Summary: After the hotel’s valentine’s day party, Alastor gets a little drunk. Who knows what secrets will be revealed when the Radio Demon gets a little too much whiskey?
A/n: I was very inspired by the valentine’s outfits from Vivzie, so everyone’s outfits here are (modest, going out, of course) versions of the designs. (I was also inspired by @zonxter's amazing work here) Also, this is my first time writing a kiss scene, so please let me know if it's ok! :)
You sighed, picking up yet another plastic party cup. After a long day of setting up the hotel for Charlie’s Valentine’s Day party, the last thing you wanted to do was clean up the mess the guests had made. However, one look into Charlie’s puppy-dog eyes convinced you to ignore your oncoming headache and help.
“Another, please, Husker!” Alastor, the only one not helping, sat on the couch in the lobby, surrounded by a few to many shot glasses. Husk rolled his eyes from the bar, but dutifully poured another and brought it over to Al. You sighed. It wasn’t fair that you were working your ass off while the Radio Demon just sat around, was it?
Making your way over to the couch where he sat, you kept picking up streamers in various shades of pink and red and stuffing them into the black trash bag you carried. As you drew closer to Alastor, you could tell just how drunk he was. Chuckling to himself about seemingly nothing, his bowtie was completely undone, just hanging around his neck, and both his feet were up on the couch. One knee crossed over the other with his hands draped across his chest, this was possibly the least put-together you’d ever seen him. His eyes lazily drifted up to yours, a tipsy blush across his cheeks. “Why, hello, dear!” he said, radio filter gone, almost slurring his words together. “You wouldn’t mind getting me another one of these, would you?” he asked, raising the now-empty shot glass in his hand. You just rolled your eyes and moved on, clearing more party cups off the bar. You didn’t really know why he let his demeanor slip so much, especially since everyone was still out and about, but you decided it was better not to ask.
Alastor huffed like a child, then called out to Husk, who poured another one. Alastor groggily grabbed it off the bar with his shadowy tentacles.
Sitting at the bar, you subtly glanced over at him. Alastor looked different today— a nice different. Instead of his usual suit, the one he wore now had only black and dark red. Heart shaped buttons and small stitched x’s adorned his cuffs and vest front. You blushed slightly; vests were your weak spot. Alastor caught your eyes, and your blush only deepened as his smirk grew. Breaking his stare, you returned your gaze to the bar in front of you, suddenly fascinated with the etchings in the wood.
“Hey, (Y/N)! Could I have some help over here?” Charlie called from the other side of the lobby.
“Sure,” you called back, getting up from the barstool.
About an hour later, the lobby was finally back to looking normal. Charlie and Vaggie had just gone up to bed, soon followed by Angel, Lucifer, Niffty, and, finally, Husk. You finished up in the kitchen, then went out one last time to check on Alastor. He was still on the couch, even more disheveled than before. Over half a dozen shot glasses sat on the table in front of him. You sighed, before going over to pick them up. Alastor looked up, as if just now registering your presence. “Ah, darling! Won’t you pour me just one more of those?” he asked, eyes half-lidded.
You firmly shook your head. “No, Alastor. You’ve had enough. I don’t know what got into you tonight, but no more of it. I’m cutting you off.”
Alastor practically pouted (yet somehow remained smiling). “No, dear. Please get me another, or I will.”
You turned to face him, looking down to where he was splayed across the couch, legs now wide open. “No! No more! You’re going to be too drunk to get up to your room if you have more.”
Alastor growled, his eyes flashing into radio dials. He grabbed at your hands, pulling you toward him until you fell forward. You flushed; partly out of anger (and partly because you were practically sitting in his lap). “And what, my dear, gives you the jurisdiction to preside over me, to make that decision for me? Hmm?”
Still flushed, you didn’t really know what to say. (Even when drunk, Alastor had such a way with words). “I, uh…” You decided to just be honest. “I don’t want to see you regret anything you might do tonight.”
He smiled, pulling you even closer. Your face was inches from his, your stomach pressed against his. “Oh, dear… I would never regret anything I did with you.”
You turned as red as his hair. “I’m not so sure about that,” you backed up, pulling out of his grasp. “You’ve never even held my hand before, and now you’re pulling me into your lap? I don’t think that’s something that you would do if you were sober.”
Alastor’s smile turned almost sad. “Or maybe it’s just something I’ve never been brave enough to do,” he said quietly.
“...I… I’m sorry?” you whispered. There was no way that Alastor had admitted that. But, if he really had… then maybe your feelings toward him were reciprocated? No, of course not, you shook the thought from your head.
He looked down, sighed, and then looked back at you. “Forgive me, dear,” he breathed.
