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fatuismooches · 9 months

Note

From the Fontaine trailer, some people headcanon Arlecchino to be a perfectionist so imagine her lover feeling insecure and becoming distant because they think they're not good enough for her, which Arlecchino quickly denies.

It was hard not to be insecure.

You knew that everyone felt insecure every now and then, but you felt the unconfidence in yourself growing with every passing day. After all, your lover was Arlecchino. The Knave. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger. One of the most strongest people that served the Tsaritsa. Not to mention stunningly beautiful.

And now “the perfectionist.”

You had always known that your wife liked things to be done her way, or no way. Arlecchino looked down on many things and people that she considered to be beneath her. She would pick apart anyone who had the audacity to upset her. But she had never once directed anything of the sort to you. You were good enough for her, you thought. She always made you feel so loved, so worthy of her, of everything, despite her… less than sane tendencies.

Until a few days ago.

The regular Fatui soldiers loved to gossip amongst themselves. You couldn’t really blame them, even though the Harbingers were feared, many of them were also idolized. And there wasn’t much else to do on duty. (Your wife always made sure to station a few guards outside your room. She was very serious about your safety.)

You actually learned a good bit of information from listening in on their conversations, but the parts you cared about the most were related to Arlecchino. From the time you overheard that she seemed more irritable than usual at the orphanage, so you made sure to pamper her to the fullest extent that night. Or when she was somehow in a good mood, so you did your best to make it even better by being extra romantic when she arrived home. But now you had stumbled upon a conversation you would have been better off not hearing.

It was the wee hours of the night, when you had been waiting up for hours to see if Arlecchino would make it home that night. She did not, which was disappointing, but it was nothing new. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Regardless, you were sleepy now, but before you crashed you wanted to see if the Fatui were talking about anything juicy. By now, they would think you were asleep. You crept to your door and leaned close to it to see if you could catch any hushed whispers.

“You know, I heard Lord Pantalone and The Doctor got into another quarrel…” Bingo! Looks like they were chit-chatting tonight. Pantalone… the guy Arlecchino rebuked quite a few times. You don’t think she liked him very much, from the way she always hid you behind her, away from his unsettlingly sweet smile. Though that wasn’t the point. The guards continued to prattle on quietly, but it was becoming boring for you. Looks like one of the Harbingers made their subordinate cry again. You heard that one all too often, so it was time to finally go to sleep.

“Say, Lord Arlecchino…” Well, staying up for a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, right? You were eager to hear what they’d say.

“Lord Arlecchino is a real perfectionist, isn’t she?”

You don’t know why those words hit you so hard all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s quite obsessed with perfection. If you don’t comply with her every standard of perfection, she’ll think of you as nothing. I don’t think anyone could be good enough for her.”

Perfection. Perfection. Perfection.

The word had now taken up residence in your head and you could no longer hear the muffled voices outside, your own thoughts being too loud. You were never well acquainted with the word “perfection.” You never considered yourself to be perfect in anything: looks, personality, smarts, talents, skills, strength, health. And well, you tried to keep it out of your mind as much as possible - Arlecchino’s love kept you very fulfilled anyway - but now your thoughts were spiraling into something not so nice.

You tried to not think about it. You knew deep down she was like that but hearing it verbalized so clearly was draining for you. But it was okay, right? You were good enough for Arlecchino, you repeated in your head. You’re good enough for her, you tried to convince yourself. There was no need to dwell on it.

But once a seed has been planted, it’s hard to stop its growth.

—

You didn’t get much sleep that night. The morning had come rather quickly, light filtering in through the windows. Arlecchino’s side of the bed was still untouched and cold. You contemplated staying in bed a while longer, but it was probably better to do something to get your mind off the events of last night. Perhaps a nice, hot bath would do you some good. Dragging yourself out of bed, you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes and padded along to the bathroom, until a glint caught your eye.

Your and Arlecchino’s shared dresser with a rather large mirror.

It held fond memories for you. Oftentimes Arlecchino would sit as you removed her hairclip and began to brush her hair, her face expressionless but still soft as she looked at you in the mirror. Or sometimes you’d be the one sitting down, her hands placed on your shoulders as she stared adoringly at your reflection, complimenting how enticing you looked. How she could just eat you up, kissing your neck, having to resist the urge to leave a smidge of her lipstick there. Bringing you as her plus one was both a curse and a blessing; she could show the whole of Snezhnaya her enthralling darling, but at the same time people laid their filthy eyes on you. Very fond memories indeed.

But that was the last thing on your mind, your reflection staring back at you almost hauntingly. Immediately your eyes couldn’t help but pick out the little imperfections and flaws in your body. Imperfection. The opposite and enemy of perfection. You wondered, did Arlecchino notice these imperfections too? Perhaps, she’s noticed all along and decided to not say a word out of pity?

