Why does that word sound familiar?

“Listen, at least think about it,” Angel continued, snapping my focus back toward him. I slightly nodded my head. It made sense what he was saying. I didn’t really fit in hell, but I had to be here for a reason. Surely mistakes like this aren’t made. A sudden buzz from his phone made my ears perk before Angel lifted his phone from his pocket. “Got a film shoot in a little,” he sighed before pushing himself from the booth and stretching his arms, “later snowflake.” As he said the nickname he ruffled my white hair making me swat his hands away.

“You know I hate that name,” I grumbled, biting back a laugh from Angel's smug face.

“Exactly why I use it,” he flicks out his pink sunglasses before placing it on his face. With a wave he left the small cafe, bell ringing above. Smiling, I rolled my eyes at Angel's preposition. Me, going to the hotel to get redeemed, how trivial. Demons don’t get redeemed.

“(Y/N)!” My name made me jump onto my feet as the towering owl demon approached, “Get back to work before I do something you will regret.” Ears lowering, I gave him a soft smile as I nodded as I approached my apron. Wrapping it around my body, I went to tie my usual bow along the back, but my boss quickly pressed his chest against my back as he went to tie it, smoke laced breath hitting my ear, “Good girl.”

My fur stood on end as he walked away, my tail falling down between my legs. He will stop eventually. He’ll grow tired and leave me alone when he finds me to be no fun. A strangle tangle in my stomach filled me with a strange sense of familiarity. But I shook it off before returning to work.

Chapter Text

Dishes clashed together as I piled up the faded white dishes atop one another. My blunt nails lightly clicked against the cups as I picked them up from the wooden tabletop, revealing coffee rings on the table. Bunching my apron between my hands, I leaned over the table as I wiped up the stains on the table.

Rolling back onto my feet, I collected the pile of dishes before walking toward the back. The last customer for the day had just left, leaving me with just finishing up the dishes, storing the cash, and then I was free. Until tomorrow when I will do this all again.

With a soft sigh, I placed the dishes on the metal counter next to the sink. Normally my coworker would do the dish cleaning while I would count the cash and check the tables, but unfortunately I was left alone today as they had to go and pick up their girlfriend for a date.

Well, I wasn’t entirely alone.

My boss had insisted on staying for the closing shift, because how could he leave such a precious doe by themselves. Yeah, not creepy at all. My ears pinned back as I dunked the dishes in the warm water, soap and water drenching the fur on my arms.

Scrubbing away at the stains and dirt on the plates, the sound of splashing water echoing through the small backroom, I lifted them from the soapy water and was drying them with a nearby kitchen tea towel. When satisfied by the cleanliness of the dishes, I unplugged the sink, watching as the water swirled into the drain before I began to untie my apron.

I didn’t hear the back door open.

And I didn’t hear as the owl sinner approached me.

Cold fingers holding my hands froze me in place. I spun around, ignoring the loosening of my apron as the owls claws held onto the ribbon that once held my apron up. Staring at him, I noticed the lust filled smile that grew on his face.

“Hello my dear,” he cooed, taking a step toward me as I took one back, “you are awfully tempting. I’ve been holding back for so long, but I think a reward is in order.”

“Reward?” I struggled out as my back hit the metal counter top, the cool metal hitting my skin. I brought my hands to my side, gripping the counter top. Trapped, the sinner took another step forward, his body cornering mine as his chest nearly pressed against mine.

“Yes, a reward. I have been so good to you have I not,” he purred, eyes darkening, “I have given you a job, trained you, and have been patient for years waiting for you.” I gulp as he brought his smoke filled breathe closer to fan over my face, “Don’t you think you owe it to me.”

I forced his smokey breath from my nose with a huff, “Sorry, but I’m not that kind of demon.” I looked up at him, meeting his sharp gaze. He shook his head with a click of his tongue before he slammed his arms onto the countertop behind me, cutting me off from both sides.

“Bad answer,” he growled, “you were supposed to say ‘yes, sire’, then maybe I would have gone easy on you.” He shoved his bird leg between mine, forcing them apart. My body shivered as he brought his face down toward mine, breath brushing my lips. His hands travelled from the countertop onto my hips, his claws digging into my skin.

One of his hands left my hip, warmth seeping back into my skin as his hand let go of me. I glanced down, eyes widening as his fingers slipped into his pocket. The sound of nails on glass made my ears itch. And slowly, from the confined of his pocket, he pulled out a small pink liquid filled vile.

Love potion.

He was going to poison me with a sex drug.

The little metal lid on the bottle popped as his nail flicked the lid off. His smile widened as he began to bring it upward, his other hand moving to grip at my cheeks. He pressed the flesh in, forcing my lips to purse as he brought the vile to my mouth.

My ears flattened, my eyes sharpening as an uncontrollable reflex coursed adrenaline through my body. Without warning I tore my head away from his bruising grip as I forced myself to lean back onto the countertop, creating space between me and the man. And in one swift motion of blind action, I raised a hoved foot back before I kicked the man in his groin, causing his to whirl back in pain, releasing me.

The pink vile shattered on the floor, the pink liquid staining the tiles surface.

His hands flew to hold his crotch as he fell over onto his knees. Curses flowed freely from his lips, eyes burning red as he glared up at me.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” why was I apologizing. I shouldn’t be apologizing. He was going to hurt me. So why do I feel so bad? I shouldn’t feel this guilty about defending myself, I was a demon I shouldn’t feel anything. But I couldn't stop myself as I kept apologizing.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped before groaning, “YOU are fucking fired bitch.” He heaved, as a second wave of pain hit him, hands holding tighter as he growled, “get out of my fucking store you whore. If I see you on this side of town again I’ll fucking end you.”

My ears dropped. As he yelled at me again I scrambled out from the backroom, tossing my apron on a random table before I ran outside. Patting my pocket, I felt the edges of my phone and my singular apartment key in my pocket. I never left them anywhere in the store, not even in the breakroom, demons stole stuff all the time. I learnt that after the third time my phone was stolen.

Tears rimmed my eyes as I began the long walk home. I didn’t have a job. What was I supposed to do for money? My stomach twinged with a strangely familiar pain. Did this happen before? Did I lose my job once on earth?

I sniffled, biting the bottom of my lip. Maybe I should have just let him do what he wanted. At least I would still have a job.

I shook my head, my nose scrunching at the thought. NO. How could I think like that? Just because everyone wants to get in my pants doesn't mean I should indulge them.

Why was I so pathetic?

Thunder rumbled above me, bringing my attention toward the sky. Dark clouds covered the red sky in a deeper shade of red. And in a single blink, rain began pouring down, lighting flashing with loud screams. In a moment I was soaked, shivering from the cold.

Wrapping my arms around myself, hands rubbing up and down my biceps for any form of heat, I couldn't help but smile. Sure, this wasn’t ideal, but who doesn’t like the rain? Especially rain that isn't acidic.

“It’s not so bad,” I whispered to myself, stepping over a sinner's body as they lay foaming at the mouth, overdosed on whatever drug that had taken, “I can turn this day around. I’ll go home, search for new jobs and all will be well again.”

—

“What do you mean you’re kicking me out?” I asked, ears flicked back as the sinner’s words sunk in. The landlord was a simple lizard, sharp teeth poking out from the sides of their face, cigarette between their fingers.

“I mean you no longer live here,” he simply shrugged, “I sold the building and simply put it, you no longer live here. They are blowing up the place tomorrow. So if you do stay it’s your funeral.”

I blinked, unable to comprehend what was happening. I no longer had a home. My apartment was no longer my own.

“But where am I supposed to go?” My breathing increased with my heart, my chest burning from the pressure.

“Not my problem,” he grunted, snuffing his cigarette out on the countertop, leaving behind a circular ashen mark. Pushing past me, the grey lizard demon shoved his way through the entrance doors before he went on his merry way, not bothering to look back as he faded into the rainy night.

Clutching at my white loose top, I shuffled up the mold infested stairs toward the apartment that was no longer mine. In a mindless blur, I stuffed everything into a black duffle bag I always owned in case of emergencies like this. But that didn’t mean I expected to use it.
Glancing back toward the small room, the bed sitting next to the kitchen counter, I felt my heart twinge with fear. This place may not have been the best, but it did provide shelter. Now where was I supposed to go? I had nothing.

With a blank mind, I grabbed onto the handles of the bag and felt my body shake. Slinging it over my shoulder, I completely blacked out. Nothing was said as I left the store, my mind was black as I strolled down the street. Everything was numb. Empty.
My limps shook, eyes watering. All it took was a few blinks, a sudden flash of lightning and everything came down.

Rain poured from the sky like hail, thunder booming as lightning zapped. In an instant I was soaked, my bag doubling in weight. My clothing stuck to me, the white fabric clinging to me rounding around my chest. Balling my hands into fists, I collapsed to my knees. Slamming my fists into the ground I let out a lung wrenching scream.
What was the point?

No matter what I did, I always ended up alone.

Maybe that was the one thing I was good at. Being a single, lonely, loser.
Salty tears mixed with the fresh water from the rain. My shoulders jerked as I sobbed, my screams falling silent against the thunder. It was lucky no one was roaming the streets, because this would have been one pathetic sight.

For a few moments, I just sat, hunched in the rain, letting the world continue to beat me up. But with a sniffle and a shiver from the night's cold air, I sat up, my head tilting toward the sky.

My ears stuck to my head, my tail dropping. Sniffling, I closed my eyes as I felt the water droplets hit my face. It was oddly soothing. But the longer I sat there, the more the heat from my body slowly dissipated.

Reaching into my jeans pocket, I took out my Voxtec phone and powered on the device. And surprise, surprise, that shit was dead.

“Stupid piece of technology,” I hissed, discarding the phone with an angered throw. Forcing myself onto my shaking feet, I trudged through the storm, hands rubbing along my arms to retain some form of warmth as I searched for a pay phone.

