Alastor has made good on his end of the deal, barely.
TWs: There's a decent amount of wounds and pain being described. Vox and Val are creeps. Alastor is mean. You know the drill.
This chapter feels so short, but it also feels like I put too much shit in there? Idk anyways. I love you, thank you for reading my nonsense.
PART 1
❤️📻
You're wrapped tightly in Vox's cables as he zaps you both back to his office. The window is already replaced. You are already replaced, too.
"Hey, you!" He yells at his new grunt. "Cancel all my meetings today. Clear my schedule, I'm gonna make this last." He laughs sadistically and all you can think about is how many souls you've watched him toss to the shark just for sneezing wrong.
Your arms are bound tightly by your sides and a bundle of cords covers your mouth, muffling your pleas for mercy. He only shakes his head and laughs and it sends a chill up your spine.
"Do you understand what you took from me today?" Vox's grip gets tighter. "I sure hope whatever he promised you was worth your life." And tighter. You strain under the pressure, preparing for the unimaginable pain of your body crumpling in on itself. The TV demon opens a hand in front of you and wraps it around your throat, sending a horrible electric shock through your body. You let out one loud scream of pain and suddenly, the entire room begins to fill with green-glowing black smoke.
"Took yo-u lon-g eno-ugh--" you wheeze out with your last breath before knocking out completely. Vox and Alastor have it out, and you only catch small glimpses. All you can gather is the Radio Demon is far more powerful than you realized. You're truly unsure how you survived the carnage when you open your eyes in your room at the hotel. You sit up in shock, horrified and gasping for air as if you're still being squeezed. You feel all over yourself, realizing your arms are free. All you can feel now is the soreness. "Oh, fuck. My back..." You lie back down, breathless.
"A 'thank you' would be nice, or so you say," Alastor crackles from the shadows.
"You weren't supposed to let them hurt me. This hurts pretty fucking bad." You throw a small pillow into the darkness, dispelling the smoke just for it to swirl back around and materialize as Alastor.
"Unfortunately, my dear, I'm no fortune teller. I couldn't tell you were in trouble until you were hurt. That's what the deal is for." You recall the way he explained how useless the Vees' promise of protection would be if you couldn't call them. You couldn't call Alastor, but as soon as Vox electrocuted you, he had to be summoned.
"You don't have to be in my room right now, and you are, the minute I wake up. That's fucking peculiar." You sit up, wincing as you do. "So how did you miss it when he bolted in here with lightning, stole me, and then teleported with more lightning?" You scold. "He blew up my fucking TV!"
"Let me rephrase. I didn't have to help until you were hurt." He tilts his head, eyes crescent-shaped with strangely placed joy.
"Fuck you. Thanks." You huff. "You can leave now." You wave him off as you carefully turn to get out of bed. Nothing's broken, so you give a good stretch and try to work away the soreness. Alastor remains, circling you as you rummage through your clothes, looking for pajamas so you can sleep restfully.
"Oh, I guess I can't be too hard on you. I got your note, after all." Alastor holds your "thank you" note in front of him before it bursts into a tiny flame and falls to ashes. "You're welcome, though this place looks no less tacky than your old abode."
"Yeah, when I need a lot more... Red, I'll give you a call." You roll your eyes. "I can't imagine what a relic like you calls interior design."
"Am I old to you, dear? What year did you die?" He continues to slowly make his way around you, as if cornering you like prey. You don't notice until he's much closer to you.
"'86," you say flatly, looking him up and down, wondering where he gets off invading your personal space like this.
"1986, how fascinating," he says, toying with your hair. You tense up. He's trying to get in your head; mess with you the way Vox and Val did. He moves in closer, wrapping his fingers around your shoulders, digging his fingertips into your flesh through your shirt. His chest is fully pressed to your back and when he glances in the small mirror on your dresser, he expects to see that same disgusted, uninterested expression you gave to Val, but... You're blushing intensely. He blinks twice in confusion and then bursts into taunting laughter.
"Oh...? Oh, fuck!" He manages to talk between gasps for air. He continues laughing, stepping away from you entirely and while you don't particularly care about his personal opinion of you, this does not give you the upper hand.
