Noé Luxus #1 fan

Ray here | request are open | 18 years old

[noeluxusno1fan]

Requests are open

Please check the rules under the cut so there won't be misunderstandings. 💛

•ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤

-English is not my first lenguaje, so if I make any spelling mistake, you can always correct me in a nice way.

-I'm a university student and might get a part-time job in a near future, so be mindful if I don't answer right away.

-I write SFW and probably NSFW (depending on the context)

-Please if you request something and I'm not comfortable with it, don't be mean. You can always changed a bit so we both comfortable and happy :D

-If you want to make a request specify the gender of the reader and any extra information.

-If you want to request a character X oc, please send me how you oc look and they're personality.

•𝕀 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣:

-Miraculous ladybug

-Valorant

-My Candy Love

-Metal Family

-Hazbin Hotel (taking a break from this)

-Helluva Boss (taking a break from this)

-Danganronpa

-The owl house

-Haikyuu

-Twisted wonderland

(You can write me to ask if I write about any other fandom)

These is the end of the post, thanks for reading. 💛

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hiii I love the way that you write and its my first time requesting (kinda nervous idk why) 😭

So like, Alastor x Obsessed reader?? The reader used to be suuuuper obsessed with somebody in life then in death reader becomes obsessed with Alastor. Reader stalks him and helps him anyway they can but anonymously. Little did they know Alastor already knows that its the reader thats been behind all of that. Sounds so weird, you dont have to write it if u dont wanna 🙏 LOVE UU💗💗

A/n: This is one of the last has in hotel requests that I will take. For any requests for any other fandom rules here.

Alastair X Obsessed!! Reader

You learned obsession early.

In life, it was someone else, their habits memorized, their routines mapped like constellations in your mind. You never touched them. Never crossed that final line. You simply watched. Helped from the shadows. Fixed problems before they even noticed they existed.

Then you died.

And Hell gave you Alastor.

It started the same way it always did.

You noticed the patterns first.

The exact pitch of his laugh when he was genuinely amused versus when he was pretending. The way his shadow lagged half a second behind when he was irritated. How the radio static sharpened when someone lied to him.

So you helped.

An Overlord preparing a trap? You nudged the plan off-course anonymously.

A demon plotting against the hotel? You erased their leverage before Alastor ever had to smile. Always just in time and without credit.

You never spoke to him nor approached. You knew better than that.

You watched from rooftops, from mirrors, from behind doors that were definitely locked. You left notes unsigned. Interfered invisibly. Protected him the only way you knew how.

It was enough.

…or so you thought.

One evening, as you slipped away from the hotel after another quiet “good deed,” the radio static stopped.

Dead silence.

Then—

–Well now– Alastor’s voice purred directly behind you, warm and amused, –you really should knock, my dear–

You froze and slowly turned.

He stood there, hands folded behind his back, grin sharp and knowing. His eyes weren’t surprised. They were fond. Curious. Like he’d been waiting.

–H-how did you—”

–Oh, I knew– he said lightly. –From the very beginning–

Your heart sank. –Then why didn’t you stop me?—

He tilted his head. The radio crackled softly, like a heartbeat.

–Because– he said, leaning closer, voice dropping just enough to make it intimate, –I’ve never been stalked so… devotedly–

Your face burned. –I wasn’t trying to— I just wanted to help. I swear I don’t want anything—

A gloved finger lifted your chin.

–Oh, I know– Alastor said, smile widening. –That’s what makes it so charming–

His shadow curled around your feet, possessive but not cruel.

–You watch. You learn. You protect. All without asking for reward–

A soft chuckle.

–Tell me, my little phantom… did you really think the Radio Demon wouldn’t notice such lovely attention?–

You should have been afraid.

Instead, something warm and dangerous bloomed in your chest.

Alastor straightened, offering you his arm like it was the most natural thing in Hell.

–Since you’re already mine in spirit– he hummed, –you may as well stop hiding–

The static flared.

–After all… I rather enjoy being adored–

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hello darling, I want to request something platonic! Just Vox and reader who is an overlord and Vox views reader as an older parent figure. I can just imagine Vox wanting to impress reader, I think it’d be cute

- 💎🪡

Vox X platonic father figure!! Reader one-shot

A/n: this is one of the last requests that I will take for Hazbin Hotel, hope you like it 💛💛💛. I'm still taking requests for other fandoms, check rules here.

Vox doesn’t need approval.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

As one of Hell’s most influential Overlords, ruler of screens, signals, and the ever-watchful glow of media, Vox commands attention effortlessly. Demons fear him, admire him, envy him. Ratings soar when his name is attached to anything. He is success incarnate.

So why does he feel like a nervous intern every time you are around?

You sit across from him now in his penthouse office, posture relaxed, presence heavy in that quiet way only ancient power can be. An Overlord from a generation before Vox’s rise—one who ruled not through spectacle, but through strategy and restraint.

Someone who once took Vox aside, years ago, and told him:

“Power fades when it screams too loudly. Learn when to let the static settle.”

He never forgot that.

Today’s meeting is supposed to be simple. A joint venture. Shared territory. Syndicated influence. Vox has prepared everything, charts glowing across multiple screens, projections, carefully curated visuals designed to impress.

He clears his throat.

–Alright! So–if you’ll just look here–

The screens flicker to life in perfect synchronization. Clean. Sharp. No glitches. Vox watches you more than the data, searching your face for any reaction.

You lean forward slightly, eyes narrowing—not in disapproval, but focus.

–…You streamlined the signal flow,– you note. –Cut out three redundant loops.–

Vox freezes for half a second.

–Yes! I mean, obviously. Efficiency boosts retention by–uh–seventeen percent.– He recovers quickly, grin flashing across his screen. –Didn’t want to waste energy on noise.–

You hum thoughtfully.

That single sound makes his internal processors go wild.

You continue, calm and measured. –You’ve learned to control the volume of your influence. You used to flood everything at once.–

Vox rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.

