Hazbin hotel soulmate AU where you and your soulmate can both share each other’s pain.
Growing up, you never cried from any phantom pain at all, and when you were taken to the doctor, tests said that you were one of the 0.001% that had a soulmate who was already long dead by the time you were born. This kind of ruined your life. Everyone else had someone, and you were stuck with someone you’d never even know. You got bullied a lot for being the outlier.
However, one benefit is that you were always able to get into a ton of fights. Sure it resulted in a bunch of shady stuff that got you killed, but you didn’t have it in you to care. No soulmate, no reason to live like you’re made of glass. The doctors at your local hospital knew you by name and practically reserved a room for you.
So when you ended up in Hell, it terrified you when pain shot through your arm and you’d done nothing. You guessed that because you were as dead as your soulmate, you two could feel each other’s pain.
You told this to one of your friends from the gang you’d joined, and she’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head before laughing.
“Oh, Y/N. No, the scientists got it wrong because Heaven and Hell exist. If only one of you is alive, the dead soulmate will still feel it.”
Ah. You’d lost quite a bit of empathy being down here, but you still felt kinda bad for your soulmate. You’d caused them a lot more injuries than they’d ever made for you.
Eventually, you would meet them for the first time. The bond snaps into place as you two stare at each other. You’re left speechless - but your soulmate speaks before you can even process what’s going on.
“You.” They point a finger at you in total shock and outrage. “What the hell is wrong with you, you masochist?! I’ve never met anyone who gets hurt as much as you did! What the fuck?!”
And that’s the very first thing your soulmate ever says to you.
To Alastor, you are pure entertainment. Your devotion amuses him, but it also intrigues him.
You are his "Eternal Listener," the only one permanently tuned to his frequency. You are not a servant; you are part of the animated props in his grand theater of horror.
He places you in dangerous or absurd situations to see how you react, as if you were a supporting character in his favorite plot. A "Great performance, darling!" after you miraculously survive a fight is his highest compliment. You are living entertainment.
He watches you crawl to him, with that bright, desperate look for his attention. "Oh, my little creature? Being so… clingy again?"
Alastor finds it deliciously ironic that a soul would cling to him willingly. He turns your devotion into a private joke that only he understands. He sends you on impossible missions with a "Let's see how you do!" and then watches with static laughter as you desperately struggle to please him. Your suffering and dedication are the spice of his eternal boredom.
He never truly pushes you away. He allows you to follow him, sit next to his armchair, or lie at his feet while he plays his music. You are his oddity, a curious specimen he decided to keep.
It's not jealousy, it's a matter of ownership… and after a long time, he grows fond of you.
Listen… He highly values true feelings, and if you truly love him and care for him, he'll put you on a pedestal, like Niffty.
If you sacrifice your life for him, he'll do the same… halfway. You are definitely his favorite; he always emphasizes that.
When you found out about Rosie, you know the deal. You didn't know whether to kill her or treat her with respect. "I mean… do I have to kill her?" "No, Y/N!"
In his fight with Adam, you were supporting him but couldn't protect him. At his radio station, you healed him and blamed yourself for it.
Imagine: Alastor lying on the floor while you clean his wound. "I-I'm so sorry, I should have taken that hit." "Ha, no, no, look at me, don't cry for me." "But, my lord?" "No, give me that beautiful smile, please. It always makes me feel better." You look at him but don't smile, and he kisses your temple. "It's okay, as long as… you're here."
You talk a lot with Husk and Niffty; you're not jealous of them. However, he doesn't know if he likes or dislikes the fact that you put yourself in danger for him; he wants you safe and sound.
When the Vees kidnapped him, you ran into his arms and didn't want to let go. "Y/N is okay, he's okay. Give me that lovely smile, darling." You almost killed Vox after that.
If you defend him or put yourself in danger for him, his smile widens.
"Such… touching loyalty."
(Although secretly, he feels a pang of infernal pride.)
Vox
At first, he considered you just another toy. But then, your obsession began to fascinate him.
He loves you; you're definitely what he was looking for: a loyal follower who doesn't question him and doesn't hesitate to do anything for him. He'll constantly use you to beat Alastor or show off to the other Vees. "Look, Velvette! My pet would do ANYTHING for me. What about yours?" He'll film you taking risks and broadcast it on his channels.
Vox sees your devotion as a marketing tool. You want to risk your life for him? Great, but make sure it's recorded and in high definition. He'll send you on drone missions that broadcast your exploits live. "Make sure the angle is good and tag me!" he tells you before every dangerous mission.
Now you're his darling, always by his side like his loyal pet.
You're his living trophy. His way of "rewarding" you is to give you limited access to his technological world: better monitors, a corner of his studio, mentions in his streams. If you accomplish a particularly risky feat, he'll give you a quick tap on the head, feeling like the best master ever.
You crawl up to his screens, begging him to look at you, and he enjoys making you wait. "So my pet can't go a second without seeing me, huh? How adorable."
He likes having you close during his streams, curled up next to his cables or watching him from the floor.
"So, how's my favorite personal assistant doing?" He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. "Oh, hi boss. I hope you slept well."