You shuddered at the thought of disappointing her and quickly retreated to the comfort of your bed after that, hoping your dreams would provide you with something sweeter.

—

You knew you had slept in too late when you awoke to Arlecchino at your bedside. At first, it was a soothing feeling, waking up to fingers stroking your hair. And then realization hit you like a ton of bricks as you scrambled to sit up to which Arlecchino watched you with an unreadable expression.

“A-Arlie!” You half-exclaimed, voice cracking embarrassingly. “You’re home.”

“I was surprised when you weren’t by the door to greet me like usual. You usually never sleep in this late,” she commented, indirectly asking if you were okay.

“Oh well… I just felt more tired than usual,” you replied, which wasn’t really a lie. Arlecchino narrowed her eyes at you.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been staying up late again,” she sighed when she saw your nervous guilty smile. “I keep telling you to sleep instead of waiting up for me,” she gently tsked as she glided her finger under your eyes. “It is not healthy for you.”

Your wife’s touch made you hot and you gladly accepted it, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but think back to the Fatui soldier’s words. You probably looked so imperfect right now. Arlecchino noticed the change of expression on your face.

“What’s wrong?” Well damn, you didn’t mean for that to happen.

“Oh, nothing,” you quickly reassured her. “You know, just the sleep deprivation kicking in.” That excuse probably didn’t even make any sense but you had to roll with it. Arlecchino simply stared at you before answering.

“You do look more tired than usual. You should rest for a while longer,” she nodded as she guided you back into a lying position. You don’t think she fully bought your excuse but at least that exchange was over.

That was only the beginning of your distance behavior, which Arlecchino easily noticed. You wouldn’t initiate physical contact anymore, and wouldn’t “surprise” her with hugs from behind. No longer would you go on about your day when she got home from work. Whenever she got into bed with you, you’d always pretend to be asleep instead of spending the night talking with her. It was strange and made her feel… not good.

Arlecchino was a very observant lover and could read your mood very well, even more so when you tried to hide it. Usually, she could pinpoint what caused it or you would tell her. But this time you were completely silent. Not just for a little while too, it had been days.

She’d find out why tonight. How? Because tonight was your regularly scheduled dinner date night.

Arlecchino was a classy woman. She could always appreciate a private, fancy dinner with her beloved. And though it was only in her mansion, it didn’t stop her from wearing her best suit and encouraging you to dress up as well. Both of you always enjoyed these nights. It was usually mostly you doing the talking, but she took pleasure in hearing you chatter over a nice meal. Not to mention she liked to feed you dessert.

Normally you’d be ecstatic to spend time with your wife. But now? Now you were kind of terrified. You were going to be so close to her. She would be able to see your every move. Dissect you with those piercing eyes of hers. Your mind was going to the worse possible places and you didn’t like it.

Were there any wrinkles in your outfit? Hair combed perfectly? Wait, was your outfit even nice? What if it was and it just looked poorly on you? You found yourself worrying over the minor details far too much. But you didn’t have much more time to fret before Arlecchino entered the room with a slight smile.

“You look ravishing, my dear,” she hummed as she circled you, her heels click-clacking against the floors and her eyes dragging across your body. Her compliment did make your heart sing a little.

“Thank you, love,” you managed a smile to which Arlecchino reciprocated. You held out your held and Arlecchino grasped it with hers, kissing it.

“Shall we go?”

“We shall.”

—

There was no laughter or conversation to be heard during this particular dinner. The only thing that could be heard was the clatter of knives and forks against plates. It was unsettling how you didn’t even try to start up a conversation. How when Arlecchino tried to get you to speak, your only responses were a few words or merely a nod.

Why? Because your mind was racing over things you never worried about before. Was your voice pleasing to her ear? Was it too high or too low? Best not to test it. Was your etiquette good enough? The idea of not being perfect enough was still eating away at you, even in the things that didn’t matter.

Arlecchino always thought herself to be prepared for many things, many kinds of situations, and outcomes as a Harbinger. Though as a lover, it seems that she had some room to grow, she thought as she watched you change into something more comfortable and get ready for bed. But she was going to attempt to remedy that.

“[Name], speak to me.” Straight to the point as usual.

“About?”

“Why have you been so distant lately? It’s as if you’re a completely different person.”

“Everything is fine.”

“There’s no need to lie when you’re with me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Both of us know this cannot go on any longer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“[Name]-”

“I am fine!” Your voice snapped before you realized what you’d done. “I’m fine,” you repeated softly as you turned your face away. “Sorry.”

The room was silent for a few moments before your wife spoke again.

“My lover is the last person I thought I’d be interrogating,” Arlecchino’s voice dropped to a softer tone, one that was quite rare. It was making you weak.

