First Of All, I’d Like To Apologize If You Don’t Like OOC Fanfics Or Charlastor Fics, Please Ignore

First of all, I’d like to apologize if you don’t like OOC fanfics or Charlastor fics, please ignore this one if that’s the case! So basically, this is about if Charlie and Alastor had been human and grew up together. This is entirely based on if Alastor was Demiromantic (which actually falls under the Aromantic umbrella) and had fallen in love with Charlie towards the end of their schooling/early adulthood. It is set so that they were born around 1904/1905. But anyways! I’m giving away the whole entire plot! Don’t mind me! Some warnings do include: References to violence/murder, OOC-ness of main characters, and there is some r-rated language. There are almost zero references towards, ahem, adult activities, or even really any kissing. Mostly references cuddles and hugs. Also, if anyone wants to suggest a name for this, please do so. Again, wasting your time! Sorry! Let’s get this show on the road!

A Charlastor AU

Alastor was angry. He was sad. He was grieving. He stood at his wife’s funeral, his smile was in place, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. Her friends and family had come, as well as his.

“She left this world far too early.”

“Taken away before her time.”

“She was far too kind for this world.”

Alastor couldn’t agree more. Charlotte, or Charlie as she preferred, his wife, his confidant, his world, was gone. They had grown up together, even though they came from wildly different backgrounds. His mother had been the Magne family’s head chef, and they had allowed her to bring Alastor along, saying that they had a daughter of the same age, and they could even play together.

Alastor had been a shy child, though, so when he first met Charlie at the tender age of 5, and she had immediately declared him her “bestest friend”, well... he had hid behind his mothers skirts. She had pushed him back out though and urged him to get to know the little heiress, telling him that he couldn’t spend all his time with his mother, and he knew well enough he wasn’t allowed in the kitchens anyways, “Too many knives, dear.”

So, he had been pulled out of the house and into the lavish gardens by the little girl wearing a frilly pink dress, that apparently she hated.

They had spent the entire day and the days to follow together, and when the time came for them to go to school, they both thought that they would be separated, only for Alastor to be invited to attend the school Charlie was going to go to. When he asked his mother, she said that Charlie’s parents had offered the scholarship as a “perk” of working for them. (Later on, Alastor would find out that Charlie’s mother, Lily, had seen the school Alastor would be attending and immediately denied it, saying there was no way any friend of Charlie’s was going to go to such a run down school)

And so the trend continued through their adolescence, until it was time to graduate. By this time, the two were nigh inseparable, and Alastor, despite his best efforts, had fallen in love. It wasn’t until his first broadcast a year and a half later that he finally got the courage to ask her out for a date. And only because he had found out the hard way that Charlie had a jealous streak a mile wide.

Alastor had laughed at his own idiocy, “Darling, why don’t we go out dancing tomorrow night?”

Charlie peeked up at him, her cheeks a rosy hue from her embarrassment, “Like a date?”

Alastor grinned, his chest warm, “Yes, Doll. A real date.”

And the rest was history. At least to the rest of the world.

You see, Charlie was the only person in the world who knew the identity of the New Orleans killer. And not only did she know who he was, but she literally helped him get away with murder. After all, she loved him.

She also created his cause: only ever kill the ones who were dirty. Abusers, rapists, dirty cops and dirtier officials.

She had helped him bury bodies or clean up blood on multiple occasions. She had even acted as a lure for others. She had been the one to come up with the template for his victims when he had admitted to her his desires to hurt others those years ago, “We can’t control your urges, Al, but we can aim them in a more... proactive direction.”

The 1930’s were rife with crime, if the FBI were to be believed. Just last year they had come out with a Bulletin, trying to get the public to speak up. They also had a fancy new lab for solving crime. ‘Oh well’ Alastor thought, ‘37 victims in and they’ve yet to even come close to me. Then again, I had Charlie before.’

Another wave of grief washed over him. He felt actual tears roll down his cheeks. Finally he was asked to speak.

