crimson deer

by Alastorarepair (Mushishield)

Summary:

alastorshippermonth day 24 coffee shop owner/ Mafia boss

Chapter 1

The sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as Alastor adjusted the open sign on the door of his new café, The Radiant Roast. A cheerful hum escaped his lips as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. His smile, ever-present and radiant as the sun, lit up his face, making the whole scene look like something out of a cozy postcard—warm, inviting, and absolutely out of place in the gritty neighborhood he'd chosen to set up shop.

Next door, Crimson Knolastname, the undisputed Don of the Knolastname Mafia, stood by the large window of his office, scowling. He had just gotten word of the new neighbor. Normally, Crimson wouldn’t care about some naive upstart opening a business on his turf, but this one? A coffee shop? In his territory? That was an insult he couldn't let slide.

Grabbing his coat, Crimson muttered darkly to himself as he made his way outside. His plan was simple: make the new owner understand who ran things around here. A little intimidation would go a long way. But as he turned the corner, ready to storm into the café, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, just outside the door, stood the owner himself. Tall, slender, and dressed with old-fashioned charm, he radiated an aura of pure joy. His crimson eyes sparkled behind his round glasses, and his humming was so chipper it felt surreal in the dingy street. He reached up to straighten his bow tie, and when he finally noticed Crimson standing there, his smile grew impossibly wider.

“Good morning, neighbor!” Alastor called out cheerfully, waving with such unbridled enthusiasm that Crimson felt like the gesture punched him in the gut. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Crimson didn’t respond. His chest felt tight, his heart thudding in a way that was utterly foreign to him. He was the head of a criminal empire, feared by all who crossed his path. And yet, this sunny, coffee-smelling stranger was staring at him like he was a friend—or worse, like Crimson wasn’t the most terrifying thing standing in front of him.

He needed to say something. Anything.

But instead, he turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as his legs could carry him, leaving behind a very confused Alastor.

By the time Crimson slammed the door to his office shut, his face was burning. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered, pacing like a caged animal. He’d faced assassins, betrayals, and rival families without breaking a sweat. Yet one look at that goofy, smiling idiot, and he’d bolted like a rookie.

It wasn’t fear. No, that was ridiculous. What was there to be afraid of? The deer didn’t have a threatening bone in his body. If anything, he was painfully, disgustingly cute.

Cute?

Crimson froze mid-step, a new wave of horror washing over him. “Oh, no.”

Meanwhile, Alastor watched as Crimson stormed away, scratching his head in confusion. He’d dealt with plenty of unusual folks in his time, but this was new. With a shrug, he enter his cafe to arranging the fresh pastries in the display case, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe he’s just shy,” he mused to himself. “I’ll bring him some coffee tomorrow. Everyone loves coffee!”

And so, unknowingly, Alastor set into motion a series of events that would shake the very foundation of Crimson’s meticulously controlled world.

Chapter 2

The warm morning air carried the scent of cinnamon as Alastor stepped out of The Radiant Roast, balancing a carefully prepared gift in his hands. A little bow adorned the deer-themed box, and the hoof-print coffee mug held the perfect brew—dark and rich, with just the right amount of cream. Humming a cheery tune, Alastor couldn’t help but feel satisfied.

Today was going to be delightful.
“Be back in a few minutes, Niffty, darling!” he called over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him.
“Okay, Dad!” Niffty chirped, bustling about the kitchen, a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. She was already making breakfast, chattering to herself about the café going to busy. Alastor smiled to himself as he crossed the street, his long strides filled with purpose.

When he reached the imposing building next door, Alastor was greeted by the sight of two of Crimson’s men standing outside. Their sharp, suspicious eyes fixed on him immediately, and their postures screamed hostility. Alastor, oblivious to the tension, gave them his signature dazzling smile.
“Why, hello, good gentlemen!” He greeted brightly, stopping in front of them. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

The men exchanged glances, their scowls deepening. Before either could snap at him, the door opened, and Crimson stepped out, his son Moxxie trailing behind him. Crimson froze as soon as his eyes landed on Alastor. His chest tightened, and his breath hitched, though he quickly masked it with a gruff scowl.
“What do you want?” Crimson barked, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Alastor’s smile faltered slightly. “Oh, I see I’m bothering you. My sincerest apologies!” His voice was softer, apologetic. Moxxie, standing beside his father, immediately noticed the shift in the deer’s demeanor. The genuine kindness in Alastor’s expression tugged at him.

“Hey, mister,” Moxxie interjected, trying to smooth things over. “Dad didn’t mean to sound so rude. He’s just… busy.”
Crimson shot his son a look that promised trouble, but before he could speak, Alastor shook his head with a chuckle. “No, no, I understand! I just wanted to be neighborly. Since you didn’t stop by my shop, I thought perhaps you were shy about entering. So, I made you some fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee—on the house, of course. There’s plenty to share!”

Alastor extended the bag and coffee mug toward Crimson. For a moment, Crimson simply stared, his usual sharp wit failing him. The deer-themed box and adorable hoof-print mug shouldn’t have made his heart race, yet here he was, blushing like a fool.
One of Crimson’s men broke the silence, smacking the bag out of Alastor’s hands. “What’s your game, sinner? Trying to poison the boss?”

Before Alastor could respond, the other man delivered a punch to his face, knocking him to the ground. Blood dripped from his nose, and one eye was already beginning to swell. Alastor’s stunned expression made Crimson’s stomach churn.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Crimson bellowed, his voice booming. His men froze in place, startled by the uncharacteristic outburst. “Apologize to him right now.”

The men exchanged confused looks. “But, boss—”
“You heard me!” Crimson growled, stepping closer. “Apologize for hurting what belongs to me!” His words echoed before he caught himself. He cleared his throat hastily. “I mean, my guest! Apologize for hurting my guest. That wimp couldn’t hurt a fly!”

Alastor, sitting on the ground, blinked. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising—the punch, the apology demand, or being called Crimson’s possession. For a moment, his pride as a former serial killer bristled, but the absurdity of the situation made him chuckle instead.

The men hesitated, but Crimson’s glare left no room for argument. They mumbled half-hearted apologies, but Alastor’s smile returned, as bright as ever. “Why, gentlemen, all is forgiven,” he said cheerfully. “But! You’ll have to pay me for the pastries and coffee you ruined. And my time, of course.”

The men stared at him, incredulous. “Why should we?” one of them scoffed. “It was a gift to the boss.”
Crimson cut in before Alastor could respond. “Because he’s right. You ruined a gift meant for me. Now pay him.”
Grumbling, the two men fumbled for their wallets, pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills and shoving them at Alastor. Alastor blinked at the pile of cash, stunned, before Moxxie stepped in, patting him on the arm. “Take it,” Moxxie said softly. “That’s Dad’s way of saying sorry.”

Alastor hesitated but nodded, tucking the money into his pocket. Moxxie retrieved the now slightly crumpled box of cinnamon rolls, finding the pastries inside miraculously unharmed. Moxxie then started to hand over the box to Alastor, who was about to say thank you, but Crimson snatched the box before Alastor could even say thank you, shoving it into one of his men’s hands.

“Get this to my desk. And tomorrow,” Crimson said, pointing at Alastor, “I want fresh ones. And coffee. You hear me, deer?”
Alastor tilted his head, his smile returning. “Of course, darling. Anything for a neighbor.”
Crimson froze. The word darling echoed in his mind, and a deep blush spread across his cheeks. Without another word, he turned and stormed toward the car, dragging Moxxie along. As they climbed in, Moxxie smirked at his father.
“Do you like him?” Moxxie asked slyly.

Crimson smacked the back of his son’s head. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Moxxie grinned. “Sure, Dad. It’s not because he called you ‘darling’ or anything.”
Crimson growled under his breath, but as they drove off, he couldn’t shake the image of Alastor’s dazzling smile—or the strange fluttering in his chest.

Chapter 3

The next morning at The Radiant Roast, Alastor prepared for his day with his usual enthusiasm. His vibrant humming filled the cozy café as he packed a new batch of cinnamon rolls and poured fresh coffee into a hoof-print mug. The black eye and bruise on his cheek, did little to dim his cheer.
“Today is going to be splendid, Niffty!” he declared, tying a neat bow around the deer-themed box.

Niffty, who had been meticulously scrubbing the counters until they gleamed, paused long enough to smirk at him. “Splendid, huh? You sure this isn’t about a certain someone next door?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, her grin teasing. “I told my online friend about this. You know what he said? He thinks his dad has the hots for their neighbor too!”

Alastor waved her off with a laugh, adjusting his crimson bow tie. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I’m simply fostering good relations. Strong communities require strong bonds!”
Niffty’s laughter followed him out the door as he stepped into the morning sunlight, cinnamon rolls and coffee in hand.

Crimson sat in his office, papers strewn across his desk. Not that he was getting much work done. His mind kept drifting to the previous day—to Alastor’s unflinching smile, the way he’d called him “darling,” and, annoyingly, the taste of those cinnamon rolls.
He glanced at the clock. Alastor should be here soon. Not that he was looking forward to it or anything.
A knock on the door snapped him from his thoughts. One of his men leaned in, looking hesitant. “Boss, uh… The coffee shop guy is here. You told him to come, remember?”
Crimson straightened, quickly organizing the papers on his desk. “Send him up,” he said gruffly, fixing his tie and hat.

Moments later, the door opened to reveal Alastor, beaming as he entered with his offerings. The scent of cinnamon and fresh coffee wafted into the room, and Crimson’s traitorous heart skipped a beat.
“Good morning, Crimson!” Alastor chirped, setting the box and mug on the desk. “Fresh cinnamon rolls and coffee, just as you requested.”

Crimson cleared his throat, his scowl deepening to mask his flustered state. “You didn’t have to bring it yourself,” he muttered. “Don’t you have staff for that?”
“Just me and my daughter, darling,” Alastor replied, smiling. “And customer service is paramount. I wanted to ensure everything was perfect!”

Crimson’s gaze flickered to the box. He opened it hesitantly, the rich scent of the still-warm pastries enveloping him. With an almost imperceptible sigh, he picked up the coffee and took a sip. It was, of course, perfect.
“It’s fine,” he grumbled, though the way he immediately took another sip betrayed him.
“I’m so glad you like it!” Alastor said brightly. “Perhaps you’d like a standing order? I could deliver every morning!”

Crimson nearly choked on his coffee. “Every morning?” he barked. “You’re trying to weasel your way in here or something?”
Alastor tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Weasel? Oh, darling, I’m simply a businessman. Nothing more.”
That damned “darling” again. Crimson’s face burned, and he hated how effortlessly Alastor disarmed him. He was spared from replying by Moxxie’s arrival.

“Oh, it’s you,” Moxxie said, his expression brightening as he spotted Alastor. “Dad, you should’ve told me he was here. I’d have skipped breakfast for one of those cinnamon rolls!”

Crimson smacked Moxxie’s hand as it reached for the box. “Get your own, son. These are mine.”
Alastor laughed, the sound like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Next time, Moxxie. I’ll bring a batch just for you.”
Moxxie grinned. “Thanks, Mister Alastor. Dad, why don’t you invite him to sit down and chat? I could grab a chair for him.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly overstay my welcome,” Alastor said with a polite wave of his hand. “But I’d love to host you in my café sometime! Perhaps a quiet tea or coffee, away from the hustle and bustle?”
Crimson froze. The image of sitting in Alastor’s cozy shop, surrounded by warmth and that maddeningly cheerful smile, flashed in his mind. He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
“Not happening, deer.”

Moxxie raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure, Dad? Sounds like a nice change of pace.”
“Not. Happening,” Crimson growled, his glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Alastor’s laugh was light and unbothered. “The offer stands, darling. Anytime you’d like.” He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why, I’d even close early just for you and your son. No crowds to worry about, darling.”
Crimson’s blush deepened, his gruff demeanor faltering. As Alastor left, his cheerful hum echoing down the hall, Moxxie leaned toward his father, his voice low and teasing.
“You like him.”
“Shut up, Moxxie.”

Moxxie’s grin widened. “You better hurry up, Dad. A guy like him probably has suitors lined up around the block. Might want to stake your claim before someone else does.”
Crimson’s glare darkened, but his mind was already racing. He pulled out his phone and texted his men:
“Keep an eye on the deer. No one gets close to him. If anyone touches him, they’re dealt with. You know the drill.”
The responses were swift. “Yes, boss. Understood.”

Crimson snapped his phone shut, catching Moxxie reaching for another cinnamon roll. He smacked his son’s hand away.
“Get out, Moxxie. Go find yourself a girlfriend or something.”
Moxxie snickered as he left, but Crimson barely noticed, already lost in thoughts of how to keep his deer exactly where he wanted him—close and untouched by anyone else.

Chapter 4

The warm morning light spilled into The Radiant Roast, casting a golden glow over the bustling café. Alastor, humming his usual jaunty tune, greeted each customer with his radiant smile, his every motion precise and elegant despite the faint bruise. The comforting scent of cinnamon and coffee swirled through the air, creating an oasis of calm within the lively chaos of the morning rush.

Niffty zipped between tables like a whirlwind, rearranging chairs and polishing surfaces with determined focus.

The bell above the door chimed, cutting through the soft chatter of the café. Alastor glanced up from the counter, his practiced smile fixed in place as he greeted the newcomer.

“Welcome to The Radiant Roast!” he chimed.

The figure who entered was immediately striking—a tall man with a confident, his smirk practically dripping arrogance. His sharp, hawkish eyes surveyed the room before landing squarely on Alastor. He made his way to the counter with a casual air that drew curious glances from the other patrons.

“Well” the man drawled, leaning against the counter. “What’s a cute guy like you doing in a place like this? Seems like you’d be better off keeping my bed warm.”

Alastor’s cheerful mask cracked ever so slightly, his grin becoming a touch more strained. He chuckled lightly, stepping back a half-step. “Ah, flattery so early in the morning! But I’m afraid we’re all about coffee and pastries here. Can I interest you in something to drink? Perhaps a cinnamon roll?”

The man’s smirk widened as he ignored the offer. “How about you give me your number instead?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from Alastor. He glanced around, searching for an out as he stepped further back toward the safety of the counter’s edge. “I appreciate the compliment,” he said lightly, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that request. Mixing business and... personal affairs simply isn’t my style.”

The man’s expression darkened at the subtle rejection, his tone dropping into something far less friendly. “You think you’re too good for me?” His eyes flicked to Alastor’s glasses, which had slipped down his nose from his nervous shifting. “Guys like me don’t like being turned down.”

Alastor’s fingers twitched as he adjusted his glasses, the slight tremor in his hand betraying his otherwise calm demeanor. Before the situation could escalate further, a voice rang out from the side, calm yet sharp as a blade.

“Is there a problem here?”

The man turned, startled, to find Striker leaning casually against the counter. The cowboy’s hat was tilted low, but his piercing yellow eyes glinted with a dangerous edge. He tossed a few coins onto the counter without breaking his gaze.

“Black coffee to go,” Striker said, his tone deceptively casual. Then he turned his attention back to the stranger, his smirk chilling. “And I suggest you back off before you embarrass yourself even more.”

The man squared his shoulders, trying to reclaim his bravado. “This ain’t your business, cowboy.”

Striker pushed off the counter, standing to his full height. “Oh, but it is. You’re messing with the guy who makes the best damn coffee in town, and that’s something I don’t take kindly to.” His voice dipped, carrying a cold menace that made the room seem quieter. “Now, are you gonna leave on your own, or do I have to help you find the door?”

The stranger hesitated, his confidence faltering under Striker’s unyielding stare. Before he could make a move, Striker reached out, grabbing the man by the collar and hauling him toward the door with ease.

The café fell silent, all eyes fixed on the scene as Striker shoved the man outside. Niffty, who had been lurking in the shadows with a knife gripped tightly in her hand, froze mid-step. She watched in awe as Striker handled the situation, her weapon clattering to the floor unnoticed.

“Get lost,” Striker growled, giving the man a final shove onto the sidewalk. “And don’t come back.”

The man stumbled away, muttering curses under his breath but not daring to look back. Striker turned and reentered the café, brushing off his hands as though nothing had happened.

Alastor stood behind the counter, his expression a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, his voice softer than usual. “I didn’t realize I had such... passionate defenders among my regulars.”

Striker smirked, picking up the coffee Alastor had prepared for him. “Let’s just say I take care of the folks who matter.” He tipped his hat, his yellow eyes lingering on Alastor for a moment longer than necessary. “Be careful, Alastor. This city’s full of folks who don’t play nice.”

Alastor blinked, startled by the familiarity with which Striker spoke his name. “How do you—?”

Striker was already gone, the bell jingling behind him as he stepped out into the street.
Outside, the troublemaker barely made it a block before a sleek black car screeched to a stop beside him. The door opened, and Crimson stepped out, radiating fury. The stranger’s bravado vanished as Crimson approached, a pistol gleaming in his hand.
“You’re the fool who thought you could mess with my deer?” Crimson growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“I—I didn’t know!” the man stammered. “Crimson, I swear—”

The crack of the gunshot echoed in the alley. The stranger fell, lifeless, as Crimson’s men moved in swiftly to clean up. Crimson holstered his gun, his face a mask of controlled rage.
“Get rid of him,” he ordered, turning back to his car. “And make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, boss,” one of the men replied.

