My Sweet Demon Bell (Alastor x daughter reader)

Chapter 17

"I didn't expect Mark to die like that," the rat demon remarked, a mixture of shock and fascination in his voice.

The bat demon, seemingly more closely involved in the events, shuddered as he recounted, "You tell me. I was there the whole time. That deer demoness really put on a show. I couldn't even move a muscle to escape. It was like a nightmare, watching him being torn apart. And the girl is insane. She just looked at him, a sinister smile on her face, laughing as Mark screamed. She seemed to relish every moment of his torment."

"You know she resemble someone you know... Wait, right she did!" the bat demon cheer as he wave his hands in the air.

"and who it might be?" the rat demon ask curiosity growing even bigger than before.

"The Radio Demon!" the bat demon diclare.

Alastor's interest deepened as he heard a familiar name – "the Radio demon." His ears perked up, and he continued to eavesdrop on the conversation, his curiosity growing.

"Don't be absurd. The Radio demon having a child? That's impossible," the rat demon scoffed, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

The bat demon, clearly more informed about the situation, retorted with a shudder, "Believe it or not, but I hear rumors about  that girl, the deer demoness, she's quite something that what people say. They said that she's been with him for years, even after discovering his true nature as a murderer, a serial killer. It's insane how she stands by him, living with him under the same roof. The most part that catch my attention do you think she loves him, as if she's completely oblivious to the danger, to the possibility that one day he might turn on her."

Alastor's brow furrowed as he listened, lost in thought. He couldn't help but find a degree of agreement with the notion. The concept of someone loving a monster, a killer, intrigued him. How could she hold him close, smile, and even hug him, all while knowing the depths of his darkness? Was she blind to the potential peril? His thoughts turned darker as he pondered the depth of her devotion.

As the conversation faded into the background, Alastor continued his leisurely stroll. Even if he want to walk straights to there conversation and rip them apart for intruding in someone's lives it's gonna make it to obvious. The reason he is not having his strolls with her daughter because he don't want anyone find out about her, being connected to him, the echoes of those words lingering in his mind. His footsteps carried him deeper into introspection, reflecting on the complexities of human – and demon – relationships. It was a topic that perpetually intrigued him, a puzzle he enjoyed exploring during his morning walks.

Little did he realize that his musings were about to lead him down a path of self-discovery, forcing him to confront aspects of his own nature that he had long suppressed.

In the heart of the eerie Cannibal Street, Alastor strolled with deliberate leisure, his crimson eyes reflecting the dappled morning light filtering through the twisted branches overhead. Though the air held a noticeable chill, his thoughts were far from the weather. Lost in the labyrinth of his contemplations, he found himself being drawn by an invisible thread toward Rosie's quaint shop.

Nostalgia tugged at Alastor's consciousness, compelling him to seek out the familiar haven that was Rosie's establishment. It had been quite some time since he had engaged in one of their intriguing conversations, and a pang of anticipation coursed through him as he approached the humble façade.

The door creaked open, granting Alastor entry into the eclectic collection of curiosities and wares that only Rosie could curate with such finesse. The scent of aged parchment and brewed tea greeted him, instantly evoking a sense of comfort that felt almost foreign to a demon of his nature.

"Ah, Rosie, my dear," Alastor intoned with an air of familiarity, his velvety voice dancing on the air. "It has indeed been too long since our last encounter isn't it"

A surprised yet delighted smile graced Rosie's features as she looked up from arranging a shelf. "Alastor, darling, you've graced my humble abode once again. I was starting to think you'd forgotten about my little corner of the world and existence"

"Forgotten? Never," Alastor replied, his tone equal parts charm and sincerity. "In fact, I find myself inexorably drawn to the charm and mystique that only you can provide."

The door closed behind him, and Rosie approached with a graceful step, her eyes twinkling. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear Radio demon. Now, what brings you to my humble shop on this fine day?"

Alastor's smile held a touch of enigmatic mystery. "Perhaps a desire for stimulating conversation and a dash of that exquisite tea of yours."

As they exchanged pleasantries and caught up on the happenings within their respective realms, the topic inevitably shifted to the weighty responsibilities they both bore as overlords of hell. Rosie, with a mix of concern and curiosity, asked how Alastor managed to balance his duties with his intriguing nocturnal endeavors.

With a suave inclination of his head, Alastor chuckled. "Ah, my dear Rosie, one must simply learn to embrace the chaos. After all, chaos is the very essence of our domain."

The conversation flowed effortlessly until a memory seemed to stir within Rosie's mind. "You know, Alastor, speaking of interesting individuals, I had a rather unusual encounter with a customer a couple of months ago. A young woman who seemed... strangely familiar."

Alastor's interest was piqued, and he leaned in slightly, his curiosity pandered to. "Oh? Pray, do tell."

"She bore a striking resemblance to you," Rosie mused, her brow furrowing in recollection. "The posture, the tone of voice, the smile... it was uncanny."

Alastor's mask of cool detachment wavered for a fleeting moment, replaced by a subtle ripple of surprise that only a keen observer might catch. 'Darling what are you doing behind my back' he said in his mind trying to think how will confront you about being so reckless'

"Is that so? Well, my dear, you know that Hell is teeming with individuals who share similar features. A mere coincidence, I'm sure."

Rosie, however, seemed undeterred. "Ah, but there's more to the tale. When I mentioned your name, her reaction was... well, it was quite the sight. She seemed almost startled, as if my words had struck a chord deep within her."

A ghost of tension flickered across Alastor's expression before he managed to regain his composure. "A reaction, you say? Fascinating."

"Yes, indeed. And do you know what name she introduced herself as? 'Y/N Williams.'"

Alastor's heart skipped a beat, though he masked it well. His facade of intrigue and mild amusement remained intact. "A curious coincidence, but hardly conclusive evidence of any connection, my dear Rosie. 'Williams' is not an uncommon name, after all."

Rosie's gaze held a knowing glint as she continued, "Of course, Alastor. It's likely a mere happenstance. Still, I couldn't help but find it all rather intriguing."

Their conversation took a lighter turn as they shared a pot of Rosie's finest tea, discussing whimsical topics and savoring the simple pleasures of the moment. Time seemed to slip away as they whiled away the hours, each lost in their own thoughts and the delightful camaraderie they shared.

As the clock hands marched on, Alastor reluctantly rose from his seat, a sense of duty calling him back to his domain. With a gracious smile and a warm exchange of farewells, he took his leave, the bell above the door tinkling softly as he live her shop still deep in thought.