I made myself sad with the last thing I wrote so HERE! Please enjoy some silly and fluffy Married!Radiostatic headcanons.
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- They BOTH are 100% certified yappers. Their conversations last for hours and span every topic known to man. And once they get wrapped up in a debate, forget it, they won't shut up again. They've overstayed their welcome in multiple bars and restaurants by chatting until past closing time. The waitstaff are huddled together checking their watches, turning off the lights/music, and sweeping aggressively close to the couple's table, waiting for them to notice. They never do.
- Vox is a night owl and Alastor is an early bird. This actually works out because Vox has a tendency to splay out like a starfish when he sleeps, so Alastor has to claim his usual spot before that happens. Also, Alastor likes to read in bed while he's winding down for the night.
- Alastor is not a big fan of sweets, but he knows Vox is. So whenever he's out running errands he likes to pick up a little treat for Vox to enjoy later.
- Both Alastor and Vox have some pretty old fashioned views of marriage. Specifically, they think that divorce is never an option. This is reflected in their marriage certificate, which doubles as a soul contract. Obviously, they take "til (double) death do we part" really seriously.
- Alastor is an unofficial co-founder of VoxTek. His name isn't on the paperwork, but he's been very supportive as Vox built up his empire. He enjoys an office and small studio whenever he feels like joining his husband at Vee tower for work. However, he prefers to broadcast "remotely" when he can.
- Both of them are fiercely overprotective because their biggest fear is losing each other. Any threats a sinner makes against one husband will usually earn a death sentence from the other.
- Alastor claims that Vox's assistant Ethan is very unmemorable and calls him a different name every time he sees him. He's throwing out names like Evan, Ian, and Kevin. Of course, he did learn his name a long time ago, but he doesn't want Ethan to start getting too chummy.
- Alastor isn't very big on cuddling but when he's in the right mood, he very much enjoys being the "little spoon." Vox will be any spoon anytime because the TV man is always down to cuddle.
Bonus:
Vox's pet names for Alastor: Baby, bambi, honey, sweetheart
Alastor's pet names for Vox: Dear, love, darling, picture box
Welp I started writing and it just kept going... these brainworms are too strong, I fear. So, can I interest you in a few more Married!Radiostatic headcanons?
There's even a little something extra at the end...
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- Vox's love language is acts of service + physical touch. Alastor's love language is quality time + words of affirmation.
- Alastor would never admit this, but he listens to music from Vox's era (1950s) whenever he misses him during the day.
- Vox likes to call Alastor up on their shared frequency during lunch or whenever there's a lull in between meetings. He just likes to check in and see how his day is going! It's nice because he can silently chat with his husband and review paperwork at the same time, without anyone being the wiser (of course Ethan knows because Vox gets this dopey grin on his face and starts blushing like crazy).
- They also use their frequency to talk shit during overlord meetings, but it usually turns into a game of who can say the silliest thing to make the other one break. Usually they both end up bursting into obnoxious laughter-- and Carmilla is so fucking done with their shit.
- Alastor is the primary cook at home because 1. he enjoys it and 2. he's REALLY good at it. Vox tries... but he's just awful. One time, he made scrambled eggs that looked and tasted like wet sand. How he managed to achieve that, Alastor will never know.
- Vox does help out with washing the dishes every night, though. He's actually the tidier one of the two, so he takes the lead on things like laundry and weekly cleaning. He's gonna pretend that he doesn't like it, though.
- They are CONSTANTLY bickering. Even in public, they argue like an old married couple (bc that's what they are). It's not aggressive, it's actually more like foreplay for them. Unfortunately, everyone else has to witness it, too.
- They enjoy flirting shamelessly with each other when they go out on date nights. The poor waitress is trying to take their order, but they're too busy playing footsie under the table and making goo goo eyes at each other to notice.
- Vox's TV head is pretty heavy (although it's not as bad as it used to be) and it causes a lot of neck tension/strain after a long day. Luckily, Alastor is AMAZING at massages and will usually agree to trade a neck massage for a hoof massage. Vox is always down (of course) because the TV man is obsessed with Alastor's cute little hooves.
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Bonus: added a few NSFW headcanons under the cut...
- Service top Vox/bratty bottom Alastor all day every day 🩷
- On the rare occasions when Alastor DOES top he usually lets his own shadow or tentacles do the work while he just sits back and... observes.
- We all know Alastor is a biter. But Vox is just as bad-- look at those big shark teeth. He's taking a chomp outta that deer every chance he gets. The morning after, they're both marked up with bites, bruises, and hickeys like a couple of naughty teenagers.
- Vox always makes it his personal mission for Alastor to come once or even twice before he does. He loves to watch Alastor falling apart for him, knowing he's the only one that gets to see it.
- They are fully capable of marathon sex but only indulge on special occasions, like their wedding anniversary. It's part of the reason they take an entire week off for it every year.
- They get it on in the weirdest places and think they're so so sneaky but THEY. ARE. NOT. Vox's office, the storage closet of their favorite bar, the elevator up to the overlord meetings... The couple is caught fooling around so often you would think they have an exhibitionist kink. The truth is, they're just feral for each other, even after all these years.
At least, that's what all of Vox's favorite movies and songs had taught him. The truest, most romantic love forged a bond that lasted forever, overcoming all obstacles. Two souls, intertwined together, hand in hand until their dying day.
He had never thought much about marriage in life, choosing instead to focus on the savage, upward climb of his career. Sure, there had been numerous "distractions" along the way. Pretty little things that boosted his ego and warmed his bed. But nobody of consequence, and certainly no one worthy of the title of Mrs. Whittman. He had long since accepted that his work was destined to be the great love of his life-- until an event that occurred shortly after his death.
In Hell, the unlikeliest of places for a love story, a single fated encounter with the radio demon had tilted Vox's entire world on its axis. An electric meeting of two alike souls, mirrored images of one another. In the strangest way, it was like he had found a piece of himself he didn't even know was missing.
For the first time, the TV demon fell hard, and fast. And before he knew it, his boxy head was swimming with pink hearts and fuzzy static, dreaming of a fall wedding in the future.
And he knew, deep in his bones, that he wanted to marry Alastor more than anything.
xxx
The jazz bar he was sitting in must have been popular, once. He imagined around 40 years ago, it must have been jam packed with sinners eager to do the lindy hop or Charleston. The live music was still stuck in that era, although the crowds had long since disappeared. Only a handful of patrons lingered at the bar now, including himself.
As the stout, blonde singer crooned the final notes from center stage, he ordered two whiskeys from a very sleepy looking bartender. He resembled a sloth, and moved like one too, at a pace slower than molasses. Vox blinked out of sync as he watched the whiskey drip slowly out of the bottle, drop by drop.
The drinks arrived just as the singer descended down the steps and hopped up onto the bar stool next to him, pink feathers bouncing in her hair.
"Heya, Vince," She greeted him with a smirk, reaching for the glass placed before her.
"I go by Vox now, you know that." He responded, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Her red painted lips stuck out in an exaggerated pout, feigning offense.
"Aww, I gotta call you the same thing as everyone else now? You're no fun, TV man."
She sipped the whiskey, making a face as she swallowed.
"Ugh, I'll nevah understand you boys and these drinks, they taste like piss. Hey, barkeep! Gimme the Bee's Knees, and don't skimp on the gin!" She snapped her fingers twice, ignoring the irritated stare of the bartender, then turned her attention back to Vox.
"So, where's your other half, sweetie? You two are usually glued at the hip." She leaned an elbow on the bar, kohl rimmed eyes squinting at him suspiciously.
Vox rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. A pulse of electricity traveled between his antennae.
"That's... actually why I invited you here, I wanted to ask for your help--" he started.
"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Mimzy interrupted, eyes widening. "I should warn you, Al and I go waaay back, I ain't gonna side against him. What happened? Didja do something? Didja hurt him? I swear to fuck--" Mimzy's voice began to raise, feathers shaking in anger, and Vox held up his hands in surrender, leaning back in his seat.
"No, no, nothing like that!" He said quickly. "I wanted... I wanted to propose to him. I have a ring and everything! And you're his oldest friend, so, I thought maybe you might... want to help?"
Mimzy blinked twice, lipstick rimmed mouth dropped open in shock. Then she launched herself forward, squealing in excitement as she crushed Vox in a bone splintering hug. The bar stool wobbled and he gasped for air as she squeezed-- how could someone so small be so strong?!
When she finally pulled away she had tears in her eyes, which she wiped away quickly, mascara smudging on her cheeks.
"Oh, I'm so happy for you two!" She gushed, waving her hands up and down. "Lemme see the ring! Where did you want to propose? We need flowers! Maybe some fireworks! Should we hire musicians? Oh, this is so excitin'--"
Vox grinned as they settled into an animated exchange of ideas, quickly blowing his original budget out of the water. For the next two hours, they laid out a meticulous plan for a picture perfect proposal.
×××
One week after his clandestine meeting with Mimzy, Vox was buzzing with excitement. Literally, his boxy TV head was making a sound that could NOT be considered normal. Some sort of internal component was whirring at high speed, keeping pace with the rapid beat of his heart.
He was seated at Dante's, one of the fanciest restaurants in Hell, secluded in an exclusive, private booth with a large bouquet of red roses clutched in his hands. The vibrant blooms were beautiful, pristine, and just so happened to match his beloved's eye color.
He waited for Alastor now, palms sweating in anticipation as he checked the time-- 8:00 on the dot.
The plan was simple: set the tone of romance with ambiance and music, warm up with some drinks and good food, and then... pop the question. The answer to which would change the course of his life forever. No big deal.
Vox was in charge of the proposal, and Mimzy was in charge of the music and decor.
Which is probably why the booth was surrounded by several oversized, ostentious rose bushes, crowded together to give the corner extra privacy while also seeming to double as a mini rose garden. Multiple string lights hung above the booth, and tealight candles littered the table along with scattered rose petals, warming the space with a faint yellow glow. It was a bit over the top, but so was Mimzy. And if Alastor enjoyed her antics, so did Vox.
She had also promised live music, which would serenade the two as they dined. The musicians had not shown up yet, but Vox refused to worry. Everything would be perfect tonight, it had to be.