Crimson climbed back into the car, muttering under his breath. “Idiots... No one touches what’s mine.”
Beside him, Moxxie smirked. “Shut up, Moxxie,” Crimson snapped, glaring.
“I didn’t say anything,” Moxxie replied innocently.
Crimson glared harder. “You were thinking it.”

The next morning, Alastor, hummed a cheerful tune as he prepared for the day. When Niffty asked if he was truly fine, he waved her off with a laugh.
“Oh, Niffty, you don't have to worry about me, but it’s comforting to know I’ve got such loyal customers watching my back!”

Across the street, Crimson sat in his car, a cigar in hand, his sharp gaze locked on the café. Watching Alastor bustle about, he exhaled a puff of smoke, muttering to himself.
“No one touches you, Alastor,” he vowed. “Not without answering to me.”
Rolling the window down, Crimson motioned for Striker. “Stay inside that café until Blitz gets here. Then you can leave.”

“Yes, boss.”
As Striker headed off, Moxxie leaned forward. “Can I go along?”
Striker snorted. “Go get yourself a boyfriend, kid.”
Moxxie blinked, confused. “Why does everyone keep saying I need to get myself a boyfriend or girlfriend? What are they trying to tell me?”

Chapter 5

As weeks passed, Blitz and Striker’s original mission—to ensure Crimson’s “deer” remained safe—began to take on a life of its own. The charm of the café and its quirky inhabitants gradually chipped away at their tough exteriors.

Alastor’s warm demeanor, combined with his skill in brewing coffee and deftly handling occasional troublemakers, made it hard even for Striker to remain aloof. Niffty’s relentless cheerfulness and knack for making everyone feel welcome softened Blitz’s usual snark. Even Loona, who begrudgingly accompanied them at first, found herself drawn to the cozy ambiance.

One crisp morning, Alastor greeted the two with his signature brilliant smile. “Good morning, gentlemen! The usual black coffee for both of you?”

Blitz leaned casually on the counter, smirking. “You know me too well, Al. Strong enough to wake the dead—or, at the very least, keep me sane around him.” He gestured toward Striker, who shrugged in response.

“And you, Mr. Striker?” Alastor asked with polite curiosity.

“Black, as always,” Striker drawled, his sharp eyes lingering on Alastor. Over time, his initial wariness had shifted into grudging admiration. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you’re good company.”

Alastor chuckled as he handed over their cups. “High praise, coming from you.”

Blitz snorted. “Don’t let it go to your head, Al. He’s just annoyed that his tough cowboy act doesn’t work on you.”

Striker shot Blitz a glare, but before he could retort, the bell above the door chimed, and Niffty darted over, her bright smile unwavering.

“Hi, guys!” she chirped. “I made fresh blueberry muffins today. Want to try some? I promise they’re delicious!”

Blitz eyed the tray suspiciously. “Did you sprinkle glitter on them or something?”

Niffty giggled. “Only the edible kind! Glitter makes everything better, doesn’t it?”

Loona, seated in her usual corner, muttered, “Not when it gets stuck in your fur...”

Niffty perked up and turned toward Loona. “Oh, hi, Loona! Did you try the chai latte I made yesterday? I made sure it had just the right amount of spice. Was it good?”

Caught off guard, Loona mumbled, “Uh... yeah, it was fine. Thanks.”

Niffty clapped her hands in delight. “Yay! Next time, I’ll make you a caramel macchiato—it’s my favorite!”

Striker leaned toward Blitz, whispering, “That little ball of energy is going to turn Loona into a social butterfly someday.”

As the café buzzed with laughter and chatter, Alastor, Blitz, and Striker found themselves drawn into the lively atmosphere. Blitz and Alastor exchanged playful banter, their quips earning chuckles from nearby patrons. Even Striker, known for his sharp tongue, occasionally added a clever remark or allowed a rare smile to slip through.

Niffty’s infectious energy captivated everyone, including Striker, who found himself unexpectedly intrigued by her stories about reorganizing the stockroom or perfecting napkin-folding techniques. To everyone’s surprise, even Loona began to warm to Niffty’s eccentricities—though she’d never openly admit it.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the café, Alastor approached their table with a tray of pastries. “I must say, having you two as regulars has been quite the treat. Your presence adds a certain sparkle to this place.”

Blitz grinned. “Are you saying you’d miss us if we stopped coming by, Al?”

Alastor tilted his head, his expression enigmatic. “Why, Mr. Blitz, whatever gave you that idea?”

Blitz chuckled, but Striker’s gaze lingered on Alastor, something unspoken passing between them. Despite his guarded nature, Striker couldn’t help but find Alastor’s kindness disarming.

Over time, Crimson’s orders became more of a suggestion than a mandate, and Blitz and Striker fell into an easy routine at The Radiant Roast. Their reports to Crimson continued, but their bond with Alastor deepened. Blitz delighted in teasing him, while a genuine camaraderie blossomed. Even Striker, typically closed off, let his guard down in the café’s warm embrace.

Loona, too, started to look forward to their visits, especially when Niffty’s infectious energy was there to brighten the day.

As weeks turned into months, The Radiant Roast transformed into more than just a café. It became a sanctuary where unlikely friendships flourished, and even the toughest individuals found moments of peace. For its patrons, it was truly a home away from home.

Chapter 6

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he approached Crimson’s grand office building, the box of freshly baked treats in his hands radiating warmth through the crisp morning air. He had spent hours perfecting the recipes and wanted Crimson to be the first to taste them. Niffty’s teasing voice still echoed in his mind.

“Dad, how sweet of you! Letting your boyfriend have the first bite,” she had giggled, her mischievous grin lighting up her face. Alastor had tried to brush her off, but the deep blush on his face had only fueled Loona’s laughter.

Loona, who had recently moved in with him and Niffty, had quickly become an unexpected but welcome addition to their unconventional family. Though polar opposites, the two girls had bonded swiftly. Niffty, ever the chatterbox, had finally found someone to share her antics with beyond her online friend.

As Alastor reached the entrance, two of Crimson’s men opened the door for him.
“Good morning, Alastor,” they greeted with shy smiles.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Alastor replied smoothly, flashing one of his signature dazzling grins. “I hope to see you at my café later.”

Both men blushed, nodding quickly.
“Yes, sir!”

Inside, Moxxie spotted him and lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
“Alastor!” he exclaimed, practically skipping over.

Alastor handed him the box of cinnamon rolls with a playful smirk.
“Make sure your dad doesn’t find these this time, sweetheart,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Moxxie grinned, hugging the box tightly.
“Thanks, Alastor! You’re the best!” He darted off but paused briefly. “Oh, and thanks again!”

Alastor chuckled.
“A grown man stealing cinnamon rolls from his own son. Truly adorable.”

As he made his way through the building, more of Crimson’s men greeted him warmly. Some waved, others smiled, and a few murmured polite good mornings. Alastor returned every gesture with charm and grace. Soon, he reached Crimson’s office, knocking lightly before peeking his head inside.

Crimson looked up from his desk, irritation written across his face.
“Who the hell—” His scowl melted as soon as he saw Alastor. “You’re late, Deer.”

Alastor stepped inside, laughing softly.
“Darling, your men were so kind, I simply had to stop and chat. Don’t pretend you even noticed the time.”

Crimson glared half-heartedly before sighing.
“Get in here.”

Alastor set the box of treats on the desk, along with a steaming mug of coffee, and gracefully slid into the chair beside him.
“What’s put you in a sour mood this morning?”

Crimson rubbed his temples.
“Family problems. Another branch trying to start trouble, and now I have to clean up the mess. You know how family is.”

Alastor’s expression softened.
“I can’t say I know what that’s like. I didn’t really have a family when I was alive. It was just me and Ma. My father left right after I was born, he was pissed that I looked too much like her.” Crimson sipped his coffee, his gaze thoughtful. “But that’s why I treasure what my café has brought me. You, your son, your... men,” he added with a knowing smirk. “It feels like I’ve gained a family. It’s no longer just me and Niffty. I even have two friends now, and one of their kids has become my daughter’s best friend.”

Crimson swallowed hard, his mouth opening as if to say something, but he quickly shut it again. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded toward the box.
“What did you bring me this time, Deer?”

Alastor sighed softly, then smiled.
“Darling, I’ve made some new treats and want your opinion before I start selling them.”

Crimson opened the box, revealing five different pastries, each more decadent than the last. His mouth watered as he sampled them, and after finishing, he leaned back with a satisfied groan.

“Well, Deer, I won’t lie to you. Three are amazing—absolutely perfect. The other two? They need work.”

Alastor nodded, taking notes as Crimson described what was missing. He appreciated the honesty, knowing Crimson would never sugarcoat his opinions.

Crimson leaned forward, his face inches from Alastor’s. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Crimson’s lips hovered dangerously close to Alastor’s when the door burst open.

“Dad, do you know where—” Moxxie froze, his wide eyes darting between the two men. Crimson immediately pulled back, clearing his throat as Alastor’s face turned a deep shade of crimson to match his lover’s name.

“I... I should go,” Alastor stammered, standing abruptly. “Let you get back to business.”

But as he turned, Crimson reached out, gently grabbing his arm.
“Tonight, make me dinner, Deer,” he said softly. “I’ll bring the whiskey. I’ll even pay for the kids to go out.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped. He quickly pulled out his phone, texting Niffty with shaking hands and attaching a picture for proof.

Meanwhile, at the café, Niffty was chatting with Striker and Blitz when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, let out a shriek, and nearly dropped her phone.
“Oh my Mr. Clean!”

Blitz jumped to his feet, ready for battle.
“What? Who? Where?!”

Striker grabbed the phone, read the text, and started laughing.
“Well, damn. The boss finally grew a pair.”

Blitz snatched the phone, staring in disbelief.
“Hot damn! Al’s gonna get laid tonight!”

Niffty gagged.
“Ew! That’s my dad! Stop it!”

Loona burst in, knife in hand.
“Who needs stabbing?”

Striker smirked.
“Looks like you’ve been rubbing off on Loona, Niffty.”

Back in the office, Alastor smiled shyly.
“Should I wear something fancy?”

Crimson grinned.
“I’d rather see you in nothing after we eat.”

“Ew! Dad!” Moxxie exclaimed, gagging dramatically.

Alastor’s blush deepened, but he chuckled softly.
“We’ll see, darling. It depends on what kind of whiskey you bring.”

Chapter 7

The kitchen was alive with Alastor’s cheerful humming as he swayed to a tune only he could hear, his rich, melodic voice filling the café-turned-home. The warm, inviting aroma of dinner wafted through the air. Every detail had been lovingly prepared, from the rosemary-crusted roast to the delicate desserts chilling in the fridge.

As he stirred the sauce, a chuckle escaped his lips. “What a lovely evening this will be,” he mused, sprinkling herbs into the pan with a flourish. His red eyes sparkled with anticipation, imagining Crimson’s reaction. Tonight had to be perfect.

“I can’t believe it,” Niffty began, her voice barely above a whisper and quaking with anxiety. “My online friend—Moxxie—is Crimson’s son. The same Crimson my dad is cooking dinner for right now!”
Loona raised an eyebrow and snorted. “That’s rich. You’ve been gossiping with your online friend, betting on which of your dads would make a move on the neighbor first—only for them to be the same people? That’s next-level soap-opera drama.” A smirk played on her lips. “That Blitz sneaks off to watch when he thinks no one’s looking.”

“It’s not funny!” Niffty wailed, burying her face in the pillow. “I told Moxxie so many embarrassing things—about me and about Dad! What if he tells Crimson? What if Crimson thinks less of Dad because of it? Or—what if Crimson wants nothing to do with him anymore? Dad would be heartbroken!”

Loona blinked, her smirk faltering as she realized how serious Niffty’s distress was. “Wait, hold up. What did you tell Moxxie?” She shifted closer, her ears perking up.
Niffty’s voice dropped to a frightened whisper. “I told him about Pride...”
Loona tilted her head. “Pride? What happened there?” She hesitated. “I always wondered how you and your dad ended up here in Greed. You just... showed up.”

Tears welled up in Niffty’s eyes as she peeked up from her pillow. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
Loona frowned, sensing the weight behind Niffty’s words. “Sure. I promise.”

Unbeknownst to them, Striker and Blitz were nearby, cleaning up the café for them. They froze as they overheard the conversation, sharp ears picking up every word. Striker’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. Blitz’s tail lashed with restrained anger. They exchanged a glance, wordlessly agreeing that whatever they were about to hear wouldn’t sit well.

Niffty took a shuddering breath, clutching Loona’s arm like a lifeline. Her small frame trembled as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know how the princess of Hell started that hotel to redeem sinners, right?”

Loona nodded cautiously, glancing at her friend with a worried expression. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice careful. “But what’s that got to do with you and your dad? You didn’t actually believe in all that redemption stuff, did you?”
Niffty gave a hollow, humorless laugh, her grip tightening on Loona’s arm. “My dad sold his soul to save me.”

Loona’s jaw tightened at the words. Her brows furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing her features. “What do you mean, sold?”
Niffty inhaled sharply, fighting to steady herself. “I don’t remember everything,” she admitted shakily. “I just know they sold Dad’s soul away. I don’t even remember why I was with that noble, but they sold his soul to the Queen of Hell. She gave him to Charlie to help manage the hotel. But his real job wasn’t to help Charlie redeem anyone. It was to protect the princess—her safety came first.”

Her voice broke, and for a moment, it seemed like she couldn’t continue. Loona’s gaze softened as she waited for Niffty to steady herself.
“If anything happened to her,” Niffty continued, her voice cracking, “he was supposed to die in her place.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Striker’s lips pulled back into a snarl. His hatred for blue bloods was well-known, especially after they were the ones who had killed his parents. Blitz’s tail snapped against the counter as his fiery gaze burned into the floor, his hands clenched in a tight fist.
Niffty clung to the pillow so tightly her small hands were turning white. Her expression was distant, as though caught in a memory too painful to voice. Across from her, Loona frowned, crossing her arms.

“Why would the queen ever think Alastor could protect the princess?” Loona muttered, her tail flicking with irritation. “Alastor doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly. A fly would hurt him first.”
Niffty turned her gaze to Loona, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “Dad… he was a serial killer when he was alive,” she said softly.
Loona blinked, taken aback. “Wait, what?”

“But not the kind you think,” Niffty continued, her voice trembling slightly. “He went after people who hurt kids and…” She hesitated, her hands clenching into tiny fists. “Rapists. People like Vox and Val.”
Loona’s eyes widened in shock. Vox and Valentino—those are our overlords. Why would Niffty mention them specifically? Loona’s unease grew as Niffty’s words sank in.
“No one else cared about those victims, Loona,” Niffty said, her voice breaking. “If they were poor, if society thought they didn’t matter—no one would lift a finger. But Dad did.”

Loona felt her throat tighten. She didn’t know what to say, especially as Niffty’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Dad cried for me when no one else did. He held my body that night. I... I felt love. I remember there was screaming, but I don’t know whose.”
The tears started then, and Loona’s heart twisted at the sight. “I don’t fully remember, but Loona, I know I was scared, and it hurt; it hurt a lot, Loona. And Dad—Dad got revenge on the ones who hurt me.”

 

Loona pulled Niffty into a gentle hug, her usual snark absent. “Your dad’s a hero, Niffty,” she said quietly. “And he loves you enough to find you here, even if you aren’t his by blood.”
“I’m just glad you have Alastor,” she added after a moment. The thought of saying anything else—anything more truthful—made her stomach churn. She was happy her friend had someone, yes, but the circumstances were horrifying.

Niffty wiped her eye and smiled through the tears. “Dad started a radio station in Pride,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You’ve probably heard of him. He’s the Radio Demon.”
Loona froze. “Wait, your dad is that Alastor?” A low whistle escaped her. “Damn. I love his station. And that voice… wow.”
Niffty nodded. “Dad loves music. It’s how he made money and took care of us. He didn’t want to kill anymore—not in Hell. He just wanted to keep me safe. But…” Her voice faltered. “He made enemies. Vox especially.”

“Vox?” Loona asked sharply, her ears flattening.
“He wanted Dad,” Niffty said bitterly. “Creepy and obsessive. When Dad kept turning him down, Vox made a deal with Heaven. He offered to kill Charlie… in exchange for Dad.”
Loona stiffened, her claws flexing. From the corner, Striker snarled low under his breath, and Blitz’s crimson eyes glinted with rage.

“Vox attacked the hotel with angels,” Niffty whispered. “Dad stepped in front of Charlie to protect her and got stabbed with an angelic blade. It missed his heart, but he was barely breathing when Lucifer arrived.”
Her voice cracked as fresh tears fell. “Vox nearly…” She couldn’t finish.
Loona tightened her hold on Niffty, stroking her hair soothingly. “It’s okay, Niffty. Your dad’s safe now. No one here will let anyone hurt him.”

 

Niffty's sobs shook her body as she spoke. "Lucifer saved him," she cried out.
“He healed Dad and freed his soul from his ex-wife. He even offered to
turn Dad into a Hellborn, so he wouldn’t have to be a sinner anymore.

