The Rivalry Continues
(tickle fic please enjoy)
After Vox was finally defeated, and after Charlie, her friends, Emily, and even the overlords joined forces to stop the angelic weapon from obliterating Heaven and Hell alike, the Hazbin Hotel had begun to flourish in a way none of them could’ve imagined. Peace—even the Hell-version of it—settled over the halls like warm morning light.
And for the first time in years, Alastor was free from his chains.
He remained at the hotel, his presence no longer looming but… oddly domestic. Helpful. Curious. A bit too interested in the blender in the hotel kitchen—but otherwise harmless.
Lucifer, however, had not recovered quite as quickly.
Though freed, the fallen angel was still weakened from being drained nearly dry. He spent most of his time in the quieter corners of the hotel, occasionally helping Charlie with small tasks, trying to regain his strength bit by bit. He put on a proud face, but anyone with eyes could see he wasn’t at full power.
Alastor certainly noticed.
And unfortunately for Lucifer, the Radio Demon had also noticed something else—something he had learned during his miserable captivity beneath Vox:
Lucifer was extremely ticklish.
A fact Alastor had filed away with wicked care.
A new game. A harmless one, of course—he had no intention of hurting the weakened angel. But entertainment? After all he had endured, Alastor felt he was due at least a little mischief.
And Lucifer, well… Lucifer had made himself the perfect target.
The hotel’s quiet that afternoon, sunlight (or as close as Hell gets to it) spilling into the lounge where Lucifer sat on the velvet couch. His wings were drooped, his hair slightly mussed from exhaustion, eyes half-lidded as he read a book Charlie insisted would “lift his spirits.”
Alastor appeared beside him without sound, without warning—of course.
“Afternoon, old sport,” he chimed cheerfully, cane tapping once on the polished floorboards.
Lucifer didn’t look up. “Alastor. Please tell me you’re not here to ask me to judge another chili cook-off. I told you—”
“Oh, nothing of the sort!” Alastor beamed. “I was simply checking in on you. You look simply dreadful.”
Lucifer muttered something unangelic under his breath.
That was when Alastor’s grin stretched—just slightly wider.
Perfect.
Lucifer barely reacted when Alastor sat beside him. He was too tired, and—more importantly—he didn’t consider Alastor a physical threat anymore. That was his first mistake.
The second was when he shifted to get comfortable, lifting his arm just enough to expose a vulnerable sliver of his side.
Alastor’s eyes flicked toward it like a shark scenting blood.
“Tell me,” Alastor purred softly, leaning in just enough to make Lucifer glance at him, “Charlie mentioned you were… more sensitive these days.”
Lucifer blinked. “Sensitive? To what?”
“Ohhh,” Alastor mused, twirling his cane, “to touch.”
Lucifer froze. “Alastor—don’t.”
But it was already too late.
The Radio Demon’s fingers shot forward with supernatural quickness, scribbling across Lucifer’s ribs.
The reaction was immediate.
Lucifer yelped—actually yelped—and nearly shot off the couch, wings flaring wide as he clamped his arms down, twisting away from the sudden attack.
“ALASTOR—!!”
“Oh hoho! How interesting!” Alastor crowed, delighted. “I barely touched you!”
“It wasn’t barely!” Lucifer snapped, laughter bubbling up despite himself. “Stop—stohop that—!”
But Alastor was not stopping.
He was enjoying this far too much.
His wiggle of fingers chased along Lucifer’s sides, a gentle but relentless flurry that had the fallen angel gasping, snorting, and desperately trying to wriggle out of reach despite being too weak to teleport, fly, or even fully stand.
“Oh, this is marvelous!” Alastor laughed. “And here I thought you were regaining your strength!”
Lucifer squealed—an actual undignified squeal—when Alastor skittered fingertips beneath one lowered wing.
“NOHOHO—NOT THE WIHINGS—!!”
“Oh yes, the wings indeed!”
Lucifer curled in on himself, face red, laughter spilling out in bright, helpless bursts as Alastor continued his “research.”
Eventually—after several minutes of delightful torment—Alastor lifted his hands, letting Lucifer collapse back onto the couch in a breathless, giggling heap.
The angel wheezed, hair in wild disarray, wings twitching with the phantom aftershocks of laughter.
“You—” Lucifer gasped between breaths, “you absolute menace—”
“Oh, don’t pout,” Alastor said sweetly, patting his shoulder. “It’s good for you. Laughter is an excellent remedy for fatigue.”
Lucifer glared at him with all the ferocity of a wet kitten.