–Yeah, well… I had a good teacher.–

The words slip out before he can stop them.

There’s a pause.

Then, something rare.

You smile. Not sharp. Not political. Just… warm.

–I’m glad you listened.–

For a moment, Vox doesn’t speak. The hum of electronics fills the room. If he still had a heart, it’d be doing something embarrassing right now.

He straightens, trying to play it cool.

–So–uh. Any notes? Critiques? Scathing disappointment?–

You stand, walking toward the window overlooking Hell’s glowing skyline.

–No,– you say. –I think you’re doing well. Better than you realize.–

That does it.

Vox’s screen glitches–just for a split second. Static crackles at the edges before he forcibly stabilizes it.

–…Thanks,– he mutters, quieter than usual.

As you move to leave, you pause beside him. Your hand rests briefly on his shoulder–grounding, steady.

–Keep going,– you tell him. –And don’t forget–you don’t have to prove yourself to me.–

After you’re gone, Vox remains there, staring at the empty doorway.

Then he exhales, a low electronic buzz.

–…Still gonna, though.–

He pulls up the project again, already thinking of ways to make it even better, not for Hell, not for the audience…

But for you.

[noeluxusno1fan]

HELLOOOO

heard you take hazbin hotel one-shot requests... and you do canon character x oc...

hehehe can you do velvette x my oc??? you dont have to btw

i can give you the info of her here (but i cant upload the picrew i made of her, i'll describe it instead)

Name: Billie

Age: whatever age velvette is idk man

Death Date: august 2024

Death Cause: Fire

Personality: Nice person but WILL beat you up if you do anything to the people shes chill with. She could also hate you but at the same time comfort you and give you a hug

Appearance: Gray skin, short pink hair, red eyes, wings like Lucifer's in full demon form, glasses, normally wears a dark blue t-shirt and light blue jeans w/ black sneakers, but will wear anything

if you need any more info you can tell me

Velvette X oc one-shot

A/nThis is one of the last requests that I will take for Hazbin Hotel I hope you enjoy it💛💛. For any requests of any other fandom check rules here.

Velvette notices Billie the same way she notices everything important:

by deciding she doesn’t like her.

At first.

Billie’s standing near the bar in the Hotel, wings folded tight, too big, too regal for someone wearing a dark blue t-shirt and jeans like she just crawled out of a human mall. Gray skin still carries faint scorch marks along her arms, like the fire never really let her go. Pink hair cropped short, messy in a way that looks intentional even when it isn’t.

Velvette squints over her phone, red eyes narrowing.

–Ugh– she mutters. –Why does everyone hot have trauma wings now?–

She doesn’t look up when she speaks again.

–Oi. Glasses.–

Billie blinks. –That’s… not my name.–

Velvette finally turns, slow and deliberate, scanning her like a product she hasn’t decided whether to steal or destroy.

–Didn’t ask – she says. –You’re blocking my shot. And my vibe.–

Billie stares at her for half a second, then steps aside without argument. Too easy. That annoys Velvette more than if she’d fought back.

–Right,– Velvette scoffs. “No attitude. Weird.”

Later, much later, Velvette sees what happens when someone mouths off to one of Billie’s people.

It’s fast. Brutal. Fire-coded.

One second some idiot sinner is laughing too loud, shoving someone Billie’s been sitting with. The next, he’s on the floor with his face inches from melting carpet, Billie’s knee between his shoulder blades, her voice low and calm as a lullaby.

–Apologize,– Billie says softly. –Now–

The sinner does. Loudly. Crying.

Billie lets him go like nothing happened. Helps her friend up. Even hugs them.

Velvette watches the whole thing, lips parting just a little.

–…Oh. –

From then on, Velvette starts appearing where Billie is.

Leaning against walls. Sitting too close. Commenting on her outfits with surgical cruelty that somehow never actually hurts.

–You’d look insane in red,– Velvette says one day, circling her. –Like, ‘top-of-Hell fashion disaster,’ but in a sexy way.–

Billie snorts. –You always insult people you like?–

Velvette freezes.

Then laughs, sharp and bright. –Please. If I like you, you’ll know. I’d be unbearable.–

Billie smiles anyway. It’s small. Private.

One night, after a particularly bad day in Hell, Billie sits on the hotel roof, wings spread just enough to catch the heat rising from below. Velvette finds her there without saying how.

She doesn’t mock her this time. Just sits, crosses her legs, hands glowing faintly pink as her phone idles.

–You smell like smoke,– Velvette says.

–Yeah,– Billie replies. –It sticks.–

Silence stretches. Not awkward. Just… real.

Billie speaks first.

–You hate me?–

Velvette scoffs. –I wouldn’t waste my energy.–

Another pause.

–…I don’t hate you,– Velvette admits, quieter. –Which is deeply inconvenient.–

Billie looks at her then, really looks. Red eyes tired but sharp, posture screaming control over chaos.

–I can hate you and still care,– Billie says gently. –If that helps.–

Velvette laughs, short and breathless.

–…You’re insane.–

–Coming from you?– Billie nudges her with her shoulder. –That’s a compliment.–

Velvette leans back, eyes on the burning skyline.

–Don’t die again,– she says casually. –I already got used to you.–

Billie’s wings rustle.

–No promises.–

Velvette smirks, but her hand finds Billie’s sleeve anyway, fingers curling there like a claim she’ll deny if anyone asks.

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hi. I lived. I touched grass. I’m back.

After a well deserved break (I was dealing with mental health and university not very fun experience migh I add) I'm finally back again people.

For all the old requests, don't worry the majority of them are written and I'll start publishing once I have the old requests finished.

I also want to say that, for the time being, I won’t be writing any more content related to Hazbin Hotel.

Even though I was mostly known for it, I don’t really feel comfortable with the show anymore. I was suddenly exposed to a lot of its content all at once, and I realized I need some distance from it.