But Dad refused; all he wanted was peace for our family and a chance at a fresh start." Striker's low voice growled. “Blue-blooded bastards don’t know how to properly show gratitude."
And Blitz added with clenched fists, "And they sure as hell don't take responsibility when one of their own messes up."
“Those of Pride have wronged our family. They will face consequences for their actions.”

Striker rested a comforting hand on Blitz’s shoulder. “But it's not up to us. Crimson will make the call. And if he orders it, we'll unleash Hell upon anyone who has harmed Alastor or Niffty. All of them, except for the blue bloods."
Blitz reluctantly agreed, his tail swishing in agitation.

In the kitchen, Alastor sang cheerfully as he prepared dinner, blissfully unaware of the heavy conversation that had taken place. His jazzy voice filled the room, lightening the mood despite everything.
“♪ Oh, tonight’s the night, a dinner for two, with the one who’s stolen my heart… ♪”

Striker locked up the café and cast a final glance towards the kitchen. "He's too nice for this place."
Blitz nodded in agreement.
“Alastor took them in as family; he let Loona move in with him and his daughter. He's like a brother to them."
Together, they left, determined to stand by Alastor no matter what Crimson might demand of them. Family always comes first, and Pride had crossed a line that they couldn't ignore.

Chapter 8

Moxxie couldn't sit still, wringing his hands as he watched Crimson pace back and forth in front of the whisky shelf. His dad's intense focus on choosing the perfect bottle for dinner only made Moxxie's stomach twist even more. Should he tell him? Or should he wait for Alastor to reveal his past on his own? But what if Crimson said something that triggered painful memories? The tension in the room was palpable as Crimson mused aloud about getting flowers, wondering whether red roses or lilies would be better for Alastor.
Moxxie gulped audibly, his nerves getting the better of him. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Hey, Dad... how mad would you be if I knew something bad happened to Alastor and Niffty and... didn’t tell you?”

Crimson’s hand froze mid-reach, his eyes narrowing as he slowly turned to face his son. His expression darkened into a mix of suspicion and barely restrained anger. “Moxxie,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you’d better be speaking hypothetically. Because if you’ve been keeping something from me about my deer, I’m going to be very, very pissed.”
Before Moxxie could stammer out a response, the door swung open, and Striker and Blitz strolled in. Their expressions were grim, though Blitz couldn’t resist a smirk as he spotted Moxxie.
“Oh, good,” Blitz drawled. “Looks like Moxxie’s going to be the one to tell the boss what we just found out.”

Striker leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp grin making Moxxie wince. “Go on, kid. Tell your father what Niffty told you, her online friend. We’ll wait.”
Moxxie's face drained of color. "Why did you have to tell Loona, Niffty? Especially when those two were nearby," he grumbled under his breath. He gulped nervously, shifting his eyes between Crimson, Blitz, and Striker.
Crimson’s grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Moxxie,” he growled, his voice even quieter now, “what. Do. You. Know?”

“Um, Dad...” Moxxie stuttered nervously, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess, “When Alastor and Niffty were living in Pride, some terrible events occurred. Alastor made a deal with a blue blood and sold his soul to save Niffty. But then his soul was traded... to the queen of Hell.” Moxxie hesitated, dreading the reaction that would appear on Crimson's face. “But don't worry, Dad—Lucifer has released him from that contract. Before that happened, though, he nearly was killed protecting the princess and—”
“And what?” Crimson's voice lowered to a cold whisper.

Moxxie couldn't help but flinch. Blitz interrupted, his tone uncharacteristically
serious. “And he was nearly raped, boss. By Vox. In Overlord. Obsessed and stalking Alastor, Vox was furious that Alastor refused to give him the time of day." Blitz crossed his arms, his tail swishing behind him in agitation.
“Apparently, Vox made a deal with Heaven to kill the princess if he could have Alastor. Lucifer showed up just in time to save him, but not before nearly being killed and assaulted.”

Striker picked up where Blitz left off, his tone dripping with disdain. “Lucifer freed his soul from the queen and even offered to make him a Hellborn. But the cherry on top? That spoiled little princess defended her mother’s actions after Alastor almost died taking a blade meant for her.” Striker’s yellow eyes narrowed. “There’s more, boss. But you’re not gonna want Moxxie here for that part.”

Moxxie winced as the whisky bottle slipped from Crimson’s hand, shattering on the floor. The room fell silent, the only sound the faint crunch of glass under Crimson’s heel as he stepped forward. His face twisted with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his teeth might crack.

“My deer’s soul was taken and sold,” Crimson growled. “He was nearly killed because of the queen and her spoiled brat—and then nearly violated by some overlord?” His voice rose with every word until it was a roar. “Striker. Blitz.”
“Yes, sir?” Striker and Blitz both replied, their tone suddenly formal.

“Go to Pride. Find every sinner, overlord, imp, or lowlife who hurt, plotted against, or even thought about hurting my deer. Kill them. All of them.”
Blitz gave a sharp salute, his grin wicked. “On it, boss. Consider it done.”
Striker’s smirk turned cold. “They won’t see the sunrise.”

“Dad,” Moxxie began, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, “don’t you think this might, you know, piss off Lucifer?”
Crimson turned his glare on Moxxie. “Don’t ‘Dad’ me, Moxxie. You’re taking your new little sister and her friend to the movies tonight. Let her pick whatever she wants, no complaints. Buy whatever snacks they want. Understand?”

Moxxie sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Yes, sir.”
Satisfied, Crimson turned back to his whisky collection and selected a gleaming bottle of golden liquid. “This,” he said with a wicked grin, “is a $1200 whisky. Over 200 years old. Perfect for wooing my future wife tonight.”

Moxxie blinked. “Wait, what?”
Crimson smirked, adjusting his collar. “I’m making my intentions clear tonight. And if Lucifer or anyone else wants to cross me, they’ll have to deal with Mammon.”
“Mammon?” Blitz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crimson chuckled darkly. “Yeah. He’s taken a liking to Alastor’s café. Says it’s his new favorite spot for coffee and pastries. If Pride gets bold, I’ve got leverage. Lucifer doesn’t want to lose Mammon’s support—not when he still technically owns him after his divorce with the queen.”
Striker let out a low whistle. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh, boss?”

“Damn right,” Crimson said, pulling out his phone to order his man to pick up red roses and lilies. “Now get to work. I’ve got a dinner to attend, and my deer deserves nothing but the best.”
As Moxxie reluctantly left to escort Niffty and Loona to the movies and Striker and Blitz prepared for a bloody rampage in Pride, Crimson poured himself a small glass of the whisky that had already been open, savoring it with a self-satisfied smirk. “Let’s see anyone try to mess with what’s mine now,” he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with dangerous determination.

Chapter 9

The café hummed with the soft clatter of plates. Alastor, in black pants and a red shirt with an apron adorned with playful fawns, moved gracefully through the kitchen. His humming blended seamlessly with the vintage melody playing in the background, creating an atmosphere of warmth and ease. Though his mind felt light and carefree, his meticulous attention to every dish betrayed the care he poured into tonight’s dinner. Tonight was special.

Outside, Moxxie stood on the café’s doorstep, nerves gnawing at him. He hadn’t been this anxious since the day Blitz brought Loona to meet the family—a memory that still sent shivers down his spine. Blitz had been beaming with pride over adopting a hellhound, while Moxxie saw nothing but a feral beast ready to pounce. He hesitated, then gave the door a tentative knock.
Before he could even lower his hand, the door flew open, revealing Loona’s sharp glare. Her piercing eyes bore into him, freezing him in place.
“Moxxie,” she growled, her tone already dangerous, “you better not have told your dad.”
Moxxie took an instinctive step back, his laugh nervous and unconvincing. “Haha… funny story, Loona—”

Her growl deepened, her sharp teeth flashing as she jabbed a clawed finger into his chest. “Of course you did! Niffty had been crying her eye out because she’s scared Crimson will stop liking Alastor now! Do you have any idea how hard it was to calm her down?!” Her voice cracked slightly, but her frustration only seemed to grow. “I swear, Moxxie, I never want to see her cry again. She’s the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t make me want to bite their head off.”
Moxxie stumbled back further, waving his hands defensively. “Relax! She has nothing to worry about. My dad isn’t upset with Alastor—he’s furious at Pride. In fact,” he added, his voice lowering conspiratorially, “he’s already given Blitz and Striker the order to, uh, ‘clean.’”

From the back, Niffty peeked out timidly from behind a door, her wide, tear-filled eye shimmering with hope. “He don't hate my dad?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Nope,” Moxxie said warmly, offering her a reassuring smile. “If anything, you should start thinking about wedding plans. By the end of the month, my dad might have Alastor in a wedding dress if he gets his way.” He chuckled. “He even pulled out some $1200 whisky—over 200 years old! I didn’t even know he had whisky that old.”

Niffty froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing a deep red before she erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re joking, right?” she asked, her tears forgotten.
Loona, however, wasn’t laughing. Her sharp gaze stayed fixed on Moxxie. “Are you serious? Your dad is that into Alastor?”
Moxxie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah. Dad’s in deep. He fell hard the day he met him. I may have, uh, teased him a bit to much about someone stealing Alastor away from him.” He grinned sheepishly. “Guess I made him a little paranoid.”

Loona groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Moxxie, you idiot. Do you even know how many messes your dad’s paranoia has caused? Blitz has to clean up those ‘random accidents’ every time Crimson thinks someone’s looking at Alastor the wrong way.”
Moxxie froze, his face turning pale. “W-well, at least Dad’s getting out more,” he offered weakly, adding, “and, uh, he’s got himself a hobby now…”
“Unbelievable,” Loona muttered, rolling her eyes. “Your family’s a nightmare.”

“Speaking of family,” Moxxie said quickly, eager to shift the conversation, “are you two ready for the movies? Dad’s orders. You get to pick whatever you want.”
“Really?” Niffty’s face lit up, her earlier worries replaced with excitement.
“Really,” Moxxie confirmed with a nod.
“Just a second!” Niffty chirped, dashing toward the kitchen. She barreled into Alastor, who was mid-song, wrapping her small arms around his waist.
“Bye, Dad! Have a great dinner with Crimson!” she said brightly, her voice filled with cheer.

Alastor blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before a warm smile softened his face. He gently patted her head. “Thank you, my dear. Enjoy your outing,” he replied with his usual genteel charm.
“Love you! Bye, Dad!” Niffty called as she dashed back to join Loona and Moxxie.
Loona watched the exchange with a rare smirk. “Cute.”
“Adorable,” Moxxie added with a grin. “Now let’s get moving before my dad starts thinking I’m delaying his date on purpose.”

Niffty grabbed Moxxie’s hand as they headed out, her spirits buoyed. She didn’t fully understand the talk of plans or messes, but she knew one thing for sure: Crimson cared deeply for her dad. The few times they’d seen each other, Crimson had always patted her head and told her to be good for Alastor. Though he never stepped fully into the café, he’d blush while watching her father from afar before retreating.
As the café door shut behind them, the soft hum of Alastor’s singing continued, filling the space with a calm joy. Tonight was special—and he was ready.

Chapter 10

Alastor leaned against the kitchen counter, his ever-present grin spreading wider as he imagined the evening ahead. The memory of Niffty’s cheerful “Bye, Dad!” lingered in the air, filling the room with a warmth he hadn’t felt since his time among the living.

Letting out a long, steady breath, his crimson eyes scanned the cozy kitchen. It was surreal, almost like a dream. Niffty—his precious light—was finally thriving. She laughed, made friends, and lived the childhood that had been cruelly stolen from her. He had fought tooth and nail to give her this second chance, though the cost was a burden he bore alone. His gaze flickered to the dim corners of the room, where darker memories clawed their way to the surface.
He couldn’t stop them. He never could.

He remembered the first time he saw her in Hell: broken, insane, and heartbreakingly young. Just shy of her fifteenth birthday, her innocence had been taken in ways that made his very being burn with rage. His fingers tightened on the counter as the image of her lifeless body from that fateful night pushed forward—the blood matting her vivid hair, the hollow space where her left eye had been, the torn and bruised remnants of her small frame. He had cradled her in his arms, tears streaming down his face as her mother, Tiffy, screamed in the background. Tiffy’s voice echoed in his mind still, raw and agonized.

Tiffy. A dear friend, a sister in all but blood. Niffty’s mother had been one of the few people who made his life above bearable. She had scolded him for spoiling Niffty, always teasing, “Uncle Alastor, stop making her so rotten!” Yet her smile had betrayed her pride in the love he showed her daughter. They had been a family, hadn’t they? A fleeting happiness, gone in an instant. Tiffy’s suicide only a week after Niffty’s murder had left a wound that never healed. He had searched endlessly for her in Hell, calling out through his broadcasts, desperate for even a trace of her soul. But she never came.

Sometimes, he dared to hope she had made it to Heaven, though the thought felt like a fragile lie.
Alastor’s grin faltered as the memories twisted further. The men responsible for Niffty’s suffering—their faces haunted him as much as the child they had destroyed. Oh, how they had begged when he found them. His grin darkened, sharp and feral. He had taken their eyes, their tongues, and more.

Their screams had been a symphony of justice as he made them pay for every shred of agony they had inflicted. The ringleader, though, had been his masterpiece. He dragged him into despair so profound, the man’s screams turned to incoherent babbles, a cruel mirror of Niffty’s last moments.
A sharp inhale steadied him. “Now, now,” Alastor murmured to himself, his voice light and sing-song. “No dreadful thoughts before dinner, dear boy. That simply will not do!” He adjusted his apron, letting his attention return to the meal.

The aroma of rosemary-crusted roast filled the room, mingling with the scent of spiced vegetables and fresh-baked rolls. Each dish was a labor of love, crafted with meticulous care. The table was set to perfection: fine linens, flickering candles, and crystal glasses standing ready for the whisky Crimson was bringing over. From the record player, soft jazz drifted through the air, soothing and warm.

He glanced at the clock—7:45. His grin returned. “Oh dear, I’m running dreadfully behind!” he exclaimed, hurrying upstairs. He stripped off his apron and exchanged it for his finest attire: a crisp white shirt under a rose-red vest, paired with tailored trousers and polished black shoes. As a finishing touch, he stood before the mirror and undid the magic that kept his hair neat and straight. With a flick of his fingers, auburn curls sprang to life, framing his face in a soft, tousled bob.

He smiled at his reflection, smoothing the curls. Tonight, he’ll see me as I am—the real Alastor.
When the knock came, his heart fluttered. Composing himself, he descended the stairs with his signature bounce and opened the door.
Crimson stood there, the picture of sophistication in a tailored suit. His sharp eyes softened the moment they met Alastor’s. But then his gaze caught on Alastor’s hair, and his expression shifted to astonishment.

“How… how did you get a wig that looks so real?” Crimson asked, his voice low with disbelief.
Alastor’s laughter rang out, light and musical. “Oh, darling, this isn’t a wig.” He stepped closer, running a hand through the curls. “This is my real hair.”
Crimson blinked, his confusion giving way to awe. “How?”

Alastor raised a finger to his lips, his grin playful. “Magic,” he whispered. “It’s not something I use often, and I’d prefer it remain our little secret.”
Crimson stepped forward, his expression softening further. “Don’t worry, deer. No one will know.” The promise in his tone was quiet but unshakable.
Alastor’s smile softened, his sharp edges melting under Crimson’s gaze. He only blinked when Crimson held out a bouquet of red roses and white lilies, arranged in a gleaming gold vase.
Alastor’s eyes widened. “Darling… It’s exquisite,” he whispered, his voice carrying genuine awe. He stepped aside to let Crimson in. “Shall we?”

As Crimson entered, the warmth of the room welcomed him. The soft glow of candlelight, the inviting scents of dinner, and the gentle jazz notes melted the tension from his shoulders.
Tonight, the chaos of Hell could wait. Here, it was just the two of them—a carefully prepared dinner, soft candlelight, and the quiet comfort of an unexpected bond. For once, the past could remain where it belonged, and the present was theirs to savor.

Chapter 11

Crimson carefully pulled a bottle from his coat, the amber liquid inside catching the warm glow of candlelight. Alastor’s eyes widened, immediately recognizing the bottle’s craftsmanship and the promise of its contents.
“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice lilting with curiosity, “how old is that whisky?”

Crimson smirked, setting the bottle on the table with deliberate care. “Just a little over 200 years.”
Alastor blinked, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief. “Ha, very funny, Crimson.”

“I’m not joking,” Crimson replied, his smirk widening. “It’s just little over 200 years old. I considered bringing the 500-year-old one, but I thought I’d save that for... a more special occasion.”
Alastor froze, his grin faltering for just a moment as he studied Crimson’s face. He wasn’t joking. The weight of that gesture settled in Alastor’s chest, the thought of the 500-year-old whisky lingering like a silent promise for a future moment they might share. Warmth blossomed inside him, the kind that had nothing to do with the whisky before him.

“Darling,” Alastor finally said, his voice softening, “thank you. I... I’m not sure what to say.”
“Don’t say anything yet,” Crimson replied, pulling out a chair for Alastor and gesturing for him to sit. Once Alastor had settled, Crimson slid the chair forward before taking his own seat across the table.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the soft hum of jazz and the flickering of candlelight. The two men sat in a rare silence, studying each other, as though trying to read the unspoken thoughts lingering between them. Finally, Crimson broke the quiet.
“So,” he began, his voice casual, “what do you like to do when you’re not working or looking after your daughter?”

