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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months ago

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Under Your Spell

Vox x Reader

Since childhood, I have been told I look identical to my great-grandmother. Her husband, my great-grandfather, has looked at me like I was the last fragment of her to walk this earth. When he passed, it made me realize how some people lose their first loves and never get to see them again. I decided for this story that Vox should get to see his first love after he thought all was lost. However, it was you, his first lost love's great-granddaughter. You have the same looks and names, just younger. He thought after his first love's father chased him away, that was it, and any part of your life would never be in his hands again—until you were placed in Val's hands, and his protective side came out. Can you two learn to love each other? Will things grow or dissolve since he is close to that horrid Moth man? Tw: MDNI, 18+, Assult, Val being Val, Weird family-like relations, based off my HC Vox

Wow, this one is a long one. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! I don't normally write long pieces like this, so if we like it, I will attempt to do it more! I wanted this posted yesterday but just kept writing and writing and writing. I had to make myself stop and cut off.

“No, Vox! You will never see my daughter again! Do you hear me?” The older man’s voice thundered, his face a deep crimson, veins bulging as fury twisted his features. Spit flew from his mouth with each vehement word, a grotesque display of his rage. “She is a good Christian woman, and she will not fall for your television antics! She deserves a good man—someone who can provide for her, not some reality star scum!”

Vox swallowed hard, the bitter taste of desperation rising in his throat. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he fought to keep them at bay, unwilling to give the man before him the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. “You can’t do this!” He surged forward, trying to push the door open again, the threshold of your home now a barrier between love and despair. Just moments ago, he had envisioned a simple marriage proposal—an intimate moment filled with promise. But the moment he uttered those words, it felt as if the heavens had opened up to unleash divine wrath upon him. Vox was never a good christian man and now only seemed to further prove that.

“I love her! I have loved her for so long! I will treat her right! You cannot take my Angel from me!” His voice cracked, desperation saturating each syllable as he pleaded with the man who wielded the power to shatter his dreams.

But the door slammed shut, the finality of it echoing in his heart. As Vox stumbled back, the world around him blurred, the vibrant colors of love fading into a monochrome nightmare. You were gone, just as quickly as you had entered his life, your father’s iron grip ripping you from his arms. Like a good Christian girl, you obeyed, never looking back.

You married a well-off businessman, someone who could provide in all the ways Vox was deemed incapable. Sundays found you in polished pews, while he languished in the bright glare of daytime TV. You bore children while Vox climbed the ranks to prime time, and as he basked in fleeting fame, you were left to wither under the weight of a dreaded illness. When he was ultimately taken down by his own deceitful schemes, it felt like a cruel twist of fate for you both.

When Vox woke in hell, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he felt a strange sense of contentment; he knew he had courted darkness throughout his life. A con man’s rise to fame was paved with the broken dreams of others, and he’d danced on that line with reckless abandon. Yet, the greatest cost was the loss of you—his little angel, the only light that could have guided him from the shadows. Perhaps, if he had kept you by his side, he might have found redemption instead of ruin.

Years in hell stretched on, dull and monotonous, much like his time as a TV host. He made acquaintances, and he made enemies. He learned from the notorious Radio Demon, their relationship evolving into a rivalry as fierce as it was complex. Valentino entered the picture, a partnership forged in the fires of self-interest, followed by Velvette, who added her own chaotic flair to their strange trio. Despite these new connections, Vox could never fully release you from his heart. How could he let go of his first love, the girl who had filled his world with color?

Vox kept tabs on you long ago when you two still walked among the living, an unyielding shadow lurking in the corners of your life. He was a shady man, after all, so it was no surprise that he employed someone to follow you and your family. He needed to know you were loved and cared for, even if it meant watching from the sidelines. Your life blossomed into something beautiful—a picture-perfect family, Sunday church outings, laughter echoing through the halls of your home. Each glimpse of your happiness twisted the knife in his heart, a reminder of what he had lost. He only wished now here in hell he could have a moment to see you once more.

Yet, you never looked back at him, not once. Even when he learned you were sick, he held onto the hope that your devoted husband would nurse you back to health. Instead, you spent your final years in a realm far brighter than hell, surrounded by family, while Vox remained trapped in the shadows.

Then, one fateful day, the story took an unforeseen turn. You, Y/N L/N, the great-granddaughter of the woman who once bore the same name and likeness, found yourself in a world steeped in piety and predictability. Your family’s life revolved around the church—Sunday services, Bible studies, and summer camps that felt more like shackles than blessings.

Yet you, the wild child among your siblings and the first daughter in generations, danced on the edge of rebellion. Your spirit, a fiery blend of your grandmother’s beauty and the reckless charm of a man she once sought to escape late into the night with, burned brightly. You lived humbly, taking only what you needed in the daylight, but at night that didn’t stop you from indulging in the vices that thrilled your heart—partying, drinking, and seeking freedom in every forbidden encounter.

As you stepped into adulthood, the veil of your misdeeds was ripped away, exposing the wild and reckless girl you had been. On your eighteenth birthday, the news broke like a thunderclap, echoing through your conservative town. Whispers turned to shouts as tales of your high school escapades spread like wildfire—parties, late nights, and indiscretions that painted you as the black sheep of your family.