You're close to him; he likes you as…as something. He doesn't know what he feels, but you're important to him now. And you've had sex more than once.
Vox becomes competitive and jealous of your affection. He doesn't just show you off to others; he needs the world to know that you're his, completely.
Anyone who tries to touch you or speak rudely to you will be… personally disappeared.
He will show you intense, possessive affection in public. He'll grab you tightly around the waist while introducing you or give you a "kiss" on the head that feels more like a show of dominance for the cameras. In private, he'll reward you with nights in his penthouse or let you spend time in his tech-filled "fun box," feeling like he's given you the world.
Sometimes he's scared of your face when someone talks trash about Vox. "Doll, it's okay, let them talk—" "No, my lord, no one will tell lies about you…only over my dead body."
If you put yourself in danger for him, he'll rescue you immediately. Not out of affection, but because he can't afford to lose his proof of superiority on social media. A loyal, obsessive pet has more media value than a dead one.
Valentino
He thought you were just another bootlicker.
Valentino is used to people groveling before him, but your platonic obsession, combined with your willingness to suffer, is incredibly seductive to him.
He treats you like an accessory, but one he doesn't intend to share.
His "affection" is a mixture of toxic attention and calculated abandonment.
He gives you crumbs of his time, whispers empty promises, and then ignores you for days, knowing that anxiety will consume you. You're a character in the movie of his life, and he enjoys writing your suffering. A "Well done, my dear" said with a caress under the chin might be followed by a brutal slap if he interprets your gaze as not submissive enough.
He always throws you onto the bed with his chain and makes you film countless videos, but something strange was going on… you never stayed; in fact, you were willing to do more… What a desperate whore.
He will demand increasingly humiliating and risky acts of devotion from you, but he will frame it as if it were for "the movie" or "the perfect photo." He will make others jealous of the attention he lavishes on you.
You are his property, in the most literal and terrifying way. Your contract is probably the most restrictive of all. Your obsession amuses him, but it also infuriates him; the idea that someone else might set their eyes on you sends him into fits of violent jealousy.
However, he will not defend you; he will punish you for being "tempting," for making him "waste his time" with his insecurities.
You will receive his most direct (but superficial) attention. He will allow you to sit on his lap, brush your hair, or let you wear one of his silk robes. But you must understand that this "intimacy" is only granted when you have done something that benefits him.
I did notice that you always got possessive with him when another girl approached him. "Aw, baby, don't be mad, Daddy's all yours."
After a long time, he realized that you really wanted him and that you'd become obsessed with him.
"You really love me?… How do you care about me?" You nod euphorically. Val takes a long drag and blows the smoke at you, creating one of his chains. He pulls you close and whispers, "You're so desperate."
He loves watching you crawl towards him, seeking his cologne, his voice, his approval. "Look who's crawling… my adorable little mess."
Valentino's obsession with your devotion becomes a predatory and narcissistic attraction. You're the only person in Hell who's truly obsessed with him, not just with what he can offer.
Now he's gentler with you, letting you lie on his lap while he smokes, absentmindedly stroking you, enjoying how calm you become under his attention.
He'll punish you if you hurt yourself in a way that ruins your appearance. You're an extension of his image, and if you dare to have a wound that makeup can't cover, he'll be furious at your "lack of professionalism."
Velvette
So you're obsessed with her, huh?
Velvet finds your obsession a bit cringeworthy and exhausting, but she recognizes your usefulness as a lackey.
She tests you, exploiting you to the fullest because at first she's not really interested in another crazy fan. After all, she has plenty of them who only seek her out for ridiculous crap.
She'll use you as her personal high-risk assistant. Need her purse off a dangerous ledge? Need you to serve her drink in the middle of a Sinners battlefield? There you are. She doesn't care if you fall, as long as the purse or drink doesn't get damaged.
You don't wait for her to ask you for something. If she has a rival, you're already creating the most toxic memes to bring them down. If she mentions liking something, you've already researched how to get it and planned a spectacular unboxing for her. Your value lies in your creative initiative and your willingness to be cruel online.
Her "affection" is measured in mentions, tags, and shares. A gift from you isn't valuable in itself, but rather for how photogenic it is and the engagement it generates. A gesture of devotion from you is met with a "That's it! The audio is perfect for a reel!" rather than a "thank you." You're a resource for her public narrative of power.
She makes you search for the same things thirty times, carry heavy things: "Hey, I need those boxes in my room, now!" "Yes, yes, boss, right now."
She loves how you go out of your way to please her: putting on makeup, posing, smiling even if you're shaking. "Awww, look at you! So dedicated to your favorite Overlord~"
Until, when she was walking towards the tower, one of her haters was silently about to attack her, and you lunged straight at the hater: "What the hell…?"
After that, she scolded you for being such an idiot, according to her, but then she tended to your wounds.
Imagine: Your boss is scolding you for being so "reckless" while searching for a first-aid kit and leaving you on the couch. You can't stop staring at her with those lovesick, silly eyes.
She exposed that hater to the fullest.
She calls you "my sweet bug" and lets you sleep among her fabrics when she's in a good mood.
If anyone criticizes you, Velvette publicly destroys them in seconds. Nobody messes with her pet.