Alastor’s smile widened, his hands folding gracefully atop the table. “Apart from baking, I adore music and dancing. Back in Pride, I was a radio host. I even used to sing on occasion. People told me I had a rather captivating voice.”

Crimson nodded, though his smile faltered momentarily as the memories of Alastor’s hardships in Pride flickered in his mind. He buried his bitterness behind a smooth reply. “I’d say they were right. Maybe someday you could put on a show just for me.”
Alastor’s grin turned sly, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes. “Darling, if you behave tonight, I might just convince you to join me for a duet.”

Crimson choked on a sip of whisky, his face warming at the thought—his voice mingling with Alastor’s, their harmony weaving something more intimate than words. “I... uh...” He cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. “Are you sure you want that?”

Alastor chuckled, leaning forward on the table with a teasing lilt. “What’s the matter, darling? Afraid singing with little old me might make you blush?”
Crimson recovered quickly, flashing a confident smirk. “Not at all. I’m more of a dancer.” His tone dropped into a low murmur. “I’d rather you keep singing while I move your body.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, humming with satisfaction as his ceyes sparkled with amusement. “Good to know. But enough about me, darling. Let’s turn the spotlight on you. When you’re not buried under paperwork, refereeing family drama, or lurking outside my café to pat Niffty on the head before running off, what do you enjoy doing?”

 

Crimson arched a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You noticed that?”
“Darling, I notice everything,” Alastor replied smoothly, adding a playful wink that made Crimson’s chest tighten.

Crimson shook his head with a low chuckle. “Honestly? Not much. That’s my life—work, family, and trying to keep Moxxie from driving me insane.” He hesitated, his voice softening. “You’ve been... a welcome distraction.”
Alastor tilted his head, his smile gentler now. “I’m glad to hear that. But is that really all you do? No hobbies? No guilty pleasures? Nothing just for yourself?”

Crimson hesitated, his smirk widening into something sly. “I’ve gotten into people-watching. Does that count?”
Alastor rolled his eyes with theatrical flair. “Please tell me you actually speak to some of these people, Crimson.”

“Oh, I talk to them,” Crimson said lightly, swirling the whisky in his glass. But his thoughts darkened as he added inwardly, I talk to them right before I put a bullet in their heads for looking at you a little too long.

Seemingly oblivious to the subtext, Alastor’s grin sharpened. “Good. I’d hate to think you were isolating yourself too much. Although,” he continued with a teasing edge, “I’d like to see you actually visit my café during business hours. You know, like a normal patron—not some shadow lurking outside.”
Crimson’s brow quirked. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Alastor laughed, the sound warm and musical, a melody in its own right. “Darling, this is a private dinner in the back of my café. That hardly counts.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “I want you to see it during the day, to truly experience the place I’ve built.”

Crimson’s smirk faltered, giving way to a rare moment of honesty. “Maybe someday.” His tone softened, carrying more weight than the words themselves. “But for now, I’m glad to be seeing this side of you—your home.”
A faint blush crept across Alastor’s cheeks, his confidence momentarily giving way to something vulnerable. He gestured toward the food, recovering with his usual charm. “Shall we?”

Crimson nodded, cutting into the rosemary-crusted roast. The first bite was a revelation—the meat tender and perfectly seasoned, the flavors dancing on his tongue. It was, without a doubt, one of the finest meals he’d ever had. But his focus kept drifting.

He watched as Alastor lifted a delicate forkful of vegetables to his lips, his expression lighting up as he hummed in approval. The sound, soft and unguarded, sent a shiver down Crimson’s spine. He traced the line of Alastor’s neck, the way the candlelight kissed his skin, and the way his curls framed his face like a crown of auburn fire.

Crimson shifted in his seat, heat pooling low in his gut as he fought to rein in his wandering thoughts. Get a grip, he scolded himself. But it was no use. The sight of Alastor—graceful, radiant, and utterly at ease—was impossible to ignore.

“Darling?” Alastor’s voice broke through his haze, pulling him back to the present.
Crimson blinked, realizing Alastor was watching him with a curious tilt of his head. “Hmm?”

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Alastor observed, his tone light but tinged with amusement. “Is the food not to your liking?”
Crimson cleared his throat, forcing a smirk onto his face. “The food’s perfect, deer. I’m just... distracted.”
Alastor’s grin turned coy, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh? By what, pray tell?”

Crimson raised his glass, hiding his expression as he took a slow sip of whisky. His voice was low, almost a growl. “By you.”
Alastor’s laughter bubbled up, warm and genuine, filling the room with a brightness that chased away any lingering shadows. The tension in Crimson’s chest eased, replaced by something softer—an unspoken connection that neither of them dared to name.

Chapter 12

As the meal wound down, Alastor leaned back in his chair, his grin as radiant as the soft glow of the candlelight that illuminated the cozy space. The whisky glasses were only half-emptied, and an air of lingering warmth settled between them like a comfortable blanket. With a flourish, Alastor extended his hand toward Crimson, his eyes gleaming with playful intent.

“Darling,” Alastor began, his smooth voice inviting and musical, “would you care for a dance?”

Crimson’s grin widened as he rose from his seat, taking Alastor’s hand with a firm yet gentle grip. “I thought you’d never ask, deer.”

With a graceful pull, Alastor led Crimson to the open space between the table and the record player. A jazzy love song began to play, its melody rich and smooth, weaving a tapestry of romance around them. The singer crooned softly, the lyrics carrying promises of unity and tenderness:

“Alone together, the blinding rain
The starless night was not in vain.
For we're together.
And what is there to fear together?”

As the music filled the room, Alastor chuckled softly and began to sing along, his voice melting effortlessly into the tune. The sound was rich and hypnotic, each note delivered with the same captivating energy that defined Alastor himself.

Crimson raised a brow, smirking. “Singing to this? You’re not trying to give me ideas, are you?”

Alastor winked, his grin broadening. “Would that be such a bad thing, darling?”

Their movements synchronized as naturally as the rhythm of the song itself, each step a seamless blend of instinct and intent. Crimson pulled Alastor closer, his hand settling at the small of his back while his other hand held Alastor’s tightly. For a brief moment, Crimson rested his head against Alastor’s chest, feeling the steady hum of his voice reverberate through him.

Crimson’s tail curled around them in an almost subconscious gesture, a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness. Alastor stiffened momentarily at the unfamiliar touch but quickly relaxed, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he leaned into the moment.

They spun gently, their movements slowing as the music built toward its final verse. Crimson, wearing a sly grin, suddenly dipped Alastor. Alastor let out a surprised laugh, his voice bright and clear.

“Crimson!” Alastor exclaimed, half-teasing. “Warn me next ti—”

Before he could finish, Crimson leaned in and kissed him. The world seemed to still, the music fading into a quiet hum as their lips met. Alastor’s eyes widened in shock before fluttering shut, surrendering to the unexpected tenderness of the moment. The kiss was gentle yet electrifying, a perfect blend of passion and unspoken promises.

When Crimson finally pulled away, Alastor’s cheeks were flushed, his expression unusually shy. A rare, soft smile graced his lips as he straightened, smoothing his vest with deliberate care.

The song ended, leaving the room in a still, intimate silence broken only by the soft crackle of the record player. Alastor’s fingers brushed lightly against Crimson’s as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving Crimson’s. “Well,” he purred, his voice velvety, “you certainly know how to leave an impression.”

Crimson smirked, leaning casually against the edge of the counter. “What can I say? I aim to please.”

With a knowing look, Alastor began gathering the plates and glasses, his movements efficient and graceful. “Darling, while I tidy up, why don’t you handle a little task for me?”

Crimson raised a brow. “And what task would that be?”

Alastor turned, his smile sly and teasing. “Ask Moxxie to take the girls to your home tonight. I’d hate for them to interrupt us while we’re... singing sweet melodies.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Crimson's chest as he pulled out his phone. His fingers moved quickly over the screen as he typed a message: "Son, take your sister and her friend home with you tonight. I'm staying with my deer." Satisfied, he put his phone back into his pocket and observed Alastor expertly stacking plates with a small smile on his lips. The way Alastor moved with effortless grace and confidence was something Crimson could definitely get used to. Suddenly, his phone vibrated again, interrupting his thoughts. He retrieved it to see a reply from Moxxie: "Okay, Dad. Just make sure he can walk tomorrow." Crimson's jaw clenched as he responded: "Moxxie, shut up."

Moxxie chuckled to himself as he put his phone back in his pocket, standing outside a dimly lit movie theater. Loona and Niffty shared confused glances.

"What's so funny?" Loona asked, her expression dubious.

Moxxie grinned mischievously and shrugged. "Looks like we're having a sleepover at my place tonight. My dad and Alastor need some... alone time."

Loona sighed in annoyance while Niffty froze, her cheeks turning bright red as she suddenly understood. "Ohhh..."

Determined to lighten the mood, Moxxie clapped his hands together. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and pick out a few movies. If we're stuck together, we might as well have fun!"

Loona reluctantly agreed while Niffty perked up and started excitedly talking about different popcorn flavors and fun activities they could do. Meanwhile, back at Alastor's, the night was just getting started, and both Crimson and Alastor had no plans of ending it anytime soon.

Chapter 13

Crimson watched how Alastor slowly undid his shirt buttons one by one, with a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he watched Crimson watch him. Their breathing quickened as they stared at each other, the tension between them almost tangible. In a husky voice, Alastor asked how long Crimson had desired him. Crimson couldn't help but stare at the way Alastor's soft curls fell around his face, framing his features perfectly.

"My deer," Crimson replied, "I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you." As Alastor finished unbuttoning Crimson's shirt and kissed his neck, he gently ran his hand over some scars on Crimson's body. Alastor smiled, whispering, “I love you, darling,” against Crimson's skin.

Meanwhile, Crimson reached out to slowly undo the buttons of Alastor's vest and then shirt, relishing in the feeling of Alastor's skin against his fingertips. As Alastor continued kissing his neck with fervent passion, Crimson traced a scar above his nipple and pulled him closer to place a kiss above his heart, where another scar lay.

The moment was filled with intense emotions and unspoken words as they explored each other's bodies, discovering new scars and sharing tender kisses along the way. If the knife had been slightly lower, Alastor may not have survived, but he was here now, lying in front of Crimson, exposed and vulnerable.

As Alastor's eyes widened and then closed in pleasure, he gasped as Crimson lowered him onto the bed and unzipped his pants. "Darling, I'm not one for romance; it's never been my thing," Crimson said with a chuckle. "But I want to shower you with whatever affection I can offer." Alastor laughed in response.

"Don't worry, I love your sour face and grumpy attitude. It only makes your affection for me even more special." Despite not being a romantic person, Crimson adored his deer deeply and wanted to express it in every way possible. He trailed his fingers along Alastor's cock, admiring its cuteness just like the rest of him.

As Alastor's breaths became more rapid and his chest heaved with desire, Crimson continued to show him affection by petting and stroking him. When pre-cum began to drip from Alastor's arousal, Crimson smirked and stopped his ministrations, causing Alastor to whine in frustration before begging for more. With a kiss to Alastor's lips, Crimson slowly removed his own pants, teasing Alastor with the promise of a passionate night ahead.

As he climbed onto the bed, Crimson placed Alastor's legs over his shoulders, causing Alastor to watch with bated breath. Instead of resuming his previous actions, Crimson surprised Alastor with skilled and precise exploration of his deepest desires, sending waves of pleasure through his body while holding onto his hips. As their passion grew, Crimson couldn't help but admire Alastor's size—or lack thereof—commenting on its cuteness before taking it in his hand and teasing it with delicate strokes.

Crimson's fingers danced across Alastor's skin, bringing him closer and closer to release until he was begging for it. Without hesitation, Crimson took Alastor in his mouth, moving his head in a slow rhythm as he moaned in pleasure. Finally, Alastor reached climax, and Crimson eagerly welcomed it into his mouth, savoring every drop with a satisfied smile on his lips.

As Alastor's mind cleared from the intense pleasure, he opened his eyes to see Crimson greedily licking his lips. With a mischievous grin, Crimson slowly licked around Alastor's now flaccid member and purred, "Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?" Alastor blushed deeply, feeling vulnerable in that moment, completely under Crimson's control.

As Crimson carefully lowered Alastor's legs back onto the bed, he whispered eagerly into Alastor's ear, his body trembling with anticipation. He lay back, offering himself up to Alastor and eagerly waiting for him to return the favor. With a deep flush on his cheeks, Alastor couldn't help but notice how well-endowed Crimson was despite his small stature.

But he bravely crawled over to him, placing a hand on his chest before trailing kisses down his torso. Suddenly, Crimson let out a pleasured moan as Alastor climbed into his lap and started grinding against his throbbing cock with slow, deliberate movements that elicited guttural moans of pleasure from both men.

The sensation sent electric shocks through their bodies as they moved in perfect rhythm. Crimson couldn't take his eyes off of Alastor, mesmerized by the beauty and skill with which he moved. His lips parted in soft moans of ecstasy, and his hair bounced as he blushed a cute shade of red, whispering Crimson's name over and over again. As their hips met in perfect harmony, Crimson reached up and grabbed onto Alastor's hips tightly, grunting louder with each movement.

He hadn't fully entered him yet. Crimson wrapped his tail around Alastor while Alastor gasped in shock. "Not yet, my pretty deer," Crimson teased. "You're not fully ready to take me yet." Alastor gasped again as Crimson slowly started to stroke him while holding him up with his tail. He gasped and breathed heavily as he was lowered back down, Crimson's hands firmly on his hips again.

Alastor jerked in surprise when he felt Crimson start to enter him slowly, biting his lip and letting out a small whimper. "It's okay, deer," Crimson reassured him. "The pain will ease soon, and then you can move as much as you want." A few minutes later, Alastor started moving, riding Crimson slowly at first and then picking up speed until he was bouncing on top of him.

Crimson grunted as he watched his dear move above him, amazed by how beautiful he looked. Finally, the pleasure became too much for Alastor to handle, and he whispered Crimson's name one final time before climaxing and collapsing on top of him. Crimson continued thrusting until he came as well.

They fell asleep together in each other's arms, tangled in sheets while Crimson's tail wrapped around them protectively. Throughout the night, they had passionately connected and reaffirmed their deep love for each other. Crimson made sure that his deer knew just how much he meant to him.

Chapter 14

Crimson’s eyes fluttered open to the soft sound of snores above him. His face was buried in Alastor’s fluffy chest, and he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Somehow, during the night, his deer had found his way back on top of him, despite Crimson carefully moving him aside earlier. Gently, Crimson shifted Alastor, intending to lay him back down, but the action earned a soft, bleating noise that made him pause.

Smirking, Crimson muttered under his breath, “So, my deer really does have deer-like tendencies.” He made a mental note to research it later.

Pulling Alastor close into a gentle hug, Crimson whispered, “I’ve got to be leaving soon, deer. And you’ve got to get ready to open your café… unless you’d rather spend the day in my office, being my cute assistant. I could even get you a little slutty office worker dress. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Still half-asleep, Alastor murmured a soft, “Yes.” Crimson chuckled, brushing a kiss against Alastor’s lips. “Deer, are you even awake?” A sleepy “No” came the answer, making Crimson grin. Mischief lit his eyes as he quietly began recording their interaction on his phone.

“Alright, Deer,” Crimson teased, amusement clear in his voice. “should the dress come with a thong or no thong?” “Thong,” Alastor mumbled, still lost in sleep. Crimson snorted with laughter. “I could get you to agree to anything in your sleep, couldn’t I?” “Yes,” Alastor murmured softly. Crimson’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his voice taking on a playful edge.

“I want your lips around my cock while I do paperwork. Will you do that for me?” “...Yes,” Alastor murmured, completely unaware of himself. Crimson snorted, his chest shaking with laughter. “You’re far too agreeable while asleep, Alastor.”

His expression softened as he pulled Alastor closer into his arms. Alastor nuzzled his face into Crimson's chest, finding comfort and security in his embrace. As they lay in bed together, Crimson whispered one last question, his voice full of protectiveness and possessiveness: "Alastor, once we are married, do you want me to protect you and Niffty from anyone who dares to harm you? I promise to keep you both safe."

In his sleep, Alastor murmured a quiet "Yes." Crimson's eyes lit up with satisfaction. He pressed a gentle kiss to Alastor's forehead before carefully laying him back down and slipping out of bed.
Deciding to surprise Alastor with breakfast, Crimson headed to the kitchen. How hard could eggs and toast be? he thought to himself. Moments later, as smoke billowed through the house/café and flames began licking around him, he realized he’d grossly overestimated his culinary skills.

“Damn it!” Crimson cursed, racing upstairs. Without hesitation, he scooped a still-sleeping Alastor into his arms—blanket and all—and carried him out of the smoky chaos.
By the time Crimson’s men arrived to put out the fire, Alastor was groggily waking up. Blinking a few times, his eyes took in his surroundings. To his surprise, he was sitting in Crimson’s lap—in the man’s office, no less.

“Darling,” Alastor began, his voice thick with sleep, “what happened?”
Crimson grimaced, clearly embarrassed. “I… tried to make you breakfast. And I may have… accidentally started a fire.”