In a desperate attempt to salvage your reputation, your parents enrolled you in a Christian college, hoping the structure would steer you back to the righteous path. But even there, with the pressure of expectations weighing heavily on you, you found ways to maintain your hedonistic lifestyle. You studied hard, yes, but the allure of nightlife was too intoxicating to resist. By the time you turned twenty-four, your antics had once again come to light, revealing just how unladylike and un-Christian your behavior had truly become.

Disowned by your family, you were cast out like a forgotten relic, but it hardly stung. You had siblings aplenty—golden children who fit the mold your parents desired. While they basked in their parents' approval, you reveled in your newfound freedom, embracing a life unshackled from the burdens of propriety. You danced through life with a wild abandon, each misstep a badge of honor in your quest for self-discovery.

But this exhilarating freedom came crashing down one fateful night. On the eve of your twenty-eighth birthday, you found yourself at a pulsating club, surrounded by friends who matched your energy. Laughter and music melded into a cacophony of joy, and for a moment, the weight of your past felt distant. But as the night wore on, everything blurred. A drink, laced with malice, slipped into your hand, and before you knew it, the world around you faded to black.

When you came to, the vibrant lights and music were replaced by an oppressive stillness. You blinked, disoriented, trying to piece together what had happened. Panic surged through you as you recognized your surroundings—a hellish landscape bathed in a sinister shade of red. The air was thick with a suffocating heat, and the ground beneath you felt like it was pulsating with a malevolent energy.

The reality of your situation crashed down like a wave, and you realized you were no longer in the world you had known. You had crossed an unforgiving threshold, one that led straight into this hellish landscape. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes—your family’s disappointment, your reckless choices, the fleeting moments of joy that now seemed tainted.

As you struggled to rise, the shadows began to shift and swirl around you, whispering secrets of despair and temptation. You knew you were exactly where you belonged, a place you practically through yourself at the minute you were old enough to disobey your family. You were killed and now resting here in the pits of hell.

In those fleeting moments, you understood that you weren’t just a victim of circumstance from one bad drink; you were a participant in your own chaotic narrative. The life you had led and the choices you had made brought you here, and now, in this twisted realm, you had the chance to confront the consequences of your actions.

With a mixture of fear and defiance, you steeled yourself, ready to navigate this dark new world. You would face whatever challenges awaited you, determined to reclaim your story, even if it meant battling the demons of your past—both literally and figuratively.

You were in hell and you readily accepted this, dressed in a glitzy clubbing dress, your skin transformed to the vibrant hue of a fox’s rich orange, glinted with specks of white and black. Yet, amidst this twisted beauty, your features still bore the unsettling resemblance to your deceased great grandmother.

As the years dragged on, the brutal exterminations became increasingly difficult to evade. The once-familiar landscape of hell morphed into a relentless hunt, where survival was a cruel game of chance. Desperation gnawed at your insides, leading you to a place you had sworn to avoid—a notorious sex house owned by Valentino, a figure whose reputation sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened souls.

You stepped into that den of sexual sin with a singular purpose: the Vee’s worker bees somehow endured the purges, and you were desperate to escape the clutches of a second death. With a resolve, you signed up to be 'looked at' for a position among his girls, hoping to cling to life a little longer.

What you encountered inside was an atmosphere so charged with depravity it felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. The air was thick with the heady scent of desperation and lust, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and smoke. You had pushed boundaries in your past life, but this was another level entirely. As nausea rose in your throat, you instinctively turned to prayer—a futile gesture in this place of darkness.

But in that moment of vulnerability, your fate took a turn. Valentino’s gaze locked onto yours, and you became acutely aware of the power dynamics at play. You were stunning, a rare gem in a world where foxes were coveted for their allure, and you were an easy choice for Val, despite your lack of experience in the kind of intensity he demanded.

Fortune, it seemed, was on your side. Within hours, you found yourself promoted, thrust into the orbit of Angel Dust, a top star in this grim world, and whisked away to Vee's Tower, where the underbelly of the film industry thrived. At first, your work was relatively tame, as Angel had angered Val, bearing the brunt of the wrath while you breathed a sigh of relief. You grew to enjoy the role, finding unexpected camaraderie with Velvette, the costume designer whose creativity brought a splash of color to the otherwise bleak environment. She was a refreshing presence, a stark contrast to the calculating Val.

Yet, the shadows loomed ever closer. Angel’s absence, demanded by the princess of hell, left you standing alone in a spotlight that felt increasingly dangerous. Whispers of Val’s violent tendencies echoed in your mind, tales of how he had ruthlessly eliminated two of Velvette’s models and three of Vox’s interns. Fear coursed through your veins as you perched on a plum-red bed, clad in a navy blue lingerie set, feeling like prey waiting to be devoured.

And then, without warning, the door swung open. You braced yourself, only to find not Val, but a strikingly handsome man with a television for a head. It was Vox, the elusive figure you had only heard whispers about. You leaned forward, captivated by the confrontation unfolding before you, the tension crackling in the air like electricity.

But then Val’s eyes landed on you, and his smile widened, a predatory gleam igniting within them. “My dear Voxypoo,” Val purred, “how about we make a deal? I’ll apologize for my misdeeds towards your interns in exchange for Hermosa over here.”