She constantly records you on her infernal social media. You're her "influencer pet," even though all you want is her approval.
Velvette is surrounded by people. You're not next to her chatting; you're filming her from the best angle, lighting her with your phone so she looks flawless.
Suddenly, a drunken demon approaches her roughly. Before security can react, you've already stepped in front of her with a sweet smile but killer eyes, while your other arm keeps recording vertically. "Honey, you're ruining the shot," you tell the intruder, before he disappears into the crowd. Velvette doesn't even blink; he just adjusts his pose for the camera.
Rosie
Rosie loves devotion. She sees you as a cute little puppy that needs to be pampered and fed. Your obsession is charming.
She appreciates your efforts to win her affection and will "reward" you in kind. If you take a chance on her, she'll seat you at her drawing-room table and serve you the best pieces of her dinner (which you probably won't want to know where they came from).
Reinforce your obsession with kind words. She's a master manipulator. She knows that a compliment from her is worth more than an army. Phrases like "Only you truly understand the importance of keeping up appearances," or "You're my most trusted pair of hands," are the fuel that feeds your fire.
She calls you her "sweet little mouse" and allows you to rest near her armchair.
She gives you a homey warmth. She allows you to cuddle up to her and will let you attend her teas with Alastor or her social gatherings, treating you like a sort of strange niece or nephew. This is the Overlord most likely to give you a genuine pat on the shoulder and whisper, "You're such a sweet little thing."
He doesn't condone your destructive impulses, but he understands them. "My dear, affection isn't earned with wounds. But I appreciate your devotion."
You arrive at his emporium with your arm bandaged and hand him an elegantly wrapped box. "A little gift for trying to spoil your tulips, Mistress Rosie." She opens the box and finds the culprit's pocket watch inside. She smiles. "What a thoughtful young man. Now, sit down, my dear. I've made your favorite cup."
If you put yourself in danger, he'll worry in a strange and twisted way. "Oh, darling, no! Don't ruin such a fine cut of meat with an ugly bruise! Come here, Rosie will patch you up and give you a piece of that silly Sinner who caused you trouble."
He feeds you, he takes care of you, he teaches you manners. You are, secretly, her experiment to test whether affection can survive in Hell.
You don't bring her flowers. You bring her things you think she'll appreciate: a tiny porcelain vase stolen from the ruins of a burned-down palace, the personal journal of a demon who plotted to betray her, or a rare kind of tea you found in an abandoned shop. Each gift is an offering, proof that you think of her constantly.
When she strokes your hair, she murmurs, “So obsessed, so lost… yet still capable of love. What a tragic miracle.”
When a group of intruders threatens Cannibal Town, you're first in line, fighting with desperate ferocity. From her balcony, Rosie watches, a cup of tea in hand, muttering to herself, “Look at him. He's so… devoted. He really breeds the best, doesn't he?”
Missi Zilla (Zeezi)
Missi reacts with a mixture of surprise and amusement to your obsession.
Missi loves it! It's just another thing to consume or manipulate. You're her loyal little servant.
Her affection is real, but in the same way someone loves their cat. She'll pat you on the head (careful not to hurt you with her claws), call you condescending but affectionate nicknames like "My Little Soul" or "My Personal Toy," and sometimes buy you shiny or unnecessary things just to see your ecstatic reaction.
Your pathetic obsession strikes her as adorable and often hilarious. She loves telling you about her exaggerated problems just to see you rage in her defense. "See? Even my pet understands how annoying Vox is. You're so loyal…" she says, chuckling as she watches you whirl around in indignation.
She takes advantage of your devotion. She's pragmatic. Why run her own errands when you're right there, desperate to help? You're her personal messenger, the one who gets her favorite drink from the farthest bar, the one who intimidates her lesser debtors (your obsession with defending her gives you unusual courage), and her biggest fan at her impromptu performances.
You don't see her acts of condescension for what they are. To you, that pat on the head is a divine blessing.
She'll use you as a shield, bait, or food taster quite regularly.
She treats you like a curious creature who's decided to worship her; sometimes she throws you challenges because she's entertained by watching you fight for her attention.
You know EVERYTHING about her. You know her favorite song, the type of energy she most likes to consume, the exact rhythm at which she likes her scaly back massaged, and which other Overlords she despises. You're a living archive of Zeezi.
Even though you're her pet, she's your goddess. If another Overlord, or even one of her servants, pays you too much attention, Zeezi will step in with a menacing smile and a "Hey, hey, that's mine. Find your own toy." Seeing you interact with others irritates her, not out of romantic jealousy, but because it shatters the fantasy that you live only for her.
Zeezi is in the center of the dance floor. You're not dancing; you're on the edge, watching. You reach for her drink the exact moment she extends her hand without even looking. A demon gets too close to her, and you silently step in with a look that promises violence. Zeezi sees you out of the corner of her eye and smiles, flattered.
Carmilla Carmine
At first, she distrusted you, simply thinking you were trying to curry favor and use her. Carmilla is protective and pragmatic. Your risky behavior strikes her as a sign of instability.