 

Alastor blinked again, processing his lover’s words. “You what?”
Crimson tightened his hold on him, his voice softening. “Alastor, it’s best you don’t look. The fire… it’s still going.”

Alastor’s ears drooped as realization dawned. “My café is burning down right now, isn’t it?”
Crimson winced. “Yes.”

“And I’m naked,” Alastor added, glancing down at himself wrapped in just a blanket.
“I’m sorry, Alastor,” Crimson said earnestly, his eyes filled with guilt. “I’ll fix it. I’ll replace everything.”
Alastor sighed, torn between frustration and the visible regret on Crimson’s face. After a long pause, he finally said, “Darling, never, ever cook again. Leave that to me.”
Crimson raised an eyebrow, his amusement returning as he watched Alastor’s ears twitch nervously.

“In fact,” Alastor continued, “I’ll handle all the housework. You’re clearly better suited to your paperwork and… whatever it is you do at work. I’ll be the housewife, and you can be my husband.” Both of their eyes widened at his words, the weight of what he’d just implied hitting them simultaneously. Crimson smirked, leaning in closer. “I agree, deer. You’d make the perfect housewife, and I can be your husband.”

Outside the office door, Moxxie, Loona, and Niffty exchanged bewildered glances as they overheard everything. Moxxie stifled a laugh as he whispered, “Well, guess they’ve got it all figured out.” With a collective shrug, the trio decided to leave the lovebirds alone, retreating with knowing smiles.

Back in the office, the chaos of the morning seemed to fade into obscurity as Crimson pulled Alastor closer into his arms. Alastor perched delicately in his lap, their bodies pressed together in a fiery embrace. Their lips met in a deep and passionate kiss, sending waves of longing and regret coursing through Crimson's body.

As their kiss intensified, all tension melted away and was replaced by an overwhelming passion. In that moment, the flames of their love burned even brighter than the fire that had ravaged Alastor's beloved café. Lost in their own world, Crimson and Alastor found solace in each other's arms, shutting out the chaotic outside world and basking in the warmth of their love.

Chapter 15

Mammon reclined in his office, surrounded by stacks of cinnamon rolls—the gooey, sugary indulgence that fueled his every whim. Boxes towered around him like sugary fortresses. Even with over 350 boxes left, Mammon gazed at the diminishing pile with a mixture of exaggerated worry and annoyance.

 

As he lazily picked up another gooey roll, his golden eyes gleaming with delight as he took a bite.
"Fizzarolli!" Mammon barked, his voice carrying through the air with a strong Aussie twang.

"Get me more of my cinnamon rolls! And while you're at it, invite the owner of that café to Loo Loo World. I want to meet them." With a careless flick of his wrist, Mammon tossed a handful of golden VIP tickets toward Fizzarolli, who barely caught them with a flustered look on his face.

 

Fizzarolli hesitated, "Eh, Mammon... about that," he started, nervously scratching the back of his head. “You might not be able to meet 'em right away."
Mammon’s eyes snapped toward Fizzarolli, mid-chew, a hint of danger simmering in his glare. "What are you on about, mate?"

 

Fizzarolli, sweating now, shifted uneasily. "The café burned down a few days ago. His boyfriend tried to make him breakfast and...” “It, uh, didn’t go well."

Mammon froze, the cinnamon roll in his hand slowly lowering. Mammon's chair creaked as he shot up from it, his imposing presence filling the room. "WHAT?!" The shout rattled the room, making Fizzarolli flinch and immediately take a step back, hands up in defense.

 

"The café’s being’ rebuilt," Fizzarolli rushed to explain. "But the workers—well, some of the workers aren’t cooperating since... well, Crimson’s not around to manage them." He nervously scratched the back of his head. "And his man’s busy keeping watch on Alastor, so they haven’t noticed that Alastor’s been getting disrespected."

 

Mammon’s golden gaze narrowed into slits, his lips curling into a sharp grin. "Crimson? My surly-looking’ mafioso imp? And he’s dating that cute café owner?" He let out a deep chuckle. "Oh, that’s bloody rich."

 

Fizzarolli nodded, unable to meet Mammon’s glare. "Yep. And from what I hear, Alastor doesn’t even know who Crimson really is. Doesn’t have a clue he’s dating the don of the mafia."
Mammon leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he processed the news, a grin forming on Mammon's face. "Oh, this just gets better. And the workers are giving my cinnamon roll maker a hard time, huh?"

 

Fizzarolli paused, clearly uncomfortable, before nodding. "Yep," Fizzarolli confirmed. "Slowing down the rebuild, disrespecting him... It’s a mess."

Mammon leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles with a loud pop. His grin turned razor-sharp, eyes glinting with a dangerous light that made Fizzarolli shiver. "Right,"

 

Mammon said, voice low and full of intent. "I owe Crimson a favor or two anyway. Let’s sort this mess out. I’ll have that café fixed by tonight. The workers?" His tone dropped to a menacing growl. "They’re going to wish they never crossed me."

 

Fizzarolli hesitated, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, one more thing, boss. Lucifer called; he's not happy."
Mammon raised an eyebrow, the edges of his smile faltering. "Why?"

Fizzarolli shifted uncomfortably. "It’s about Crimson’s men. They’ve been... uh, going on a killing’ spree in Pride." He wants you to do something.

 

Mammon leaned forward, the tension in the room thickening. "What for?"
Fizzarolli gulped. "Seems some overlord tried to, y’know..." He hesitated, then quickly blurted it out. "Force himself on Alastor. Crimson’s men are cleaning’ house after the overlord also nearly killed him when he protected Princess Charlie."

 

Mammon’s grin faded entirely, his expression hardening into an icy calm. He stared past Fizzarolli, his mind clearly racing. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet but laced with steel. "Lucifer sent me that sinner... because of his bloody ex-wife. Never once mentioned he was nearly raped." His claws tapped rhythmically on the desk as his gaze sharpened.

 

"So Crimson’s tying up loose ends, huh?"
Fizzarolli nodded quickly. "Yeah, boss. But Lucifer’s pissed. He’s saying the sinner—Alastor—still belongs to him, that he just let him live in Greed for a fresh start. But I think he’s just mad the guy’s doin’ well for himself now."

 

Mammon let out a bark of laughter, sharp and bitter, waving a dismissive hand. "Belongs to him? Lucifer can shove it. That sinner, his café, and those cinnamon rolls belong to me now. The very day Lucifer sent that sinner into my ring, his ownership changed hands." His grin returned, wicked and feral. "He rightfully belongs to Greed."

 

Fizzarolli swallowed audibly. "Right, boss. But Lucifer’s not going to see it that way." “That day I told Lucifer if that sinner enters my ring, he belongs to me; he will have no claim on him any longer.” Mammon eats another cinnamon roll. before also adding that what Crimson’s imps do is none of Lucifer’s damn business, imps can move around any rings.

 

Mammon's tone darkened. "Lucifer can cry about it all he wants. Crimson’s men haven’t touched a royal, haven’t hurt anyone who matters. Until then, Lucifer needs to shut his bitch mouth." His voice darkened further, a low rumble that reverberated through the room. "If those bastards had touched a royal, maybe he’d have a reason to complain. But they didn’t.

 

So he can keep his nose out of my imp’s business and needs to stop being a whiny bitch."

Fizzarolli sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "So... telling Lucifer off is part of the favour, yeah?"
Mammon leaned back, laughing heartily, his Aussie lilt as strong as ever. "Nah, mate. That’s on the house. Consider it a wedding gift for Crimson!"

 

Fizzarolli muttered under his breath, shaking his head as Mammon’s laughter boomed through the room. "Yeah, sure. A wedding gift. Of course." He knew Mammon would take any opportunity to tell his little brother off.
Mammon popped another cinnamon roll into his mouth, chewing contentedly. Then, without warning, he stood, brushing crumbs from his jacket. "Right," he announced. "I’m ready to go."

 

Fizzarolli blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, now? You want to go to the café now?"

Mammon shot him a toothy grin. "Of course I do, mate. Time to fix this mess and remind everyone who they’re dealin’ with."
Fizzarolli groaned but followed, already regretting whatever chaos they were about to unleash.

Chapter 16

The construction site was a mess of half-finished repairs and rubble, but the air was heavier than the chaos it represented. As Mammon and Fizzarolli stepped onto the scene, their presence sent a ripple of unease through some of the workers that saw them. Conversations dropped to murmurs, then silence, as Mammon strode purposefully forward, his eyes scanning the scene.

Standing in the center of it all was Alastor, his slim frame tense as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His patience, already frayed, was nearing its limit. “Can you please get to work?” he snapped, his normally smooth, radio-toned voice sharp with frustration. “My boyfriend is the one paying you!” The demand cut through the air, his crimson eyes flashing with suppressed anger. The workers exchanged looks but didn’t move. A few stifled snickers escaped their ranks.

A burly hellhound, lounging against a half-built wall, barked out a laugh. "That's cute, Bambi. Why don’t you go prance in the woods? I’ll be sure to hunt you down.” His mocking tone was loud, and the other workers joined in with their jeers.
Alastor’s hands lowered slowly, his expression darkening as his lips twisted into a snarl. He opened his mouth, his sharp teeth glinting, but before a single word left him, a small figure darted in front of him.

“Dad!” Niffty’s voice rang out as she skidded to a stop, a kitchen knife gleaming in her tiny hand. She planted herself protectively in front of Alastor, her bright eye burning with fury. “Leave him alone, or I’ll stab you!” she yelled, the ferocity in her voice startling even the jeering workers.

The hellhound who had spoken earlier let out a bark of laughter. “What’s this? The little rugrat thinks she’s scary!” he sneered.
From the sidelines, Loona let out a low growl, her yellow eyes narrowing as she locked on to the offending worker. “Back off,” she warned, her hackles raised.
But another hellhound leaned over to his colleague and muttered something crude about Niffty. The words carried, sharp and slicing through the air.
Alastor froze.

His breath hitched, and his vision blurred. The sounds around him dulled, replaced by a memory—a night of pain, terror, and helplessness. He saw Niffty’s lifeless body in his arms, a scene burned into his mind. He felt the crushing weight of failure, the screams he hadn’t been able to silence. His eyes dimmed as he stood paralyzed, unable to pull himself out of the past.

The workers continued their laughter, oblivious to the storm brewing in the present. “Aw, did we upset the deer?” one of them taunted.
Niffty, however, had no hesitation. The offending hellhound took a step closer, and she lashed out with her knife, her small frame lunging forward. The blade flashed, aiming for his exposed arm.
Loona moved too, darting toward another worker, her fangs bared. But before she could reach him, she was struck hard across the muzzle. She yelped but stayed on her feet, her growl deepening as she bared bloodied teeth.

A few hellhounds at the edge of the group caught sight of Mammon standing motionless behind the scene, his golden eyes gleaming with an ominous light. They paled, their instincts screaming danger. Without a word, they turned and bolted, sprinting away from the site.
Fizzarolli, standing off to the side, pulled out his phone. “Cowards,” he muttered, recording the deserters. “Crimson is gonna love knowing who ran.”

Mammon, still unmoving, let out a low chuckle. His eyes glowed brighter, and flames began to flicker across his form. The laughter turned cold, echoing through the site as the temperature seemed to rise. “You’ve got some nerve,” he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “Harassing my cinnamon roll maker and his kid and hound?”

The scene was chaos, the air thick with tension and the acrid stench of burning sulfur. The remaining workers froze as they finally noticed Mammon, dread dawning on their faces. His towering form radiated raw fury, flames licking at his skin, shimmering with an intensity that promised hellfire. His golden eyes burned with rage.

 

Smell of Loona blood and fear lingered in the air. Loona stood, her phone clutched tightly in her shaking hand, and she typed out a hurried text to Moxxie."Hey shithead, let your dad know the workers are total assholes. They're harassing Alastor and Niffty. Alastor’s frozen like he’s having some PTSD moment. They waited until your dad’s man wasn’t here to pull this."

Her text to Moxxie had already gone through, but the response felt agonizingly slow. Blood dripped from her muzzle. She wiped at it absentmindedly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she quickly typed another message:"I'm scared; I don’t know what to do. They hit me, and Niffty is trying to stab them. Mammon’s here, pissed, and a few of the workers just bolted."

Moxxie sat quietly in the dimly lit warehouse, his phone glowing faintly in his hands. The atmosphere was tense; the sound of a gunshot echoed moments ago, marking the end of Valentina’s life as Crimson pulled the trigger. Blitz and Striker stood nearby, surveying the bloody scene with a cold detachment. Valentina and Vox had been delivered as a gift by the two imps, But Moxxie was barely paying attention. His brow furrowed as he read the frantic messages from Loona.

Blitz, noticing Moxxie’s distracted state, leaned in with a smirk. “Hey, kid. What’s got you so worried over there? girlfriend broke up with you or something?
Moxxie looked up, his expression grim. “No” he said, before addressing Crimson then glancing at the others. “It’s Alastor and Niffty. Loona says the workers at the café have been harassing them. They hit Loona when she tried to help, and Alastor’s frozen—he’s completely unresponsive. Niffty’s been trying to stab them every time they get close, and now Mammon’s shown up. He’s... pissed.”
A growl rumbled from Crimson’s throat, his grip tightening on the still-smoking gun. His piercing gaze met Moxxie’s. “They dared touch my family?” he snarled. “And Mammon’s involved now?”

Moxxie nodded grimly, his thumb nervously scrolling through more texts. “Loona says Mammon’s yelling about cinnamon rolls. Apparently, he’s claiming Alastor as his ‘belongings’ and won’t let anyone harm him or Niffty.”
Crimson turned to Striker and Blitz. “You two clean up here. I’m going to deal with this myself.”

Blitz nodded, his face set in an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Fine by me. The asshole who hit Loona? Leave him to me. She’s tough, but no one messes with my kid and gets away with it.”
Striker grinned darkly. “Don’t worry, boss. We’ll make sure everything’s handled here.”
Crimson turned to Moxxie. “Call Loona. Find out what’s happening.”

Moxxie complied, dialing quickly. Loona answered almost immediately, her voice a mix of exasperation and urgency.
“Moxxie! Shit, Mammon’s here, and—”A booming voice thundered through the phone, cutting her off. “NO ONE TOUCHES WHAT BELONGS TO GREED!” His voice was powerful, and filled with an undeniable authority. He loomed over everyone in his true form—massive and imposing, like an unstoppable force of nature.

A heavy silence followed, as if the world itself had paused to take in his declaration. But then, the silence shattered with bloody screams that echoed across the site, tearing through the tension like a knife. “FUCK! Moxxie, Mammon just killed all the workers!” Loona’s frantic voice crackled through the phone, panic rising in her tone.

“Shit, Alastor just passed out after screaming Niffty’s name. And now Niffty’s gone full psycho—she’s yelling at Mammon!”
In the background, Mammon’s thunderous laughter reverberated, a sound so full of dark amusement it almost made the ground tremble. “LOOK AT THIS TINY LITTLE THING! THIS BRAVE LITTLE SHIT THREATENS TO STAB ME, THE KING OF GREED, FOR HER  DEAR DAD.” His voice carried through the phone, dripping with both condescension and amusement, as he casually lifted Niffty up.

She flailed, helpless, in his massive hand, her face twisted in a mix of fury and fear.
Loona’s voice was practically exhausted as she responded. “And now Mammon’s cooing at her like she’s a damned puppy.”
Mammon’s tone shifted to something far more mocking, yet tinged with a strange fondness. “You’re a brave one, aren’t ya? Protecting ya daddy like that. I respect it. But ya can’t be all stabby-stabby with me, little one.” His words were a twisted mix of admiration and danger, a promise of something both playful and terrifying.

 

Niffty blinked, her feral energy calming slightly as Mammon gently set her back on the ground. His grin widened—sharp and predatory. With a snap of his fingers, the ruined café around them was instantly restored to its pristine state. Loona’s voice came through Moxxie’s phone, clearly in shock: “Mammon actually calmed Niffty down? I think I might have a concussion, because there’s no way the King of Greed would be that... nice.” Moxxie looked over at his dad. Crimson-faced and sour, he gestured for the driver to go faster.

 

“It’s a gift,” Mammon declared, his voice dripping with mock benevolence. “I can’t have my cinnamon roll maker without his café, now can I?”
Niffty and Loona stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
“What?” Mammon chuckled. “I can be nice.” He then leaned down to look at Loona. “Now, little hound, be sure to keep a better job at keeping them safe for me.”

Mammon then noticed the knife Niffty was holding. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a new, sharper one. “Here you go. A much better one—just a little gift from Uncle Mammon.”

Fizzarolli, who had been silently observing, let out an uneasy cough. “Mammon, I don’t think it’s wise to give her another knife.”
Mammon laughed loudly. “Look at that, Fizz! I’ve made her so happy.” Niffty started laughing maniacally, clutching the new knife like a toy. “See? Fizz? She’s thrilled.”

Fizzarolli took a step back, his eyes wide with concern. "Shit, she’s batshit crazy."
Still processing the madness, Fizz remembers the passed-out Alastor. “I’ll get him,” Fizz muttered, bending to pick Alastor up. But one of Crimson’s loyal men came running over, and Fizz handed Alastor off to him.