“I know… and I’m sorry,” you said in a deflated manner, the weight of the whole situation catching up to you. “I’m sorry…”

“Do not be sorry,” Arlecchino gently corrected you. “Simply be honest and tell me what is wrong. Your troubles are my troubles as well, love, and I swear to fix them.” She came to sit next to you on the bed, tentatively placing her blackened hand on your shoulder to gauge your reaction, and then running it up and down your back once she saw your approval. You felt like an idiot for wanting to cry right now.

“I know, I just-” You started to sound like a broken record at this point but divulging such thoughts was definitely not easy at all. But there was no way to escape this conversation so you had to come clean eventually. At least Arlecchino was extremely patient with you.

“It’s me,” you finally said. “I’m… the problem,” you stated quietly, head hung low and staring at your legs. You had done it now.

“You?” Your wife repeated. “How could you ever be a problem?” Arlecchino remained calm on the outside but her mind was racing with questions that needed answers. She placed her fingers on your chin and guided your face to look at hers instead.

You balled your fists and opened your mouth to speak but it was beginning to clog and dry up from your overwhelming emotion. “I’m not good enough,” you blurted out in one go. “Not good enough for you.” You were sure your heart was racing faster than what should be humanly possible. You squeezed your eyes shut, afraid of what her facial expression would be. Archons, you just wanted to disappear into nothingness right now.

Arlecchino was momentarily shocked, even letting the emotion show on her face for a split second before she quickly schooled it back to her normal expression. Though she had no idea how you came to such a conclusion, she was not going to let you believe such lies for another second.

“[Name], look at me. Now,” she commanded. With that tone of voice, you knew better than to disobey her. Hesitantly you opened your eyes, reluctantly making eye contact with her, the red X’s in her eyes staring directly at you.

“You’re wrong,” she stated plainly, not meant to hurt you but rather convey to you what she thought was the obvious truth. “You could not be farther from the truth. How has such an erroneous belief infiltrated your mind?” You didn’t really know how to respond to that so you merely shrugged your shoulders and broke eye contact again, but she quickly tapped your cheek so you could look at her again.

“I guess… I guess I was just thinking about how perfect you are, and how everything around you is perfect as well, and I don’t… deserve to be around you,” your voice trailed off towards the end. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back the tears. Arlecchino paused for a moment seeming to take in your words before she spoke.

“It is true I surround myself with perfection. But does that not already answer your question? You are perfect to me. There is nothing I do not adore about you.” A quiet “oh” was the only word you could muster in response to that. Although it wasn’t enough to completely rid you of your insecurities, her genuine words of affirmation were starting to make you feel a little better.

“I don’t think you know how utterly addicted I am to you. I crave every part of your being so often, it drives me crazy,” she whispered. “I may look calm now, but inside I can feel myself burning at the mere thought of you.” Arlecchino let go of your chin and reached for your hand, guiding it to her face. “There is absolutely no one else I would want as a spouse. Do you understand?”

The lump in your throat had grown much larger so the only thing you managed was a meek nod.

“Can you use your words, love?”

“Y-yes,” your voice was teetering on the edge of breaking down. With that, Arlecchino moved in to place a very gentle kiss on your forehead but that was the final straw for you. Tears gushed down and you hurriedly reached to rub them off, but it was really to no avail because your wife had obviously already seen them.

Admittedly, Arlecchino was not the best when it came to tears and comfort. So she just did what she knew how to do - let you cry into her chest as she stroked your hair and back comfortingly. She didn’t say anything for the time being, letting you get out everything you had been holding in for the past few days. She didn’t care that her shirt was being wetted by your tears. She didn’t care that she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. What she cared about was the person in front of her and their wellbeing.

Neither of you paid attention to how much time went by, as it didn’t mean anything. Eventually, your sobs were reduced to soft hiccups that you managed to mostly keep under control. Arlecchino’s touch and chest were so soft, you felt like you could fall asleep right now after all of that crying, which Arlecchino seemed to notice as well.

“Go to sleep now. You need rest,” your wife instructed, kissing the crown of your head and then gently moving your body to lay down on the plush mattress. She made sure to wipe your face delicately with a tissue as well and kiss the corners of your eyes, stained from your tears. You made a noise of agreement as the soft blankets and pillows were already winning you over. Arlecchino placed a final kiss on your forehead as she sent to off to the land of dreams.

Arlecchino gazed at your face as she pulled away. You looked so tired but still so beautiful. But she would have to talk to you about this again. She was still unsure of why you suddenly started acting this way, not wanting to push the subject immediately. Did someone feed you lies? Or was it truly just on your own? Regardless, she was going to make sure to reverse those thoughts as much as possible. Everything about you was so lovely. So charming, so divine. No matter how long it took, no matter how many times she had to reassure you, she’d make sure you were aware of her feelings.

Arlecchino clasped her hand with your own and squeezed it. You would always be more than enough for her.

Perfect.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino #arlecchino angst #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #fatui #fatui arlecchino #i think the pacing got a lil bad but... yea arlie fluff !