She'll keep you at arm's length. She'll only use you for high-risk assignments that don't require emotional connection or critical skills. If you grovel, she'll simply sigh and ask, "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"
You're like a devoted puppy, following her even into war zones. "You again, you little rascal? If you die, I'm not bringing you back to life."
Her affection is shown through professional trust. There are no pats on the back or empty praise. Instead, there's the quiet acknowledgment of assigning you a critical task, or the rare "Well done" after a particularly dangerous mission. To you, those two words are worth more than anyone else's speech.
You learn to anticipate her needs. You don't wait for orders to neutralize a threat. If you sense danger to her, you act. Your value lies not in following orders, but in fulfilling her will before it's even spoken.
But when you rushed to save her daughters without hesitation, she knew that perhaps what you felt was genuine.
She can't stop your suicidal thoughts, so she trains you well, for everyone's sake, haha.
The pinnacle of your existence wouldn't be a hug or a kind word. It would be if, in the midst of battle, she trusted you to watch her back. Or if, in a rare moment of vulnerability, she assigned you the unspoken but sacred mission of "watching over my daughters if I'm not there." That would mean you're more than a servant; you're part of her strength.
Her word is law. Her philosophy of "fighting for love" (to protect) becomes your personal gospel. You fight for your love for her, which manifests itself in protecting everything that is hers: her business, her territory, and, above all, her daughters.
Her greatest sign of affection is teaching you how to defend yourself better. If you insist on putting yourself in danger, she'll show you the proper falling technique or give you an upgraded weapon. She doesn't want your devotion; she wants your survival because waste irritates her.
Her daughters adore you, but they always tease you, "Oh come on, you're in love with Mother, aren't you?" "By Lucifer, girls, stop it, Carmilla might hear."
If you're seriously injured, she'll provide you with the best medical care on the condition that you stop being so foolish. She doesn't want her investment ruined by a "favorite" obsession. Her primary concern is that a weak Sinner around her might pose a risk to her daughters.
Carmilla is in a tense meeting with another Overlord. You're not in the room; you're on the rooftop vigil, with an angelic steel sniper rifle pointed at the guest's head through the window. She knows this, and that's why she can negotiate so calmly. Your devotion is her silent deterrent.
Zestial Morde
Zestial finds it confusing and a little… modern. In his time, loyalty was bought, not offered so recklessly.
It's rare for one of his pets to be so close to him; he always forgets about them. But when you decided to stay close to him like a good girl, he knew you wanted something.
"You don't have to be near me all the time, Little Firefly." "No, Master, I always want to be with you. It's a pleasure." …"Master"—that word had echoed in Zestial's mind as he sipped his tea.
He doesn't flatter or encourage you the way Rosie or Zeezi would. Instead, he observes. Your obsession is a social experiment to him.
He studies you with the same patience he would an ancient text, analyzing the patterns of your loyalty, the limits of your recklessness, and the depth of your adoration. A whisper of "Interesting…" from him is the highest praise you can receive. The former Overlord, despite his initial disinterest, begins to see your devotion as a fascinating connection to the past and a reminder of old-fashioned loyalty.
He sees you as the last vestige of an era. He doesn't possess you physically, but claims you as his vassal of honor, his one true soul he doesn't need to doubt.
He doesn't need to be jealous; his mere presence makes others retreat. You are his possession, like his cloak or his hat. Any being foolish enough to try to harm you or recruit you simply… vanishes.
Zestial never mentions these incidents, but you know it's his doing. It's his way of saying, "No one touches what belongs to me," without uttering a single word.
He lets you sit on his lap; you snuggle up to him like a kitten with its wicked master.
You are very jealous and toxic. You don't like anyone getting near him. You stand between the person and your master. "Stay away from him if you don't want to die." "Firefly, it's fine, he's no danger at all."
Your "random gifts" are not received with joy, but with critical evaluation. You bring him the soul of an enemy, a lost relic, or valuable information. He takes them with his long fingers, examines them in the dim light of his lair, and, if they please him, nods almost imperceptibly. An unworthy gift is simply ignored, which for you is the most devastating punishment.
He will never ask you to risk yourself for him. In fact, he rarely asks anything of you. The beauty of your devotion, in his mind, lies in the fact that all your reckless acts must be your own initiative. If you rush to protect him from a threat, he will simply watch, with his four arms crossed, to see if his "investment" (you) is strong enough to survive. If you succeed, you will have proven your worth.
Summary: When a powerful Overlord, who rules over the alcohol industry and mysteriously went missing from public eye, comes back at the hotel of none other than Charlie Morningstar, how would the other Overlords react?
𖤓 Alastor
• What a delightful surprise to see you at the hotel it is! To be fully honest, Alastor never had the chance to know you that well, you were always such a reserved person, only ever showing your face in the meetings.
• He's curious about what brings you to this place, being away for seven years made your own disappearance also unknown to him, you were shortly after him too. He wastes no time in trying to get closer to you.
• You're nice to chat with, that he will admit, but his friendliness comes from a place of control, you're an unexpected puppet in his little theater of suffering souls, he didn't plan to have you in the picture at all, and he can't risk falling in Charlie's trust ranks, he's keeping a close eye on you.