Mammon, grinning ear-to-ear, gently patted Niffty on the head. “There you go, kiddo,” he said with a smirk. Then, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction, he added, “The other sins can’t say I’m not good with kids anymore.”
Fizzarolli shivered. “Fuck. I hope Crimson and Alastor don’t ever have kids…”

 

Nix let out a heavy sigh. Mammon wasn't one for kindness or gifts; he thrived on causing chaos and getting what he wanted. Nix couldn't quite understand why Mammon felt the need to act like Niffty's 'uncle,' but he knew that it was all about satisfying his own desires—and right now, that meant getting his hands on some cinnamon rolls. Nix just hoped that Mammon didn't start showing up at the café too often.

If he did, and ended up fighting with Crimson over Alastor's famous rolls, it would be like two cats battling for the same toy.

Nix managed to carefully carry Alastor into the café while Loona picked up a giggling Niffty and took away the knife she had been gifted. "Take me to Alastor's room," Nix instructed Loona.

Loona led him to the room and pulled back the covers for Alastor. Nix gently placed him in bed, and Loona settled Niffty beside her father. After covering them both up, Nix turned to Loona and said, "Stay here with them. I'll get you an ice pack."

Nix gave Loona some advice as he made his way towards the door. "You should work on your fighting skills, Loona. You may not be involved in the mafia, but you're still considered family since Blitz brought you home." Loona's ears drooped with guilt at Nix's words. He returned with an ice pack and handed it to her, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. He whispered, "You did your best, kid." Then he exited the room and locked up the café behind him.

As he stormed out, his eyes blazed in a deep, dark blue hue. His anger radiated off of him. He had some new recruits to deal with, and he could feel the weight of their betrayal heavy on his shoulders. They had been given strict orders not to look away, to stay by Alastor and his daughter's side at all times. And yet, when things went awry, they stood idly by, doing nothing to intervene. He seethed with frustration, knowing that he would have to take care of them later for their lack of loyalty and bravery.

Chapter 17

Nix stood outside the café, alert and vigilant. A chilling realization dawned on him: Mammon had claimed Alastor and Niffty as his own. In Mammon's possessive world, they were safe from anyone foolish enough to threaten what he deemed as his.

The thought sent a shiver down Nix’s spine. How did these two sinners manage to secure the protection of both a Mafia Don and the King of Greed? Nix hoped to never end up on their bad side.

Then it hit him. Mammon had even referred to himself as Niffty's "uncle." The entire Greed ring was officially screwed.

Crimson and Mammon were no strangers to doing favors for each other, but this? This was something else entirely.
Nix's stomach twisted into a knot; Mammon had always claimed Crimson as his “imp” when his boss was just a kid, but now he seemed to be extending his ownership to cover not only Crimson but also his wife and daughter. It was a distressing realization for Nix. FUCK.

Nix pulled out his phone and shot a text to Crimson:Sir, your wife and daughter are safe. But Mammon has claimed Alastor and Niffty. He’s even calling himself Niffty’s uncle. Loona is now Alastor’s hound. I’ll handle our men, unless you’d prefer to take care of them yourself.
The reply took longer than usual, but when it came, it was brief: Take care of them for me.

 

Crimson's heart skipped a beat, not once, but twice, as he read the text. The idea of Mammon going to such great lengths for his dear deer was unexpected, but it also filled him with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it gratitude? Relief? Despite all of Mammon's greed and chaos, he had come through in a way that Crimson never would have guessed. As Crimson glanced at his phone again, he remembered the day when Mammon first saw him and immediately burst into laughter at his scowl. "Sour," Mammon had dubbed him, claiming him as his grumpy ‘imp’ from that moment on. At the time, Crimson didn't think much of it, but over the years, they continuously did favors for each other without hesitation. Their friendship was unconventional but deep-rooted.

 

He’d offered Mammon one of Alastor’s cinnamon rolls a few months back. He hadn’t imagined it would lead to this.
Before Crimson could fully process it, he hit dial. Mammon picked up on the first ring, his voice practically oozing mischief.

“I was gonna leave them for you, Sour, but I didn’t like how they were talkin’ to my cinnamon roll maker—or stabber,” Mammon said, his tone casual. “Few of ‘em ran away. I’ll have Fizz send you the video later.”
Crimson let out a long, steady breath. “Thanks, Mammon. I’ll make sure to repay you for this.”

Mammon chuckled darkly. “It’s a gift for my cinnamon roll maker. Just remember, I’m watchin’ out for what’s mine. Don’t hurt what’s mine, Sour. I like that kid—she tried to stab me to keep her daddy safe. Gutsy little thing. But just so we’re clear, I own them. I’m only loanin’ ‘em out to you.”

The line went dead before Crimson could respond. He stared at the phone for a moment, his expression unreadable, before slipping it into his pocket. Turning to Moxxie, he said firmly, “Let’s get home, son. We’ve got work to do, and I need to get back to my deer.”

Moxxie followed, still reeling from everything. He’d never fully understood the strange friendship between his father and Mammon. The one time Moxxie had met the King of Greed, Mammon had given him a lollipop and bluntly asked if he was planning to be "just like his dad." Moxxie had burst into tears on the spot. Mammon, bewildered, had stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing.

“Your kid’s broken, Sour,” Mammon had said through his laughter. “You should get him fixed.”
Blitz had quickly scooped up the crying Moxxie and taken him outside to play, muttering something about Mammon’s manner being as subtle as a train wreck.

"I can't wait to become in uncle" Mammon mutter to himself.

Fizzarolli stared at Mammon, wide-eyed and completely floored. “Are you sure? Like, really sure?”
Mammon leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he clapped his hands together. “Fizz, picture it. My cinnamon roll maker and Sour makin’ tiny mini cinnamon rolls. Little bite-sized ones, with those big, adorable eyes. They’d call me ‘Uncle Mam.’”
Fizz’s jaw dropped. “What the—wait, WHAT?! Little cinnamon rolls?”

Mammon’s grin only grew wider, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Yup. Cute little cinnamon rolls runnin’ around, maybe some with Stabber’s gutsy streak. The kind that try to shank ya while smiling sweet as sugar.” He clapped his hands again, a laugh booming from his chest. “I’d show ‘em off to everyone! The cutest little heirs of Greed!”

Fizz felt his stomach twist. Mammon didn’t care about bonds or relationships—he cared about possessions, wealth, and power. But this? This was something... new. And terrifying.
Fizz swallowed hard, managing a shaky laugh. “Uh, boss... haha, that’s funny. Heirs of Greed. Real funny.”

Mammon’s clapping abruptly stopped, and his golden eyes locked onto Fizzarolli like a predator spotting prey. “I’m not joking, Fizz.” His voice dropped, dangerous and final. “Crimson better give me mini cinnamon rolls with Alastor.”
Fizz blinked, his brain scrambling to process the seriousness in Mammon’s tone. His hands twitched nervously as he muttered under his breath. “Greed is so, so fucked...”

Chapter 18

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, his vision hazy. His head throbbed faintly as he registered a small body clinging tightly to him. He felt warmth against his chest and instinctively wrapped his arms around Niffty, who was nestled beside him.
“Niffty...” he murmured, his voice thick with lingering grogginess. He blinked slowly, taking in her tiny form pressed against him, and he hugged her closer. From nearby, he heard Loona’s voice.

“Alastor?” A familiar voice pierced the fog clouding his mind. Loona.
His red eyes shifted toward her. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest, though her posture was far more anxious than stern. Relief tinged her voice as she spoke again.
“Thank goodness, Alastor. Are you okay?”

He exhaled shakily, the lingering tension in his body refusing to fully ebb away. “I’m sorry for scaring you, dear,” he said softly, his tone tender. “I didn’t mean—”

“Stop it.” Loona’s voice cut through his apology, firm yet not unkind. She planted her hands on her hips, her fiery gaze unwavering. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me... What happened? What did they say to make you freeze up like that?”

Alastor faltered, his eyes dropping to the figure still clinging tightly to him. Niffty’s hands gripped his coat, her face buried against his chest as though she could shield herself from the world. Gently, he kissed the top of her head, his fingers smoothing over her hair in a calming gesture.

“It was when they started saying... crude things to Niffty,” he whispered, his voice heavy with pain.

Loona stiffened, her tail lashing sharply behind her, a low growl rumbling in her throat as anger flared in her chest. “What? Alastor...” Her voice softened, and her posture shifted slightly as if trying to offer comfort. “Niffty told me a little about your past. How, when you were alive, you hunted horrible people... and how you wept for her. She said you were the only one to cry for her.” Alastor’s brow furrowed, pain flickering across his face. “That’s not entirely true,” he murmured, his tone low and strained.

“Her mother, Tiffy, screamed for her. Mourned her. She loved her so deeply that she...” His voice caught, cracking under the weight of the memory. “She took her own life because she couldn’t bear the loss of her only child.” Loona’s ears drooped as she listened, her tail going still. A sick feeling settled in her stomach, clawing at her insides.

“I hunted them down, Loona,” Alastor continued, his voice growing darker, though it trembled with emotion. “Every last one of them. I saved the ringleader for last and made him suffer. But when I finally came to Hell and found Niffty here...” His voice softened, cracking again. “I just lost the will to kill. I didn’t want vengeance or bloodshed. I just wanted to be her father. To take care of her.” He looked down at Niffty, his arms tightening protectively around her form. “I don’t even know if I could kill now. I think that part of me is gone.”

Loona opened her mouth to speak, but Alastor’s expression stopped her. Even as he avoided her gaze, the raw vulnerability in his face was enough to silence her.
“She doesn’t fully remember what happened,” he whispered. “And I hope she never fully does.

They... beat her brains in, Loona. They left her body so broken—her insides like jelly. They gouged out one of her eyes.” Loona’s hands flew to her mouth, her breath hitching as horror and nausea clawed at her. As Alastor’s voice began to crack. “They gang-raped her,” he choked out, his tears spilling silently as he clung to Niffty. “And then they dumped her at her mother’s doorstep. Like trash.”

Loona’s heart shattered. The bile rose in her throat, and her fists clenched at her sides, trembling with rage and sorrow. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel as nauseated as she did at that moment. “When I first found her in Hell,” Alastor continued, his voice trembling yet steady enough to push forward, “she was insane, killing bugs, stabbing them, looking for bad boys to hurt her... She didn’t care. his lips pressing into a thin line. “I sold my soul to that royal to save her. In return, that royal sold me to Lilith, the queen herself. She forced me to protect her daughter.

Loona I seek help for Niffty; they told me she was too broken; they thought she could never be ‘fixed.’
A faint, bitter smile curled at his lips. “It took me eighty-six years to get her finally acting like a child again.” Loona’s fists tightened, her claws digging into her palms as tears spilled freely from her eyes. Her chest ached, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a physical force. “I’m so sorry, Alastor,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Please.” Alastor’s tone was gentle yet firm, cutting through her apology. “I didn’t mean to upset you, dear.”
Loona swiped at her tears, forcing herself to stand straighter. Her eyes burned with a fierce determination. “Next time, Alastor, I’ll rip the throats out of anyone who dares to say anything to you or Niffty. I promise you that.”

Alastor’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through the sadness. He said nothing, simply nodding as he held Niffty close.
Loona sat back down; she paused in thought, then her voice firm yet tender. “You’re a good father, Alastor. Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise.”
Alastor’s grip on Niffty tightened as his eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “Thank you, Loona,” he murmured.

Note- I made myself cry writing this.

Chapter 19

Unbeknownst to them, Crimson and Moxxie stood silently in the doorway, having overheard everything. Moxxie’s gaze darted nervously between the scene before him and his father beside him.
What he saw on his dad’s face stopped him cold.
It was unlike anything Moxxie had ever seen from him. His usually stony, gruff demeanor had been replaced by a storm of emotions that seemed entirely foreign to Crimson. Rage simmered just beneath the surface of his expression, a feral glint in his eyes.

But there was more—an undercurrent of sorrow, raw and unguarded, and something so foreign it made Moxxie’s breath hitch: anguish.
Crimson’s voice, when it came, was rough, quiet, and deliberate. “Moxxie. What you just heard... you’ll forget about it.”
Moxxie blinked, startled. “Dad, I—” He hesitated. “I don’t think that’s something I can forget.”

“I’m ordering you to forget it,” Crimson said, his tone sharp. But the edge wavered ever so slightly, revealing the turmoil underneath.
Moxxie’s mouth opened as if to argue, but he stopped himself. A flicker of uncertainty passed through him as he studied his father’s face. For once, there was no hostility in Crimson’s words—just desperation and something frighteningly close to vulnerability.
“Yes, sir,” Moxxie murmured at last, his voice subdued. He turned and walked away, his expression conflicted, leaving Crimson alone in the doorway.

Crimson remained standing in the doorway, his gaze locked on Alastor and Niffty. The weight of Alastor’s confession replayed in his mind, the brutal imagery igniting a fire deep within him. His jaw tightened as he pulled out his phone, his fingers moving deliberately across the screen.

"Mammon, I need the file on Niffty. Names of who killed her when she was alive. All of them. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll do ten favors for you."

It was a bold request, but Crimson knew Mammon. Their strange, transactional relationship had spanned over 26 years. Back when Crimson was just a kid, Mammon had started with small demands—sweets, trinkets, petty indulgences. Over time, those requests had grown more elaborate, more twisted, just as Mammon's involvement in Crimson’s life had deepened.

 

Mammon’s reply came almost immediately, his childish nature clear even through the text.
“I get to be the sinfather of every one of your and Cinnamon Roll’s kids. Firstborn gets my name. And I get to show them off. They’ll be my heirs.”

Crimson blinked at the message, his face expressionless despite the sheer ridiculousness of it. After everything he’d seen and done, this should have shocked him, but it didn’t. If anything, it was typical Mammon being Mammon. Crimson sighed, shaking his head with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. Typing back, he replied:
“Fine. But the firstborn’s middle name can be Mammon. Only the middle name. And I don’t think you can make half-sinners and imps your heirs, Mammon.”

Mammon’s response was instant, brimming with glee.
“Deal. Now get to making me some mini cinnamon rolls. And ‘sour,’ don’t tell a Sin what they can and can’t do. If I say they’re heirs, they’re heirs.”

Crimson couldn’t help the faint chuckle as a smile formed on his lips as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. It wasn’t worth arguing with Mammon—not about something like this. If the King of Greed wanted to entertain his delusions of legacy, Crimson wasn’t going to waste his breath protesting.

His focus shifted back to Alastor and Niffty, a faint flicker of determination in his eyes. Whatever it took, he’d protect them. They were his now, and he wasn’t about to let anyone—or anything—stand in his way.

 

Mammon lounged back in his throne room, the light bouncing off the glittering piles of gold, jewels, and treasures surrounding him. His grin, wicked as always, stretched wide as he read Crimson’s text. The glow from his phone illuminated his eyes, making them gleam with greed and excitement. He chuckled softly, tapping his foot against the leg of his throne, his anticipation almost palpable.

Beside him, Fizzarolli twirled a set of juggling pins with effortless grace, but the tense look on his face suggested he knew something was coming—and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good. He glanced at Mammon, whose manic energy was starting to grow.
Fizz arched an eyebrow. “What’s got you grinning like that, boss?”

Mammon waved his phone triumphantly, his eyes gleaming with a devilish joy. “Sour-face Crimson’s gonna make me some mini cinnamon rolls with his cinnamon roll maker. All I have to do is get him the file on Stabber’s death. And get this—he’s giving me ten favors for it!” He paused, his grin growing even wider. “Ten, Fizz! That’s gotta be a new record.”

Fizz paused mid-juggle, the juggling pin slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a loud clatter. His face went pale as he processed Mammon’s words. “Wait… you mean to tell me Crimson’s going to—”

Mammon cut him off, his laughter filling the air. “Damn right! Me! Uncle Mam! Hellfather to the cutest little fawnimps in all of Hell!” His voice dropped into a mocking sing-song as he added, “And Sour-face turn into an immortal—just like his sinner boyfriend.”

Fizz froze, the sight of Mammon’s manic excitement making his stomach churn. His hands shot to his mouth as he whispered, “Crimson’s… seriously going to be doing this?”
Mammon leaned forward, practically vibrating with glee. “Hell yeah, he is! And guess who’s gonna teach those mini cinnamon rolls all the best tricks of the trade? Yours truly.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Little imps with cinnamon roll DNA? I bet some of them even have antlers like the deer. Can you imagine fizz?”

Fizz couldn’t hide his dread, but he managed to squeeze out a weak chuckle. “Y-yeah, boss. That’s… uh, great news. Really great. all of Greed sure is lucky.” I’m happy for you. His voice cracked, betraying his discomfort.

Mammon, oblivious to the sarcasm, beamed proudly. “Great? No, it’s fantastic! I’m gonna be the best hellfather Hell’s ever seen. And when that first fawnimp pops out? I’m throwing a party like no other! A baby shower, the likes of which Hell has never seen! We’ll invite everyone—well, everyone worth inviting. Not Lucifer, of course. Fuck him.”

He snapped his fingers suddenly, his eyes lighting up with inspiration. “And baby announcements! With themed tiny jester hats and maybe custom gold pacifiers. Oh! Fizz!”
Fizz blinked, his nervous thoughts interrupted. “Yeah, boss?”