The streets were dark, the only light coming from a few flickering street lamps. My chest twisted, unease settled in my stomach. Gulping, I pulled at the hem of my cropped top, suddenly regretting wearing such a loose and short top.

As I continued down the streets, passing more than enough alley ways for a lifetime, I felt tears swell up in my eyes once more. Not a single pay phone came into sight. Who did I piss off to have such rotten luck?

And my luck only got worse as a sudden punch to the jaw sent me flying onto the floor. Gripping my cheek, I groaned, head whipping toward the culprit. An Anubis looking demon silently stood, fist before him in a punching motion. Without a word he grabbed onto my duffle bag, clawed hands digging into the fabric material as he tore it from my shoulder.

Snapping out of my stunned state, I held onto the handle of my bag, pulling back. The Anubis demon growled, yanking the duffle bag strap right from my hands with a snap. Falling forward, my hands barely catching me, I helplessly watched as all my life's possessions were stolen. And by the time I got to my feet, the man was gone, my stuff with him.

Slowly, a distorted smile grew on my lips, a broken laugh cracking the last of my sanity.
“Oh fate, why do you hate me so much,” I giggled with a choke as my broken laugh shifted into sobs. Slumping, I helplessly dragged my feet as I forced myself forward. Despite having nothing left to live for, I didn’t exactly feel like sleeping on the sidewalk in hell, that was just asking for trouble.

As I rounded a corner, hope fluttered in my chest. Under a single lamplight, a pay phone stood. Stumbling toward the sheltered booth, I shimmied into the tiny dry corner and immediately grabbed the black telephone. Shakily, I dialled the one number I knew. And the moment that familiar click sounded in my ear I couldn't help but let out a pained sob.

“Angel, I didn’t know who else to call.”

Chapter Text

The harsh rain splattered against the umbrella Angel held above my head. I was already soaked to the bone, mascara staining my cheeks, but Angel being who he is, didn't want me to be in the rain any longer than I had to.

He was quiet when he came to get me, knowing words would just make me explode. Him just being there was enough. The drive back was oddly soothing. The soft sway of the cab on the road, the sound of raid hitting the windshield, the rumble of the engine. If I wasn't such a cold shivering mess, I would have fallen asleep with ease.

One of his arms wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled me closer to his side as he pushed the door open. I felt bad as I treaded water into the lobby of the hotel, drenching the carpet beneath my hooves, but Angle reassured me as he brought me further inside the refurbished hotel

“Fuck, what happened to you?” My ears twitched at a gruff voice, my head turning to spot a black and white cat with red features. He looked like a walking playing card. “You look like shit,” he grumbled, wiping the inside of a whisky glass clean from where he stood behind a bar.

“Husk,” Angle whispered with a hiss, “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to help,” he shrugged his eyes falling to my soaked form, his eyes wedding ever so slightly in sympathy.

“You look like a drowned rat,” a cyclops woman vaulted over the couches in the middle of the lobby, her Aussie accent shining through. She crossed her arms as she jutted her hip out to the side.

“Cherri, shut up, she’s sensitive,” Angel pressed my ears down as a loud squeal from the other side of the room made me jump, wet fur bristling. “CHARLIE! Ears.” He pointed toward where he covered my ears with the two other pair of limbs, but as a blonde woman came running down toward me, I knew she was going to cause a lot of headaches.

Angel let go of my ears as Charlie practically shoved him to the side to circle me, eyes shining with enthusiasm, “Oh my gumdrops, you're a doe! THE DOE! The one that was featured on the news. Remember Vaggi!”

“Charlie maybe give her some space,” The angel demon from over the couch recommended, but he words fell on deaf ears as Charlie bounded around me.

“You look like an angel. MAYBE YOUR ALREADY ON YOUR WAY TO BEING REDEEMED,” I pressed my ears into my head as she screamed, hands raising into the hair as she threw confetti. Her hands grabbed my shaky ones as she began to drag me further into the hotel. “We have so many fun exercises planned may we could-”

“Woah, woah, Charlie,” the safe hands of Angel landed on my shoulder stopping Charlie from pulling me further into the hotel, “She first needs a change of clothes before she can do anything.” Charlie slowly blinked, confused before her eyes cast briefly down. Her face became red as she let go of my hands and turned around.

“Oh my goodness, yes, absolutely, I’ll just go grab you your key,” she mumbled, hands over her eyes as she stumbled toward the front desk where all the room keys were held.

I tilted my head and her sudden loss of composure. What was so wrong it made her face warm? Before I could look down at my clothes to discover for myself, loud static filled my ears making my tail drop. Only one person made that sound. And when the screeching of deer noises and static melded together, from the shadows the one and only Radio Demon appeared.

His staff rested behind his back, hooked between his arms as he blankly stared around the room. His small antlers reflected under the light, contrasting drastically with his red hair and ears. Slowly, his red gaze scanned the room before landing on me. They widened.

My ears pinned back in fear as he stared at me as if I owed him money. My body shivered, but not from the cold, from fear. This man could end my life in a heartbeat, yet here he was, standing completely frozen as he stared down at me unblinking.

That was until his eyes dared glance down.

His own ears fell back as he looked away, his smile growing sharper. That's the second time that has happened? What was so wrong with my clothes that not even the Radio Demon could look at me.

I glazed down toward my white top, and froze. The rain had made it see through. The only thing protecting my dignity was a black bra hidden underneath the sheer fabric. My face flushed as I brought my arms to my chest, covering the black bra by crossing my arms over my chest.

Maybe I didn’t like the rain as much as I thought.

Charlie bounced back toward me, key in hand, and a bright smile on her face. Angel took the key for me as he patiently guided me up toward the stairs. And as My back faced the crowd of people, there was only one stare I could distinguish from the rest. And that was the stare of the radio demon.

—

My hands gripped at the side of the ceramic basin, my blunt nails digging into the side. Gentle, I brought a hand up to my purpling cheek. The skin was bruised and discoloured, and at the gentle brush of my finger tips I flinched as my muscles convulsed.

Gritting my teeth, I let out a shaky breath. My mind rushed with what ifs about what had happened less than an hour ago. My vision blurred as I let tears fall, my limbs shaking.

Why was I so weak?

Sniffling, my ear twitched as a gentle knock echoed through the small hotel room.

“Heya snowflake, we are all waiting downstairs if you want to come,” Angel whispered, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I can tell them for you.”

“No, no,” I sucked in a deep breath, “I’m coming.”

Flattening my white hair with a simple brush from my fingers, I emerged from my room, an oversized hoodie covering me over my knees. It was one of Angel's comfort hoodies, he had left it by the front door as I got cleaned up, and I was forever grateful for his friendship when I saw the clean sweater outside my door.

Patiently, he led me down the stairs, guiding me toward the two couches that surrounded a T.V. Everyone was sitting and waiting, except for the Radio Demon, who stood ominously in the corner, eyes never leaving me the moment I appeared at the top of the stairs.

Taking a seat on the far corner of the couch, Angel taking his spot between me and Husk, I nervously tucked my legs under me, trying to keep as small as possible as everyone looked at me.

“So, everyone, introduce yourselves,” Angel prompted.

“I’ll go first,” Charlie rose her hand up in the air, bouncing in her seat, “I’m Charlie, I own the hotel and I’m so freaking glad you’re here. I love your fur and the fact you’re a doe. Like that is soooo rare, because like there has never been a doe demon, like ever-”

A hand on her shoulder forced Charlie to stop ranting to take a breath, “Charlie, babe, take a breather. Hey, I’m Vaggi, Charlie's girlfriend and manager of the hotel.” The grey-haired lady nodded her head toward me, the ‘X’ over her eye making me gulp.

“Husk,” the cat grumbled, whisky bottle in hand, “bartender.”

Before I could say anything of my own greeting, a small demon scrambled up toward me, her singular eye wide, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” She blinked, eyes sparkling as she forgot to introduce herself.

Glancing toward Angel, he sighed before pointing toward her, “That’s Nifty. She’s sort of the maid though she focuses more on the war with the bugs running around this place. And that over there,” he pointed toward a short angler fish looking sinner who sat himself on the floor focusing purely on his laptop, “Is Baxter.”

I nodded before turning my attention toward Cherri, “Sup nerd, Cherri. I just live here.” She kicked her feet up on the coffee table drawing my attention toward a cup of tea that sat before me. I stared at the steaming cup of tea, confused as to when it got there. That wasn’t there before was it? I must be going crazy.

Leaning over, I carefully lifted the streaming tea toward my lips. The warm taste of my favourite type of tea made my shoulders visibly relax as I sighed. I had almost completely forgotten about the people staring at me until static filled my ears drawing me out of the peaceful moment.

“Alastor darling, pleasure to meet you,” my head snapped toward the Radio demon who stood in the corner, his head giving a small bow as he brought a hand toward his chest. Spinning his cane in his hand before hitting it against the ground, he tilted his head to the side with an alarming crack, “Now, who might you be.”

I gulped as I looked into the drink that now shook in my hands. My lips quivered, ears falling down as I took in an unsteady breath.

“(Y/N),” I mumbled, my eyes remaining low as everyone repeated my name. I felt the radio demons stare sharped onto me, making me swallow thickly.

“So,” Cherri, leaned back into her seat, “what happened that led you here?”

My fingers began to fiddle with one another as I placed the teacup down, my eyes scanning the room through my lashes, “Well, I got fired-”

“Wait, that mother fucker fired you,” Angel looked down at me with wide eyes, “Why? Even he knew you were one of the best workers he ever had.”

I swallowed heavily, my eyes misting with tears I blinked away. I stared at the floor as I avoided Angel's questioning gaze.

“He wanted to sleep with me and tried to drug me with that love potion stuff,” I whispered just loud enough for Angel to hear. But loud static filled my ears, causing me to jolt upright and meeting the radio dialled eyes of the radio demon as he glared at me. My ears flicked back causing his eyes to return to normal in a blink.

I looked toward the others to see how they reacted, but they didn’t seem bothered by the sudden wave of anger from the Radio Demon. Weren’t they afraid he would kill them?