"Fuck off," you groan, dragging your hands down your face. You can hardly hear yourself over his boisterous laughter.
"It was just unexpected, is all," he says, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye as he sighs away the last of the laughter.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself. You're the third person to touch me in 41 years. All you did was creep me out less than Vox or Valentino." You snatch the nightclothes out of the dresser and slam the drawer. "Which is not an impressive or difficult thing to achieve."
"Touch starved, are we?" He can't relate. While he doesn't mind physical contact, he definitely prefers to be the one initiating. The one in control of the interaction.
"Wouldn't you like to know," you huff. You toss your pajamas on the bed and reach for the hem of your shirt. "You gonna stand here and watch?" You ask, not giving him much time to reply. His smile warps at the corners and he's gone before the shirt is past your midriff. "That's what I thought."
When you fall back asleep, sore, but in softer clothing, you can't stop the night terrors of Vox and what he has planned for you. He hasn't given up on Alastor in almost 70 years, you know he won't drop squishing someone as small and powerless as you. You wake up over and over through the night. Sometimes with a harsh gasp, and sometimes with a short yelp. Every dream is the same, and they pick up where they leave off like a paused video.
You're strapped to a chair with your head held securely facing a large screen. Vox's face appears. His expression is dark and wicked, no manipulative smile to be seen.
"You think you're safe at that fucking hotel?" He laughs in disbelief. "Do you think I will ever stop coming for you?" Your eyes are held open by tiny, painful metal arms. "You're gonna wish you'd just signed the fucking contract. You were never valuable enough to let you run around without a leash, you fucking cunt!" His anger sends you into a panic, but you can't move from the chair.
"I--" your words are cut off like you've been muted. Your mouth moves, but there is no sound.
"I hope Alastor enjoys his new fucking burden, because neither of you will know a single fucking moment of peace if I have anything to do with it!" He begins showing you several photos of your own dead body, mutilated in various ways. From behind the screen, several more cords shoot toward you incredibly fast, stabbing through your chest. You scream, but it's silent.
"NO!" You scream aloud, sitting up in your bed. Your arms thrash for a moment, but you quickly calm down when you realize you're awake. You begin to catch your breath, but only to gasp again when you flip the lamp on and see Alastor standing beside your bed. "For the love of- What are you doing in my fucking room?" You yell, already on edge and nearly shaking after that jumpscare.
"Well, someone's a little detail oriented, so I'm here because I agreed to defend you from psychological torture as well as physical." Alastor narrows his eyes. "So what was that little dream about?"
"But that was just a dream. That was a dream, right? That wasn't--"
"Would I be here if you were having bad dreams," he says in a mocking, childish voice. "Or would I be here because our deal has been breached? Let's find out!" Alastor tosses his hands up in faux excitement.
"Fuck you," you hiss, trying to steady your breathing. How is Vox inside your brain? What is he able to tap into to be able to do that? Your mind swims and all you can see when you close your eyes are the various deaths Vox showed you in your dream. "How can he be fucking with my dreams?" You ask Alastor, desperately.
"You poor fool," he coos, sitting on the edge of your bed. "Did you really think you got some free pass from Vincent of all people?" He laughs. "You really aren't all you're cracked up to be, are you?"
"Shut the fuck up for a second, what do you mean? A free pass? Stop talking like that. What's happening to me?" Your desperation and fear are absolutely delicious to Alastor, but just this once, he takes a sort of bored pity.
"Stand up, my dear." He rises from the edge of your mattress, walking to the center of the large room. You follow him, standing in front of him obediently. This is what they use against you. Fear guides you all too easily. He takes mental note of every little change in your personality when you're afraid. Walls come down that should be going up. You don't fight or flight, you only freeze and bend and break. That's why it took you so long to act when security was closing in.
"What are you going to do?" You ask as Alastor twirls his cane in his hand. With a hard tap on the ground, his staff summons a gaseous mass of blackness. You don't have time for any more questions before the mist forces itself into your lungs from your nose and mouth. Instantly, you cannot control your body. You're not even the only one who can use your eyes. You're a sitting, paralyzed bystander while Alastor takes over your being.