Before you had a chance to ask him what he was talking about, Alastor had pulled you back to his lap, crashing his lips against yours.
You froze. As much as you’d dreamed of this moment, you couldn’t rightfully continue. It would be taking advantage of the situation. Fighting against every urge to kiss him back, you pulled away.
Alastor looked surprised, then sad, then guilty. “I… I’m so sorry,” he sighed, dropping your hands.
Rushing to fix your mistake, you started babbling. “No, no, it’s not that, it’s just…” you struggled to find the right words. “I can’t. Not while you’re like this. Not when you can't make decidions, on weather or not you want to do this."
Alastor blinked, seeming out of the alcohol trance for a moment. His eyes softened, gazing lovingly into yours. “Oh, my dear… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”
You were taken aback. “I… what?”
“Sweetheart, ever since you arrived at this hotel, I’ve wanted to kiss you more than anything. I thought that today, on the day dedicated to love…” he laughed at this, gesturing around at the hotel, still minimally decorated. “...it might be the perfect opportunity to tell you. Ah, but alas…” he giggled, no doubt from the whiskey, “...Alas, it seems that I couldn’t have done it without a good ol’ glass of rye!”
“Um… really?” you whispered, not wanting to get your hopes up. "Not about the rye part, the... the other part?"
“Really and truly!” He smiled. Taking your hands again (softer, this time), he slowly pulled you back on his lap so that you now straddled him. Eyes never breaking from yours until they closed, his mouth gently found yours again. Running his silver tongue across your bottom lip, he smiled into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, locked on yours. You breathed in a gasp as his tongue found its way into your mouth. Oh, he tasted so sweet— like strong rye and vanilla. The kiss was soft, not what you’d imagined from Alastor. It was a pleasant surprise, though— a very pleasant surprise.
The kiss deepened, as Alastor’s hand came up to the back of your neck. You shifted your hips forward, hands gripped tightly to his coat lapels. Alastor softly moaned into the kiss, and you matched it with a whine; in perfect harmony.
Gasping, you both came up for air. Staring into his eyes, a love-struck smile played across your face. Alastor goofily grinned. “I love you, (Y/N).”
You blushed as you stood, pulling Alastor with you. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that tomorrow, buddy.” Guiding him into the elevator, you pressed the button to the top floor.
“I will!” he assured you. Then, after a few moments, “Won’t you stay the night?”
Smiling, you held tighter onto his arm. “Not tonight, Al. Let’s wait until you’re not… intoxicated.”
He grinned as you led him out of the elevator to his room. “Really?”
You smiled as he walked into his room, turning back to gaze at you.
I Don’t Need Your Help (squip x reader; part 2 of ??)
A/N: SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT IVE HAD THIS FINISHED SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DRAFT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED AND CRIED OVER IT FOR HOURS OOPS AND I DIDNT LIKE HOW THE SECOND RESULT TURNED OUT AT ALL BUT HERE TAKE THIS STEAMING PILE OF HOT GARBAGE EW EW EW
—
I was startled awake by a scream.
I jolt up off the ground, gasping and groaning as my body immediately reacted with an intense soreness in every muscle. Where was I? It was cold- the floor beneath me was hard….
“Oh my god- what- what happened in here?”
A panicked voice makes me wince, eyes opening slowly. Bright. I was….
In the bathroom. In the bathroom at the mall.
“Miss- Hey- Miss- get up-”
A hand reaches out to grab my arm, yanking me up off my behind. God, it felt like someone had put me through a document shredder. Twice. Why did everything hurt so bad??
“Hey! Are- are you okay??”
I was sucked back into reality by the voice of the short woman in front of me- she was probably a sophomore, clad in the mall worker’s uniform. She looked like she’d seen a ghost….
“W-What?”
I feel myself say. It takes effort, and my own voice seems distant. It almost feels like I’d just had the worst acid trip of my life…. God, I hope that wasn’t what had actually happened.
But what had happened back there??
“You- it’s closing time, miss- how- how long have you been in here?”
The short girl questions, worry showing clear on her face. Great. Closing time. Midnight. But how was it so late? I’d only headed into Spencer’s to get……
To get the SQUIP.
‘God, it’s about time you got up.’
My body immediately freezes in place. No. No, no no-
“Miss?”
I whip my head around to look at the girl. I have to get home. Now.
“I-I have to go-”
I stutter out quickly, ripping my arm away from her and stumbling away. I ignore her protests. I have bigger things to worry about now.
Sprinting through the mall, I pray to anyone who is listening that I make it out of here with my sanity and dignity in tact. A part of me is in denial. This couldn’t possibly be real- the stupid pill- it was just….