“I’m going to kill that man,” Angel hissed but I just shook my head at him.

“It’s fine, nothing happened. That’s why I got fired,” I shrugged, before continuing my afternoon events, “Anyway, then I got to my apartment, which I was kicked out of. Then I was walking through the rain looking for a phone because mine broke in the rain, and then I got punched in the face and mugged.” More static filled my ears as I explained the bruise growing on my face, but I chose to ignore it and not look at the raging demon.

“Well, you are here now, you don’t need to worry about mugging or having a job around here,” Charlie beamed, “so tell me, How did you end up down here? The sooner we know, the sooner we can get working on redemption!” I flinched as she screamed the end of her sentence, ears ringing.

“I-um-don't-” I stopped, before I looked down at my twisting hands. Angel placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his soft smile bringing a weak smile to my own lips.

“She doesn’t remember,” he said for me, facing the group.

“What do you mean,” the Radio Demon himself asked, his toothy grin never leaving his face.

I sighed, before taking over to explain my situation, “When I- When I woke up down here, I had no memories. I couldn’t remember my time on earth, why I died or anything. The only thing I knew was my name.” I searched the varying faces that surrounded me, each showing pity but as I spared a glance at Alastor, his eyes revealed a hidden sadness. It was for no longer than a blink, but I saw it. He was upset that I lost my memories. Why? It’s not like he knew me.

“That’s awful,” Charlie sympathised, “have you had any memories since your time down here?”

I shook my head, “no. Sometimes I have dreams or like a strange sense of familiarity, but nothing has really become of it.”

“Well, I’m sure if we all work together we can help you piece together your life on earth and help you understand who you were,” Charlie smiled, showing too much teeth that it almost challenged Alastor's smile, “and you are free to stay here as long as you wish as we do so.”

I pick up my tea once more, taking in another comforting sip, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the group faded into different conversations, while I sat silently on my spot. I didn’t really feel like talking more, but it was nice to listen to the others chat about such simple things. But there was one who didn’t join in on the conversations. The Radio Demon. Now he sat on a separate chair, legs crossed elegantly, but he remained silent with his sharp teeth exposed as he stared at me for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Thick books pressed against my chest, my hands trembling as I held them painfully close. Tears fell down my eyes, my body failing to hide my desperation. A flame sparked in the fireplace, orange light casting dark shadows over a blurred man's face.

“These books,” the tall lanky man gestured toward what I held pressed to my chest, “They are not wife material. No future wife of mine will be knowledgeable on such distasteful interests.” His hands latched onto the books I held, but I didn’t let go. My fingers tightened around the books, holding them closer.

I didn’t even know what I held, all I knew is that they were important.

But I was smaller. Always smaller. Weaker. He tore the books free from me, my body falling onto hard floors. Powerless, I watched as he tossed the books into the fire. The pages ignited immediately, turning black within moments.

I scrambled to the flame, my hands shaking as I watched the words burn.

What was the book?

What was it?

Why can’t I remember?

I turned to face the man. He was cast in shadow, but those green eyes. I knew those eyes. Why can’t I remember?

My hands gripped onto my hair, pulling, tearing, ripping. I screamed, my eyes shutting tight as I scratched at my scalp. I needed to know who I was. I need to know why. Why am I so alone? Why don’t I know who I am? Why… just why.

The world around me spun as I pulled my knees to my chest. My chest tightened, my heart pounded. Clenching my teeth, I sniffled as I curled in on myself. 

“You alright my dear?” I blinked as the soothing voice, my head slowly lifting from between my knees. My breath hitched as I stared into warm brown eyes. I looked around briefly, noting how I sat in a warm cafe, coffee surrounding me and steam from my favorite brew of tea rising from the cup that rested between my hands.

The fire.

The burning of books.

It was all gone.

Now I sat in a cafe, and a blurred face man looked down at me, brown wavy hair falling as he turned his head to the side.

“A lady such as yourself should have no need to be upset,” his soft silky voice made my face warm, “What troubles you my dear.”

I didn’t know what to say but words passed my lips anyways, “I’ve been struggling to find work. I know it's uncommon for women to seek work, but I am alone and need a job to keep my home and stay fed.” More tears fell.

“Oh my dear, no need to fret,” he soothed, eyes soft. Why can’t I see his face? “How is your knowledge of books? Because I may have a solution to your problem.” He opened his hand, offering it for me to take. 

And I wanted to take it. 

But as I reached out, the soft chestnut tone of his skin faded to a sickly pale. The gentleness gone as the hand snatched at my wrist. I pulled back, my eyes turning to search from the man’s comforting brown gaze, but green stuck me like a knife. A crude smile grew on the strangers lips.

“You can’t escape me, My Sweet. I will always find you.”

—

I jolted upright, sweat clinging to my body. Hair and fur slung to my body, my mind fuzzy as I searched the darkness of my room for those green eyes. In a panic I reached for the bedside lamp, my fingers scrambling for an on switch, but in my daze, I knocked the lamp off the table. The loud shatter of glass made me recoil.

I pulled the sheets further up my body, my hand smacking my bruised cheek in the hurried motion. I winced but continued my burrowing. I had to hide. Hide. Hide.

My breathing was ragged, my heart piercing itself against my ribs, my throat suffocating me. Pulling at my hair, I couldn’t stop the flow of tears. I always cry. Why do I cry so much? What is wrong with me? 

weak.

Weak.

WEAK.

The darkness weighed down on me. It was suffocating. But slowly, a dim light filled the room. Through the thin sheets, I watched as the darkness all but vanished. Pulling the sheet over my head, I watched as a small glowing orb of light hovered before me. I carefully reached out for the light, smiling as it warmed my hand. 

I didn’t know where this sudden ball of light came from, but I was glad it was here. Sighing, I peeled the sheets from my sticky body and shuffled for the bathroom, the light following me like a little pet. Smiling at the little light orb, I pushed open my bathroom door and immediately went toward the bathroom sink. 

Turning the tap on, I quickly splashed my face with the cold water. I hissed at the sudden cold. But as I took in a deep breath, my muscles relaxed. I was fine. I was safe. Just a nightmare. Though I do wonder who those people were. The man who burnt my books and most definitely that brown eyed man. He was so charming. So familiar. 

I shook my head before staring at my reflection in the mirror. The bruise on my face pounded, the tender purple skin swollen. Brushing a light hand on the injury, I let out another deep breath. 

“I should probably get some ice on that,” I mumbled to myself. 

With the ball of light following, I silently left my room, hoodie held tight as I scampered down the stairs toward the main lobby. The main room was illuminated by a permanent light, probably for any late night guests. Entering the lit lobby, I turned toward the light that was following me, but it had vanished. 

Continuing through the lobby, I entered the shockingly small kitchen for a hotel, and opened up the freezer door. Snatching up an icepack, I pressed the cool pack against my face. The bruise felt instantly better, the steaming muscles relaxing under the cold.

With a satisfied sigh, I quietly left the kitchen, ensuring everything was left where I had found it, besides the icepack I now carried against my face. Walking past the set of couches, my eyes glanced toward the coffee table.

And I froze.

Two perfectly placed books, that I swear were not there before, rested on the small table. Glancing around the room, finding nothing but a few shadows, I approached the two books. Placing my icepack on the table, I carefully lifted the two books, reading the covers.

‘Phantom of the Opera’ was the first book that I picked up. And the second, ‘the many stitches of the medical world’.

These felt familiar. Like I knew these. Where are these the books that man burned. No, not the novel, the cover was too elaborate from what was in the fire. But this medical book. It looked and felt familiar. 

With one more look around the room, ensuring these books didn’t belong to anyone, I sat myself down on the couch, sleep evaporating from me as excitement filled my bones. Icepack completely forgotten, I swiftly opened the medical book, my eyes running along the words with such ease and familiarity. 

—

Flicking through the various racks of clothing, I let out a frustrated groan. I needed a whole new wardrobe now that mine was stolen, but that wasn’t all I had to replace. I needed a new phone, new toiletries, new everything. And I certainly didn’t have the money for it. I barely had enough money to buy a single shirt, never mind replace everything that thief stole.

Breathing through my nose, I let my anger dial down. Maybe that guy needed that stuff more than me. The fact that he didn’t try anything else says he was desperate. 

Placing back a cropped shirt I had picked up, I stuffed my hands into the loose jeans Angel had forced Husk led to me for the day. They were way too big for me, the loose fabric almost looked like a dress on me, but they were the perfect length compared to Angels clothes. It was a choice between constantly tripping, or looking malnourished. I chose the latter.

“Are you alright dear?” The similar words sent a jolt up my spine, “You seem troubled.” The static in the voice revealed who was behind me before I had to turn around. The Red Radio Demon himself, Alastor. I gulped, unsure whether he actually wanted me to talk or whether this was some sort of test. My ears flicked back making him sigh, “My dear, there’s no need to be frightened. I do not intend on harming you if that's what you’re worried about.”

“How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick?” I asked, my arms crossing over as a means to calm my racing heart, “I’m sure you’d love to steal the soul of someone down on their luck.”

“I do indeed enjoy the drama of the unfortunate, but no my darling that would be far too cruel even for me,” his smile winded as he stared down at me with his red gaze, “I’m simply asking what is troubling you? No ill intentions.” He raised his hands up, one hand open while the other remained closed around his cane.

I needed to be careful.

Not only was I dealing with a buck, but the Radio Demon of all people.

Honestly, I think a snake would have matched his personality better, but who was I to judge? He was asking what was the problem. And he did seem to hold no intent to trap me. Maybe he was not a bad person? I shouldn't have judged so fast. No one gets to decide what I think of people, I find out for myself.

So I’ll give him a chance.

While I remain a safe five foot distance from him.

“I can’t exactly afford a new wardrobe,” I shared with an air of caution. I waited for the teasing, the harsh laugh of his radio filtered voice. But nothing. He simply stood, waiting for me to continue. What a strange man. The stiffness in my shoulders lightened as I turned toward the rack of clothes before me, “I need new clothes, bathroom items, and it’s all a big mess.”

