Alastor

Neither of you are sure how it happened, honestly.

Alastor only knew that one moment, you and him were chatting at the hotel’s bar, four bottles of whiskey to the wind- And the next, he was fucking you within an inch of your life.

He couldn’t remember how it started, or how he got to the point of even wanting to do such base actions with you. It wasn’t like he’d ever felt the urge before- Quite the contrary, even in life Alastor had considered sexual acts the bane of his existence, and that was a long, long time ago now. So why had he looked at you, sitting next to him at the bar with that goofy smile of yours, and suddenly wanted to ravish every inch of you that he could get his hands on?

He wasn’t sure. It still confuddled him, even mid-act. It was just easier to ignore then, easier to keep going and drown in the pleasures you gave him- And for once he could see how people could get lost in the moment, caught up in the sinfully attractive body beneath them. So he let himself go that night, let himself…Proposition you.

And to Alastor’s surprise, you said yes.

So he’d taken you to his room that night, tugging you by the hand with a lilt to his laughing voice, finding the key to the door an unfamiliar struggle when you’re pulling at his coat like that. It was much easier to lock it once you two were inside, much easier to shrug his coat and shirt and shoes off, much easier to do the same to you, much easier to throw you onto the bed and-

It was a long night.

But Alastor wakes in the morning, headache clinging to his skull, and as he turns to his side with a groan, he finds that you’re not there. Why aren’t you there? Was it all a dream, a fantasy he’d conjured up in his alcohol-addled mind? Disappointment began to settle in, when he sees evidence of the passionate night right in front of him, laid across the bed.

Your underwear, forgotten in whatever haste you made to leave. And it only made the disappointment worse, made it gnaw at his stomach and chest and throat. He shoves it down in favor of getting ready for the day, deciding to make it a priority to find you.

When he makes it down the stairs to the lobby, his eyes find yours instantly. With a renewed vigor to his ever-present grin, he approaches, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Well good morning, darling~” He nearly sings, in an awfully good mood. “I trust you slept well last night, hm?” He remarks quietly, bringing a hand up to lightly trace over a mark he left on the skin of your shoulder.

But he freezes when you do, when you shrug his hand off and avoid his gaze, shrinking under it like a fawn. His mind stalls, not expecting this outcome- What has you so standoffish? Perhaps he came on too strongly?

But before he can say anything more, you mutter out an excuse and run off, out of his sights before he can even think of calling out for you.

It aches. It aches, and he’s not used to it, and it makes him bitter.

And so, the song and dance begins. It’s heavily instigated by you- And for what it’s worth, Alastor tries. He tries to confront you, tries playing nice and he even tries giving you your space. But it’s been weeks now and you’ve begun outright avoiding him whenever possible, and he’s not sure why it hurts so goddamn much.

He’s the Radio Demon for hell’s sake! He shouldn’t be pining after you like this, wondering so obsessively over what could be the cause for your flighty nature. He shouldn’t care so much that you’re acting like he doesn’t even exist, like what happened that night didn’t actually happen at all. Alastor has never been one for love or romance or sex…

But he looks at you and he wants them all.

He wants, and he wants it greedily. He’s at his wits end, wanting nothing more than to take you by the shoulders and shake you and demand you tell him what’s wrong. Why won’t you speak to him, or even look his way? It’s driving him insane, and that’s impressive because he’s sure he already was! Alastor can’t grasp why he cares so much, why not having your attention bothers him like an itch in his bones, but it does. It does and it’s making him crazy.

It hits him one night, as he’s trying to read in his study. It hits him when he realizes that he hasn’t turned the page in 20 minutes, and hasn’t read a single line in double that. His thoughts are too busy, too full of nothing but you, and that’s when he recognizes the signs.

He’s in love. He’s in love, he had you, and he lost you all in one night.

Alastor slams the book closed, standing from his desk and storming out of the study like a bat out of hell. He has to find you, has to resolve this- He can’t go a single moment longer without knowing what comes next, without a direction to head in. Should he move on? Or should he keep trying? He needs to know, and you’re the only one who can tell him.

He finds you alone, thankfully, walking in one of the many halls of Hazbin Hotel. He beelines for you, and within the blink of an eye, you’re pressed up against the wall, caged in by Alastor’s looming figure. He has hands on either side of you, ensuring you had no escape as he fixes you with a conflicted expression so full of emotion that you’ve never seen on him before. You know you’re caught.

“What the hell have you done to me?” He growls out, politeness out of the window. It left the moment you decided to play ignorant. “You walked into my room and made a mess of things, and now you wish to play the fool.”

He chuckles darkly, expression turning tortured despite the grin on his face. “But it is I who’s the fool here- For letting you run from me this entire time. But no more.” He leans in close, fingers gripping your chin to force you to look him in the eyes.

“Answer me, {{user}}- Why do you torture me so? Why do you run from me?” His voice croaks out, desperate for an answer, an explanation, anything at all.