I appreciate everyone who supported my work, and I hope you can understand. For now, I’ll be focusing on other things.

I'll be working more on Miraculous and DC related content from now on (maybe other fandoms).

For now I'm thinking of writing a fic Damian x reader but I still have to give it more thinking.

To sum up requests are open again. Please check the rules here before requesting.

Anyway thanks for all the people that are still here and for the new people. I'll be waiting for the new request. 💛💛

[noeluxusno1fan]

sorry to ask but is the request open?😅

Hiii! Although I left my asking box open just in case my requests are closed for now as it is written.

You can still leave a request but keep in mind that is going to take more time than the usual.

Anyways thank you so much for the support and for stepping out to ask. 💛💛

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hello 👋, I wanted to make a request for alastor x fm reader,but the reader was his wife when he was alive. I have this idea where when she dies, her body design is almost like alastor but a moose. She's like really tall, too. You can decide how she like died or whatever if you want, I was thinking that she was trampled by a moose or smth, but up to you. I think their reunion would be funny cause they kinda match, and she towers over him. How their relationship is and how they reunite is up to you.

Alastor X Moose wife reader one-shot

A/n: Hope you like it 💛

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

When you died, you expected darkness. Maybe peace. Maybe nothing at all.

What you did not expect was waking up in Hell as… well, a seven-foot-tall moose-themed demon. Antlers, hooves, the whole forest-goth package. Honestly? You looked kind of badass.

Your death had been embarrassing. Trampled by an angry moose during berry-picking season. You never told anyone that part, even in Hell.

At first, you wandered the streets, getting odd stares. Later you learned it wasn’t the antlers they feared, it was the way you radiated the same unsettling aura as a certain Radio Demon.

And speaking of him…

You turned a corner, and a terrible, familiar broadcast-static laugh echoed from a nearby alley.

Your heart froze.

He looked exactly the same, pinstripes, smile too sharp, eyes glowing like broken radio tubes. But he was smaller than you remembered. Or maybe you were just a lot bigger now.

Alastor froze mid-stride when he saw you. For a moment, the Radio Demon, the Nightmare of New Orleans, looked like someone had yanked the plug out of his transmitter.

—…Darling?—

You blinked.

—Alastor?—

The silence stretched. A tumbleweed literally rolled between you. Hell is weird.

Then he started laughing. Loud. Distorted. Joyous.

—My, my! Look at you! You truly outdid me! Antlers and everything! Why, you’re absolutely towering over me!—

You crossed your arms, trying not to smile.

—I always told you I’d grow stronger than you someday.—

—Yes, but I imagined… spiritually, not vertically! Good heavens, sweetheart, I could use you as a coat rack!—

You flicked one of your antlers.

—Try it and I’ll throw you across the Pentagram.—

—Ah! There she is! My lovely wife… dead and already threatening me. How nostalgic!—

He stepped closer, touching your hand, or rather, your clawed moose hand. His voice softened beneath the static.

—I missed you, you know.—

Your chest warmed.

—I missed you too. Even when you were being a dramatic creep.—

—I am always a dramatic creep, dearest.—

He tangled his fingers with yours, absolutely delighted with how dwarfed he was beside you.

—Imagine the headlines: The Radio Demon and His Terrifying Moose Bride! The city will talk for week!—

You snorted.

—Alastor. Please. They talk about you every day already.—

—Yes, but now we match! A charming, monstrous power couple!—

He proudly offered his arm, which looked hilariously tiny next to yours.

—Come along, my towering beloved. Let’s go terrify the neighborhood together.—

You bent down slightly, brushing a kiss against his cheek.

—Lead the way, radio boy.—

His grin crackled like static.

—With pleasure.—

And just like that, you and your eccentric, chaotic husband walked into the crimson glow of Hell, a perfect, mismatched pair reunited at last.

[noeluxusno1fan]

The reader accepts the same deal Alastor made with Vox, just to stay with him (the reader is Alastor's girlfriend for a while), against his will, as he didn't want his beloved to suffer. However, the reader is very romantic and stubborn, believing that if they are going to suffer, they will suffer together. What Alastor didn't know was that Vox was gradually seeing the reader as something cute and innocent, even stopping Valentino from saying indecent things in front of her and giving her things like sweets and a cute little chair. Perhaps the reader looked like a cute little bunny with those adorable eyes when she asked for something (which melted Vox's heart with so much cuteness that it should be a crime). Meanwhile, Alastor mentally plans all kinds of deaths that Vox will suffer just for touching the reader (Vox strokes the reader's head and gives her sweets). And the reader knows that her boyfriend is not at all happy about this and knows that, when Alastor's plan is fulfilled and he wins and gets out of this situation, it won't just be Vox who suffers, simply because of Alastor's psychotic and possessive gaze.

Alastor X reader X Vox

A/n: sorry for taking so long to publish it, I wasn't very happy about the result. Hope you like it. 💛💛

⚠️⚠️Not polyamorous⚠️⚠️

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

The deal tasted like metal on your tongue. It felt wrong from the start, but you still smiled at Alastor while shaking Vox's hand. You wanted to stay with him. Even if it meant falling into the same trap he once did.

Alastor’s smile was thin and sharp. It looked like a smile but it was not a happy one.

—You should not have done that, my dear.—

—Then we suffer together.— you said.

For a moment his eyes softened. Then they hardened again. He knew Vox would enjoy this too much.

Vox did enjoy it. But not in the way you expected.

The first day, he only watched you from the corner of his glowing screen. The second day, he stopped Valentino from saying something crude about your clothes. The third day, he placed a small pastel chair next to his desk. A cute one, with little stars on the legs.

—Sit here, sweetheart. It suits you.—

Alastor’s smile twitched. If a smile could bleed, his would.

You sat anyway, because it was comfortable, and because you were not afraid. When Vox handed you candy, you took it. When he gently patted your head, your cheeks warmed.