• It also frustrates him that you're so mysterious about your little vacation, a little hypocrite of him, he'll admit, considering he won't reveal his as well, but the way you're so vague about it, as if you're trying to push his buttons, see how much more forced his smile can become around you.
• There's this unspoken rivalry and unfriendliness aura whenever you two interact but you're both so polite about it no one would notice without thinking they're going crazy.
𖤓 Vox
• Why are you back, you shouldn't be back, he was about to dominate that market as well before your sudden arrival ruined everything, right after Alastor too? You two must be plotting with each other against him, that must be it, why else would this be happening?
• He tries to keep watch over you, he has cameras in every one of his products and drones the fly all over pentagram city, but of course, you and every other Overlord know better than to have any VoxTek technology, so his attempts come to no avail, doesn't help that the old ass hotel doesn't have even the newest TV model either.
• After his… subtle attempts don't work, he'll try and contact you personally, sending his poor secretary over and over again to the hotel with gifts and a letter asking you for a meeting, you caught his cameras hidden on the flowers and food three times before he gave up on those, and maybe that wasn't a good image to sell you into seeing him face to face.
• His annoyance turns into frustration, and frustration turns into obsession. Your constant denial of his advances to start a friendly conversation and maybe even a partnership reminds him way too much of Alastor, you two make a good pair and he hates that even more. At this point he has his drones around the hotel and laughs at every picture he can get of you stepping outside for fresh air, no matter how blurred they are.
• Valentino mocks him and Velvette says it's turning into a Alastor chace 2.0, but he doesn't care, he'll have you at his mercy sooner or later, mark his words.
𖤓 Velvette
• Who are you again? Urgh, she doesn't care, all she knows you are in hell as long as Carmilla and she tasted your wine like once or twice, but she couldn't worry less about you being around, especially if that's making Vox act all worked up.
• What do you mean you're trending on social media? What do you mean you are being more talked about than her newest fashion line release? How fucking dare you.
• She tries stalking you in your social media, but apparently you're a nyandertal and don't even own a phone, how pre-historic are you?? It takes all her self control and Vox lecturing her for her to not start shitting on you online, you're a big threat he says, one that he wants on their side, and calling you bad names is wanting to get in trouble.
• She probably forgets you exist after everyone stops talking about you as much, she can still hear wispers and gossips but you're not on her for you page anymore and that's all she cares about. Still checks from time to time in Vox's room to see if he had any progress in gathering your information.
𖤓 Husker
• He remembers you, and you seem to remember him as well, because the moment you put your feet inside the hotel and sees him at the bar counter, you're smiling and greeting him.
• You two were rather close, having a partnership in the past, you sold your best beverages to him and his multiple casinos, even working as a bartender in some when you felt like it, and he offered you a good amount of money as souls in exchange, he still remembers the busy nights dearly.
• But his Overlord days are long gone, his position now belonging to another greedy bastard, your deal broken by his own greed. He lowers his head when you wave, he's not even half of his former glory, for you to see him in such a pathetic state…
• But you don't come at him with snarky remarks, you don't look at him with judgment in your eyes, you simply sit by the counter and ask for a simple Cocktail, you chat with him like you're just old buddies while he prepares your order, and in a way, you two are.
• He likes having you around, makes the place less lonely.
𖤓 Carmilla
• You two were never close, but she remembers you being in all the meetings she organized, you listened and was polite, raising your hand before speaking and always bringing something useful for the table, so she finds you a pleasant presence.
• When you suddenly go missing, she thinks of the worst, an exterminator got you, the idea of the angelic weapon piercing through your body is not a nice one, but not unbelievable, that would just be a cruel reminder that her daughters could be next.
• But your subordinates don't stop working, your factory keeps on producing and your influence, even if less present, is still in the air. So she knows you're not dead, she may not know where you are, but you're alive.
• Said and done, you come back a few years later, right as the memory about having you sitting in her meeting room seems to be falling into oblivion, there you are again, sitting by the same chair. You look a little different, and act differently too, but you're safe and sound, and that eases her mind.
𖤓 Rosie
• Rosie likes to think you two were friends, even if you rarely went out of your office, you would never deny her invitations for a tea party at Cannibal Town.
• When you suddenly go missing, she almost feels bad for sending Alastor away to part of his little quest, he would've gotten information about your whereabouts in no time. But oh well, she works with what she got.
• When Alastor reports that you've been at the hotel, she wastes no time trying to communicate with you, she sends another formal invitation and just like that, you're in front of her, like you never left.
• Rosie tries making you slip up anything about your trip, she's a smooth talker, and knows how to soften people into revealing feelings and thoughts they normally wouldn't, but you don't falter or stumble in your words even for a moment, as expected from another Overlord, she feels proud.
• Says goodbye with a tight hug and asks Alastor to keep a close eye on you while you're at the hotel.
𖤓 Zestial
• Unlike every other lord in the pentagram, he never once worried about your sudden departure, you two were, let's say, in friendly terms, unlike any others, he wouldn't constantly bother you or come with stupid partnership suggestions, he was calm and soft spoken and you gave back the same energy.
• You warn him about your “break”, you don't tell him much, not even where you're going, but you trust that information isn't leaving his mouth, he promises you it won't, and that he'll keep a close eye on your workers to make sure no one tries anything funny while you're gone.