Alastor cleared his throat, speaking was his specialty, but now it seemed so hard, “Charlie... she was my entire world, my confidant, my only love, and my.. partner-in-crime. She never deserved this. She was always so happy! Her smiles even outshone mine! I just want her back, if I’m entirely honest. I’d give anything to hold her again.” He turned, a blood red rose and a fist full of dirt clutched in either hand as they finished lowering her, he kissed the rose and tossed it down, then threw the handful of dirt as well. At that moment, something about Alastor seemed to fracture. After that day, no one ever saw him without a smile again.

Charlie

She awoke in a strange, gray room. Surrounding her were 3 forms, their faces indistinguishable, “Charlotte Rose Magne, you have been brought before us for judgement. Do you repent for your sins? Do you accept Lord Jesus Christ as your savior?”

“Repent? Repent for what?”

“For aiding in the murder of 37 individuals.”

“You mean taking horrible people off the street? For loving my husband?”

“If you shall not repent, to Hell you shall be sent.”

Before anything else could be said, three gavels slammed down, and Charlie could feel fire burning her soul. As she fell, she changed. Horns grew from her forehead, curling backwards, her sclera turned blood red, and her iris poison yellow. She lost all color, turning porcelain white. Her canines sharpened and she could taste blood in her mouth. She landed on a strange ground, everything around her was red, and there was a set of wrought iron gates in front of her. She picked herself up, walking forward.

So this was Hell. It was nothing like what she expected. Demons walked the streets, from all the eras thus far. She looked to her left and saw her reflection, ‘Well this just won’t do.’ She felt a strange tug as she concentrated on changing her appearance to that without the horns and eyes. There. Once her eyes had changed to black with yellow sclera and her horns were gone, she looked like an actual doll. She grinned.

Looking around some more, she noticed there were demons selling drugs and murdering others out in the open. It was obvious to her that everything goes in this place. There is one thing she is certain of, though. She needs some kind of protection.

There was a commotion to her right, a building that looked like a jazz lounge stood, and in front of it she could hear two demonesses arguing, “you can’t just up and quit! You’re our only Canary!”

Mimzy, I do believe I just did! Now enough with this jive, I’m off to bigger and better things!”

Charlie decided this was her chance. She knew she had a great voice, Alastor and others had always told her so. She felt a pang of grief and pain. Alastor...

She pushed it aside. She needed a job to survive now. She would just wait for her husband. They wouldn’t be apart forever.

“Excuse me! You’re Ms. Mimzy? You own this lounge?”

The demoness turned to her, “Yes, that’s me. What do you need?”

Charlie grinned, using the charm that her husband had taught her when she wanted something, “Why! I’ve heard quite a bit about this place and I would just love the chance to audition for a singing position. I’m told I have quite the pipes, and you seem to have found yourself in need of a canary!”

Mimzy looked Charlie up and down before hefting a heavy sigh, “Fine, at least you’re a looker. Let’s go. Hopefully you aren’t a trip for biscuits.”

Charlie just kept her smile at full blast. She was taken into the clip joint and straight to Mimzy’s office, where she was given a list of songs to pick from. She chose Blue Skies by Irving Berlin, as it was one of her favorites.

As she sang the song, she watched Mimzy’s face go from doubtful, to elated, to downright giddy. When she was done, Mimzy jumped up, “Why I never! What a talent! You can count yourself hired. What is your name anyway? You never told it.”

“My name, Ms. Mimzy, is Charlie.” She said, adding a flourishing curtsy.

“And what kind of demoness are you? I was a Lady in White until they finally got a hold of me and sent me down here.”

Charlie didn’t know how, but she knew the immediate answer, and her grin widened, “I am a siren. If I wanted, I could entrance all those around me. Make them do what I wish. But no worries, Ms. Mimzy, you’ll not have to deal with that unless you ask it of me. I prefer to just let things lie.”

Mimzy laughed, “Oh, but I wouldn’t mind at all if it brought more patrons in. What with that new lounge down the street, patronage has been on the fritz lately.”

“Well then, Ms. Mimzy, I do believe you have yourself a new Canary!”

And thus, for the next year, Charlie would sing at The Black Silhouette, and business was booming. Charlie would use a siren song once or twice in a night in order to draw in patrons, and Mimzy paid her extremely well. By the end of a year, Charlie had more money than a couple overlords with how much she made the lounge. Mimzy ended up having to buy a bigger building just to keep up with the intake of patrons.

There was one incident that became the reason Mimzy knew why Charlie was in Hell in the first place.

One of the men her husband had murdered, a serial rapist if she remembered right, had come to The Black Silhouette with a pally or two and recognized Charlie right away. After all, she’d actually lured him into the trap, and considering his pastime, had wanted a personal hand in bumping him.

He’d made a huge scene, of course, so Charlie had to deal with it personally. Killing him again in front of all her patrons had admittedly been a tad bit thrilling. Unfortunately that nagging guilt had nipped at her heals again. She pushed it down. He was the real monster. Still, she wished her husband was here. He’d enjoy doing the dirty work so she could keep her hands clean.

When Mimzy had asked what that was all about, Charlie had a simple reply, “Why, I used to help my husband murder people of course! He was one of them. Even had a hand in it myself, though I usually prefer not to do the real dirty work.”

She had grinned the entire time. As her husband used to say: smiles are power. If you can smile through anything, then people will always move out of your way.

Charlie missed her husband dearly. Her heart ached every day. She hated the pain, but she also hoped that he didn’t join her too soon.

“Charlie! You’re on in 1 minute!” She grinned.

Alastor

Hell. He was in Hell. The crown of his head still ached where his horns had come in, his smile still ever present, only now his teeth were sharper. There was a constant pain in his stomach, and he knew it would never be relieved. Wendigo. That word crossed his head and he knew it to be true. He stepped through the gates and into Hell’s streets. He didn’t expect to find his wife. She was probably sent up top. The grief struck again.

Truthfully, Alastor had only gotten angrier and messier once his beloved departed.

He would have kept going though, if not for the hunter. That fucking hunter. Those fucking dogs.

As he passed by a Jazz lounge called The Black Silhouette, the door opened and a voice he knew all too well came lilting out, curling around him and soothing something inside him that he didn’t realize until that moment needed soothing.

His head whipped to the side, and he immediately made for the doors to the lounge. He passed the Bouncer and as he caught sight of her, his lungs stopped working.

Up on stage was his Charlie. His doll. His partner-in-crime. She was beautiful in a sparkling red floor length dress, her blonde hair longer now than he remembered, but still gorgeous as ever. She looked like a porcelain doll.

He stood for minutes as she finished, heading backstage. He rushed to go find her. He had to.

Charlie Charlie Charlie.

He was stopped by a small woman, “You may be a fan, but no one is allowed back stage to go see her.”

Alastor felt rage at being held back from his beloved. Red sigils started dancing around his being, smile becoming sharper, “You will not stand between my wife and myself. Move.”

The woman looked shocked, but not by his power, but by his words, “Wait. You’re her husband?” She narrowed her eyes, “What is your name. I’m the only one she’s ever told her husbands name to, so I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Ah. So Charlie trusted this woman enough to tell her his name? He supposed he could play along then. Wouldn’t want to upset Charlie, after so long apart, “Alastor.”

The woman looked at him closely, “Very well. Her dressing room is the third door on the left. There are no names on the doors so people can’t just see who’s in where.”

Without another thought or word, Alastor rushed forward. He got to the door before bursting through it, forgetting for the moment all the manners his mother taught him.

He watched Charlie whip around, her eyes red and yellow, and a vicious smile on her face. Until she caught sight of him, “A-Alastor? Is... that really you?”

“Why hello Darlin! Wasn’t expecting to see you down here!” His heart wouldn’t stop beating.

Charlie let out a watery laugh as Alastor stepped through the door, shutting it firmly, “I refused to repent when they offered, and I knew you wouldn’t, so I got sent here. I managed to run into Mimzy right as I arrived. Her Canary had just flew the coop and she needed a new one so I offered right then and there. After all, I had a lavish lifestyle I was quite used to.”

Alastor chuckled, “Darling, you hated that lifestyle.”

Finally neither could take it and Charlie was in his arms, and he finally felt whole again.