You can see him, still standing across from you, looking into your eyes that you're sharing with him. You can't imagine what a mindfuck that is. He closes his eyes, which makes yours close too and then his laugh cackles from your lips before the mist is dispelled and he's returned to his side of existence.
"What the fuck was that?" You ask, looking at your hands to confirm you can control them again.
"You may have kept your soul from the Vees, but your innards tell a different story." Alastor states that as if he's solved a silly mystery board game.
"My innards? Like my organs? What did he do to my organs?" You're becoming hysterical. The Radio Demon rolls his eyes, grabbing you by your shoulders.
"Calm down, your organs are... Well, we'll discuss that later. For now, this is what's disrupting your sleep." He moves your hair out of the way and taps on the back of your neck. There's something hard under the skin.
"How did I not notice that?" You scratch at it fervently. "Get it out of me!"
"Are you sure that's what you want?" Alastor raises an eyebrow, hopeful.
"Yes! Please take this thing out of me," you beg, grabbing him by the front of his jacket. He's amused by how different you are right now compared to when you first arrived. So small, so desperate.
"Have a seat," he says. "And I hope you don't mind if these clothes get a little... Stained." He snaps his fingers and a knife appears. One he holds in high regard, as it was his weapon of choice when he was living. You take a seat on a stool in front of him and he doesn't hesitate. The tip of the knife breaks through your skin and his eyes begin to glow as he carves. You let out a cry of pain and for some reason, the constraints of his deal with you tug at him. You quickly cover your mouth as you endure. Tears stream down your face, but you manage to keep a decent volume.
For just a moment, he swears he catches a glimpse of your face sporting the exact same starry-eyed expression as when he made you blush when he was trying to creep you out. His pupils shrink and his eyebrows knit together in concern and surprise. He refocuses on the task at hand, relishing in the blood coating his hands.
Alastor's smile is wide and sadistic as he pries the device out of your neck. You sob in pain as it tears from your meat and again, he can feel the chains. It's a little square, smaller than your palm. It looks like a microprocessor from a circuit board, but with a hundred little legs on all sides, meant to sink into your flesh. A small screen illuminates with Vox's confused face and you can hear him asking a scientist why that screen is visually active when it's supposed to be in your neck.
"Haha! Nice try, Vincent! But you'll have to try harder than that!" You hear Vox begin to rage before Alastor squeezes his palm shut and turns the device to dust that falls to the floor. He then turns his attention to you, and the blood gushing down your spine. His expression is dark as he approaches you and dips his fingers into the flowing crimson. He rubs his thumb against his fingers, spreading your life around on his fingertips.
"Alastor..." You whisper before falling off the stool and into the floor. It is then that he notices how large the puddle of blood in the floor is.
"Oh, dear. What a mess," he sighs. With an indifferent wave of his hand, his shadowy tendrils lift you from the ground. Alastor uses his abilities to stitch your flap of flesh back in place with bright green stitches. That's about all he cares to do, though he is kind enough to have the shadows lay you on your bed. Right before he's about to dissolve into his own room, he stops to look at the blood one more time. He tilts his head, wondering if he was paying attention to how badly it hurt compared to how much fun he was having. Oh well, at least you were tough.
***
The next morning you wake up screaming, not because of nightmares, but because you're in excruciating pain and your entire hotel room looks like a murder scene. You peel yourself away from your bedclothes as the dried blood adheres the fabric to your skin. You even have to start your shower fully clothed, because it'd be too painful to remove them otherwise.
"Ow, fuck!" You yelp as your hand grazes the stitches. You want to be livid, but you're just relieved. It could've been the blood loss, but you didn't dream of Vox at all after the procedure. Once you're all washed up, you patch up the stitches with gauze and actually treat it like a healing wound. The bedclothes are ruined, so you toss them out entirely. You spend the better part of the morning scrubbing away at the giant dried red puddle on the floor. You're still light headed, but decide to go have a drink once you're all done anyways.
"Are you already drunk?" Husk asks, pouring your drink.
"No, no. I just... Lost a lot of blood recently." Husk and Angel both look at you with wide, concerned eyes. You glance back and forth between them, confused.