Your heart raced as Vox’s eyes widened in recognition, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. An unexpected jolt of electricity surged through you, mingling with fear and a spark of something dangerously close to desire. You were caught in a web of fate, and as the stakes rose higher, you realized that your story in this hell was only just beginning.

You had never met this man before a day in your life, yet an inexplicable pull drew you toward him, a magnetic static crackling in the air around him. “Oh Vox, if you don’t want her, that’s fine. I plan on her taking Angel’s role today. The damn spider is off playing games with the princessa bitch,” Valentino sneered, and your heart sank. Fear coursed through your veins like ice water; the realization hit you hard—he intended to use you in one of those scenes, to thrust you into the depths of humiliation and despair.

“She's a high commodity; I’m sure her soul would be mine after—” Val’s voice trailed off, but you couldn’t grasp what was happening next. One moment, you were trembling in fear, and the next, a whirlwind of chaos erupted. Valentino’s eyes swirled with ominous black and red spirals as the shoot was abruptly canceled, the tension snapping like a frayed wire.

A navy blue jacket was draped over your shoulders, and a firm hand helped you to your feet. “Come with me. You will be working in VoxTech from now on. Understood?” Vox’s voice was steady, but you could only nod, relief flooding through you at the thought of escaping Val’s clutches, at least for now.

You were still ensnared in the web of the Vee’s world, but perhaps you could choose the cranky TV man who seemed more enigmatic than predatory. Maybe you could carve out a semblance of a life, away from the chaos that had become your existence.

Following Vox, you traversed the unfamiliar corridors of Vee’s Tower, finally arriving in a room that felt distinctly different from the others. The walls were lined with large screens displaying chaotic scenes from around hell, and a solitary chair sat in the center, casting a shadow like a throne of power. “W-Where are we? Val never brought me here?” you stammered, confusion clouding your mind.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. Was this place a reflection of his past? Did you really resemble someone he had lost? The thought flickered through his mind, but Vox regained his composure and sat down, turning on the myriad of cameras that monitored the chaos outside. “This is my office. You will grow acquainted with it, as you will be my personal assistant.”

A wave of dread washed over you. So you weren’t free from the chains of servitude; you were merely swapping one form of obedience for another. His gaze flicked toward you, and he must have seen the pain etched in your features because he added, “You will do nothing more for me than paperwork, gather intel, and help set up schedules.” He motioned for you to leave, his tone dismissive yet oddly gentle.

“This floor has eight unused apartments. Choose one and message me; I will unlock it for you, and you can create your own secure pin to come and go.” His words felt like a lifeline, yet the way he avoided looking at you left a strange knot in your stomach.

Nodding, you stepped out, still wrapped in his jacket, a strange comfort amidst the chaos. You wandered the floor until you found a room that resonated with you—a sanctuary away from the dirt and grime of your past. After messaging Vox, you entered, marveling at the unexpected upgrade. How had you managed to elevate your circumstances so easily?

Lying back on the bed, you gazed up at the ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of your new life. You were seeking refuge, had become Val’s plaything, narrowly escaped abuse because of a cranky TV man who wouldn’t even look at you. What an absurd turn of events—what the hell was happening?

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you changed into comfortable clothes, the tension of the day beginning to ebb away. Just as sleep began to weave its way into your mind, a soft chime from your phone startled you awake. Vox had messaged you, detailing the new daily routine you would follow to assist him.

Setting an alarm, you nestled into bed, uncertainty swirling in your thoughts like a restless storm. What would the next day bring? Would it be more of the same, or perhaps a glimmer of hope in this hellish landscape? As you drifted off, the questions lingered, weaving through your dreams like shadows, leaving you on the brink of something you couldn’t yet comprehend.

------------------------Time Skip-------------------------

Vox quickly grew to love your company over the last three years, though Vox knew deep down that you weren’t the woman he had loved in his youth. You were almost her replica—a haunting echo of the past—but with a wilder, more untamed spirit. As he watched you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief, he found himself drawn to that wildness even more. It was as if fate had conspired to create you just for him, a masterpiece crafted by your great-grandmother’s whims.

Yet, he never dared to reveal this connection, fearing it might shatter the fragile friendship that had blossomed between you. Yes, friendship—nothing more or less. However, with each passing day, he found himself surrendering to the undeniable truth that he had fallen for you harder than he ever had for your great-grandmother.

No matter how many times he insisted that he was merely helping an old friend, a beacon of support for someone who had been torn from him, he couldn’t deny the intoxicating pull you had on him. At first, it had been your striking looks that captivated him, but as time wore on, it was your vibrant personality that ensnared his heart. You were everything Vox craved and needed on a biblical level; an irony he chuckled at, considering he hadn’t picked up a Bible since your great-grandmother had left him.

His mind was spiraling, his hypnosis streams were intensifying, and his push for innovative Vox tech was reaching a fever pitch. He even managed to score a narrow victory against Alastor, all thanks to you. How could one person be so perfectly oblivious to the advances he so desperately tried to make?

No one had ever worn his watches, draped themselves in his jackets, or even held his cherished pocket squares—except for you. But a troubling realization swept over him: all the advances he made were rooted in his time period, not yours. Your great-grandmother may have swooned at his charm, but you probably saw him as nothing more than a friend. In that moment, he knew he was utterly doomed.