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zensations35 · 30 days

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Don't Call Me A Cabbage (Haz/bin)

Aahhhii okay here's my humorous/sweet/semi-angsty Caretaker Alastor with sick Charlie fic for @onetrickponi who has been just a doll for us all with constant Haz/bin content 🤤 (Al does get sick in this bc I have no self control 🤣) And here's the sugar on the cream: Poni drew some art for this fic! You'll find it below~ Eeeee Enjoy!

There is a concerned buzz to Alastor’s static today as he peers down at the pink flush veining from Charlie’s cheek circles. “You feel ill?”

Snf “Yeah, I think so…” she uses her whole arm to rub her small black nose, scrunching the bridge and letting out a whine.

Alastor sighs and leans next to her headboard. “What are your symptoms?”

“Umb,” she holds out her hand and begins ticking things off, “Stuffy ndose, sndeezing, sore throat, headache…”

“Do you have a fever?” he asks.

“I…I dunno…”

Alastor pops toward the box of medical supplies she keeps in her room--it was a silent consensus that no one could be trusted with this stuff in a public room.

He digs around for a thermometer and waits next to her. She looks up at him and he gestures to her mouth, open up, come now.

She does and he tucks it under her tongue, not comfortably either. She swallows a wince of pain as she waits for it to beep. Once it does, Alastor looks at the number and hums. “I see.”

Charlie stretches to peek at it but he’s already moving away, sanitizing the edge and groping around in the box for other things.

“What’d it say?” she asks.

“You are certainly ill,” he says.

She twists her mouth in a frown. Wow. Okay. She scrubs at her nose again, fingers curled into a tight fist, “Ihh hnn-KS’IEhwww!” a fork of flame wends its way around her wrist and both her and Alastor’s eyes widen at it.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh dear,” Alastor spins on his heel and rummages in a closet, whisking out a fireproof blanket, silvery fabric glinting in the light as he hauls it over to Charlie and wraps her in it from waist to head.

“There we are,” he smirks at her, “Comfortable?”

Charlie gives him a wan smile. No…

“Yep!” she lies cheerily.

He nods and sets a can of emergency fire extinguisher spray on her bedside table with a plink before manifesting his cane and tapping it on the plush pink carpet. “Now, you get some rest while I fetch you--”

“Wait!” Charlie worms around in the surprisingly well burrito��d blanket. “What about the hotel? Everyone will--hieea--IEK’SHH!!” this time the blanket smothers the flames before they can cause any serious harm to anything around them.

Alastor beams. “Not to worry, my dear, I will take care of it.” He gives her a goodbye pat on the head, the blanket crackling beneath his palm, and he strolls out of the room.

Well, at least this gives him a chance to catch up on things he’s missed since his ‘absence’. He waves a hand and a chair grows from a cloud of green smoke. Alastor perches upon it, crossing a leg and pulls out a newspaper from the void to read.

Four newspapers later, footsteps press along the hall. Alastor’s ears flick and his eyes flit up to see Angel Dust approaching Charlie’s door. He closes his paper and folds it up into a perfect square, shifting to close in on the spider demon.

Before Angel can reach the handle of Charlie’s door, Alastor’s cane THUNKs the carpet, almost chopping his toe off.

“Excuse me,” Alastor’s neck cricks as he stands fluidly. “What are you doing here?”

Angel’s gold tooth glints, annoyance flashing across his face. “I’m gonna see Charlie. Whatcha got a monopoly on her room now?”

“Yes.”

Angel blinks at him. Then shakes his head, hair flopping. “Whateva, out of my way.”

Alastor glides in front of the door, smile standing firm. “Charlie is occupied at the moment. You may bring your inquiries to me.”

Angel folds his lower arms, “What, you’re in charge?”

Alastor’s dials amp slightly. Well, Charlie didn’t not put him in charge. And with her angry girlfriend gone on a frivolous mission, who else could feasibly hold this place together, really?

“Yes, I am.” He says, voice silky static. “What can I help you with, pastel one?”

Angel props an upper arm on his hip, considering. “Alright...fine. We need a referee o’ sorts.”

Alastor opens his arm, “Lead the way.”

At the bar, Husk and Sir Pentious are glaring at each other looking equally pissed off, and in the middle of a heated argument.

“What seems to be the problem?” Alastor asks, in a semi-bored tone.

Sir Pentious fans his hood angrily, pointing a bent claw at the overgrown kitten. “He called me slimy! I am not slimy--amphibians are slimy! My scales,” he wiggles his hands down the length of his slithery form, “are cool and dry. I do not need to be kept moist--”

“Eiyeg!” Husk makes a disgusted face. “Don’t call yourself moist.”

“I said I do not need to be moist--”

“BEH!!” Husk makes a vulgar gesture, and Pentious rattles back angrily.