But I knew. What else was I expecting?? It was like I was hoping that the six hundred dollars I’d just pissed away were a waste- which wasn’t too far from accurate. But now everything was different. Now everything was new. And I was terrifed.
‘Take a left. The bus arrives in fifteen minutes, wouldn’t want to be late or you’re walking home. Would be rather unfortunate for the both of us, really.’
The voice chimes into my thoughts and I gasp, stumbling a bit as I run. It was there, it was real, and it was inside of my head-
'The sooner you get back home, the sooner I get to fix this mess you’ve made of yourself.’
A groan erupts from my throat and I feel an uncharacteristic wave of anger boil in the pit of my stomach. So maybe the SQUIP was a real thing. And maybe I’d just thrown away enough money to buy at least a thousand ice cream cones. But by no means could this stupid computer just barge his way into my thoughts and boss me around-
“Actually, I can.”
Suddenly the voice is real. Suddenly the voice is there, and instead of in my head it’s right in front of me, and I can’t breathe-
And it’s smiling at me.
He- or it looks like a he- has to at least be 6'3, towering above my smaller stature with a Cheshire grin. And God, does it make me the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been. Clad in an almost buisness-like inky black tailcoat paired with an oddly-bright shade of cyan undershirt and black slacks, he is literally intimidating to the point that I can’t feel myself breathe anymore.
My eyes quickly flicker up to his face and the only thing my brain begins to comprehend is how his eyes match the cyan of his undershirt- bold and wide and full of something between irritation and amusement. The world is moving around me but I can’t feel it; my mind, my eyes are too caught up in admiring the terrifying beast in front of me, how his tousled black hair frames his face perfectly and how the smirk plastered on his face pairs so well with the slight five o’ clock shadow and-
“Wake up. We don’t want to attract any more attention. You’ve gone and screwed it up enough as it is.”
I’m literally pulled out of my trance when he grabs my hand and actually drags me down the hall, an indignant squeak the only noise allowed to escape my lips. Who is this guy- how did he just- I heard him in my head-
“God, are you that dense?”
He drops my hand and I stumble a little, unable to find my voice. His grin has disappeared, and for a moment I’m relieved- until I spy the frustration written across his features.
“Follow me. Don’t say a word. People will think you’re insane, talking to yourself, and you don’t need anything else hindering your ability to be……. not whatever this is.”
He motions toward me and grimaces as he speaks, and a part of me is offended- who is this man to judge me?? We’d never even-
It clicks.
'It’s supposed to make you popular.’
'Tells you how to be cool.’
'Helps to fix everything wrong with you- it’ll make your life perfect!’
“You’re my SQUIP.”
The words escape my lips and I am breathless, frozen. He isn’t real. He’s just in my mind- but it feels so real. He hears my thoughts, he knows, he-
“If it’s taken you this long to figure out that one fact alone, I can already say that this is going to take a while.”
The SQUIP grumbles out, and he’s walking again. But this time it’s different. I know now, I know he’s not real, and I recognize how his dress shoes make no sound against the cold tile of the mall floor.
It pulls me out of my thoughts, realizing that this was exactly what I’d paid for. I stumble and hurry to catch up, still reeling, but the feeling is fading. It’s no longer fear that consumes me, but oddly enough-
Curiosity.
We exit the mall a few minutes later, into the darkness of a chilly autumn night. For a moment I almost lose him in the darkness due to his outfit- but there’s something about him. A surreal aura, almost like a glow that surrounds him and keeps him in my sight. I don’t have time to question it before he raises a hand and swipes at the air, making me blink as something akin to a computer interface appears in front of him. It glows the same color as his eyes, and my mind makes the connection that 'hey, maybe cyan’s his color’ as I hurry along behind him. He’s typing and scrolling vigorously, and a part of me is in awe. It was like a movie. Kind of scary and alien, but charmingly futuristic….
A smile graces my face and I shove my hands into my pockets, observing him silently as I do my best to keep up with him. The only noises in their air are the sound of my own footsteps and the occasional car whizzing by on the road, and for a moment it’s peaceful.
The peace doesn’t last very long.
Within seconds my brain is reminding me how awful this is, and my smile is eradicated immediately. How this machine is the very same that dragged away one of my best friends, and I was suddenly just cool with following it?? Watching it?? Listening to its instructions, obeying like some dog to its master?? This computer would not be my master- and would get no treatment as such. I was in control of my own brain, my own body-
But bloody hell, was he the most handsome thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.