“Well then,” he picked up the shirt I had previously been holding and draped it over his arm, “Allow me to indulge you.”

I squinted at him, trying to find his game, “What’s the catch?”

“None my dear, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I left a young lady as yourself to fend for herself,” he placed a hand to his heart as he looked to the sky briefly, “why, I mother would roll in her grave at the mere thought.” A zap of something familiar hit me. I’ve heard someone say that before. But who?

And why did it send a strange feeling of safety? 

I shouldn’t even think about feeling safe around this demon, never mind trust he wouldn’t use this to trap my soul. But as he wandered the store, picking up every shirt and jean I had looked at during my time in this store, I couldn’t help but feel my fear fade. It was dangerous, but I was in hell, everything was dangerous.

Chapter Text

“So, you truly have no memory of how you ended up down here?” Alastor asked, voice low and cautious as he glanced down toward me. 

Side stepping a pool of blood that seeped into the pavement's cracks, I gave him a simple shrug. In his arms rested the abundance of clothes he insisted on buying. Anything I touched, tried on, or so much as looked at me bought. It was way too much. I had tried to sneak some of the clothes back onto the racks but his weird shadow deer always took it right off the shelves.

Speaking off, compared to Alastor's terrifying presence, the shadow was much more friendly and lively. It bounded from wall to wall, its weird hollow eyes constantly watching me. It was like a little guard dog.

“Not really,” I replied to Alastor's question with a laugh as his shadow twisted itself around my leg, “Angel says I don’t really belong here but I don’t know. Surely I did something right?” I continued to watch the shadow as it tried to catch my other leg, attempting to hold me in place from walking.

Hitting his cane on the pavement, the shadow retreated behind him before he grumbled “Insolent shadow.” Bringing my eyes up to meet his soft gaze, his usual sharp smile turned soft. “I may not agree with that spider demon in many cases, but for this, I agree. You most certainly do not belong in such a wretched place.”

“But then, how did I end up down here?”

“A mere case of confusion,” he waved his free hand around as he spoke, "Perhaps someone died at a similar time as you and your souls got confused for one another.” His eyes darkened as he thought about the other soul that could have been confused with mine. But was that even possible? Heaven seemed so organized with their exterminations and planning, surely something like a simple soul swap couldn't have happened.

“I’m not sure,” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling useless for not holding any of my clothes. A feeling that felt all too known. 

“Well, you are a doe in hell as I’m sure you know, such, shall I say, pure creatures are not common.”

“Why are there so many bucks then? Aren’t like the whole deer species itself technically seen as pure,” I asked with a raised brow.

Alastor nodded, spinning his cane before resting it behind his back, “True, but the difference is bucks are much more aggressive, and the antlers aren’t exactly blunt either.”

“I suppose,” I sigh, my eyes falling to the floor, “but even if this soul swap thing happened, that doesn’t explain my memories.”

“No recent triggers I take it,” his voice was low, soft, discouraged. 

“Well, I did find some interesting books on the coffee table this morning,” I thought back to the books that felt like I had read before, “but no memories. Just that same feeling of deja vu.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard,” Alastor commented with a simple shrug, “I find that when you search too hard for something, you never end up finding it. You should let it come naturally, make a few new memories, and wait for the old ones to slowly reveal themselves. It’s like hunting.”

“Hunting,” I tilted my head, one ear raised above the other.

“Oh a good hunt is fun,” he smiled with his sharp teeth, “but you have to be patient. Scare your prey and you struggle to find them, but wait patiently and they practically fall on your dinner plate.”

“And you hunt?”

“Deer my darling, nothing better than some fresh venison,” he hummed.

“Isn’t that like… cannibalism?” I asked while looking at his own deer features.

“Indeed my dear, and it is delectable,” he said, gaze falling forward. I blinked before poking my tongue out and shaking my head.

“That's gross.” But I didn’t really care. Cannibals, murderers, druggies, I was all so used to it now being in Hell and all. And as long as he didn’t try to have me as one of his venison meals, I didn’t really care.

“You don’t seem worried?” He noted with a raise of his brow, his sharp teeth disappearing in a closed lip smile.

“What’s there to be afraid of? I’ve met much worse men and bucks in my time in hell. As long as you don’t try to eat me, your diet and hobbies aren’t really up for me to judge.”

“And how do you know I wouldn't eat you?”

“You wouldn’t,” I shook my head before pausing to look up at him with perked ears, “would you?”

His teeth revealed themselves in a mischievous grin, “You’ll have to find out for yourself my dear.”

A moment of silence washed over us as we continued to walk down the street. It was quiet and peaceful, until we rounded the corner to a much more populated street. Sinners scrambled out of our way at the mere sight of Alastor, everyone swearing and cursing as they frantically avoided the Radio Demon.

It was amusing to say the least. How everyone jumped out of the way as if their feet were set alight. And yet here I was, walking side by side with the demon so many feared.

Sparing a glance toward the red demon, I saw his satisfied smile grow as more and more demons avoided him. All these demons, afraid to be next on his broadcast.

His Broadcast.

Since his return I hadn't even thought about tuning in on his shows anymore. They used to be my net. My routine. Sure, sometimes it was just broadcasts of sinners screaming, but sometimes it was commentary. Those were the ones worth tuning in to. It felt like home. Like something I once knew. But I forgot about them in his seven year absence. And the question stood.

Did he still do broadcasts?

“Say, Alastor,” he hummed, gaze casting down to me, “do you still do your broadcasts?”

“Indeed I do my dear. A fan?”

“Well, I was before you vanished,” I admitted, unafraid of telling the truth, “but I kind of forgot about it. You alright if we make one more stop, a radio would make my little room a little more homely.”

His smile widened, his head cracking as he twisted it to the side, “my dear, no need for that, I shall give you one of my many own.”

“I couldn’t do that,” I shook my hands, wanting to reject the offer. Taking a radio from the radio demon, I didn’t have a death wish. “They are your radios, how could I simply just take one.”

“Consider it a gift.”

“You’ve been giving me nothing but gifts.”

“Then what is one more my dear.”

This man did not take no for an answer. How stubborn.

—

Soft jazz filled my small hotel room, the delicate music making my crossed legs bounce from where I sat on my perfectly made bed. Back against the backboard and pillows resting against my back, I smiled at the tune. It reminded me of the decade I fell down here. Every corner of hell played some form of jazz or swing music. I may not have known the exact date or time I died, but one thing was for sure, I was a woman of the 1930s.

But that didn’t stop me from changing with the times. Clothes, attitudes (mainly about the open expression of sex and scandals), and technology all transformed with me. And I became almost part of the modern era. The only thing that could never change was my taste in music. Jazz was always something that strummed the strings in my heart. Especially slow jazz. It made my body all warm and fuzzy, like a hug.

Bouncing my foot to the gentle sway of the trumpets and piano, my eyes continued to scan the page of the romance novel. The book about stitches sat finished on my bedside table. Understanding how each stitch worked came to me like second nature, like something I already knew. Maybe I was a nurse when I was a human?

But that made the question of who left those books on the coffee table.

Did someone know me when I was alive and was trying to make me remember something? 

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I focused back on the novel at hand. It was truly romantic. He, a lonesome man with a deformed face, her a beauty he was obsessed with. It was driving, interesting, and strangely addictive. To find a man so obsessed yet so respectful, one could dream.

Sighing as I flipped the page, upset that the story was nearing its end, a loud explosion from the hotel lobby shook the walls of my room. My fur bristled, ears and tail jerked upright as I leapt to my feet. Tossing my book on the bed, I rushed out of my room, forgetting about closing my door as I ran down the hall toward the main stairs to the lobby.

Skidding against the red carpet, my smooth hooves making the task of stopping a lot harder than it needed to be, I grasped at the railing and scanned the lobby for damages. 

A few stray flames burned the corner of one of the couches, along with a strand of burnt carpet, the small fire busy being snuffed out by Vaggi.

“DAD,” Charlie screamed, “what did I tell you about your dramatic flammable entries!”

I blinked as I slowly climbed down the stairs only to come face to face with the king of hell himself.

“I know, I know, but I swear, I made the flames a lot smaller than last time,” Lucifer smiled a toothy grin, his hand scratching the top of his head, knocking his hat back ever so slightly as he looked around the room.

Static filled my ears as Alastor appeared from the shadows, cane tapping on the floor as he quickly snuffed the remaining fires out with his shadows. Grinding his teeth, he glared at the king of hell, eyes squinted in annoyance.

“Why is it I always find myself cleaning up after you,” Alastor hissed through sharp teeth, radio static sharpening his irritated tone, “isn’t there anyone else you could be a bother too?”

“Well, I would bother my wife but well, you know she’s… she’s busy and-” he began to stumble over his words, voice becoming quieter before his eyes landed on me, “Oh wow, you look like an angel.” He completely ignored Alastor and Charlie's annoyed comments and he quickly vanished and reappeared before me in a puff of pink smoke. Waving my hand before my nose, I lightly coughed the smoke from my lungs as Lucifer looked at me with wide sparkling eyes. 

Ears flicking up, I stared at the small man who stood before me. His eyes darted all over my face before they fell on my ears. With a squeal he reached for my ears without warning, his hands caressing my sensitive ears.

“So cute and soft,” he smiled, ignoring how I pulled my ear from his hand before grabbing my hand, “Look at these hooved nails, no claws, that's so peculiar.” Prying my hand free, I took a step back, but the small man took no hint of my discomfort. Spinning around me, he practically exploded at the sight of my small deer tail. “You even have an itty bitty tail,” he squealed as he reached out. The moment his fingers touched the fluff of my tail I jumped a squawk escaping my lips. 

Static exploded through the lobby, shadows twisting and lights flickering.

Tucking my tail between my legs I turned my back away from Lucifer. He remained hunched over looking at his hand as he processed the soft feeling of my fur. 