You genuinely enjoyed working for Vox, relishing the opportunity to utilize your strengths. With a degree in entertainment and public relations, you found it easy to navigate the world of hypnotic persuasion he wielded. You were a wizard at uncovering people’s weak spots, providing Vox with ample ammunition against his personal enemies.

Almost immediately, you had become Vox’s young, gorgeous vixen. You liked the title so much that you gradually stopped using your real name, opting instead for the playful 'V' theme. Yet, Vox never referred to you by that name—always your real name, accompanied by a distant look that gnawed at your insides.

It had taken a year for him to truly see you, another year for him to stop freezing like a computer caught in a loop, and now, in this last year, he finally spoke without those awkward buffering noises.

You never understood why he had chosen you as his assistant if he struggled to be around you. But you were content, especially since you had escaped Valentino’s grasp. You felt lucky that the exterminations had ceased shortly after you joined Vox. You often reassured yourself that if they ever resumed, you would leave—but the truth was, you were too attached to the enigmatic, awkward TV man.

You couldn’t deny the chemistry crackling between the two of you. He sent sparks racing through your body, igniting your nervous system with a thrilling energy. He was handsome in a classic, old-school way, the type of man your father would approve of—if only they never got to know he was a con artist.

Every fiber of your being screamed to be with him, to unravel the layers of his soul and understand him in a way that transcended mere friendship. He was smooth-talking, undeniably hot, and invading your dreams more each night, leaving you craving his presence even more. The tension hung thick in the air, a tantalizing promise of what could be, if only you dared to cross the line that separated friendship from something infinitely more profound.

It was utterly embarrassing—sneaking down to the old production studio, heart racing, just to rent out some toys that would let you indulge in your fantasies of being with Vox. He had never once hypnotized you, but you were undeniably under his spell, enchanted by his presence in every way.

“Vox, I got you the meeting with Carmilla about the angelic steel and its reproduction,” you announced, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. “I also secured a meeting with the health district to discuss the drug you want to utilize.” You had become extra vigilant lately, making a concerted effort to show him your interest. Your skirts grew shorter, your tops had fewer buttons, and your heels reached dizzying heights, showcasing your legs to their best advantage.

You were the death of him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his composure crumbled completely. You were tantalizingly close, yet he felt he couldn’t take advantage of your affections. The scars from his past ran deep; he didn’t want to go through that kind of heartache again. Even if your father couldn’t steal you away like your great-grandmother had been stolen from him, the odd connection to family made him reluctant to risk your bond.

But the way you presented yourself, dressed to entice, sent a tent of desire straining against the fabric of his pants. It felt as though he was being dragged through heaven, hell, and every place in between. He knew you were in hell in your own way, unlike your great-grandmother, but damn, did you have to be so deliciously tempting?

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll be getting off early today due to an issue with Val. If you could make sure the cleaners come in here and do their job properly, I’d appreciate it,” he said, his voice calm and cool, eyes never lifting from the screen.

He was an enigma, nearly impossible to crack, seemingly showing no interest in you at all. Sighing, you nodded and began clearing his schedule; his fights with Val tended to stretch on longer than they should. You made sure to leave a dinner reminder for him and then headed out to retrieve the cleaning staff.

When you returned, you monitored the cleaning process closely. Vox usually preferred his tech to handle the cleaning, but today he insisted that his computers and TVs needed a “Sinners touch” to avoid any mishaps. You settled into his large chair, humming softly, legs crossed, watching as the young, fish-like boy worked diligently.

Out of the corner of your eye, a faint blue glow caught your attention. Vox was typically meticulous about shutting everything down before leaving, yet this one tab remained open. Half of you wanted to close it and move on with your life, but the other half—the curious, daring part—couldn’t resist the temptation.

With a deep breath, you opened the screen. A Word document sprawled across the display, pages filled with dates and passages that traced the evolution of technology from its inception to the present. Your heart raced as you scrolled through the text, but then you froze, eyes fixated on the most recent passage.

It was a detailed account of his current hyperfixation – You. As you read on, the implications began to sink in, filling you with a mix of excitement and dread. What had Vox been planning? And how deeply did it truly involve you?

‘She was a vision of beauty, captivating in a way that made my heart race and my thoughts spiral into chaos. I found myself wanting to take her, to make her mine in every way possible—over my bed, on the couch, against the cool surface of the counter, or sprawled across my desk. It was a reckless desire, one that threatened to unravel my composure and resolve with each passing glance. I was trying to court her like a proper gentleman, even though every instinct screamed for me to act on the primal urge that surged within me.’

‘What would she think if I finally confessed the truth? The truth of the connection that shimmered between us, electric and undeniable. If I bared my soul, revealing the reason why every time I looked at her, I felt an insatiable longing to claim her and never let her go—would she recoil in fear, or would she lean in closer? Would she despise me for the dark secrets I harbored?’

‘It was a sin, a tangled web of emotions, that I saved her not just because I had to, but because I had once been in love with her great-grandmother. If only it were simple to tell Y/N that my heart had shifted over the years, that the ghost of the past no longer haunted me as I found myself enchanted by her. I needed to steady my racing heart, but the hope of seeing more of Y/N today filled me with both excitement and dread. She had left a dinner reservation for two—was it meant for us, or was it for Val and me? My heart leaped at the possibility that it was for her and I.’