The moment the thought pops into my head I regret it. Regret everything. Regret even being born- and my desire to throw myself out into moving traffic increases by at least two hundred percent when the SQUIP freezes in its tracks, obviously affected by my train of thought. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged my presence since we left, and it just had the be my stupid brain that did the trick. Oh god, this is awful, I want to die, my face is flushing and I don’t even need to see it to know because god I’m sweating so much and this is so uncomfortable and I think my heart stopped beating at some point and it’s so hard to breathe-
My internal rambling halts immediately when I feel his hand close around my wrist, tugging me forward beside him as we continue walking. I open my mouth to speak (like a fool, might I add) but close it again once my eyes catch the look on his face. It’s not anger. Or sadness, or irritation.
He’s embarrassed.
I only see it for a moment before he speeds up, the bus stop coming into view as I fall behind him. But no, I got all the time I needed to witness what I had-
The ride home may have been silent, but the grin on my face spoke novels of its own.
straddling him and grinding your still clothed crotch against his, keeping your eyes locked and wanting until you can see the blood rush to his cheeks and his bulge grow against your body and just the simple whisper of his name could practically get him to blow
Summary: During class, you become wildly over-stimulated for no particular reason. Your SQUIP takes it upon itself to help you.
Author’s Note: WOAH HEY I hadn’t listened to Be More Chill in like, over a month, and suddenly I remembered how much I loved the Squip. Anyway, here’s this. Let me know if you have any requests!!
Plot: You boldly admit that you wanna be with your Squip, and 'he' struggles to face his own... 'feelings'.
Warnings: The Squip is RUDE.
"-I dont want any guy at my school, I want you!" The words fly out of your mouth before you can have any say in the matter, buy you don't back down; maintaining a serious look on your face directed at the SQUIP.
All day he's been pestering you about going on a date, or hooking up - it's college culture, after all. And people enjoy it! - and you had reached your boiling point. Every guy that he suggested was disgusting, you didn't like any of then. You knew you wouldn't. You've never been interested in guys your own age,.. or who are nice,.. or your own species-
If you could even call the SQUIP a species, anyway. He was a computer. A very, very smart one who seemed... at times... to have feelings. Mostly irritation and pride but feelings all the same. That gave you hope.
You recognise how dumb your having hope was but, well, you couldn't help it.
You also don't get how Squip didn't see it in you, he has access to everything - your every thought, - but he never let on that he had any idea of your feelings toward him. Maybe he was trying to ignore it? That would sure make sense.
"... excuse me?" The Squip's voice is deadpanned while his face looks unamused, and dubious, and about a million other things you never want to see the guy you like look at you with when you tell them, and it makes you roll your eyes.
"You heard me." You don't have to repeat yourself to him! The asshole.
"You're being irrational." He sighs eyes rolling upwards into his skull. Then he rolls his shoulders, shakes his head in disappointment, and regains his composure; twisting his cufflinks that are always perfectly anyway considering he's a computerised image. "Honestly, if your period wasn't coming up in two days then I'd say you were crazy."
Jaw dropping, you suddenly wish you could touch him without his authorisation (he needs to access your nervous system to make it feel as if you're touching)- so you can hit him. "Low blow- and you know it." He's a computer- other dudes may actually think that periods impare women's thinking but the Squip knows that's just something you say to hurt someone. And you're not going to demean yourself explaining your bodily functions to him.
"No, menstruation doesn't impare your thinking," He admits, nodding matter-o-factly as he agrees with your thoughts, but not-at-all looking sincere. "But it does make you hormonal. You're just horny- it'll pass. I recognise that you've been having these thoughts for most of our time working together now but its your hormones causing you to voice them; trust me. Maybe I should switch to a less pleasing appearance?"
"Wh- no- "
"Hm, you know how I could help you relieve that horniness?"
Oh no. You know exactly where this is going. And it's not 'I can quickly fuck you'. No- "Don't you dare."
"Helping you hook up with Zack, yes."
"Squip!" You exclaim, frustration laced in everything about you; your tone, your eyes, your mouth and jaw, your hands- "It's not happening." You sat sternly. "I don't care if you don't want me back, you great asshole chip, but I'm not going to hook up with a frat boy like - "
"Reed then?"
"- Or a self righteous nerd like Reed. I'm not. I got you so you could help me be more comfortable in my own body, not have sex with random guys. And you know that! I don't know why you're constantly trying to get me in a guy's bed! Its- I- It defies reason!"
The Squip's form flickers, a snatch of his voice attempting to say 'reason' slipping out fuzzy as he seems to glitch at those last words. It only lasts for a few a moment, but it surprises you. Your face softens, and you reach towards him, not to touch him because you know you can't but just... because you have to- and- he actually looks at it as he returns seamlessly to his put-together air and appearance.
Theirs a curious look on his face as he grimaces at your hand. His eyes seem to be holding something back, but he's thinking about it.