Alastor groans, the sound strumming tinnitus into the group’s ears, causing them all to cease the argument.

“Well,” the Radio Demon rotates his wrist indifferently, “it sounds like the snake man knows more about snakes than the non snake demons. If they say something incorrect about your anatomy, just threaten them with disembowelment and move on.”

“But!” Pentious stiffens anxiously, “we’re supposed to stop being mean!” He spreads his arms, “How else are we to be redeemed?”

Alastor growls, tapping the point of his claw to his chin. “Very well then,” he shrugs, eyes fluttering with disinterest, “ignore the fools for the ignorant cabbages they are.”

Husk’s fur stands as high as its ends will allow, tail whisking left to right. “Did you just call me a fuckin’ cabbage??!”

“Now, off you are.” Alastor shoos them. “Enjoy my good advice and quit your grousing.” He doesn’t bother waiting to see if they actually do stop grousing. His job is complete.

Alastor, having returned to the hallway outside Charlie’s room, basks in the afterglow of being on the button, as always.

His ear twitches when a piercing sound breaks the door’s seal. “Hiat’ESSiew!!”

Hm. Obviously her room needs soundproofing. Proper soundproofing. Otherwise the entire hotel will find out about her ailment. She shouldn’t let her underlings see her weak. No, no, Alastor will help with that.

He slips inside and begins fussing around, tossing green and black magic around the room until it settles into the bones of the wall, absorbing into the plaster.

“What'd you just do?” she asks.

“I have soundproofed your bedroom for you!” Alastor thrusts his chin proudly, fist pressed to his chest.

“But…” Charlie nibbles her lip with a fang, “how will you hear mbe? If I ndeed you?” her words are syrupy and lethargic. Poor dear.

Alastor waves his upturned finger, smoke cloying the air as he manifests twin speakers above the bed.

“There we go.” He snaps his fingers and a smaller radio appears in his hand. “Now I can hear you and you can hear me.”

And no one will know you are sick and weak…

“Uhh…cool…” her teeth fan in a forced smile. “Thangks Alast-ih!” her fingers web her lips, small pitchy gasps breaking through her throat, “ehh-ieeh! AEX'SHiieewwWW!!” Embers flutter the blanket around her and she shivers, teeth chittering into a nose scrunching sniffle.

His smile drops a tick and he reaches for her. Something comforting…what should he--

BANG BANG BANG!

Charlie jumps and both of their heads swivel to the door. Alastor’s eyes darken. What the fuckbucket is going on now?

“What was that?” she whimpers.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he murmurs and dissolves into shadow, reappearing in front of a stunned Angel and Pentious quibbling in one of the rooms.

“What is it now?” Alastor growls.

Angel snarls, gold tooth winking in the dim light. “He,” the spider points at the snake, “stole my sandwich!”

Pentious gasps, more of a squeak really, and clutches his overripe chest, “Your sandwich?! That was my sandwich! I--”

“Liar!” Angel is yelling now. “I fuckin made this sandwich! With my own three hands!”

“Oh, now you are flaunting your many limbs at--”

“S̸̖̯̖͊ile̷̠͗ń̴͕̹̇̅͝c̵̐͝e̴͕͙̅!”

The word reverbrates into the empty air. Both sinners look at Alastor, lips thin and firm.

“Since neither of you can go a single hour without bickering,” Alastor snaps his fingers and the sandwich vanishes from the table. Both men whine with indignation as Alastor unfurls his hand with a plate, the sandwich fully formed atop.

“Now, neither of you gets to eat it.”

“Hey! What rule says that?!”

“The ‘fuck around, find out’ rule.” The Radio Demon ignores the rest of their protests and brings the sandwich back to Charlie.

When he presents it to her, she is quite pleased.

“Mmm~! Wow, this is good! Did Pentious make this? It tastes like the ones he makes.”

Alastor doesn’t answer but he files the information for later.

“I am glad you app--”

He pauses as her cheek curls with a tiny snarl, “Hiek’ETSHFFWW!” She dips into her elbow, mangling the sandwich with her twisting fist.

“Hm,” Alastor almost frowns. She doesn’t seem to be improving much. “I deem you in need of rest and perhaps medication.”

She snuffles, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “We dodt habv bedicide…”

“Yes, well, you leave that to me.” He spins on a dime and uses a flick of his wrist to dim the lights. “Rest, my dear. I will return shortly.”

In classic hell fashion, as soon as he decided to leave, rain started pouring. It slices down around him, shushing through his ears as he drags himself across the barren streets. The downpour is oddly unpleasant--it doesn’t normally bother Alastor. But tonight it’s cold.

By the time his errands are done, the chill has settled straight into the marrow of his bones.

Wracked with shivers, he uses the back entrance, dodging the glow of the television in the main room.

A sibilating flick of his fingers evaporates most of the water and he enters Charlie’s room barely before daybreak to administer the medicine.

