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I'M SORRY.

°•.♪.•°

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NO ONE'S POV
















A week later, the Hazbin Hotel no longer felt like a place of rehabilitation. Yeah, probably because a certain Radio Demon was emitting voodoo sigils with even a little bit of nuisance.

The whole place felt like a pressure cooker.

The lobby was crowded with movement, the cannibal town residents that was successfully roped in by Charlie was hauling crates of weapons and supplies, hotel staff rushing between floors, Charlie’s banners half-hung and crooked as plans were revised again and again.

There was basically noise and banter everywhere. Some Laughter from the cannibals. Some Shouting. Some Metal clanging against metal, this one is probably Sir Pentious.

And yet, whenever Alastor passed through, silence would soon follow.

Not the peaceful kind. Oh no no no No! It was the kind that made your shoulders stiffen and breath hitch.

The kind where even the cannibals, creatures who thrived on violence and chaos, pause mid-motion, eyes tracking him carefully, like prey watching a predator decide whether it was hungry.

Alastor hadn’t smiled properly in a week.

That fact alone was already terrifying.

He was moving with surgical precision, posture too straight, hands folded behind his back or resting lightly on his cane.

But there was something wrong in between those details, the way his head tilted just a fraction too slowly when someone spoke, the way his gaze lingered a second too long, like he was measuring how easily a body might come apart. He was basically a walking bomb ready to explode any second.

Every gesture felt like a warning. To fuck off or die kind of warning.

Though, No one asked him where Y/N was.

Not out loud. Because nobody dared. Not in his state.

Angel Dust tried once on the third day. Well, as expected it didn't end well.

Alastor had turned his head just enough for one red eye to catch the light and Angel had to shut up mid-sentence, turning pale in fright, laughing it off like a joke he hadn’t meant to tell and scampered towards Husk and the others.

By the seventh day, the tension was unbearable. It was suffocating everyone.

And thus, the whole crew finally decided for a meeting in the bar.

Husk slammed a glass down harder than necessary. “I’m sayin’ it’s not normal.”

Vaggie crossed her arms, wings twitching irritably. “You think? He nearly took a cannibal’s head off for standing too close to the stairs.”

“That cannibal dude didn’t even do anything!” Angel snapped, pacing. “Y/N used to stand closer than that all the time. Hell, she’d yank him by the coat like it was nothin’ and she'd still be scott free!”

PSYCHOPATHIC || ALASTOR x FEM READER 🥀Stories to obsess over. Discover now