"... your care for me defies reason. I'm a computer."
"I know." You shrug, gentle. All the frustration from before gone from your shoulders and everywhere else.
"Not a man." He reiterates, and you shrug.
"Well- you're a man a little. A computer wouldn't get so worked up."
"I'm an extremely superior computer."
"You are." You agree softly. "Alexa's got nothing on you. But you're also a man a little. Feelings cant be programmed." You insist, not pushing him but just stating a fact. Wanting him to believe it.
"I believe it." He growls, an annoyance in his voice thicker then humanly possible as he actually admits it. "Trust me, I... Its been a thought on my mind for a while, now." You open your mouth to ask him what he means by that, but he waives you off (rudely) and goes on. "You're right in saying feelings can't be programmed. Reactions can, but,.. not feelings. And the feelings you've been inciting in me, have not been programmable. I even tried to program them out, but- mm." Eyes growing slightly wider at him, you watch his jaw set and pop; frustration absolutely clear. "The only thing I can think is that its your fault. And, maybe, if I made you a little less available- a little less open to me- whatever virus is in me would lose interest. But... you're so fucking stubborn." Theirs actual anger in his eyes when he looks at you then, almost rage. Wow.
Your lips make an 'oh' shape. "Thats why you tried to get me to hook up with- "
"All those idiots, yes. But you just had to act like an obstinate little bitch and refuse every suggestion I made."
"Yeah, well, we know why that is- and don't call me that."
"Bitch." He growls, causing you to sigh in frustration (asshole, asshole, asshole- ), before he rolls his shoulders back and straightens up properly again. "... but you're right. You are. I know exactly why, and now you know my feelings- This interaction's been unprofessional as hell. It's gone too far. If I'm going to continue to assist you, help that you absolutely require," Gee thanks. "then I'm going to have to do a complete system reboot."
"You- " ??? "This is the most dramatic responce in history to being in love."
"I'm NOT in lo- " He cuts himself off before the word can come out, even if he was a full-man he would hate the word. Theirs nothing cool about being in love. To him it would be pathetic. "Thats it. In 5 minutes when I return post-reboot, this will be over and you will stifle your feelings about me- got it? That's how it should be. Now... " His appearance begins to flicker again, more frequently this time until he flickers completely out of existence like a TV switching off.
... you're about to panic, when the Squip touches back down onto the ground in front of you. He looks exactly the same as before except better posture, and when he looks down at you there with your wide eyes and your concerned frown, he immediately scowls.
"GODDAMNIT."
"Didn't work??" You light up. Quickly a mischievous smirk slips across your face, though, realising you're right when that pretty face scowls deeper. That means... oh, this computer must really have it bad for you. Ha. "I see... "
His eyes flash, actually flash - a blue light turning on inside them for a moment and making him looking almost demonic, - , and you suddenly appears directly in front of you, an unnaturally strong hand slamming you by the shoulder into the wall behind you. "You don't see... anything. This is a virus. I dont have feelings, for you."
Looking straight back at him in defiance, you nod. "It is a virus. I think everyone in the history of the world can agree on that."
He falters, so annoyed he almost can't decide what to say to you. "That doesn't even make sense, Y/N. Most people in the history of the world didn't even know what a virus was. It was first used 1898- " When you reach up and curl your fingers gently around the back of his neck he falters again, breathing in slowly and deeply- so sexy. "You're... what are you doing?"
... "Whatever you want me to." Its up to him. If he wants you to let him go, you will. If he wants you to keep going, you will. It's all up to him. You remember the first time you and the Squip kissed; he was just teaching you how (said it was completely okay because he was just in your head), but that was the start of your feelings. That was the start of this mess. You wonder if he was struggling before that and thats why he suggested it in the first place all those weeks ago.
When warm, firm lips slam into yours, forcing your lips to part and allow a forceful but exceptionally skilled tongue to take what it wants you're shocked and let out a squeak. The Squip's hand takes your throat now instead of your shoulder, squeezing shortly to tell you no, don't squeak. Not like you didn't ask for this, he thinks directly into your brain. Now what did I teach you then? If you remember so well? Don't sit there like a dumb statue. Kiss me back.
... when you do, tilting your head and giving a slow moan when your tongues touch, the Squip let's out a growl right into your mouth that feels so real, and drags you in tighter against him by the hips. You know it's just him activating your nervous system, and he's not really there, but you're miraculously okay with that. When something feels this good you don't question it.
for those who don’t remember, “mole interest” was an experiment I did 2 years ago because I wanted to test what causes tags to go trending on tumblr. My hypothesis was that all it takes is one (1) post blowing up in an established tag to make the entire tag trend.