“Dad, what did we say about personal space,” Charlie intervened, glaring daggers at her father with crossed arms.

“Right, right, sorry,” he lifted his hands in a mock apology before pushing his hand out for me to take, “I’m Lucifer, the king of hell and all. You can call me Lu though because of your absolute cuteness.” Waving his hand in the air motioning for me to take it, I carefully gave him my hand, ready to pull away at any moment.

“(Y/N),” my name sounded strangely like a question as I spoke, my brain still fried. As he brought my hand to his lips, a soft kiss pressed against my knuckles. Harsher static buzzed in my ears. And as I pulled my hand free, I took another step back from Lucifer before I froze as my back pressed against a warm chest.

Glancing up, I stared up at Alastor as he glared at the king of hell, his eyes turned to radio dials. His smile was strained, body stiff, and annoyed growls buzzing with agitated static. He was pissed. 

Despite the shaking of the shadows, Lucifer didn’t seem even slightly deterred as he tested my name, “(Y/N). Wow, you even have such a fitting name for your looks. (Y/N).” He continued to test my name, saying it again and again in all sorts of different voices. I awkwardly smiled as he pushed his face closer to mine, continuing to scan my doe features.

Pressing further back into Alastor, I felt his chest vibrate with static, anger boiling in his very being.

“You are so much cute  than these other sinners I have to deal with,” he motioned toward Alastor behind me with a wave of his hand, “That all are super mega gross, but you are absolutely radiant. And a DOE, that’s so un-”

“Unheard of I know, I’ve heard,” I interrupt with a polite smile, “Multiple times.”

“Well, how about a drink,” he offered, smile widening, “I’d love to hear how a darling like you ended up down here.”

“Oh, that's very sweet of you,” my face scrunched at the thought of hanging around this overwhelming man any longer, “but I don’t drink.”

“And you don’t drink, how did you even end up down here with such distasteful sinners?” He glared at Alastor as he finished his sentence. I could hear Alastor’s eye twitching behind me. Glancing between Alastor and Lucifer, I gulped as their stares intensified the longer they looked at one other. I was definitely in the crossfire of some bad blood between these two.

Warmth surrounded one of my legs prompting me to glance down at my hooved feet. There, Alastor's shadow twisted around my leg, holding onto me like an angered puppy. Out of everyone here, this shadow thing was definitely my favourite.

“She’s also a virgin,” Angel shouted from across the room. MY ears flattened as dread settled in my stomach. Leaning my head to look around Alastor, I glared at the spider demon. With a smirk he raised his cocktail glass as a silent ‘you’re welcome.’ As if revealing my private life was some sort of blessing.

And as I glared at him, for the first time in my life, I wanted to strangle someone.

Chapter Text

Pressing my face into my hands, I groaned. My elbows dug into the bar’s countertop, ears flat against my head trying to hide my embarrassment. My face burned red, my entire body warm.

“I don’t get what the big deal is toots,” Angel shrugged beside me, drink in hand, “Everyone was going to find out sooner or later.”

“I would have rather later,” I mumbled into the palms of my hands. Sighing, I brushed stray strands of white hair back, allowing cool air to hit my cheeks. Placing my forearms against the cool bar, I looked down at my hands, watching as they picked at a loose piece of wood on the counter.

“Would you like a drink?” Husk asked with a raised brow.

“Just some water please,” I smiled up at him, “I meant what I said, I don’t drink.”

With a shrug, the cat grabbed a short glass before turning his back to me to fill the glass with water. The rushing of water and the clinking of ice only lasted a moment before the glass was slid between my hands. The cool glass was welcomed, the icy water cooling off my body as I took slow sips.

Angel watched me, his eyes softening, “I’m sorry if it really bothered you snowflake. I was just teasing you.”

I shook my head, flashing him a small closed lip smile, “It’s okay. You’re right after all, people would find out sooner or later. And it’s not that big of a deal, I’m just sensitive I guess.”

“That's it?” Husk asked, wings tucking back as he placed the glass he was cleaning down, “No anger, no yelling, cursing. You’re just okay with your private life being shared like that? At least hit the man.”

“Hey, who’s side are you on whiskers?” Angel placed a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended, “but he’s right. You do take a beating without fighting back. Come on, hit me.” Angel leaned his face down, waving his hands, gesturing for me to hit him.

“No, why would I do that? You didn’t mean any harm,” my ears raised as I tilted my head to the side.

“And what if he did mean harm?” The static filled voice of Alastor caught my attention. Turning in my stool, I blinked at the demon who sat next to me at the bar. Legs crossed, cane resting elegantly on his lap while his hands rested on the bar’s countertop.

“But it’s Angel, he didn’t mean it,” I waved off his comment with a flick of the wrist.

“But what if I wasn’t me,” Angel leaned back on his chair, “You need to fight back. Or at least defend yourself.”

“I’ll remind you, I kicked my boss when he tried to assault me thank you very much,” I crossed my arms with a raised head.

“I bet you said sorry,” Angel leaned his head on the palm of his hand with a raised brow. I avoided his gaze, because he was right, I did say sorry. 

“You’re fucking joking. You said sorry for defending yourself against some fucking creep?” Husk cursed, rolling his eyes with a dramatic sigh, “How have you even survived this long?”

“I just avoid people,” I shrug, bringing my water to my lips, “confrontation is not my thing. I feel mean.”

“Defending yourself is not mean, it’s a necessity,” Alastor stared down at me, his gaze never leaving me even when I wasn’t looking at him. My ears flicked down.

“But, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You’re in hell toots, everyone wants to hurt everyone,” Angel raised his hands in the air, exasperated.

“Is this a case of you not wanting to hurt someone, or the case where you’re afraid of what others might think?” Alastor tilted his head to the side, smile crooked.

I stared up at Alastor, my eyes wide. The way he phrased it words made it sound like he had experienced this before. 

“Tell me darling, when was the last time you did something for you, without worrying about what others think?” Static softened as he spoke down toward me, his ear lightly twitching to the side.

When was the last time I did something for me?

I couldn’t remember.

Had I ever done something for myself?

“I’m,” I looked down at my hands, fingers caressing the condensation off the glass, “I’m not sure.”

“Still the same,” he whispered to himself with a shake of his head. But my sensitive ears caught the breathy comment. I was confused by his words. Still the same. Did he know me when I was human? Or did he know someone similar? Surely he would have said something to me if he knew me. He knew I was trying to figure out who I was, why would he hold that from me?

“I don’t agree with creepy face like ever,” Angel spoke into his drink as it rested against his lips, “But I agree. You are way too focused on what others think that you never end up doing anything.”

“But, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I repeated, my brows furrowed together at the idea of bringing harm to anyone.

“No one is asking you to,” Alastor sighed beside me. But it wasn’t annoying, it just sounded tired. “You can do things for yourself without hurting anyone.”

“Wow, Mr Smiles here recommending hobbies that don’t hurt people? Husk, pinch me, I think I’m dreaming.”

Static rumbled from Alastor as he glared at the spider demon, “I am simply showing pity. Watching sinners crumble and burn is only entertaining if they actually burn.” Radio dialled flickered in replacement of his pupils for a moment before they returned to normal. His sharp smile returned, the edges of his smile forced as he growled with static.

My heart twisted painfully at his words.

He wasn’t being nice. He wasn’t my friend. I don’t know what I was expecting from the Radio Demon but he was so nice before. Was that all just a trick to get under my skin? So he could be entertained. Was that all I was? Entertainment?

Tears prickled my eyes but I flicked them away with the tips of my fingers, hoping no one saw.

“Ignore him toots, he’s just a jerk,” Angel huffed, arms crossing over one another over the bar’s top before placing his drink down with his other set of arms. “You shouldn’t be afraid to mess up, that's all a part of life or death or whatever.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I looked up at Angel through my wet lashes, sparing him a smile.

“So, you got any ideas on what your first new hobby might be,” I grinned before sending a teasing wink, “I could give you a few pointers for a certain activity.”

Rolling my eyes, I silently giggled. Always the flirt.

But the eruption of crackling static revealed the distaste for such jokes. 

Shadows curled around Alastor as he glared at the spider demon, teeth grinding together as he hissed, “You don’t get to be within five feet of her.”

My ears fell back as the overhead lights flickered. 

“You don’t own her freak,” Angel growled back, his freckles on his cheek turning into red eyes.

“And you shouldn’t make such indecent comments,” Alastor’s voice crackled through closed teeth like a radio.

My body lowered into the bar stool as the two demons towered over me. Their words were sharp, violent, and dangerous. All because of me. I felt my body shake. I didn’t know why but the shouting, the threats, the feeling of not having control of my own life. I knew this feeling of helplessness. 

My breathing began to quicken, but a soft paw landed on my hand breaking my mini panic.

“I’d recommend you leave before it gets worse,” The deep voice of Husk simply suggested. His face was flat, showing no emotion, but his eyes were soft, apologetic almost. And as he let go of my hand, I took his advice. 

Without a word I left. I slipped from the bar stool silently, padding up the stairs and escaping to my room.

—

My wrists were bruised, specks of blood dripping from the fresh cuts in my skin. Air struggled into my lungs, my nails digging into the hands that held onto my neck. I wanted to cry, scream, anything. But I was helpless as dark spots clouded my vision. The only thing I was was green.

Green eyes.

They stared down at me. Manic. Joyful. Pleased.

The hands around my neck tightened. I felt the bruising of my skin, the blocking of my airways, the grinding of my teeth. I dug my nails into the hands, but they didn’t falter.

‘Please.’ I begged. But my words were silent. My mouth moved, but no sound escaped. 

Then I saw it.

His smile.

It was wrong, evil, dangerous. He was enjoying this. Me dying. He wanted this.

“You think you can escape. That you can just run away?” He spat, his breath too close to my face. I winced as he pressed his weight against me, pressing me further into the floor boards. “How did I end up with a wife like you.”

I felt it. The burn of a ring on my finger. It was like the metal was burning into my flesh. I thrashed, struggled, pleaded. With a hand still wrapped around my throat, the other lowered to my top. My eyes widened. 

