Just as Vox had mentioned, she found herself under constant surveillance for the next few days. Every move she made, every word she uttered, seemed to be scrutinized by unseen eyes. It was suffocating, to say the least—a constant reminder of Vox's control over her. It was one of her feasting days, she decided to venture to Cannibalism Town, a place where denizens with her peculiar palette gathered to satisfy their primal urges. Accompanied by a hellhound, she made her way through the bustling streets, the scent of blood and flesh thick in the air.
The town exuded an eerie beauty, its architecture harkening back to the 1400s, a time of grandeur and opulence. It was one of her favorite areas to visit when she wanted to indulge without getting her own hands dirty. Stepping into a boutique of some sorts, she was greeted by a familiar face—Rosie, a woman she had encountered when she first began to explore Hell and its surroundings. "(Y/N), darling, it's been too long!" Rosie exclaimed with genuine delight, waving her over to join a tea meeting. Seated across from Rosie was another overlord, one she wasn't quite as fond of—the radio demon, Alastor. "This is Alastor, a fellow overlord. Alastor, this is (Y/N), isn't she just a peach!" Rosie introduced them with enthusiasm, holding her by the shoulders before ushering her into a chair between them.
"A pleasure, my dear," Alastor spoke with static, grinning at her before popping in a literal finger sandwich. "Come, sit, dear, you must be starved. We were just starting on finger sandwiches," Rosie insisted, gesturing for her to take a seat. As she settled in, the hellhound stood behind her, ever watchful of the two overlords engaging in conversation. "Now, tell me, what is it with your little..." Rosie's gaze shifted to the hound before returning to her, "...chaperone?" She sighed, reaching for a finger delicately and placing it onto her plate. "Vox has been a bit on edge," she confessed, her voice tinged with frustration. Rosie shook her head distastefully in response. "My, he truly does not know how to treat a lady. Alastor, dear, you wouldn't treat Ms. (Y/N) like that, would you?" she inquired, turning to the demon for his opinion.
Alastor eyed her for a moment before letting out a hearty laugh. "Heavens no! She's too much of a beauty to be treated in such a way," he replied with surprising sincerity, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before returning to his bloodied sandwich. Beauty wasn't something Alastor typically paid much attention to when it came to denizens of Hell, but in this case, it seemed more a matter of fact than flattery.
Her lips curved into a polite smile at Alastor's words, though inwardly she couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort at his lingering gaze. "Thank you, Alastor," she replied graciously, deciding not to dwell on the implications of his comment. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, delicately picking at her finger sandwich as she engaged in conversation with Rosie and Alastor. However, it wasn't long before Alastor's curiosity got the better of him, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. "So, (Y/N), how exactly is it that you know Vox?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. (Y/N) paused for a moment, considering her response carefully. She knew she had to tread lightly, especially in the presence of someone such as Alastor. "Ah, Vox and I go way back," she replied vaguely, offering a nonchalant shrug. "We've been friends for quite some time, you know how it is in Hell—connections run deep." Her words were casual, yet there was a guardedness to her tone, a subtle indication that there was more to their relationship than she was letting on.
Alastor's grin widened at her response, his interest piqued by her cryptic answer. "Is that so?" he mused, his eyes glinting with intrigue. "Well, well, it seems there's more to you than meets the eye, (Y/N)." He leaned back in his chair, observing her with renewed curiosity, eager to unravel her.
"Now, lets eat," Rosie quickly chimed in as the main course was set on the table.
-
(Y/N) sat in the luxurious salon chair, her gaze drifting lazily over her sharpened nails as the imps meticulously styled her hair. The atmosphere was filled with the scent of sulfur and the soft hum of demonic chatter, but her mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of the radio demon. "Velvette," she called out, breaking the silence that had settled between them. The other demon glanced up from her phone, her expression one of mild annoyance at being interrupted. "What now?" Velvette responded, her tone tinged with impatience. "I want to know more about the radio demon," (Y/N) stated, her voice tinged with curiosity. Velvette raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And why do you suddenly care about Alastor?" she inquired, setting her phone aside. "I recall seeing him in the advertisement," (Y/N) explained, her gaze flickering.
Velvette scoffed dismissively. "Alastor, is just a relic from a bygone era," she remarked, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Sure, he's strong, but he's outdated. He's no match for demons like us."(Y/N) listened to Velvette's dismissive words with a furrowed brow, her mind swirling with curiosity about the enigmatic radio demon. She knew there was more to Alastor than meets the eye, despite Velvette's nonchalant attitude towards him. "But Velvette, there has to be more to him than just being an old-fashioned relic," she persisted, her voice tinged with intrigue. "I mean, he's managed to carve out quite a reputation for himself in Hell, hasn't he? There must be something about him that sets him apart from the rest." Velvette shrugged indifferently, her attention still focused on her phone as she idly tapped away. "Sure, he's got a bit of a following with those radio broadcasts of his, but that doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things," she remarked casually. "Besides, why bother with someone like him when you've got Vox at your beck and call? Now there's a demon who knows how to make things happen."
She bid farewell to Velvette, her mind already strategizing how to regain Vox's favor. With determined steps, she made her way towards his studio, every move deliberate and poised. As she approached the door, a camera flickered, capturing her every movement. Instead of barging in as she usually did, she delicately tapped on the door, waiting for the invitation to enter. "Come in," Vox's voice called from within. Pushing the door open, she stepped into the studio, folding her hands in front of her as she surveyed the room. She was dressed immaculately in a white dress, her hair styled in an elegant updo, and her golden heels adding to her regal appearance. It was as if she had been touched by the divine. Vox peeked out from behind his desk, his eyes trailing over her form shamelessly. Despite herself, she felt a flutter of satisfaction at the attention she garnered from him. His smirk quickly turned coy as she approached, his words dripping with arrogance.
"You do this all for me, dear?" he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. She nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I wanted to apologize," she began, her voice soft yet resolute. Vox scoffed lightly, rising from his seat to stand before her. He reached out, his fingers grazing a stray strand of hair that framed her face, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he inhaled her scent.
"Apology accepted," he murmured, his tone filled with mock indulgence.
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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...
