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𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 39 Unwelcome Cone Call, Remembering To Whom View Belong

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: After Alastor's lackluster proposal, the three of you arrive in Cannibal Town and decide to take place in the festivities that had been planned for the day before he was to propose. While leaving one of the shops, your phone rings, and it prompts some feelings that you've been avoiding to bubble to the surface. Alastor and Ombre remind you that you are theirs until the end of time and beyond, and that no one can take that away from them both.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Tentacles, biting, blood, mentions of cannibalism, smut

The three of you materialize with the corpse formerly-known-as-Edgar in tow a short distance away from the square of Cannibal Town. There are red and black ribbons tied in bows with eyes on each knot on every tree and lamppost in sight, matching wreaths above every shop entrance, and the gazebo in the main square has one on every other rung, red and black fabric draping from the awning. It’s a flurry of red and black and eyes in every direction. It’s captivating, mesmerizing, and an interesting blend of the two of you. Your heart aches a little from the amount of effort that this all must have taken, to decorate this whole town just for you.

Alastor uses his powers to carry the corpse behind the three of you, and only a few strides later, Rosie notices, coming to greet you. She’s all smiles as always, pulling Alastor into a hug and then yourself, until she catches sight of the ring on your finger. “Alastor,” She gives him a pointed glare, her hands on her hips disapprovingly even as a smile still graces her face, “what happened to the plan? Did I decorate all of my little town for nothing? I wanted to see her face when you popped the question!”

Alastor’s ears pin back against his skull again, and you chuckle, but then come to his defense. “Auntie Rosie, it’s my fault. I’m the one who jokingly asked him to marry me first, right there in front of the corpse. How was I supposed to know he would pull out a ring and propose?”

“That’s hardly an excuse to ruin our lovely plans.” She says, but she’s still smiling. “Now let me see that ring of yours.” You hold up your left hand, and the stones glint in the afternoon sunlight. “Is that a sliver of shadow I see?” She raises an eyebrow, curious.

You nod. “Ombre wanted to include it.” You say as you reach up to scratch their head with your other hand. “They are a part of this union as much as Alastor and myself, after all. It’s only fitting.”

Her smile softens and she nods, not quite understanding but knowing that you have found Alastor in his entirety. Then her eyes and nose catch wind of the fresh meat. “And who might this fellow have been?” She says with delight, and Alastor uses his powers to bring the corpse closer to her.

“This would be what remains of the sinner that was my first kill back on Earth. Alastor hunted him down just for me, so I could kill him again.” You have a smitten look on your face and he looks noticeably calmer.

“Ah, romance.” Rosie says with a nod. “I can see why you’d abandon far grander plans of proposing in the perfect light after a full afternoon of enjoying yourselves in my humble little town.”

Alastor blanches again, and you tell her, “Oh, Auntie Rosie, he does feel bad. There’s no need to rub it in, and besides, I doubt this day is ruined. So he can’t propose in front of everyone. I’m sure we can still do everything else. Dancing, eating, hell, if he wants to, I’ll even listen to the speech he prepared.”

His eyes brighten then, and your smile warms, delighted to see him so. Rosie smiles brighter too. “Very well, young man.” She says with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Put on a good enough show and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

You can see the smirk in eyes as he manifests and twirls his microphone. You can practically hear his thoughts. Challenge Accepted, Rosie dear! “I’ll leave you to do what you do best.” He says, gesturing to the corpse.

Before he can whisk you away, you tell her, “Auntie Rosie, could you be a dear and box up the head for me? It’s a present for his late wife.”

She laughs and nods. “Of course, Theia, darling! Now go have fun!” She makes a shooing gesture. Alastor holds out his arm, you wrap yours around it, and then the two of you are striding about town taking in the sights, Ombre still draped about your shoulders.