No.

His fingers slid through the buttons.

No.

His lips pressed against mine.

No.

I shut my eyes, my stomach dropping as the world around me shifted

When I opened my eyes, I was bare, my skin flush with the hardwood floor. I was alone. Cold. Nothing but the embers of the dead fire lighting the room. My nails dug into my skin, nearly drawing blood. Tears flowed freely, but I didn’t even register them. 

I was numb. Empty.

Snatching up bundles of my hair from my scalp. I pulled. I yanked, tore, ripped at my hair, blood trickled down my face from the pressure. Silent screams passed my lips. I wanted to be loud. To curse at the world. But I was broken.

I will always be broken.

Dragging my head along the floorboard, I stared at the door that led to the outside world. And in a blink I found myself outside. It was dark, clouds hiding away the stars and moon. The ring that once burned into my flesh discarded into the mud. 

I didn’t even look back as my feet worked on auto. 

And with another blink, I felt the sharp snap of wind against my face. Around me the world was a blur. The storm overhead cracked with lightning. The bright flashes of light provide momentary sight to the blinding darkness.

Blades of grass, the flutter of lost leaves, the wave of trees. The clicking of wheels on tracks, the huff of engines, the churning of smoke. A loud whistle whirled through the rushing air, signifying the arrival toward a city. The city I escaped to. The city I didn’t know the name of.

And with another blink, I was inside the unknown city. But not as a stranger. The smell of old books, the burning of gas lights. 

“Good morning,” that soothing voice brought my head up from where I had unknowingly been staring at a log book of sorts. The pen in my hand shook as I was met with those brown eyes.

Calm.

Charming.

Kind.

Without a single thought, a sentence that felt like routine slipped passed my ghostly lips, “Here to pick up your book?” And he smiled. But it wasn’t threatening. It was soft, sweet, and patient. I knew this man. At least I once did. Who was he? Why did he make me feel safe? 

He was dangerous.

But not to me. Others.

I knew he did something. But I just can’t remember.

“You know me so well, darling.”

My eyes snapped open. Sweat beaded my forehead, drenching the bed sheets. I breathed as I lifted my hands before my face. Squeezing my hands together softly, I sighed before placing my hands onto my stomach. 

“Darling,” I whispered to myself. It sounded so familiar. 

Groaning, I rolled onto my side, staring at the time as it slowly ticked on the analogue alarm.

12:34am

It was way too early to even consider getting out of bed.

Groaning. I flopped back onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My mind rushed through the memories over and over wondering if they were even my own. They felt too real for them to be made up. Was I really married? Forced into that sort of life? 

My eyes blinked rapidly at the memory, images flashing behind my eyelids.

I didn’t want it.

He forced me.

I-

Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on something that had been bothering me since I came to this hotel.

Why was I now getting so many memories?

Chapter Text

Tucking my legs underneath me, I stared at the page before me, my eyes scanning through the novel. But I paid little mind to the words before me. They became a blur as I lost focus on the story and delved into the new memories that had appeared last night. Ears pressed against my head I quietly sighed. Lowering my book ever so slightly, I trailed my eyes across the room to where the Radio Demon sat perfectly still in his own seat, book in his hands.

Shuffling onto my back, the plush cushions squishing as I shifted my weight, I placed the book onto my chest as I stared up toward the high ceiling. 

I wanted to do something. I had actually planned to find the library that Charlie said was in the hotel. But after last night, my stomach was twisted in uncomfortable knots that left me stiff. And the worst part is, I didn’t know whether these memories were true or all a fabrication. What if I was losing my mind?

The subtle rustle of a page turning made my ear flick toward the red demon who sat across from me. But I knew he wasn’t reading. The burning of eyes staring at me alluded to the fact that he was looking at me.

And he just kept staring.

And staring.

Huffing through my nose, I rolled my head to the side to face him with a scowl, “What?”

“Nothing my dear,” the deer demon shrugged, “but you do seem to be deep in thought? Care to share?”

“Not really,” I turned my head away, folding my arms over my chest.

“Come now darling, it is not good to keep thoughts all to yourself. It always leads to a moment of unnecessary drama,” He rose from his seat, book vanishing into the darkness. Swinging his cane to rest behind his back, it took three steps before he was standing at the edge of the couch. His shadow cast over me, blocking my view of the ceiling. Tilting his head down, he stared at me with a slow blink. 

“I thought you liked drama,” I mumbled, turning my head to the side trying to ignore him.

“Yes well, consider this an apology for my behaviour yesterday. I seemed to have overwhelmed you.”

“Either way, you’d just laugh or criticize or whatever,” I whispered, my voice cracking, “so it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh come now,” he smiled before taking a step back from my head, his shadow disappearing, "Surely you don’t think me that cruel. I don’t kick doe’s while they're down.” The couch dipped by my feet, prompting me to briefly lift my head. Alastor sat smiling, his gaze never leaving me as he crossed his legs over one another.

“Forgive me then for not trusting that,” I flopped back down onto the soft couch, “I’ve heard your broadcasts. You kick everyone.”

“Oh stop being difficult.”

“Difficult? DIFFICULT? You know what's difficult, not knowing who you were when you were alive and only getting bits and pieces through stupid dreams that you don’t even know is real and possibly discovering that you were married to an abusive jerk and had to run away to start a new life away from him only to find someone out there who may have cared for you but you can’t remember their stupid face,” I snapped. I never got angry. I was always calm, collected, kind. But as tears swelled in my eyes, I swung my legs over the couch and got onto my hoved feet in seconds. With an irritated twitch of my tail I left, the room, book forgotten on the couch as I rushed up the stairs not sparing a second glance toward the radio demon.

Pushing past the few sinners that actually stayed in the hotel, and ignoring Angel as he lifted a hand in greeting. I slammed my door shut, locking myself in my room. The nerve of that demon. Saying I’m being difficult. He has no idea what it's like not to know who you are. He’s probably down there right now having a good laugh out of my little rage moment.

Spinning around, I paced my room, my body burning. I paced and paced. My feet practically run indents into the floor. But as I spun around once more, walking across the floor, a small spider-like bug rushed across the floor. Its red little eyes stared up at me with a slow blink and I screamed. 

Rearing back, my foot tangled in the mat that rested on the floor, my body falling and slamming face first into the floor. Groaning, I pressed a hand against my nose. Feeling it pulse between my fingers, I pushed myself onto my knees. Warmth liquid soaked my hands causing me to press harder against my nose. Hissing at the pain, I slowly peeled my hand from my face only to freeze.

Gold.

Shining, shimmering, gold blood coated my hand.

No.

I jumped to my feet rushing toward my bathroom. Flicking on the lights, I stared at my reflection. There from my small nose a line of golden blood dribbled down my face. I blinked. Swiping the blood up with two fingers, I stared at the warm golden liquid.

My body trembled. 

Only Angels bleed in gold.

—

My legs shook as I stood before Lucifer's door. He had a whole floor to himself, which Charlie happily led me to without any questions. She probably thought I wanted to speak about his lack of boundaries when we first met and most likely thought it was a good idea to talk about it. But I was here for completely different business.

My golden blood.

I had to know what it meant.

My hands shook as I rose it toward the door, my eyes glancing over the written sign warning for Alastor to stay away. Swallowing a heavy gulp, I lightly knocked on the door.

The moment I knocked, a lot of panicked rustling occurred behind the door. There was tossing, scrambling, moving furniture.

“One moment,” Lucifer called out, his voice spilling out small curses as he approached the door. With a click, he opened the door. He paused for a moment upon seeing me then happily smiled before stepping out of the way to let me into his room. “Hello, I wasn’t expecting company. Let alone yours, what a pleasant surprise,” He smiled all too wide, “I just want to say I am sorry about when we first met. It was all too exciting to meet such an extraordinary sinner such as yourself.” 

With a wave of your hand, I silently assured him it was fine as I entered his room. It was a lot bigger than mine, yet felt incredibly small considering every single corner of the place was filled with rubber ducks. They were piled unceremoniously atop one another, each adorning their own outfits. Top hats, suits, lilos. It was very strange. Then there were the posters that peeked out from behind the ducks that hung along the pink walls. They were of famous broadway shows and novels, but all duck themed. And the pile of CD’s all focused around ducks. 

This man likes his ducks.

Shaking my head, ignoring the assault on my eyes, I returned my focus toward Lucifer as he picked up one of the many ducks, eyes shining in adoration.

“Lucifer, sir, I have a little-”

“Ah, I told you to call me Lu. Now, what is it I can help you with?” He interrupted with a wave of his hand before focusing on me. 

“Oh, right yeah,” I cleared my throat, “It’s a bit of a strange question but what would it mean if a normal sinner, like I don’t know maybe myself, was to bleed golden blood?”

Scratching the bottom of his chin, his eyes sharpened for a moment, “That is a strange question,” he clapped his hands together before returning to his goofy personality, “but what a curious question. Honestly, it most likely means that the sinner was once an Angel and became fallen.”

“Are there many fallen angels?” I tilted my head, tail falling between my legs as my mind raced. Oh my goodness, I was an angel? No, no, I don’t know anything yet. Maybe I ate something that turned my blood golden.

“Nope. Only me,” Lucifer pointed toward himself, “Its basically impossible for human souls to be cast down here when they are angels, it's unheard of.”

“But you fell?”

“Aw sweetie, I’m not a human soul.”

I nodded, my mind spinning. My eyes fell to my hoved feet as the world around me became nothing but a blinding fuzz. If I was an angel it explained everything. My doe form, the white fur and hair, the golden blood.

“I do need to ask though, why the strange question?” Lucifer brought my attention back toward him, watching him raise a brow.

I wanted to lie, say I made up the question. But he could help me to figure out everything. Discover why I forgot my life. Because there was a chance Heaven may be the reason.

“I bleed gold,” I whispered, before lifting my hand and opening my palm to reveal the gold stains that seeped into my fur.

