She paced through the halls towards Vox's office, her footsteps echoing against the polished floors. As she rounded a corner, she collided with Valentino, his moth-like stature towering over her. His cocky grin sent a shiver down her spine, and she instinctively moved to create space between them. "Has the perrita lost her master?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance as he took a puff of whatever drug he was smoking. She scowled at him, her eyes narrowing with disdain as she brushed past him. "Where is Vox?" she demanded, her voice sharp with impatience. Valentino's laughter echoed through the corridor, his surprise evident that he had guessed correctly. "Your papito is hosting a meeting, but don't worry, I can keep you entertained," he jeered, blowing smoke in her face. The acrid scent filled her senses, and she resisted the urge to cough as the smoke formed makeshift chains around her before fading away.
She rolled her eyes before a thought crossed her mind. She would ask him. "Val," she started hesitantly, "Let me have Angel... for a day." His grin faltered, his eyes turning into a glare. "And why would I do that?" he humored her, puffing on his drug. "I'll let you..." she held her tongue, debating momentarily. He needed a break. She knew he needed this. "You can do anything with me," she said sharply. He laughed louder than before, the sound grating on her nerves. "Although I appreciate your offer," he looked her up and down, licking his lips, "I know better than to mess with Vox's pretty toys," he purred, blowing his drug out. He continued, "Since you've entertained me enough, I'll let you have that slut. But just don't be too rough," he laughed while walking away, his arrogance radiating off him like a foul stench. Her skin prickled with disdain as she left him, moving to go find Vox. She couldn't believe she had stooped to bargaining with Valentino, but she was determined to make the most of this opportunity to help Angel.
Vox's piercing gaze scanned the array of television screens that adorned the walls, each one offering a window into the bustling world outside the confines of his domain. His attention fixated on a particular screen, displaying the exterior of the Hazbin Hotel. There, amidst the chaos of the bustling street, stood Alastor, the self-proclaimed Radio Demon, nonchalantly watering the grass before abruptly turning to the camera and, with a flicker of distortion, glitching it out. Vox's lips curled into a disdainful sneer as he muttered under his breath about the cocky bastard. Vox rolled his eyes, finding the demon's theatrics tiresome and predictable. Yet, even as he dismissed Alastor, a flicker of envy stirred within him.
Just as Vox's irritation peaked, the entrance to his studio swung open, and (Y/N) sauntered in, her presence a welcome distraction from the monotony of the screens. "Ah, (Y/N), my dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Vox greeted, his voice laced with false warmth as he flashed her a charming grin. But she paid him little heed, striding past him and settling herself on the plush couch, her attention fixed on the television. Vox's grin faltered, replaced by a furrow of confusion and mild irritation. He had expected her usual flirtatious banter or perhaps even a request for his attention. Instead, she seemed entirely engrossed in whatever was playing on the screen. Suppressing a sigh, Vox composed himself and sauntered over to join her, perching himself on the arm of the couch.
His frustration simmered beneath the surface as he watched her, his mind churning with irritation. How dare she remain so nonchalant in his presence, ignoring his attempts at conversation as if he were nothing more than background noise? Vox's lips twisted into a wry smirk as he attempted to draw her attention with a comment about the weather, but she remained steadfastly fixated on the screen. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at her indifference, the realization that she wasn't easily swayed by his charm pricking at his ego.
With a swift change of tactics, he switched the channel to one featuring himself, his image projected in all its glory as he spoke disparagingly of Alastor's return. Surely, she couldn't resist the allure of his charismatic presence, he thought smugly. But once again, she paid him no heed, her focus changing to the scenery outside. Enough was enough. Rising from his seat, Vox moved to stand behind her, his frustration boiling over into a palpable tension. As he studied her silhouette, he couldn't help but be struck by her undeniable beauty, the way her wings folded gracefully against her back, the subtle curve of her figure. Vox leaned in close, his breath ghosting over her ear as he delivered his sharp reprimand. "You have to stop acting like a fucking child," he admonished, his tone laced with frustration and a hint of desperation. Finally, she turned to glance at him, her gaze meeting his with a cool indifference that only fueled his irritation further.