The more you look, the more of that black, red, and eyes motif you see, though you notice as you draw nearer to one that it is actually an intricate lace pattern, red with a black overlay, the eyeball a bauble sewn on top and painted to look like one. Hand-painted, if you had to guess. The amount of work that it took to make these, hang them up all over, makes you feel guilty for some reason, though you’re not sure why.

“Miss Rosie did an excellent job with the square. It’s a shame we couldn’t have waited any longer to do the proposal here.” Ombre murmurs.

You shake your head even as you somewhat agree. “I loved your proposal. You called me ‘Iris,’. I’d have to have given you permission to do it here, and so many people to specify. It was quiet, and perfect, and now you can give the grand performance that you’re craving.” You chuckle. “You can even broadcast it on the radio, if you’d like.”

Alastor’s eyes turn towards you in shock and glee. “You’d let me tell you how much I love you on air?”

“I’d let you broadcast us making love if it meant that I get to keep you forever.” You say with a devilish smirk, and he chuckles as he pulls you to brush your lips against his.

“You saucy woman. I can’t have that on air. What would the papers say?”

“Surely it’s not much worse than those terrible radio romance dramas they used to run back on Earth. At least this time, it’d be real. It’d be us.” You say insistently, though you’re not sure why you’re pushing this. “Of course, I’d settle for you telling all of Hell just how much you love me.”

“Anything and everything for you, nostre âme soeur, nostre fiancé.” He kisses you again.

Ombre purrs into your ear, “We do mean anything, our majesty. Anything in existence for you.”

When the kiss is broken, the three of you are in front of that little bakery and sweet shop that Alastor had purchased those candied eyeballs from for your second date. Alastor opens the door for you and you stride in with Ombre, and then he follows after. A clerk comes up to you immediately. “Alastor, Theia! We have a few delightful selections for the happy couple to begin such a lovely day! While it’s not quite lunchtime, feel free to look through our selections of eyeball delights! We have everything from candied to jellied to chocolate coated!”

When the three of you are left alone to look, your gaze is, as always, focused on Alastor. “Mon point focal,” you tease him with that old expression you haven’t used in what seems like forever, and you see a faint blush on his cheeks, “if you hadn’t already proposed I would have known already. This is far too catered to me in particular to be anything but a proposal.” You smirk. “You do have excellent taste, however, and I do enjoy being pampered.”

“Always and forever, nostre reine.” Alastor says and kisses you again. You hear cheering in the back of the shop. You flush, feeling a little caught in the act. Your expression is sheepish, but you feel a nagging sensation in your gut. You try to ignore it.

You clear your throat. “I’d like to try the chocolate covered ones. The salted, though, not the sweet.”

“Excellent choice as always.” Alastor agrees, and when he selects one and starts to stride towards the front door after giving the manager a wave, you give him a confused look.

“Don’t we have to pay?”

“Rosie has deemed any and all purchases made for the sake of our day today as part of your belated birthday gift, since she’s, to quote her, ‘missed being able to have a reason to spoil you.’” He says with a genuine smile. You can tell because it hits his eyes, those crimson orbs with so much love for you within them.

“She would say that.” You turn to the shop manager, “Thank you!” You call out, “May many other patrons stop by and purchase from you today!”

You loop your arm with his and he opens the door for you to exit again. As you hear the door shut behind you, a buzzing in your pocket begins. When you reach inside to see who’s calling, you recognize the number. Does she have a tracker on my phone, that whenever I’m near this lovely little shop she gets some alert that I’m here or is it just mere coincidence that she’s calling again? You deny the call and put it back in your pocket.

“Who was that on the phone, our majesty?” Ombre asks, and Alastor raises an eyebrow, as he’d been busy looking away to decide where to go next.

“Someone who wants to be family but never will.” You say rather ominously, “Someone who I’d rather not have to answer her calls—today, or ever, really. She’ll ruin my good mood.” How did she get ahold of my number in the first place? You think to yourself as you stop suddenly in the street. Alastor turns to look at you worriedly, but waits for you nevertheless. Then, in an instant, it all makes sense. The problem with Greed is that everything comes at a price.