“No way,” he snatched onto my hand and raised it to his face, staring at it, “This isn’t possible. They never send winners down here. But if you are one, where are your wings?” I blink at him confused. Wings? From the moment I fell down here I never had wings. So I give him a shrug, confused. “Lift your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” I pulled my hand free, eyes widening at the random comment.

“Sorry that probably sounded weird,” he sighed before explaining himself, “if you had wings once upon a time, there’s a chance you have markings on your back from where they once were. But I can only look for scars if you lift your shirt.”

It was still nerve wrecking, but it made sense. What if I lost my wings somehow when I fell, there would be scars on my back. And I never really bothered to check my back whenever I got changed because there was nothing to see. Or at least I thought there wasn’t.

So with a timid nod, I let him walk toward my back. And carefully, his claws hands held onto my shirt before lifting the loose clothing up.

I shivered, hating the feeling of some strange dude looking at my back and exposing the back of my bra. But it wasn’t like I had a choice, I needed to know what happened. And if this was the only way to find out, so be it.

His eyes burned through my skin as he stared at my back. Carefully, he dragged a claw hand down my back, tracing the edge of my spine making my body go rigid at the cold contact.

“Fascinating,” he whispered, “you were once an angel. But what are you doing down here now?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping my front cover with my shirt as Lucifer pulled the back of my shirt more up so he could examine the supposed scars on my back.

“Your wings were taken from you. And somehow you were sent down here. You’re not supposed to be in Hell.”

I blinked and my legs began to shake. I’m a mistake. I’m not supposed to be in Hell. But then why was I here? Did I do something wrong? But surely others would have fallen too. And if I did do something wrong, what was it that caused the Heavens to cast me out.

“(Y/N), darling,” My heard jerked upright at the call of Alastor's voice from behind the front door, “Charlie said you were here hanging out with this absolutely idiotic man. Now I know you’re upset with me but I insist-” The door knob twisted unlocking the door with a click. And the moment the door opened Alastor's voice froze as he stared at the scene before him.

Lucifer lifting my shirt and staring at my bare back while I simply stared at the floor like a fool.

I helplessly blinked as Alastor's gaze darkened. The world felt like it was shaking.

Through clenched teeth and a static voice, Alastor hissed, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Chapter Text

“You’re a what?” Static buzzed through the room, red eyes never leaving the short demon except to briefly glance down at me.

“She is an angel,” Lucifer spoke for me, “she has golden blood.”

I sat on the edge of Lucifers bed, my legs crossed over one another as I stared at the two demons. Alastor was absolutely raging, his sharp smile and the static emanating from his body telling enough of his anger. While Lucifer was oddly calm considering he just found out I was once an angel. Then there was me. I wasn’t exactly sure what to think. The idea of being an angel cast down to hell is a crazy concept.

Hell, I was the first human soul to be fallen.

Pressing my hands together in my lap, I stared down at my hands, watching them twitch. My stomach twisted with nerves. What would happen when the rest of hell found out I was an angel? Surely this won’t stay quiet forever.

As if reading my mind, Alastor hit his cane against the floor as he leaned on it, “no one else can know about this. Hell will go feral and you will be the most wanted sinner in all of hell. Have you told anyone else.”

Silently, I shook my head before meeting Alastor's gaze. It was strangely soft, worried. And that made me worry. He’s the radio demon, why is he worried?

“It’s not just that she is an angel, I have a theory that because she is an angel cast down to hell, they erased her memories,” Lucifer pondered, crossing his arms over as he looked toward me.

I sunk my head down as I whispered, “would they do that?”

“Heaven is strict on their security. They must have thought something was wrong or thought you dangerous, rid you of your memories so you're not a security risk and sent you down here,” I sighed as Lucifer spoke. 

Turning ever so slightly to face Alastor once more, I watched as his brows furrowed together. His smile never dropped, but it was tight. His ear flicked as he stared down at me. Slowly, his mouth opened, about to say something before Charlie burst through the door. 

We all faced her, my ears falling back as she screamed. She is too loud. 

“I just came up with a brilliant exercise!” She sang before jumping into the room. Before I could adjust to her noise level, she grabbed onto my wrists and pulled me to my feet before spinning me around. “And I think you’re going to love it,” she smiled at me as the world spun. Letting me go, I stumbled to a stop, legs shaking. Hands pressed against her cheeks, she continued to sway on her feet, smile wider than Alastor’s.

Blinking at her, I glanced up toward Alastor as a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. Whatever she had planned, I already wanted to leave.

—

This was her idea.

The club.

With all its strobing lights, head pounding music, sweaty bodies. This was not my idea of fun. Everyone bumping into you, people looking where they shouldn’t, the smell of alcohol and smoke. I scrunched my nose as I kept to my corner with Alastor standing barely an inch from me.

Since learning that I was an angel and how I lost my memories, he barely let me out of his sight or reach. It was strange seeing this notoriously terrifying demon be so protective. And dare I say, it felt kind of nice to be under his watch. 

Especially with his little shadow wrapping itself around my leg.

It was a grounding weight. Like a piece of armour. 

Keeping my ears pressed back and tail lowered, I shuffled slightly closer to Alastor as a demon came a bit to close with his dancing. A singular growl from Alastor sent the sinner running to the other side of the club.

Watching the sinner scramble away through the crowd, a strange twinge in my stomach sent my gaze grazing over the crowd. It was the usual sum of sinners, some based on animals, mythical creatures, some objects. The usual bunch. But among the alcohol and drug dazed sinners, my blood froze. The cold yellow stare of a black wolf sinner stared directly at me, drool dripping from his mouth like he was looking at a piece of meat.

It was unnatural. Unnerving. 

But I knew that stare.

Something about the way the wolf stared at me felt familiar. That sense of predator staring at prey. I knew that wolf. I just couldn't place where.

Taking an instinctual step toward Alastor, my body stiffened as I bumped into his side. Meeting his gaze, I shuffled back.

“Sorry,” I muttered, while returning my focus toward the wolf. But he was gone. My ears shot up, head swiveling as I searched the crowd for the wolf. There was no sign of him. No yellow eyes, no black fur, just the jumping and partying crowd.

“You alright?” Alastor asked, turning to follow my panicked searching. 

Maybe the wolf was in my head. A figment of my tired imagination. I had just been told I’m an angel, maybe this was just my imagination playing up on my fears of being hunted.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I forced a smile as I faced Alastor, “I just thought I saw someone.”

Silently nodding, he returned to his guarding, eyes trained toward the crowd surrounding me. 

“Heya toots,” the comforting voice of Angel called through the sea of sinners. Using his four arms he forced his way past everyone as he made his way toward me, his own drink in hand. “Having fun?” he asked, swirling his drink.

“Not really, you know these aren’t really my scenes,” I sheepishly smiled, crossing my arms over my chest. Angel shot me a sympathetic smile before leaning back against the wall beside me.

“Fair enough. It took me a while myself to like going to clubs like this,” he gestured toward the place with one of his hands. Taking a swig of his drink, he flashed me a kind smile, “the best advice I can give is to just relax. Listen to the music, dance a little. It’s not all that bad once you get into it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get into it.”

“You could always leave snowflakes,” Angel suggested, finishing his drink in one singular gulp, “the hotel ain’t too far.”

“I couldn’t do that to Charlie, she asked me to come.”

“She asked her shadow to come tonight,” Angel exaggerated, "don't stay just because of her. Remember, do things for yourself once in a while. If you’d rather be home reading a book, then do that. Even Mr.Creepy Voice agrees.” Static rumbled beside me as the name, but Alastor never disagreed. With a soft pat on my shoulder, Angel returned to the crowd. I watched as he vanished.

I was supposed to be doing things for myself. And I would rather be at home right now. Maybe I could ask Alastor to walk me home.

But as I turned toward the red deer, he was gone. My heart rate picked up, stomach twisting painfully as bile rose. I was alone. Digging my blunt nails into my biceps, I pressed myself further into the wall as the crowd pushed closer toward me. And I saw it again. A flash of those yellow eyes.

Sweat beaded my forehead. Ears flat, tail tucked, I shuffled passed the various sinners. Alastor or no Alastor, I was going home. Slipping through the crowd, I accidentally bumped into a random sinner. With a hiss, they tossed their drink on me, drenching my clothing with the red of their cocktail. The smell of alcohol overwhelmed my nose, making me scrunch my nose.

Ignoring the drip of alcohol from my clothing and fur, I continued to force my way through the crowd.

The moment I escaped the confines of the club, it was like a breath of fresh air. Or as fresh as cigarette and smog filled air can get. Wrapping my arms tighter around myself, I began the short trek back toward the hotel. I dissociated, my mind too rushed and panicked to pay attention to any catcall or swear thrown my way. I just walked.

Light flickered overhead. Blood and other bodily fluids dripped through pavement cracks. Sinners lay passed out in alleyways. And footsteps that were not my own echoed behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder as inconspicuous as I could, my heart drummed in my chest. The wolf. He was following, fangs peaking past his muzzle, drool dribbling down his chin. But as he caught sight of my eyes, his pupils simply sharpened as his pacing picked up. His tongue licked his lips as if readying for a meal.

Turning the street corner, I prayed to find myself on a busy street. But I was delved into darkness. I took a turn too soon. I was in an alleyway. And as I turned around, I froze as the wolf stood at the entrance. I was cornered.

“Well, if it isn’t a lost little doe,” he growled, a twisted smile growing on his face, “oh how I missed you, my sweet.” Those two words. MY SWEET. It felt like the world constricted around me. The invisible chains, the burning of my ring finger. It was HIM.

In a flash, fangs rushed toward me. Lifting my arm before my face, I screamed as sharp white teeth dug into my skin. Golden blood spewed from my arm, staining the floor in its bright shade. Tearing into my flesh, claws found their way into my stomach, digging past the fabric of my wet clothes. Pulling at my arm, it took a swing from my free arm to the face for HIM to let me go.

Pain blinded my vision as I stumbled back, blood spewing from my arm and stomach.