• Your empire was strong enough to hold itself together, you earned the trust of your souls –even if most still weren't happy you had chains on their necks– and your right hand mans made up for said titles. But even the mightiest of kingdoms still grows weaker without a ruler, and multiple times Zestial had to watch Overlords try to take over your efforts while being able to do nothing about it.
• When you do finally come back, he hears it from Carmilla rather than from you, and still, he lets out a sigh of relief, he knew he shouldn't doubt your person. He makes sure to catch you when he notices you on the streets and greet you back with a hand on your shoulder and a smile, it's always good seeing a friend.
A/N: I'm working on my old asks I promisse, but when the idea comes I have to grab it.
A/N: This one is entirely for my own indulgence because I love Bubble. I am getting through the actual requests, though!
Valentino:
Oh, this dude finds you hilarious. Everything out of your mouth is like rolling a D20 or whatever those nerds call their dice. He has no idea what the fuck you're gonna say at any given moment.
You know that thing where they say bringing Tumblr humor to people not on this site is like going to a country where the money exchange is super in your favor? Imagine that, but even better. Valentino is doubled over cackling whenever you speak.
He also makes sure to give you headpats and tons of affection. You sure do make things more interesting! And your strangely perverted nature makes you a very good demon to bounce ideas off of when he's writing his scripts.
Vox:
Vox is perplexed whenever you speak. He's equally as perplexed by your physiology. How a black censor bar comes out of seemingly nowhere when you curse and conveniently chooses not to on occasion. How you can open your mouth and static comes out.
He's spent so much time trying to figure you out, and he's still confused because there's no logic to it. You just are.
Then again, you're helpful. You can carry things for Vox and plug up leaks. And you'll always affirm his ideas that he already had.
Velvette:
Okay, if any Overlord could understand you, it's Velvette. Even when she doesn't understand you, she pretends to understand you perfectly because it confuses the elderly (Carmilla and Vox). She finds you hilarious, and every word from your mouth is iconic.
She edits you, she puts your face on everything. You are truly an unbothered icon. You two will verbally shitpost at each other at any event. The two of you are absolutely vibing, and Velvette makes sure to keep you around at all times.
Carmilla:
Carmilla does not get it at all. Every time you say anything, you get her closer to her next migraine. She envies you, how easily you go about life. Mind floating, saying anything that comes to mind. You are truly living with none of the burdens that have become inherent to her survival.
But you're very consistent in your inconsistency. That, she can depend on. So, on days where she knows she needs a break, she calls upon you. You never fail to make her smile.
And you're very supportive. Carmilla likes that. Even having someone to listen helps. Somehow, you've become her confidant during difficult nights. But you really must stop saying perverted things during meetings. It's inappropriate.
Zestial:
Intitially, Zestial is a bit taken aback by you. It's not a bad thing, you just aren't what he's used to.
He comes to appreciate you, though. Much like an overenthusiastic pet, he finds himself oddly charmed by your little comments. Does Zestial know what's happening in that head of yours? No. But he respects you all the same for it.
It is true that you are not an especially useful person to have around, but you make him laugh. And perhaps morale is enough of a reason. These sinners need to get more in touch with their silly sides.
Alastor:
Alastor sees you kind of like a nibbling, in the way that he feels this need to take care of you. Have you seen his little shadow guys? Have you seen Niffty? He loves little critters!
You are an absolute delight to him. He'll keep you around for his own entertainment, often prompting your responses just to see what you'd say. In his mind, you're like one of those toys that say different things when you press their tummies.
Sometimes, he'll follow your advice just to piss people off. Alastor knows it's bad advice, but he can't help it. Vaggie hates it, Husk looks like he might die of embarrassment, and Alastor is so incredibly pleased with that.
Rosie:
You know how Rosie is, she's going to be nice regardless. But, she must admit, having you around makes her very happy.
You're very lighthearted, and you don't take things too seriously. She appreciates that, because Rosie likes being happy. Not many in Hell do. But you smile, and it's sincere. That, and you tell jokes for yourself. You don't do it because you want approval, you do it for the love of the game. She likes that.
The jokes, though, she loves. Rosie has never actually met someone with quite your brand of humor, and it delights her every time. She's belly-laughing with everything you say.
You, the War Devil may just be a little too happy with Vox's declaration of War towards heaven
Warnings/Notes: This is the perfect time for this if you ask me - S2 Spoilers - No main ship - Various interactions - Reader has the powers of the War Devil from Chainsaw Man with some changes -
War, it was a concept like death. Old as time. The living were down to repeat it, to never learn from it. And now, the death ones. The ones who had literally nothing to lose too, claimed war. Wanted revenge for the death of their companions. They chanted it, like a song, hungry for angel blood.
What a joke, a good joke you were now laughting at holding your stomach from the top of a building, just right after Vox has declared war towards Heaven.
It was delicious. You could taste it, the upcoming battle. The cries from both sides. And how you desired it.
Just a few hours ago, you were in the living world. Being a Overlord and one who got the War title, moving from realm to realm was easy. You went were you felt the pull of fight. The pull of blood.
And here, right now, a battle that has been cooking for far too long for your liking was going to start.