When you’re still silent for a while, haven’t moved from the spot you’d stopped in, Alastor takes your chin in his fingers and tips it so your middle eye meets his gaze. “Is everything alright, nostre reine?”

“No, but I’d hate to ruin this perfect day.” You say quietly as your phone begins buzzing again.

“Does the individual on the phone pose any real threat to you?” He asks earnestly, concerned, and you bite your lip.

“I doubt it. Her name is Sissela. She is Hyaloid’s sister—sister to the man who my father had arranged for me to marry. ” You shrug. “She’s more of a nuisance than anything. She knows that the only way I’d become queen is if I produced a son, so she holds that over me any chance she gets, not that she’d ever have any shot at it either. She seems to think that I am still going to become her sister-in-law and on the off chance that I produce a son, I’ll become queen, and then in about seven hundred years, she plans to take the throne in my stead, or at least all the money and power that comes with it.She called the same day I met my uncle, must have bribed someone in Greed to get my number. I was just so excited about meeting him that I forgot about it.”

“While I look forward to meeting your uncle tomorrow, bien-aimée, I wish I’d known about this sooner. Now hand me the phone so I can talk to this simpleton.”

You chuckle and hand him the phone. “Alastor, you have my permission to refer to me as Iris to Sissela, Duchess of Hell.” You tell him simply, and he kisses you on the forehead before he opens it and answers the call.

“Iris’s fiancé speaking. May I tell her who’s calling?” You giggle as you hear what likely could easily be described as outraged bitching and moaning from the other end. You wince as Alastor does, and proceeds to hold the phone a foot from his ear for a few moments. “That’s hardly a way for a lady to talk to anyone, especially someone she ought to consider family, from what I understand about this little interwoven blackblood hierarchy you have going on, my dear.” He says when he deems it appropriate to return the phone to his ear.

More bellowing, and Alastor pulls it back farther this time, but his gaze stays fixed on yours. “Oh so you are aware that she goes by Theia now. Good. Perhaps you should refer to her as such from now on, as that is how she prefers to be addressed. Do not call again today, or we will turn off her phone. This number is for wanted attention, not individuals who masquerade as family. I have a proposal to finish, and I won’t have anyone mucking that up. Good day!” He says after he returns it to his ear again. This is followed by more squabbling, which is cut off as he hangs up and hands it to you.

When it rings again, you frown, but then you see it’s not Sissela.

“It’s Rana.” You explain as you answer it. “Hi, Rana.” You say happily, and the two of you start walking again.

“I missed it?!” She exclaims, deducing from your deliriously happy tone that he has already proposed, and you laugh.

“Technically everyone did. Despite all his preparation, Alastor proposed to me in front of Edgar’s corpse.”

“He didn’t have the decency to wait?!” She exclaims again, and you laugh a second time.

“Hardly. I jokingly asked him to marry me and he took that as a challenge.”

“Of course he would. So does this mean I’ve gotten on my best dress and headed my way to Cannibal Town for nothing?”

You shake your head, even though you know she can’t see. “Of course not. We’re still enjoying the festivities that have been so painstakingly put together, and if my suspicions are correct, Al is still planning on giving the speech he’d no doubt meticulously written. I’m going to tell him ‘yes’ again, just because I can.” You smile at him as he glances in your direction, before choosing to take you towards the center of the square.

“I look forward to it. I’ll be there with shades on!” You know she’s smirking, and you laugh harder at one of her favorite jokes.

“See you soon, Rana!” You both hang up the phone, and you raise an eyebrow at Alastor as he heads towards a little cannibal café.

“So who else is supposed to be in attendance for this event this afternoon?”

“Why, everyone, of course.” Alastor says simply. “Everyone except your uncle. I don’t exactly have someone of such high esteem on my contact list, and I’m afraid I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.” He replies as the two of you are escorted to a table immediately. After he pulls out your chair for you and sits down on his own, you take his hand and interlace your fingers, kissing where the deal that sits between you glows in gold.