Alastor’s eyes burned.

Inside his mind, a thousand ways to kill Vox played like a broken radio. A wire around the throat. A trap in the dark. Stars falling like knives. Many options. Too many.

You felt his gaze on you and you knew that look. Possessive. Protective. Terrifying in a way that made your heart skip for reasons you could not explain.

You leaned toward him and whispered:

—I know you hate this. But I am fine.—

His fingers twitched. His voice was calm but cold.

—I do not appreciate him touching what is mine.—

You poked his cheek gently.

—I am not an object, Alastor.—

—No, but you are… precious.—

Across the room, Vox froze. You had asked him if you could have another candy. Your eyes were soft and shining like a small bunny. He felt something inside him break.

—Of course you can.— he said too fast.

He placed two candies into your hand. Then three. Then the whole box. He even brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

Alastor’s smile stretched in a way that would make demons run.

Vox should have been afraid. But he was too busy melting from how adorable you looked.

You took the candy and looked back at Alastor with a small smile that said everything: You knew. You understood. And you trusted him, even with the storm in his eyes.

He would win. He always planned to win. And when the deal finally snapped under his control, it would not only be Vox who suffered.

For now, you stayed close to him. You held his arm. You whispered:

—I chose this. I chose you.—

Alastor finally looked at you, not at Vox, and for a second the violent plans in his mind faded.

—Then I suppose we will handle this together… my dear.—

And behind you, Vox kept staring, wondering how someone so cute could walk willingly into the jaws of a monster. Wonders of Hell, he guessed.

But he still gave you another candy.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Alastor x reader and reader had an obsession with him when they were alive but it’s like the 90s and it was being obsessed with him through re recordings of his radio show…and then she killed a butcher of men and Frankensteined them to look like alastor and tried to make it come to life and be alastor but it didn’t work and alastor finds out about it

Alastor X Obsessed reader one-shot

A/n: Hope you like it. 💛

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

You had always lived a quiet life in the 90s. People said you were shy, but the truth was that your mind was full of noise. Not real noise, but the sound of an old radio voice that became your favorite thing in the world. Alastor. The Radio Demon. Of course, you did not know he was a demon. You only knew a voice from the past that made you feel something strange and warm.

You found him through old recordings in a flea market. They were scratched and dusty, but when you played them at night, his smooth, cheerful tone filled your room. It felt like he was talking right to you. You listened every night until the tapes stretched thin. You memorized his jokes, the way he laughed, the way he said good evening like it was a spell made for you alone.

Soon it became an obsession. You talked to him even when the radio was off. You imagined his face. You imagined him standing beside you, smiling politely with eyes that saw everything. You imagined him loving you. But imagination was not enough.

Men in your town noticed you one day. They came close, too close. They flirted and touched without permission. They were loud and hungry. You hated it. They were nothing like him. They could not compare. They should not even try.

One night you snapped.

It started with one man who followed you down an empty street. Then another who cornered you at the bus stop. Then the group who laughed at you at the bar. You felt something break inside your mind. The world became red like a warning light. You did things you never thought you could do. You dragged bodies home. You worked silently. You stitched them together with shaking hands. You carved a smile on the face of your creation, trying to make it look like him. You whispered to it.

—Wake up… please wake up. Be Alastor for me.—

But it never opened its eyes.

Still, you kept working. Night after night, you tried to bring him to life. You lit candles. You tried electricity. You tried everything, but the stitched body stayed still and cold.

You did not know that in Hell, far below, Alastor heard every word.

He heard the prayers that were not prayers. He heard the soft, broken voice calling his name. It amused him at first. Humans always did strange things when they were lonely. But when he learned what you had made in your small hidden room, his smile grew sharp.

When you finally died, you did not remember how. Maybe you starved. Maybe you forgot to sleep. Maybe the police found you. It did not matter. One second you were in your dark room, and the next you were standing in Hell. The air was hot, but not unpleasant. You looked around in confusion until you heard a familiar laugh.

Alastor appeared from the shadows like a stage actor stepping onto the scene. Tall. Elegant. Smiling with perfect teeth.

—My my. What a delight to finally meet the little voice who whispered at my old recordings.—

Your breath caught. You could not move.

He walked closer. His cane tapped the ground with a soft rhythm. He tilted his head as he studied you, and the smile widened.

—I must say, my dear, it is not every day I learn that someone went through such… creative efforts on my behalf.—

Your heart felt like it was going to burst.

—I listened,— you whispered. —I loved your voice. I wanted… I wanted you.—

His eyes glowed bright red.

—You wanted me so much that you built a rather charming imitation. Oh, please do not look so shy. I am quite flattered. Not many fans go to the trouble of assembling their own Radio Demon.—

You felt embarrassed. Fear slowly mixed with hope.

—Was it wrong?— you asked softly.

He considered the question with theatrical thoughtfulness.

—Wrong? No no. Horrifying? Yes. Unethical? Absolutely. Entertaining? Most definitely. And now you are here, little listener. No more tapes. No more fake me. Just the real Alastor.—

He reached out with one gloved hand and lifted your chin.

—Tell me… what exactly do you want now that you finally have my attention?—

You stared into his glowing eyes. You felt your obsession rise again, stronger than ever.

—I want you,— you said.

His laugh echoed, warm and chilling at the same time.

—Then, my dear, let us see what kind of story we can make together.—

And the shadows swallowed you both.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hi! How do you do? I was wanting to request some Baxter X !male serial killer reader headcanons, if you do headcanons of course

Baxter X Male serial killer reader head-canons

A/n: Of course I do head-canons. I have to say that I wrote this befoure watching season two so it might be ooc, still I tried my best Hope you like it. Anyways requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

I feel like if Baxter genuinely liked his partner, really liked him, he’d treat the relationship like a long, delicate experiment he refuses to let fail.

What I mean by this is that Baxter is constantly immersed in his work. The guy breathes chemical fumes instead of air. Half the time he forgets to eat because he’s running fifty tests at once.

