the radio demon's little sister (vox x reader)

Alastor

I should have known he wouldn't leave it at that.

Men like Vox never do.

The moment I stepped out of his neon soaked playground, the silence felt wrong. Not quiet, not peaceful, just... empty in a way that made the back of my neck prickle. Hell was never actually silent. There was always something, distant screams, laughter, music bleeding through walls that shouldn't have had anything behind them.

But this-

This felt intentional.

Like the world itself was waiting.

I kept walking anyway.

My heels echoed against the pavement, steady, controlled. I refused to look back, refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking he'd gotten under my skin. He always thought that, even when he hadn't.

Even when I didn't care.

Even when I told myself I didn't care.

A flicker of movement caught my eye in a shattered window to my right.

For a split second, I thought it was him again, some screen glitching to life just to follow me. But when I turned my head, all I saw was my own reflection staring back.

Distorted.

Cracked.

Wrong.

I stopped.

There was something deeply irritating about seeing yourself in Hell. Not because of the horns, or the unnatural sharpness of features, or the way your eyes never quite looked human anymore. That part, I could live with.

It was the familiarity.

I still looked like myself.

Or at least, like the version of me people remembered.

And that meant he would recognize me anywhere.

A low, static hum slipped into the air behind me.

I didn't turn.

"You're lingering," I said flatly.

A soft chuckle answered, warm and smooth in a way that didn't match the place we were standing.

"Lingering?" came the voice. "Now, darling, that's such an uncharitable way to describe a reunion."

I closed my eyes for half a second.

Of course.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

Alastor stood a few steps away, hands neatly folded behind his back, posture perfect as ever. His smile was already there, wide and fixed like it had been carved into place.

It never reached his eyes.

"Alastor," I said.

He inclined his head slightly, like we were strangers being introduced at a party instead of twins who had spent a lifetime dismantling each other piece by piece. "My dear sister."

The word felt wrong coming from him.

It always had.

We looked at each other in silence for a moment, both of us measuring, calculating, waiting for the other to make the first real move.

He broke first.

"You've been busy," he said lightly. "Wandering into territories that aren't particularly... welcoming."

I raised a brow. "Funny. I could say the same about you."

His smile twitched, just barely. "Oh, I go wherever I please."