“I understand, Al.” You say with a pleased smile. “So everyone from the hotel is coming too?”

He nods. “Our dear Charlie was a little disappointed that we chose to hold it here instead of at the hotel, but I assured her that we’d consider holding the wedding there instead.”

“We spend so much time there already,” you say as you take a menu from the waiter, “and besides dancing, there isn’t much to do all day. Unless your shadow minions installed a candy shop in the lobby while I wasn’t looking.”

He chuckles and replies, “Speaking of dancing, allowing for those ten minutes of digestion you’re so fond of, would you join me for one after lunch?”

“What kind of dancing are we considering, ma moitié? The answer is yes no matter what; I just am curious as to your choice of song and style.”

“No foxtrot this time, ma très chère. I’d like to just do some simple waltzing with you.” He says easily, and you lean across the table to peck him on the cheek.

You still haven’t looked at the menu in your hands, but you know you’ll get to that in due time. “May I request a song choice, if you don’t have one selected already?”

“I had, but I’ll take your song selection instead.” He says simply as he accepts the sparkling water from another waiter and pours for you both.

“‘We Three,’ by The Ink Spots.” You say with a soft smile. “In recent days, it has been on my mind. It reminds me of the two of you.” You scratch behind Ombre’s ears, eliciting a pleased purr as they rub the side of their face against yours.

“An oddly sad song to choose for a proposal dance, but considering you’re the answer to that song’s burning question, I think it can be arranged.”

You flush and let half of your eyes look at the menu, your hand still intertwined with his, and you give it a squeeze wordlessly as you take a look at your options. For some strange reason, your entire menu is exclusively eyeball appetizers, entrées, and desserts. “I’d like it to be the first song we dance to today.” You say when your full attention is back on him. “I don’t want it to be the last or the only.”

He kisses where the deal glows on your fingers. “Absolutely, nostre fiancé. I would dance with you every day if it would please you.”

“Every day spent curled around you is a pleasant enough dance to satisfy me, our majesty.”

You flush and look down at the menu in your hands again. “Did they give you a venison-heavy menu, or is every location in town forced to cater to my ocular consumption preferences today?”

“‘Forced’? Hardly, ma très chère. The whole town volunteered. This is an excuse to celebrate, and they’re all so fond of you. It was an easy and unanimous decision. You know how Rosie’s little town jumps at any occasion to party, and when I mentioned it was for us, no one in their right mind would have said no.”

You bite your lip. “You don’t prefer eyes.” You point out. “You’re partial to a nice flank of venison. I don’t even have to eat eyes.” You sigh.

He raises an eyebrow as he moves his chair next to yours so he can take your chin in his clawed fingers again. They lightly prick your skin. “I thought we weren’t going to let anything ruin our good mood, bien-aimée. I know that you don’t have to eat eyes, just as I know that you enjoy it. Edgar was your first taste of that freedom, and it fit with your persona as a sinner to continue to feed off of them, so you used it as a habit to give yourself some sense of control over your life. So enjoy them, nostre reine. Enjoy them with me, and let me see that captivating smile again.”

You take a breath and force a smile. While his words are sweet, there are too many spiraling thoughts that you’re having trouble ignoring. “Al, do you even enjoy eating eyes? Are you subjecting yourself to this for me?”

“‘Subject’ myself? Ma très chère, where has all this negativity come from? Are you feeling alright?” He runs his thumb across your knuckles. “You once told me that communication is crucial for healthy relationships, bien-aimée. So please, tell us what so evidently has your mind in a tizzy.”

A low rumble emerges from Ombre, but it’s not words. It’s almost a growl, like they’re too upset to speak.