So he might not always have time to physically be with his partner, but he’d make up for it in his own… Baxter-style way.

Even if he doesn’t have much free time, the moments he does spend with his partner would be almost ritualistic. Quality over quantity. Every minute carefully measured, observed, treasured.

He’s not someone who enjoys chaos in his private life, his lab already gives him enough of that, so he’d want a relationship that feels controlled, stable, intellectually stimulating, and reassuring.

And you? A popular serial killer in Hell? Baxter would find you fascinating.

Not in a moral sense, morality died long before either of you got here, but as a complex organism he wants to understand. The fact that you’re dangerous wouldn’t scare him; he’d be intrigued, maybe even thrilled, studying the layers of how your mind works.

Because of that, he’d love slowly, not passionately, more like a scientist forming an attachment to the one experiment he can’t afford to lose.

Every interaction with you would feel like something valuable to him, almost like rare data he needs to archive and analyze.

Even if Baxter loves calmly, he definitely has an obsessive streak. Not loud or dramatic, but quiet, insidious, the type of obsession that lives in the mind rather than the body.

He would see you as someone uniquely compatible with him, someone who understands darkness without being repulsed by it. Someone whose violence mirrors his intellect.

And deep down, he’d believe he’s the only one truly capable of handling you. This leads to something important: Baxter would get jealous.

Not insecure, he’s too arrogant for that, but possessive over your attention.

He struggles to understand emotional nuance, so if he sees you talking too comfortably with someone else, he’ll start internally sparking like a faulty machine.

He won’t make a scene, but his voice will get sharper, his gaze colder, his hands a little too tight around his tools.

Another essential point about Baxter is his obsession with presentation and credibility.

He wants a partner who reflects well on him, not because he’s shallow, but because reputation is part of how he maintains control and authority.

Your public image as a dangerous, efficient killer. That’s not a problem. He’d actually think it adds a certain… prestige.

What matters to him is that you look composed at his side, sharp, intimidating, respectable in the way demons in Hell respect fear and competence.

Being someone valued by Baxter means access, to resources, to chemicals, to information.

If your work benefits from that, he’d quietly make it happen, slipping you exactly what you need, no questions asked.

At the end of the day, Baxter would treat you carefully almost reverently, as long as real affection is involved.

His love wouldn’t be dramatic, but it would be consuming in its own cold, obsessive way.

And there’s always the chance he’d choose to be with you not only because he cares, but because having a brilliant, lethal partner is… extremely convenient for his plans.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Alastor x reader except reader is EXTREMELY irritable, like the littlest things set them off. This makes working at the hotel very difficult for them , but the one thing that truly keeps them calm is the radio demon himself :D

Alastor X reader one-shot

A/n: Hope you like it 💛. Anyways requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

The Hazbin Hotel was loud in a way that felt almost personal. Every clang of a door, every shriek of an arguing guest, every feather that Husk shed while stretching his wings seemed to stab directly into your nerves. Most days you wondered if this place had been built specifically to torment you.

Today was no exception.

You stood behind the front counter, fingers pressed to your temples while Angel Dust sang loudly and off-key in the lobby. Nifty was cleaning the same spot on the floor for the fifteenth time, muttering about germs. Someone upstairs screamed as if the entire building had burst into flames.

Your left eye twitched.

Then you felt it, more than heard it: that faint, familiar hum of static, like a warm hand on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn to know who had just entered the room.

—Good afternoon, my dear staff— Alastor announced, voice dripping in bright, old-fashioned cheer. —What a positively electric atmosphere we have today.—

All that noise, that chaos, the things that made everyone else’s skin crawl… for you they were gasoline on a fire already burning behind your ribs. But Alastor’s voice? His presence? It slid through your irritation like cool water.

Your breathing eased without permission.

Angel continued singing. Husk groaned. Charlie rushed by with papers flying out of her hands. Yet none of it grated the way it had a second ago. Not while he was here.

Alastor approached the counter with his usual confident stroll, cane tapping lightly against the floor. He leaned slightly toward you, enough for you to feel the subtle static radiating from him.

—You seem tense— he said softly, almost kindly. —Is everything all right?—

Normally, that question from anyone else would have irritated you beyond belief. But from him it felt grounding.

—I’m fine— you muttered, though your shoulders slowly relaxed. —Just… everyone is loud today.—

His grin widened. —Ah, yes. Chaos does have a way of accumulating in this establishment. Fortunately, I find such disorder rather charming. But you, it seems, do not.—

He tilted his head, studying you with that unreadable delight of his.

—You persist, nevertheless. Admirable.—

Your cheeks warmed in a way you refused to acknowledge.

Behind you, Angel dropped something glass, which shattered spectacularly. You flinched, until Alastor casually raised a hand. The static in the air thickened and the sound muted as if the room had been wrapped in cotton. You blinked, startled.

—I thought you might appreciate a moment of quiet— he said.

There were no mocking undertones. No teasing. Just that eerily cheerful sincerity of his.

You let out a slow breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. —Thank you.—

He bowed slightly, his grin sharpening. —Anything for my favorite easily ruffled companion.—

You glared at him automatically, and he chuckled, clearly delighted. Something about the way he looked at you made your irritation melt rather than spark.

—I do enjoy watching you try to maintain patience— Alastor said. —You are such a fascinating contrast to all this noise.—

—Is that your way of saying I’m angry all the time?—

—Not at all— he replied, raising his brows. —It is my way of saying that your fire keeps this place interesting. And...— he added in a softer tone, —...that I am uniquely positioned to calm it.—

You swallowed. Heat curled low in your stomach.

—You really do— you admitted quietly. —When you’re around… I don’t feel like I’m going to explode.—

His grin softened, just barely. —Then I shall endeavor to stay close.—

As if on cue, the muted barrier dissolved and Angel’s voice came roaring back in full force. But you didn’t tense. Not this time.