Licking the golden liquid on his lips, he purred with a growl, “Angel blood. OH how sweet you are.” Licking the blood from his paws, his pupils nearly vanished from how small they became. 

Lunging at me, wind escaped my lungs as I was forced to the floor. I couldn’t scream, shout, anything. My voice grew silent as growling teeth bared themselves before my face. My arms flailed, but two claws hands dug into my wrists, forcing my hands beside my head. I tried to kick, but a single press of his leg forced my legs down.

With a glint of hunger behind his eyes, he lowered his drooling mouth close to my ear. Hot breath rushed through my ear canal as he breathed. And he breathed loud. Laboured. And it threw me back into my home on earth. The phone, the breathing, the feeling of being completely defenceless. He had hunted me then, he was hunting me now.

The piercing of his nails into my wrist tore me back toward the moment. Is this how it always was? Me the prey, HIM the predator.

“I am so very hungry,” he whispered, “Won’t you indulge me.” I wasn’t even able to struggle as his teeth tore into my ear. Fangs dug into the sensitive flesh, piercing the thin muscle of my deer ears. And with a sickening chomp, he tore his mouth away bringing half my ear with his mouth. Blood poured, screams  echoed, tears fell.

Shadows moved without remorse as they came alive, tearing the wolf off from me. I curled in on myself, bringing my hands to my torn ear. I pressed the bleeding ear into my skull. I struggled to breathe, the pain was too much. 

Gold pooled around me on the floor. It soaked into my fur, staining my white fur with its bright colour. 

“How fucking DARE you,” The static voice of Alastor erupted. Green glowed around his body, his antlers growing, teeth sharpening on his strained smile. His eyes were pitch black making the red radio dials in the centre seem all the more threatening. “I am going to tear your fucking soul apart.” 

The wolf growled from where he was held by shadows, his predatory gaze never backing down. A sudden and soft warmth wrapped around me, my tense muscles relaxing despite the pain at the feeling. After a slow blink, I found myself staring at Alastor's shadow. It didn’t smile. I have never seen his shadow not smile.

I wanted to smile to cheer it up. But the throbbing of my head made me shut my eyes tightly as I groaned in pain.

Strained static mixed with the muffled call of an elk. As I fluttered my eyes opened, I stared at the shadow as it called for its owner's attention. Alastor turned around, gaze sharp and needing bloodshed. But the moment he saw me, the green glow, the shadows they all vanished.

The wolf scrambled away. But he was no longer the priority as Alastor rushed toward me.

His hands carefully wrapped themselves behind my back and under my legs. Holding me close to his chest, with a silent hiss from him, I mumbled about him ruining his suit with my golden blood. But when he didn’t reply, I couldn't help but look up at him as his shadows engulfed us.

The panic.

The fear.

I knew those eyes.

I knew him.

Alastor?

Chapter Text

Darkness rolled off him with every breath. The smell of angelic blood lingered in his flared nostrils, the stain of gold embroidered in his discarded red coat. Ear twitching in irritation, he remained stationary in his armchair that sat in the corner of his room.

Legs crossed over one another, he intertwined his hands together before leaning forward, temporarily ruining his perfect posture as he stared at the lump that laid in his own bed. The red duvet rose and fell with each shuddering breath she made. They were weak, shallow, but still there. And for now, that was enough to ease his tension. 

How could he have let it happen again. She nearly died in his arms once more, and this time it would have been for all eternity. He was supposed to be watching her, protecting her. He had failed. If it wasn’t for that stupid buck from across the club eyeing her like a piece of candy, if he just didn’t let his jelo- attentive behaviour control him, none of this would have happened. He should have noticed the wolf. Noticed her greatest danger.

Digging his claws into the armchair, piercing the fabric with alarming ease, Alastor pushed himself onto his feet. His hands balled into fists, antlers growing as he thought back to that stupid man. That wolf. How fitting he is the opposite to her. Didn’t he see it. How he was never meant to have her. 

She was mine.

She is mine.

My doe.

She just has to see how much I care.

Gritting my teeth, a smile painfully plastered on my face. I rounded the bed, eyes trailing her sleeping form. Bandages wrapped her forearm as well as her half eaten ear. The sight of the golden hue seeping through the white fabric made him bite back static. He will hunt down that wolf until he begs for mercy.

But that was the problem.

Despite being the strongest sinner in hell, somehow that Wolf had always avoided him. He had searched for the man that killed her since falling into hell. He had killed so many that made him think of her perpetrator. But yet, he always found a way to hide. But not anymore. Before he thought he had time. Thought she was safe in heaven. But now she was in danger. And sleep was not something he was willing to indulge in until that wolf perished by his own very claw.

Huffing through his nose, Alastor brushed the back of his claw against her face, pushing a few strands of loose hair behind her uninjured ear.

He will pay for even looking at her.

Taking back his hand from her soft warm skin, Alastor retreated into his shadows so as to not disturb her rest with his footsteps. Within a few dark flashes, he reformed in his home's kitchen. It was an exact replica of his home on earth, down to the bayou that surrounded his home. But just walk beyond the ferns, you get his room door that led to the hotel’s many hallways. 

As long as she stayed within his domain, she would be safe from anyone. He had to keep her here, keep her hidden from the dangers of hell. Sure, killing the wolf would keep her safe, but hell was not made for a soul like hers. She would never be truly safe without him. She needed him. And he would give her anything to keep her within the safety of his slutches.

Shoes clicking against the tiled floor, Alastor clicked his fingers together, summoning a variety of ingredients needed to make his mothers signature dish. While resting she needed food. Sure, he could just snap his fingers and have his signature jambalaya be finished. But where was the flare, the passion? That wouldn’t do for his darling doe.

So with a neat rolling up of his sleeves, he got to work.

—

Soft footsteps on wooden stairs made Alastor’s ear twitch. Raising his head from the two perfectly filled bowls, he caught sight of her. Each step was shaky, uneven as she stumbled down the staircase. Her soft, delicate touch slides down the wall beside her for stability. 

“Darling,” Alastor chided as he quickly placed the two filled bowls of food on the dining table, “You should have stayed in bed.” Briskly walking toward her to help her down the remaining steps, he guided her toward the table. Ensuring her comfort in her seat, he sat himself down on the other side of the table.

“I didn’t want to impose,” she whispered weakly, her voice hoarse and tired.

“You never impose dear,” his red eyes trailed along the bandages on her arm as she fetched for her fork. 

Taking a small bite of her food, she let out a pleased hum, the soft smile on her face causing those strange waves of warmth to rush through his body. That's why he needed to protect her. Only she could make him feel something so different. So wild. Even in death he was just a worshiper at an altar of gold.

“This is delicious,” She took another bite, filling her cheeks like a chipmunk. How cute.

“Made it myself my dear,” her ears perked at his words, amazement shining within her beautiful eyes. But her eyes could only distract him for a moment before he caught sight of her ear. Torn, ruined, hurt. Rage bubbled in his stomach, which he had to swallow so as to not scare her. She had been through enough without him tearing the place apart.

“How are you feeling?” He found himself asking, brows furrowed showing his concern despite his sharp smile.

With a small sigh, her injured ear flicked, “I’ve been better. But honestly, I’ve had worse.” Before radio dials could even flicker in his eyes and static erupt and demand who hurt her, she looked up at him with those wide, doe-like eyes as she said, “Why didn’t you say anything.”

She placed her fork on the table, her half eaten food growing cold as she focused on him entirely. But he simply stared at her. Because she remembered something. And from the look in her eyes, Alastor knew what she remembered. She remembered him.

“I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admitted, “I had spent so long on earth trying to get you to open up to me, I was… afraid if I threw everything at you at once you would crumble. That you would never look at me the same because, well darling, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am no saint. I’m no angel.”

“Angel’s are overrated,” she let out a singular airy laugh, “besides, I knew of your hobbies.” He perked up, eyes wide because when did she find out. “I don’t know how long I knew, a lot of my memories are still a bit fuzzy, but I remember knowing that night, when I died, who you were… and I didn’t care. You were still you, that charming man who always came to collect his books from the store, you just saw the world a bit differently.”

“You an enigma my dear,” Alastor smiled. A true smile. Because she knew what he was, and she didn’t care. How strange for such an angel to not judge him, to still feel safe around a psychopath. 

Pushing his seat back, the sound of wood scraping against the tile, Alastor got to his feet. Opening his hand, he offered his outstretched hand to her. The various radios within his home flicked to life as they switched to a radio station. Music wrapped around the small downstairs of his home as he waited for her to take his hand.

And he did.

Still being mindful of her injuries, he carefully pulled her close to his chest as he gently swayed with her to the music. God, how he had been wanting to dance with her. All his time on earth, he had wanted to drag her to the dance floor to show the world who she belongs to. But he never got the chance. And while there was no audience to show you off to, this was more than enough to get his heart racing dangerously. A part of him he thought dead the day you died in his arms. But here you were, alive and swaying with his to the music. Head on his chest, arms slung up around his shoulders while his hands held her waist. 

It was perfect.

Placing his chin between her ears, making sure he was a safe distance from the injured one, he let out a sigh and for the first time in his life, he melted. Oh how he had wanted- needed her in his arms. It was like something he couldn't explain. But something he felt.

“You know how long I had wanted to dance with you. It’s why I even bothered to go to that party.”

“Party?” Her head raised from his chest, tilted ever so slightly to one side as she squinted up at him confused. It was a pathetic sight, but it made Alastor’s chest tighten as his brain stuttered for a moment. 

“Nothing for you to worry about my dear,” he shrugged as he slowly spun them in a circle. It seemed she still had blank memories. But no matter, he’d just make new memories, remind her of what she truly was to him. And this time, he wouldn’t let her go. She’d be his until the end of time.

With a genuine smile growing on his lips, they continued their little dance in the confines of the kitchen, the warmth from the fireplace in the living room seeping into the kitchen. But before he could even think about making new memories with her, first thing first;

Rest.