You were in shock. A torrent of questions flooded your mind, each one more bewildering than the last. How did he know your great-grandmother? How had he concealed this attraction so skillfully? The cleaner’s approach broke your reverie, and the scream that escaped your lips echoed through the building, a cacophony of confusion and fear.

With a heavy sigh, you closed everything down, your thoughts still swirling like leaves caught in a wind tunnel. You gently patted the shorter fish boy’s head, his wide eyes filled with fear and uncertainty mirroring your own. As you made your way back to your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the revelations pressing down on you.

He knew her? You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately rifling through the foggy memories of your childhood, the faded photographs that lined the walls of your mind. Your great-grandmother had passed away when your grandmother was still a child, but her belongings remained—a bittersweet reminder of a life once lived. Vaguely, you recalled a picture that had often sparked your great-grandfather's ire.

Vox was in that picture… Vox, her first love, the man who had been banished by her father, the one your great-grandfather had despised and vowed to protect his family from. He was the specter who haunted your past, a figure you were compared to when you were disowned from the family and stripped of your inheritance.

The realization hit you like a thunderclap, shattering your understanding of everything you thought you knew. How did you feel? The attraction was still there, a flicker of warmth igniting within you as you considered his little habits, the subtle ways he courted you, filling you with butterflies. But could you allow yourself to love him? Would it be wrong to care for him in that way?

You glanced at your tablet, your heart racing as you noticed the dinner reservation was in just forty-five minutes. Swallowing hard, you stood up, a newfound determination coursing through your veins. The only way to truly understand what he made you feel, to unravel this complex web of emotions, was to show up. Normally, these reservations were for Val and him, a ritual of reconciliation, but this time, you would be there for him. For you.

You moved quickly, the anticipation coursing through your veins as you stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over you like a refreshing embrace. With each drop, you washed away the remnants of your uncertainties, emerging with a renewed sense of purpose.

Dressing became an art form; you pulled out all the stops to impress Vox. The deep ruby red pumps clicked against the floor as you slipped them on, a bold statement that added height and confidence to your stature. Black frilled lace-topped stockings clung to your legs, accentuating every curve. The navy blue long-sleeved dress hugged your figure just right, revealing just enough to showcase your best assets without losing an air of elegance. You styled your hair to perfection, cascading waves framing your face, while your makeup highlighted your features, making your eyes sparkle like stars.

It had been ages since you had gone to such lengths, not since the days of trying to impress Val, desperate to avoid his inappropriate advances. With a sigh, you shot a quick message to Vox, sharing the restaurant's destination but omitting any mention of Val. Tonight was about you and Vox, and you were determined to make the most of it.

As you stepped out of your door, your Vox Tech security bot awaited you, its sleek design a reminder of the world you inhabited. Vox had insisted on the device escorting you, and as you arrived at the restaurant, your eyes locked with Vox’s as he just arrived as well. Time seemed to pause as you both stood there, taking each other in.

To him, you were radiant, every inch of you exuding beauty and allure. His desires surged within him, overwhelming as he imagined symphonies and angelic choirs serenading your presence in this chaotic world. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but admire his dashing figure. Though a hard day had worn on him, leaving traces of fatigue etched across his handsome features, he maintained an effortless charm. A few buttons of his shirt were undone, his cuffs slightly askew, and in that moment, you realized something profound: tonight, he would be yours, and you would be his, come what may.

A soft smile danced on your lips as you reached for his outstretched arm, feeling a rush of warmth as you entered the restaurant together. The high-end staff treated you like royalty, ushering you to a table draped in elegant linens. Once seated, you glanced up at Vox through your lashes, your expression teasing as you playfully toyed with the rim of your wine glass.

“I know about our family ties…” you said, watching as his eyes widened in surprise, a dark blush creeping across his cheeks. Was he embarrassed that you knew, or perhaps flustered by the undeniable attraction that pulsed between you?

“I want you to know, connection or not, I feel it all too,” you added, punctuating your statement with a sly wink. His composure faltered, and you could see him short-circuiting, lost in the implications of your words.

Once he regained his composure, a soft smile broke across his face, his eyes flickering nervously as he tried to avoid the luxurious curves that had him entranced. “So this means I can finally stop dancing around and court you more publicly?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his gaze.

You couldn’t help but snort, shaking your head with a smirk. “I think we’ve passed the stage of courting, Mr. Bed, Couch, Counter, and Desk.” Your cheeks warmed at your own boldness, while his face flamed with embarrassment at your teasing. A soft giggle escaped you as you flagged down the waiter, paying for the wine that would accompany your evening.

“Let’s head back to the tower, Vox… let me help you relax after today’s tiring events.” The confidence that surged within you was intoxicating, fueled by the way he looked at you and the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air.

You had dreamed of this moment, of nights alone together, your hand tucked beneath you in hopes of relief, but it had never been enough. Each day spent near him only deepened your addiction to the awkward yet captivating man. But with the dark, calculating look in his eyes, you knew that from this moment forward, you would be more than satisfied.