“If you ever tell Charlie—”
“My lips are sealed,” Alastor promised, still grinning wide. “Unless, of course… I get bored again.”
Lucifer immediately shielded his sides.
Alastor’s grin widened.
“Oh, this will be fun.”
Lucifer remained sprawled on the velvet couch, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, wings still trembling from their ticklish assault. His glare could’ve curdled milk, though his flushed cheeks and poorly-hidden smile ruined the effect.
Alastor, meanwhile, stood prim and unbothered, cane resting politely against his shoulder as if he had not just reduced the fallen ruler of Hell to helpless giggles.
“Are you done?” Lucifer wheezed.
“For now,” Alastor hummed. “But do keep in mind: rivalries are built on consistency.”
Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Rivalries? This is not a rivalry. This is harassment.”
“Oh, I beg to differ!” Alastor chirped. “I find it fascinating that even drained of your divinity, you still have enough dramatic flair to be amusing. Why, one might say you’re more entertaining now than ever before!”
Lucifer sat up sharply, offended. “I am still an overlord-level being—even if temporarily weakened. And I am fully capable of defending myself.”
Alastor’s ear twitched. His grin widened.
“Oh? Then by all means, my dear Lightbringer. Show me.”
Lucifer stood—wobbling only slightly—and faced Alastor with a renewed spark in his eyes.
“Very well,” he declared dramatically, wings flaring as though he were about to deliver a sermon from on high. “If it is rivalry you wish, then you shall have one. Titans clashing. Legends opposing—”
Alastor reached forward and flicked his forehead.
Lucifer yelped. Not hurt—just offended on a cosmic level.
“You—!!”
“Oh good grief,” Alastor sighed. “Are you going to lecture me into submission, or will you actually attempt something useful?”
Lucifer gritted his teeth… then smirked.
“Oh, I’ll attempt something.”
In a flash, Lucifer lunged—not to strike, but to grab Alastor’s coat lapels. His fingers slipped, brushed the fabric, then—
Contact. Barely.
But it was enough for him to feel it.
The faintest, tiniest flinch from the Radio Demon.
Lucifer froze. Alastor froze.
A single spark snapped between them.
“…oh,” Lucifer whispered, wonder blooming across his face. “Oh I see.”
Alastor’s smile cracked.
“Don’t you dare.”
But Lucifer dared.
Lucifer’s wings snapped forward. Not aggressively—more like a sweeping, dramatic curtain flourish as he lunged again, hands shooting toward Alastor’s sides.
Alastor dodged—mostly. Lucifer still managed a quick, experimental poke to his ribs.
And Alastor jumped.
Actually jumped like a startled cat.
“Ah—! Ahem.” He straightened his coat violently. “That was merely—reflex.”
Lucifer’s grin turned wicked, halo flickering like a broken lightbulb.
“Oh, really? Then you won’t mind if I—”
“Lucifer—”
“—test that theory—”
“Lucifer, don’t you—”
“—AGAIN!”
He struck—not with grace, not with strength, but with sheer petty enthusiasm.
Fingers scribbled briefly at Alastor’s sides, quick and unrefined, but oh what a reaction he got:
Alastor choked on a static burst, flinched hard, and shoved Lucifer back with a stammer that bordered on undignified.
“I— that is— ENOUGH.”
Lucifer laughed. A full, bright, ringing sound he hadn’t made in ages.
“Oh this is delightful. You’re ticklish too!”
“I am NOT,” Alastor snapped, smoothing his coat as if that could erase the truth. “That was simply… surprise.”
“Yes, yes, keep lying to yourself.”
They stood inches apart, glaring, sparks practically flying between demon and fallen angel.
“You realize this means war,” Alastor said calmly.
Lucifer smiled sweetly. “Oh, it always means war.”
“Then prepare yourself, dear boy—because I do not lose.”
Lucifer raised a brow. “Neither do I.”
Their glares deepened. Their smirks sharpened. Their shoulders tensed—
And then Charlie walked past the lounge doorway, smiled brightly, and said:
“Oh good! You two are finally bonding!”
Both immediately turned away like guilty schoolchildren.
“Yes, dear, we’re… bonding,” Lucifer said, wings twitching as he tried to act normal.
“Positively inseparable!” Alastor added through clenched teeth.
Charlie gave them an approving thumbs up and continued on her way.
Silence.
Then—at the exact same time—
Alastor twitched a finger toward Lucifer’s side. Lucifer flexed a wing toward Alastor’s ribs.
Both froze. Both glared.
The rivalry had begun. And neither intended to lose.
(author note)- hope you liked it please request stuff if you have ideas or constructive criticism