She’s already awake when he enters--an early riser, like himself. And from the sound of her breath, he’s arrived perhaps too late--she needed this remedy long ago.

“EKFSH’DK!” Her sneezing is growing more raw and ragged, scraping her throat and causing her to devolve into coughing fits. Rgh. If only he weren’t being pulled into helping the wretched sinners with their trivial matters.

He jerks the door shut before her sneezes can wake the rest of the hotel.

“Aaaalastor?” her voice crumbles his name, “did you go outside?”

“Just popped out to fetch a remedy for you.” He cracks open the seal and pours the vile liquid into a tiny cup. Charlie does a poor job of hiding her revulsion.

She still smiles when she takes the medication, which makes him proud at least. As he’s tucking the medicine back into the box, a wingbeat of irritation flutters his features. “Ih٨ـfff…” He presses the heel of his palm against his nose. Oh fuck no. Goddamn rain, goddamn cold, fuck. Not here, not now not--

“Alastor?” he hears her cracked call. Fuck. She needs something and his nose still itches. He scrubs it with the back of his wrist, fangs sawing each other to the quick of his gums.

“One m٨ـmoment…”

One. Just one. Get it out of his system.

“Hvv-YZZ٨ـZ!” his ears flatten and puff out, finishing the sneeze with a shiver before he sniffles and brushes a wrinkle from his jacket.

There. He’s fine. He hurries back to Charlie’s side, hoping she didn’t hear--

“What was that noise?” she asks, fingers lightly crimping the blanket up to her chest.

His heart trips on his tongue and he clears his throat to settle it. “Nothing my dear. A hiccup in the speakers.” He turns his smile to her and clasps his hands behind his back. “What can I do for you?”

She blinks her bruised eyes up at him, voice high and sandpapery, “I’m hungry…”

“Then I shall make you food. I make a mean salt and cabbage soup for flu season!”

“Ehhh…sounds…great…” Charlie gives him a thumbs up.

In the kitchen, he finds most of the ingredients he needs. He has to use butter instead of lard (fucking heathens…) He opens the cabinets, glowing eyes casting the ceramic bowls and cheap plastic spice containers in a pink hue. His claws encircle several choices and he adds them to his concoction.

He doesn’t measure--no, he does what his family taught him: scent, taste, sight. “Eyeball it”. Cooking is an art!

So, into the soup the ingredients go, of varying magnitudes. Alastor tastes and sniffs until he’s satisfied. However…something that doesn’t normally happen when he’s cooking starts…his nose begins to run.

He lifts a knuckle to quell the itch, but even a few rubs doesn’t abate it.

He steps out of the steam, but the sensation surprised him so much, (he was cooking for heaven’s sake!) hitches barely began to flutter in his throat before he jerked to the side.

“Hp٨ـZZF!” He catches one in his wrist, neck crooked to the right, but only half a breath is allowed before his shoulders shake into a second, “Yzﮩـﮩ٨ـzZZV̵͕̳̬̽̉̃̽F̵́̑͝F̷̖͎̋̀͛̎!”

“Oh great,” a deep tenor behind him makes the Radio Demon startle, but not enough to make him jump. He has enough sense to snake his handkerchief out of his pocket and dab his face before Husker can see anything untoward.

“Hm?” Alastor buzzes back.

Husker roots around in the fridge for the carton of milk, “Now whoever eats that is gonna get sick.”

Alastor chuffs, “You needn’t worry about that.”

Husker straightens, flicking the door shut with his tail. He cocks his head when he sees Alastor’s profile, his left ear twitching. “Have you even slept lately?”

“I said not to worry, Husker.”

The bartender’s lips press firmly together, considering. Then he snorts, taking his milk and exiting the kitchen with a, “Fuck it.”

Soup steaming, yet cooled to appropriate consumption temperature, Alastor serves it to Charlie in bed. As soon as her mouth closes around the aromatic liquid, her face scrunches, eyes watering with saline. “Mgk!” Her throat bobs with a thick swallow, and her palm thrusts the base of her triangled nose. “Ah-iyee! Ouff!”

She frees her other hand to fan her tear-streaking face, “Th-thpithy!! Hih--” her teeth notch over her spice-baked tongue, “Aik’tzPF!” her hands fly up to tent the spray as she jackknifes into her knees. “EiighSHP!”

Alastor’s ears flatten and he rescues the bowl before it can tump over from her wracking movements.

“I…I didn’t intend for…” he hesitates, a chisel grating at his chest.

“No, no, ndo!!” she snuffles, waving a hand about blindly fumbling for the tissues as her sealed eyes continue to leak. “Don’t be-hih- ESKieww! S-sorry!”

Alastor struggles to keep his smile in place as he grabs the box and hands it to her.