As the evening unfolded, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you—two souls entwined in a dance of desire, ready to explore the depths of your connection, past and present, together.

A chill raced down your spine as you and he stepped into his work car, the evening air thick with anticipation. He wanted to wait until you were safely hidden away in his condo before his hands roamed your body, but the magnetic pull between you was undeniable. As the engine purred to life, his fingers found their way to your thigh, gently caressing the soft fabric of your stockings. You could feel his gaze on you, hungry and intense, as you breathed heavily, caught in the electrifying moment. He was eager to claim you as his own, to make you his in every sense.

The drive felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out as his hand danced tantalizingly close to where you craved him most. You were ablaze with desire, the thrill of his touch igniting something deep within you that had lay dormant for far too long. No one had ever made you feel this way—caught between the living and the dead, lost in a whirlwind of longing and need. You were ready to surrender completely to the man beside you, to give him every part of yourself.

When the car finally came to a halt, all semblance of self-control shattered. In one swift motion, he pulled you over the center console and into his lap, his lips crashing against yours with a fervor that stole your breath away. One hand tangled possessively in your hair while the other gripped your waist, asserting his dominance in a way that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

You mirrored his urgency, your fingers gripping his shoulder and the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Every kiss, every whisper of his breath against your skin, sent jolts of electricity sparking through your nerves, making you whimper into his mouth. You could feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against you, a reflection of the heated chemistry that crackled between you.

With his patience wearing thin, he pulled away, but only long enough to fling open the car door. He was acutely aware of your head as he stepped out, holding you firmly against him, making his way through the throng of Vee staff and personnel. There was no hesitation in his stride; he made it abundantly clear that you were his and his alone, a declaration that sent a thrill coursing through you.

As you rode the elevator, the air thickened with tension and need. He pressed you against the cool metal wall, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you fervently, over and over again. His hands roamed your body with a glorious sensuality, and you could hear the soft moans and whimpers escaping him, reverberating in your chest like a sweet melody.

When the elevator doors finally opened, it was as if you were stepping into a dream. He swept you up in his arms, never breaking contact with your warmth or your mouth. With a careful grace, he navigated the threshold of his condo, ensuring you never brushed against anything sharp or hard, as if he wanted to preserve this fragile moment forever. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other, ready to explore the depths of your desire.

The sensations heightened once you two entered his bedroom as he gently set you on the bed. He was careful to lay you down, slotting himself between your legs. He hummed quietly in the kiss as he enjoyed the feeling and taste of you. You were, finally, his, and he could have you all he wanted here. You offered no protests.

You raked your hands over his arms and chest, slipping behind his back, scratching gently with your nails on any skin you could find. Vox's sounds, the same frequent heat, and need, were identical to yours. Everything begged you to take your clothes off and take him.

Vox pulled away, looking down at you for the first time since tonight's escapades began. A sloppy, lopsided grin was on his face as he moved the hair from your face. "Are you sure you want this doll?"

You gave him one soft nod, and all bets were off. Before you could utter another word, a moan was pulled from your lips as he kissed down your neck and pulled on the base of your hair. Soft pants left you, and you felt the tension pool in your core. How long have you two wanted this?

Sighing softly and pushing into Vox's clothed crotch, he growled low and kissed you roughly. Hands roamed your body, and your dress was slowly unclasped from your body. Your chest became exposed, and the most beautiful red bra he had ever seen was on display upon your delicate body. Even Val's porn stars had nothing on the sight of you half undressed before him.

As if dreams were becoming reality, he shivered as you slowly pushed his jacket off and tugged him down by his dress shirt. Kissing him, you worked on his buttons, running your hands along his torso once it was freed. Both of you shivered in delight and need as the other touched what was finally theirs.

Vox kissed back down your neck, leaving marks all across you, and landed on your breasts. Each one gets a solid mark right on the top where your cleavage sat. His lips teased the sensitive flesh. His arms snaked around you as he lifted you gently to unclasp the bra. Once it was off, he could feel the drool not only on his tongue but his cock head as well.

He hummed in delight as he bowed down and wrapped his blue tongue around one perky bud, the other gaining his talons' attention as he made you mewl for him. He was in heaven—here, right now, was his little heaven with his little angel. He switched between the two buds until they were too sensitive from his menstruation. "V-Vox, please, too much...need more...please..." You didn't mean to sound like a young virgin, but it was all too good to feel any other type of way. Soon, you felt the pressure above you leave as he stood up at the edge of the bed. Gently, he took your leg, resting your foot on his chest. He kissed your ankle and calf, taking your tights from the garter on your thigh. Slowly, he took the garments off and got a perfect sight right up your dress. Your pretty red underwear was stained wet from your need.

"Tell me, Y/N, where do you need me most? What do you need most? Tell me, and I will happily deliver it all to you, doll, whatever you need." He sounded so good saying that. His voice was an octave lower as he was already pussy drunk. You whimpered gently and sighed when he moved on to the next leg, removing the garments

"Need you between my legs Vox, so so many toys...none of them you," Your words sent a spark through him. He now understood today's argument with Val; some toys in the production studio had been missing, and his little Vixen took them. He smiled wide and fell to his knees at the edge of the bed.