Mammon grabbed a notebook from a nearby pile of treasure, furiously sketching designs. “Get these to my tailors ASAP,” he demanded, tossing the paper toward Fizz, who barely managed to catch it in time. The sketches were of tiny outfits styled like Mammon’s extravagant wardrobe—everything from gold-embroidered jackets to impractical accessories.
Fizz looked down at the paper, trying not to burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it. Baby tuxedos? Really, Mammon?

Mammon leaned back in his throne, crossing his legs with an air of satisfaction. “Only the best for my mini cinnamon rolls. And don’t forget the gold bibs. Nothing but top-notch for my heirs.”
Fizz sighed and tucked the sketches away, trying to keep his composure. “Got it, boss.”

Mammon continued on with his plans, muttering excitedly about personalized baby blankets, an extra security detail, and his dream of throwing the most elaborate first birthday party Hell had ever seen. “Those fawnimps,” he declared confidently, “are gonna be the best-protected demons in all of Greed. No one messes with what’s mine.”

Fizz watched him in silence, trying to process everything. Mammon’s manic energy was undeniable, but there was something else beneath the surface. For all the bravado and chaos, Mammon’s enthusiasm didn’t seem like a performance. It felt real. Too real.
Fizz frowned, voice soft. “Boss… do you actually… care about being a hellfather for those fawnimps?”

Mammon froze mid-sentence, his glowing eyes narrowing at Fizz. The room seemed to grow still as Mammon shifted his posture, his usual cocky grin faltering for a split second. Then, in a low voice, Mammon spoke, his tone unexpectedly serious.
“Care? Of course I care! They’re my  hell kids.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “And when I care about something, Fizzarolli… I make damn sure no one can take it away from me.”

Fizz swallowed hard, his unease growing as the weight of Mammon’s words sank in. Mammon wasn’t just playing some greedy game. He was invested.
Mammon clapped his hands suddenly, the moment of vulnerability gone in an instant as he returned to his usual energetic self. “Right! Let’s get this show on the road! I’ve got parties to plan, and—oh! Should I send a gift basket to Sour and Cinnamon Roll? Fizz, remind me to send a gift basket.”

Fizz gave a weak laugh, still processing Mammon’s overwhelming enthusiasm. “Boss, you need to wait for Crimson to—uh—actually, you know, knock Alastor up first.” He hoped that would slow his boss down, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t.
Mammon froze, his eyes widening in sudden realization. “Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that part for a second.” He paused, his grin returning with a mischievous gleam. “You know, Fizz, it cracks me up how you imps can impregnate sinners. I’m the only Sin who figured it out. And you all think I don’t know how you do it.”

Fizz’s eyes widened, his mind racing to shut down whatever Mammon was about to say. But Mammon was already on a roll, the excitement evident in his voice. “Pleasing them ‘til you just have to ask them to have your kids… Truly amazing. And the sinners end up so content they only want to please their lover. Meanwhile, the imp turns immortal, always with their sinner lover forever. It's kind of beautiful, really but creepy with the stepford wife after effect on the sinners.” Mammon sighed, clearly lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to his plans.

“Well, no matter! Let’s talk about matching family outfits, Fizz!” He clapped his hands excitedly. “A whole damn matching family collection! Little fawnimps along with Niffty dressed just like me, with Alastor looking all cute. And don’t forget the mini version of Sour’s dour suit for laughs. We’ll have family pictures! I want them walking around Hell showing everyone who’s got the cutest, most fashionable Hellkids.”

Fizz blinked, trying to process everything at once. “Boss, don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? Crimson hasn’t even... uh... started the process yet.”
Mammon’s grin faltered for just a second before bouncing back with renewed vigor. “Details, details! By tomorrow, Crimson will have impregnated Alastor. Fizz, I told you, I know everything.” He shot Fizz a pointed glare, as if daring him to question it.

Fizz rubbed his temple, barely able to keep up with the whirlwind of Mammon’s plans. He couldn’t believe that the one Sin who wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed had figured out this secret better than anyone else.
Mammon leaned forward, his grin sharpening into something dangerous, his voice dropping low. “It will go my way, Fizz. You know why? Because it’s me. The King of Greed. Everything I touch turns into pure, golden opportunity. If there’s a snag? I’ll smooth it out. No one gets in my way.” His eyes narrowed. “Fizz, don’t forget my rule about imps dating sinners.”
Fizz sighed, the exhaustion seeping in. “Don’t date ugly ones, because you don’t want to see ugly half imps running around your ring…”

Mammon’s laughter erupted in the throne room, rich and full of delight. Fizz, however, was too tired to join in. As he turned to leave, Mammon’s voice called out after him, unrelenting in his demands.
“Fizz! Write this down: I need matching shoes for the mini cinnamon rolls! They can’t be running around barefoot like peasants!”
Fizz groaned inwardly, glancing down at the absurd sketches still clutched in his hands. “Matching shoes, matching clothes, gold pacifiers, family pictures… Hell, what’s next? A full-blown parade? A family statue?”

Mammon’s booming voice came from behind him, enthusiastic as ever. “Fizz! That’s genius! Write that down too!”
Fizz’s pace quickened, but not fast enough to escape the whirlwind of Mammon’s constant demands. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll write it down. This is my life now,” he muttered under his breath.
As Mammon’s laughter echoed from behind, Fizz couldn’t help but shake his head in resignation. Whatever this was, it was clear that Mammon was all in. His enthusiasm was genuine, and that fact alone scared Fizz more than anything else.

The last thing Fizz wanted was Mammon getting involved in his own love life someday—he wasn’t sure if he’d survive the over-the-top, chaotic plans his boss would inevitably create for him.
But for now, Fizz had a job to do. And it involved a lot of ridiculous sketches, absurd baby clothes, and fulfilling whatever other wild ideas Mammon could come up with.
Before Fizz could even step outside, he received a text from Mammon. It demanded that he find out if Niffty had a Hellfather; if not, Mammon was claiming it for himself. Fizz couldn't contain his frustration and let out a loud scream of "FUCK!"

Crimson knocked softly on the wall, his voice carrying an unfamiliar gentleness. “I’m home, deer,” he said, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry for what happened. But I heard Mammon —”
Before he could finish, Alastor gently moved Niffty aside and surged forward, throwing himself into Crimson’s arms.
The sudden embrace caught Crimson off guard, but he recovered quickly. Wrapping his arms around Alastor, he held him tightly, feeling the weight of Alastor’s sorrow pressing against him. Alastor buried his face in the crook of his neck, seeking solace in the warmth of his touch.

“I’m here,” Crimson murmured, his voice low and soothing. He could feel the tension in Alastor’s body, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held him even closer, offering the only comfort he knew how. His large, steady hands caressed Alastor’s back, grounding him, keeping him present.
Loona, who had pick up the sleeping Niffty, paused at the tender sight before her. Her eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She hadn’t seen Crimson like this before. She always knew him as the gruff, no-nonsense figure, a being who never let anyone close enough to see the cracks in his hardened demeanor.

But now, as she observed him with Alastor, she saw something different—a side of Crimson she never thought would emerge. The care he had for Alastor, the gentle way he held him, was something she hadn't expected.
Loona exhaled softly and turned to leave, not wanting to intrude. “Come on, Niffty,” she whispered to the still-sleeping sinner child in her arms. “Let’s head to Crimson place for now.”
Crimson gave her a faint, silent nod of thanks, his attention never straying from Alastor. Loona stepped quietly out of the room, glancing back over her shoulder once, a small shake of her head at the unexpected softness she had witnessed. To her, it was a reminder that there was far more to Crimson than met the eye.

When the room was empty, and only the two of them remained, Crimson rested his chin lightly against Alastor’s head. The weight of Alastor’s body pressed against him, but Crimson didn’t mind. He welcomed it. He would carry the weight of the world if it meant keeping Alastor safe—if it meant keeping his family safe.
“I’ve got you,” Crimson murmured, his voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. His heart was heavy with the knowledge he had learn today.
His grip tightened around Alastor, a silent promise in the action. A promise that no one would take him away, no one would touch what was his. If anyone dared to harm Alastor, to pull him from Crimson’s side, they would feel the full extent of his wrath. He would make sure of it.

Chapter 20

Crimson and Alastor's passion that night was filled with reverence and promise. Every kiss, every touch, and caress felt like an unspoken vow, sealing their love in the heat of the moment. The room was bathed in a warm glow, casting shadows on the walls as their bodies entwined. Alastor couldn't help but tremble and gasp at the intensity of Crimson's affections; his heart overflowing with emotion, he couldn't help but ask, his voice trembling and breathless, "Darling, did you miss me that much?" Though they had only been apart for a few days, the longing between them felt like an eternity. When their lips met, time seemed to stand still. Their tongues danced together in a fiery embrace, their hands roaming freely over each other's bodies. Crimson's touch sent shivers down Alastor's spine, igniting a fire within him that burned with desire.

Silently, Crimson trailed kisses down Alastor's body and playfully used his tongue to trace intricate patterns that drove Alastor wild. In response to Alastor's moans, Crimson engulfed his lover's cock with expert skill, bringing waves of pleasure that Alastor couldn't resist. Despite Alastor's efforts to take charge, Crimson held him in place, overwhelming him with indescribable sensations. Crimson released Alastor's arousal from his mouth and lifted his head to meet his lover's gaze.

With deliberate movements, his hands caressed Alastor's chest before firmly holding him down once more. Leaning in, Crimson captured Alastor's lips in a fiery and intense kiss that left them both gasping for breath when they finally pulled apart. While still keeping Alastor in his grasp, Crimson's gaze softened, but his voice remained full of intensity. "I will always miss you," he whispered, his words dripping with love and sincerity. "When you're not by my side, you consume my thoughts." He took a deep breath before continuing in a deeper tone. "So when Loona texted Moxxie saying you and Niffty were being harassed and that you had frozen... I was terrified. The thought of someone hurting you or our daughter...

"His words trailed off as a possessive look passed over his face when he mentioned Niffty as if she were his very fawn. Alastor falls in love with him even more.Alastor pressed his forehead against Crimson's, taking a moment to steady his breathing as the weight of Crimson's words washed over him. "I'm sorry for scaring you and pulling you away," he started to apologize before being silenced by another kiss from Crimson.

This one was softer but no less firm, leaving Alastor with glazed eyes and a racing heart when they finally parted. A faint smile crept onto Crimson's lips as he gently brushed a stray hair from Alastor's face."Now listen to me, my precious deer," Crimson murmured in a tender voice, his warm breath tickling Alastor's ear. "I will always choose you and our fawns, no matter what." His fingertips caressed Alastor's chest with a gentle touch, tracing delicate patterns and sending shivers of pleasure through his body. Crimson pulled Alastor closer into an embrace. "You don't need to worry about anything else; just let me take care of you." And from now on, if anyone disrespects you or Niffty, just let me know," he promised with a hint of possessiveness in his voice. "And if I can't handle it right away, one of my men will take care of it for you."

Do you hear me?" A shaky breath escaped Alastor's lips as he relaxed completely into Crimson's embrace. All worries and doubts faded away as he surrendered to the love and protection that Crimson offered. Wrapping his arms around Crimson in return, Alastor whispered a heartfelt thank you for caring for and loving both Niffty and him. Little did he know, a possessive gleam sparkled in Crimson's eyes. Alastor's eyes fluttered shut, his breaths grew more erratic, and his body quivered with every soft gasp that escaped his slightly parted lips.

Crimson smirked in triumph. He trailed kisses down Alastor's body before lavishing attention on his lover's manhood with his tongue, swirling around the pulsing shaft and causing the deer to moan in absolute bliss. Crimson carefully repositioned Alastor's hips, lifting them higher and spreading his legs over his shoulders to achieve better access. Alastor couldn't help but squirm under the intense pleasure that flooded through him. With expert skill, Crimson used his fingers to stretch Alastor while simultaneously pleasuring him with his mouth. Overwhelmed by the sensations, Alastor's hips began to move uncontrollably; in response, Crimson's tail wrapped tightly around his lover's hips, keeping him still. As Crimson's tongue skillfully tightened along Alastor's length, Alastor couldn't help but let out small moans of delight.

When Crimson started humming and hitting Alastor's sweet spot with his fingers, the deer clutched onto his horns and called out Crimson's name as he reached climax with a loud purr. Even after Alastor had finished, Crimson continued to finger him, drawing out even more pleasure from the exhausted deer. Finally, with a satisfied grin on his face, Crimson lifted his head and ran his tongue along Alastor's now soft cock, ensuring that he had cleaned up all of his lover's cum before licking his lips and looking at Alastor with adoration.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned over to Alastor and asked, "Can I try something new with you?" Lost in a haze of pleasure, Alastor could only nod his consent. With careful movements, Crimson slipped a cock ring onto Alastor's now flaccid member. The sudden tightness caused a burst of sensations behind Alastor's closed eyelids, making him whimper. Before he could protest, Crimson started stroking and caressing him gently to ease any discomfort.

"Shh, my love," Crimson whispered tenderly, trying to reassure him. "You're going to enjoy it, I promise." And with that, he pressed a soft kiss on Alastor's now sensitive penis. "Just trust me, deer," Crimson murmured while looking into Alastor's eyes with unwavering devotion. "I would never do anything to hurt you." Can you trust me? With tears welling up in his eyes, Alastor Crimson had never betrayed his trust before, so he nodded in response. My darling, I trust you. A smile spread across Crimson's face as he kissed Alastor's forehead lovingly.

Alastor's face was streaked with tears as he was overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through his body. The sound of his moans bounced off the walls as Crimson's skilled tongue ravished him, sending waves of ecstasy from head to toe. And that wasn't even the end of it—Crimson's tail had wrapped around his throbbing member, teasing and stroking it in perfect rhythm with their mouth. One of Crimson's hands gently caressed the soft fur on Alastor's chest while they played with his fluffy tail, enhancing the already mind-blowing experience even more. Every touch, every movement, every sensation felt like a symphony playing inside Alastor's body.

He clutched at Crimson's horns, feeling drool escape from his open mouth as he let out heavy pants of pleasure. His hips bucked wildly, yearning for more and more pleasure from Crimson's skilled tongue. He held onto Crimson tightly, seeking support and stimulation as the movements of his tongue drove him to the brink of ecstasy. Alastor gasped for air, unable to control his own body as his hips instinctively moved forward. With a possessive grip on Alastor's hip, Crimson skillfully worked his magic until Alastor was desperate for release. Every stroke of his tongue hit all the right spots, sending intense waves of pleasure through Alastor's body.

As he reached his climax, slick mixed with saliva rolled down from his chin. A sly grin stretched across Crimson's face as he knew he had complete control over Alastor. Purring, he asked his love a question that filled him with a sense of power. Gasping for air and struggling to form words, Alastor begged the other man.

"I want you... Please take me and make me yours... completely." Crimson's grin spread across his face, knowing that Alastor was completely under his spell. "As you wish," he whispered before claiming Alastor's lips in a fiery kiss. Alastor moaned, letting Crimson slip his tongue inside and deepen their connection. Lost in each other's taste and touch, they melted into an intense embrace, consumed by their passion for one another. Crimson's gaze holds a primal hunger as he eagerly anticipates impregnating his deer. The power to reproduce with sinners lies solely with the imps, and this secret is closely guarded among their kind. Mammon was the only sin who had discovered it.

He warned them against sleeping with members of royalty and stressed the importance of choosing attractive sinners as mates to avoid any "ugly" half-imp offspring roaming in greed. Crimson pulled away from Alastor's lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watched Alastor move his hips in perfect rhythm. In between kisses and teasing touches, Crimson couldn't help but marvel at how easy it was to impregnate sinners, bringing them to the peak of pleasure only to deny them release and ask them to bear their child. All it took was a simple transformation—testicles disappearing, a womb and vagina appearing—and the change would be permanent, unknown to the sinner.

And yet they would be content in pleasing their lover, while the imp gained immortality and could remain with their partner forever. It was a deal that greatly benefited the imps while altering the minds and bodies of the unsuspecting sinners. Mammon had once referred to it as the Stepford wife effect.Crimson spread Alastor's legs apart, commanding his attention with a sharp bite on the thigh before soothingly kissing the spot. Every time Alastor tried to move his hips, Crimson would stop him and give a gentle smack, reminding him to be patient.

"Be good, my dear," he purred seductively. "Soon I will grant you release." Crimson pulled Alastor to the edge of the bed, exposing his rear end and causing Alastor's eyes to widen in anticipation. Then with a swift movement, he turned Alastor onto his side and began thrusting into him. One of Alastor's legs was placed effortlessly on Crimson's shoulder while the other dangled freely. Despite Alastor's desperate desire for climax, whatever Crimson had placed on his cock was preventing it from happening.

Despite Alastor's repeated pleas for release, Crimson continued to hold back and deny him. "Shh, my dear," he cooed as he watched Alastor riding him with a look of pleasure on his face. Crimson's strong arms wrapped around Alastor's sides, while Alastor's legs tightly clung to him. His hands gripped onto Crimson's shoulders as he screamed out in ecstasy. Crimson had taken Alastor on every surface imaginable: the chair, the wall, even bending him over multiple times. Alastor was pushed to the limits of his endurance by Crimson's relentless pursuit of pleasure.