I had randomly generated 2 words, which is where “mole interest” came from. I failed to consider that by generating a new tag, it wouldn’t have had enough posts already in it to prove what I now call “the mole interest effect”.
But now it does.
In 2023, we said “fuck it” a la mythbusters and ended up doing whatever it took to get #mole interest to trend. And it did. And it happened to be September 11th that day, and we managed to get #mole interest to trend ABOVE #9/11.
So, in the name of science, I ask you to reblog just this post. Let’s put the mole interest effect to the test.
Warnings/tags: fluff, Alastor being smarmy, afab reader, an aggressive amount of commas and parenthesis, deer kink(?), slightly suggestive, Alastor isn't repulsed by touch at least not from (Y/N), cursing, thoughts in italics, the hotel has a kitchen?
A/n: this is my first time posting fanfic, so please go easy on me, guys! let me know if I made any errors in the comments <3
“I seriously can’t believe you, Alastor!” you shouted, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“I really don’t see the problem here, dear,” he said, slightly more passive aggressive than normal.
You two had been fighting for the last 10 minutes or so, standing in the small kitchen of the Hazbin Hotel. While your fight had started with a simple argument over a slight misunderstanding, soon the gates broke and the flood began— every single thing that Alastor had done that ticked you off just rushed out in a wave that you couldn't seem to stop.
“Argh, you’re just… the… the worst!!” you screamed into his face, lacking better words.
Alastors eyes narrowed, shit-eating-grin strained slightly, ears flicking back for a brief moment. You barely caught the change in his eyes or smile, but your eyes darted up at the movement from his fluffy, red and black ears.
You’d never admit it, but ever since you’d arrived at the hotel, you’d had a bit of an obsession over the Radio Demon. He was aggravating and full of himself and bitchy and narcissistic, but something about him always seemed to make your heart beat a little faster. Especially his more… deer-like features.
Antlers, ears, (speculated) tail— you were fascinated by it all. All you wanted to do was run your hand up the back of his ears, tangling in his hair, while you lay, gasping, helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy…
You blinked, realizing that you’d been staring for a few moments too long. Alastor noticed, of course. Smiling wider, he decided to have some fun with it.
“Really, darling? In what ways am I…” he flicked his ears backwards, then forwards again, “the worst?”
You blushed, eyes never breaking from his ears. “Uh, well, I… for starters…” you trailed off.
“...Yes, dear? I’m listening.” His left ear flicked to the side.
“Oh, well, you know…” you desperately tried to gain control of the conversation, looking into his eyes again. “You’re incredibly full of yourself.”
“Oh, really, (Y/N)? And you’re so humble?” He grinned impossibly wider, ears flicking in every which way.
“Well, ya know, I…” Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N), you thought, eyes trying to focus on anything else but the demon in front of you. “I’m not an asshole about it.” Fuck, why did you say that?!
Alastor threw his head back and laughed, his ears finally stopping. You pouted, hating to be the butt of whatever sadistic joke you were to him. “Really? Is that what you think of me?” he asked, still laughing.
“I… I mean, I…” What did you mean? Sure, Alastor could be shitty at times, but he seemed to have a soft spot for you… at least, that’s what you thought. You didn’t really know anymore.
He bent at the waist, face drawing closer to yours, and it seemed as if he read your mind. “What did you mean, sweetheart? I’m listening.” His ears shifted back (purposefully, of course– he just loved to see you squirm). That was the final breaking point for you.
“Oh, fuck you, Alastor!” you turned your head away, suddenly very aware that your back was now firmly pressed against the kitchen counter.
“You’re welcome to try, dear.”
HE DID NOT JUST—
You blushed, and your eyes flashed to his instantly, because there was no way in hell that he just said that.
The smirk that played across his face told you that he had indeed just said that.
“I…I…I-I,” you stammered, not quite able to process it. His smirk grew, especially after his ears twitched to the front again and your eyes followed every movement and his eyes followed yours.
Changing the subject (thank Satan), his smile shifted to a kinder one, eyes looking up to where his ears stood, then back at you. "Would you like to touch them, darling?"
You were silent for a moment, taken aback. "What-- I'm sorry?"
You heard him, of course, and he knew that, so he continued. "As long as our little argument is over, that is." He reached down and took your hand, eyes never breaking away from yours. "As much as I love our friendly banter, it hurts me so much to see you so angry at me."
You didn't know what to say for once, so you just let him bring your hand to to the side of his temple, almost touching his hair.
"...I..." Honestly, you were surprised you got that much out.
Still smiling, his eyes stared into your soul. "Use your words, dear."
Well, there was no going back now. You threw all your embarrassment out the window and nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, Alastor, I do."