Alastor remained at your side, humming a warm, static-tinged melody. And somehow, despite the chaos of the hotel, the day no longer felt unbearable.

Because he was there.

And that was enough.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

My best friend found my tumblr

(shout out to my pal @stupidalf he has sick art you should definitely check his account)

Anyways my requests are open. Rules here.

[noeluxusno1fan]

How about one where the reader, who is a makeup artist for television, is complimenting on Vincent “Vox” Whittman’s heterochromia eyes while getting him ready?

Vincent "Vox" Whittman X Make-up artist reader one-shot

A/n: I haven't watched season 2 so I was a bit confused when you mentioned Vox's real name hahaha. Anyways my requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

The dressing room lights were always too bright, clinical, sharp, the kind that washed most people out. But not Vincent Whittman.

He sat in the tall chair with the ease of someone used to being watched, one leg crossed over the other, shoulders relaxed beneath the black button-up he insisted on wearing for every interview. His hair was still slightly damp from the rain outside, pieces falling over his forehead.

He looks more like a backstage poet than a public figure, you thought as you swirled your brush into the palette.

—Long day?— you asked, stepping closer.

He smirked. —Long week—

You reached for his chin with the usual professional confidence, tilting his face toward the light.

—Try not to move—

—I’ll behave— he murmured, though his voice held a familiar, teasing warmth.

As you blended the concealer along the angle of his cheekbone, you felt him studying you more than the mirror. He always watched you as if you were the one on camera. But a few seconds later, your brush froze.

His eyes.

One blue, one green.

You worked with actors, anchors, guests from every corner of the entertainment industry, but no one had eyes like Vincent Whittman. Today, under the lights, the contrast was even more striking: the blue eye glinted like ice, the green one deepened like moss after rainfall.

—You know…— you said before your brain could stop your mouth, —your heterochromia is really beautiful.—

A pause. Then his lips curved, slow, deliberate.

—Is that so?—

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were standing.

—Professionally speaking— you clarified, though your voice came out softer than intended. —It photographs incredibly well. Most people would kill for that kind of natural contrast.—

He leaned in just slightly, barely enough for anyone else to notice, but impossible for you to ignore.

—And personally speaking?—

Your brush nearly slipped from your fingers.

—Personally— you said, clearing your throat, —it’s… unique. And memorable.—

His mismatched eyes flicked between yours, as if testing how honest you were being. You felt the weight of his gaze settle warm against your skin.

—No one’s ever described them like that— he said quietly.

—That surprises me.—

—It shouldn’t— Vincent replied. —People stare, sure. But staring isn’t the same as actually looking.—

For a moment, the room fell silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights.

You forced your hand to steady, returning the brush to his cheek to apply a final sweep of powder. —Well— you said, —I look because it helps me do my job.—

His smile widened, soft and dangerously charming. —And here I thought you just enjoyed the view.—

Heat crept to your ears, but you didn’t look away. —Maybe a little.—

Vincent laughed under his breath, a warm, low sound that made your stomach twist. —In that case— he said, leaning back in the chair, —I’ll make sure to book you for all my appearances. Wouldn’t want to deprive you.—

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. —You’re impossible, Whittman.—

—I prefer ‘irresistible.’—

You set down the brush and stepped back. —You’re done.—

He slid off the chair, buttoning his jacket, then paused at the door. For a heartbeat, you wondered if the moment had passed, just another casual flirtation between makeup artist and talent.

But he turned, mismatched eyes catching the light once more.

—Thank you— he said. —For looking.—

And then he was gone, leaving the faint smell of rain and cologne behind, along with the realization that, maybe, he had been looking at you just as closely.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Hi! I’d like to make a request if that’s okay with you! Can you do a Vox x Chubby Female Reader? Maybe a few other Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss characters if that’s okay? I mainly just want Vox. You’re an amazing writer. You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, it’s completely okay. Just a little something I thought would be cute!💕

Vox X chubby reader one-shot

A/n: I think it turned out very cute even though Vox and the rest of the Vees might be a bit ooc. Hope you like it💛💛💛. Anyways my requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

The first time Vox saw you, really saw you, his screen glitched.

It wasn’t dramatic, just a tiny flicker across the corner of his display, like a shy spark of static. But for someone as polished and controlled as the Overlord of technology, even a second of visual distortion was unheard of.

You were sitting in the lounge area of Vox’s recording studio, legs tucked beneath you as you tried to balance a plate of fresh cookies on your lap. Your soft form looked so warm, so inviting, a stark contrast to the cold neon angles that shaped Vox’s world.You didn’t notice his arrival until the cookies wobbled dangerously, one tumbling to the floor.

-O-Oh! Shoot— you reached for it at the same time he stepped forward.

A mechanical hand caught the cookie before it hit the ground.

-Five-second rule- Vox hummed, offering it to you with a pixelated grin.

Your cheeks warmed. -Uh… thanks. Didn’t expect you to care about cookies-

-Please- he scoffed, adjusting his tie. “I care about anything worth good reception. And you—” His screen flickered again, lightly. —seem to have an excellent signal-

You blinked. -Was… was that supposed to be a compliment?-

-Obviously.- He stood there, awkwardly long, as if waiting for something. You offered him a fresh cookie from the plate.

-I made them- you said softly. -You want one?-

Vox wasn’t a big eater, but he took it anyway. Bit into it. His eyes widened a fraction.

-Oh. That’s— Actually good. Like… stupidly good-

You giggled. Your laughter was warm, soft, round in all the ways Vox was not. Something in his circuitry buzzed.Before he could say something flirty (or embarrassingly earnest), the studio door slammed open.