While he waited, Vox traced the edges of the perfect rose petals with his claw, and tried not to think too hard about the box that sat heavily in his pocket.
The air suddenly shifted, a new frequency prickling his antennae. He glanced up as a shadow darted across the floor, rising up to form the shape of Alastor. A grin split his screen as the radio demon appeared in front of him, looking as lovely (and lethal) as the day they had met. He offered Vox a sharp smile as his ears flicked forward with interest.
"Hello, dear. Have you been waiting long?"
Vox rose to his feet, taking Alastor's hands in his. Electricity prickled between them as he leaned forward, their lips brushing together in a chaste kiss.
"Not at all. Here, these are for you." Vox handed over the bouquet, a light blue flush creeping over his screen. Alastor rewarded him with another light kiss, accepting the bouquet with a delighted grin.
"Oh, for me? How sweet..."
Alastor's shadow pulled his chair back as the deer settled into his seat, inhaling the fragrant flowers with a contented expression on his face. With a wave of his hand, a small pocket dimension opened, and he deposited the bouquet before closing it again.
Alastor whistled as he looked around, taking in the fancy decor, roses, and candles. His gaze finally landed on Vox, who was staring at him with a dopey smile plastered over his screen.
"Well, this is quite the fancy establishment. Are we celebrating something?" Alastor asked, head cocked to the side.
Vox blinked, shaking himself free from his lovestruck expression.
"Yes, actually! We're celebrating the anniversary of our partnership tonight. Three years ago, you agreed--"
He paused as the waiter arrived with a bottle of vintage champagne, the most expensive one on the menu. Vox waited impatiently as the waiter filled their flutes to the brim, then produced a bowl of large, juicy strawberries, half dipped in chocolate. The waiter set the fruit in the center of the table, then recorded their food orders on a small pad of paper with a flourish.
"Thanks," Vox nodded curtly at the waiter, then turned his attention back to his partner, who was curiously swirling the golden liquid in his glass.
"Champagne is supposed to bubble, no?"
"Uhh, maybe? Anyway, I was trying to say, the past three years of partnership with you have been amazing--"
"Mmhm, cheers to that, darling." Alastor tilted his glass forward to knock against Vox's with a clink. Vox sighed, and raised his glass up to his screen. They both sipped the champagne for only a moment before it was promptly ejected from their mouths in a twin spray, directed mostly at the rose bushes.
"What the FUCK," Vox shrieked, staring at his glass in horror. The liquid looked innocent enough, but the taste was beyond offensive.
"Why was it GRAINY?" He continued to splutter, as the sour, gritty taste refused to leave his mouth.
Alastor wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin and squinted at his glass, inspecting the liquid. A closer look revealed tiny particles floating in the glass.
"Hmm... it seems it's gone bad." He observed, his trademark smile teetering dangerously close to a frown.
"You think?!" Vox quipped.
The radio demon gave him a withering look before snapping his fingers, his shadow immediately darting out of sight. It returned a moment later with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, setting everything neatly on the table. Alastor unscrewed the cap and poured two finger's worth for each of them. Vox accepted his glass with a grateful smile, the bad taste of the champagne still lingering on his tongue.
They clinked their glasses together again before they each took a cautious sip. The liquid burned Vox's throat on the way down, warming his stomach in a familiar way. It was almost enough to give him the courage he needed to press onwards. He fumbled with the box in his pocket nervously.
"So, Al, baby, I wanted to talk to you about something," he started again. "Um, I wanted to ask you something, actually."
"Yes? I'm listening," Alastor grinned, leaning forward with his chin propped up on his hands. Vox's screen glitched as he felt a rising heat travel from his chest up to his neck. His heart was pounding, thudding against his ribcage. He tugged his collar nervously, swallowing hard.
"I wanted to ask--"
The waiter appeared once again, plates of food balanced in hand. A medium rare steak with garlic mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus for Vox, and a blue steak for Alastor. Actually, it was beyond blue, considering the way the blood pooled around the cut. Well, at least it was fresh, and Alastor looked extremely pleased. The radio demon immediately picked up his knife to spear the still-twitching meat, slicing off a bloody chunk with practiced precision.
At that moment, the musicians suddenly appeared, seeming to materialize out of thin air. It was a string quartet, made up of four eel-like sinners. The cellist shot Vox a questioning look, and he nodded, waving his hand for them to start. The violinists began to play, delicate notes filling the air, and the cellist and violist soon followed, shifting the melody towards something classic and undeniably romantic. Alastor watched with wide eyes, a bemused smile on his face as he chewed his food. His gaze slid back over to Vox, who was reaching across the table to grasp at his hand.
Blue tipped claws enveloped Alastor's left hand as Vox took a shaky breath, bracing himself.
"So, this is what I've been trying to tell you all night... Al, these past few years with you as my partner have been like something out of a dream. I never expected to be so happy, in fucking HELL of all places. I don't know what I did to deserve it, or to deserve you."
Alastor's eyes went soft as he leaned forward, watching a light blue flush spread across Vox's screen. The TV demon cleared his throat, momentarily overcome with emotion. Digital tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he squeezed Alastor's hand, a lopsided smile filling his screen.
"I want this, you and me, forever. You make me so happy, sweetheart, and I love you so fucking much. And I just wanted to know..."
It was now, or never.
He steeled himself, taking a deep breath as his antennae sparked.
The music swelled, and Vox finally removed the box from his pocket with shaking hands.
"Alastor, will you marry me?"
His claws popped open the ring box, revealing a beautiful gold band inlaid with diamonds, stones shimmering in the candlelight.
Alastor's eyes widened as he looked at the ring, then Vox, then the musicians surrounding them, and then the ring again. His pupils shrank as his face went pale, smile straining at the corners. A buzz of static interference crackled around his form as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, struggling to form words.
Vox stared at him silently, eyes shining and full of hope. Alastor met his gaze, and inhaled a sharp breath of air as his jaw twitched. He opened his mouth, finally, and everyone held their breath, waiting to whoop and cheer.
"Hmm... no."
The quartet quieted, instruments stuttering to a stop. All except for the violist, who accidentally let one loud, discordant note slip through the tense silence.
Mimzy all but fell out of the rose bush she was hiding in, dusting off her dress while angrily waving at the frozen quartet members.
"Alright, alright, get outta here! Nothin' to see, ya looky loos!" She bellowed, shooing and waving away the stunned eels. They began to gather their instruments to leave, murmuring to each other in concerned voices. Mimzy offered Vox a sympathetic look before scurrying off, leaving the two media demons alone.
Alastor had resumed eating, expression neutral and eyes fixed on his plate as if nothing had occurred.
"Why?"
Vox's voice was brittle, hanging on by a thread.
"Oh, it's very simple. I like things the way they are, and I see no reason for our partnership to change." Alastor explained. He inspected a chunk of meat on his fork and then popped it into his mouth, crunching through bone.
"But... don't you love me?" Vox's voice cracked on the word 'love' and he hated it.
Alastor's eyes snapped up at that, brows furrowed in concern.
"You know I do."
Vox huffed, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration.
"Then... why not marry me?! I fucking love you, and I want to be with you, always, for the rest of my afterlife!"
Alastor raised an eyebrow, ears flicking to the side.
"Well, if that's true, then why do you need a silly little piece of paper to prove it?"
A hiss of steam escaped Vox's vents as his eyes narrowed.
"It's symbolic, Al."
Alastor barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes.
"It's ownership, plain and simple. Really, dear, I didn't expect YOU to be so old fashioned. There's no reason we have to change a thing, and as I said, I enjoy our current arrangement. Oh, what's that phrase? I believe it goes, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'."
Vox's screen glitched as he bit back a scream, frustrated beyond belief at his current situation. Electricity prickled all over his body as his voice wavered.
"I don't want to fucking own you, Al, I want to be with you until we're literal dust, I want--"
At that moment the waiter appeared again, balancing a plate of chantilly cream cake with one hand. He briskly set it down in front of the two overlords, igniting the sparkler stuck on top with a lighter, and Vox's shoulders drooped at the sight. Chocolate syrup was drizzled on the plate to spell out, "Congrats on your Engagement!"
Alastor regarded the cake with an amused expression, eyebrows raised to his hairline. His monocle glinted in the candlelight.
"Ah, chantilly cream... so, you had Mimzy help you with everything, then?" He asked.
"I did." Vox responded flatly. His screen was dimmed and his antennae drooped as he stared down at his food miserably.
"That was a sweet notion, but misguided. The roses, the music, the strawberries and champagne... it would seem this whole endeavor was a proposal for Mimzy!" Alastor chortled a laugh at that, returning to his meal.
A thought sparked into Vox's head then, a tiny glimmer of hope. His antennae perked up suddenly. Was that the real reason he said no? Did he not like the proposal? Maybe Alastor didn't need all the roses or romantic atmosphere... maybe he wanted something simpler, more intimate.
Well, if this was a proposal for Mimzy, then he just needed to put together a proposal that was better suited for Alastor! The gears started turning in his boxy head as he picked at his food, deep in thought as he cooked up a new approach, a custom tailored approach.
Next time, it would be perfect. Next time, he would say yes.
Vox just needed to make him an offer he couldn't refuse.
xxx
xxxxx
xxx
Don't worry guys, box Vox won't be down in the dumps for long! He's already planning his next attempt. Although I do wonder what an Alastor focused proposal will entail... anyways, wish him luck!
If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment! I always love hearing from ya'll. Thank you for reading 🩵❤️
xxx
taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @vitodelaney
Love had opened the door to emotions Alastor had never known. Things that had once been locked up in his undead heart, now spilled out for everyone to see. Desire, passion, adoration... and now, a new feeling:
Jealousy.
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Patience was one of the very few virtues Alastor still possessed.
In life, he had used it as a tool, a methodical calculation for knowing the perfect moment to strike. It had paid off for most of his plans, in the end.
He was patient in his chosen profession, spending years convincing empty-headed producers to take a chance on him with his very own radio show. He had been patient in his hobbies, performing countless rituals in an effort to contact the spirit world and secure his place in Hell. He had been EXTREMELY patient in his plan to free himself of his deal with Rosie, spending literal years working out a solution to earn back his freedom.
So it wasn't a stretch to say Alastor was a patient man. But even the radio demon had his limits.
That limit was rapidly approaching as the grandfather clock struck 11:00, melodic chimes ringing throughout the apartment.
Alastor, one of the most powerful demons in Hell, stood in his kitchen in his silk pajamas and slippers, his crimson hair tied back in a small ponytail and a full wine glass resting in his palm. Irritated static crackled along his form as he tapped his foot rapidly, waiting for any sign that his husband was coming home tonight.
His shadow was long gone, having been sent away on a covert mission to locate and retrieve the noisy picture box. He REFUSED to used their shared frequency again, after his call earlier had gone ignored. Not unanswered, IGNORED, which meant that Vox was not in danger, he was just an asshole.
An asshole that forgot about their dinner plans, apparently.
A beautiful pot of shrimp Étouffée, which had been ready four hours ago, now sat covered on the stove top, long since cooled and congealed into a sticky, gummy mess.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Alastor swirled the wine once before taking a long sip, deciding to call it a night. If Vox showed up at all, he would find the bedroom door locked and the living room couch prepared with a single sad, flat pillow and the thinnest, rattiest blanket Alastor could find. The thought brought a self satisfied smirk to this face, and he drained the remaining wine from the glass. Turning towards the sink, his ears fell flat as his gaze landed on the pile of dishes in the sink, waiting patiently to be washed.
Yes, of course, it was Vox's turn to do the dishes...
Alastor's smile twitched, the corners of his mouth hovering dangerously close to a frown. The nerve of the man, to first miss out on an award winning dinner, worthy of two Michelin stars, and then shirk his most important chore? Which just so happened to be the one Alastor disliked doing the most?!
He briefly considered leaving the dirty dishes for Vox to deal with later, once the food residue had properly crusted to the texture of dried cement. But something about going to bed with dirty dishes in the sink felt so WRONG, like something that would have deeply offended his mother. And as much as he missed her, he didn't need her descending all the way down from Heaven to tug his ear while giving him a sternly worded reminder that he was "raised better than that."
Well, what was the point of having demonic shadow puppets if you couldn't put them to work?
With a snap of his fingers, his staff materialized in his hands. He swung the microphone towards the floor, easily opening a small, dark circle of shadow magic. Five small, beanbag-bodied puppets crawled out of the hole, sharp rows of teeth bared and eyes glowing red.
With a point of his finger, they immediately scampered towards the sink, looking up at the high countertops in confusion. They softly chittered away to each other before starting to climb and balance on each other's shoulders to reach the top of the counter. Little arms stretched forward and the sink faucet turned on, the basin slowly filling with green, glowing bubbles. The two puppets on top took turns scrubbing and rinsing, then handed the dishes off to the last puppet to dry.
It was a lovely display of teamwork... at first.
Suddenly, puppet #1 wobbled, struggling to maintain balance as he aggressively scrubbed a heavy pot. The one holding him up, puppet #2, made a distressed noise as he bumped into his neighbor. Puppet #4 faltered and nearly dropped puppet #3, who sat atop his shoulders. With a glare, puppets 2 and 4 turned to each other and began angrily pointing tiny fingers. The chittering noises quickly descended into loud bickering, and puppets 1 and 3 abandoned their task and began waving their arms aggressively as they joined in the fray. Puppet #5, the dish drier and apparent peacemaker, stood in between the two opposing sides, arms extended to keep them from coming to blows.
Alastor leaned against the counter and poured himself another glass of wine, content to watch the show.
xxx
After a drama filled round of shadow puppet theater-- complete with arguing, fighting, and then a group hug to make up, Alastor dismissed the funny little creatures. They were less than helpful, only having finished half the dishes and cracking a vintage plate in the process, but at least they provided free entertainment.
A cool breeze flowed in from the kitchen window, left open just a crack, and Alastor's shadow suddenly slipped in like a jet of ink. It darted across the walls and hid in the corner, staring at Alastor warily.
Alastor quirked an eyebrow, eyes scanning the shadow. It quivered at the edges, somehow looking... larger than usual.
"Hmm, that took longer than expected... did you get into trouble? What did you find?" Alastor murmured, inclining his head towards the shadow with curiosity. It stared at him for a long moment, unmoving.
"Come now, don't be shy. What do you have there?" Alastor coaxed, voice shifting into something sweet and cloying. "I just want to see, that's all."
The shadow hesitated, then straightened, revealing Vox's boxy shadow hiding next to it. Despite a lack of detailed expression, the shadow somehow managed to look both terrified and remorseful.
Alastor clucked his tongue, unimpressed by the pitiful display.
"Oh, et tu, brute? You were hiding a fugitive, I see. Poor little thing, are you feeling guilty? There's no need to cower like that, I'm not upset with YOU. Where's your--"
He was cut off by a loud popping noise, and the air suddenly shifted. With Alastor's attention occupied, the shadows took their opportunity to scamper away into the darkness of night, hand in hand.
The room filled with the familiar scent of ozone, static electricity prickling on Alastor's skin. With a flash of light, Vox's form fully manifested in the kitchen.
"Honey, I'm home!" He announced, arms extended and sharp blue teeth bared in a winning smile. A recorded soundbite of audience applause played loudly from his speakers.
Alastor rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink without a word. He pulled on a pair of yellow rubber gloves with a snap, then turned the faucet on full blast. His ears flicked as he heard Vox approaching, footsteps clicking on tile.
"You're home late." Alastor said shortly, scrubbing a metal ladle with a sponge much harder than necessary.
"I know, I know..." Vox's tone shifted into something soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry, it was just an absolute shitshow today. Power outages, plumbing issues, bitchy talent... It's like I have to be in five places at once to keep this whole goddamn ship afloat."
His claws came up to rest on Alastor's shoulders, gingerly rubbing up and down. The deer stiffened and turned his head a full 180 degrees, static radiating off his form as he fixed Vox with an icy stare.
To his credit, the TV demon didn't flinch, instead leaning forward to rest his screen against Alastor's forehead as his tired eyes closed. A tiny zap of electricity crackled between them, and Alastor's expression softened.
"Al, baby... don't be mad at me, okay? It was a rough day." Vox pleaded, arms encircling his husband's waist. Alastor's entire body turned, leaning into the touch despite himself. His infuriating tail even wagged, the traitor.
"You missed dinner." Alastor grumbled, even as he relaxed into the embrace. Stupid, affectionate picture box... he hated how hard it was to stay mad at him. It was one of his most annoying features.
"I'm sorry. I'm sure it was amazing." Vox nuzzled his heated screen against Alastor's nose, antennae sparking.
"Mmhm, it was." Alastor agreed, eyes fluttering closed. He reached up and cupped the bottom corners of Vox's bulky head, pulling him closer. For a long moment, they simply kissed, shared static enveloping the two as they melted into each other.
Alastor pulled back first, pecking the warm screen once more before turning his attention back to the sink.
Vox stepped forward and bumped Alastor's hip with his own, occupying the spot next to him at the sink. He took a soapy dish from his husband's hands, rinsing it and then wiping it dry with a dish cloth. Wordlessly, they settled into a comfortable pattern. Scrub, rinse, dry.
Vox heaved an exaggerated sigh, air whooshing from his vents as his antennae drooped.
"I think I should look into hiring a full time assistant, just to keep everything organized. Janet's been on vacation for two fucking weeks now, and things are starting to slip through the cracks. I missed a meeting today because I didn't even know it had been rescheduled. Those kinds of mistakes add up over time, you know." He dried a spoon, staring at his reflection in the polished silver before setting it down.
Alastor hummed, rinsing the last pot with a flourish.
"I think that's a fine idea, dear. You could do with another pair of helping hands." He agreed.
Vox chuckled nervously, towel lingering a little longer than usual on the last dish. He gingerly set it down on the drying rack.
"Heh... funny you should mention that. I'm actually going to have two extra pairs of helping hands from now on."
Alastor's head turned to the side with a crack, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Pardon?"
"That's why I was late, I was ironing out a business contract with Valentino. He'll be one of our new associates..."
It was like a physical blow. Alastor twisted his body and stepped back, the small of his back meeting the kitchen counter. He had met the flashy moth before, at some horrible business convention that Vox had participated in. The gold toothed insect had ogled his husband in a way that made his skin crawl. And worse, he was aware of the kind of 'business' the man conducted out of his seedy studio on the edges of the Entertainment district.
"The pornography peddler?!" He said shrilly, nose scrunched in disgust.
Vox made an offended noise, electrical interference crackling with a loud beep, and crossed his arms defensively.
"Hey! He makes erotic films, actually! And he's been doing really well down here. I've been monitoring his growth, and it's incredible for a new arrival! Sex sells, of course, but he's ready for the next level. He can make us a shit ton of money, and I can help him expand into new territory!"
"Oh, yes, I'm sure he would love to expand himself into new territory." Alastor grumbled under his breath.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, my dear! I'm sure the two of you will get along swimmingly. You'll need to spend a lot of time working closely together, of course."
Alastor's tone had turned into something sarcastic and artificial, and Vox raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"I mean, obviously, I have to promote him as a part of our brand..." Vox said slowly.
Alastor nodded, ruby eyes narrowing even as his smile widened.
"Naturally, you'll have to supervise the set of each film to make sure they're up to par. So I imagine the two of you will be quite inseparable."
Vox heaved a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.
"I mean, not really... I can approve the final cut, but I think he knows what he's doing."
"Does he?" Alastor said sharply. "Your work day ended at 6pm and it's 11pm now. Did it take five whole hours for him to sign the contract? Does he know how to read, or did you have to draw little shapes?"
"Well, you have to fully review it, and then we can make amendments or add clauses." Vox explained patiently.
"After that, the lawyers need to review and approve it, which takes time. And once everything is set is stone, sure, we had one celebratory drink while we discussed the next steps. It's pretty standard in business..."
"If you wanted to make and distribute pornography, why didn't you just kill him and do it yourself?!"
"Because then I'd have to actually do it, and I'd be home late every goddamn day. More so than usual. Al, listen, he knows the business and has a lot of great ideas. I'll pay for supplies and marketing, he'll write, direct, and produce the content, and we'll both make buckets of money. AND I get to come home to my grumpy husband on time."
"Except for tonight. Because you were staying late, drinking with the moth. Why not send me a message to let me know? I wouldn't have wasted an entire dinner waiting for you to not even bother showing up."
Vox groaned, stepping forward to clasp both of Alastor's hands in his. He raised them up to his screen, electricity prickling along Alastor's skin.
"Sweetheart, bambi, love of my afterlife--" he kissed his husband's knuckles with each pet name. "I've apologized like five times already, I said I was sorry! I was sitting with lawyers trying to make a monumental business deal, and I didn't want to get distracted and make a mistake. I was just caught up in the excitement and Val was--"
Alastor yanked his hands away, ears pinning back as his antlers cracked and expanded, glowing green stitches appearing at the corners of his smile.
"Oh, I'm sure you were! It's all very exciting, isn't it, being with someone new! Are you so familiar you can call him Val, now?" He spat.
Vox paused, eyes searching over Alastor's face in confusion. Then, the realization hit him like a truck.
"Are you... are you jealous?" He asked incredulously.
"Of that big purple buffoon? Certainly not." Alastor said quickly, antlers shrinking back to normal and stitches disappearing. He avoided Vox's gaze, crossing his arms stubbornly.
Vox blinked, expression slowly morphing from hurt to fascination.
"Oh my god, you are!" Vox was delighted, a dopey grin nearly splitting his screen.
"Is your auditory processor malfunctioning? I just said I wasn't." Alastor hissed.
"Oh, that's so cute..." Vox cooed. Alastor glanced over and found Vox staring at him with an expression of such overwhelming affection, it made the radio demon's teeth hurt.
"You are treading very thin ice, Vox." Alastor's voice was low, but held no malice. Vox sighed, stepping forward to wrap Alastor up in a crushing hug, lifting him a few inches off the floor.
Alastor resisted for only a moment before he relaxed into the embrace, pressing his cheek to Vox's chest. His ears flicked as he listened to the heartbeat within, half biological, half mechanical.
"Al, baby... you know I only have eyes for you." Vox said softly.
"Yes, but what about the rest of you?" Alastor's voice was slightly muffled by the fabric of Vox's suit.
"All yours, forever. Which you knew already. You're my partner, you're my husband. Come on, don't you trust me?" Vox's voice had an undercurrent of hurt, which Alastor hated.
Of course he trusted him, he wouldn't have married him and put his entire soul in his hands if he didn't! There was no one he trusted more. But unfortunately, that also meant there was no one who could hurt him more. And that realization was terrifying in a way he couldn't describe.
"I do... but he's the one I don't trust. I don't like the way he looks at you."
He hated how whiny his voice sounded. He hated that he craved Vox's reassurance. Of all the weaknesses and vulnerabilities that came with love, his own need for comfort was one of the worst.
Suddenly, he felt the sensation of Vox's frequency enveloping his own, attempting to soothe him as they intertwined together in a shared melody.
Vox began rubbing his back in small circles, tips of his claws scratching slightly against his silk pajamas.
"He can look all he wants, I don't care. I'm still not about to risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me. That's a promise." He said firmly.
"Doesn't he secrete hormonal vapors? You may not have a choice in the matter." Alastor pointed out.
"No nose, remember? The pheromones don't affect me."
Alastor huffed in frustration, refusing to concede. Though he knew he was beaten, and he was sure Vox knew it, too.
"I'm sure he'll think of something else..." he mumbled.
"Sweetheart, you're worrying yourself over nothing." Vox insisted. "Our arrangement is strictly professional, no lines will ever be crossed. And if they are... you can eat him. You'd have my express permission. Deal?"
Alastor's ears perked up.
"Deal." He said immediately, wiggling free from the embrace to offer his hand properly. Vox wore a lopsided smile as he clasped his hand with Alastor's, and a tiny ribbon of green magic enveloped their handshake. It quickly dissipated into a puff of smoke, effectively binding the deal.
Alastor sighed in relief, immediately feeling more at ease. Vox reached up to trace a claw down his husband's cheek affectionately, screen shining bright.
"There, it's official. Now, just relax, no need to get yourself so worked up... that's my job." Vox's voice dropped an octave. Alastor shivered, feeling the static shift around them.
Their frequencies pitched lower, vibrating in the space between their bodies.
"Is that right?" Alastor purred, looping his arms around Vox's neck. His eyes went half lidded, ruby irises observing as a light blue flush crept over Vox's screen. Suddenly, he gasped as the TV demon bent down and scooped him up in one fluid motion, holding him tightly against his body. Alastor's legs wrapped around his torso instinctively as he felt his tail start wagging again.
"Mmhm, it seems like I've been neglecting my duties, though." Vox nuzzled Alastor's nose with his screen, lightly zapping him. "Don't worry, I'll just have to make it up to you."
"Promise?"
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god I love married!radiostatic SO MUCH they are husbands and they LOVE each other 😭😭😭
I don't think Alastor would feel threatened by much, since Vox is so obviously devoted to him, but the thought of someone working closely with his husband day after day (especially someone so bold and flirty), would definitely ring some alarm bells in his mind. He's definitely going to be making more frequent visits to Vee Tower to make sure his presence is known, and to ragebait Val for good measure.
It was an unusually warm night in Pentagram City. The TV and radio demon's shared apartment was stuffy, but not unbearable. Alastor lounged on one end of the large burgundy couch with his legs tucked underneath him, absently flipping the yellowed pages of a book.
His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his crimson hair was tied back in a small ponytail, allowing the fan perched in the window to cool the back of his neck.
Alastor was only half paying attention to the words in the book, eyes instead glancing up to watch the TV at the opposite end of the room.
It was currently playing a pre-recorded segment of the evening news, which often featured a short appearance from Vox himself. Though he had long since moved on from being a news anchor, he couldn't resist reprising his role in a special segment to cover any unique or breaking stories.
Alastor never missed it. Of course, he would never openly admit to watching TV, but he couldn't help feeling drawn in by Vox's voice and charisma. Even if they were married for 100 years, Vox would charm him again and again. His heart skipped a beat as he watched Vox wink at him from the fuzzy screen.
Alastor's ears flicked at the sound of keys jangling at the front door, which broke him out of his reverie. He scrambled to grab the remote from the coffee table to switch the TV off, before darting back to perch on the couch again.
The door clicked open just as he settled back in his original spot, looking very nonchalant as he flipped the pages of his book.
"Over here, darling." He responded, closing the book and setting it on the armrest of the couch.
Heavy footsteps approached, and Vox's figure appeared in the doorway, head obscured by a giant bouquet of roses stuffed in an ornate vase.
"I have a surprise for youuu..." Vox sang, taking a wobbly step into the room.
Alastor's brows furrowed in confusion as he tilted his head to the side.
"Blood red roses? On a day that isn't an anniversary or a birthday? That's... mildly surprising." His eyes scanned the bouquet suspiciously, and he craned his neck to try to peer around the side of the flowers.
"Well, that's not the whole surprise." Vox huffed, struggling to balance the large mass of flowers as he took a few steps to the side. He turned to rest the bouquet on the credenza, then quickly spun to face Alastor, arms held out dramatically like a showman.
"Ta-dah! So, what do you think?" He announced, gesturing excitedly to his head.
The large, boxy TV set was gone, replaced by a sleek, grey flat screen. It was still square in shape, but much less bulky than before. Tiny buttons and ports lined the bottom of his plastic casing and vents decorated the back.
Alastor immediately recoiled from his spot on the couch, hissing like an angry housecat.
"What the HELL have you done to your head?!" He shrieked.
"It's called a flatscreen, baby! Top of the line." Vox bragged, rotating his head a full 360 degrees. He started listing off the features like a car salesman.
"Check out this picture, crystal clear! No fuzziness or dead pixels, high definition, vibrant color saturation. And just listen to the audio! I've never sounded better! Look, I have all the best channels!"
He flipped through multiple programs on his screen, eager to demonstrate every new trick.
Alastor's eyes narrowed as the screen switched back to Vox's pleased expression.
"It's very... modern." He said flatly. With that, the radio demon settled back into the couch cushions, patted the throw pillows, and reopened his book with a flourish.
Vox visibly deflated, shoulders slumping just a bit.
"Don't be like that, Al. You'll get used to it. Just give it a chance!" He insisted.
"Hmm, no." Alastor said primly, turning a page.
Vox paused, an idea forming in his mind. A sly smile crept over his face.
"Actually, I think in time you'll start to prefer my new style... here, why don't you take a closer look?" Vox leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.
Alastor glared at him from the top of his book.
"What? I just think you need to get up close and personal to appreciate the whole thing." Vox winked at him and took one step forward.
Alastor slammed his book closed, eyes now fully black with glowing red pupils. "You stay BACK. You can't use affection to change my mind." He hissed.
Vox took one step forward, staring straight at Alastor in silent challenge. Neither of them blinked, the audible static intensifying between them. Then he took another step.
Alastor snarled as his antlers expanded, black tentacles springing from his back in defense. Vox didn't even flinch, knowing it was an empty threat.
He advanced forward slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, hands held up in surrender.
"Don't be so dramatic--"
A tentacle flung a TV remote, which he quickly dodged as it missed the top of his screen.
"--it's not even a big deal--"
His body twisted sideways to avoid the two throw pillows launched in his direction.
'--babe, you are being RIDICULOUS right now--"
He was cut off as Alastor's house slipper hit him square in the face. He rubbed the scuff mark in the middle of his screen, instantly flushing a bright cyan color.
"Hey, quit it! You're overreacting, it's the same as a fucking haircut!" He shouted, glaring at the deer.
Alastor snickered and rolled his eyes, antlers shrinking and tentacles retracting back into his body. His eyes faded back to normal as he regarded the TV demon with an unimpressed look.
"Oh? How is it even remotely the same? Hair grows BACK, idiot." Alastor retorted.
Vox blinked twice, thoughts visibly computing on his screen. He shook his head and took a final step forward, kneeling in front of Alastor.
"You're completely missing the point, sweetheart. This is an upgrade!" He stressed, reaching out to clasp Alastor's hands in his own. The radio demon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"And what was wrong with your old head?" He asked, eyes noting each difference in the new one. His nose wrinkled-- it even smelled different.
"It was old, Al. Outdated. I gotta keep up with the times if I want to keep the people's interest." Vox explained, stroking his thumb in soothing circles over the top of Alastor's hand.
In truth, Vox had waited a long time to switch. The box TVs had gone out of style years ago, and it was getting harder and harder to find replacement parts when he needed them.
"Such a shame... I had grown quite attached to it." Alastor sighed, eyes going glassy as he stared down at their hands.
"I know, and you don't like change." Vox nodded, a lopsided smile spreading over his screen.
Alastor's eyebrows creased as he shook his head, a frustrated noise escaping his throat.
"It's not a small change, Vox. It's almost like you're another version of yourself. Upgraded, brand new, different." Alastor said quietly.
Vox studied his husband's face, trying to process his concerns. After a moment, he squeezed Alastor's hands gently, then raised them up to his new screen.
Slowly, he pressed a kiss against every individual knuckle, lips causing tiny zaps with each brush of contact. Alastor shuddered, eyes going half lidded as he watched the electricity prickle across his hands.
"That feels the same as before, right?" Vox asked.
Alastor only nodded, words stuck in his throat. Vox released Alastor's hands and leaned forward, cupping the deer's cheeks with his palms. Alastor's nose bumped against the glass of Vox's screen before their lips met, static intensifying as they shared a long, smoldering kiss.
Vox pulled back slightly, meeting Alastor's ruby gaze again. "That feels the same too, right?"
Alastor nodded breathlessly.
"So, if it all feels the same, it must still be me, right?" Vox continued. "The outside may look different, but I'm still me on the inside. The same person I always was, the one that loves you. That won't change, trust me."
Alastor sighed, reaching his hands up to caress the unfamiliar casing of Vox's new head. The ridges and bumps were different than what his fingers remembered, but it could all be re-mapped in time. And his funny antennae were still the same. He bopped one of them with a finger, watching a heart shaped burst of electricity spark off the end.
"Oh, fine... I suppose I'll get used to it. Eventually." He conceded, shaking his head. Vox grinned, climbing up onto the couch and pulling his husband onto his lap in one fluid movement. Alastor yelped in surprise before dissolving into laughter, nuzzling his face with Vox's screen as they kissed.
He wrapped his arms around Vox's neck as his husband held him tightly, pressing their bodies flush together. One kiss turned into two, then three, then five. They finally broke apart, both of them gasping for breath.
Vox chuckled, his vents releasing a puff of steam.
"I should tell you, my body didn't change. Just in case you were worried about missing any other parts of me..." Vox teased, resting his hands on Alastor's waist as he ground his hips upwards.
"Really, it's amazing to me how you can still fit all your depraved thoughts in a smaller amount of space." Alastor observed, eyes crinkling in amusement.
"Actually, I upgraded my memory drives too, so now I have plenty of room to log every dirty fantasy that crosses my mind! In fact, I have a few I wanted to share right now..." Vox gave him a wicked grin before standing up suddenly, Alastor still held in his arms.
"Let's go test the settings on this thing."
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Domestic, fluffy, silly Married!Radiostatic, my beloved 🩷
I wasn't kidding when I said this is my favorite thing to write, they are in LOVE your honor!
Obviously, Hell was known for being hot. It was kind of a main feature of the location, along with all the fire and brimstone. Luckily, most sinners acclimated to the temperature fairly quickly, and it became just another accepted quirk of their afterlife, along with the unusually high rates of crime and violence.
This particular week had been different, though. A record heat wave had caught Pentagram City in a vice grip, leaving its residents in varying levels of agony. Shoes melted into puddles on the sidewalk, skin began to crackle and sizzle with prolonged sun exposure, and the intense humidity pretty much guaranteed every resident a nasty case of swamp ass. Even Hell's bird population was suffering, with the little abominations living in fear of spontaneously transforming into fried chicken. Overall, it was safer to just stay indoors, preferably parked in front of an A/C unit that was cranked to full blast.
The media overlords had spent the entire day doing just that, locked in their living room in varying states of undress. For hours, they huddled in front of the only A/C unit present in the apartment, hoping the temperature would drop as night approached.
But as dusk crept over the city, the heat only lingered... and intensified. Unwilling to camp out in their living room overnight (the velvet couch was terrible to sleep on), their solution was to have six standing fans plugged into their bedroom outlet, whirring at full speed. Despite the risk of causing a power outage for the entire building, it still wasn't enough.
"This fucking sucks." Vox grumbled, laying flat on the bed with his limbs splayed out like a starfish. The heavy covers had long since been kicked off the mattress, and he wore only a pair of VoxTek brand boxers, complete with a repeating shark fin design.
Alastor returned from the bathroom, his hair and ears wrapped up in a thin towel. His hooves clicked across the floor as he made his way to the bed, wearing a set of pink silk pajamas.
"How was your ice bath?" Vox asked, turning his screen to face his husband.
"The water never turned cold," Alastor griped, settling on his side of the bed. He unwrapped the towel and scrunched the ends of his damp crimson hair. "It stayed hot. The entire time. And someone never returned with the ice!"
At that precise moment, Alastor's shadow did return, carrying a large bag that probably contained ice at one point. However, it was now a bag of hot water. The shadow itself seemed a bit miffed, and upon closer inspection, the edges of the dark figure seemed to be smoking.
Alastor's eyes narrowed as he flicked the towel into a pocket dimension.
"You were gone for nearly an hour, what took so long? And where's the ice?" He said sharply.
The shadow chittered, waving its arms in annoyance.
"Only fifteen stores? Well, that still doesn't explain--"
More rapid squeaking and hand gestures.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean! You are a shadow, you physically don't have any limbs to burn!"
The chittering intensified in volume as the shadow grew in height, pointing aggressively. Alastor's posture grew rigid as his eyes turned dark. The lights in the room flickered as his form began to distort with static.
"Don't take that ugly tone with me, you insolent little--"
"Whoa, hey, okay!" Vox sat straight up in bed, raising his hands up like a referee. "I think the heat has everyone a liiiittle on edge... Maybe you two should just take a minute to cool down, huh?"
Alastor blinked, then glanced over at Vox's concerned expression. His shoulders slumped and his ears fell to the side.
"Fine. Go on, then." He muttered, crossing his arms.
The shadow dropped the bag of hot water and scampered towards the door, pausing only to grab Vox's shadow by the hand. The two inky shapes then bolted out of sight, leaving Alastor to stare at the steaming bag on the floor.
"My shadow used to be so well behaved... always followed orders, never back talked... this is your fault, you know." Alastor grumbled, snapping his neck in Vox's direction.
"Wha--me?! How?" Vox sputtered, eyes going wide with surprise.
"Your shadow has been corrupting mine for years, I just know it!" Alastor accused, jabbing his husband's bare chest with a finger.
Vox rolled his eyes and caught Alastor's hand, bringing it up to his screen for a quick, electric kiss.
"Oh come on, babe... don't be silly. I think it's just grumpy because it got a little singed from the heat. You two will make up tomorrow, don't even worry about it." Vox said soothingly.
Alastor sighed and fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes. The fans continued to circulate air throughout the room, but his forehead remained beaded with sweat.
"That's assuming we don't perish from the heat by then." Alastor said dryly.
"Neither of us are going to die from this, trust me." Vox reclined against the pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. Alastor tilted his head, seemingly unconvinced.
"Hmm... if you say so, dear. I think it's best if we just call it a night." Alastor snapped his fingers, and the soft yellow lamps in their bedroom shut off one by one. Vox's screen glowed bright blue in the darkness before dimming to night mode.
Alastor turned on his side, squeezing his eyes shut and snuggling into his plush pillow as he attempted to think cold, icy thoughts...
"Al, why are you so far away? Get over here." Vox's voice interrupted his concentration. He cracked one red eye open to find Vox staring expectantly at him.
"No, darling. It's far too hot to cuddle tonight." He said firmly, then closed his eyes again.
"Don't be dramatic, we're in Hell-- it's always hot, and you always let me hold you." Vox pointed out.
"Yes, well, consider this an exception due to... extreme circumstances."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please? Please please please--"
Alastor huffed, opening both eyes to glare at Vox properly.
"You will literally overheat, Vox."
"It's worth it! Come on, I can't sleep if we don't cuddle. Is that what you want?" Vox made a pitiful expression, eyes filled with digital tears.
"That is a terrible lie, and we both know it." Alastor said flatly, smile wearing thin at the edges.
"Well, I sleep better when we do, it's probably a psychological thing. Actually, they've done studies on cuddling, and it's good for you! Mentally, physically... and you like it too, even if you pretend you don't." Vox continued.
Alastor only hummed in response, unwilling to confirm or deny.
"Come on, pleeease--" Vox whined.
"FINE," Alastor snapped. "You are allowed five minutes. No more than that, I mean it..."
Vox immediately reached over and hooked an arm around Alastor's waist, dragging him closer. He pulled the radio demon flush against his body, draping an arm across his hip and resting his claws on the small of his back. Despite himself, Alastor found himself wiggling closer into the embrace, resting his cheek against Vox's chest.
It was unbearably hot, yes, but it was comfortable and soothing at the same time. He could hear the steady rhythm of Vox's heartbeat under his skin, and feel the inhale and exhale of every breath he took. He felt himself relax into his husband's touch as a claw traced up his back, drawing random shapes on the silk fabric. Their individual frequencies lowered and then intermixed, tangling together in a pattern only the two of them could hear and recognize.
Something about having Vox so close to him, wrapped around his body like a blanket... it did make Alastor feel safe and secure in a way nothing else could. He could feel himself growing warmer, his skin growing damp with sweat, but he was simply too comfortable to care. He allowed himself to melt into Vox, content to become a big puddle of limbs for the foreseeable future.
"You know, I think you'd feel a lot cooler if you were naked..." Vox suggested innocently.
"...don't push it, Vincent."
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this was just a little warm up so I could get back into writing again (work kicked my fuckin ass this week rip) and I thought this snippet was cute so I wanted to share!! I truly believe in my heart that Vox is desperate for cuddles, no matter the cost. He did overheat after this but it was definitely worth it ❤️🩵
ANYWAY I'm hoping to have another fic update for ya'll tomorrow, just not sure which one yet lol. the way my brain works continues to be a mystery to everyone including myself...