Alastor smiled (you could swear there was kindness behind it), bowed his head, and pressed your hand to the base of his ear.
You almost gasped. The hair (hair? fur? hair-fur?) was soft, softer than you'd imagined. Your fingers gently danced up and down his ear, and then moved over to caress his antlers.
Meanwhile, hidden from you, Alastor's face was a mess of emotions. Every bone in his body screamed at his to leave, to vanish, to get away from the danger that physical contact might bring. His eyes flashed into radio dials, then back again. However, within only a few seconds, he relaxed into your touch, letting out a soft exhale.
You were enthralled with his ears and antlers, so much so that you brought your other hand up to the back of his head, unintentionally pulling him closer to you. Alastor stepped forward slightly, swallowed his pride, and trailed his hands up the sides of your thighs to your waist, while your fingers kept toying with his hair.
Alastor, head still lowered, shifted enough to where he could look up at you. Finally, finally you were able to stop looking at the top of his head (satiated for now), and stared deep into his crimson eyes. (Were his pupils more dilated than normal?)
Slowly, he stood up straight, eyes still fixated on you. Your hands fell from his ears to his hair, and then to his chest. You seemed even more aware of the counter behind you, especially as Alastor took another small step toward you, almost pressing into you, hands tightening on your waist.
"Thank you," you whispered, almost inaudibly, head reaching up slightly.
"Any time, ma chère," he whispered back, as his head lowered.
At that moment, Charlie burst into the kitchen. Immediately, you spun around to face the sink, while Alastor shadow-traveled a few yards away to the fridge. "Alright, you two! I hope you're ready for some group exercises!" she bubbled.
You cleared your throat, blushing (grateful that she didn't see the almost-kiss). "Of course, we'll be out in a minute!" you assured the princess.
"No, no, right now! Let's goooo!" she dragged you out of the kitchen.
Before you passed the now open doorway, you caught Alastor's eye.
He smiled at you.
You grinned.
"Any time, my dear," he whispered once more as you disappeared. "Any time."
Summary: After the hotel’s valentine’s day party, Alastor gets a little drunk. Who knows what secrets will be revealed when the Radio Demon gets a little too much whiskey?
A/n: I was very inspired by the valentine’s outfits from Vivzie, so everyone’s outfits here are (modest, going out, of course) versions of the designs. (I was also inspired by @zonxter's amazing work here) Also, this is my first time writing a kiss scene, so please let me know if it's ok! :)
You sighed, picking up yet another plastic party cup. After a long day of setting up the hotel for Charlie’s Valentine’s Day party, the last thing you wanted to do was clean up the mess the guests had made. However, one look into Charlie’s puppy-dog eyes convinced you to ignore your oncoming headache and help.
“Another, please, Husker!” Alastor, the only one not helping, sat on the couch in the lobby, surrounded by a few to many shot glasses. Husk rolled his eyes from the bar, but dutifully poured another and brought it over to Al. You sighed. It wasn’t fair that you were working your ass off while the Radio Demon just sat around, was it?
Making your way over to the couch where he sat, you kept picking up streamers in various shades of pink and red and stuffing them into the black trash bag you carried. As you drew closer to Alastor, you could tell just how drunk he was. Chuckling to himself about seemingly nothing, his bowtie was completely undone, just hanging around his neck, and both his feet were up on the couch. One knee crossed over the other with his hands draped across his chest, this was possibly the least put-together you’d ever seen him. His eyes lazily drifted up to yours, a tipsy blush across his cheeks. “Why, hello, dear!” he said, radio filter gone, almost slurring his words together. “You wouldn’t mind getting me another one of these, would you?” he asked, raising the now-empty shot glass in his hand. You just rolled your eyes and moved on, clearing more party cups off the bar. You didn’t really know why he let his demeanor slip so much, especially since everyone was still out and about, but you decided it was better not to ask.
Alastor huffed like a child, then called out to Husk, who poured another one. Alastor groggily grabbed it off the bar with his shadowy tentacles.
Sitting at the bar, you subtly glanced over at him. Alastor looked different today— a nice different. Instead of his usual suit, the one he wore now had only black and dark red. Heart shaped buttons and small stitched x’s adorned his cuffs and vest front. You blushed slightly; vests were your weak spot. Alastor caught your eyes, and your blush only deepened as his smirk grew. Breaking his stare, you returned your gaze to the bar in front of you, suddenly fascinated with the etchings in the wood.
“Hey, (Y/N)! Could I have some help over here?” Charlie called from the other side of the lobby.
“Sure,” you called back, getting up from the barstool.