“Thangk you aughk…” she quickly blows and wipes her face, dabbing her eyes so she can see again. They’re rather red and veined now and the guilt gnaws further into Alastor’s stomach.

He stands swiftly, soup slopping over the rim of the bowl. “I will get you something else--”

“No!” Charlie grabs his arm and his eyes dart to her, ears erect as if he were being attacked. “It was good!” she continues, oblivious to his discomfort. “Really! I’ll eat it--”

Alastor feels the chains on his heart weaken, just a smidge. Ill and weak, and she still just wants to make the entire fucking world happy. He takes his free hand and pats hers, using it to shift her grip on his arm gently.

“No, my dear. There is no need for that. Relax. I will find you something to suit your needs.”

When he arrives back in the kitchen, Angel Dust is sitting at the bar counter, spooning a pink bowl of…Alastor’s soup…into his mouth.

Alastor’s horns instantly thicken and grow. “What are you do٨ـing?!”

Angel’s eyes widen at the rage in his tone. “Whoa, chill out man, I’m just eatin’.”

Alastor slams his bowl down, tiny fractures spiderwebbing the ceramic, as his features darken. “That food was not meant for you.” He moves to reach for Angel’s bowl but Angel pulls it closer to himself.

“Hey, dude! There was plenty! Who made you King of the Kitchen?”

Alator’s claws begin to slick with shadows, “You don’t understand, you fucking imbecile. I made that soup.”

“And that makes you the boss of it, yea?” Angel dips his spoon into the bowl and exaggeratedly sticks it into his mouth, “Mmmmm~♡!”

Alastor snarls, “Rrrhh! You f̵̛̜̯̲̼͍̀͆ú̵��̹c̴̗̭̲̑͗̎͗̐͛̕k̷̡̔̌̿̋̃͘ͅị̸̤̱̯͆͌̉̀͑̃̆n̵̻̟͕͍͑g̵̨̗̭̩̣̮̱͐̈́̂͛!!”

“Oh yeah~” Angel continues licking the spoon and moaning until he’s practically deep throating it.

“Stop it right fucking now before I rip your throat apart to--”

“Hey!” Husker’s voice freezes the spoon halfway down Angel’s throat, both men’s eyes flicking to the hackled bartender. “What the royal fuck are you two doing?” His gaze locks onto Angel who un-swallows the spoon. Alastor also simmers down, features retracting back to normal and he straightens his bowtie.

“Angel, why are you sexually antagonizing the asexual?”

“I ain’t. He got pissy cuz I ate some fuckin soup!”

Alastor lets out a keening laugh, “I did not cook this for you.”

Husk pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jesus fucking crackers.” He sucks in a breath, “alright,” he snaps his fingers at the spider, “Angel, quit eating the fucking soup.”

“But--”

“What? Is it so damn good you can’t live without it?”

Angel’s mouth opens, but his eyes slide to Alastor whose smugness keeps dialing up the longer Angel’s silence lasts. Oh he is not paying that asshole any compliments.

“Fine! Whateva!” he shoves the bowl away and throws himself off the stool, storming away with his arms folded over his chest fluff.

Alastor victoriously starts cleaning the dishes but Husk speaks over his shoulder, voice a low half grumble.

“You should’ve just told him why you didn’t want him eating it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Husk snorts, “Fine. Pretend you don’t actually give a shit about people. But it’s gonna bite you in the ass one day.”

Alastor’s teeth click shut, ignoring Husk until the feathered cat leaves the room.

He knows nothing.

Nothing…

He gets the new soup prepared and with no interruptions, brings it to Charlie. He barely has time to place it at her bedside table before some fucking asshole knocks at the door! How does she deal with their constant bemoaning??

All but vibrating with annoyance, Alastor opens the door to find Niffty. Well, at least it’s someone he likes.

“Niffty, my dear, how may I help you?”

“I just killed the beetle queen!” she beams.

“Ah, you did very well!”

“Do I get a gold star?” she asks, hands clasped in front of her apron, mouth in a slit of a smile.

“Ahmm…?”

“Charlie gives us gold stars for good behavior. I want one.”

“Mmm, very well.” Alastor closes the door behind him. This shouldn’t take long and it’s only Niffty. He won’t have to interact with anyone else. “Where does Charlie keep the gold stars?”

Niffty taps a letter opener against her razor teeth. “I dunno.”

He shrugs and manifests one--very large and very shiny--handing it to her in her tiny arms. Her eye bulges and she grins all the way into her hairline.

“Ooooh, I’m the best!!”

“Of course you are.”

“Hey!”

Alastor cringes when he hears another voice. It doesn’t fucking matter who it belongs to--he doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

“Why does she get a bigger star than us?” Angel asks.

“Yesss!” Pentious adds, somehow they’ve all been summoned by pettiness. “I worked hard for mine! Why does Niffty get a big one and we do not!?”