"Your wish is my command, doll," He grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him. He shoved your dress up higher on your hips, having it bunch up on your stomach. Slowly, he ran a claw down your clothed heat. With each stroke of his claw, his mouth moved closer from your knee to your core. He always managed to miss where you wanted him most, though.

When you went to complain, however, you were interrupted by the cold sting to your cunt as he ripped the panties off completely. You gasped and cried out when Vox's long slender blue tongue licked a deep stripe up your soaking cunt. "Taste so good, doll, like my own apple pie, so fucking delicious," His menstruations didn't stop there, however, as Vox began to devour you like a man starved.

Your legs spread wider for him as he slotted himself against your cunt. His tongue was making circles on your puffy bud. Your head was thrown back as you grasped onto the bed for dear life. You needed him. Each tongue swirls and thrusts, sending you one step closer to your breaking point. At some point, your legs began to close, and all you could feel was a thread snapping. Vox didn't let up, though. If anything, he abused your clit and sucked you dry further.

When you began to cry and beg for relief, he stopped and pulled up, climbing back on top of you and kissing you hungrily. You could taste yourself on him as you felt his need press against your cunt. You needed more. "Please, Vox, take me, please, please; I need to be full and stuffed."

He thought he had heard angels earlier. He was dead wrong. What he heard then and was now hearing were two completely different planes of reality. He made quick work of his pants and boxers as you resituated on the bed. He slowly crawled back over you, kissing you deeply again. When he got between your legs and slotted himself right where you needed him, you moaned quietly.

Slowly, Vox entered you, both holding your breaths and breathing out together. He was so big, filling you to the brim while you were tight on him. He finally opened his eyes when he bottomed out and saw the most beautiful sight. Your tummy bulged out where his cock sat. Groaning in need, he pushed down on the bump and growled. "Oh, look at this baby, look at how deep I am, I will fill you up so full."

You cried, nodding, holding on to him for dear life. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He felt so thick and full as he abused your cunt with his deliberate speed. However, you knew he was coming to an end as well; he was pent up just as long as you were, and as his hips stuttered, you finally felt it, the whole feeling you had wished for since seeing the TV man.

Sighing, he rolled onto his back, keeping himself slotted in you. He held your hand close, playing with your hair. "Stay with me, Y/N, let me give you everything after life can offer."

You hummed softly and nodded, your eyes growing heavy. Life with Vox would be perfect, and you couldn't have been happier that you, Y/N L/N, got to live the carefree life your great-grandmama once wished for.

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sheriffaxolotl · 10 months ago

Text

Fallen: A Path to Redemption (Chapter 1) Alastor x Reader

"Solace, you say? Well, my dear fallen friend, in Hell, solace comes with a price."

“What kind?”

♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡

As you walked through the dimly lit streets of Hell, a sense of foreboding washed over you, the very essence of the city casting a sinister spell upon your senses. It sprawled out before you like a twisted labyrinth, each turn leading deeper into the heart of sin and suffering. Pentagram City, as it was known among its residents, sprawled out in all directions, a sprawling city of sin and suffering that seemed to stretch on for eternity, or at least that is how it felt to you have come to view it now after all this time.

The buildings that lined the streets were a haphazard mix of architectural styles, their crumbling facades adorned with a color scheme that was only ever in a variety of red. Neon signs buzzed and flickered overhead, casting ominous shadows that danced along the cracked pavement below. The sickly glow they emitted bathed the streets in an otherworldly light, a haunting reminder of the darkness that permeated every corner of this forsaken city. You found yourself needing to look away from the neon lights at times – their intensity causing your eyes to strain. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, a putrid Odor that seemed to cling to everything it touched here. Demonic creatures and sinners slunk through the shadows of the city, their glowing eyes watching from the darkness with a predatory hunger and desperation. Tormented souls wandered the streets in a daze, their anguished cries blending with the distant wail of sirens and the rumble of infernal machinery.

"Ah, another lovely day in Hell," you muttered to yourself, your nose wrinkling in distaste as you navigate through the crowded streets. Despite your years in this infernal city, the sights and smells never failed to unsettle you, a constant reminder of the sin that surrounded you.

Despite the horrors that surrounded you, you continued to press on, driven by a sense of purpose that burned within your soul. For within the depths of Pentagram City, amidst the shadows and the suffering, lay the key to your salvation – or perhaps your damnation.

In your eyes, amidst the chaos and despair of Pentagram City's twisted landscape, there lay a strange beauty waiting to be discovered. Along the endless alleyways, vibrant murals adorned the walls of abandoned buildings, their colors a stark contrast against the gloomy surroundings. As you navigated the cracked pavements, the haunting melody of street performers filled the air, their voices intertwining to create a mesmerizing symphony that reverberated through the twisted alleyways. It would have been a captivating spectacle, if not for the crude and lewd nature of the performances that seemed to saturate the city's public spaces.

"Yep... just another day," you muttered under your breath, steeling yourself against the onslaught of sights and sounds that assaulted your senses.

Amidst the chaos, you remained a beacon of determination, your steps echoing softly against the cracked pavement. Despite the darkness that surrounded you, you pressed forward with unwavering purpose. As you approached cannibal town, you couldn't help but shudder, your eyes instinctively averting away from the sights and horrors that littered the streets. Yet, you continued on, fueled by a resolve that refused to be swayed by the gruesome reality of your surroundings. After all, you had a radio station to keep running, and nothing was going to stand in your way today.