"Riiight..." Husk says, unsure how to respond to what you've said.
"Should you be drinking if you've lost a lot'a blood?" Angel asks.
"I should be fine. If anything, I'll get more drunk for less." You turn the glass up.
"I super don't think that's how that works." Angel shifts uncomfortably. Suddenly, Alastor appears on the barstool next to you. You jump, but you're also too tired to feel anything.
"You can't possibly be drinking already! You're supposed to help with book keeping. Wasn't that in our deal?" Alastor cranes his neck.
"Not technically, no. But I am dying to have something to do around here." You finish the first drink, just to be polite. "Lead the way," you blink expectantly at the so-called host. He rolls his eyes, annoyed, but does in fact lead the way. "I didn't get to thank you for last night."
"Oh, for nearly bleeding you dry like a pig in a slaughter house?"
"Mind your fucking wording, asshole." You sneer. "I guess I forgot how much you suck."
Alastor ushers you to a disorganized office where Vaggie looks like she's ready to put a gun in her mouth. After Alastor fucks off, you walk inside and guide Vaggie out the door, closing it behind her. Once it's just you and the work, you enter a state of Nirvana.
Alphabetizing, organizing, making spreadsheets. It's the closest thing to Heaven you'll experience in Hell simply because you know how to do it and it keeps you busy. It's easy, time consuming work and that alone makes the days more bearable. Though, this place is a lot nicer than V-Tower. Not in architecture, but in morale. There's less to run from here.
You spend hours upon hours in this office and accidentally stumble upon several ways to save money that can be put toward Charlie's theatrical trust exercises and redemption speed runs.
"Y/N, this is amazing!" Charlie squeals when you show her your work. "I mean, I'm the Princess of Hell, so money wasn't ever an issue, but," she speaks extremely fast through that part. "Just wow!"
"Anything you're looking for can be found by searching within the spreadsheet using control F, that way you don't have to guess which of the 4,000 names in section A are who you're actually looking for." You can't help but feel a sense of pride. "It's all in alphabetical order and then numbered within each letter. Let me know if you have any questions!" You beam. Vaggie looks like she could cry.
"Thank you, Y/N. We're so happy to have you here," Charlie says, pulling you into a tight hug that you don't love, but you endure.
"Is there anything else you need? I can convert everything paper to digital and vice versa, but that'd be kind of stupid. But I can do it." You narrow your eyes. "I'll fuckin' do it."
"It's getting late. You should get some rest soon. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" Vaggie says as she and Charlie head off to the stairs. You had no idea so much time had passed. The light, no sunlight, but that pentagram in the sky, dims in the window as night falls. You tenderly brush the back of your neck, realizing you probably should've cleaned this and tended to these bandages hours ago. You head toward the stairs and Alastor appears next to you, walking in sync.
"Very impressive secretary work today, sweetheart. Maybe next you can count the paper clips for us!"
"I'm not a secretary, I'm a guest at your hotel you're supposed to be hosting. You're shit at your job, by the way." You cross your arms. "And I did all of that on, like, half a body's worth of blood."
"How's that neck of yours, anyway?" he asks, laughing at you.
"Kind of a hack job, but I appreciate the stitches." You shrug.
"I'm no surgeon. And besides, you were crying and complaining so much, you could hardly sit still," Alastor scoffs. "The stitches were necessary otherwise I technically would have killed you. And that--"
"Goes against our deal. Insane that I almost didn't add that in there." You shake your head, amused. "I'm going to clean this wound and go to sleep. Please, for the love of all, just knock on my door if something calls you to my room. Do not appear in my darkest corner and wait for a lamp to come on."
"No promises," he whispers as he melts away into a shadow that disperses into nothing. You sigh, continuing to your hotel room. Once you're inside, you stand in front of the mirror and carefully remove your bandages. They're gnarly. Once the stitches are clean and rewrapped, you get dressed for bed. Tonight is the real test. Were those horrific dreams from Vox a manifestation of your fear, or a real message transmitted into your brain. Which answer would be less unsettling? You shake the anxiety from your mind and lie down, forcing your eyes closed in the dark, quiet room. Alastor, on the other hand, is letting his thoughts linger a little too long on the blush and bitten lip of your expression as he first drove the knife into your skin.