Alastor’s fingers squeeze the hilt of his cane, his brow creasing as his nose fuzzes with rage and…hhhfffﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Be-c-ahh-ause! I actually like the sound of Niffty’s voice. I hh-fvvﮩ٨ـ-uck!” he folds his claw over his nose, shadows dripping from his skin.

“Boss?” Husk steps closer, tail flicking anxiously behind him, “are you--”

Alastor’s limb extends, inky shadows lashing out, “Don’t f̴͈̌ȕ̸̟̭̬̒̿c̶̝͙͐́̔̈͘͜k̵̢̗̪̤̘̞̺͗̚ḭ̴̊͋͆ņ̴͔͕͎̄̾̆͌̋͘̕g̴̊̏̒̌͛͊ touch me!” His joints crack and clip as he backs away, retreating with the heel of his palm shoved against the tip of his nose. “Hfz’ ju-hhﮩ٨ـZST!” shadows fold over him, fog clinging to his flesh as his voice burns with static, “Stay away from me, from Charlie, and my fucking sou٨ـﮩ٨p!” he yells, before vanishing into the cloud of skyless fog.

The group exchanges looks and frowns.

“That guy has fuckin’ issues.”

Husk exhales through his teeth. “You got no fuckin idea…”

“Alastor!” Charlie squeaks when he manifests in her room, horns wide, eyes dark pools. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Alastor drinks deep breaths, calming himself mentally and physically with each exhale. “I--hhh-I…” his hand hoods his face and he drops his chin as his breaths saw violently in his throat, “XHZZT!”

Charlie’s fingers press at her cheeks and she whimpers with sympathy. “I got you sick!”

Alastor pants, bracing himself on the footboard. “I am perfectly--”

“Don’t you say fine!” she thrusts a finger at him, cheeks puffed righteously. Alastor stares at her narrowing gaze. “Don’t. You. Dare.” Her pointer finger waggles and she bends it toward the heart pillow on the other side of the bed. “Sit.”

His eyes slide toward the pillow, horror dripping from his expression.

Charlie’s lip turns up. “I said sit, Mister!”

“I don’t need--”

“I need.” She snuggles into her fireproof blanket and unfurls a pink fuzzy one just for him alone. She pats the open space. “Sing to me?”

His eyes fade immediately back to magenta. “What?”

Her irises glisten and grow, her face taking on that famous ‘puppy dog cute’ that infuriates him normally but…

“My mom used to sing to me when I was sick.”

He can’t help it. A song? When was the last time he sang a song? He snorts a tiny laugh. “Well, I suppose you’re asking the right person.” He slips tentatively onto the bed, tucking only his toes under the blanket as he scrolls through his mental list of songs to soothe her.

“Let’s see…”

Non, rien de rien

Non, je ne regrette rien

Why this song?

Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait

Ni le mal

Tout ça m'est bien égal

Heaven, his lids are heavy…

Non, rien de rien

Non, je ne regrette rien

C'est payé, balayé, oublié

Is she asleep?

Je me fous du passé

Avec mes souvenirs

J'ai allumé le feu

Is he…?

Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs

Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux

Balayé les amours

.ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Avec leurs trémolos

Balayé pour toujours

Je repars à zéro

Charlie wakes to find Alastor still asleep, head leaning back against the puffy heart pillow, his monocle dangling next to his cheek. His tiny snores are little more than static fuzz.

She wants to tuck him in so bad, but she wants him to sleep more, so she glides from under her blanket and pads out of the room.

When she enters the main area, Angel, Husk, and Pentious are all sitting around a card game. Husk perks up when his ears twitch and he sees her enter.

“Hey,” he rumbles. “Feeling better?”

Angel swings his whole body around the back of the couch, “Oy! Where tha fuck you been? Alastor’s dungeon?”

“We placed betsss!” Pentious sniggers.

Charlie shakes her head, matted braid flopping around her shoulders. “Nah. I was sick. Alastor’s been taking care of me.”

“He did what now?” Angel gawps.

“He must have brainwasshed you!”

“No, really! He--”

Husk sighs, “He’s asleep, right?”

Charlie nods.

Angel wheezes. “How’d you know?”

“He’s sick.”

“How’d you know that?”

Husk rolls his eyes. “Cuz I’m the only one who pays attention to you fuckers.” He thumbs the hallway. “Alastor got sick, made the soup. Angel started eating it. Alastor got mad--”

Angel’s lip pops open, “Aw what the fuck!” his arms flap, “why didn’t he just say! Wait--am I gonna get sick now?”

“Calm down everyone,” Charlie presses the air with her palms. “He went out and bought enough medicine for all of us.”

“But, wait, why? You’re the only one who needed it.”

Charlie smiles to herself, thumbing the medicine cup as warmth spreads through her chest. If there’s hope for him, there’s hope for all of them.

She can’t wait to tell Vaggie.

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