His hand is still on your chin, or you’d look away, so instead, you let your gaze soften. You think your vision is blurring to disassociate, but it isn’t until you feel the tears falling on your dress that you know that you’re crying. “Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones. Maybe it’s the stress of seeing my uncle tomorrow. Maybe Sissela rattled me more than I’d like to admit. Maybe my brain likes to torment me. I don’t know.” You sigh and let out a bitter laugh as the tears continue to fall. “I just keep thinking: when’s the other shoe going to drop? When are they going to realize that being with me isn’t worth the effort, that dealing with my family is too much to handle? When are they going to change their minds and decide to abandon me?” Like everyone else always has?

Alastor beckons to a waiter. “We’ll be back later. Something more pressing has arisen.”

“Very good, sir. We shall await your return.” The waiter bows.

Alastor’s gaze stays fixed to your face, his hand never leaves your chin. He leans towards you to whisper in your ear. “Do you trust us, Iris?”

“Always,” You breathe out with a shiver. It’s the truth. No matter how terrified you are that they’ll leave you, how fearful you are that they’ll decide to toss you aside, to throw you away, you will never stop trusting them both. You’d let them lead you off a cliff and you’d dutifully follow, if it meant they’d continue to love you, to want you.

Alastor kisses you again, and it’s soft, gentle, and you feel as if you might break. “We are going to remind you who you are to us, our majesty.” Ombre finally declares, as if they had forgotten what words are and memories of them had just been reawakened.

The shadows surround and swallow you up, but just like always, you are unafraid, unassuming. They deposit you somewhere you haven’t been in over a decade and a half—Rosie’s guest room. It has all her usual homey touches and decor, plus the large comfortable bed you had slept like the dead within the first night she’d managed to coax you to stay. You’re about to ask why you’re here, why here, and then you see the basket of goodies in the corner. The champagne has been swapped out for something bubbly and non-alcoholic, but you’d recognize a ‘Just Engaged’ gift basket anywhere. Rosie had this room prepared for after the proposal. You flush.

“We’re going to take advantage of what she offered for us afterwards, but we’re going to use it now instead.” Alastor says as he pulls you close, kisses and nips at the bite on your neck. “You seem to have forgotten who you belong to. We’re going to remind you of that.”

You’re fully dressed, and neither of them are even touching you all that much, but you moan instantly and feel yourself start to leak. You’re at a loss for words as Ombre pushes you onto the bed and starts nipping at that same spot and the pulse point there. Alastor divests himself of his clothes as he speaks. “You are ours, Iris. You will always be ours. No matter what anyone has ever done or will ever do, you will always belong to us—curse be damned.” His bowtie hits the floor and he undoes his suit coat. Ombre nips at your ear as he says, “Open your dress for Ombre, Iris.”

A moan you don’t expect leaves your lips and you nod, tugging on the collar of your dress so it falls open for them both. Ombre palms your breasts gently and kisses a full circle around the eye between them. Whimpers spill from your lips as Alastor continues. “We will love you when you have thirty-one eyes. We would love you when you had a hundred, five hundred, or nine hundred ninety-nine eyes, and any number in between, but we will break this curse long before you would ever see such numbers.” He drops his suit coat to the floor. He starts for the buttons on his shirt and you open your legs as Ombre nips their way across your torso to your hip bones. Drool slips from your lips as you see his always-stunning scarred chest, and your hands fall into Ombre’s facsimile of hair as their tongue parts your already soaked folds.

As Alastor starts to speak again, you moan and buck your hips into Ombre’s waiting mouth. “When you cum, it will be our names on your lips.” He undoes his trousers and slides them off his hips, and you watch as he springs free once more. He crawls onto the bed and his massive cock slides against your side as he threads his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back to look into his gaze. “Do you understand, Iris?” You open your mouth to reply, and he grips your hair tighter. “No words; nod your head if you understand. The only words I want to hear are Alastor, Ombre, or ‘I’m yours.’”

You moan into the tug of his hand against your scalp. “I’m yours.” You say as you nod.

“Yes, Iris, you are. You’re ours.” He kisses your lips softly as Ombre starts to lick into you with intense, deliberate strokes that send you keening. “Ours for all time, and beyond. We proposed to you not because you aren’t ours already, but because of the wonderful nature of the formality of it. The ability to tell you in words what we crave to have for the rest of our existence is a gift that we do not take lightly.” He interlocks his fingers with yours and the deal you made glows as he nips at your neck. You moan, and he says,“Somehow it seems like you forget the deal we made, nostre âme soeur.” You whine as Ombre teases your clit with their teeth, and Alastor keeps murmuring words of devotion, those same words he’d said to offer you the deal. “‘I am yours, mon âme soeur. Just stay; spend the time you have in this existence with me.’ That is what I asked of you, and I meant it. You never would—nor ever will—tire or bore us. Such a task is impossible for you. You’re different.”

You don’t answer, but you furrow your brows in confusion, keening as Ombre finds that spot inside you. “No one has ever or will ever compare to you. They are merely words. You are poetry.” You sob as he says this, and arch into Ombre’s tongue as they take a semi-permeable claw and circle your clit with it.

“Ombre, Alastor, I’m–” You stutter, then exclaim, “I’m YOURS!” Your orgasm hits you and you wail, scream it out as you arch into Ombre’s mouth and they chuckle as you cover their face in your juices from it.

“Good girl, such a good girl for us.” Alastor croons, and Ombre cleans the mess on their face with their tongue and keeps licking into you, never stopping, never needing to stop to breathe. “Ours, always ours.”

Alastor is heavy and swollen against your hip, but as you reach for him, he takes your hands and puts them over your head, pins them with one hand, then reaches out a tentacle to do the work for him. You whine, wanting to please him. “Alastor,” you plead with the only word he’s allowed you to have, and he chuckles at your desperation.

“This is about you, nostre fiancé.” He murmurs as Ombre nips at your clit again, and you sob. “I’ll be inside you in due time. For now, just relax.” He presses his teeth to your neck and then bites hard enough to break skin. You howl as you arch into Ombre’s tongue, and Alastor drinks from the wound, uses his tongue to reel in the blood that leaks from the corners of his ever-permanent smile.

“Al-Alastor, Ombre….” You murmur as you reach impossibly closer to your second peak, “O-Ombre, Al-Ala-STOR!” You wail as you cum hard into Ombre’s mouth again, and your back bows as you shake through your second orgasm.

“Always so perfect. Always. No matter what your thoughts tell you, we will never stop wanting you, needing you, craving you. Theia, bien-aimée, you are the mother of our children. You are the love of our life. You are our everything.” He croons as you come down from your high, and Ombre drinks everything that pours from you.

As you’re breathing sighs of relief at the wave that crashes around you, Ombre slips from between your legs and kisses you. You taste yourself on their lips as Alastor licks the wound he made, then he slides down between your legs to slip his own tongue inside. You whine. “Al-Alastor…” You want his cock instead, but you will follow their rules to the game they have set. He chuckles into your folds and you groan, fighting the tentacle that still holds your hands in place.

Ombre pinches your nipples and murmurs into your ear, “I want to affix myself to your skin and never stop touching you. I want to live in your chest next to your heart so you will never forget about me. I want to carve my name into your flesh so you will never be rid of me. You are my everything. Say my name, Iris.”

“O-Ombre!” You cry out as they pinch your nipples harder, as Alastor’s tongue slides through your folds and another tentacle snakes around your legs to circle your clit. You whine and arch into Alastor’s mouth as he does, and when the tentacle hits home, you wail at the contact.

With a few broad strokes across it, he dips his tongue deep inside you, and paired with the brutalizing of your nipples and Ombre’s devastating words, it sends you over the edge a third time, wailing and whining and writhing, screaming, “I’M YOURS!” You’re muttering their names as afterthoughts, just their names over and over again as you struggle against the tentacle that holds you still. Alastor chuckles into your folds as he nips at your oversensitive skin, and you feel your body shaking with the intensity of it. When you’ve come down from your high enough to form words again, you mutter, with a soft breath, “I’m yours.”

He slides up your form to kiss your lips, and Ombre shifts aside so they’re next to him. You taste yourself on Alastor, and then they ready themself to slide into you. “Ombre!” You exclaim as they enter you first. “Alastor!” He fills you immediately after, full of the two halves of the man that you have devoted the rest of your life to, the man who you would break the world for if they asked.

“Tell us who you belong to.” Alastor commands as they both start at an achingly slow pace.

“I’m yours!” You wail. “Alastor, Ombre, I’m yours!”

You want them to pick up the pace, desperate for them to pound into you until you break, but you can’t ask. As if sensing your want, your need, they quicken their pace, and you arch into it, sobbing their names like a prayer. Ombre goes back to pinching your nipples and Alastor sinks his teeth back into your neck. A wail escapes your throat again as Alastor’s tentacles find your clit and prod at your ass again. Tears prick your eyes as you feel it slide inside you, trying to buck into it as it begins fill you so achingly slowly.

It’s their words, in unison, that send you over the edge.

“Never forget who you belong to, Iris.”

“You are ours for all of time and forever after.”

You’re a wreck, sobbing and screaming and wailing and writhing, their names leave your lips as a mantra, a prayer, the only song your mouth knows how to sing. “I’m yours; I’m yours; I’m yours; I’m YOURS!” You bellow; they cum in unison shouts of their own, and when you pass out, the eyes in the room watch them both kiss you, murmur into your flesh words of praise and devotion that would make you cry all over again if you were conscious enough to do so.

When you come to, they’re both still inside you, Alastor on his side beside you, Ombre curled up on your chest. Alastor frees your hands from his tentacle, and you wrap your arms around them both in an instant.

“How are you feeling, nostre fiancé?” He asks as he kisses that spot he’s so fond of marking.

“Better.” You murmur as you kiss them both in turn. “Thank you for reminding me to whom I belong. I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Whatever the reason and whether or not it happens again,” Alastor begins,

Ombre finishes, “We will always be here to remind you of it. Always.”

You believe them, in that moment, that they will always be there for you, always by your side. Little do any of you know, not long from now, that will not be the case.

A/N:

I return, yes I haven't abandoned this story; I know it seemed like a long time for me. Chapter 42 was misbehaving. I have wrangled it into submission, and look forward to 43.

So now we know who called Theia the day that Uncle Noctua showed up in Cannibal Town, and Theia feels a significant bit better after Alastor and Ombre's little reminder.

Chapter 40 is the wedding proposal, and everyone's reactions to it, plus an unexpected guest.

Things:

Theia has many spouses, and not just Alastor and Ombre!

In a reality in which she was in the same universe as Carla Gill from A Mother's Devotion, her eldest son, Harry, would be Theia's husband. On the masterlist, the oneshot smut snippet between these two is posted, but soon it will also include Devotion of a Thousand Eyes, the crossover story between A Mother's Devotion and The Demon of a Thousand Eyes.

In addition, I will soon post the first preview of Theia and another one of her husbands, Peppermint Patches, a crazy jester OC that my bestie from the Discord made and I immediately wanted to kill anyone and everyone for the instant I had even heard of him. He hasn't even been fully drawn yet and I would kill everyone and then myself for the little ringmaster who stole Theia's heart. The fic is called Eye Candy: All in View Time, and it is a metric fuckton of smut. I hope y'all enjoy that when it comes out too!

Ta for now!

First || Chapter 38 || Chapter 40 (soon)

#the demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel fanfiction #theia #demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel oc #alastor x reader #eye #eyes #eye puns #eye puns as a coping mechanism #tw blood #tw tentacles #tw tentacle