His body was covered with sweat, and his mind was overwhelmed by the constant stimulation, eventually causing him to pass out from exhaustion and overwhelming pleasure. But he was soon awakened again by Crimson's unyielding pursuit to push him even further. Despite his efforts, Alastor was unable to reach orgasm even once, constantly teetering on the edge but never allowed to fully experience release.

Meanwhile, Crimson had achieved climax multiple times, leaving Alastor drenched in his lover's cum.Alastor lay unconscious from passing out again in Crimson's lap, his body limp and relaxed in a deep slumber. Crimson watched him with a predatory smile, knowing this was the perfect opportunity to ask Alastor while he was in a dreamlike state, where he would agree to anything. "My deer," he purred softly, his hand running through Alastor's hair and tugging on one of his curls. His tail slithered possessively around Alastor's cock.

"Do you want to carry my fawns? To be their mother?" Crimson leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Alastor's chest. In his sleep-like state, Alastor cried out Crimson's name. His cries echoed through the room as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Yes, yes, Crimson," he whimpered, "I want to be a mother; please, just let—" His words were cut off by heavy pants as his hips began to move instinctively. Sensing his lover's desire, Crimson pulled his cock out before thrusting back in with force, causing Alastor to moan even louder.

"I will do anything," he cried, "just let me!" Crimson silenced him with another deep kiss before pulling away, leaving strands of drool between their lips. Crimson Adjusting Alastor's body beneath him, he positioned himself on his knees and lifted Alastor's ass into the air. With a mischievous smirk, he plunged himself inside once more. As they moved together in a passionate rhythm, Crimson showered Alastor with praises and affirmations in his ear as he thrust relentlessly inside him. He told him how good he was doing, how he would make a wonderful mother, and how much pleasure his deer was bringing to him by enduring such intense pleasure without climaxing. Slowly but surely, Alastor began to regain consciousness. Confused and disoriented at first, he soon realized his situation.

Why wasn't Crimson letting him reach orgasm? His eyes widened in fear and pain as he felt an unfamiliar sensation deep within him. Crimson's arms wrapped tightly around Alastor, his strong grip sending shivers down Alastor's spine as they moved in perfect rhythm. Alastor's body felt incredible. As Crimson picked up his speed, a smirk spread across his lips as he felt Alastor's body shift beneath him. A mixture of pain and pleasure filled the air as Alastor let out bleats and cries, trying to pull away from Crimson with fear and worry etched on his face. Crimson's deep voice whispered soothing words that provided a sense of comfort.

"Shh, it's okay, my deer. I've got you." As Alastor completed his transformation, Crimson's grin widened at the sight of his Deer' newly formed vagina. With one swift movement, he withdrew from Alastor's anus and entered Alastor's wet and welcoming core. Alastor let out a scream while Crimson moaned, calling out his lover's name instead of their his usual nickname for him. They were connecting on a deeper level as their lovemaking became more intimate than ever before. Alastor forgot about the pain he had felt just moments ago as he listened to Crimson using his given name.

Crimson kept moaning out Alastor's name as their bodies moved together in perfect synchronization. Alastor gives a goofy smile before his mind becomes foggy while pleasure crushes over him; he is lost in the sensation of Crimson moving inside of him with such intensity and urgency. Every thrust sent sparks of ecstasy throughout his entire being, never giving him a chance to think or even process what was happening.

He was left moaning, begging for more; Crimson fully pulled out, flipping Alastor onto his back and attempting to lift his legs onto his shoulders. Without hesitation, Alastor wrapped his legs around Crimson's waist and placed his hands on the headboard for support behind him. Without hesitation, and not giving Crimson a chance, Alastor started bleating while moving his hips, eagerly begging for Crimson to enter him once again. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he allowed his deer to take control for a while.

Running his hands along Alastor's body, he couldn't help but admire every scar on his lover's body, then trailed a finger down the deer's stomach and gently patted it. Alastor kept bleating, his hips moving while trying to pull Crimson to his heated core.

"Deer," Crimson chuckled, his voice filled with adoration and desire, "tonight there will be a fawn growing inside of you." He said with a laugh, his words sending shivers of excitement down Alastor's spine.With a deep grunt and a powerful thrust, he filled Alastor once again, their bodies fitting together perfectly. As they moved together in harmony, Alastor let out choked moans and cries as Crimson hit all the right spots within him. Desperate for more pleasure, Alastor kept moving his hips, trying to get Crimson to go deeper. This was the beauty of their bond—they knew each other's bodies so well. Thought Crimson.Crimson's gaze bore into Alastor, "Now Alastor," Crimson's tone was firm, indicating that he expected Alastor to listen and obey.

"There are going to be rules in place for your safety from now on." Crimson paused, waiting for a quick agreement from his deer. When it didn't come, he slammed into Alastor with force, causing his entire body to jolt. Crimson tone softened as he spoke again, "Answer me, my love. I only want to keep you safe. You want me to keep you and Niffty safe, right?" Crimson grunted as he kept thrusting inside of Alastor.

As he peppered kisses across Alastor's stomach and chest. "You don't want a repeat of today, do you? Just accept my rules, Alastor. I love you and Niffty. Don't you love me?"Alastor could only manage to pant out a weak "yes" between gasps for air as his body moved in sync with Crimson's. He clung to him tightly, screaming "yes" over and over again as his lover lifted him to change positions. Alastor eagerly bounced on Crimson's cock, craving deeper penetration.

Crimson's smile grew wider as he gazed up at Alastor, relishing his power and control over his deer. He continued their passionate lovemaking, delighting in hearing Alastor's "Yes!" cries and watching his declarations of love for him. A sense of pride knowing that his lover was completely under his spell. Impregnating sinners wasn't just a way or means for imps to bind them to their lover's side forever; it was also a way for them to enforce their own rules upon them without the sinners even realizing it.

The imps would never harm their sinner lovers; they were their other halves, bound together by an unbreakable force.As Crimson listed off the rules to Alastor, each one punctuated by a sharp thrust of his hips. Pleasure and pain mingled together as Alastor moaned and panted, his body responding to Crimson's touch. "Rule one," Crimson growled, "you will remain faithful to me." His words were like a command, driving deep into Alastor's core. "Rule two: you will love me, our children, and our family above all else."

The intensity in his tone left no room for doubt. "Rule three: If anyone from your past resurfaces—someone you killed when you were alive—you must inform me immediately and then forget that you ever told me. "Rule four: Trust only me and our children. If I tell you not to trust someone, it is for good reason. Crimson made sure to thrust so hard and deep that Alastor's back arched, and his juices started to flow. You will fucking not trust them, Alastor; the family and I are the only ones you are allowed to trust."He paused to catch his breath before continuing.

"And rule five—I want you to stop working six months into your pregnancy to focus on taking care of yourself and our fawn. You can start working again once the fawn is old enough to be left with someone."As he spoke, Crimson's thrusts became more intense, causing Alastor's core to overflow with sweet nectar. Alastor was leaning forward, his face in Crimson’s chest. Crimson's eyes and tone softened as he added more rules. "Rule six: I want you to inform me once you realize you are pregnant and make it special; be shy and cute for me."

He placed a soft kiss on Alastor's lips before continuing. "And rule seven: when the time comes, I want you and Niffty to move into my home while Loona takes care of the cafe. While she is still living here. Alastor grunted. When Crimson's hips rolled in a hypnotic rhythm as he continued to ravish him, his tongue running along the deer's sensitive nipples. "And remember, my dear, you can only trust me and the family. I am the only one you can trust next to our fawns."

"Rule eight," he said, pausing to suck on Alastor's nipple before continuing. "Only hire people that I approve for your cafe. You must always remember who you can truly trust, my deer." I’m the only one you can trust. I love you and want to keep you and our family safe.Now this is not a rule, my deer, Crimson whispered before lowering Alastor down to place a soft kiss on his lips before saying, "Now Alastor, you want to let Mammon be every one of our fawn’s hellfathers; you will also want to be the one to give our first fawn the middle name Mammon.

It was you who wanted this, no one else." Crimson's tongue trailed along his chest, teasing and tantalizing; he couldn't resist as Crimson bit down on his nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him.Alastor was gasping for air when Crimson let his nipple go. He Pulled out of Alastor's soaking core, Alastor started to whine, missing his lover's cock. Crimson moved his body up slowly, their eyes locked in a heated gaze, his hard cock rubbing across Alastor's stomach.

Without breaking eye contact, he ran his tongue along Alastor's lips before shoving it in his mouth. Alastor surrendered completely to the sensations, wrapping his hands around Crimson's horns and pulling him closer. He gasped as Crimson reentered him, then started moaning, Crimson grinning as some drool dripped from his lip. "My lovely deer," he purred, "I also want you to have some time to show up in my office wearing nothing but a dress and no underwear and heels." His words sent a thrill through Alastor's body.

"I want you sitting on my lap while I fuck you or just use you as my cute cock warmer."Alastor knew that he was exactly where he belonged—in Crimson's arms." There are times, my dear," Crimson whispered breathlessly, "when I think of you, and I get so fucking horny." He leaned in for a kiss before pulling away and admiring his beautiful deer." Can you do all that for me?" he asked with a playful smirk. Alastor could only moan "yes."

Crimson's voice turned possessive, a low growl escaping his lips as he spoke, each word dripping with desire and love, "I did all of this because I love you, Alastor. Do you understand? My love for you knows no bounds, and you should be thankful for it, my deer." Alastor's heart raced with every touch, completely lost in Crimson's embrace. The warmth of their bodies pressed together, with each thrust, Alastor's pleasure intensified until he could barely speak through his gasps and moans; he managed to utter a breathless "yes" and “thank you, thank you.” Alastor was completely under Crimson's control now.

His mind was now consumed by Crimson's love, unable to resist or think of anything else; It was like being consumed by a fire, but instead of burning him, it filled him with an overwhelming sense of ecstasy. As they continued to move together, Crimson whispered one final seductive command into Alastor's ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on Alastor's skin. "In one month's time, I will ask you to marry me.

I want you to show up in my office wearing a sexy dress, with a thong included, of course. Your luscious curly hair should be on full display and your lips painted red. And don't forget heels. I want to show you off; I’m going to take you out for dinner before putting a ring on your finger to let everyone know who you truly belong to." Alastor only replied with a simple "yes," completely entranced by Crimson's words and desires. You understand me, Alastor.

I want you to do this for me, my love, my deer. Alastor with tears running down his eyes: "Yes, darling, anything for you. Thank you for loving me."Alastor felt weightless, floating on a cloud of pure bliss as he surrendered himself to the pleasure that Crimson was guiding him through. His body tingled with every touch and movement, his mind lost in a haze of ecstasy. He felt safe, loved, and cherished, his heart overflowing with gratitude for Crimson's love and devotion.

As Crimson's tail slowly wrapped around Alastor's waist, lifting him up and positioning him in perfect alignment for their lovemaking. The sensation of being held by Crimson's strong tail only added to the intense pleasure that coursed through his body. As they moved together, Crimson leaned back, his movements perfectly synchronized with Alastor's.

Crimson's lips curved into a wicked grin as he gazed at Alastor; Crimson watched how Alastor's drool dripped down from the corners of his mouth as Alastor's tongue poked out from between his lips, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake, as he softly bleated in pleasure. His furry chest and stomach were marked with bite marks and scratches, evidence of their passionate encounter. Crimson had been relentless, leaving Alastor's nipples red and sensitive from being played with by Crimson's eager hands.

Sweat and cum stained Alastor's body and tangled curls, as well as the sheets beneath them, which were stained with a mixture of sweat, cum, and Alastor's own juices. Crimson praised Alastor for his submission, whispering sweet words of appreciation: "My sweet deer, you have been so good to me. You have taken me so many times. Look at you, drenched in my cum."

A weak bleat escaped Alastor's lips as he struggled to respond, barely managing a feeble "yes" when asked if he was ready to orgasm. With one skilled hand, Crimson delicately removed the cock ring from Alastor, releasing a wave of tension that had been building inside of him. A guttural moan escaped as he finally reached his climax, his body quivering with ecstasy. Breathing heavily as sweat glistened on his skin, Alastor showered Crimson with grateful words for allowing him to cum.

But even in the midst of his afterglow, another need began to stir within him—an unfamiliar and insistent urge. Alastor started begging Crimson for help, his voice desperate and pleading. In response, Crimson's tail tightened its grip on him, holding Alastor firmly in place while telling him to embrace the sensation. With full control over Alastor's body, the tip of Crimson's tail slithered around to tease and play with Alastor's sensitive nipple.

Alastor opened his eyes and let out a primal cry as he felt himself clamping down tightly on Crimson's throbbing member. As he came back to reality, he looked at Crimson with confusion mixed with desire. Crimson locked his eyes with Alastor's; it was filled with lust and possession. Without hesitation, Crimson continued to move Alastor on his cock, teasing him with slow and deliberate motions. Alastor grasped onto Crimson's horns for support and began rolling his hips in perfect harmony.

With each thrust and clench of Alastor's tight walls, Crimson's desire burned hotter, driving him closer to the edge of ecstasy. His tail wrapped around Alastor's waist, pulling him closer and intensifying their passion. Alastor's grip on Crimson's horns tightened as he matched his movements, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Their moans and grunts mixed together in a symphony of pleasure.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through his body, Crimson fought back the urge to release. He reached up and gently removed Alastor's hands from his horns, interlacing their fingers instead. The two lovers were lost in their passion, moving in perfect synchronization. Crimson gazed up at Alastor with desire and adoration, their breaths heavy and hot. "My love, I want you to kiss me when we both climax," Alastor moaned out Crimson's name before lowering himself down, allowing Crimson to penetrate even deeper.

As they shared a passionate kiss, their hands intertwined, the pleasure was all-consuming. At the peak of their ecstasy, Crimson marked Alastor as his own with his release. But as tears fell from Alastor's eyes, he felt safe and overwhelmed by emotions he had never experienced before. He wept as his muscles continued to clench around Crimson's cock, the unfamiliar sensation frightening him. In that moment, Crimson released Alastor's lips to reassure him."Alastor, you're safe with me. Just relax and trust me."

Crimson saw how distressed his partner was, so he carefully removed him from his cock. His tail held Alastor up as Crimson's hands rested on his hips. With a gentle voice, Crimson reassured Alastor that he was safe. "I love you, Alastor. I'm sorry this new feeling is frightening you. Let me make you feel good." Alastor's heart raced as Crimson's words began to calm him, and he let out a sigh of relief as Crimson started kissing his stomach and stroking him with his hand.

Crimson's cum mixed with slick slowly trickled down his thighs. Crimson's tail wrapped around Alastor, keeping him secure as Crimson's fingers worked their magic on Alastor's most sensitive areas. He whispered praises to Alastor, admiring the beauty of his body and how it perfectly matched his adorable personality.

"You're mine, my sweet Alastor," Crimson declared, continuing to caress and stimulate him. Slowly but surely, Alastor began to purr in pleasure as the sensations overwhelmed him. Despite not fully understanding what was happening to his body, he knew it felt incredible what Crimson was doing to him. Crimson continued to stroke and caress Alastor, whispering words of encouragement and support as he kissed his stomach. "You're doing so well, my deer.

I got you; you just need to trust me." With one arm under Alastor's butt, Crimson pulled him closer and smiled reassuringly. "You are safe and protected with me; I would never harm you, Alastor." And it was true, he never would. As he stroked Alastor, Crimson gently slipped his fingers inside. Each movement made Alastor gasp and moan in pleasure. As Crimson continued to praise him, he took Alastor's cock into his mouth and began to suck slowly. His tongue wrapped around it in a steady rhythm as Alastor's hips jerked uncontrollably. In complete ecstasy, he cried out Crimson's name as he reached his climax and drifted off to sleep.

With a satisfied smile on his lips, Crimson ran his tongue along Alastor's soft member before licking his lips, cherishing the taste of Alastor's release on his tongue. Crimson remained awake, his arms wrapped around Alastor in a loving and protective embrace. He gazed at the serene form of his deer, marveling at the beauty of their shared moment together. Alastor's face was flushed as tiny bleats mixed with purrs left his lips, as some tears stained his deer cheeks.

There was an unshakable sense of contentment that filled Crimson's heart as he looked at the one person who held his heart and soul completely. With great care and tenderness, Crimson lowered Alastor onto the bed and gently unwrapped his tail from around him. Pulling Alastor closer, he held him protectively against his chest, feeling their hearts beat in sync.

"I love you, my deer," he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to Alastor's forehead. As his gaze shifted to Alastor's stomach, where their fawn would soon grow, Crimson's hand began to caress it. A wave of emotions washed over him as he thought about their future together. "I would do anything for you," he said softly, his voice filled with devotion. As he kissed away Alastor's tears, Crimson reassured him that he would always keep them safe and protected.
His son's words rang in his mind—no one else would ever have his beloved deer—and he knew deep in his heart that it was true. They belonged together, now more than ever: his deer, his fawn, his daughter, his son—they belong to him. They are his family. Crimson closed his eyes and peacefully went to sleep next to his love.

Moxxie shivered; why did it feel like his dad had twisted something he said?

part 1 of Crimson Deer finish.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 24 of alastorshippermonth
• Part 1 of Crimson Deer and side stories