About an hour later, the lobby was finally back to looking normal. Charlie and Vaggie had just gone up to bed, soon followed by Angel, Lucifer, Niffty, and, finally, Husk. You finished up in the kitchen, then went out one last time to check on Alastor. He was still on the couch, even more disheveled than before. Over half a dozen shot glasses sat on the table in front of him. You sighed, before going over to pick them up. Alastor looked up, as if just now registering your presence. “Ah, darling! Won’t you pour me just one more of those?” he asked, eyes half-lidded.
You firmly shook your head. “No, Alastor. You’ve had enough. I don’t know what got into you tonight, but no more of it. I’m cutting you off.”
Alastor practically pouted (yet somehow remained smiling). “No, dear. Please get me another, or I will.”
You turned to face him, looking down to where he was splayed across the couch, legs now wide open. “No! No more! You’re going to be too drunk to get up to your room if you have more.”
Alastor growled, his eyes flashing into radio dials. He grabbed at your hands, pulling you toward him until you fell forward. You flushed; partly out of anger (and partly because you were practically sitting in his lap). “And what, my dear, gives you the jurisdiction to preside over me, to make that decision for me? Hmm?”
Still flushed, you didn’t really know what to say. (Even when drunk, Alastor had such a way with words). “I, uh…” You decided to just be honest. “I don’t want to see you regret anything you might do tonight.”
He smiled, pulling you even closer. Your face was inches from his, your stomach pressed against his. “Oh, dear… I would never regret anything I did with you.”
You turned as red as his hair. “I’m not so sure about that,” you backed up, pulling out of his grasp. “You’ve never even held my hand before, and now you’re pulling me into your lap? I don’t think that’s something that you would do if you were sober.”
Alastor’s smile turned almost sad. “Or maybe it’s just something I’ve never been brave enough to do,” he said quietly.
“...I… I’m sorry?” you whispered. There was no way that Alastor had admitted that. But, if he really had… then maybe your feelings toward him were reciprocated? No, of course not, you shook the thought from your head.
He looked down, sighed, and then looked back at you. “Forgive me, dear,” he breathed.
Before you had a chance to ask him what he was talking about, Alastor had pulled you back to his lap, crashing his lips against yours.
You froze. As much as you’d dreamed of this moment, you couldn’t rightfully continue. It would be taking advantage of the situation. Fighting against every urge to kiss him back, you pulled away.
Alastor looked surprised, then sad, then guilty. “I… I’m so sorry,” he sighed, dropping your hands.
Rushing to fix your mistake, you started babbling. “No, no, it’s not that, it’s just…” you struggled to find the right words. “I can’t. Not while you’re like this. Not when you can't make decidions, on weather or not you want to do this."
Alastor blinked, seeming out of the alcohol trance for a moment. His eyes softened, gazing lovingly into yours. “Oh, my dear… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”
You were taken aback. “I… what?”
“Sweetheart, ever since you arrived at this hotel, I’ve wanted to kiss you more than anything. I thought that today, on the day dedicated to love…” he laughed at this, gesturing around at the hotel, still minimally decorated. “...it might be the perfect opportunity to tell you. Ah, but alas…” he giggled, no doubt from the whiskey, “...Alas, it seems that I couldn’t have done it without a good ol’ glass of rye!”
“Um… really?” you whispered, not wanting to get your hopes up. "Not about the rye part, the... the other part?"
“Really and truly!” He smiled. Taking your hands again (softer, this time), he slowly pulled you back on his lap so that you now straddled him. Eyes never breaking from yours until they closed, his mouth gently found yours again. Running his silver tongue across your bottom lip, he smiled into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, locked on yours. You breathed in a gasp as his tongue found its way into your mouth. Oh, he tasted so sweet— like strong rye and vanilla. The kiss was soft, not what you’d imagined from Alastor. It was a pleasant surprise, though— a very pleasant surprise.
The kiss deepened, as Alastor’s hand came up to the back of your neck. You shifted your hips forward, hands gripped tightly to his coat lapels. Alastor softly moaned into the kiss, and you matched it with a whine; in perfect harmony.
Gasping, you both came up for air. Staring into his eyes, a love-struck smile played across your face. Alastor goofily grinned. “I love you, (Y/N).”
You blushed as you stood, pulling Alastor with you. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that tomorrow, buddy.” Guiding him into the elevator, you pressed the button to the top floor.
“I will!” he assured you. Then, after a few moments, “Won’t you stay the night?”
Smiling, you held tighter onto his arm. “Not tonight, Al. Let’s wait until you’re not… intoxicated.”
He grinned as you led him out of the elevator to his room. “Really?”
You smiled as he walked into his room, turning back to gaze at you.
the only thing better than seeing your mutuals liking a bunch of your posts is seeing two of your favorite mutuals interacting with each other on your post
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