Her eyes widened, almost instantly capturing his attention with their innocence and depth, a feature he found utterly captivating. "Voxxie," she spoke, her voice carrying that familiar tone he adored, a subtle plea that he recognized almost instantly. Despite his frustration, his demeanor softened ever so slightly in response to her. But then she paused, hesitating before speaking further. Vox couldn't help but feel a surge of impatience rising within him. What could she possibly want now? He shifted his weight, laying his head onto her shoulder, his frustration mingling with the comfort of her presence. He listened to the rhythm of her breathing, feeling the softness of her hair against his cheek as he waited for her to continue. She drew in a breath, seemingly ready to voice her thoughts, but then faltered, the silence stretching between them as she contemplated her words. Vox's annoyance grew with each passing second, his patience wearing thin as he awaited her next move.
"The hotel," she stopped to hear his reaction. "The hotel?" Vox echoed, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise at her choice of topic. His mind raced with possibilities, wondering what could have prompted her sudden interest in the Hazbin Hotel. Was she considering leaving him? Or perhaps she had some sort of business proposal in mind? He studied her carefully, trying to gauge her intentions from her expression alone. But her face revealed nothing, a mask of unreadable calmness that frustrated him. "What about it?" he prodded.
"I would like to join them, I know it seems stupid, impossible even but I would like to-"Vox's chuckle resonated in the room like a sharp echo, cutting through her rambling. He reached out with a suddenness that made her flinch, gripping her cheeks firmly and pulling her face closer to his own. Their eyes locked in a fierce, unyielding gaze, each holding their ground with an intensity. "And what makes you think they would want someone like you?" Vox's voice dripped with skepticism, his eyes boring into hers as he scrutinized her closely. He relished the challenge she presented, even as he sought to reject her aspirations beneath the weight of his authority. "Oh, my dear (Y/N)," Vox's voice was laced with condescension as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers in the small space between them. "Do you truly believe they would welcome you with open arms? You?"
"I don't mean to offend you, I just—" she began, but Vox's sharp interruption sliced through her words like a blade. "Just what, want to fuckin' leave me, want to get your fucking freedom?" Vox's voice was like a whip crack, cutting through the air with venomous intensity. As he uttered those words, a makeshift blue chain materialized around her neck, his grip tightening around it as he forcefully pulled her up from the couch. His eyes glinted with a predatory glare, relishing in the power he exerted over her. She grasped at the collar, feeling the weight of his assertiveness pressing down on her. "Voxxie, I didn't mean to offend you," she pleaded, her voice tinged with regret and apprehension. His laughter was like a cold wind, chilling her to the bone as he tightened his grip on the collar, reveling in her vulnerability. "Like you could offend me, don't make me laugh," he growled, his words dripping with contempt. "Forgive me, I pushed my boundaries, Vox," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the weight of his control.
With a sharp sigh, Vox unmaterialized the chain, releasing her from its oppressive grip. "Don't fucking visit me for a few days. I'll have someone watch over you until then," he commanded, his voice dripping with disdain as he turned away from her. She stood there, holding her neck where the phantom collar had been. As Vox exited his studio, the heavy door closing behind him with a resounding thud, he left her alone with her thoughts, her feelings of regret and frustration swirling within her. She glanced around the empty room, feeling a sense of suffocation closing in on her. With a heavy heart, she made her way out of Vox's office, her steps weighted with the burden of his control. She couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, a bitter taste lingering on her tongue as she grappled with the aftermath.
"Fuck me."
YOU ARE READING
OBLIVION/ HAZBIN HOTEL.
Fanfiction"I always wondered what venison tasted like," She was a lamb disguised in wolf's clothing; with doe-like eyes that shimmered with innocence and beauty, it was as though the heavens themselves had plucked her from the celestial realm only to cast her...