"Oh Vox" you said, a smile on your face as you cleaned a tear of joy "I may love you"
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
Naturally not everybody was up for the conflict. You found yourself sitted in front of Carmilla, knowing Zestial was also watching.
"War" she adressed you, using your overlord name "If you are here to convince me-"
"Im not, im here because is inevitable and we both- well three know it" you responded too comfortable in your seat even when Carmilla sent you a death glare.
"It was not me who started it" you went on "and i consider it a suprise" you said in a honest tone, for once.
"You knew Angels could be killed" Carmilla acussed and you just faked to look out the window "And yet you kept quiet about it. Why?"
"Oh please, there was no one that crazy to go against heaven. Plus, we know im not the most trusted one" you smirked at her "But then the Princess did all of that, and then Vox happened...well things went down hill fast. And im here, to enjoy it"
Zestial finally did fully appear "You plan on sit back?"
"Oh, maybe i will throw a bomb or two, maybe even a few bangs. But im here to see the battle, the blood, cries, not to power up someone"
"Then, this meeting is over" Carmilla said standing up. She wont say it out loud. But if she had the War's Overlord on her side, then her daughters would be safer. But after so much time, the War Overlord was like she remembers them to be. A psycho, who lives for themselfs.
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
Vox felt a shiver down his spine. He had been dealing with the weapon all day and was alone in his room when the air shifted. He turned to see you sitted on his chair.
The audacity.
"First, you get The Radio Demon, then you conquer the sinners, leave the King in shame and declare a war towards Heaven. Vox you may be my favorite sinner after all of it"
Vox tried to play cool. He knew you could crush him and his plans if he dared to say something to set you off.
"War, you are sounding like is a lot"
"Stop trying to manipulate me with your words. We both know that wont work. I just wonder" you said leaving his chair and going towards him, your form getting taller, shadow expanding. "How did you do it? At the end you are just a TV sinner, a cult leader" you said, not mocking him, just stating facts.
Vox had to bite back a response, he kept his charming smile "Would you really want to know?" He played along for the fun of it.
"Not really. I just want to see it. See the fantastic war you are going to bring to us. I expect nothing but the best, and im sorry for what will happen to you if i dont get fun out of it"
Vox felt fear at your words. He did not expect to get the dam War Overlord now making demands on how a war should go. Maybe he should have expected it, but you were gone for years (like Alastor) and never popped up in Hell till now.
Still, he trusted his plan. And knew he would deliver a big show and go towards Heaven's neck and become god.
"Nothing, but the best for my favorite fellow Overlord" He finally said "You will have to wait and see"
"I will have popcorn ready"
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
"Do you really believe him?"
A voice said as you were leaving. You smirked seeing the Radio Demon reduced to being tied down on a chair.
"That he can win over Heaven? No. Not for a minute. But I love War, and i love seeing a side win and other lose. See them crying for their companions and the Victory at the end"
Alastor gave his signature smile back, his shadow making a show of fainting.
"Always so charming War"
"And I also, want to see what comes next" You teleported right besides him one hand touching his deer ears, getting that twisted look from him "I know the Radio Demon would not put himself in this position. So Alastor, what do you really seek from this?"
Of course he did not respond back and you just smirked before leaving.
The next weeks in hell were going to be so interesting and so you would get so much fun from it.
As much as she loves spending her mornings in bed with you, wishfully thinking she could stay there all day, she can only give you 3 more minutes at best. Being an Overlord and a CEO keeps her rather busy. You’re grown, you can handle yourself (you have to in this world) she’s not keeping tabs on your whereabouts. Carmilla isn’t itching for a fight like these new “up and comers”. Giving you something to protect you when she’s not around simultaneously puts a target on your back. A simple ring with her name inscribed would suffice, satisfying any possessive vices she may or may not have
˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚
Abhorrent is jealousy, driving the younger generations to filth like, ugh, hickeys. Although, on a certain level he does understand. Being in Hell for as long as he has and alone the same amount, he knows all too well the primal need to claim what other’s might steal. One must leave their mark as a warning sign for others. Zestial’s exceptionally charming when he wants something, notably not asking when he presents you with the crisply wrapped gifts. There’s no less than twenty. Boxes upon boxes of accessories and clothes that suit you but hold his color palette, spider and web details to boot. He’s utterly thrilled when you wear them, showering you in compliments and declaring himself the luckiest soul in Hell
˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚
Goodness, have you seen how sinners nowadays go about the whole ordeal? What happened to romance!? Call her old fashioned, but Rosie likes a smidge of glamour in her techniques! She’ll walk shoulder to shoulder with you, holding her parasail over the both of you. She’ll accidentally press her painted lips on your cheek and forget, quickly getting swept up into conversation with someone or the other. It’s fine, no one would question her! Not if they wanted to live anyways. Butterflies swarm her stomach when she notices you haven’t wiped her imprint away, a proud smile spreading across her face. It becomes purposeful as the days go on
˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚
While happy to broadcast newsworthy exploits, sharing his private affairs with the world is out of the question. Of course the appeal of it all isn’t lost on him, he merely doesn’t see the point. Why broaden your horizons of potential dangers by claiming you publicly? To calm that unruly, covetous alien in the pit of his chest? He’s not that selfish! Besides, nothing less than something permanent could truly satisfy him anyhow
˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚
If he doesn’t have eyes on you, he’s working. Those measley hours apart won’t stop him from reminding all of Hell you still belong to him. He doesn’t trust anyone down here. He’ll convince you it’s for your safety that he tightens the collar around your neck. With a hum of approval, Val’s long and slender fingers twist the tag with his name on it. Heart shaped, of course, he loves you after all!
˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚
Only the insecure need to put a claim on their person. That’s not Vox, no way! You’re never really out of his sights anyways, what with today’s power of technology and all! The need to brand you goes a different route. He wants everyone to know you’re spoken for, pulling you on camera every chance he gets. He wants them to stare in awe and envy but cast their eyes down when you walk by in public. A slight on you would be a slight on him personally and no one messes with The Vees
˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚
Truthfully, there isn’t much she wouldn’t do. You’re all over her Sinstagram and that says it all. Every runway show, every red carpet walk, every paparazzi shot you’re always beside her. Vel dresses you left and right to match her OOTD somehow. She snaps a pic every single day (sometimes more) to show her followers their favorite couple is thriving and stylish as always! The description never fails to scream how your all hers
Hi!! Love your work,its like finding a gem in a gold mine!! Heres an idea: what about zestials opinion on carmine!reader and alastor? Like we know reader and zestial get along but what about what zestial thinks of them together?(or would zestial warn alastor or smthing!)
I really have to write the Wedding Saga of this couple at some point!
The Carmine manor was never quiet, but today held an unusual hush — the sort reserved for reverence rather than fear. Word had already spread among the staff: Zestial had arrived.
The door opened on its own before he knocked, charmed by Carmilla herself. She stepped forward with a rare smile.
“Zestial,” she greeted warmly. “It’s been too long.”
“My dear Carmilla, thou art radiant as ever,” Zestial answered with a deep bow, voice smooth and rich, echoing like a court scholar addressing his queen. “Pray forgive my absence from the nuptials. Affairs of the higher rings detained me most vexingly. Yet I bring with me humble tokens and sincerest felicitations for thy daughter's union.”
Y/N appeared from behind her mother and lit up immediately. “Zest!”
He opened his arms, and she rushed into them. For being one of Hell’s most ancient beings, he held her like a small child.
“Thou hast grown into a sublime terror,” he murmured fondly. “A daughter befitting thy mother’s lineage… and, by my troth, a wife worthy of the Radio Demon.”
“So I perceive.” His two pair of green eyes glimmered. “And I trust the gift I dispatched found its way to thee?”
Y/N nodded eagerly. “The enchanted blades?They’re perfect, Zest. Thank you.”
“Use them well, child. And sparingly — for their bite is hungry.”
Carmilla chuckled. “She’ll manage. She learned from the best, after all.”
Zestial hummed. “A truth no soul in Hell doubts.”
Only once they’d shared tea — black as sin, fragrant as grave soil — did Zestial’s gaze slide toward the parlor doorway, where Alastor lingered quietly.
Smiling. Listening. Waiting.
“Might I borrow thy husband for but a moment?” Zestial asked, still facing Y/N.
Her eyes widened, but she nodded.
Alastor stepped in with a polite bow, grin sharp and old-fashioned. “Zestial. A pleasure, as always.”
“Come, Radio Demon. Let us converse where ears be fewer and shadows more discreet.”
They stood in Carmilla’s garden — thorned roses, pale vines, a moon that glowed even in Hell.
Zestial clasped his hands behind his back. “Thou knowest, Alastor, I have long observed thee from afar. A creature of ambition, wrath, cunning. A hunter.”
Alastor chuckled. “You flatter me.”
“I describe thee. And I would have feared thee, once… had Y/N not chosen thee of her own will.”
Alastor’s smile flickered — not from fear, but from something shockingly close to humility.
“Thou hast given her joy — and more vexation than she ever deserved,” Zestial continued. “Yet she loves thee still. A rare and potent thing. Dangerous, if misheld.”
“Believe me,” Alastor said softly, voice dropping into sincerity he seldom used, “I know exactly how dangerous it is.”
“Good. For if thou wert ever to bring her sorrow again…”
Every candle in the garden flickered. Every thorn pointed toward Alastor’s chest. Even the moonlight dimmed.
Zestial’s voice remained gentle, even as his glowing green eyes were the only visible things on him as he shrouded himself in the sudden darkness:
“I shall unmake thee. Down to thine earliest whisper. Down to the very first shadow that crawled forth when thou drewest breath.”
Zestial’s expression softened at last. “Guard her heart, Alastor. ’Tis worth more than dominion, more than legacy, more than Hell itself.”
“I do,” Alastor replied. “And I will.”
“…See that thou dost.”
When they rejoined Y/N and Carmilla, Zestial placed a hand on Y/N’s head. “Be well, child. And may thy union endure beyond flame, beyond fury, beyond the very turning of Hell’s rings.”
Y/N hugged him again — fierce, daughterly. And Zestial, ancient terror of the upper circles, hugged her right back.