Every summer, like clockwork, Vox took an entire week off from work. It was one of the rare times he was completely unplugged from the world-- unavailable to be reached through phone call, fax, or email.
His VoxTek employees were given strict instructions on how to handle daily operations in his absence, under threat of dismemberment as penalty for any failures. The day before his departure, the entire staff was reminded again via a strongly worded email that any urgent (read: life or death) messages would have to be sent via snail mail or carrier pigeon, because Vox had made himself very, very clear: do not disturb.
This yearly sabbatical was not used as a romantic vacation, or an escape to the boiling sulfur beaches of Hell. In fact, he rarely even left his own little slice of Pentagram City. No, this one week in summer was reserved for one thing, and one thing only.
Shark Week.
xxx
Since 1988, Shark Week had transformed from an exciting TV special into a sacred holiday in the Media overlord's household. For the entire duration of the event, the curtains were drawn, the smell of freshly buttered popcorn wafted through the air, and the TV guide schedule was meticulously circled and highlighted by hand. Vox took most things seriously, but he was especially particular about his own entertainment. And with a shortage of "real" sharks and saltwater oceans in Hell, there was no way he was missing out on a single minute of this hallowed event.
From dawn until dusk, Vox would park his rear end on the living room couch and watch the pirated earth programming with stars in his eyes, captivated by every scene. His husband, the radio demon, was decidedly less enthused... as if it wasn't enough that his cozy little living room was effectively transformed into a home movie theater, but his husband was entirely M.I.A. during his favorite shows. Good luck asking him for help with anything while he was glued to the screen like a zombie.
He imagined this was what some people meant by marriage being a series of compromises. For example, Alastor was allowed to choose the wallpaper he liked for their bedroom, and Vox was allowed to hole up in their living room like a rabid squirrel for a solid week out of the year.
Nevertheless, he was supportive of his husband and his ridiculous quirks... in a resigned and slightly exasperated sort of way. It wouldn't be so bad if Shark Week wasn't so incredibly BORING, save for the occasional seal attack footage. It still wasn't enough to make him sit for hours like Vox did.
So, Alastor would pop in and out of the living room multiple times a day, usually to bring a refill of snacks so Vox wouldn't starve. If he was feeling lonely, he might perch on one end of the couch for a while and offer biting commentary on the current program's host or storyline, waving his staff around to emphasize his points. If he was feeling snarky, he might observe that Vox was wearing a groove into the couch, or that his brain was likely turning to mush from hours of uninterrupted TV rot. None of the comments phased Vox, though, as most interactions quickly descended in a barrage of newly acquired shark facts.
"Hey, did you know that bull sharks can survive in both saltwater and freshwater? Their bodies have adapted to balance and retain salts in their bodies, it's called osmoregulation! So they can be found in the ocean but ALSO rivers and lakes--"
"Guess what, they're doing a study on lemon sharks to try and prove natal philopatry! That's when an animal returns to their birthplace to reproduce again, did you know that? If the theory is proven to be right, that could teach us so much--"
"Al! They finally were able to photograph the Greenland shark, alive, underwater! It was 6 fucking meters long! Those sharks are ancient, they can live to be hundreds of years old. Isn't that insane? And did you know--"
Alastor did know, actually. Because Vox had told him every shark fact he knew, many times.
Of course, he was tolerant of Vox's monologues, mostly because he secretly loved to hear his husband talk. When the picture box was excited, his eyes went comically large and his antennae crackled with electricity. He talked with his hands, making exuberant gestures as he rambled. It was very sweet, and very endearing, and one of the first things that made Alastor first realize that he was falling for him.
But a whole week of uninterrupted shark facts would wear on anyone, and four days into the annual ritual of Shark Week, Alastor was starting to feel a distinct craving for something he usually received in abundance... attention.
After years of playing second fiddle to some silly television program in his own household, Alastor decided enough was enough. It was high time for Vox to take a little break from his favorite program.
The question was, what could possibly distract him?
He wracked his brain for an hour before he found the answer staring back at him in the mirror-- he was Vox's biggest weakness. And luckily, manipulating Vox was an art form in which Alastor was a master. After years of practice, he knew the right buttons to press to get exactly what he wanted.
So, the radio demon started small, passing by the couch nonchalantly with his hair tied back in a small ponytail. Granted, it was a small change, but it usually piqued Vox's interest. Except this time, he noted with disappointment.
Next, he drifted by the couch with his suit jacket removed, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal the soft black fur that stretched all the way up to his elbows. Nothing, not even a second glance.
Rapidly approaching a state of frustration, he decided to park himself on the couch next to Vox, legs crossed and bare hooves on full display. He even wiggled them a little, hoping to catch the TV demon's eye. Vox was ALWAYS a sucker for his hooves, always desperate to touch and rub and worship for reasons Alastor couldn't understand. But Vox's gaze remained stuck to the screen as the host droned on about shark migration patterns.
Irritated, Alastor stood up in a huff and stomped towards the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need for a stiff drink. He rummaged through the bottles in the cabinets while his shadow helpfully retrieved a glass and some ice from the refrigerator.
"Hey, Al?" Vox suddenly called from the couch. Alastor quickly poked his head back through the archway, red eyes wide with surprise. His shadow peeked around curiously, too.
"Yes?" He responded, internally cringing at how hopeful his voice sounded.
"Could you make me some pizza rolls while you're in there, please?" Vox asked, eyes never leaving the screen.
Alastor's ears flattened against his head as a low growl rumbled from his throat, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. The man had ignored him for four days, and now he had the audacity to ask for pizza rolls?! His antlers expanded with a crack, threatening to scrape against the ceiling.
Enough of this! Desperate times had called for desperate measures. He retreated back into the kitchen and downed his drink in one long gulp, savoring the burn that traveled down his throat and into his belly. The time had come. He had no choice but to use his secret weapon.
xxx
Located in the very back of the radio demon's closet, there was an article of clothing that he had purchased years ago in a fit of insecurity. After 20 years of marriage, and the addition of a certain sex obsessed moth to VoxTek's roster of talent, Alastor had been feeling a little... self conscious.
It was silly, he knew, but a tiny nugget of fear had lodged itself in his brain, plaguing him with worrisome thoughts about Vox getting bored of him. He knew the moth was restricted from crossing any lines, physically, but the deal had not restricted Vox in the same way. What if his hypnotic eye started to wander, what if he wanted to seek out something more exciting?
He had stupidly voiced these concerns to Mimzy during happy hour, shortly after he had tried something she recommended called a "strawberry margarita." It was as delicious as it was strong, so of course he enjoyed four of them before promptly spilling his guts out over the table. His oldest friend had immediately called for an emergency shopping spree, ushering the drunken deer into the nearest mall.
Everyday sinners screamed and fled at the sight of the radio demon, although he looked a little more disheveled and a little less scary than usual. Mimzy patted his arm comfortingly as she led him to the escalator, allowing him to lean on her for support. She paid no mind to the sinners that scurried out of their path, shopping bags clutched in hand.
"Sweetie, that loudmouth TV man is crazy about you! But if you're so worried, you just need to give him a little reminder of what he's got waiting at home... and that's nothin' a little retail therapy can't fix!" Mimzy proclaimed, before dragging him by the elbow into a store he would never be caught dead in.
His vision was doubled, but he could still faintly make out the pink striped walls and the shapes of some very busty mannequins in risqué attire. He felt like he had been transported into someone's boudoir, and his initial instinct was to flee the scene immediately. However, Mimzy continued to hold his arm in a vice grip, leading him further into the heavily perfumed cloud of sex and fantasy that lingered over the store.
A very nervous retail associate asked if they needed help, which Mimzy exuberantly accepted, waving at Alastor animatedly as she chatted the poor sinner's ear off. He briefly considered melting into a puddle on the floor to escape, but he doubted his powers would cooperate in his current state. Mimzy set to work immediately, digging through the drawers to find an assortment of skimpy, lacy items that made Alastor's cheeks burn. He wasn't sure who was more embarrassed, himself or the retail associate who kept averting her eyes whenever he looked in her direction.
As he was corralled into the fitting room, he briefly questioned the life choices that had led him to this point, standing in a woman's dressing room with an armful of lingerie. He sighed, deciding to suck it up and trust the process, uncomfortable as it was. Even if Mimzy had questionable decision making skills, he did trust her opinion on what looked nice on him. She had no reason to lie, after all, and his own interest in fashion had waned since the 1930s.
"Aw, dollface, you look absolutely stunnin' in this!" Mimzy squealed a few minutes later, as he awkwardly turned in the mirror. He stumbled only a little bit over his own hooves.
"Are you... quite sure?" He murmured, eyes squinting at his reflection. Even with the haziness of tequila altering his brain, "stunning" was not the word he would have used. Tart, floozy, and streetwalker came to mind.
"Oh yeah, a hundred percent, this one's a show stopper. He's gonna love this on you." She reassured him. Alastor's bleary eyes took one look at Mimzy, face lit up like a Christmas tree, and then drifted back to the mirror. He turned once more with a slight wobble, staring at his unfamilar reflection, and heaved a sigh.
He supposed it was worth a try.
xxx
The item had lived in their closet since that day, carefully hidden away from Vox. The opportunity to wear it never seemed to come around, anyway. His deepest fears were unfounded, as Vox remained as devoted and loving a husband as ever. Valentino seemed to respect his boundaries, mostly, whether out of fear for his own life or respect for their marriage. Alastor was willing to bet it was the former. Even his worries about their romantic life growing stale over time were disproven, as Vox showed no signs of being bored or slowing down-- quite the opposite, really.
But maybe, after years of gathering dust in the closet, he had finally found the right occasion to wear this sinful little item. He removed the slip of clothing from its hanger, running his fingertips along the smooth, silky fabric.
A show stopper, hmm? That was exactly what he needed.
xxx
Minutes later, he sauntered into the living room, a fluffy robe wrapped loosely around his body. His crimson hair was brushed and fluffed around his face, and his monocle had been removed and left on his bedside table. His bare hooves clicked across the floorboards with every step.
The TV was still blaring, as the narrator recounted the events of a diving encounter with a group of hammerhead sharks. Alastor leaned his hip against the entryway, arms crossed as he watched the show scenes reflecting off Vox's screen. How silly, for his picture box to spend the entire day in front of another picture box! He noted with distaste that the TV demon hadn't even gotten fully dressed, choosing instead to stay in the same 'Jaws' t-shirt and flannel pajama pants from the night before. Or had it been the night before that?
The sky beyond the windows had long since transformed from red to purple, and the room was now bathed in darkness, save for the two lit up TV screens. The radio demon snapped his fingers, and a small lamp on the half moon table to his right flickered on, illuminating his form in warm yellow light.
Vox blinked, eyes hazy and strained from overuse, and turned his head towards the light with a squint.
"Oh, hey Al." His voice was raspy from disuse, a rare thing to hear in this household.
"Hello, dear. Having fun with your show?" Alastor asked, his tone soft as velvet.
Vox's screen brightened immediately, the way it always did when he was excited about something, and Alastor felt a rush of pure fondness squeeze his little black heart.
"Yeah! The divers on this one are studying the formation of the hammerhead shark's head and how it navigates the water, and--"
As he spoke, Alastor decided it was time to strike. He fiddled with his robe, untying the sash. It fell open briefly, and he tugged the robe tighter around his middle before retying the knot. It was a sneaky maneuver, but it was enough. The brief glimpse of black silk and lace underneath the robe had Vox's brain stuttering to a complete halt.
Alastor watched, a mischievous grin creeping across his face, as Vox's words stammered into nothing, his mouth choosing to drop open instead. Then his screen glitched, a burst of electricity sparking from his antennae. When his display flickered back to normal, his eyes were wide with wonder, unable to believe what he had just seen.
"Al, baby..." Vox breathed. "W-what are you wearing?"
Alastor lifted his eyes to the ceiling in feigned innocence, one hand lifted to press against his chest.
"Me? Oh, nothing special... it's certainly not as interesting as your silly television program, I'm sure." He drawled, then tilted his head to inspect his nails.
Vox continued to stare, unblinking, his screen now slightly fuzzy with static.
"Anyway, I just wanted to say goodnight, so... goodnight, darling." Alastor blew a kiss in Vox's direction, then turned on his heel to leave, tail swishing behind him.
"Wait, bambi, wait! Don't go, come back here!" Vox pleaded, a hint of desperation in his voice.
Alastor paused for a long moment, then glanced over his shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as his ears flicked forward in interest.
He was just too easy.
"No, no, I would hate to interrupt your show..."
Vox shook his head quickly, reaching out his arms in an open invitation.
"It's a commercial, you're not interrupting shit. Just... come here. Please."
Alastor lingered in the doorway for a moment, pretending to consider.
"Well... since you asked so nicely..."
Alastor twisted back towards Vox, relishing the rapt expression on his face. He took a few slow, purposeful steps towards the couch, arms crossed behind his back. Once he stepped close enough, Vox leaned forward and hooked his claws around the loops of the robe, tugging him the last couple of steps forward. Alastor allowed himself to be pulled onto his husband's lap, legs slotting easily on either side of Vox's hips as he sat, resting his hands on his chest. He could feel the rapid thrum of Vox's heartbeat underneath the worn fabric of his 'Jaws' t-shirt.
The radio demon leaned forward, and pressed his lips to the warm glass of Vox's screen, enjoying the prickle that always came with it. His husband responded immediately, groaning into the kiss as he fisted the fabric of Alastor's robe, pulling him closer. The TV demon opened his mouth slightly, poking his tongue against the seam of Alastor's lips. Surprisingly, Alastor accepted and reciprocated, swirling his tongue around Vox's. His body jolted with each tiny zapping sensation that came with the contact. For a few moments, they were lost in each other, the background of the TV drowning out the wet noises and soft moans that came from the couch.
Alastor was the first to pull away, leaving a thin string of saliva between their mouths as he panted in an effort to catch his breath. Vox stared up at him, adoringly, reverently, lovingly. He always looked at him like that-- like he was the most beautiful thing in the universe. It was a look that never failed to make Alastor feel cracked open, exposed, and vulnerable in a way he both feared and enjoyed. It was a look that he knew was only reserved for him.
At that moment, Vox's claws slid up from Alastor's hips, to his ribs, then to the front of his chest. His hands hesitated at the gap in his robe, waiting for permission.
"Can I see?" He asked breathlessly. Alastor mulled it over for a moment, finger tapped to his chin.
"Maybe... just a peek."
Vox's fingers slid under the opening of the robe, gently, as if he was handling something precious and fragile. His hand slowly pushed the fuzzy fabric to the side, exposing Alastor's shoulder, and was immediately met with a glimpse of shiny black silk and lace and--were those fucking ruffles?! Vox's screen glitched again, flipping to gray snow and then a technicolor rainbow. Alastor snickered at the reaction, reaching out a hand to caress his husband's boxy head. It would be a miracle if his casing didn't start smoking soon.
Vox's screen was flushed bright cyan, his expression a delicious mix of excitement and disbelief.
"Al, are you wearing fucking... lingerie?!" He whispered hoarsely, eyes shifting from Alastor's face to the tiny patch of fabric that remained exposed. His hands traveled back down to Alastor's hips, splaying out and kneading at the flesh beneath the robe.
Alastor hummed innocently, squirming in Vox's lap.
"And if I was?"
Vox inhaled sharply, and a burst of steam escaped from his vents. He was practically buzzing with electrical interference now, and the tips of his claws were now digging into the other man's hips. Alastor felt his husband's frequency shift to a lower pitch, desire radiating off him in waves.
"Holy shit, holy shit. Sweetheart, baby, come here--" Vox gasped. He tipped forward and promptly sunk his teeth into Alastor's naked shoulder. The deer yelped in surprise and then shuddered, eyes going half lidded as he felt the familiar sensation of sharp teeth breaking skin. Blood welled around the mark, and Vox's tongue laved over it, soothing the wound before going in for another attack. Alastor was mildly aware of a growing pressure rising beneath him, and he lazily rocked his hips back and forth against it, drinking in the lewd sounds Vox made in response.
For a moment, he considered remaining in this embrace, and letting things unfold from there. After all, he was receiving the attention he had craved in abundance. For now.
However, the infernal noise of TV commercials still continued in the background. It was too loud, and much too distracting. Not romantic at all.
Suddenly, Alastor melted into a shadow, dissolving away from Vox's grasp. The TV demon made an offended noise as he watched his husband reform at the opposite end of the couch, perched on the very edge with his legs crossed. He smoothed out his rumpled robe casually, ignoring the wrecked expression on Vox's screen.
"Hmm, no. This couch is velvet, I won't have you staining another one..." His eyes drifted back over to Vox, meeting his gaze under lowered lashes.
"So, if you want to see the rest, you'll just have to follow me."
He beckoned with a single finger, head jerking towards the bedroom. Vox's eyes darted from his husband, to the TV, and then back again.
"B-but the next special! It's called 'In Search of the Golden Hammerhead,' I can't miss it!"
Alastor blew out a disappointed sigh, crimson bangs fluttering away from his forehead.
"Oh, well, in that case... nevermind, I suppose. Goodnight, dear..."
Vox looked like a kicked puppy as he watched Alastor rise from the couch, sauntering back towards the bedroom. He paused for a long moment in the doorway, and then turned back towards Vox. Their eyes met, and the crackle of static between them increased to a dull roar. The robe (or more likely, Alastor) chose this exact moment for the loosely tied sash to come undone, and finally fell completely open.
xxx
Vox's eyes grew even bigger as they roved over the visual feast that stood before him.
The lingerie was black silk, with delicate lace detailing around the edges. There were ruffled details and red piping decorating the ensemble stretching from the thin straps to the cinched waist, with the addition of tiny red satin roses sprinkled at the shoulders and center of the chest. It was a high cut style, exposing a generous amount of thigh, and the bust area dipped into a deep V, including see through lace that didn't leave much to the imagination.
A broad expanse of Alastor's fur peeked through the lace, and Vox was struck, like always, by its beauty. His fur was dense and soft to the touch, a rich cocoa color complete with white patches on his lower half and spots dotting his thighs and shoulders. His body was decorated with old scars that criss-crossed across his thighs, arms, and chest. The scars were long since healed, some light, some dark, each one a memory of hard fought battles of the past. A visual reminder that despite the soft silk that currently enveloped his body, Alastor was still very much the radio demon of everyone's nightmares. But in this moment, he was soft, vulnerable. A beautiful vision that was only available for Vox to worship and enjoy.
In the last 30 years, his husband had never once shown any interest in lingerie. The fantasy had crossed Vox's mind once or twice, sure, but he had never dreamed Alastor would actually go for it, or that it would be occurring right now in his fucking living room. His eyes traveled back up to meet Alastor's, and the deer had the audacity to wink.
Vox short circuited once again, screen lighting up in a colorful mix of colors and sounds while a thin trail of smoke curled up from inside his bulky casing. The familiar smell of burnt plastic filled the room as Alastor waited, patiently, for his picture box to recover.
At that moment, the opening sequence for the next show began to play, announcing the hunt for the golden hammerhead. Vox groaned, wishing he could pause the TV. Of all the fucking times Alastor could have chosen to wear the sexiest lingerie in Hell, why did it have to be right now?!
Well, he wasn't going to miss Shark Week, and he definitely wasn't going to miss an opportunity to unwrap his husband like a damn Christmas present. This wasn't the 50's anymore, and he had newer technology at his disposal.
With an inhuman growl, Vox lunged towards the TV, falling to his hands and knees. He ripped the doors to the entertainment console open, rummaging inside loudly. He tossed random items over his shoulder as he dug deeper into the cabinet. Alastor watched the scene play out with an expression of mild confusion, head tilted to the side.
After a moment, Vox made a triumphant noise, holding up a black VHS tape in one hand. In one smooth motion, he shoved the tape into the VCR machine and pressed record, staring intensely at the device to make sure the red light was blinking. Once he confirmed it was recording, he slowly turned his head towards Alastor. A devious smile stretched across his screen, showing off every sharp tooth.
"Now, where were we?" Vox asked, his voice low and rough.
xxx
At that exact moment, Alastor felt a sudden shift in the air, an unmistakable change in dynamics. He could feel himself switching from predator to prey, in real time. There was also the dawning realization that he was now swimming with a shark, and he'd just spent the last ten minutes tossing chum into the water. On instinct, his tail shot up, white underside signalling danger.
A millisecond passed, then Alastor made a mad dash for the bedroom, leaving the robe in a crumpled pile on the floor. His hooves scraped the floor and his heart thumped in his chest from pure adrenaline as he darted down the hallway in a blur of black and red. As he crossed the doorway of their bedroom, he was intercepted by a flash of blue electricity that morphed into a solid form, tackling him to the floor.
He rolled onto the rug in the center of the space, a mess of tangled limbs and laughter as Vox pinned him down flat on his back. The TV demon peppered static-y kisses all over his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and finally, his lips. Alastor's giggles slowly dissolved into a low purr as he melted into the affection.
"Was this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Vox asked, in between kisses. His screen felt pleasantly warm against Alastor's face, not quite to the point of overheating. But there was still time for all that.
"Hmm, maybe," Alastor hummed. "Or perhaps I just wanted you all to myself again. You've been in front of that annoying television set for days."
Vox pulled back with a frown.
"Days? No, you're exaggerating."
"Yes, Vox. Days."
Vox scoffed in disbelief, then his eyes flickered down to his worn t-shirt. The same one he wore the previous night. And possibly the one before that. His screen flushed with the realization that Alastor was right.
"Alright, alright, maybe I went a little overboard. But come on, it's fucking shark week. It's a special occasion, only comes around once a year. Like Christmas! Doesn't that count for something?" Vox pushed out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, and Alastor rolled his eyes.
"Not when I have to resort to desperate measures to regain your interest again. It's ridiculous."
Vox raised an eyebrow, his hands still holding Alastor's against the ground. A thin wire extended out from the back of his head, curling around the lacy strap of Alastor's lingerie before giving it a gentle tug. It released to let it snap back in place against his skin, and Alastor shivered in response.
"Oh, is that what this was? You just wanted my attention, is that it?" There was an undertone of giddiness in Vox's voice.
"No, I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Alastor sniffed, averting his eyes to the ceiling.
Now it was Vox's turn to roll his eyes as he huffed out a laugh. He released Alastor's hands and sat back on his heels, palms sliding over the silky plane of Alastor's stomach. His claws scratched against the lace detailing, threatening to snag.
"Well, either way, I wouldn't be complaining if you wanted to wear this again, just for fun... you really are stunning, Al, you know that?" His voice was soft and reverent as he admired the view beneath him, hands continuing to explore the expanse of silk and skin. His claw brushed over a nipple, just barely scraping. Alastor gasped, and his eyes snapped forward to find Vox looking down at him in that same adoring way as before, the same look that always turned his insides to mush. His cheeks flushed a dusky pink as the claw lingered, rubbing slow circles around the bud.
"Be careful not to destroy this when you remove it, and I just might wear it again." Alastor teased, arching his hips up against him. Vox chuckled, leaning forward to capture his husband's lips in a searing kiss, sparks showering down from his antennae over their faces.
"Oh, you've got yourself a deal, baby."
xxx
xxxxx
xxx
YAY it's finally done! This was living in my brain for a while, it turned out a little differently than I'd originally planned but I'm happy with it. I just wanted to write 1. Alastor in lingerie because I think he'd serve and Vox would (rightfully) lose his marbles over it and 2. Vox (an admitted workaholic) being a total lazy couch potato during his favorite holiday: shark week.
Anyways, I love writing the husbands being disgustingly in love, what else is new lol.
Thank you for reading, feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed!!
Marriage was a rare occasion in Hell, but a marriage between two overlords? It was simply unheard of -- until now.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××
It was only Victoria's second shift at the Grand Hotel when she risked yet another untimely death.
As she dragged her cleaning cart down the plush carpeted hallway, kicking away slightly deflated party balloons from her path, she tried to remember the checklist. Change the sheets, wipe down the mirrors, restock the towels... she really should have written it all down. Or paid a little more attention during training.
Her supervisor was busy helping the rest of the staff clean up the massive ballroom from a party that occurred last night. From the grumbles she had overheard, it was a rather boisterous and messy affair involving a handful of overlords, complete with blood stains to scrub and broken glass to sweep up.
Victoria was dying to hear the gossip, but nearly as soon as she walked through the lobby doors, she was handed a white pinafore apron and ruffled headband, then pointed in the direction of the guest rooms.
She sighed, tying the strings of the apron behind her back and pinning on her name tag. Her shitty shoebox of an apartment wasn't gonna pay for itself.
The first floor was a breeze, the second floor was a piece of cake, and by the time she got to the fifth floor she was really in the zone. She bobbed her head, focused on the upbeat music streaming from her stereo headphones.
She approached the Honeymoon Suite, the largest and most luxurious room in the entire hotel. She mouthed the words to the song blasting in her ears, wiggling her hips in time with the beat. As she fumbled with her key ring, she didn't even notice the red "do not disturb" sign left hanging on the door handle. She finally located the key she was looking for and reached for the door.
She twisted the key into the lock, turning the handle.
Victoria yelped as she was abruptly yanked backwards by her coworker, Daisy. She pulled her headphones off and glared at the pink haired sinner.
"What the fuck is your problem?" She huffed angrily. Daisy glared back and raised a finger to her lips, shushing her. She tilted her head towards the door, eyes flicking to the sign on the doorknob.
"I wouldn't go in there if I was you." Daisy whispered. "God, you don't know how lucky you are, if I wasn't here..." She shook her head and grabbed Victoria's cart, quickly turning it around.
"Let's just say you owe me one. Come on, we can come back later... or... never." She jerked her head for Victoria to follow and pushed the cart briskly, making a beeline towards the elevator.
Victoria looked at the door, dumbfounded, before breaking into a sprint after her.
"Wait, what?! What are you talking about? Who's in there?" She hissed. Daisy just shook her head and shushed her again, repeatedly pressing the elevator call button.
xxx
Just behind the door, two pairs of shiny leather shoes had been left discarded on the floor. An empty bottle and two champagne flutes were left abandoned on the dresser. A haphazard trail of pants, dress shirts, suit jackets, ties, and underwear led up to a king sized bed that held the exhausted, sweaty bodies of two of Hell's most powerful overlords -- the Radio Demon and the TV Demon.
They lay entangled in the crumpled bedsheets, Alastor's head resting on Vox's chest. Vox stroked Alastor's ears absently, eyes half lidded. Alastor was half asleep, practically purring from the comforting touch.
"Do you think we could stay here forever?" Vox murmured. Alastor stirred, cracking open one ruby eye.
"Hmm... perhaps. Though at some point I would get hungry, which may prove bothersome for you." He said, amusement creeping into his voice.
"Eh, you gnaw on me already, I'm used to it." Vox waved a hand dismissively before returning it to further caress Alastor's ears.
Alastor raised his head from Vox's chest and nuzzled his nose into the side of his neck. The other man shuddered as he felt the points of sharp teeth graze his skin before Alastor bit down gently. He stiffened in response, a broken moan escaping his throat.
The bite wasn't hard, but it was enough to draw tiny pinpricks of blood that were immediately lapped up with the demon's tongue. Vox's fingers extended and he gripped a chunk of Alastor's red hair in his claws, tugging slightly. The deer pulled back after a moment, meeting Vox's eyes with a half lidded expression.
"Real food, not just a snack." He said pointedly.
"That's easy, room service. They have everything you could ever want." Vox replied smoothly. He tipped a finger under Alastor's chin, and leaned forward. Their lips brushed together, static buzzing between them. He deepened the kiss, tasting his own blood in Alastor's mouth, metallic and sweet.
Alastor hummed, unconvinced. He broke away and turned on his side, propping his head up with his arm. He reached out and lazily traced Vox's collarbone with a finger.
"So, you'd never work again? That doesn't sound like you, dear." He said skeptically.
Vox huffed out a laugh, turning on his side to face Alastor.
"Are you kidding? I practically invented remote work!" He bragged. "Anything I could do in the office, I can do right here. No problem!"
Alastor sighed, giving the TV head a fond look. He reached out and stroked the corner of his screen, watching tiny arcs of electricity pop off his antennae.
"Well, in any case, we only booked this room for three more nights. So I suggest we make the most of it." He winked at him with a mischievous grin. Vox returned the grin, hooking an arm around the other man's waist.
"Oh, don't worry, we will. C'mere, baby." He tugged their bodies back together, capturing Alastor's lips with his own. The other man wrapped his arms around his shoulders, closing his eyes and surrendering to the embrace. The room's lights flickered as the kiss intensified, static undercurrents punctuated by breathless gasps and moans.
Suddenly, in one fluid motion, Alastor flipped himself on top of Vox, pinning him down. He gazed lovingly at the TV headed demon panting beneath him, screen heated and flushed a bright cyan.
"You know, you're rather adorable like this." He observed, flicking the ball of his antennae playfully and watching it spark.
"God, Al, if I don't fuck you in about ten seconds--" Vox whined, grinding his hips upwards.
"So vulgar though! Honestly, where's the romance? This is still our honeymoon, you know." Alastor teased.
Vox rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed low, and the old radio in the corner crackled to life. "This I Swear" by the Skyliners began drifting from the speakers. Alastor's ears flicked in recognition, and a wave of emotion made his heart squeeze.
"Oh, my sweet, sentimental picture box." Alastor murmured, leaning down and nuzzling his screen affectionately. "My darling husband."
Vox felt his heart skip a beat at the word, immediately wanting to hear it again and again. He wrapped his arms around the radio demon tightly, possessively.
"My husband. All mine. I'm gonna make you so fucking happy, Al." He promised. He peppered kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his lips.
Alastor chuckled softly, melting into the embrace.
"You already have."
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
×××
this is pure self indulgence-- I like em sappy and romantic, what can I say? also did you know stereo headphones were a thing in the 1960s? this strikes me as technology that would have been intriguing for both alastor and vox
this occurs in the same universe as my Reboot fic btw, where Alastor and Vox have been married for 60 years (that is, before a certain asshole appears and starts fucking things up)