-VOXXXX!!- Valentino’s voice rang through the room. -There you are, baby~ Did you ghost me again?-

Vox’s screen dimmed. -Oh, for—

Velvette peeked past Val’s shoulder. -Is that cookie smell? Hey sweetheart, can I have one?-

You handed her one happily. Velvette smirked. -Damn, you’re adorable. Vox, how come you didn’t tell me you were flirtin’ with a cutie?-

-I— Vox glitched harsher. -I WAS NOT—

-You totally were- Velvette snorted.

Valentino smirked, eyeing you up and down. -She’s cute. Very cute. I didn’t know that was your type-

Vox stepped in front of you so fast it was nearly a digital teleport.

-My ‘type’ is none of your business- he snapped, screen burning red. -And don’t look at her like that-

Your breath caught.

Not because you felt threatened, but because nobody had ever defended you so sharply, so instantly. Especially not someone like Vox.

Velvette raised her hands. -Alright, chill out. Come on, Val, leave them alone-

With some grumbling and dramatic sighs, the two strutted off. As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Vox exhaled heavily, turning back to you.

-I didn’t… scare you, did I?-

You shook your head. -No. Actually — thank you.-

His screen softened. A small pixel-heart blinked in the corner before quickly disappearing.

-I don’t… do that for just anyone- he admitted quietly. -You’re… different-

You bit your lip, feeling heat spread through your cheeks. -Because I’m…?-

He looked you over, not the way Valentino had, but like you were something warm in a room full of cold metal.

-Because- Vox said, tone unusually gentle, -you make my system run loud. In a good way. Like the static is… comforting-

You stepped closer, heart fluttering. -You can sit with me, if you want. I’m making more cookies later-

Vox paused, something flickering, soft and shy on the edge of his display.

-I’d like that-

He sat beside you, stiff at first, then letting his arm rest behind you on the couch. You leaned against him, your softness meeting his sharp angles. His screen dimmed to a faint blush-blue glow.

For a moment, just one, the Overlord of technology let himself relax.

And if his display glitched again when you smiled up at him…

Well. That was nobody’s business but his.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Could you do a platonic gen z overlord reader for Hazbin, going over their relationships with the other overlords and maybe some of the shenanigans they've gotten into? They like to get under people's skin if they don't like them, but occasionally they'll actually respect one of the other overlords like Zestiel. Just depends on what kind of person they're interacting with, they'd probably hate the Vees so they'd bully them constantly lmao. If they don't have a reason to bother someone though, they won't so it's not like they're constantly picking on all of them.

Sorry if this is a bit vague. Thanks for your time!

Gen-Z overlord reader one-shot

A/n: Hope you like it💛💛💛. Anyways requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

The meeting of the Overlords had barely started and you were already regretting waking up this morning. The room was full of ancient demons, all powerful, terrifying, and, honestly, kind of dramatic. And there you were: the youngest Overlord in Hell, the one who climbed the ladder faster than anyone thanks to the same thing that killed you.

Social media.

Even in Hell, your account was blowing up. You had a whole fanbase made of sinners who thought your chaotic videos were “relatable” and “valid.” If they knew you scammed your fans with a fake digital coin when you were alive? Some did. They still followed. Clout was clout.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, looking perfectly bored as Zestial spoke. He always got the floor first because he was old, powerful, and, something you actually respected, totally uninterested in petty beef. You never disrespected him. In fact, you kind of liked him. He reminded you of that one teacher who didn’t treat you like an idiot.

And then Velvette arrived.

She didn’t walk in. She exploded into the room like a glitter bomb that hated everyone.

-Ugh, did we really need a reunion today?- she snapped, eyes rolling so hard they practically spun. -Half of you smell like you died before deodorant was invented.-

A few Overlords glared. Someone hissed. Someone else tried to pretend they were too important to care.

You sat up straight, jaw tightening.

Velvette didn’t bother to look at you. -And you, little social-media-wannabe- she sneered, -how does it feel copying my whole aesthetic?-

You smiled sweetly. -I don’t know, Velvette. How does it feel being threatened by someone ten thousand followers ahead? Must be rough-

The older Overlords tried not to laugh. Some failed.

She glared daggers. -You’re only relevant because of teens with brain rot-

-And you’re only relevant because Vox pays bots to boost your numbers- you shot back. -We all have our things-

Vox’s eye flickered like a glitch about to bite someone. Valentino choked on a laugh. You turned just enough to smile at him with that “try me” look. He shut up real quick.

You didn’t like the Vees. Any of them. Vox thought he was superior because he had a built-in screen. Valentino was a walking red flag wrapped in toxic masculinity and cheap cologne. Velvette was… Velvette.

So you bullied them. Professionally. Elegantly. Consistently.

Last week you hacked Vox’s broadcast to replace his face with a PowerPoint presentation titled “Why You Should Touch Grass.” He was furious for days.

Two days ago you convinced Valentino that everyone could see his search history scrolling above his head like a halo. He panicked and stayed home.

Yesterday you greeted Velvette by calling her “Grandma Glitter.” She threatened to strangle you with her purse strap.

But today? Today was different.

Today she was insulting Zestial.

You slammed your hands on the table. -Hey. Don’t talk to him like that-

Velvette blinked, surprised you’d stepped in. Zestial looked at you with one raised brow, like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or concerned.

-You’re all so sensitive- Velvette scoffed.

-I’m not sensitive- you said. -I just have a thing called manners. You should Google it. Oh wait—Vox probably blocked the word.-

A couple Overlords snorted.

-And besides- you added, -Zestial actually respects others. You? You treat people like props.-

Velvette stepped forward, lip curled like she was about to start something. You stepped forward too, phone already out.

-One more step and I’m livestreaming this- you warned.

She froze.

You smirked. -Thought so-

She stormed to her seat, muttering curses under her breath. Vox glitched angrily. Valentino sulked. And you leaned back again like nothing happened.

Zestial cleared his throat and continued the meeting, but you noticed the slight nod he gave you. Respect earned. Not from everyone, of course. Some Overlords still didn’t know what to make of you. Some thought you were annoying. Some thought you were harmless.

