𝐇𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 - Hazbin Hotel

vulnerable manner

For several months now, Alastor is suffering from the aftermath of his fight against Adam. Lucifer is the only one to know the extent of Alastor's condition and the only one helping him deal with it.

The injury, however, is much worse than Alastor or Lucifer have anticipated.

His eyes shot up after he'd heard a gun release a loud cracking noise, caught a glimpse of relentlessly barking dogs circling in on him, and felt the bullet come in contact with his skull.

For a split second, before everything faded to an endless black, he'd watched the ugly gray clouds float in the dark of the night sky.

It was raining. It felt like it at least.

For a split second, before the bitter realization of being dead settled in, he felt thin streams of blood flow down his forehead and the back of his neck.

Blood was warm. Hot even. But most importantly—it was his.

He was no stranger to blood. He'd seen it all, from ruby to maroon. He'd run his slender fingers through countless pools of crimson as it'd agglomerated after his victims were dealt with in a brutal manner. On some occasions, he'd drunk it, and he liked the taste: metallic and bitter, like dark chocolate syrup.

He'd seen it all, but rarely his own blood. Not unless he nicked a finger on a letter opener by accident. Not unless something he could not predict had happened. Not unless he wanted to be wounded.

Red, his blood was.

Mom's favourite colour.

Did he want to be wounded?

Killed?

Did he want to die?

A̵l̶—

A̵l̶a̸s̷t̸o̴r̴—̶

A̶r̸e̶ ̷y̶o̴u̶ ̴o̵k̸a̶y̷—

"Alastor."

His eyes fluttered, and he flinched at his name being called. He threw a quick glimpse around the main lobby of the Hotel only to see concerned and suspicious stares watching him close. A sharp pain shot across his chest, and he forced his smile wider. What a tasteless and poor attempt at hiding the throbbing ache it was, he realized once Charlie put her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trailing a blood stain around—thank fuck—the wound with her fingers. She removed her hand quickly and stepped away. Good. Alastor would have to shove her aside if she took a second longer, and he didn't want to be violent. Not with her or in this condition, anyway. "You're... bleeding?" Half-statement, half-question escaped her mouth as Alastor watched the confusion twist into panic on her face.

"Ha!" He cackled alongside a laughing track coming out of his mic for proper effect. "Oh dear, you wish, don't you? 'Tis nothing but a sinner's blood. I had some errands to run earlier today." His never-fading smile grew slightly more deranged. "I'm an Overlord, remember?"

Charlie let out an awkward, perhaps a tad anxious chuckle. "G-got it! Totally not your blood! And I do remember that you're an Overlord..!"

"Swell! Now, carry on with your little kindergarten meeting. I'm all ears," he bowed slightly, which he oh so deeply and instantly regretted.

The pain bared its claws deeper and rushed down his abdomen. A loud static noise escaped him mixed together with a very elegant and raspy F-fuck. The groans and complaints about the volume had spread across the room, and the eyes were scoped in on him once again. All but one pair.