***
Back at V-Tower, Vox is losing his mind. He paces his office enraged, he can't understand this seemingly random alliance you've formed with his rival. He's going on and on about what he'd do to the two of you if he could just get his hands on you. Alastor especially. You're more of a bug in the corner to him.
"Why the fuck is he protecting her? She's nothing!" He slings all the papers and pens off his desk and they flutter into the floor. "He might not be the easy target she is, but so help me God, when she's done I am going to skin that fucking deer!"
"We still have the kill switch, babes. There's no need to plot and crash out." Velvette says, popping her gum.
"The kill switch! Velvette, you're a fuckin' genius!" The TV Demon's mood flips dramatically.
"As much as I'd prefer to have fun with it--" Velvette starts, but he cuts her off.
"Oh, I'm going to have fun with it, Vel. So much fucking fun."
You died by your father choking you out in your sleep. Apparently he thought you were the devil himself as you were emotionally unstable. You couldn’t feel emotions but only pain from your peers and the person who you should trust. A person who is suppose to take care of you.
As you walk around hell, a few demons look at you confused to see a child at the age of 8 walking around. You stumble against a leg of a black boot. With a little “ump” you look up rubbing your head to see the man of hell himself, Lucifer.
Before you know you it, you got adopted by the man as he could sense no sinful aura around you. He knew it couldn’t be possible for a youngster to be in hell. He could see your cold eyes that you didn’t know how to feel. So being the duck obsessed man, he made you multiple rubber duck that resemble you and him like a family. He even made you a rubber duck that glows in the dark just incase you don’t like the dark. 
YOU LAY THERE holding the big rubber duck that glows a soft golden light as you snore and nuzzle it. Lucifer peaks through your bedroom door to see you snuggling the duck he made you. He smiles at that putting a hand to his heart. “Such a cute little duckling I have” he says to himself watching you peacefully. He closes your bedroom door as he walks to his workshop to make you more ducks to your liking.
One time you had slapped a rubber duck out of his hands making him pout but make you another as you still slapped it out of his hand. He sighed giving up looking down defeated, but he felt a small figure hug him to only see you hugging him. He guessed he was the one you liked to hold at times.
Charlie absolutely loves you! She finds you hard to talk to, but she makes an effort as you grow close to her as she is protective of her. She likes how you show affection through actions than words as it is said, “actions speak louder than words” and you stuck by it. She shows you around the hotel and the hotel staff loves you. Alastor and Lucifer fight over dad figure even though it’s clear you Love Lucifer more than Alastor which makes Lucifer pick you up and shove you in the radio demon’s face with a smug smile as he laughs at him.
“HA HA MY KID LOVES ME THAN YOU! SUCK IT!”
One time though, you were kinda cautious of the powerful man of hell himself as he tried to talk to you after it’s been a week. He didn’t know why you flinched from him with a dead stare. He soon realized you didn’t overcome your past of now. He sighs as he heard a tiny voice towards him.
“Why do you care for me?” You said in a soft voice as you fidget with your hands
Lucifer eyes widen at your cute little voice. He cleared his throat as he cups his hands together looking at you seriously.
“Because I don’t want to mess up again.” He says towards you
That was the last he said to you as y tears seep through your long lashes as you hold the rubber duck he gave you when you first came into his palace. And that’s all it took for you and him to grow close with another.
I watched the newest eps of hazbin hotel yesterday so im gonna do the same thing i did last time and show off all the screenshots i took and my reactions
(part 1 bc i have to many screenshots)
SPOILERS AHEAD
this i so funny to me because i have been consuming so mush fan art of this exact interaction happening lol
OMG VOX BACK STORY LETS GOOO
hes so stupid omg 😭😭😭
why is that the picture he has for her 😭😭😭
GET MUTED STUPID DUMBASS BITCH
i got spoiled on how he got out of his deal T^T im so upset
its was such a cool scene tho
yes alastor beat his ass
yes velvette BEAT HIS ASS
YES VAL BEAT HIS ASS
BALD BALD BALD BALD 🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲🧑🦲