But they all learned one thing today:

You didn’t pick on people just to pick on them.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

[noeluxusno1fan]

Me seeing that a one-shot that I published earlier this afternoon of a character that I love got 4 notes (2 of them mine) while a one-shot that I wrote and didn't like has over 130 notes.

Anyways thank you so much for the support, this is of course humor don't take it seriously. Thank you so much for reading my writings.💛💛💛

If you didn't know my requests are open, don't be shy and leave your request. Rules here.

(Artist of the picture in the photo)

[noeluxusno1fan]

Can I make a request for Charlie's sister basically beginning to treat Niffty as a daughter? Maybe the reader is also in a relationship with Alastor that Lucifer isn't too happy about for obvious reasons.

Alastor X Morningstar reader one-shot

A/n: Hope you like it. There are no spoilers for season 2 because I haven't watched it yet, so it's safe to read. Anyways requests are open. Rules here.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

You remembered how, when your sister Charlie first talked about opening a hotel in Hell to help sinners change and maybe go to Heaven one day, you had sighed inside. Even though you were the younger sibling, you often acted like the adult. Charlie was bright, hopeful, and full of dreams. You were realistic and practical. You knew that people in Hell weren’t there by accident. They had whole lives to change, and they didn’t. So why would a hotel suddenly fix everything? You weren’t sure.

Still, you loved Charlie more than anything. After your mother disappeared without a trace and your father fell into depression, it was just the two of you. Charlie dreamed, and you helped make those dreams real. You also took a lot of your father’s work so Hell wouldn’t fall apart. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to support Charlie. You did. But your responsibilities kept you away more than you liked. Charlie understood and never complained. She wanted to be independent, and she felt guilty that she was only following her dream because you were taking care of the duties that should have been hers.

One day, after a long day full of work, you got a call from one of your subordinates telling you that your father was at Charlie’s hotel. Your father, leaving the house? Not since your mother vanished. Something had to be very wrong. You rushed there as fast as you could.

When you arrived, the sign above the entrance was different. The “Happy Hotel” was now called the “Hazbin Hotel.” That was strange, but what you saw inside was even stranger.

The lobby was a complete mess. Your father was in the middle of a singing battle with Alastor, the Radio Demon himself. Yes, that Alastor. The powerful overlord with the old-fashioned voice and constant smile. Mimzy was making even more chaos nearby, turning the whole place into some kind of bizarre show.

You stood still for a moment, arms crossed, and watched everything unfold. When things finally calmed a bit, you clapped loudly. Everyone froze and looked at you.

-What a show- you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. -Seriously… what kind of circus did you all turn my sister’s hotel into?-

Charlie ran to you, surprised but happy. She started to introduce you to everyone, but your father interrupted. He told you and Charlie that he had arranged a meeting for her with Adam to discuss Hell’s situation. That meant Charlie had to leave for a while. And that meant the hotel was now your responsibility.

You looked at Charlie and felt the weight settle on your shoulders. You nodded a little. -Alright. I can handle it.-

The next weeks were intense. You became more than just the hotel’s manager. You became the person holding everything together the way Charlie usually did.

One of the first challenges you faced was Nifty, the tiny energetic maid. She moved so fast it was hard to keep up. She climbed into places she couldn’t get out of, tried to fix things she barely understood, and sometimes fought with guests when she got overwhelmed.

So you kept an eye on her. You didn’t mean to become a parental figure, but you did. Nifty opened up to you fast. She told you about demons she liked or silly crushes she had. She rambled, and you listened. You tried to guide her, even if she didn’t always understand everything you said. But she trusted you, and sometimes she surprised you with how much she actually noticed.

Your growing closeness with her didn’t go unnoticed.

One evening, while you were sitting at the bar checking the hotel’s accounts, Alastor sat next to you. His red suit was spotless, his monocle shining under the dim lights. That fixed smile of his hid so much more than it showed. Power. Brilliance. Something old and always hungry for entertainment.

He watched you quietly at first, studying you. There was no cruelty in his gaze, just curiosity. You spoke honestly with him, like someone who understood work, responsibility, and the darker truths of Hell.

You discovered that the two of you shared the same beliefs about sinners and redemption. Alastor hadn’t joined the hotel because he believed in helping anyone. He joined because he found the idea amusing. But when he talked to you, he seemed… different. He listened. He respected you. He challenged you in ways that felt sharp but strangely sincere.

Your friendship grew slowly. You didn’t fall in love right away, and neither did Alastor. He wasn’t the type to fall easily. But there were quiet nights in the parlor where the two of you talked for hours. He would sip his old-fashioned drink, and you would tell him about the day. Sometimes you even laughed at his old radio jokes. And sometimes you caught him looking at you without the forced smile, almost soft. Almost honest.

Lucifer hated it. Charlie tried to hide her concerns, but you could see them. People whispered warnings. They told you Alastor was dangerous, unpredictable, someone who didn’t get close unless he had a reason. And if he was manipulating you… what then?

But you couldn’t deny what you felt.

Meanwhile, your bond with Nifty grew stronger. She wasn’t like Alastor. She needed structure and affection. She needed someone to guide her. You became that person naturally. You helped her focus, turning her wild cleaning into something she could feel proud of. You praised her when she did well and corrected her when she needed it. When she felt lonely or sad, she came to you. She held your hand and talked about the things she didn’t understand. You comforted her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

Alastor noticed. He wasn’t usually affectionate, but with you and Nifty, he acted differently. He protected her in his own quiet way. Sometimes you saw him watching the two of you with something warm in his eyes, something he didn’t show to others. Something like… family.

You started to realize that you weren’t just taking care of Charlie’s hotel. You were building something else. Something meaningful. Something that felt like your own.

You didn’t know how your father or sister would react if they knew how deep your feelings for Alastor ran. Maybe they were right to worry. But you also knew this: you weren’t just filling in for Charlie. You were becoming part of the hotel in a way you never expected.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •