#Checking Into HELL (v; Hazbin Hotel) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lis-likes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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kaylopolis · 1 year ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Twelve

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

SUPRISE, YOU GET TWO CHAPTERS TODAY! Chapter Thirteen is also up! Posted a bit early because I was too excited!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Twelve- The Kidnapping

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!! (let me know if I missed any!)

“It’s been twenty fuckin' minutes!” Velvette kicked at the air. “How much longer do I have to fuckin' wait!?”

The brat demon’s words echoed throughout the night. Pentagram City waited sixty floors below, V Tower being the tallest building around. The roof and top few floors were newly rebuilt, complete with a penthouse beneath Velvette’s feet and a rooftop designed for entertaining.

Alastor sat tied to a chair, surrounded by a platform that overlooked three sides of the tower. Velvette had wanted a pool, so she got one, along with a hot tub and a poolside bar. It was designed with Sinstagram in mind. Of course, the layout is aesthetically pleasing for one with a proclivity for photos and videos. It also created a great place to stage a kidnapping with numerous installed cameras - courtesy of Voxtek Technologies - that captured every angle.

The brat demon was rearing to go the moment she hit send on the video, including a live link to watch the battle about to go down, but what she didn’t expect was for you to take so damn long!

The demon groaned in his chair.

“Oh, shut it,” Velvette rolled her eyes. Cell phone in hand, the brat had stationed herself in a lounge chair, attempting to appear nonchalant while she waited. At about three minutes passed she double-checked that she actually posted the video. At about five, she was growing impatient. At ten, she could no longer sit still and took to pacing in her new boots - her outfit was meticulously designed for this fight because, of course, it was. At fifteen, she became angry. At about twenty, she was royally pissed off.

“How dare I be made to wait!!” She turned to Alastor, beaten and bruised - the demon hung his head, slipping back and forth from consciousness. “You were supposed to be fuckin' valuable! You…!”

“Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected! Angel Detected!” Velvette’s notification screen lit up with alerts.

Voxtek’s Angelic security was now online, and its perimeter expanded out five blocks from V Tower - it was two, but after you attacked, they decided they needed a bit more warning time from incoming threats.

Quickly, Velvette typed out a text before finding her place before Alastor. The Overlord was ready.

In a cloud of black smoke, you came flying down from above, landing in an explosion of shadow. The smoke curled away from your feet, invading the freshly placed tile of the rooftop. It lopped over the edges, across the pool, even going as far as Velvette’s feet before dissipating.

The female Vee took a step back, out of reach of your dark magic. Clutching the knife, she pointed it in your direction, “About fuckin’ time! Do you know how long I have been waiting here!?”

You didn’t respond.

“Well!?”

You didn’t move, continuing to stare down the Overlord with your glowing yellow eyes.

Velvette stomped her foot, “You have nothing to say!?”

More silence.

The demon stomped forward, her arms balled into fists at her sides. With tears in her eyes, she screamed, “You murdered my best friend and destroyed my home for no fuckin' reason, and you have nothing to say to me!?”

Silence as the tension was building. Vox’s cameras zoomed in on you as if waiting for an answer. After a long moment, you held your hand up and…

… started violently coughing?

You bent over at the waist, your hands on your knees as you coughed as hard as you could.

“Holy shit. I’m… I’m… So sorry.” A voice choked out,, little puffs of black smoke escaped the hood as they talked. “I was holding my breath for as long as I could, but the smoke was… too much!”

Velvette took a step back, thoroughly confused- that was not the voice she remembered you having. She grabbed her phone and scanned you using the Soul Scanner app Vox downloaded onto it.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” the lady’s voice read out.

“What!?” She shrieked, taking a step back. The demon flipped to another app and pushed a button.

There was a shriek from behind her.

Velvette spun to find you collapsed on the ground, nearly out of reach of Alastor’s chair. In your leather gear, your silver hair braided back into a twist that reached halfway down your back, the watch Vox had given you morphed. The metal bit into the flesh of your wrist, hooks preventing it from being removed. The metal contraption had delivered an electric shock so powerful, it dropped you where you stood.

Velvette’s gaze shot between you and Lucifer, who had since thrown his hood back so he could breathe.

“Oh, sorry…” Lucifer cringed, eyes red from the smoke.

____________________________________________

(20 minutes earlier)

You resisted the urge to smack your face. “Okay, let’s try this one more time. Fire.” You summoned your flame.

“Fire.” Lucifer did the same.

“Smother.” You clapped your hands together, the flames extinguishing, allowing smoke to pool from between your fingers.

“Smother.” Lucifer did the same, but instead of a wave of smoke, the King produced merely a trickle. “Hey, I got it!” The Angel beamed, jumping up and down like a proud child.

It had only taken like fifty fucking tries but sure… He did it.

“Okay,” you huffed. “Now, do that while you're flying and while you’re standing there. I usually always have a little bit milling about for aesthetic purposes, so if you don’t do it, it'll be weird.”

“Right, and no talking?” He frowned a little.

“No talking.”

“But I have such good comebacks prepared,” the King pouted.

“No.” You handed him your cloak. “Keep the hood up; she doesn’t know it’s you, so she won’t be able to see under the cloak at any point in time.”

Lucifer threw the black fabric around his neck, tying the strings together. “You don’t ever suffocate in this?”

You looked at him dumb. “Smoke is heavy. It naturally wants to flow down and away. Let it do its thing, and you’ll be fine.”

The King pulled the hood up, “And no talking?” He prodded again.

“The second you open your mouth, Velvette will know it’s not me. Just stay quiet till I can get to Alastor, okay?”

“Fine!” The King whined.

God, you did not miss his childlike attitude. Okay, moving on, “Angel, what ya’ got for me?”

____________________________________________

(Now)

Move!

You forced yourself to your feet, scrambling for Alastor. While Lucifer distracted Velvette, you were to sneak in from the other direction and attempt to untie Alastor before she noticed. You tried, before you left the safety of your hiding place, to use the connection you fostered with Alastor to somehow send him some of your energy - if that's even how this connection worked. The demon tried something similar with you the day you couldn't eat anything. He came scrambling home and used his magic to calm the bubbles in your chest and infuse your blood with life. It worked then, but it wasn't working now.

Alastor remained slumped forward in the chair, his face unreadable as you tried to reach out. You released a tentacle of magic from your core, but when it slithered over to the Radio Demon, it couldn't feel him. He was still breathing, still moving, but his magic felt absent.

Which terrified you.

If you could just get to him, maybe you could forcefully push some of your magic into him. Actually, you didn’t even need to get that far, you just needed to reach Rolf, you just needed to reach his shadow.

Mere steps from Alastor, Velvette hit the button on her phone, sending a wave of electricity rocking through your body. You dropped like a stone, hitting the tile with a smack, your cheek cracking open on impact.

The female Vee spun, preparing to take on Lucifer, but the Angel had fled, leaving your black cloak in a pile on the ground where he once stood. You were on your own.

“There you are!” She cackled. The female Vee kneeled beside you, your body refusing to move as the electricity slowly ran its course.

Goddammit, the wound on your torso burned.

“Awww,” She pouted. “Little Thestral finally came out to play.”

Fuck.

“What? Didn’t think we’d figure it out? Ha!” She cackled. “Remember this?” The demon scanned your face with her camera.

The woman’s voice rang out, “Unknown.”

A memory surfaced of you and the remaining Vees battling it out at the base of V Tower. Vox scanned you during the fight, just as he had during your date. Both times, the woman called you “Unknown.”

Vox and Velvette have known it was you for weeks. Vox knew it was you today when he came to visit the Hotel and even when he was getting updates from Charlie. That’s why he wasn’t mad about you disappearing. That’s why he approached you again. He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking you to get the watch on your wrist.

The Vees knew and were probably stalking you for weeks. Hence why they’ve been so quiet. They’ve been lying in wait, watching, waiting to see where your weaknesses lie.

And they found it: Alastor.

You knew the Radio Demon wasn’t sloppy. He didn’t make mistakes, and he didn’t miss any of the bystanders who saw the fight go down that day. What he wasn’t expecting - what neither of you was expecting - was Velvette and Vox being smart.

“Fuck you,” you gritted, your jaw stiff and tongue heavy. You spat, temporarily blinding Velvette with spit, and then punched her right in the nose. The demon fell back, blood spraying from her face, as you clumsily attempted to go for Alastor once more.

If you could just touch him…

“AH!” You jumped as another wave of electricity ran up your arm. Your body went stiff as you collapsed and landed THROUGH Alastor.

And then the demon DISAPPEARED.

“Ha, ha!” Velvette cackled, her finger still on the button as you convulsed at her feet. Fuck, your jaw clenched so tightly that a molar cracked. Your eyes threatened to roll back into your head before Velvette finally let you go.

What the fuck was going on?

“Did you like that? My idea, actually.” She clicked a button, and the image of Alastor reappeared next to you.

The demon was in the same position - his head slumped forward, his hair covering his face. He barely moved save for a moan here and there and the occasional rise of his chest to show he was breathing.

“You can’t capture Alastor’s image. He’s made that bloody impossible. So why not re-create him?”

You noticed the twitch in Alastor’s form then - it was a hologram. No wonder your magic didn't connect with anything. Nothing was there but light manipulated to look like Alastor.

If he wasn't here, then...

“Where is he?” You demanded, your words slurring with the effort it took to move your mouth. The last hit was harder than the one before, compounding on top of the other to create greater damage than one shock could do alone.

Velvette checked her phone screen, “Dead.”

You didn’t even humor her with a fake laugh or a dumb look. “Don’t give me the bullshit, Velvette. Where is he?” Life came back to your fingers, their movement stiff and constrained. You forced them to move, hoping it would speed up the process somehow.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Velvette stood.

“Aww, do you really think I’m pretty?” You gritted.

Velvette considered the thought. “Well, the black dress didn't make me want to barf..."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks..."

Spinning, Velvette called out, “Crim!"

Wait, Crim?

No one answered.

Velvette looked confused. “Crim!” She called out again, but nothing happened.

“Where the fuck did he…”

“Change of plans. Sweetheart,” Angel appeared at the edge of the landing above you, a giant piece of metal in hand. It kind of looked like a futuristic looking… bazooka? The spider demon kicked a tied and gagged Crim to the edge of the railing.

Hell, yes.

Velvette jumped back, putting ample space between you. You took the opportunity to force life into your body, attempting to push yourself into a seated position.

“The bad boys are tied up,” Nifty poked her head out from behind the bar, dragging a shark demon out into the open by his fin.

“Sorry!” Charlie and Vaggie appeared from behind the hot tub. Characteristically, the Princess apologized as a shark demon fell over, smacking his face against the tile.

DING! Husk and Pentious appeared in the elevator, kicking three sharks to their knees, guns aimed at the back of their heads - Carmilla Carmine weapons.

____________________________________________

(15 minutes ago)

“Angel, what ya’ got for me?” You trudged over to the spider demon, who had a hodgepodge of handwritten notes before him.

“Confirmed with Odette, Velvette ain’t just using Crim as a third party to buy the weapons, she hired ‘em, like you suspected.” Angel ran his hands over his notes as he talked. “But get this, she ain’t just buying guns, she’s goin’ afta big stuff.”

Angel handed you a paper. “An electric bazooka?” You scrunched your nose in confusion.

Carmilla never told you about anything like this.

“Vox apparently hired some of their engineers, been workin' on it for a while.” Angel crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar. "We’re walkin' into a trap."

“So, we just bluff,” Husk appeared behind the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“What?” You ask, grabbing the whiskey in his hand and trading it for water.

Husk stares you down but ultimately accepts the change without a fight. “Bluff, like in Poker,” He takes a swig. “Play like you got a good hand, even when you got a shit one. Make the other person fold before you lose and take the pot. It’s basic card skills.”

“Huh,” you thought, “that actually might work.”

“Hmm,” Angel pondered. “Ambush the ambush. Sounds kinda hot!”

Husk rolled his eyes.

“Lucifer!” You yelled. The King jumped, clearly in deep conversation with Vaggie. “I have another idea.”

____________________________________________

(Now)

“Fuck yeah!” Lucifer flew over the edge of the building and dropped a pile of gang members onto the tile roof. “You just got fucked!”

“Dad!” Charlie groaned. “It’s ‘fucked up.”

“Oh…” He cringed.

Velvette’s team was surrounded.

You knew it was only a matter of time before Velvette figured out it wasn’t you beneath the cloak. So, if you somehow got caught while Lucifer was distracting Velvette, he was to sneak away and help Husk fly the rest of the team to the top few floors. Quietly and quickly, they’d take out the Crimson Mafia gang - thus ambushing the ambushers. All while you made it seem like Velvette had you right where she wanted you.

Ignoring the pain in your torso, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your newly healed muscles screamed.

“It was over before it even started, Velvette. Now, where’s Alastor?” You demanded.

“No!” She screamed. “It isn’t over.” She swiped something on her phone. “I had wanted to take my time killing you, but this will have to do.”

Fuck, she was going to electrocute you to death.

“No!” Charlie screamed.

BOOM!

In a panic, Angel did what anyone in his position would have done: he aimed the cannon and fired. A ball of electricity, larger than yourself, erupted from the barrel and was headed straight for Velvette.

BEEP! BUZZ! BEEP! BUZZ!

The watch around your wrist vibrated. And, because Vox had accounted for this, the projectile changed direction and headed straight for you. You had moments to dodge before it exploded beneath your feet, flinging you backward into the bar. Bottles of alcohol exploded, glass dug into your skin, and wood splintered around you as you smashed through the structure and went rolling toward the edge of the building.

The rooftop plunged into chaos as the Crimson mafia gang took the opportunity to fight back. The world was a blur as you came to a stop, your mind spinning, your body stiff and immovable as your muscles convulsed. You must have bit your tongue because your mouth tasted of iron.

“Ah!” Velvette screamed. The demon jumped atop you as the sound of bullets filled the air. “Fuckin’ bitch!” She pulled out the knife, preparing to slash your throat.

But Nifty was faster. The small demon jumped atop Velvette’s hair and pulled. “Bad girl!” She screamed.

The demon fell off you as the two of them tossled.

Move! You need to move! You flooded your veins with magic but the fire did not burn life back into your body.

Fuck.

Think. Think. Think! If not fire, then… Wait!

"…shut down the whole grid!" Angel's words echoed in your mind. "All of Pentagram City was plunged into fuckin' darkness!"

If this technology was partially developed by Vox, maybe it had some similarities to his magic system?

An idea popped into your head. One that smelled of rain after a storm. One that felt humid like the deep bayou under a sky of stars. One that tasted of jambalaya and sounded of dirty jazz in a busy dance club…

Digging down deep, you grabbed that connection and pulled. Green static erupted over your skin, loosening your muscles and lessening the convulsions overtaking your body.

It was working!

You pulled harder, allowing the magic to explode from within you. The static breathed new life into your body, even going as far as stitching your healing muscles into strong fiber throughout your torso. You soon found yourself able to move, your body in even better health than before Velvette gutted you weeks ago. Moving onto your hands and knees, you sucked down a mouthful of air, your body finally your own again.

Jesus H. Christ, do not get hit by another one of those!

Nifty managed to get ahold of Velvette’s phone and tossed it over the side.

“No!” The demon crawled to the edge, screaming in vain as the cell phone plunged to the streets below.

You grabbed the Overlord by the collar of her shirt and lugged her to her feet. Your yellow eyes shined as the green magic enveloped your form. You could see the confusion in Velvette’s eyes, confusion at the control you now had over the magic which didn’t belong to you.

“Tell me or the next thing that drops sixty stories is you,” you could feel the power boiling, Alastor’s magic festering.

His magic was angry and so were you.

“You wouldn’t dare, bitch,” Velvette dug her nails into your forearm, her nails piercing your skin where the leather was thinnest.

“Try me,” the magic surged, pulsed as if fueled by the anger.

At the other end of the line you felt something push back, like a surge of magic calling out to you. While Velvette considered her options, you pushed back and felt something similar to a door open.

A heart beat. A breath. It was Alastor calling out to you in the same way you had tried to do before you left the Hotel for V Tower.

He was alive and he was angry. You might not know where he was, but he felt okay physically. Just extremely pissed off.

Good.

The static boiled, growing in power as a green aura emanated from you. You felt the shadows beneath your feet move, swirling about your ankles in anticipation of the murder you were about to commit.

“Velvette,” you garnered her attention, your voice almost sounding static-y, “last chance,” you swung her body over the edge, her feet dangling off the roof.

The fight behind her eyes shifted, “No.” she smiled.

CLICK!

You didn’t have to turn around to know the barrel end of a gun was pressed to the back of your head. You didn’t have to look to know it was Crim who wielded it.

“Put the boss lady down, gently,” the Mafia Boss commanded.

The static sizzled across your skin as you felt your demon form break through. Horns grew from your head, a sharp tail uncurled from your backside, and the sclera of your eyes turned red.

The fangs in your mouth sharpened as you smiled. You had a better idea.

You tackled Velvette around the middle and jumped.

You summoned your wings as you fell, but unlike the last time you found yourself falling from this building, you didn’t aim for the cement. Instead, you pulled up at the last second - much to Velvette’s terror - and threw the Overlord onto the ground. Not enough to break anything, but enough to rough her up a bit.

You needed Velvette alive and put together long enough to give you the information you needed - for now.

Spinning, you prepared to ascend the Tower to solve your little Crim problem when two large booms echoed throughout the streets.

Someone had fired two shots, honed in for your bracelet. If you were a gambling Angel you’d put your money on Crim.

Velvette cackled as you took flight, aiming for Heaven’s Clocktower. You watched the two balls of electricity bank as you turned, following you in circles about the plaza.

Shit, these things could maneuver… but how well?

You got an idea.

The Entertainment District had the largest buildings in town and as such you often found yourself flying through what felt like a maze night after night. It was the perfect place to lose the two missiles on your tail.

The first one was easy to lose. Heading from the Clocktower, you aimed for the first large building you came across. Banking hard right, you cut the turn so sharp your wing brushed the glass of the building. Taking a complete 180• turn, you headed right back for the Clocktower as the first ball exploded into the side of the glass building.

Shards rained down like acid behind you, showering the streets below.

The second one wasn’t so easily deterred, almost as if it had learned from the first. It didn’t sit as closely on your tail, and thus had more time to maneuver as you took the turns.

Soon it became obvious, the thing wasn’t going to quit. Fuck. You were hyperventilating, your face drenched in sweat, your wings cramping with the effort. You hadn’t flown in battle in what…? Since before the Age of Man? Your skit with the Leviathans maybe… at least your torso was holding up. Whatever Alastor’s static had done, it healed you, leaving behind nothing but a scar.

Fuck, what to do what to do!?

You craned your neck over your wing to catch a glimpse of the ball of blue electricity and that’s when you noticed the trail of green static following you across the sky. The sparks danced over your feathers and dissipated as they fell, like the trail on a shooting star. It was beautiful.

Alastor’s magic: the one person Vox’s electricity couldn’t take down.

Shit. Okay. Flight wasn’t working, so maybe it was time for fight.

You dug across the connection, throwing open the door to find an entire well of magic you didn’t know was there. Yet this magic was warm - familiar. It tasted of rye in your mouth, wrapped you in a cocoon of protection like a small babe… You took hold of this magic and used it to fuel the static drifting off your wings.

You had one shot at this, better make it count.

You soared skyward, till you were higher than V Tower. Then you fell. You spun so the ball of electricity was in front of you, your back to Pentagram City below. Grabbing hold of Alastor’s magic, you created a ball of magic of your own, composed entirely of Alastor’s static.

Then you threw it forward. It collided with the ball of blue energy and exploded in the sky, raining down blue and green sparks across Pentagram City below.

“Yes!” You cheered, safely making your way to the ground. You landed on the edge of Cannibal Town and the Entertainment District.

“Holy shit, that actually worked!” You laughed in disbelief. “Now for this piece of shit.” You concentrated the magic in your wrist and fried the watch. “Fuck you, Vox!” You ripped the watch off, gritting in pain as the hooks sliced through your skin.

The metal fell to the ground with a thud. Alastor’s static concentrated on your wrist, the green dancing across your wound. You watched the skin restitch itself and settle into a set of fresh scars.

Was this Alastor’s doing or some sort of acceleration of your blood’s natural healing abilities? Did Alastor’s magic amplify it somehow?

So many questions… Hopefully Alastor had answers because you didn’t even know where to begin. Sharing his magic…? What did that mean?

“Oh - !” There was a tug behind your navel so strong it knocked you back a step.

What the fuck was that?

Another tug, this one even stronger. You braced yourself as orange and mint flooded your nostrils.

The third tug knocked you onto your ass, but it was the feeling the card gave you that finally helped you to understand - Alastor was using his obsidian calling card to summon you and he had used his own blood.

Which meant two things: 1. Alastor was desperate and 2. You knew where to find him.

Without so much a second thought you took off heading for the Entertainment District.

You landed at the base of V Tower the same moment a blur of black and blue went whizzing past you. Briefly, you registered the flying blurb as Vox - no, wait, he wasn’t flying. Vox had been thrown.

The media demon slammed into a bloodied Velvette, the two of them flying across the cement before coming to a stop in a pile of blood, broken bones, and wire.

Before you had a chance to register what was happening, a portal opened up about twenty feet away from you. The Hotel team came flooding out, weapons raised, prepared for a fight, but paused at the sight behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Alastor?” You breathed, your entire body going rigid as you turned and…

A body slammed into you, warm and familiar. Alastor threaded his fingers through your hair, the other coming to rest at your back as he pulled you into him. His lips came crashing down on yours before you got a proper look at the demon.

It took your mind a moment to register that Alastor was kissing you, a moment before you were up on your toes, your arms around his neck, your body melting into him.

God, he tasted like blood and rye. His scent woeing you in a sea of iron and rain. Alastor was a wall of steel, holding you so fiercely - as if you might disappear in his arms.

The shadows about his feet danced - Rolf was okay too.

The demon came up for air, but he didn’t back away. Alastor kept his forehead on yours, his grip tightening around you, as he spoke, “Mon couer.”

My heart.

He didn’t have to say anything more. You understood. You were a perfect mirror image to the things he had been feeling and to the relief you both now expressed.

He was okay. Alastor was okay.

“What happened?” Was all you could manage to say before your voice broke and the ugly tears fell. “I thought they had you. I thought…”

“Shhhh,” Alastor shushed, using his thumb to wipe away the water from your cheek. “I know.”

“Velvette was going to…”

“I understand,” he kissed your forehead.

“I didn’t know what else to do...” You choked. You grabbed onto the lapels of his now destroyed jacket. “Please, Alastor… Don’t leave me.”

The demon smiled softly, your face in his hands, “Never again.”

He embraced you, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you.

Charlie approached you slowly, hesitant to ruin the moment but also so, so worried. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“Perfectly fine, Princess. Seems Vox found it pertinent to occupy my time in the Doomsday District.”

A memory flashed in your mind…

“Well hello there little pet, where’s your master?”

“Like Hell I would tell you anything!”

“So he’s still making chaos in the Doomsday District then? That answers that question…”

Fucking Vox.

“Is she okay?” Charlie asked. You could hear the emotion in her voice.

The demon smiled into your hair.

Then, Alastor did something that would shock you for years to come, he opened an arm and invited her in. The Princess wrapped her arms around the two of you and soon, so did the rest of the Hotel Natives - minus Lucifer. The King had been standing there dumbfounded the moment Alastor kissed you.

Wow, he really did not like him.

“This isn’t over!” Vox yelled. He was bloodied and bruised, as was Velvette who was helping him limp over to your little cuddle fest.

Alastor had some fun while you were fighting the electricity across Pentagram City.

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed. The group disbanded, taking a step behind you and the Overlord. “That is where you are wrong, old pal.”

The Radio Demon persona slammed back into place. He summoned his cane and twirled, before resting his hands atop it. Although he was in complete disarray, there was still an elegance which he held that Vox did not.

You made a mental note of the lack of shark demons coming to the Overlords’ rescue. Crim probably realized they were losing and hightailed it out of there. No worries, you’d pay the imp a visit later…

“Kill them?” You asked Alastor.

Alastor’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Oh, no! No, death is too good for them. The punishment is far more fun if they have to live with their humiliation.” The demon smiled, his lips curling at the edge.

“So then,” You looked to Alastor for permission. You wanted to show off for him, if he’d let you. “Unplug him?”

The demon tipped his head back and laughed, “After you, mon couer.”

You took a step forward and summoned Alastor’s magic. Green waves of static licked your form as you dug deep into that well.

“Hey, Vox,” you smiled.

The demon stopped, his eyes bouncing from yours to Alastor’s. The demon’s screen glitched. “You're dating him now!?”

You rolled your eyes, “Vox, we never dated. We went on one date and it was horrible.”

Another glitch. “What!?”

“Are you two seriously going to talk about this now?” Velvette groaned.

“I was miserable. You’re a lousy date.” He was buffering, his screen going staticy as you felt Alastor’s magic reacting to Vox’s weaknesses.

“And, you’re a terrible kisser,” you smiled.

Vox shoved off Velvette and took a few wobbly steps forward. You were pretty sure his ankle was broken. “Now listen here, you little…”

“Uh-ah-ah!” You tutted. “I wasn’t done.” You closed the gap, and leaned in to whisper something in Vox’s ear.

The media demon exploded, his screen shifting from lost signal to his face to static to random colors. He fell backward into Velvette, who barely managed to catch him.

The cameras around you exploded, light bulbs popped, and storefront windows cracked.

And soon, the entirety of Pentagram City was plunged into darkness.

“Rolf,” you summoned the shadow. “Will you please take out the trash?”

The shadow smiled at you, his horns curling, before he whisked Velvette and a short-circuiting Vox off into the night.

And it was finally over.

Alastor came up behind you and ran his hand through the static - it tickled, actually. The demon was absolutely mesmerized. “You are beautiful in red, mon couer,” He cupped your chin, his thumb running across your lower lip. “But green suits you far better than I could have ever imagined.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I told him…”

Alastor used his thumb to stop your lips, his eyes darkening. “I know what you said.”

Rolf swirled at your feet. The little snoop was eavesdropping.

Your face turned red. “Vox got a little close on our date. Not my fault that I could feel everything.”

Vox was all over you when he kissed you… It wasn’t for very long, but it was enough to know…

“Is it true?” Alastor’s eyes couldn’t leave your lips, his mind transfixed on their shape, their feel, the way they moved when you talked.

Ha! There’s the narcissist in him.

“Yes, Alastor,” you smirked. “You are much bigger.”

The static pulsed, reacting to the delight spreading across Alastor’s face, but you forced it down, forced the magic back behind its door. Now was not the time nor the place to get carried away. Especially considering you practically leveled a building the last time you and Alastor... got into it.

Actually, now was time for something else - a conversation you were dreading.

“Alastor,” you collected his hand in yours, “I need… I want to tell you everything.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, shall we?” Alastor smiled, holding out his elbow for you to take.

The demon wasn’t done with your previous conversation. “I want to hear more about what you think of me.” He smirked, his grin lopsided. That look always meant trouble. “And perhaps discover how you look dressed only in my static.”

Jesus… Did you - via standing up to Vox using Alastor’s magic and utterly humiliating the media demon - inadvertently turn Alastor on? You sniffed. Vanilla, Alastor smelled of warm vanilla… Your face was pink before, but now it was bright red.

This was an opportunity you were not going to let slip away. You wrapped your arm in his…

“Mikaela?” Lucifer took a step forward interrupting the moment.

Your entire body went still.

“Is that you…?” He asked. Lucifer looked as if someone had murdered a puppy in front of him.

Shit.

Vaggie did a double take, “Wait. Mikaela as in Mikaela Morningstar, the Archangel?”

You looked down. Your arm. Velvette scratched your arm - she cut the rune Stolas drew onto your arm!

Slowly, you turned to face Lucifer - your brother. The Angel took a few steps forward, his confusion turning to hurt.

“Mikaela.” He frowned. There was so much sadness reflected in those eyes it made your throat swell with emotion.

“Lulu, I’m so sorry,” your voice broke.

“Wait, hold up.” Angel raised an arm. “When yous told me ya were a head honcho in Heaven, I just figured you were an Angel manager or some shit, but the General of God’s armies? That doesn’t make any sense. I thought Michael was a dude?”

“No,” Charlie stepped in, her face one of disbelief. She’s never technically met any of her father’s family and yet here you were all along. “Humans changed it.”

“Changed it?” Angel shook his head. “How do you fuckin’ change the fact that he is a she!?”

“Humans are patriarchal assholes,” Vaggie butted in, one arm wrapped around Charlie - whether to hold her back or comfort her, you didn’t know. Either way, the Ex-Exorcist was thoroughly irritated. “Can’t handle a woman being in a position of power, not to mention a warrior - the fucking warrior.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Angel agreed.

“What are you doing here?” Lucifer asked. The King didn’t dare step closer. If anything, he moved in front of Charlie.

Did he think you were going to hurt her? You would never!

“Dad…” Your voice broke just by saying his name. “... sent me to Earth to take care of something. It went… wrong.”

Fuck how do you explain!?

“I couldn’t - can’t - go back.” You corrected yourself. Your eyes flit between him and Charlie. “I am not here to hurt her.” Your vision blurred with silent tears. “I would never hurt her, Lulu.”

Your brother’s face changed, his eyes hardening. He stood at his full height, an arm held out to prevent Charlie from stepping forward or say anything.

“You can smell deceit.” You both could - family trait. “You know I’m not lying.”

Lucifer swallowed dryly, but he didn’t say anything. His gaze fell to his feet, the gears behind his eyes turning. He was deciding what to do about you.

“I had nowhere else to go.” You continued.

“Dad?” Charlie tested the waters.

“Don’t, Charlie,” He snapped. “Just don’t.” The Angel, unsure of how exactly to react, how to think, or how to feel about you, turned and started walking away.

Your heart broke at the sight of him walking down the street alone, abandoning you, just as you abandoned him. You took a step forward to go after him, but Charlie beat you to it.

“Dad!” She called out as she ran after him. The two of them disappeared around the corner, heading for the Hotel.

You looked to the group, but their eyes were on Alastor as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “If you’ll excuse us. I believe Mikaela and I have some catching up to do.”

Fuck.

Husk shot you a look, his eyes asking if he should say something, if he should step in - ever the protective father figure that he was. You shook your head and let Rolf shadow you away.

____________________________________________

“Are you okay?” The demon asked as you appeared in the Nothing. Pentagram City was a dot in the distance, a glowing presence on the edge of a sea of black dirt.

You wrapped your arms around your middle, attempting to metaphorically and physically keep yourself together.

Fuck, you didn’t care about how you were doing. You cared about how Lucifer was doing. The way he just walked away like that… He turned his back on you just as you did him. God, how could you live with yourself?

“Sit,” Alastor commanded, his voice oddly absent of static. He summoned a chair from the Void and forced you into it, pushing down on your shoulders.

You were numb - that was the best way to explain it. Your body and feelings were numb.

Alastor knelt before you, one hand on your knee as he attempted to catch your eye. You couldn’t help but draw a parallel to the memory you shared on the balcony after you were injured. He attempted to comfort you then just as he was now, but the difference was he held so many questions in his gaze.

No more running.

“It’s a long story,” you scoffed, still in disbelief.

Alastor’s face remained neutral, his emotions unreadable. “I have all the time in the world.”

Surprise! You get two chapters today! Go! Go! Go!

-> Link to Chapter Thirteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto

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crystal-moon-101 · 5 months ago

Text

For those who don't know, I made a Hazbin Hotel animatic! It's about Adam and Eve, or at least my take on them with the song First Burn. Please check it out if you want to learn more about my take on Eve, along with reading the Youtube Video's description where I wrote an outline of their story.

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk2OXFr7mKs

I also wanna put some notes here to expand on Eve, and my own Hazbin Lore/theories/ideas. So enjoy!

Notes:

Adam and Eve had four children. Their eldest twins, Cain and Abel, followed by their daughter Aclima, and then their youngest son, Seth. Given Cain killed his brother, he was their only child to go to hell, while the other three followed their father into heaven. Cain and Eve have mended their relationship, and he actively helps to take care of her and is protective of his mother. Still hates his father though. Abel is the only child that still actively talked to Adam fairly often, being a kind spirit who doesn't want to abandon his dad. Aclima used to be a daddy's girl, until seeing the things her father did after helping in the creation of the Extermination and cheating on Eve, and now has gone no contact with Adam. Seth is low contact with Adam, and spends most of his time with his sister.

Abel was the first to die in the family, followed by Adam, then Cain, then Eve, then Aclima and then Seth. All their deaths were untimely.

Eve doesn't really like her wings all too much, often keeping them wrapped around her body. When she gets emotional, they often react because of it. Most of her powers do, and very few have seen her true demonic form. Those being Lucifer, Lilith, Cain and Charlie once when she was little. It seems something in that apple never left her after taking a bite out of it.

Eve has indeed slept with Lucifer. After breaking up with Adam she realized she hasn't had any other relationships outside of him, and wanted to experiment. She has also slept with at least two other members of the seven deadly sins, but she won't state who.

Eve was originally hostile towards Lucifer and Lilith when they first found in her hell, even as they helped her. No one could blame her though, as they did screw her over with the apple. As time went on though, they've come to have more peaceful terms with each other. Eve will never forgive them for what happened in Eden, but Lucifer and Lilith understand that, and they are all at least friends.

Charlie considers Eve to be her aunt, as Eve helped the royal couple out a lot due to her experiences having kids, being the best babysitter Charlie ever had. Even if it pained Eve to watch Charlie grow, reminding her of her own babies she hasn't seen in years.

Adam doesn't like talking about his wife after their break up, often shutting down if someone brings her up and changing the topic quickly. During weaker moments for him though he has talked about her, mostly to people like Sera, Lute or Emily. Eve threw her ring into deep storage, while Adam keeps his in his pockets.

Eve is a grandmother at least, her son Cain having married a lovely imp woman and becoming a stepfather, along with adopting a few other hellborn children here and there. They all love grandma Eve.

Lute has met Eve once, and never wants to be alone with that woman ever again.

Eve is a little into arson now.

After Adam and Eve bit the apple, they were both granted knowledge, but they used it in different ways. Eve was the more classic smart knowledge, being quite educational. Adam on the other hand was the more art knowledge of the two, delving into painting, writing and music playing, all of which he originally used to gift Eve with romantic gestures.

Eve is aware of the hotel, as Charlie likes catching up with her whenever she can. Charlie has thought about inviting Eve a few times, but Lucifer warns her not to. He suggests they wait for a better time, given the sensitive subject behind what the hotel is.

In the early days of living in hell, Eve was a guest within Lilith and Lucifer's house. They eventually got her a manor to live in, one that lives a little away from most of the cities to give her alone time from the world. After her break up with Adam, she started isolating herself even more, rarely leaving it, and only accepting close friends and family to visit her.

A part of Adam fears that one day Sera and the other angels will go after Eve, having heard rumors and whispers from them for a long time. A few believing that killing Eve might remove all evil and return the world to what it was suppose to be like. Even though Eve dumped him, Adam can't bare the thought of her being killed again, and does everything he can to keep the angels away from her.

Eve has a pet duck creature, gifted to her by Lucifer. She calls him Goldie.

She is aware of Adam's death at the hotel battle, having seen it on the news. She hasn't stated anything on the matter, being quiet about the whole thing, and no one has the strength to ask her about it. Even if she is mad at Adam, she still loves him.

Eve might know something about what happened to Lilith, but she is well trained in keeping her mouth shut for many years.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Eve #Hazbin Hotel Adam #Hazbin Hotel Fanart #Character Design #Eve #My Art

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arachniee · 1 year ago

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i. medical haywire

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ various! hazbin hotel x female seraphim! reader

જ⁀➴

summary: as the seraphim responsible for the management of heaven's medical areas, your days are mostly spent in the comfort of labs and clinics. though, those mudane days seem to shift into more interesting ones after meeting the princess of hell and her little group.

જ⁀➴

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, too much caffeine intake, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, all lowercase letters

જ⁀➴

heaven was as bright and bustling as ever, regardless of the time of day. whether it'd be the sun shining, or the moon. every corner of the city was filled with fun and joy, not a single hint of negativity. heaven was paradise, after all. a paradise that everyone wanted to get a taste of. it was the embodiment of dreams, everyone would agree. this was place that granted them a life that was worth living, even in the afterlife.

however, you wouldn't say that this was your dream. in the presence of the night, you remained unfazed as you continued with your work. eerie silence seeping into the laboratory room you were currently in, despite being all alone, this somehow bought you comfort instead of uneasiness. being surrounded by laboratory equipment and machinery, your attention shifted from the blood sample in your hands to the medical files on the metal table near you. it wasn't just any pile, almost every corner of that table was filled with piles and piles of folders almost the size of mountains.

after you received the report of an extermination angel's murder, you haven't slept in days. an angel was behead, that kept you up at night. each time you thought about it, your curiousity and thirst for knowledge were eating you up from the inside and out. you wanted to dwell deeper into the topic, but you still had medical areas to run. and with the recent news that you received about the extermination, you wanted nothing more than to just drown yourself in your own misery. every six months, really?

extermination angels return with more wounds than what others would expect. and with thousands of them returning with injuries that range from scratches to more notable wounds, the extermination is something you do not look forward to dealing with. you are definitely not surprised, these sadistic fuckers are too overconfident in their own actions, lacking in armor and more driven to attack, and because of that, you're the one who has to suffer with treating them.

and now that those demons know what they can do to angels, you're expecting more bloodshed during extermination. and that means more work. and not mention that the extermination angels should be in the best condition possible to participate, thus, you have to monitor all of them regularly. and with your more 'common' patients, the residents of the city, you haven't seen and felt daylight nor the moonlight in who knows how long now. you haven't even slept yet, only taking naps here and there that only last around half an hour or so.

as you checked your watch, you noted that the project you were currently working on would have to be continued in the next few hours instead. you followed quite a strict and busy schedule, which is not surprising for one of the highest of seraphims. you tidied up the lab a bit, rummaging through the almost endless amount of files and folders, grabbing a few before your eyes fell onto a folder that had a letter "v" in the middle. you momentarily paused your actions, frozen in place as you stared at it. you eventually pushed it aside and grabbed the files under it before you stood and made your way out, turning off the lights and locking the door.

the halls were dimly lit, casting an unsettling sense of uneasiness. though, you walked through them without a care in the world, this was heaven after all, no one would harm you here. each door you passed was dark and disturbing, expected as it was almost two o'clock in the morning. your steps echoed down the empty halls as you walked to the laboratory's cafeteria. your last caffeine intake was almost an hour ago, you need to grab another mug before you collapsed with more work piled up on your desk the next morning.

unsurprisingly, the lights were still on in the cafeteria since the cooks would usually prepare the food early in the morning. you had to commend them for their dedication though. as you entered the kitchen area, you were greeted warmly by the workers, you nodded at them in acknowledgement, greeting them as well, though with a little less energy. they understood why, and they were grateful for your dedication to your job as well. it must be hard to keep everyone in check, managing a lot of stuff all at once. before you could reach one of the coffee makers, one of the newer staff members extended a mug of steaming, hot coffee into your reach with smile. you looked at them with raised eyebrows and tired eyes, the young angel just wanted to express his admiration, and maybe this was the way that he thought you would appreciate the most at the moment. maybe he was right, so you gently took the mug from his hands, careful not to spill any onto him.

he visibly beamed at you when you expressed your gratitude by muttering a small 'thank you', hoping that he, even in the slightest way possible, was able to help your mood and tiredness. you stayed in the cafeteria for a few more minutes before you had to go back to work. the young angel's mood dampened a little bit, but he understood and bid you goodluck with a smile. after that unintentional break you had, you walked to your office, a little more energetic now, was it because of the caffeine or the interaction you had with the young man? you're not sure. he reminded you of an old friend you had, but you shook those thoughts away as your office finally came in sight.

you were slightly surprised to see someone standing at your door, their knuckles knocking onto the door. you were always told you had such light, unaudible steps, now you realized how right they were. if you hadn't spoke, this person wouldn't have heard your arrival. even in the dark hallways, you were able to make out the person's appearance, and you didn't quite expect to see her here, especially at this hour.

"emily?"

you stated, your voice was somewhat husky, you figured it was because you hadn't interacted and spoke to someone in who knows how many days due to your work. the young seraphim slightly jumped at your voice, not expecting you to appear right beside her in the dark. she let out a nervous laugh, she was jittery, you could tell with how she played with her fingers and avoided eye contact. and when she finally spoke, you knew your hunch was correct.

"h-hey! no wonder no one was answering me, i thought you fell asleep in your office again!"

her smile was strained, it was quite obvious. you didn't question her as you gestured for her to enter your office with you. you placed the files you were carrying on the table, taking another sip of the coffee in your other hand as you nodded your head to one of the chairs, emily understood and with unsure movements, she sat down on the chair in front of your table. the atmosphere was tense, you could tell. she couldn't seem to stay still in her seat, eyes darting all around the room. the silence was deafening, though you wanted to break it yourself, you didn't want to overstep boundaries and ask her directly about why she was acting so... troubled. and it didn't take long before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"i heard there's going to be a meeting with the princess of hell."

her voice was quiet, but to you, it was loud and clear. you knew about the meeting, of course. sera and the others have informed you about this meeting a few days ago. you were one of the most important figures of heaven, so your presence there was mandatory. and you weren't surprised that emily knew about this meeting, as she herself was also a seraphim. though you wondered why she spoke of the meeting in such a tone. you expected her to be happy, especially since you knew of her curiousity about hell and the demons who reside in it. as you stared at the file in your hands, you gave a brief glance to her as an acknowledgement to continue. she hesitated for a few seconds before she eventually spoke again.

"sera didn't tell me. no one did. if i hadn't passed by and accidently heard them talk about it, i wouldn't have known."

at her words, you finally lifted your gaze. she wore a sad expression, her eyebrows low and down as her lips were. she seemed visibly upset. yeah, maybe sera was going to tell her and was about to do so, but the meeting is in two days. usually, sera would speak to her about the meetings at least a week before they were held. and when she found out that the meeting is on the day after tomorrow, she had her doubts that sera would tell her. maybe it was childish, but to emily, she thought that she at least had to be informed, she wanted to help her sister, in the preparation and such. but with how sera didn't tell her, nor did anyone, she figured that they may have not wanted her to attend and join, nonetheless know, about the meeting.

"she knows how much i want to know about hell, so why didn't she tell me? am i not allowed to join the meeting?"

you knew why sera didn't want her to know about it. yet you knew that you aren't the one in the place to tell emily any of those reasons. you knew the answer to both of the young seraphim's questions, but you made no move to answer them. that was not for you to tell. you didn't want her relationship with sera to be waned by whatever may happen during that meeting, and you understood why the older seraphim made an effort to ensure that emily doesn't know about it.

you didn't want to give emily any false hope, but you wanted to do what you could to make her feel better. so instead of giving her a sure answer, your eyes fell back on the file in your hand before you spoke.

"i will speak to her about it."

your reply didn't gurantee her anything, but as soon as she heard those words from you, she immediately smiled and brightened up. you and sera are very good friends, yes, but sera held onto her duties and responsibilities with an iron grip. and if one of those involved emily's safety, you knew convincing her wasn't going to be an easy task.

if it were anyone else, emily was sure that sera would just dismiss them, claiming that she was doing the right thing, but if it were you, then there's a silver of hope. she's beyond grateful that she had a friend like you, someone she could open to about all this. though, this all felt foreign to her. the feeling of not being included.

chants that vary from 'thank you's and 'you're the best's echoed in the room, emily was practically bouncing in her seat from the excitement. you were satisfied that you were able to bring up her mood, even just a little bit. the conversation continued, mostly from emily. she told you all about the events yesterday, rambling about random things. you would nod to her statements, eyes still focused on the tasks that need to be done. as soon as she started talking a little slower and quieter, you lifted your eyes to see a half-awake seraphim, blinking in and out of sleep. your initial thought was to offer her a drink of your coffee to stay awake, though as a doctor, you knew very well not to do so, that would be ridiculous with your title and knowledge in health.

you advised her to rest, letting her know that you would inform sera of her whereabouts soon. emily couldn't really make out what you were saying anymore, so she just nodded her head along with each word that escaped you. oh, how the tables have turned. you shook your head with a small smile before you stood up from your seat, making your way around the table. gently, you scooped the young seraphim up into your arms in bridal style, adjusting your hold on her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable, and after the softest of snores left her, you knew.

as you reached one of the couches in your office, you gently laid her limp, sleeping form. you didn't really have any blankets here, as you never really sleep here (and you never expected anyone else to). so you just took off the dark blazer you had on, leaving you in your white dress shirt. your clothes were no doubt expensive, the sublte but intricately made accents in your favorite color.

you turn away momentarily to glance at your watch, it was almost five in the morning. as hectic as your schedule is, you have more work in half an hour, so you had to get ready to go back in the lab. you wrote a small goodmorning note to emily after grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, leaving the neatly folded note on the coffee table in front of the couch, you may or may not have also put a few candies as well. after hearing a satisfying pop from your stretched limbs, you braced yourself for another day of war. war against tiredness and work. but now you also had to add the little promise you had made to emily, you'll have to converse with sera soon.

a knock came from the door, one of the nurses on shift informing you that adam requested to meet with you at 8 am today. you pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the in coming headache. when will you ever catch a break?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

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whatswrongwithblue · 1 year ago

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

Word count: 9,210. Read on A03. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Alastor and Mina reunite a year after he tried to claim her soul. Adorable, "young love," fluffy smut. TW: canon typical language, self image insecurity, smoking, drinking, mentions of incest and statutory rape - not involving Alastor or Mina, breeding cycles, fingering, oral - fem receiving, p in v, creampie, light biting.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

1953

Pride Ring

These parties were even worse than Alastor remembered.

Most of the Hellborn royalty worth a damn were here tonight and therefore most of Pride Ring’s most prominent Overlords were in attendance. It would be poor form if he hadn’t made an appearance, but he found the whole thing really . . . stupid.

He was a man of principle and believed in keeping one’s manners in check when appropriate but the over-the-top air of sophistication, of white collar, blue blood privilege among these Hellborn’s made Alastor’s skin crawl. It reminded him far too much of the type of people he had to associate with while working in radio as a human. He had to dress nicer, change his accent and speak with more refinement, force his hair straighter . . . hell he even spent as little time outside during the daytime to keep his slightly tanner than Caucasian skin tone as light as possible.

These days, he only made a point of showing up to these parties to see how uncomfortable he could make the Goetia Ars family before dipping out in less than an hour’s time. Some of their lower status members had been a few of his first targets when he had come into power there in Hell and he always made a point of re-airing their family members’ screams to his broadcasts for days in advance before arriving to their palaces.

There was only one reason he was still hanging around that evening and it was the woman who he had just watched make her exit out onto an empty balcony.

He hadn’t seen Mina in over a year. Not since his mishap with attempting to get her soul. He had known very quickly in their budding friendship that he genuinely enjoyed her company, but it wasn’t until he had tried to force her hand, and she had nearly died, that he realized the depth of his feelings for her. And it had made him extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. He had meant it when he had told her that he never wanted to see her again.

Or . . . at least he thought he had.

But then he had seen her that evening from across the ballroom, eagerly speaking with an owlish royal easily twice her height.

Like him, she hadn’t arrived in anything fancier than she normally wore, although her usual dress was classy enough to not stand out. The long, loose fitting black sleeves of her top were modest but the sweetheart collar and bow around the front of her waist accentuated her curves pleasantly. The dress ended with a long flowing skirt of burnt orange, the rich color of a southern sunset he hadn’t seen in decades.

Alastor had always enjoyed the company of women. Although he admired their beauty in a purely aesthetic way, he found he related to them better and preferred their company over that of men’s. Therefore, almost all of his closest acquaintances were women. But it wasn’t until that night, when he was forced to come to terms with how much he had missed having her in his life, that he felt a stirring of something he hadn’t experienced since his teenage years, when even his hormones had been challenging to control. Still hesitant to approach, he’d watched her from a distance; debating with himself on whether or not to act on the stirring of emotions he could feel brewing inside him.

And then. . . Mina looked upset. She walked through the large glass doors, clearly agitated, and went towards the edge of the outdoor balcony, out of his line of sight.

Perhaps it was because he had separated himself from her completely over the last 15 months, allowing both of their tempers to cool off enough to think. Or maybe it was just the utter distraught look on her face that drew him to her. Or maybe, something in his dark and twisted mind had finally softened; matured enough to allow him something more in this afterlife.

Whatever the reason, Alastor could no longer find a reason why he shouldn’t allow himself to be around her. Taking his still full glass of scotch with him, he stepped out onto the balcony, and shut the door behind him.

Mina was at the corner of the balcony, elbows on the railing, and holding a cigarette. She looked over her shoulder at him, then turned away again, and with a slight tremble in her hand, brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.

“You were right, you know,” she said once she exhaled. “These parties are terrible.”

He chuckled as he approached her, leaning one elbow on the railing himself but turned more directly towards her. “It’s almost criminal that I tried to get you to make a deal for the chance to go to one. Really, I’m ashamed.”

Her face broke into a smile then. “I did sneak off and find this amazing library upstairs. There were texts so old they were in scrolls. Even a few clay tablets. None of it in English, of course.” Her smile fell and she took another drag. “No one here even thinks it’s of any interest. These Goetia’s, they’re so ancient and powerful, they know so much about . . . everything. And they spend their time doing this? Standing around in outfits and jewelry that costs thousands of dollars just to talk shit about their children and make jokes about who their husband is fucking. I don’t know why I thought they’d be different. Turns out Hell really isn’t much different than Earth.”

“And yet they’re one of the few who are summoned by living humans,” Alastor agreed. “Oh, the irony. What I wouldn’t give to make deals up on Earth.”

“Didn’t you kill a few of them?” Mina asked.

“Ages ago, but yes. Still one of my finer moments,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

She was staring at him openly now, a small smile playing across her lips, as she eyed him up and down.

“You look . . . really good,” she said after a beat.

He brought his glass down, and though he could tell she was flirting, he pretended to be confused. Glancing down at his red pinstriped jacket, he said, “I look how I always look.”

“Sorry,” she said, flicking her cigarette out over the edge without bothering to stamp it out. “I’m not myself tonight. Forgive me if I seem a little . . . irritable and forward. Could you conjure me one of those?” she asked, eyeing his glass.

“Jameson?” he asked, assuming.

“Please,” she scoffed, “Bourbon.”

“Developed a different taste while you were in the south?” he teased and produced the glass with a flourish.

She took a rather large gulp before answering. “It’s sweeter.”

Mina pulled her hair over one shoulder, fanning air over the exposed skin with her free hand and sighed. “I know it’s Hell, but does it always have to be so God damn hot?”

Alastor noted that it was actually a cooler evening as far as Hell was concerned and quite comfortable until suddenly, he understood. Mina was shaky, on edge, flushed, and eyeing him like he was a cool drink of water, even more so than she had before he had betrayed her trust. And she was drinking liquor, which he had never seen her do before. He didn’t know much when it came to the biology of demon women, but he knew then that Mina was in heat. Probably just the later stages of it, but still.

She was drunk and hormonal, and he had been flirting with her.

“Alastor?” she asked, after he hadn’t responded to a single thing she had said.

Normally the idea of someone being attracted to him either amused him or it was like a bucket of ice water down his back, completely repulsing him. But he was realizing now that Mina’s attraction to him, which was remarkably still there despite everything he had done to her and was surely a sign of her susceptible state of mind, pleased him. He felt warm and happy and suddenly perversely excited about her aroused state.

She was watching him, and he had to think, think of something he would normally do or say, and not how much he wanted to touch her. That could come later, if he still wanted it, but he could not lose control of this situation and take advantage of her.

“I don’t find you to be irritable at all. You are being remarkably pleasant, given the circumstances in which we last parted,” he finally managed to say with a confident smile, thankfully always there to hide his inner turmoil.

“It’s funny how much a year makes a difference,” she said, inching a little closer to him and taking another sip of her bourbon. He should not have given that to her. “I figure, if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it that night. Instead, you let me be. You let me live. And after a while, I really had to start asking myself, why? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“I didn’t have a reason to,” he answered, sounding much more composed than he felt.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you kill people for less.”

He had no smart response for that. She was right. Anyone else would have at least faced a painful death before respawning but likely would have ended up on his radio broadcast as a permanent entertainment piece.

“It wasn’t all for show, was it? The time we spent together?” she asked when he failed to answer.

“No,” he admitted, and looked down to see a lock of her hair now wrapped around his fingers. When had he done that? “No, I’m afraid . . . none of it was.”

She shifted her weight, processing what he had just confessed.

“Then why-“ she began, and now she was running her hands over the lapels of his jacket, “-why did you do it? Why couldn’t you just let things continue the way they were going?”

“I suppose,” he swallowed, and he was sure not even his smile could hide his exponentially growing desire for her any longer, “I had forgotten how to do that.”

She smiled back at him, seemingly satisfied and believing that answer.

“Let me show you how,” she whispered.

She raised herself up on tip toes and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and surprisingly controlled. Despite the rush of hormones Alastor could practically smell coming off her, she wasn’t losing herself in the heat of the moment. If she had been all tongue and grabbing hands it might have snapped him out of it but instead, she was sweet and almost shy with him. And now he was good and turned on and he was the one deepening the kiss, getting handfuls of her hair at the back of her head, and pulling her towards him.

His tongue danced across hers and God bourbon had never tasted so good. He had barely had a double of his own drink and yet felt more drunk than he had in years with the feel of her pressed so well against him. She was so right for him, understood him so easily, wanted him as much as he wanted her-

A glass shattered and Mina broke away from the kiss. Without stepping out of his arms, she looked down at the glass of whiskey she had dropped in order to grab hold of his jacket with both hands.

“Oops,” she said and then broke into a fit of giggles.

Right. She hid it well but was clearly more drunk than he had initially wagered.

“You should get yourself home,” he said reluctantly. “Who did you come here with this evening?”

“Rosie,” Mina answered. “But she already left.”

“Did she now?” Alastor said, and then laughed. “Mina, my dear, I believe we’ve been set up. She’s the one who talked me into coming here tonight but you’re right, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“It’s not a problem, really Alastor. I’m a big girl, I can see myself home,” Mina said. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”

As if on cue, a Goetia woman opened the doors and stepped out on the balcony.

“Do you mind?” Alastor asked, irritated at the intrusion. Even if there was a chance that this was this owl woman’s house, he and Mina were clearly in the middle of a private conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sinner,” she said.

“It’s alright, Alastor, I asked a favor of her," Mina said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Actually, would you be a dear and step inside? Close the doors behind you.” She leaned in and whispered, “And just to be safe, keep a bit of a distance, would you?”

Alastor caught a sinister look in Mina’s eye and catching on, nodded to her.

“My apologies, my lady,” Alastor said as he turned to face the hostess and made his exit.

“Alright, what is it you wanted to see now?” the heiress said to Mina without acknowledging Alastor further. She sounded impatient and bored.

He did as he was told and quietly brought the two doors closed together and stepped away from the glass. Though he couldn’t hear a thing, he could see Mina turn and face into the night, the broken glass at her feet forgotten.

After a moment, he watched in fascination as the Goetia’s body stood a bit straighter and stared at Mina as if in a trance. After what must have been only another 10 seconds, Mina finally turned to face the Goetia who then turned away and went back through the doors, with Mina following close behind.

The heiress walked wordlessly out into the middle of the large hall full of other demons while Mina stopped at Alastor’s side, watching the Hellborn with a coy smile on her face.

Wordlessly, the heiress began to rip off her ballgown.

She tore it off in chunks; first bits of the sleeves and then large strips of the skirt, exposing layer upon layer of silk and tool, before finally revealing skinny, scaled legs that were far from appealing to Alastor’s gaze.

“Darling, what are you doing?” another Goetia said with alarm and ran towards her from the other side of the room. “Gwenore! STOP!”

“I’ve been fucking your nephew!” the woman screamed in what must have been her husband’s face.

“Oh shit,” Mina said with a laugh. “That’s even better than I expected.”

“My neph-“ the man said with a pause, “BUT HE’S FIFTEEN!”

“You did this to her? A Goetia?” Alastor asked, tilting his head.

“IT WAS MY COUSIN BEFORE THAT!” the woman shrieked and as her husband let go of her, she began ripping out the beautiful long feathers that fell down her shoulders from her head.

“I only managed it because she was so unsuspecting but . . . yes. I just put the suggestion in her head that she make a fool of herself,” Mina answered. Neither of them had taken their eyes off the show.

“And sometimes . . . sometimes . . .” the woman was hyperventilating and cackling with hysteria now, eyes gone bloodshot as she continued to rip off bits of clothing and feather. “Sometimes I wonder how good our son will be when he’s more grown!”

A resounding gasp came from all the onlookers at that. ‘Gwenore’ hadn’t screamed that confession as loud as the others, but it was still plenty audible to the dozens of people around her.

“I may have also made her confess her deepest secrets,” Mina said and giggled the same light laugh she had made when she dropped her whiskey glass. “I guess she’s even worse than I judged her for.”

Alastor looked down at Mina, and saw all at once, the potential of having her by his side. Not under his control, not limited by his own ideas and fancy. Completely free and standing next to him as his equal, simply because of her own desire for him. She was more than cruel; she was creative about it. Took pleasure in it, just as he did. And even outside of her remarkable power, Mina was lovely to be around.

“You are stunning,” Alastor said, still watching her.

She looked up at him and her malicious grin turned back to that sweet, innocent smile she had used on him earlier.

“Take me home?” she asked, and what was he to do, but oblige her?

____

Mina had been polite and well-mannered during the cab ride home, looking very composed and in control of herself. It was impressive to Alastor, who had heard tales of women losing their minds to their various animalistic hormone cycles. His own rut got the best of him occasionally, making him more aggressive and likely to lash out than normal. Thankfully the sexual urges were rather dormant in him, even for those two weeks out of every year, and were nothing he couldn’t take care of himself in the privacy of his own place.

But Mina had all the signs that she was aroused now that he was looking for them. Her vertical pupils were completely round, she had a red blush to her face and even across her collar bone, and she fidgeted often with her legs, crossing, and uncrossing them several times. To an untrained eye, she was nothing less than a lady while seated next to him in the small cab that was barely tall enough to accompany the height of his ears, but Alastor could tell she was doing a fine job of restraining herself.

Once the excruciating ride back to The Pit was over, Mina casually took his hand and guided him towards her apartment. This area of the neighborhood must have been far from where most of the torture took place as it was fairly quiet, only the occasional scream came from the lake of fire he could see from between the apartment buildings. It didn’t have the same quaint charm as Cannibal Town, but Alastor had to admit, the gothic splendor of the place was admirable.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” Mina said as she walked him up to a front door he gathered to be her own. “You must really have no ill feelings towards me.”

“Did I just pass some test I wasn’t aware I was taking?”

“Oh, definitely,” Mina answered, that wicked smile back in place. “No one can cross the threshold into Abadon’s territory if they mean harm to anyone who lives here. You would have burst into flames the second your feet hit the pavement here.”

He felt his ears shoot straight up in surprise.

“You were willing to set me ablaze to make sure I wasn’t still after your soul?” he asked, shocked and impressed.

Mina shrugged and turned her back on him, producing a key and unlocking her front door.

“You were willing to burn me to get my soul. Fair is fair.”

She held the door open for him and gave a welcoming gesture for him to follow her in.

“I really shouldn’t,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because if I go in there, I’m afraid I might actually stay. And tonight . . . tonight is not the right night for that.”

Now she was positively pouting at him. “I’m not langered, Alastor. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

“That is not-“ he began, and then sighed and tried again. “I’m sorry if I don’t know a more polite and proper way to address this issue, but I’m concerned that your . . . ‘timing’ . . . if I may, paired with your alcohol consumption, may allow you to consent to things you wouldn’t normally consent to.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment, Alastor worried he had deeply offended her.

“You burned down a bar and caused damage to an entire city block.”

“That’s not exactly unusual for me-“

“You locked my best friends up for hours!”

“Again, Mina-“

“You trapped me in an alley and tried to burn me alive!”

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”

“And now you’re being a gentleman?!”

He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but once again, Mina left him speechless.

She started laughing.

After a beat, Alastor’s own smile turned to that of strained confusion to genuine affection. She had a point. It sounded a bit silly when put that way, but it didn’t mean he was going to change his mind.

“You’re insane,” she said, “and I think I really like you.”

He stepped closer into her space, tilted her chin up slowly with his index finger, and placed a single, lingering kiss to her lips.

She sighed as they parted. “Are you sure?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m very sure. Because I’d very much like to have more than one evening with you, and I think if I take this one, I will have ruined that chance.”

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “that is the loveliest thing a man has ever said to me.”

“Dinner then? Two nights from now?”

“I can’t wait,” she smiled. “Where?”

“My radio tower. I’ll cook.”

Alastor had told her a year ago, before he had sent her running, that he had never had a guest there before. He was counting on her remembering that and based on the shocked but pleased look on her face, she did.

_____

Two days later, Mina was feeling much more in control of herself. She still wasn’t sure if she really would have thought less of Alastor if he had stayed the night with her that evening; especially because in her fantasies, it had been a wonderful time. But the fact that he had been so considerate of her, she knew in the long run, only made the sudden return of her feelings for him much stronger.

Alastor made her feel like an addict falling off the wagon. It wasn’t a gradual decent; she was right back to that evening in the park before he had offered her his first deal. Mina was falling for him, hard and fast, all over again, after having spent hardly an hour in his presence. And the only part of her that even cared a little was her pride. Mina had enjoyed her years as a strong, independent bachelorette. Although it was often lonely, and sexually frustrating, it gave her a sense of freedom that she had killed for when alive. But her heart and her body wanted Alastor so damn much, that together they drowned out that pesky voice of independence as she stood under his radio tower, looking up.

She knew where it was; everyone in Pentagram City did. The giant, black and red tower soared over the heart of the city and was impossible to miss. But it was raised up on a deadly looking lattice of support beams, with no ground floor entrance, or even a ladder to climb.

How was she supposed to get up there? How did he get up there?

Something in the corner of her eye moved, down near her feet, and she glanced at it too late. The shadowy hand had broken free from its camouflaged surroundings and already had her by the ankle and even her cat-like reflexes weren’t fast enough to react by the time she was dissolving into darkness herself.

She felt the sensation of being pulled up and seconds later, was looking out over a red-tinted cityscape.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” Alastor’s voice said from behind her, “but it really is the easiest way up here. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to try and make that climb. Everyone who has, has ended up in the airwaves.”

He was setting food down on a small rectangular table set for two, pressed up against a large window, as if to give the diners a perfect view.

Mina turned a slow 360, taking in the whole room.

It was nothing like what she imagined a typical radio tower to look like. She had envisioned a cramped, windowless room, with walls consisting of nothing but dials and controls she couldn’t even begin to understand the workings of. She had seen videos of phone operator rooms, women wheeling back and forth, placing wires into one port after another, and that was the closest thing her early 20th century mind could come up with.

This place was exactly the opposite of all that. It was a large round room, surrounded by several floor to ceiling windows that gave the occupants a nearly uninterrupted view of the city below. There was only one small control panel with a few dials, and one old-fashioned radio from the 1930’s sitting on a stand next to it. Alastor must have done the majority of his work using his magic rather than actual technology, which appeared to be only supplemental to his tasks.

And the décor was cozy, giving the room a lived-in feeling, rather than what one would expect in a professional setting.

There were antlers and wildlife paintings mounted on the few narrow walls of the room, and a long and deep-seated couch placed against the opposite window from the dining table. A few cabinets and shelves placed strategically throughout the room, holding everything from books, to liquor bottles, to shrunken heads.

“Not what you expected?” Alastor asked after she turned back around to face him.

“It’s lovely,” she answered truthfully. “You live here?”

“Well, it’s not the only room, but it is my favorite.”

She quickly scanned the room again. There were no doors indicating the existence of other rooms. Or an exit. Mina should have felt trapped then, but instead she felt safely secluded, much like she did in her own home.

“Ah, yes, well,” Alastor said, realizing what she was noticing. “Since no one else has ever been here, I didn’t have to think of a design that would accommodate anything other than my preferred method of moving about.”

So, he just moved from room to room, via shadow? For a man who could conjure just about anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, Mina supposed that made sense.

“No one else has really ever been here?” she asked.

“No one,” he answered, and pulled a chair away from the table, indicating for her to sit down. She did and he joined her, sitting opposite from her.

“And why me? Why now?” she had an idea, but she wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t like to hear it said out loud.

“My biggest problem with you, Mina,” Alastor began, “is that for some inexplicable reason since we’ve met, I’ve been desperate for you to know everything about me. And vice versa.”

Mina felt her face grow warm. He had been honest then, when he admitted to her that their time spent together wasn’t all just to get her soul. Their hours and hours of conversations, often deeply personal, had been as real and intimate as she imagined.

“Speaking of,” Alastor continued, “please, try the food.”

She did, taking a tentative bite of rice and sausage. It looked to her like some kind of curry and must have taken at least a couple hours to make. Just the first bite had such an explosion of flavor and mixed spices, far more than her European palate was used to. This is what he should have tried to bargain for her soul over.

“That’s positively deadly,” she said with a smile.

“Not too spicey?” he asked. He was smiling as well, as always, but something in his eyes and the extra crackle in the static of his voice made Mina think he was a little nervous.

“No. I mean, it’s more than I’m used to, but it’s incredible. Really.”

He visibly relaxed a little then and Mina’s heart gave a little flutter. Alastor really had been nervous, and it was entirely too sweet to think he cared that much about her opinion.

“It’s called jambalaya. It was my mother’s recipe,” he admitted.

Oh . . .

Mina felt the significance of the evening shift into something more serious. This was the closest he could come to introducing her to his mother and men didn’t do that unless they were pursuing something serious. Her heart began to beat just a little harder at the realization, but less out of nerves, and more out of excitement. That notion sat just fine with her.

“Here,” he said, setting a glass of red wine before her. There was no bottle in sight, but again, this was Alastor. She wondered if she would ever get used to his ability to just create things out of thin air like that. “It’ll help if the spice starts to build up too much for you.”

Mina recognized the flavor as a Chianti, which was normally a dryer wine than she preferred, but she had to admit, it paired wonderfully with the spice of the jambalaya. She would never have though to mix Italian with Creole, but clearly, Alastor knew what he was doing.

It was hard to say how long their dinner lasted. Their conversation continued far longer than the meal and it seemed there wasn’t a topic they didn’t cover.

He spoke in much more detail about his mother than he ever had before, and Mina felt an empty kind of ache that she hadn’t acknowledged in years. She never had such an unconditional bond with anyone. Even her baby sister, who she had loved more than anyone, had distanced herself from Mina by the end of her life. Rather than feel envious of Alastor though, she felt relief. This man, as deadly and cold as he could be, had a soft side. Was capable of love and empathy for another person. If Mina were ever to let herself be with another person again, he would have to toe the same line between psychopath and caring partner that she did.

The conversation turned more to their work, both while alive and in Hell, and how it had defined them so much as the people they were now. They shared the same love of music, were driven by the same desire to not be controlled by the kind of people they loathed the most, and to be powerful enough to feel free.

It was so easy to talk with him about these things, to be here in the comfort of his home for hours, when normally she would begin to feel her social battery draining and get the urge to leave for the peace and quiet of her own solitude. She wanted the opposite of that. She wanted to stay here with him and never, ever leave.

Eventually, the conversation did come to a lull, and Alastor asked if she would like to dance with him.

Mina felt that feeling return, that this was really the start of something big between them, something that could be permanent, and eagerly took his hand.

The radio hummed to life as together, they strode to the middle of the room, and Mina stepped into his arms as the music began to play.

Life is a song, let’s sing it together

Let’s take our hearts and dip them in rhyme

Let’s learn the words, let’s learn the music together

hoping the song lasts for a long, long time

Life is a song that goes on forever

Love’s old refrain can never go wrong

Let’s strike the note Mendelssohn wrote concerning

spring weather

Let’s sing together and make life a song

Mina was familiar with the song, although love songs had never really been her cup of tea, and it had been popular on Earth a few years after her death. She couldn’t help but pay more attention to the lyrics now though, as Alastor moved them in gentle circles around the room. If she had read a scene like this in a book, she would have scoffed and called it cheesy and unrealistic. But there in real life, feeling for the first time how easy it was to fall in love with someone when they were actually right for you, Mina began to understand what those romance novels were trying to tell her all along.

As the last of the lyrics were sung, before the music had completely faded out, they were kissing. Mina should have been out of practice, but just as their kiss on the balcony had been, it was perfect. There was no hesitation in it, but it was slow and tender . . . at first. She could taste the spices and wine on his tongue, smell the lingering scent of Spanish moss and cypress on his skin, and feel the strength of his power emanating from his body beneath her hands.

This time it was her who increased the intensity of the kiss, moving her hands from his jaw line up into his hair, playfully scratching at the short clipped black hair before tangling her fingers in the longer red strands. She felt Alastor’s arms tighten around her in response, his own hands wandering lower until they were gripping her hips.

He broke away from her lips only to then leave a trail of kisses across her jaw and she moaned when his mouth reached her neck, using the sharp points of his teeth to take a feathery light bite out of her pulse point before kissing away the playful marks. She tilted her head back while still holding the back of his, encouraging him to continue.

Alastor was a full head taller than her, and while standing it was difficult and awkward for him to go any lower. His breath was hot and heavy against her exposed neck, a signal to Mina that he was just as needful for her as she was for him.

“The couch?” she managed to pant out, wanting desperately to be somewhere where he could be properly on top of her.

He shook his head. “Allow me,” he said, and with another kiss, Mina felt that now familiar feeling of shadow wrapping its essence around her, and the room dissolved into darkness.

When they reappeared, they were in a much smaller, windowless room but it wasn’t cramped or claustrophobic. Rather, it felt like the bedroom in a quaint, cozy cabin. The walls were wood paneled, in a well-done, rustic kind of way. The only pieces of furniture were an extra-long bed tucked into a corner, made neatly up with a dark green quilt, and a small mahogany dresser on the opposite wall. There didn’t seem to be a closet of any kind, but there was one door that was left just slightly ajar that appeared to lead to a bathroom that must have been near the size of the bedroom itself by what she could see of the distant wall.

Mina noticed all of this in a distracted, half paying attention sort of way, considering her focus was almost entirely preoccupied by the red deer demon looming over her. Their mouths were on each other after half a second of her processing their new location; their hands exploring each other in a much more forward way than before.

Her hands slipped under Alastor’s jacket, grazing over his shirt in an attempt to feel as much of him as possible. Quickly losing patience with the restrictiveness of the item, she pulled her hands back out from underneath the jacket and began unbuttoning it until she could shove it off his shoulders and discard it behind him. He dutifully helped pull his arms and hands out of the sleeves and once free, they were back on her own body, untying the sash made up into a bow at her navel to loosen the fit of her blouse so that he could pull the hem out from the top of her skirt.

Alastor’s hands found skin as they explored under her shirt, ghosting up her sides and tickling her ribs. She froze at the contact, pleasurable as it was, as it occurred to her for the first time that she’d have to take her blouse off.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, noticing her sharp intake of breath.

“Nothing, I just . . .” she tried to explain but hesitated.

“We can stop,” he said simply, not a trace of disappointment in his tone.

“I don’t want to stop,” she responded quickly; desperately. His small grin twitched at the corners at her reply.

“Then tell me what I just did wrong,” he said, his voice teasing but understanding.

“Nothing, you . . . you’re perfect,” she sighed, knowing what she had to do. “I need to show you something.”

Mina reached behind her and undid her zipper herself and pulled her blouse up over her head, standing before him in her bra. She knew he would be able to see the beginning of her spots across the tops of her shoulders, even if he couldn’t see them trailing down her back from his position.

His smile widened further, though he looked a little confused.

“I was hoping to see more than that tonight,” he quipped.

Mina frowned. “You don’t mind them?”

“Are we talking about the same things?” he asked with a playful tilt of his head.

She rolled her eyes at his inuendo and gestured with her chin to her shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows raised in understanding. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

“Well they’re . . . they’re hideous,” she said in a small voice.

“Mina,” he chided, “I don’t think you know what hideous is.” He leaned over her and placed several small kisses along her shoulders, his hands coming behind her to trail his claws down the pattern of spots before cupping her ass and pulling her tightly against him. “You look absolutely delicious.”

The heat between her legs rekindled at his words and she aggressively began kissing him again, growling a bit when he responded in kind, biting at her lower lip. She got back to work undressing him, finding his belt buckle and making quick work of it, before untucking his shirt from his pants and working first at his bow tie and then at his shirt buttons.

In seconds she had everything undone and began yanking his shirt off him the same way she had made quick work of his jacket.

She broke the kiss to get a glimpse of the present she had just unwrapped and then took pause, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before her.

“I told you, you don’t know what hideous is,” Alastor said, in a quiet, calm voice, but his smile was the smallest she had ever seen it.

Mina touched some of the scars etched into the skin of his chest. There were dozens of them, all jagged and irregular, many of them clearly made by teeth. Scars were so rare in Hell, as Sinners always healed eventually from their injuries, unless they were made by very specific weapons or magic.

She didn’t find them to be hideous at all but they made her incredibly sad, even before she knew the cause.

“What happened to you?” she finally asked.

“Nothing. Not since my death, at least,” he answered. “I was quite far gone by the time the dogs started in on me, I didn’t feel any of it. Who knows how or why we take the forms we do as souls.”

Mina thought back to her own last moments of life there on the beach, the jaguar’s weight on her, and the teeth that ripped open her neck. She must have seemed very foolish to Alastor for being insecure about her spots. It really dawned on her then, that though he was a powerful Overlord now, he was once a human like she had been. Fragile, mortal, and very capable of succumbing to violence.

She ran her hands down his chest and then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, and buried her face in his chest, kissing several of his scars as she did so. The hurt in her heart for the life he had led, and the way he had died, settled in her chest like a knife.

“Mina,” he whispered, soothing her, and guided her chin upwards, as he leaned down to capture her lips with his own.

The rest of their clothes were divulged more slowly after that, each item being removed as if exposing the most precious gift imaginable. They explored each other’s bodies with near worshipful touches, delighting in the similarities and differences. They caressed each other’s ears, admired the way their limbs almost matched in skin tone, as they each darkened at the elbows and knees, down to fingertips and toes. Mina stroked his antlers with her hands, as her mouth found a sensitive spot on his neck, and her toes playfully ran across his hooves that began at the balls of his feet.

They were lying in bed together then, on top of the still made-up quilt and both completely naked, his erection teasing her as she felt it against her stomach, making her ache for more. He was busy still tasting every inch of her skin that he could get a hold of when she noticed a surprise flicker of red in the corner of her eye and peered down his backside, getting the first good look of what would soon become her favorite piece of his anatomy; the little secret only she was ever able to know about him.

“You have a tail!” she gasped out in surprise.

He made something between a groan and a sigh, his mouth occupied with sucking and biting at her right breast.

“Alastor!” she squealed and pushed at his shoulders until he relented.

“Unfortunately so,” he huffed, not enjoying the interruption as much as she was.

“Let me see it,” she said, trying sit to up.

“Later,” he said, keeping her down.

“Please,” she pouted, “you see mine all the time.”

“Yours is not an insult to your character,” he replied, not budging.

She reached her own long tail around, using it to stroke the back of one of his calf muscles.

“Pleeeaase,” she said, sultrier this time.

He reached and snatched at her tail, sliding his hand down it until he had it by tip, and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before letting it go, and settling his weight on top of her with finality.

“I said ‘later’.”

“Tease,” she said before he quieted her mouth with his own, and then reached between them and down between her thighs. A finger spread through her already wet folds, easily stroking her up and down from opening to clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted against his mouth, feeling the vibration of his low chuckle, clearly pleased with the reaction he was getting from her.

No one had ever touched her that way, besides herself. Every other time for her had just been a quick fuck, the man taking what he wanted with her until he was finished. It was always just enough to leave her desiring more but completely unsatisfied, like an itch that was never properly scratched.

She was almost mortified when she felt herself begin to purr but Alastor quickened his pace, circling her clit in tighter, faster circles, spurred on by her reaction. It was enough of a sign from him that he liked her purring, so she relaxed and let her body react the way it wanted to.

Then he began working his way down her body, kissing her neck, spending a moment at each breast, and then her stomach. Her nerves got the better of her when he tried to go lower, and she shot upright moments before he settled his face between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He looked mortified at her reaction, eyes wide and smile strained.

“Do you not like that?” he asked, reaching out for her hips. She let his hand settle there, thankful for the reassuring touch, but still felt tense and unsettled.

“You-you don’t have to do that,” she stammered.

His eyes stayed steadily on hers. “I know I don’t have to, Mina. Why don’t you want me to?”

“Men don’t . . . men don’t do that to women,” she said, sounding naïve even to her own ears, but she just couldn’t fathom being on the reciprocating end of oral.

He seemed to relax a little as understanding came to his features.

“I promise you, the good ones do,” he said, guiding her back to laying down beneath him.

She followed but was still insecure.

“You don’t have to,” she repeated, but his mouth was already on the flesh of the inside of her thigh, making her shiver with desire and nerves.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But please, allow me to try?” he asked, peering up from her, mouth only inches from her sex. When she gave a small, hesitant nod, she felt the breath of his sigh warming her flesh before his mouth was on her and she was suddenly very okay with what he was doing.

His tongue matched the rhythm his fingers had made moments before, alternating between long strokes and quick circles. Although she had no experience with it, Mina knew there was no getting better at this than he was. She felt her face heating up as the pleasure overwhelmed her, overstimulating her senses until she was no longer purring, just gasping for air and moaning loudly. She felt tingly from head to toe and when he shifted his weight so that he could curl two fingers inside her, stroking her walls as he sucked at her clit, Mina reached down and took hold of his antlers, watching him work her until she began to see stars. Within seconds she was cumming hard; a deeper, longer orgasm than she had ever experienced.

She collapsed back on the bed, breathing deeply as she felt her body going limp. Alastor had released her from his mouth, wiping his chin with his free hand, and she had a moment where she realized she hadn’t felt the sharpness of his teeth or his claws during that whole wonderful experience, before he was crawling back up her, repeating in reverse the kissing trail up her body until he was back at her mouth. There was a slight lingering scent and taste of her own sex on his face, and surprisingly to her, it only helped turn her on all over again.

It was then she noticed his fingers were still inside of her, and as he lazily stroked his tongue against hers in a deep, sensual kiss, he began moving his fingers again. Long, slow movements, right at the shallow part of her entrance, curling his fingers so that the pads of his fingertips put just the right pressure on that sensitive internal part she barely had registered the existence of before that evening.

Mina moaned against him as he worked her up again, impressively fast, considering she could still feel the aftereffects of her first orgasm.

Right as she was beginning to feel her walls clench at his fingers in earnest, he pulled away from her and settled his weight differently until their hips were perfectly aligned.

“May I?” he asked, but she was already spreading her legs to wrap around him.

“Oh please,” she begged, feeling the tip of him right at her entrance. “Please, please, please,” she whispered.

He was big and now she truly understood his need for foreplay with her in order to prepare her to take him. He guided himself in until he was buried as deep as he could go, the girth and length of his cock stretching her to the point of stinging for a moment before she felt herself relaxing. Alastor looked into her eyes as if searching for any change of heart or hesitation from her. Finding nothing but wanton eagerness in her expression, he began to move.

Mina would later find him to be a rather quiet lover, not one for dirty talk or frequent noises in general, but he did moan quite audibly with that first thrust; a low sound, the static affect breaking it up and making it sound much deeper than his normal voice. She cradled the back of his head as he breathed into her neck, stroking the base of his ears and playing with the soft tufts of fur there.

Together they found a rhythm, a lovely friction that completely filled her up, stroked her inner walls, and rubbed against her clit just right when their hips came together. Mina would never understand why missionary was considered such a ‘vanilla’ position. She loved being face to face with Alastor like this, watching his eyes go black with desire, while also being chest to chest, and hip to hip. He was everywhere, holding her, on top of her, filling her up. No other position could give her this kind of intimacy and paired with the physical pleasure of it, it was perfect for their first time together.

She was so close now, feeling right on the edge of her second orgasm but she needed just a little more. Changing the tilt of her hips, she was able to relax her hips into spreading wider, encouraging Alastor to go deeper and harder into her. He responded immediately to the lusty noises she made as the change in angle built her up, stretching her to the point of nearly being painful, and it was delicious. Her orgasm slammed into her, making her clench hard onto his cock and it was all she could do but whimper as it seemed to continue on forever. Letting go of her grip on the mix of hair and fur near the base of his ear, her hand found an antler again, surprised and aroused that it had grown much thicker and longer as he chased his own completion.

Her body finally began to relax as she came down from her orgasm, just beginning to feel the first stages of overstimulation, when his movements became erratic, and she felt the stinging bite of his teeth into the flesh in the crook of her collarbone as he came inside her. For the first time, without the worry of pregnancy involved in the act, she found she loved the sensation of his cock twitching inside her as he coated her walls with his seed, making her feel incredibly satisfied. She basked in the feeling of being bred; the feminine pride of being claimed, by both his cum and his bite.

Alastor was slowly coming down from his own high; his antlers retreated back to their usual two-pointed form, the blackness in his eyes returning to their normal shade of red.

“I’m sorry,” he panted but she was already purring again. “Was that too . . .”

He trailed off, and she brushed her nose against his, until he gave a soft laugh and responded with the same motion and kissed her.

“I like you like that,” she said. “You can do that to me again, anytime you want.”

They smiled at each other, like the two idiots absolutely smitten with each other that they were, and enjoyed another tender kiss before Alastor finally pulled out of her and shifted onto his side. Mina snuggled into his arms, burying her face into his scarred chest, and began purring in earnest as he lazily stroked her hair and the backs of her ears.

In post orgasmic bliss, they fell into a light sleep like that, still on top of the blankets and tangled up in each other.

A short while later, Mina began to stir, feeling a chill against her bare skin as the heat of their lovemaking finally dissipated from her body. Alastor moved against her, also waking up, and Mina smiled when she noticed the sound of a radio humming to life that accompanied him when he awoke. As much as she would come to love watching him sleep, she would always find that little sound affect to be the most fucking adorable thing about him.

That, and his tail.

She sat upright.

“Alright, love. Let me see it.”

His eyebrows came down in a frown, already knowing what she was asking for, and was not amused.

“I’d rather you join me in the bath,” he said, trying to lure her into something else. Anything else, really.

“You said you’d let me see it!” she whined.

“I only recall specifically using the word ‘later.’ I did not specify when that would be.”

“Alastor,” she said sternly.

“Fine,” he huffed but then continued to lay where he was rather than moving and making it easier to see.

“Well?” she asked, gesturing for him to move.

“I am neither standing for this, nor will I lay on my stomach. This is not a physician’s exam and I refuse to make this anymore humiliating for me.”

“Jaysus Christ, you are a child,” she huffed and got up on her knees so she could more easily peer over him to see his backside.

He curled forward and bit her on her outer thigh, making her jump and squeal, but she didn’t relent.

There it was, in all its fluffy glory, red like his hair but with a black stripe along the bottom side where most deer had stripe of white. It was . . . really cute. But she would never tell him that as it would devastate his massive but fragile ego, and she had a feeling that was exactly why he hid it from view.

She reached over and touched it, feeling the incredible softness for only a second before he reacted viscerally, turning around and grabbing at her hand.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Sorry,” she said, immediately regretting it. “I’m sorry. If it really bothers you that much, I am. Really sorry.”

He sighed, relaxing at her apology, and pulled her down with him to return to the position they had been in before.

She peppered his chest with kisses, purring again as it seemed to soothe him, and listened as his thundering heart began to slow down. He really was incredibly insecure about that tail of his.

“You know,” she dared, once she was sure he had finally calmed all the way down, “you might like it being touched if you just let me try again.”

He rolled on top of her, kissing her hard and pressing her into the mattress, before standing up and leaving her in bed.

“Ready for that bath?” he asked, holding his hand out to her, completely ignoring her statement.

Next Chapter ->

She took it, eagerly following him out of the room, enjoying the full view of his tail and naked backside that it awarded her, but she didn’t dare try to touch it again . . . that night.

@saccharine-nectarine, @inuhalfdemon

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x oc #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin #alastor #hazbin alastor smut #the fire in the sin

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technicallymaximumkitty · 1 year ago

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Theories for season 2 of hazbin hotel

(because i'm chomping at the bit)

((and i'm also insane and I want to say called it lmao))

Baxter, Cryimni, and Cherri Bomb are going to join the hotel (also maybe Mimzy)

Arackness is going to spy for the hotel like Pentious but be more competent (probably spying for Heroin)

The V’s will try to exploit a power vacuum that the cancellation of extermination caused and might start trying to overthrow other overlords

Vox is going to run a smear campaign on Alastor with his blackmail he got from the battle at the hotel and Alastor will have to try and fix his image (and kick Vox’s screen in)

The first song is going to be a song sung by the main cast, one of the verses will just be Alastor and Lucifer trying to one up each other

Sir Pentious, Molly, and Emily (+Dazzle) will have a prison break episode trying to get to hell (St Peter is gonna tattle on them to Sera)

Adam will crash at the hotel because he wants to get back to heaven and is going to be a heathen about it the entire time

Sera and Lute will join forces in trying to stop the hotel from succeeding

Adam and Lute will fight, not recognizing each other then they realize its each other and make out in the middle of a battlefield

Nifty. Back. story. (she’s gonna be an overlord, I'm calling it)

Pentious’s backstory will be broadcast in angel court to see judge if he is worthy of staying in heaven

Just more backstory in general on like, everyone, lot of hearts to hearts

Overlord Husk in action (maybe even some old ‘friends’ come to pay him a visit) ((bonus if afterwards Angel sings his own version of loser baby to husk to cheer him up))

Frank is going to try and be Alastor’s minion, Nifty will get into a fight with Frank

IDK i think it would be cruel but hurt so good if Charlie gets a chance to visit heaven again but it’s after Pentious and the others try to get their way into hell

Either we are going to get constant check-ins with heaven, sliced in between the A plot or heaven gets dedicated episodes and won’t crossover with the main plot until the finally

Seeing family members of the hotel in heaven

Lucifer trying and failing to bond with Vaggie

#hazbin hotel #fan theories #hazbin hotel husk #charlie morningstar #niffty #alastor #sir pentious #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #huskerdust #chaggie

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dewdropdinosaur · 6 months ago

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Smutmas Day 5 - Stuff Your Stocking

Alastor x Reader

(Third Person POV) Summary: You are in a brand new relationship with Alastor, so it concerns you when he dips out of the annual Christmas party at the Hotel. Only when you go to check on him do you find the reason for his disappearance...and his hard-on. Warnings: P in V sex, outfits(Stockings), established relationship, biting kink, cuss words, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by the beautiful and my internet wifey @kewpikayo

The holiday event at the Hazbin Hotel was nothing short of dazzling. Strings of colored lights bathed the grand ballroom in a warm glow, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine mingled with the faint sulfur of the underworld. Guests of all shapes and sizes mingled, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously with the jazzy holiday tunes being performed on stage.

Charlie had outdone herself organizing the event, and the staff—though reluctant at first(ahem..Husk)—had embraced the festive cheer. Y/N stood near the refreshment table, her eyes scanning the room. The outfit she'd chosen for the evening, a festive red mini skirt paired with thigh-high stockings and a cozy sweater, had drawn more attention than she'd anticipated. It’s not like she was the skimpiestly dressed in Hell but no matter. While different from her usual attire, the skirt had shrunk in the wash, the thigh-highs an attempt to cover the skin that would have been more bare.

But she couldn't help noticing that one particular demon seemed distracted.

Alastor stood near the edge of the room, cane in hand. His typically sharp grin was absent, replaced with a contemplative expression as he watched the revelry from a distance. Y/N's heart twisted in concern. They'd only recently begun navigating the uncertain waters of their relationship, and she couldn't help but worry that something was bothering him.

Gathering her resolve, Y/N made her way toward him. Alastor turned slightly, catching her approach out of the corner of his eye, and his face did something unexpected—it softened, then quickly morphed into his more common unreadable smile. What she couldn't see was the way his fingers tightened around his cane or the way his mind raced as he caught another glimpse of her outfit.

Y/N tilted her head. "Alastor? Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He chuckled, the sound a touch higher-pitched than usual. "Oh, my dear, I'm quite fine. Just stepping away to enjoy the ambiance. These sorts of festivities can be a tad…much, don't you think?"

She frowned slightly. “Too much? I thought you loved entertaining."

His crimson gaze flicked to hers, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual composure. "Oh, I do, but there are... distractions tonight," he admitted vaguely, the smile never leaving his face.

Before Y/N could press him further, possibly asking whether it was the strobe lights or Angel’s very loud Italian singing, Alastor turned and began walking toward one of the quieter halls. Concerned, she decided to follow.

"Alastor, wait!" she called, hurrying after him. Unfortunately, the polished floor was slicker than she'd anticipated, and as she tried to catch up, her footing slipped.

"Y/N, what are y—!" Alastor began to ask, but he didn't have time to finish. She collided with him in a flurry of movement, and before either of them could react, they ended up on the floor in an unexpected heap. Y/N was sprawled atop him, her hands braced against his chest, while Alastor lay beneath her, utterly speechless.

The world seemed to freeze. Y/N's face flushed a deep crimson as she realized the position they were in. "Oh my gosh, I—I’m so sorry!" she stammered, trying to push herself off him.

Alastor, for once, was at a loss for words. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he stared up at her, his cheeks tinted a rare shade of pink. "Y/N," he said finally, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "while I appreciate your enthusiasm, might I suggest a less... dramatic approach next time?"

Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "I didn't mean to tackle you!" she protested, finally managing to scramble to her feet and offering him a hand.

Alastor took it, his long fingers wrapping around hers as he allowed her to help him up. His grin returned, though there was a slight nervous edge to it. "Perhaps it was fate," he teased, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "Or perhaps the hazards of such an outfit? It’s positively... eye-catching."

Y/N blinked, realization dawning as she noticed his lingering gaze. Her cheeks burned hotter than before. "Wait... was that why you walked away? My skirt?”

Alastor coughed into his hand, his usual composure faltering once more. "Well, my dear, it would be remiss of me not to notice such a... striking ensemble.”

Her laughter rang out again, this time more genuine. "Alastor—,” she said, though her voice carried an affectionate lilt.

"Ah, but you adore me for it, do you not?" he replied, his grin growing wider as he offered his arm. “Now my dear, I do believe you owe an apology for cascading on me to the floor.”

“Oh, of course. I am so sorry, Al—“

“I did not mean with your words, cher.” Leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a more sinister octave, Alastor’s words spoke with an interesting promise. “Though I would not mind your noises.”

With a quick snap and a misting of green static, the pair appeared in Alastor’s room. Y/N’s hands came to grip the lapels of her boyfriend’s suit jacket, attempting to ground themselves after the sudden transport. No matter how many times they did it, Y/N could never get used to the sensation.

The large king-sized bed lay promisingly in the center of the room, red and black linen sheets draped softly around the surface of the mattress. Small embroidered details lay within the pillowcases and bed skirts, though barely visible. Fitting for someone with Alastor’s aesthetic. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king-sized bed and laid Y/N’s down on the sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, she wasted no time in capturing her lips to his, amazed by the darkened desire that lay within his eyes.

Clawed fingers traced down the fabric of her skirt, fiddling with the hem before sliding it off her legs along with her underwear. Raising her hips in an attempt to help him also with her stockings, Alastor pushed her back down on the mattress. Breaking from the kiss for a quick moment, voice laced with a nearly untraceable growl, he spoke.

“The stockings stay on, my dear. You look ravishing,”

Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering slick that painted her hole. His hot breath on her already weeping cunt made her shiver in anticipation. Moaning at the sensation, Y/N brought her lips to kiss and nip at the corner of Alastor’s collarbone. They had never ventured this far in their relationship, and by all means, Alastor had never really brought up the idea of being intimate. But it was needless to say, the current predicament excited her to no end.

Without warning, Alastor hoisted her legs up on his shoulders, unbuttoning his pants in a quick move. Carefully, as if it would cause him to bust just at the sensation, he massaged the tip of his cock against her hole. Squirming at the stimulation but not allowing a moment to think, Alastor sunk into her warm cunt with one stroke causing Y/N to bite Alastor’s neck accidentally at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, cher—“

“Gosh, Al, you like that?” Y/N’s tone wasn’t harsh in the slightest, if anything, it was absolutely debauched at the thought her boyfriend liked to be a bit. Made sense considering his life choices but still. Her hands came to tangle themselves at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his thrusts became short and sloppy.

“That’s it, darling~. Go on, you can do it—“

Her body acted on command, letting out moans of sobbing pleasure as her release hit like a freight train. Not mere seconds later did he find his own high; cumming hard into her tight cunt, enjoying the way her spasming pussy clenched around him with want. The room was silent save for the sound of soft squelching and heavy breaths, each allowing the other a moment of rest.

Soon, Alastor slowly pulled out, already missing the warmth from the moment before. After conjuring a towel and cleaning both of them up, Alastor tucked himself back into his pants and extended a hand to his lover.

"Now, shall we rejoin the festivities? I believe I owe you a dance—one where you promise not to trip us both."

#hazbin hotel fandom #romance #radio killed the video star #answered #request #vizziepop #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #smutmas #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #dino's smutmas

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shinynewboots · 3 months ago

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The Ballad of Hell Springs: Part 2/5

Guitarspear (Hazbin Hotel) Western/Cowboy AU

AO3

Last Episode

Summary: On his yearly trip to Heaven's Gate, Adam, a forgotten outlaw, crosses paths with Lute, a woman on the run. On their journey, they form an unlikely companionship. However, the secrets of the past don't always stay hidden, and Adam soon finds himself thrust back into a role he had given up long ago. Part 1/5.

Warnings: Violence, implied murder, cursing, past implied/referenced character death, angst

Notes: Our second episode of the cowboy hyperfixation! Hope y'all enjoy! Beta'd by the amazing @devastatedloyallute. I appreciate you! Y'all go check out her Guitarspear works!!

“Right through the heart,” Adam said, crouched on his heels over the dead gunslinger. The man’s neck had broken during the fall from his horse. His face was frozen in shock as he stared into the sun with wide, glassy eyes.

Lute had seen dead men many times in her life. She had smelled the charred remains of her father’s body burning when the fire took her family home. She remembered the sick man who limped through the brush toward her home as a child, begging for medicine and care. He had died a few days later, the room filled with his sick stench. She remembered the way Valentino lay lifeless. While she hoped he was dead, she knew she wasn’t that lucky.

She remembered the blood that oozed from her mother when she died. From her eyes. Her nose. Her womb. The smell of blood lingered in that house until the day it burned to the ground.

This man that lay before her, sprawled out like a slain prey animal roasting in the sun, his neck turned at an impossible angle, made her feel nothing at all.

“You’re a damn good shot.” Adam continued, turning his head to look up at her. His eyes were partially obscured by the brim of his hat; the hole in his hat she had shot only hours earlier stared at her like a third eye.

“I know,” Lute said, crouching down to join Adam. She searched the gunslinger's pockets.

“And humble too.”

Lute shot him a sharp look. Adam only grinned in response.

Lute reached down and searched his pockets, finding nothing of value save for the revolver he'd tried to shoot them with, along with some spare bullets. She examined the gun, looking for that special “V” marking Adam had shown her only a few hours earlier. Nothing of the sort was found on the gun, just chips and scratches from use.

“Likely a horse thief,” Adam said, standing from his crouch. He looked over at the horse the gunslinger had ridden in on; it was a young filly that looked to be fairly rested despite the chase it had given them. “You’d know all about that, wouldn't you?”

Lute wanted to reply with words filled with poison and venom. Continue the game of wits they'd unknowingly started from the moment she pointed a gun at him. Yet, she stayed crouched and silent, the dead man’s gun feeling more like an anchor in her hands.

Adam turned his gaze down towards her, his expression narrowed.

“Lute?”

Lute continued to stare at the gun. There was blood on the barrel.

“He was gonna kill us.”

She nodded. She did not speak.

“You did the right thing.”

She looked down at the gun. Adam’s gaze followed. He noticed the glistening red that threatened to drip from the barrel. His eyes cut back to Lute. Before she could realize what had happened, the gun was snatched from her hands by Adam, who proceeded to make an unsavory hacking noise with his throat. He spit on the barrel of the gun, the clear secretion mixing with the blood. He wiped the unholy mixture on the leg of his britches, leaving a maroon stain just below his pocket.

He handed the gun back to Lute and offered her a hand, which she accepted (with a look of revulsion, of course). “Good as new.”

“That was disgusting.” She said, looking down at the gun and the newly polished barrel.

Adam shrugged. “Disgustin’ or not, it got you to answer me.”

Lute couldn't argue. She placed the gun in her makeshift rope belt, opposite the old gun. She’d amassed quite the collection of dead men’s guns in a short amount of time. Dwelling on the dead men wouldn’t make them any less dead. Lute knew better than to dwell. She looked up at Adam, the sun catching her eyes.

“What do we do about the body?” She asked.

“Leave it. It’ll keep the coyotes satisfied another night,” he replied. He glanced over at the ownerless horse, who continued to whine and kick up dirt. She was a pretty sight, dapple gray with a wildness to her that reminded him greatly of his new companion.

He held up his hands and walked towards the frightened filly. He murmured quiet affirmations of trust to the horse. His voice was deep and calming. Even. Lute could almost find herself drowning in its depths.

“Shhh,” he said, his tone even. The horse continued to whinny and pace but looked significantly less distressed than earlier. Lute glanced between the dead gunslinger and the horse.

“Be careful,” Lute said, closer to a loud whisperer so as not to frighten the horse further. It was unlikely Adam even heard her plea.

Adam reached out a firm, slow hand to the filly. Its eyes were wide with fear and curiosity. Lute feared the horse would bite him (and horse bites were nasty things). Adam, however, continued to surprise her. Instead of the bite Lute was expecting, the horse pushed its muzzle against his outstretched hand. Its nostrils flared slowly, testing its newfound trust with Adam.

Lute looked at the pair with wide eyes, unable to keep her mouth from forming a perfect circle at the sight.

The horse allowed Adam to continue to touch her, eventually allowing him to brush his hand against her neck and grab the rein. He glanced over at Lute and grinned.

“You trying to catch flies or have I impressed you?”

Lute promptly shut her mouth and scowled. She looked around the open plains for moral support, and found very little in the form of Dick, who paid them no mind as he munched on grass.

Adam walked the horse over to Lute, his hands loosely gripping the reins.

“You know how to ride a horse by yourself?” He asked, eyebrow raised and a teasing glint in his warm, brown eyes.

“Go to hell.”

Adam grinned. “You know I just like to tease you, darlin’.”

“You tease every girl you come across?” She shot back, unable to stop the hints of green seeping into her tone.

“Only the pretty ones.” He replied, winking. He glanced over at her, his mouth forming a wry grin. “Though maybe it would be better for my health if I stopped teasing you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the way I figure, you’ve told me to go to hell enough times. And now I’ve seen you shoot proper. None of this hitting my hat bullshit. You might send me there yourself if I tease you enough.”

“I probably wouldn’t shoot you.” She shot back with a smirk. “But you’ve struck me as a man who likes to try his luck.”

“Guilty, Sweetheart.”

He placed his large hands on her waist, gripping tightly at her hip bones. She felt a shiver run down her spine as though someone had walked over her grave.

“I've got it.” She muttered under her breath. It was no use. Just like before, Adam threw her on the horse as if she weighed nothing at all. The filly gazed at her with suspicion, as if offended that Adam wouldn’t be the one to ride her. Join the party, Lute thought before snuffing the sinful commiseration from her mind.

“She trusts me. Just wanna make sure she knows she can trust you too.” Adam continued, unaware of the perverse thoughts that seemed to echo against her skull like the boom of a gunshot. Lute felt her skin scorch, though she knew it had nothing to do with the blaring sun.

Lute could do nothing but nod and avoid his gaze, choosing instead to grip the reins in her hand and place gentle pats on the horse’s mane. Adam sent her a strange look but thankfully chose not to press. He whistled, the sound leaving his lips like the call of a mourning dove. Dick, who had been utterly uninterested in the exchange before and stood a hundred paces away, perked his copper ears and starred at Adam.

“Come on, you bastard!” Adam called. Dick flicked his tail and trotted towards them. Lute’s horse seemed to disregard Dick with disdain, like a proper lady would.

Adam stuck his foot in the stirrup of Dick’s saddle and swung himself onto the horse with more swagger than any man had any right to have. His duster billowed out behind him like a regal cape. He winked at her. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention down to the gray filly.

“No funny business, you hear me?” She whispered to the horse. The filly twitched her ears in response. Lute pulled back on the reins and tapped the horse’s belly with her boot. The horse responded in kind, walking forward with a shocking amount of discipline.

“You say something, Sweetheart?” Adam said, he and Dick falling in step beside her. Lute shook her head. She still didn’t trust her thoughts, instead choosing to focus on the movement of the earth on horseback. It was different than when she rode with Adam. This felt like freedom. It wasn’t thought proper for young women to sit astride when riding a horse. Her father cared very little for propriety, so sitting astride like a man when riding was how Lute learned as a child. Sidesaddle felt foreign and wrong and uncontrollable, like a fish trying to swim on land.

They rode in a comfortable silence as the horses walked on, the only noise coming from the filly whenever Dick would occasionally flick her with his tail.

“What are you gonna name her?” Adam asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“I'm not very creative.” She wasn't.

“Oh come on, you gotta christen her with a name. Just like I did with Dick.”

“And how did you come up with Dick.”

“It's a good, strong, hard name. Just like any name you come up with will be—.”

“Horse.” She said, interrupting him, desperate to have this conversation end.

He shot her a look. “Yeah, it's a horse.”

Lute sighed. “No, her name is Horse.”

Adam simply stared at her. She sighed once more. “I told you I wasn’t creative.”

“That seems cruel, even for you.” He replied, the ghost of a smirk making its way on his features.

“There’s no cruelty in practicality.”

“I don't think I can argue with that. I honestly thought you were bluffing.”

“I don’t bluff.” She replied matter-of-factly, keeping her gaze focused on the reins in her hand. Horse did not indicate whether she approved of the name or not. A practical creature if Lute had ever seen one.

“I noticed.” He replied, his voice more deadpan than she had grown accustomed during their short acquaintance. Lute looked over at him, her hands gripping the reins in a familiar manner, like she’d done it a thousand times before (which, she had, when her father had still been alive). Adam’s expression was serious. Hard. He looked ten years older than he had just this morning.

“Adam?” She asked cautiously. He didn’t look at her, his gaze straight ahead. He pulled on the reins, forcing Dick to a stop. Lute hastily mimicked the motion, Horse coming to a halt almost immediately.

Lute followed Adam’s gaze to try and make out the cause of his change in attitude. There was little ahead in the distance apart from the open field with the occasional tree. She could barely make out a crumbling structure, barely a building frame, that stuck out like a sore on the otherwise tepid landscape.

“We’re about to make that little detour I was telling you about. Just to check on some things and make camp before I get you to Pride’s Peak.” Adam said, his voice hollow. Gone was the man who had flirted and teased and poked at buttons she didn't even know she had. She couldn't see his eyes for the shadows of his hat. He lifted the purple bandana he kept wrapped around his face, and, for the first time since she'd met him, obscured his face from her.

Adam wordlessly pulled on the reins to tell Dick to keep walking. Lute found herself too taken aback to follow immediately. The sun was still high in the sky, the afternoon still early. They wouldn't need to make camp for hours.

But she didn't argue. Didn’t press. Against her better judgment that screamed for her to proceed with caution, she found herself trusting him. He'd let her live when he should've hung her (as was the fate of all horse thieves). He'd offered her food and coffee. Trusted her with her gun. Hadn't tried to take advantage of her. She trusted him, this stranger.

His change in demeanor told her that he trusted her as well, even if he didn't realize it yet.

Lute clicked her heels, causing Horse to continue, falling in step behind Adam and Dick. Adam rode with his head high, like a wanted man on death row.

They quickly approached the burnt building in the clearing, which Lute recognized as the burnt frame of a house. She felt a rock form in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth grew dry as buried memories tried to claw out of her throat and force her to face them head on. Her breath quickened, panicked. Her vision tunneled.

The sound of Adam jumping from Dick’s back drew her from her thoughts. The sound of his footsteps grounded her in the reality of the world around her. This wasn’t her memory. This wasn’t her tragedy. She had no right to be rendered incapacitated by a grief that wasn’t hers (but oh was it almost identical to her own).

She realized at some point in her quiet panic, she had commanded Horse to stop. She pet the dappled filly with one of her hands in thanks and dismounted.

The skeletal remains of the house threatened to crumble. She imagined one bad dust storm or rainfall would finally put the frame to rest. She realized Adam’s attention wasn’t on the forgotten home, however. He had turned his attention to one of the trees nearest the house. It was a mesquite tree, large and proud in the sun. Her father had taken special care to point them out to her growing up. They produced large thorns that were poisonous if they dug deep enough under your skin.

Lute swallowed hard when she realized what drew Adam to the tree.

Beneath the mesquite tree stood three little white crosses, marking three graves. The paint had begun to chip at the wood; dust and rain had made the white of the crosses look dingy the closer she looked at them. Rocks marked the length of the graves. Two of the rocks were placed at just half the length of the third grave marker. At the base of the smaller graves sat two glass marbles, similar to what she would have played with as a child.

She knew she shouldn’t follow. She should tend the horses.

Her ability to stay still had been lost the moment she fought Valentino, it seemed.

She followed Adam. He paid her no mind. If he didn’t want her to follow, he would have said.

She was sure of it.

Adam stopped before the graves and pulled down the purple bandana, finally allowing himself to breathe. Even 10 years later and this visit never got easier. His boys should have been on the cusp of manhood, full of life and promise. Instead, their bones hardened beneath the dry dirt and mesquite tree.

She felt haunted by ghosts she’d never met. Memories that weren’t hers to be haunted by. But shadows from the mesquite leaves danced across the little white crosses, and she found her heart a bit heavier than it had been when she’d awoken that morning. She stopped, intentionally making her footsteps heavy so he knew he wasn’t alone.

It was quiet. They stood there for a while. The wind whipped across the plains, stirring up the dust and tumbleweeds across the landscape.

She wasn’t good with grief. Or people. She was good with silence. And Adam needed silence. She had learned long ago that a quiet presence can offer the most

“I guessed the rock length. Their bodies were too burned for—they started falling apart like dirt when I tried to—,” Adam stopped and muttered a quick goddammit under his breath. “I don’t think she was that tall, but hell, I couldn’t even tell you anymore if I tried.”

She.

“Your wife?” Lute asked. Her voice was steady. Even. Mirroring the way Adam had calmed down Horse earlier.

“Her name was Eve.”

Lute stayed silent. She wanted to say something. Anything. What could she say? She didn’t know him. He didn’t know her. They were nothing but perfect strangers who had found themselves in the crosshairs of each other by fate or divine intervention or sheer dumb luck.

Yet there was something in his voice that seemed to crack and break like a shattered mirror, and Lute realized she might be the first person to witness Adam’s pain. The first ears to witness his tragedy. His grief. She’d done nothing to deserve the honor.

He stared at the three graves. “My boys, um, their names were Cain and Abel.”

Adam wasn’t much of a praying man. But that night he found himself on his knees as the ash and smoke coated his lungs. In the silence, once the screaming pieces of his soul ceased their agonizing refrains, he prayed. He begged. He begged for death. He begged for mercy. He begged for retribution.

Death and mercy and retribution never came.

That was the last night Adam would pray. He found it made no difference in the end.

“ Sheriff,” He said, spitting the word with the poison of a mesquite thorn . “Vox had them killed after I’d arrested him for hell, I don’t even know anymore. He was just a bastard who’d blown in from the East back then. I underestimated him.”

Lute latched onto the word arrested, throwing it in her back pocket to pry about later. Adam was a man full of secrets that seemed to be unraveling by the minute. She wanted to reach out and place a hand on him. Tell him he wasn’t alone. But that wasn’t her place. She knew better. She was smart. Logical. Rational. This impulsivity she’d been displaying didn’t suit her; it wasn’t as her father had taught her.

“How long has it been?” Lute asked quietly. Adam’s head perked up, as if he were surprised she had stayed to listen to him. Surprised he was no longer speaking to only the dust on the wind.

“This year makes ten. 10 years since I lost everything and I ran like a goddamn coward,” Adam replied, his words holding more bite than his tone. He turned to face her. He looked tired. More like a stranger than he already was to her. She could see every one of those ten years etched into the lines on his face.

He looked down at the ground and watched the dust blow across his boots. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He felt a small hand touch his arm, a hesitant gesture. He looked up and brown eyes met golden. She looked awkward and uncomfortable at the gesture. He had put her in an awkward and uncomfortable position. Still, he appreciated the gesture.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” She said, her voice quiet and steady. She was the first to offer him an apology, a condolence. The first to even know of his tragedy in a decade. He suspected Vox had told everyone in town that he had also died in the fire. Running like a coward would add validity to the rumor.

As a result, he had grieved alone.

Grieving was a lonely enough experience. Grieving alone was heavy and unbearable. Begging to be filled with vices: sex, gambling, drinking, theft. So, he had.

“Yeah, me too.”

Lute excused herself to not intrude any further on Adam’s annual ritual. She rounded up the horses and walked them far into the open plains to set up camp out of the shadows of ghosts. She tied Horse and Dick to an old log, giving them enough rope to graze. The horses disregarded each other with disdain, flicking their tails at the other when they got too close.

She set up a campfire as the sky became filled with hues of orange and purple. She glanced over the mesquite tree with the little white graves and watched Adam speak quietly to them as if recounting his day to his family over dinner.

Adam was in a better disposition when he walked back to the campsite. He seemed lighter. More youthful. As though the last few hours had ceased to exist.

“Setting up camp, darlin’? A man could get used to this.” He said, winking at her as he sat down across from her, the fire separating them. He grabbed a package of dried meat from his pack and a bottle of whiskey. He grabbed a piece of meat and then threw the package her way. She followed suit, biting down hard on the tough but flavorful jerky. He lifted the bottle to his lips, taking more of a gulp than a sip. That was something she could understand.

He shook the bottle in her direction. She didn’t typically indulge in spirits, but the burn of whiskey would be a welcome pain. She stood and grabbed the bottle, taking in a gulp, though much smaller than he had. It burned on the way down, and she felt herself grimace at the sensation. She handed the bottle back to Adam.

He took the bottle and stared at it for a moment before taking another gulp. She feared the state she would find him in the morning, but he was a grown man and could handle himself (and his liquor). She sat back down and stared into the glow of the fire.

“We’ll head for Pride’s Peak tomorrow. It should be about two days' travel from here. I’m sorry about the detour, darlin’.” He said.

“This wasn’t anything you needed to apologize for.” She said. While he knew she didn’t realize the double meaning in her words, Adam found himself in deep thought. His whole existence for the past decade had been a piss poor apology to his family. His community. Himself. Or rather, it had penance. No self-punishment or apology could take away the sight of ashes in the shape of his children. His wife.

Lute’s words were nice to hear all the same. Even if that was not their intended meaning.

He must have stayed quiet too long because he saw her open and close her mouth twice, words hanging on the edge of her lips. He raised an eyebrow.

Lute sighed, a heavy exhale Adam knew all too well. “My father also died in a fire. That’s why I went to live at Miss Sera’s for a few years. There wasn’t anything left of the house.”

Adam stared at her, slowly put down the bottle that kissed his lips. His jaw tensed. His mouth felt dry. She looked uncomfortable with her revelation, the same as she had when she had touched his arm at the gravesite.

He thought for a few moments, visions of a past life swirling in his head. “Who was your father?”

Lute furrowed her eyebrows. Of all the things she had expected him to say ( I’m sorry for your loss. That’s a damn shame. Etc.) asking of her father had not been one of them. She found herself stuttering. “Tenant. Paul Tenant. He was a fur trader.”

Recognition sparked in Adam’s eyes. “I knew your father. Bought from him quite a bit actually. I didn’t know he had a child.”

“He was a private man. Only went to town when he needed to.” She had only traveled to town a handful of times as a child. She had everything she needed at home or when they went on their hunting expeditions. They would be gone for weeks at a time, heading north in search of buffalo and deer for their furs.

“That must have been lonely growing up.”

“I didn’t mind all that much. And I had a friend about my age who lived about a mile down the road.” She replied, feeling vaguely uneasy at the attention focused so closely on her life. She wanted to stay guarded. She should stay guarded, but there was something about Adam that made her wish to spill her secrets like a caged bird. “Having Vaggie with me when we went to live with Miss Sera made that whole transition easier.”

“Why?” He asked, pure curiosity in his voice. He looked at her with the same perplexed expression she saw on the faces of the younger children when they struggled with an arithmetic problem.

“What?”

“Your friend, Vaggie? Why did she have to go live with Miss Sera?”

“I-it was a dry season that year,” Lute responded with an uncharacteristic stammer. Adam narrowed his gaze. Fire danced in his brown eyes. “There were a lot of fires that year.”

Adam was quiet. Thoughtful. He pulled out a cigar, rubbing the sweet tobacco against his lips before lighting it with the fire. He took in a sharp breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Lute could only breathe in the intoxicating scent of sweetened tobacco. He gave her a strange look.

“I’m willing to bet there’s still a lot of fires, huh?’

“What are you talking about?”

“Two young girls were left orphans after fires destroyed their family homes. Strange how that happened more than once,” He said, taking in another deep breath of tobacco. The smoke lingered in the air and mingled with the fire.

“It was a dry season,” Lute repeated, eyes narrowed at the man across the fire. Adam gave her a rueful smile.

“I bet that’s how Miss Sera’s acquired most of the orphans in the last decade.” He said, his gaze unwavering. His tone was firm, all joking and flirtations gone.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lute said, the words tasting of poison on her tongue. Lute thought back to every other poor unfortunate soul who had ended up at Miss Sera’s House for Orphans. Lute. Fire. Vaggie. Fire. Mary. Influenza. Emily. Fire. Peter. Fire. Michael. Fire. Gabriel. Fire. Susan. Influenza.

She didn’t like what Adam implied.

She hated that it made some sort of sense.

“Was Sheriff Vox there when your house went up in flames?”

Lute found herself in a memory. A burning house. The undeniable scent of human flesh. The fire glowed in the heat of the desert sun. Why had she been away? Why hadn’t she been with her father? She’d only gone to fetch water. Only a half a mile up the road.

The horses burned in their stable as her father burned in their house.

Two men watched the fire. She’d never met them before.

“Do something!” She screamed. Smoke coated her lungs.

“No use, kid. No one could survive a fire like that.” The shorter man said. He had an odd look about him, the way he stared at the fire with a cool gaze. Unbothered. He had jet black hair peppered with gray. He was well dressed in a smart blue suit that was anything but smart in the desert. His sheriff’s badge shone in the glow.

The taller man looked at her with a leer, his eyes traveling up her body. His skin was olive and his hair was dark and slicked back. He held a pipe between his teeth.

Lute looked between the two men. She could feel the tears slide down her cheeks, though her small body was filled with no sadness. No grief. Rage. She began to bolt towards the burning building, intent on saving whatever was left of her father or burning with him. At least the three of them would be together again.

She never got the chance.

Large arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from bolting. She screamed and thrashed and kicked against the tall man. He leaned and chuckled in her ear.

“Princesa, you’re so beautiful. We don’t want burns to ruin that beauty, hm?” He whispered in her ear. She continued to scream and thrash against him, her throat growing hoarse. She kicked and landed a satisfying blow in the man’s knee. He yelled in pain.

“Vox!”

The shorter man with the sheriff’s badge, Vox, turned towards them with a bored disinterest. He strode towards them. She continued to thrash. He regarded the tall man.

“She’s in shock,” Vox said, his cool blue eyes regarding her with little interest.

“Well, make her stop!”

Vox rolled his eyes. He leaned forward, grabbing at her face with such a firmness that she finished her tantrum due to pure shock alone. Golden eyes searched blue but could find no sincerity.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take you to Miss Sera. She’ll take good care of you.”

Lute didn’t know who the hell Miss Sera was but she didn’t belong there. She belonged at home, sitting at the kitchen table while her father planned their next hunting trip.

Vox stood at full height and turned to face the fire. He didn’t look at her again. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a fair man.”

Vox smiled as though lost in a memory or an inside joke. A fair man.

“Lute.”

Lute shook her head, the flames of her memory transitioning to the flames of the campfire. Adam couldn’t be right. He knew nothing. A stranger. A conman. A grieving father looking for arson in every fire.

Because if Adam was right, then her father did not simply die during a dry season in an unfortunate fire which seemed to be a strange act of God. He was murdered. Her stoic and kind and gruff father.

“You think Vox murdered my father?”

“I think a lot is pointing that way, yes. I know he murdered my family. I know when I lived in Heaven’s Gate, he did that and worse to others. Vox and his followers are full of bad men who do bad things.”

“How do you know these things?” She asked in desperation, her sanity hanging by a thread. “Who are you, Adam? Really? Because you know a lot more about Heaven’s Gate and Vox than any outlaw.”

He grabbed the hat from his head and placed it over his chest, nodding at her. “Just Adam now. But I used to be Adam Mann, Sheriff of Heaven’s Gate.”

He didn’t look any different than he had a few seconds ago. He certainly didn’t act like any sheriff she knew (though Vox was her only frame of reference). But the revelation made her stop in her tracks. Why else would he know so much about Vox otherwise? How else would he know so much about Heaven’s Gate if he had not lived and breathed the town once before?

“Sheriff?” She repeated slowly. She felt as though she had swallowed a lemon.

Adam nodded. “For three years. Youngest appointed in town history.”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips before it was abruptly snuffed out by a dark thought. “I think that's why Vox thought Heaven’s Gate would be an easy target. And he was goddamn right too.”

Lute nodded, tilting her head as she absorbed her newfound knowledge. It now made sense why Adam and his family had been targeted due to his controversial position. Her father, however…

“Why do you think Vox would kill my father?” Lute asked, feeling more like a child than she had in years. She tried hard to think back to their last conversation. Any signs of an impending execution? A premonition of his death?

He’d held most of his cards to his chest and didn’t include her in his trading. He had prioritized her ability to survive and thrive alone. In the end, he got what he wanted.

Adam shrugged and shook his head slowly. He looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “Your father was a good man. Fair with his fur pricing when he came to town to trade. He wouldn’t even sell to the general stores because they’d mark up the price too high. Fur fetches a pretty penny and I sure as hell believe Vox would have a problem with someone making a profit without him.”

Lute nodded. She felt as though she were floating above her body. The ground beneath her didn’t feel real. The wind that breezed seemed to cut through her.

“Lute.”

She didn’t respond.

“Lute.”

…

Hands touched her shoulders, anchoring her back into her body. The ground felt solid beneath her once more. The wind whistled past her ears. Her vision focused, and she came face to face with Adam, who crouched in front of her, his hands gripped tightly on her shoulders.

“Get out of the clouds, Lute. You won’t find what you’re looking for there.”

She searched his eyes and nodded. He didn’t let go of her shoulders.

“I might be talking out of my ass, Lute. Hell, I normally do. But I know Vox and there’s just too many strange things for this to be a goddamn coincidence. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice held a hint of desperation.

“You didn’t upset me.” She said, her voice small. She nodded to herself. “You’ve just given me a lot to think about, is all.”

Adam nodded and gave one firm grasp on her shoulders before letting her go. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, and she instantly missed the loss of contact. The wind continued to whip around them, causing embers to jump from the fire like fleas.

“I am sorry, Lute. About your father.”

“Yeah, so am I.” She said, echoing his words from earlier. She sent him a small smile and readied herself for sleep. While Adam didn’t pack bedrolls, the saddlebags made surprisingly good pillows when compared to the alternative. She secretly hoped he would throw her his duster as he had the night before, as the wind and cool desert night was colder tonight than it had been.

No such luck came and so she wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes.

The light of the campfire began to dull against the battering of the wind, contributing to the growing frigid air. Lute found herself shaking and scooting her body as close to the fire as she could without having to worry about a stray ember hitting her in the night. She’d curled in the fetal position to conserve as much body heat as she could. Damn Adam and his lack of consideration for her.

“Dammit darlin’, I’m not gonna be able to sleep with you shivering like that all night,” Adam called from across the campfire. He dared to have a tone of amusement. At least he seemed to be back to normal (as normal as Adam could be).

“I’m not shivering.” She shivered, unable to stop the chattering of her teeth. She pulled up her bandana as the wind caused sand to beat against her like a million tiny knives.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Shut. Up.” She bit out, teeth chattering. She pulled her legs closer into her body. She heard an exaggerated sigh and the sound of movement. Suddenly, she found herself wrapped in what felt like a grizzly bear’s embrace. Adam radiated heat, and she felt almost pain at his touch as his warmth met her cool limbs.

Her eyes widened at the touch, and she felt herself tense against him, trying desperately to separate herself from his warm, tempting body. Had this happened yesterday, she might have thought nothing of it (she would have thought much of it). But today he had a family. A life. He was no longer a strange outlaw that she could lean against during any minor chill (it was not a minor chill).

“But Eve?” She shivered out. She turned her head and looked at him with wide, conflicted eyes.

“What about Eve?” Adam asked in a way that could only be described as pure bewilderment. He had been in the midst of shedding his duster to throw over them like a makeshift blanket, ensuring that most of it covered Lute.

“She’s your wife.” She said, embarrassed by his confusion. His lack of seeing the impropriety of the situation. Was she the only one thinking clearly?

Adam gave her a strange look as he continued to adjust the duster so that it covered her. It dwarfed her and left them with enough room for both of them to bundle under. “Lute, my wife has been dead for 10 years. I’ve mourned her and missed her, and grieved her. I’ve also fucked whores and done a lot more than cuddle up against a freezing woman in the last 10 years. She hasn’t come down from the clouds to smite me yet.”

Lute grew red and couldn’t meet his eyes. She was grateful for the coverage her bandana offered. She kept her mouth closed tightly, but the chattering could still be heard. She felt foolish. Childish, even.

“Besides, she’d probably smite me if I let you freeze. It’s no different than sleeping with any other man.” He laughed, pulling her closer to him. If possible, he felt her tense up even more under his touch. He stopped laughing.

“You have slept with a man before, haven’t you?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“O-of course I have,” She lied. Apart from the initial horse ride, this was the closest she had ever been to a man. She could feel his legs brush against her own. His chest against her back. His groin against—-

“You’re shaking, sweetheart, and I know it's not just because of the cold.”

“Can you just drop it?” She pleaded, her voice growing louder than she meant for it to.

Adam grinned at her and wrapped his large arms around her waist. His whole body covered her, and she felt the most glorious warmth spread through her body to her toes. The gooseflesh on her arms began to fade, and she was finally able to lie still.

“Mm, you got a lot to learn about the world darlin’.” He said, his warm breath filled with smoke and whiskey brushing against her neck. “I’d almost forgotten how young you are.”

“I’m not that young.” She muttered, feeling betrayed as her body snuggled against him in an almost involuntary manner. She was an adult woman. She was strong. Independent.

She was like clay in his hands.

“Mmm,” Adam replied, burrowing his head deeper into her pale hair. He closed his eyes and began to snore softly in an instant. His warm breath tickled her ear. His arms tightened against her in his sleep.

Lute lay awake for a long time until his cyclic breathing lulled her into a warm slumber.

“We should head to Heaven’s Gate.”

Lute had awoken before Adam and found herself sweating under the cover of the duster and against his body. He was like a living campfire. She had wiggled against him, trying to escape from his grip to no avail. She finally had to resort to poking at his face.

It turned out Adam did not appreciate a rude awakening (though Lute had already learned such a thing the first time they met).

It was once Adam had finally awoken (and not rolled back beneath his duster once he let her go free) and was full of coffee that Lute finally brought up the plan that had been gnawing at her in her dream and most of the morning.

“What the hell, why?” Adam exclaimed, coffee dribbling out of his mouth and into his beard. He wiped his hand across his face like a messy toddler.

“We can confront Vox. The Vees. Demand justice or take it ourselves. Think of all those innocent people he’s killed. The families he’s torn apart. I know you’ve not truly been back to Heaven’s Gate in a decade, but everyone lives in fear of him.” She thought of her father. Adam’s family. Vaggie. Charlie. Emily. Miss Sera. The orphans. Her leaving helped no one but herself.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sweetheart, but we’re just two people. And I’m not the greatest at math, but there’s at least three Vees and a hell of a lot more Regulators than that.”

“There’s gotta be other people in town who can help. We have to try.” She argued.

“Why should I?”

“Because I know you’re a good man. I haven’t known you long, but I know that you know it's the right thing to do. You were the sheriff. You care about those people whether you want to admit it or not.” She sighed and gave him a hardened look. “And because I don’t know if he murdered my father, but I sure as hell am gonna find out.”

Adam laughed without humor, his mind elsewhere. This wasn’t like her. She was supposed to keep her head down. Stay out of the way and don’t get noticed. Don’t stir up a fuss.

“That’s a hell of an idea, sweetheart. A death sentence.” He finally said. He glanced in the direction of his family, where the wind would whip the leaves of the mesquite tree and the three white crosses stood guard.

“What’s a death sentence mean when you don’t have anything else to lose?” She replied, golden eyes on fire in the morning glow of a rising dawn.

Adam looked at her for a long time before letting out a deep belly laugh that shook him to his core. Lute could feel her face fall as he took her for a fool again. A child.

His laughter settled, and the crinkle in his eye transformed into a dangerous glint of fire and brimstone. He held out his hand towards her and nodded at her. “This is gonna get us killed, sweetheart, but hell, what a way to go out.”

She looked at him in shock and stared at his hands for a few moments before her brain continued to think once more. She grabbed his large hand, her’s dwarfed in comparison, and shook it hard and firm the way her father had taught her. He returned the gesture in kind, smirking at her.

“First things first, we’re gonna need more guns,” Adam said, his tone energetic and dangerous. Lute found herself in awe. “Lucky for us, I know just the man to see.”

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fangirlstorycreator · 7 months ago

Text

Angel Dust X Reader

Context: Desperate for a job, you go and speak to one of the V's, Valentino. However, issues occur and Angel Dust offers you a place to stay instead. But it's when you get closer is when more problems start, how could this end for you and Angel?...🤔💚

Slight Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss crossover

Part 1/4

It had been weeks since you died, and nothing was easy for you, obviously, it was hell after all. You didn't know you would still feel hunger, pain, and everything you pretty much could feel when you were alive. You struggled to find anywhere to stay, mostly sleeping on the street and stealing food from people when they weren't looking, or money from their bags. What was going to happen? Go to super hell? You were already hear, you might as well keep sinning so you can survive your afterlife. You knew you needed some kind of job, something to keep you going, because you couldn't keep doing this. Unfortunately, there wasn't really any great job opportunities in hell, and any job you could get, it wasn't going to be a good one. But then again, you were desperate, and when your in an impossible position, you need to find a solution, no matter what. You'd been to bars, clubs, kitchens and local places in Pentagram City, but people either didn't want you or had no work to spare. That's when you see a billboard on the street with two of the V's, advertising one of their products. The V's...they hire people...they give people jobs. But you've heard so many horror stories about all three of them, especially Valentino. You'd heard about how he treated his workers, and would be cruel and abusive to anyone, not giving a fuck. But Velvett did fashion, maybe she needs someone else to use as a model? Or to make clothes? That sounds better than Valentino or Vox. With no other choice, you decided to approach them and try to get a job. The next day, you had slipped into a motel and stolen a key behind a front desk, snuck into the vacant room and showered and tidied yourself up, along with some nicer clothes you had shoplifted the night before. You truly were a sinner at this point, even though you didn't want to be. You didn't want to steal, or take keys and use motels without paying, but you had not even a penny, you had no other choice.

Slipping out of the motel room and placing the key behind the unoccupied front desk, you sneek away, now clean, tidy, fresh and ready to meet the V's for a job possibility. An hour later, your stood outside the V's tower, and your hands start shaking. Your scared of what might happen, and don't know what they will want to make you do, IF they offer you anything. Taking a deep breath, you step inside. A small man in blue uniform asks you why your hear, you tell him you would like to see if there are any job opportunities hear. He walks behind the front desk and checks a few things on the computer. He asks who you want to speak to, which V, you tell him Velvett. He checks his computer again but Velvett has no jobs at the moment and neither does Vox. Nodding that you understand, you turn to leave but he says that Valentino is in need of someone on his set. And he can give him a call to see if he can interview you. Valentino? Why did it have to be him? Looking at your stolen clothes, you knew you needed a job, no matter who with. You tell him yes, and this man calls up to Valentino's office. He tells you that he's is currently in the studio with a few of his workers, he gave you directions and told you to head down there, and Valentino will be waiting. Your stomach twisted, god knows what will happen, Valentino was the last person you wanted to meet, let alone work for. You make your way through the V's tower, this place was huge and there were so many rooms and areas.You arrive at a large pink and gold door, and the sound of people having sex was heard from behind it, you really didn't want to do this, but you had too.

Opening the door, the first thing you see is two men having sex on the stage bed, you didn't recognize them, but to be honest you weren't really someone who payed much attention to the porn industry, but were you about to be a part of it now? A shadow looms over you as the feeling of being watched engulfes you. The scent of cigarette smoke in the air, and a chuckle is heard in your ear.

"Hey there baby... "

You jump as you turn, and look up to see this incredibly tall and terrifying figure stood before you, he wore a robe and pink heart shaped glasses, but his smile....that brought shivers down your spine.

"Mmm...what can I do for you, gorgeous?"

"I, uh, (awkward cough) I....I really need a job..."

"Aaahhhh.....why don't we talk in my office, baby?"

His long spindly arm wrapped around your shoulders, moving you both in the direction of his office. His office was so bright, and it stank of cigarettes, and the room was full of pink dust. You stood, a little shaky from the nerves, but Valentino just sits on his sofa infront of you. Legs spread apart and staring at you like you were a new candy in a sweet shop he's never had before.

"Mhmmm....so what's your name baby?"

"Y...Y/N"

"Y/N? I've not heard that name down in hell before, but to be honest....you don't look like the type to be a sinner either...too...innocent...tell me babygirl...what crime was it that brought you to hell?"

"Well...I-"

As you tried to tell him your story, the door swung open, and in ran this tall, pink figure.

"So sorry I'm late Valentino! I had'ta get both Dan and Ar-"

"ANGEL!!......Angel...baby...you've just barged in hear without knocking....can't you see I have company?"

"I-shit-I'm, I'm sorry Val"

"Hmm...you will be...anyway....you never did tell me what you did to end up hear Y/N. Why don't you tell me while Angel hear brings me my coffee. (Snaps his fingers) Angel, be a good boy"

Angel unhappily walks over to the coffee maker behind Valentino, you can't help but feel bad for him. You knew of Angel Dust, you'd just never met him before, he always looked so confident in his adverts with Val, but hear, he looks so run down, exhausted, pained even.

"I...I'm sorry Valentino but my death was still quite recent...I'd rather not talk about that right now"

You say shyly and timidly.

"Oh that's ok babygirl, I'm sure we just need to...get to know eachother more...you said you were looking for a job eh? Tell me, have you worked in porn before?"

"N...no"

"Hmm...(looks you up and down) And when was the last time you got fucked?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Got fucked? When did you last have sex? Was it a three way? Dom and sub? Ooh! Tantric?..."

"No it...it wasn't like that. It was...about 2 months before I died. It was my...my ex"

"Oh! Aww you poor girl. You must be DESPERATE for it...

He stands up, walks over to you and start stroking your cheek and up and down your arms, it felt disgusting.

"I can just tell by looking at you...your still a little shy when it comes to...real sex......"

Now his hand comes up to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat, it made you feel so uncomfortable. As he leant in closer to you, you could smell the cigarette breath and see into his hollow eyes, the corner of his mouth was dripping with this weird pink liquid, it looked horrible. He was so close now that he only had to whisper.

"I can give you a job babygirl, your gorgeous, and that body is a perfect hour glass figure...but I think you'll need a little...breaking in, so to speak....let me take you upstairs and....I can show you what you'll be experiencing...waves of dark...hard core-"

His lips were close enough to touch, but something unexpected happened that saved you from his embrace. The sudden feel of warm liquid was splashed all over you, it was black and smelled very strong.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry toots! Ya'll a'right?"

"Huh! Oh god! Was that coffee?"

"I'm sorry toots! Oh man yah got it all over yah"

Angel dropped the mug and grabbed you a cloth to wipe down, like that was going to help.

"Angel! What the f- ehem...Angel baby...why did you do that to her?"

"It was an accident Val, I swear! I didn't mean too. Oh I'm so sorry"

"It's ok Angel, it was only an accident. I'm not burned or anything. Honestly, it's ok"

Your warm smile helped him feel less guilty about what happened, but Val was just disinterested now.

"Oh Y/N...I'm afraid I can't have you hear looking like that. Why don't you go home and get changed, then come back later to...finish the interview..."

"I'll lead her to the door Val-"

Angel tried to lead you out, but Val grabs him by the wrist, digging his nails in ever so.

"I'll have a little word with you about this when your working Angel...you can be sure about that. I'll be seeing you soon my little Y/N, oh! And when you come back, where something a little sexier ok?"

Angel couldn't get you out of there quick enough, holding you by the arms and escorting you out of the building. You asked him what the rush was, but he didn't say a word, looking down each corridor as if someone were listening in as he took you out. The building doors swung open, he took you across the street and down an alleyway a decent way from the V's building. Tearing your arm from him, you ask him angrily.

"What the hell is your problem? Why did you drag me out of there? I'm perfectly capable of walking thank you very much!"

"Shh! Not so loud"

"What? Are you afraid someone could hear me talking bad about you?"

"Look babe, yah got no business being in that building a'right?"

"I was there for a job, why are you telling me-"

"Listen! You don't wanna work for Val, he's a fuckin' animal! A'right! Someone like you ain't cut out for that place"

"I'm sorry, someone like me?"

"Yeh, I can tell you ain't meant to be down hear. Look, I know you need a job, but not there! Anywhere but there!"

"Why are you telling me this? I am an adult you know, I can make my own decisions"

"You do NOT wanna work for Val! He's a statistic bastard! He don't care 'bout anyone but himself, he treats all his workers like garbage, worse than garbage! I regret working for Val every day, every single fuckin' day! It's worse than hell being there! Look, I'm sorry I did that thing with the coffee, but it was the only way to get yah outta' there. Once he's got yah, and especially with that fuckin' saliva of his, you'd be a gonna!"

"Wai-wait wait! You did that on purpose? You poured coffee on me on purpose?! What the hell!"

"I did it to help yah!"

"These are my only clothes! And they aren't even mine because I have no money! I have nothing! I stole this so I could have any chance at getting a job! And now I can't afford food and I'm living on the streets! This interview with the V's was my only shot, I've been everywhere else for work and noone will take me. (Slumping against the wall to the ground) and now I can't even go to the V's.....oh god I hate this..."

This whole experience was all too much, you hid your face in your hands, crying in pain, fear, hunger and desperation for not having any idea what to do. Angel couldn't help but feel bad for you, seeing you so broken and having no hope, just like he's been before. He slid down the wall and sat beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder in hopes to help you feel a little better.

"Look babe...I'm sorry, I really am. But believe me when I say I AM just tryin'na help yah, I don't want yah to be tortured by Val just like he does to me"

"But what am I going to do? I have nothing, noone and I can't-(stomach growls) hhsss! Ow!"

"Oh shit! Your stomach hurtin'?"

"Yeh, I've not eaten in days. I was going to use the money for the job Val was offering to buy food. Now I'm going to have to find something else to work"

"Oh babe, days? Why didn't yah say before? No wonder your all pale. Look...this is stupid, I know. But I may have an idea to help yah"

"What?"

"I got...I got this friend, kinda. She's a little excitable, but she means well. Her names Charlie, and she let's me crash at her hotel with the promise that I'll better myself. But there's lots of spare rooms, there's plenty of food, it's warm, and other people are there too"

"Really? You'd let me come? And visit?"

"Knowing Charlie, she'll give you a room the second she sees yah. Well, it ain't much, but why don't I take you there, my way of makin' up for what I did today"

"I...I don't know...(stomach growls even louder, and is painful)"

"Well yah stomach certainly answered for yah! Come on, let me help yah up"

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this you know, I'm used to living on the streets"

"I know toots, but I also know that if I was in your position, I'd want someone to help me too. You look a little wobbly on your feet there, hear take my hand, I'll take yah to the hotel"

Well this was something you certainly weren't expecting to happen today. Yes you missed out on a job, but you seemed to have gained a genuinely nice persons help, at least that was a nice thing. He held you as he walked you to the hotel, he could tell the lack of food had made you weak and you needed the support. Up the large red hill and to the front doors, Angel pushed them open and brought you inside. You looked around the hotel reception to see a few different faces there, all shapes and sizes. But it was the flash of red clothes and blonde hair whizzing down the large staircase that caught your attention, this young blonde haired woman seemed to almost dance over to you and Angel.

"Hi Angel! Where have you been? You've missed-Oh I'm sorry! I didn't know you brought a friend! Hi! I'm Charlie, I'm-wait...are you...are you ok? Oh sweetie your as white as a ghost! Angel what's wrong with your friend?"

"She needs help Char, I fucked up and cost her a job today. The poor gal ain't eaten in days, I was hoping we could help her"

"Oh my gosh! Of course! Vaggie! Can you get a glass of water and some food from the kitchen please? Thank you! Ok sweetie, why don't me and Angel help you over to the sofa ok? Come on, just take my hand"

Charlie was so kind, helping you when she didn't even know you. You did take her hand, she and Angel did walk you over to the sofa. Unfortunately, the hunger and pain was too much, and everything turned dark as you passed out, falling to the floor. Luckily, Angel had grabbed you and laid you down on the sofa before you hit the floor.

"Oh shit! Y/N!? Charlie, could hunger do this?"

"Absolutely it can Angel, poor thing couldn't even stay conscious. Oh no, look at her face, and her arms, her body is lacking everything. I'll ask Husk to help us get her up the stairs, she's gunna need a room to rest in"

"It's fine Char, I can take her (picks you up and holds you bridal style) poor thing weighs barely nothin', it's like carrying a cloud"

"She must have been having a really hard time down hear. Come on, follow me upstairs, I know the perfect room"

A long time later, your eyes begin to open, darkness was now turning into different shades of red, gold and white. You could feel the warmth of the quilt cradling you in the large soft bed, comforting pillows held your still dizzy head, which was lucky because when you tried to sit up, your dizziness sent you straight back down again.

"Hey there toots, yeh I don't think your gettin' up any time soon"

Came a calm soothing voice, you recognised it straight away, and you saw his face when he came from the window seat and sat beside you on the bed.

"Did I pass out again?"

"Yeh yah did, it's ok though, me and Char-hang on, again? Do yah pass out often?"

"A few times. There have been other people on the street who've seen it happen, and when I'd black out, they'd sometimes prop me up against the wall"

"Oh man, you've really been struggling huh?"

"It's hell, doesn't everyone struggle?"

"A'right, fair enough. Look, don't try and get outta' bed again without eatin' somethin' a'right? You'll make yourself feel even worse"

"Uugghh, I don't even know if I can stomach any food right now"

"That's cuz you've been without it for so long. But don't worry, I got's me a little helper bringing some stuff up hear as we speak"

"Helper?"

It was then that you heard the door open, and in walks a man whose features resembled very much to a cat, with wings too. He looked very grumpy, but he was holding a trey with a large water bottle and a steaming bowl of food.

"Eh! Thanks Whiskers! Y/N this is Husk, Husk, Y/N"

"I told you if you call me Whiskers again I'd jam a bottle down your throat!"

"And I looove it when yah talk dirty..."

"(Cat hiss) Screw you man (places the trey next to your bed) How you doin' there? You alright? I saw Charlie and the asshole hear bring you in yesterday. You looked like shit"

"Did you say yesterday? Oh god, I haven't been out for that long before"

"Well like I said, you looked like shit. Ain't nothin' to worry about though, Charlie's downstairs going around the hotel like a kid hyped up on a fuck tone'a sugar, trying to think of nice ways to introduce you to the hotel. She'll take care of you, and so will some of us hear, as long as you don't piss me off"

"Thanks, I'll try not to"

"Alright, I'll head back now. And Angel-"

"I know I know, lay off the Whiskers shit"

"Hmm"

Grunting as he left the room, he was clearly not very happy with Angel, there must be some issues there.

"A'right! Let's see what's been cooked up for yah downstairs eh? (Sniff) Ooh! Looks like Jambalaya"

"Jambalaya?"

"Yeh, must've been smiles who cooked tonight. Don't worry, it's his signature dish, ain't nothin' wrong with it"

"Who's smiles?"

"Hm? Oh right! Yeh, you didn't get a chance to meet everyone did yah? On a coun'a you passin out n'all. Smiles is the nickname I give to Alastor, he's the radio demon. It ain't hard to pick him outt'a a crowd, he's the guy all in red, carrys a weird radio stick all the time. Oh yeh, and he's ALWAYS smilin'. I'll tell yah, it's kinda creepy, especially at night"

"So are there lots of people hear?"

"There's a few. Me and Husk, of course. Alastor, Charlie, Charlie's girlfriend vagina-"

"What?!"

"Well, her names Vaggie but I like to call her that, it pisses her off so good! Anyway where was I? Oh yeh, there's Pentious. He's basically harmless, a bit of a dope but he's not too bad. He's a snake guy, so don't get too startled by him when yah see him. And who else?...Oh yeh, there's Nifty, she cleans this place. She's tiny but fuck me she's scary! She runs around the place stabbin' bugs and-uugghh! But yeh, that's who's hear. And now you too, that is, if you wanna be?"

"I don't even know what day it is, let alone if I wanna stay yet"

"Then lets get some food in yah, come on, let me help yah up"

He puts his hand behind your neck and slowly helps you to sit up in the bed, now your able to see the rest of the room you were in. It was lovely, spacious and warm, unlike anything you've had in hell since you got hear.

"Can you hold the fork?"

"I should be fine"

But when you reach out, your hand is very shaky, and the fork falls through your fingers as you desperately tried to grip it.

"Eh don't worry, it's a'right. I've been there before. Hear, let me help yah"

He takes the fork and scoops up some of the Jambalaya, lifting it to your lips. You take a bite and the flavours burst in your mouth, it was wonderful. The perfect balance of the savoury meats, blended with the spices and rice, it was absolutely amazing.

"Oh my god, this tastes amazing. I never knew food could be nice down hear"

"Yeh, I was suprised too. But if your lucky, you can find lots'a cool things down hear. In my case, mostly drugs or booze, but they're still good"

He continues to feed you, each mouthful giving you tiny bits of strength, you hadn't eaten in so long that you could have practically plunged your face into the bowl.

"Listen Angel, I....I never got the chance to thank you"

"Eh, there ain't no need to thank me toots. I was just tryin'a stop another nice person fallin' into Valentino's hands"

"I know, but I do still want to thank you for it, for this. If you hadn't have helped me, I'd either be used like some kind of inanimate object in the porn industry, or back on the street, probably still passed out"

"Well, I suppose I see what your gettin' at. I guess I did help yah. Seems hell ain't all bad eh toots?"

"Yeh I guess, and you can call me Y/N, if you like"

"Alright Y/N, and you can call me Angel"

"Is Angel your real name?"

"Nah, my real name sucks. But clearly this Jambalaya don't suck! You've eaten every bit! You must've been real hungry"

"I was, but that was really nice too, I haven't had anything that good in, well, forever! Even living food wasn't that nice"

A slow knock at the door made you and Angel turn to look, that's where a tall and rather smugly smiling man entered the room and stood beside Angel. This must have been Alastor, the description Angel gave you described him to a T.

"Why hello there my dear, I was walking by and overheard your words about my cooking. Can I just say that's very kind of you, I do very much enjoy cooking this dish, it's lovely to hear positive feed back"

"Your welcome, Alastor is it?"

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you my dear, quite a pleasure"

He leans down and offers you his hand, when he takes it, he places a gentle feather like kiss on your knuckles.

"How lovely it is to have a new lady in the hotel, I'm sure once your well rested and healthy, you will be a fine addition hear. I know Charlie is very excited to have you hear"

"So, she doesn't mind me being hear?"

"Not at all! Why she chose this room just for you so you'd feel happy and comfortable. I trust your being helpful to Y/N hear, right Angel?"

"Of course, what? Yah think I can't be responsible?"

"I did not say that Angel. Anyway, why don't I take this empty bowl away and leave you to rest, I'm sure your still tired. It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N. I'll see you soon Angel"

"See yah smiles!"

Alastor leaves you both in the room, and only when he hears Alastors feet going down the stairs, he says.

"Tall, dark and creepy with a side'a grin. That's Alastor a'right"

"Why is he, so.....red?"

"I dunno? But it seems to suit him though, he looks like a strawberry pimp! Anyway, how yah feelin'?"

"A little better, I still feel strange though"

"That'll pass soon enough, don't worry. Why don't I leave yah to rest for a while eh? Your eyelids look heavy as fuck"

"How is that possible when I've been passed out for a whole day?"

"Ah, passed out ain't the same as gettin' a decent sleep. Trust me, I know. Listen, my rooms right down the hall if you need me, and everyone else is downstairs too. You get some sleep ok? I've gotta' go take Fat Nuggets for a little walk"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Hm? Oh! Fat Nuggets! He's my little pet pig, he's just perfect. Hey! Maybe when your feelin bett'ah, I can introduce you to him?"

"I'd love that Angel"

"A'right then! I'll leave yah too it, try and get some sleep ok? Oh! And if your hear explosives, don't worry 'bout it, it'll just be Pentious fuckin' about with his egg boys"

"....Ok...it seems I have a lot to learn about this place once I'm feeling more myself"

"You ain't kiddin! See yah later sweetie"

That day you spent it in bed, getting the peace and sleep you desperately needed. And once you were able to get up out of bed without falling over, things started to improve. Angel was always really sweet to you and had introduced you to the rest of the guys in the hotel too. Pentious was very polite, he even offered to show you his cannons, but Vaggie shot that idea down straight away. Nifty was nice, a little sporadic but otherwise fine. She definitely seemed determined with her pest control in the hotel, carrying a needle everywhere she went was a little uneasy for you to cope with at first. But after a few days, it seemed like you fit in quite well with everyone there, but more with Angel. There were a few times Alastor tried to speak with you in secrecy, like he had an ulterior motive. But each time, Angel would take you away and show you something new he hadn't shown you before. Did Angel know something about Alastor that you didn't? One late afternoon, you, Angel and Husk were all hanging out at the bar, Husk had just served you a drink.

"Thank you Husk"

"No problem. I gotta go, I'll be back in a few minutes"

"Ok"

Husk looked so grumpy to be leaving the bar, even more grumpy than usual.

"Is he ok?"

You ask.

"Ah he's a'right babe, my bet is Alastor's got some kinda' gross job for him to do upstairs. Usually, it's him havin'ta help get Nifty outt'a the toilet when she's been cleaning"

"I'm sorry, I'm confused? Why would-oh wait, oh no, Husk didn't make a deal with Alastor did he?"

"You didn't know? It's true I'm afraid babe...Husk hates havin'ta work for Alastor, but he don't like talkin' 'bout it"

"I understand, I won't ask him"

"Maybe when you guys are better friends you can, but he's still a grumpy fucker to most of the people in hear, it just takes time babe"

"I can definitely see why he'd be grumpy if he made a deal with Alastor, since I've met Alastor, he's been quite...devious"

"Yah got that right! He ain't the most trustworthy guy to be around"

"Yeh, he's......."

"Baby? Y/N what's wrong? Yah face changed"

"Angel?..."

"Yeh?"

"Is....is the reason your there when Alastor tries to talk to me alone....is it because you think he wants to try and make a deal with me?"

"......I.....A'right I suppose I shouldn't lie to yah. Look, I just don't want yah to be taken advantage of, ok? Just like with Val, Alastor's an overlord, and when they deal with yah or make yah sign a contract, they've got yah, forever! I've seen the way smiles looks at yah, like your an easy target, no offence. And I don't want yah to end up like Husk, or worse"

"While that's a very nice thing to do Angel, you don't have to protect me"

"I know I don't have'ta, but I wanna. Y/N ever since you've come to this hotel...I dunno, it's just felt better"

"Really?"

"Really....you listen. I know Charlie and Vagin-"

"Vaggie!"

"Oh yeh, my bad. Her and Vaggie just want all'a us to work together, Husk is a'right with me now, Pentious does his own things with his eggs, and I just....well, your the only one hear who asks how I am. Asks me if I need anythin', if I need help, someone to talk to...you listen to me talk about any issues I have and you don't judge me, at all! It's....it's nice havin yah hear"

"Thank you Angel...I like being hear too...being hear with you"

The moment you share a loving smile, Husk comes back downstairs towards you both. But before he does, Angel whispers in your ear.

"Just promise me one thing baby, don't ever find yourself alone with Alastor, or make a deal with him, ok?"

"I won't, I promise"

Husk huffs in annoyance when he's behind the bar again, grabbing a bottle of cheap booze and necking it straight from the bottle.

"Wow Husk, what did you have to do up there?"

"Damn Nifty got stuck in the toilet again, look I know your a lady, so don't go into the 3rd floor bathroom for a while, it's fucking gross"

Angel can't help but giggle under his breath.

"Ah man Husk, sounds like you could do with some time out"

"You can say that again man"

"Hey! Why don't we all go out? All 3 of us? We can show Y/N the nightclub down on 7th street! The one with the fizzy vodka yah like!"

"Eh, that's not a bad idea"

Husk said. You were a little confused, you didn't know there were clubs down hear in hell.

"Did I hear that right? There are night clubs down hear? I didn't know there were nightclubs"

"Oh yeh baby! It may be hell but this club I'm talkin' about is fuckin' awesome! Come with us! Please? We'll take care of yah, I promise"

"Well....ok then"

"Sweet! Well, why don't yah run upstairs with me and we'll get some cool clothes on? You gettin' changed Husk?"

"Nah, there's a chance I'll drink too much and barf up on myself. I'm wearing this cuz it ain't worth shit, don't matter if I mess it up"

"A'right, you do you man. Come on baby! Let's get something gorgeous on us!"

You and Angel go to your rooms and start getting ready to go out, makeup, hair done and you even put on a cute dress. It really showed off your hourglass figure, is was a black bodycon dress and fit you perfectly, even showing the perfect amount of cleavage. Angel was stunned into silence when you came out of your room, like he was hypnotised.

"Holy shit toots.....your stunnin'!"

"Thank you Angel, I haven't worn this kind of dress before, you honestly think it suits me"

"Hell yeh it does! You look absolutely fuckin' gorgeous! Looks like me and Husk are definitely gunna have to keep an eye out for yah tonight"

"What? Why?"

"Cuz were in hell after all, and assholes are in hell. And if any douchbag sees a young woman looking as smokin' hot as you do, they ain't gunna be able to resist"

"So I should stay on my guard? That's just what women had to do in the living world with clubs, or most places to be honest. There wasn't a night that went by where I didn't walk home from work with my keys inbetween my fingers incase someone tried anything"

"Oh shit, that's horrible. I'm sorry yah went through that baby"

"Don't be sorry, it's fine, it was just life. And it would seem the after life too"

"Well don't worry, me and Husk are gunna show you a really good night, fuck everyone else! Oh! I can hear the sound of Husk downstairs, and bottles smashin'. Let's go before he's too drunk to even go out!"

Angel and Husk had taken you to this nightclub, and it really was as good as they said it would be. The music was the stuff you loved to listen too, the drinks were surprisingly cheap, and tasty. And Angel even showed you some cool dance moves when he got you up on the dance floor. You felt so happy and safe around Angel, he would always check up on your and ask how you are, he was so sweet. You were feeling quite hot so you went and sat with Husk at the table, he had just necked a bottle of vodka.

"Hey (hiccup) h-hey Y/N. How you doin?"

"I'm great thanks Husk, just quite hot from the dance floor"

"I get that. Is An-is Angel still dancin'?"

"Yeh, he's got so much energy. I don't know where he gets it"

"That'll be the drugs. He takes them every day to numb himself"

"Wait, what? Numb himself? But Angel always seems so happy when I talk to him. Is he in pain?"

"He's happy when he talks to you, even if he's had a shitty day. Nah, Angel (hiccup) Angel takes drugs to numb himself from Val"

"Val, Valentino? Angel warned me about him when we first met, Angel's the reason I don't work for Val"

"Pink bastard saved you (hiccup) I tell you, every time Angel comes back from a shoot with Val, it's like he's been beaten and drained of every last drop of happiness. That fuckin' overlord's a real cunt...he does whatever he wants to Angel....and Angel ain't got no say in anythin'"

"Oh my god (looking at Angel dancing happily) I didn't know.....oh god I can't believe he's been hiding his pain like that.. why didn't he tell me?"

"Cuz he adores you"

"What?"

"He adores you Y/N. Before you came along, Angel would shout, swear and not give a fuck about anythin'. He'd cry himself to sleep in his room every night cuz of Val. But since he met you...it's only a few nights a week he'll cry like that. And he smiles, with a real smile. Not one of those where your pretendin' to be happy. And it's only when your there that it's real"

"Really? I don't know I was a positive influence to him. Is that really true what you just told me?"

"Every word. Hell! I even told him that your his safe drug! He don't need coke, weed or that horse tranquilizer shit, he just needs you! He's happier when he's clean and talkin' to you, than when he's fucked up on all the drugs he puts in himself. You may think he saved you from Val that day you first met, and he did. But just you being hear, you've rescued him too"

"I....I don't even know what to say"

"Then just have another drink instead (hiccup). Hey! Look who's back!"

Husk shouts when he sees Angel come back to the table, smiling from ear to ear and looking sweaty and danced out.

"Oh man! I fuckin' love dancin! Makes yah fuckin' hot though!"

"Angel, you look like your going to pass out"

"Nah nah toots! I'm good! I just need anoth'a drink! Now where's my wallet?"

"Don't worry Angel, I've got this next round"

"Are yuh sure baby?"

"Absolutely, it's my turn. I'll be back in a minute"

As you waited at the bar, you looked back at Angel and Husk, happily laughing and talking to eachother. You know they had a rocky relationship at first, but it's nice to see they've started getting along. Angel doesn't even call him whiskers anymore, and Husk actually smiles, which was definitely weird when you first saw it. The barmaid gave you the first of three drinks, and when you thanked her, a sudden sharp feeling got to you. Someone had pinched you on the ass, and it really hurt.

"Ow! Who the fuck-"

"Ooooh! Sexy little lady's got a dirty mouth on her...why don't you show me what else that mouth do honey?"

"Who the hell do you think you are? That really hurt! Don't touch me you asshole!"

"Ah come on sweetness! You can't come in hear looking like that and not expect me to want a piece"

"I dressed this way for myself, not to attract someone who doesn't respect personal boundaries"

The barmaid places the two other drinks next to yours, and you go to take them, but this guy grabs your wrist.

"Come on little lady...why don't I take you into the alley and I'll show you the many ways I can put those lips of yours to good use..."

He was really gripping your wrist, it was hurting and you start panicking.

"No! Let go of me! I don't want to do anything or go anywhere with you! Let me go!"

"I wasn't asking-"

"Hey! What the fuck you doin' with my girl, moth'a fucker?!"

Angel! He saw what was happening and rushed over to help you. He pulled the mans hand from yours and stood infront of you, protecting you from this jerk.

"Your girl?"

"Yeh! MY girl! Ain't nobody allowed to touch her! She told you no, and you need to fuckin' listen!"

"Ah come on man, she dresses like a whore, she's got to expect to be treated like one-"

"W-wait...what the fuck did you just call her?"

Angel is getting even angrier now, holding him gently on his wrist, you try to calm him down.

"Angel, he's not worth it. Let's just go sit down"

"No no, I ain't goin' nowhere 'til this asshole apologises to yah. Say sorry to the lady!"

"Why should I apologise to her when she dresses like she's asking for it?"

"I swear to fuck!-"

"Angel! Angel enough!"

This time, you do get inbetween him and the man, Angel looked like he was about to knock him out.

"Angel, look at me. He is not worth it, ok? Just please, please come and sit back down"

You could see the anger in his eyes slowly dissipate, you seemed to ground him and help him let go of some of that pent up anger he felt.

"....A'right...I'll take you back baby"

He put his arm over your shoulder as you both turned to walk back to the table, but suddenly, the guy who had been insulting you, reached out and slapped your ass, very hard.

"OW!"

"Maybe next time you won't dress like your asking for it! Slut!"

"A'RIGHT, THAT'S IT!"

Angel lept on this guy without a second thought, pinning him to the ground, punching and slapping him, not caring what was happening around him. Husk saw what was happening and pulled you away so you wouldn't get hurt, even positioning his wing slightly around you in a protective way.

"Husk we've got to stop them! Angel might get hurt!"

"Y/N, it's ok, Angel can handle himself. And he's doing a pretty good job so far, damn kid!"

"But what if-"

"Y/N, trust me, Angel has this guy pinned down, ain't nothin' stopping him. By the way, why is he wailing on that guy?"

"He...he grabbed my wrist. And he tried to take me outside when I told him no. But when Angel came up, the guy called me a whore and said I was asking for it"

"Ooooh shit..."

"What?"

"Angel has two things that set him off, seeing anyone he cares about being hurt, and the word whore. Let me guess...this guy also put his hands in you?"

"Y...yes. He pinched my ass, really hard. Then he slapped it even harder when I tried to get Angel to walk away. It still stings now to be honest"

"Ah! Now I understand why Angel's gone bat shit crazy on him. Hey! Would you look at that, security are takin' the asshole away. They don't take kindly to men doing those things to women in hear. Hey Angel! You roughed him up real good there"

Husk says as Angel walks back to you both, blood on his knuckles and a small cut on his lip.

"Hell yeh! Ain't nobody doin' that to Y/N and gettin' away with it. How you doin' toots? Yah good?"

"I'm, I'm fine. Are you ok? Your lip is bleeding!"

"Eh, I've had worse. Come on, let's ditch this joint. Husk, your barley standin', and I'm guessin' you don't wanna be hear anymore, eh toots?"

"Kind of, yeh. My ass is still sore"

"Let's go home, I got some ice packs in my room I can give yah. Husk? Yah ready to go?"

"Not quiiiitteee...(reaches and takes a bottle of vodka) Now I am! Alright, lead the way"

Angel was sweet protect you in the club, and to bring you back home when he could tell you had enough of it. Husk didn't really mind, by the time you all got back home, Husk flew up the stairs and pretty much collapsed in his room, hugging his bottle of vodka.

"Will he be ok?"

You ask Angel as you both walk up the stairs.

"Ah he'll be fine babe, it's just Husk being Husk. Come on, my rooms this way"

When you enter Angels bedroom, you notice that pink is definitely his colour. The bed, pink lights, even a heart shaped pink cushion that little Fat Nuggets was sleeping on. For a guy, pink really suited him.

Why don't yah sit down baby, I'll grab yah an ice pack"

"Thanks Angel (Fat Nuggets sits on your lap and you give him ear scratches) He's so cute, I'm so jealous of you Angel. I'd love to have my own little pet"

"If I had anoth'a cute little pig like him, I'd give'im to yah in a heart beat baby. Ah, hear we are, one ice pack. Hear toots, just sit on that, it should help"

"Thank you"

Angel takes Fat Nuggets off your lap and holds him, while you put the ice pack under yourself and sit back down.

"Ooh, that feels better. Thank you Angel. I never picked you for a guy who had ice packs in his room, can I ask why?"

"Ah, I use them all the time after a long night at work. Sometimes...they help"

"Sometimes?"

"Yeh...there are times I work, but the ice packs just ain't enough. But....it's still good to have'um around"

"Oh Angel....I'm sorry your work does this to you"

"Eh don't worry about it, it is what it is...ain't nothin' changin' it.....let's not talk about that right now, eh? How's that ice pack doin'?"

"Yeh it's fine, it seems to be helping. I can't believe that pinch hurt so much! It was like his fingers were made of little blades"

"And he had a face even a moth'a couldn't love!"

"He certainly did after you got through with him"

"He brought it on himself, noone does that to yah, noone!"

"It was...very sweet how you came to my rescue tonight Angel....and it was also sweet when you said I was your girl..."

"Yeh...well...I thought it would make him back off, but it didn't. And please! Please don't think I said that JUST to get him away from yah! The thought of yah....being my....(awkward cough) Are you bruised?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your ass? Are yah bruised?"

"Oh, do you know I haven't even checked. You have a mirror?"

"Yeh, I got one in my bedside table. Hear yah go toots. Don't worry, I'll turn around"

You smiled as he spun around, he even covered little Fat Nuggets eyes, not that he took any notice to this kind of thing. You stood up and pulled your dress up a little, and that's where you see an angry and dark purple bruise, the size of a wine cork. And the area around it was a little red too, that must have been when he slapped you, there was a slight hand print left there too. Pulling your dress back down and sitting back on the ice pack, you cursed in anger.

"Mother fucker!"

"What? (Spins back around) is it bad baby?"

"I've had worse, but why the fuck do these assholes think they have a right to do that to us? I hate being a woman sometimes. Fuck sake! I wish I could have beaten him up too"

"I know yah do baby (holds your shoulder in a caring way) I know. But he's been taken care of, and he ain't gunna make that mistake again. So? Was it a big bruise?"

"About the size of a wine cork. But the hand print is bigger"

"That moth'a fuck'a!"

"I know......."

"I'm glad I knocked that little bastard down.....what's wrong babe? You look sad...why the sad little face?"

"I just...(a few tears start to fall) I just don't like being treated like that.....I really hate it"

"Oh baby, come hear"

He pulls you in for a loving hug, with all his arms too. His highest one comes around and wipes the tears from your cheek as they fall, that was very sweet.

"Just let it all out baby, I know it can be hard to deal with that kinda shit. I ain't no woman, but I see what you and other women go through, it ain't fair"

"Why can't these guys just take no for an answer? Even when I was alive it was the same. Kane never respected any boundaries I told him, he never listen-"

It was only then that you realised what you had said, it slipped out and there was no way of forgetting you just said his name.

"Kane? Who's Kane? Wait! Was that the name of the guy who was in the club? It's a stupid fuckin' name too"

It's then that you slowly move out of Angel's embrace, and sit at the edge of his bed away from him, you felt so embarrassed, you didn't even want to speak anymore.

"Baby? I'm sorry, did I...did I say somethin' wrong?"

He asks so gently and sweetly.

"No...no I'm sorry, just forget I said anything, please...."

Angel knows that look, it's one he's used before and he knows why your acting this way. The fear you had in your eyes when you said the name Kane, was the same fear you had when the guy hurt you in the club. You were avoiding eye contact, your hands were shaking, and the tears kept coming in quiet sobs. You were even hugging yourself. Angel knew....something had happened to you before...He didn't move closer, he wanted you to have your own space. But he didn't want you to suffer alone...he's seen abuse first hand...

"Val was the first guy to abuse me....."

You were still crying, but you turned to look at Angel now. He wanted you to feel safe, and that he understood what you were going through...and he was telling you his own story to help you.

"It seemed so perfect at first....he promised me a career...money...fame...all the sex I could ev'a want....but it was all a lie. He manipulated me...got me to sign a contract for half my soul. I didn't think it was bad at first....but then it never is bad a first is it? That's how it's so easy to fall for it. It was just rougher sex at first...I thought it was just a new way to make it better....but then it got rougher....and then the punches started...on set, off set....nowhere was safe...not when Val was around.....he never respected me....never understood that I was in pain, despite him fuckin' causing it to me....I hate it.....I hate...every...fuckin' minute with Val....it's torture....I know that look baby...I know you've suffered too. Sometimes it helps to let it out...let go of the pain, so to speak. I know it helps when I tell you. I won't judge you, in any way, I promise. If you wanna let it out, that's ok..."

Listening to Angel's pain he goes through every day with Valentino, really puts yours into perspective. But your memories still hurt, and telling anyone your story is going to be hard. But with Angel, maybe it won't be as bad.

"Angel...I'm so sorry"

"It's a'right baby. If you don't wanna tell me, that's ok-"

"No....no I do, I just....can I just have a minute? Maybe a glass of water?"

"Of course baby. You wait right there, and I'll grab yah some wat'ah from the kitchen. I'll be five minutes"

Link to part 2

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #angel dust #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel anthony

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