"Keep moving forward," you reminded yourself, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that washed over you as you accidentally made eye contact with one of the sinners indulging in their gruesome feast by the side of the road. Hastening your pace, you focused your gaze ahead, determined to put distance between yourself and horrors of cannibal town as possible.

You were in a hurry today. Accidentally sleeping in had made you late to open the studio, and you knew you couldn't rely on looping music for too long before the sinners started to catch on. Despite the weight of your past bearing down upon your shoulders, you moved with a sense of purpose and determination, each step a testament to your unwavering resolve. Heavy bags sagged beneath your weary eyes, a silent testament to the sleepless nights and endless anxiety that had plagued your every waking moment recently. But today was not a day to dwell on fatigue or worry. Today, the radio station needed to be opened, and you were determined to make it happen.

"Just one foot in front of the other," you whispered, pushing onward through the chaotic streets.

But still, despite the ever-looming darkness that threatened to engulf you at every turn, you pressed forward, your eyes locked on the distant horizon. Ahead lay the radio station, a symbol of purpose and duty for you in a city consumed by chaos.

You had been blaming your recent unease and restless nights on the intensified thoughts of redemption that had been plaguing you recently. Yet, even amidst the uncertainty and fear, you clung to the belief that redemption was not merely a distant dream, but a tangible possibility waiting to be seized. In this labyrinth of sin and suffering, where despair lurked around every corner, you remained determined to confront whatever trials lay ahead. For you, the path to redemption was not just a journey—it was a destination worth fighting for.

With each step you took along the twisted streets, you felt the weight of centuries bearing down upon your shoulders, a burden that had grown heavier with each passing day. Despite the ever-present darkness that loomed over you like a suffocating blanket, you refused to be consumed by despair again. Each twist and turn of the twisted streets only fueled your determination, propelling you forward towards the elusive promise of redemption. It was a journey fraught with uncertainty, but you were prepared to face whatever trials lay ahead, for the chance to forge a new path and reclaim what had been lost.

Redemption.

The word echoed in the depths of your mind, tinged with bitterness and longing. It had been centuries since you had been cast into Hell, stripped of the ability to use your wings and left to wander the streets of this city alone. The memory of your fall from grace still lingered like a ghostly specter, a constant reminder of the choices that had led you to this place.

But it had led you to him.

As you traversed the dimly lit streets, memories of your fateful encounter with Alastor flooded your mind like an unstoppable tide. The recollection of that momentous day, spanning centuries past, consumed your thoughts with relentless intensity.

The memory of your first encounter with the enigmatic radio demon, when he had emerged as one of Hell's most dreaded overlords, lingered vividly in your mind. It was a day that left an indelible mark on your soul, altering the very course of your life.

The echoes of that momentous meeting resounded within you, every detail etched into your memory with unwavering clarity. It was a day of immense significance, shaping the intricate interplay between you and Alastor within the chaotic landscape of the underworld.

You could still see it all so clearly—the moment before you thought you stumbled into him, lost in the unfamiliar streets of the city, your heart heavy with despair and longing for solace in a new world that offered none. Your wings, once radiant and majestic, now hung limp and broken at your sides, a painful reminder of the fall from grace that had brought you to this wretched place. But even as you struggled to conceal your angelic identity beneath a makeshift cloak of filth and debris, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being hunted by unseen eyes that lurked in the shadows.

And then he appeared, like a specter emerging from the darkness, his presence as palpable as the weight of the world upon your shoulders. Alastor, with his piercing red eyes and the unsettling grin seemed to slice through the darkness like a blade. He sized you up with a predatory gaze, his gaze cutting through your facade with unnerving precision. You knew that he saw right through you, saw you for what you are under the filth and despair.

In that moment, you realized that Alastor knew exactly what you were – a fallen angel, stranded far from the heaven you once called home. And as he stood before you, his knowing smirk spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you in this infernal domain. Even as he offered that mock bow and spoke in that gentlemanly tone of his.

It was a meeting that would change everything, setting into motion a chain of events that would shape the course of your destiny in ways you could never have foreseen. For in Alastor, you saw not just a powerful demon, but a potential ally—a way to navigate the treacherous depths of Hell.

He extended his hand, a sinister grin stretching across his lips as he proposed the deal – a pact sealed in the very fires of Hell itself. In exchange for your soul, he offered you protection and guidance, a glimmer of hope in a world that had turned its back on you. It was a tempting offer, one born of desperation and fuelled by the promise of salvation in the face of unrelenting darkness.

In your moment of weakness, you had accepted, unaware of the true cost of your decision. He had seen your vulnerability, your need for solace, and he had preyed upon it with cunning precision. But deep down, you knew the truth – it was a transactional exchange, a bargain struck between two souls bound by desperation and necessity. And so, the deal was forged, the terms set in stone, and you found yourself inexorably bound to him by the chains of your own making. Little did you realize then the true nature of the bargain you had struck or the toll it would exact upon your soul in the days and years to come.

You can recall as the years passed you had found yourself becoming more entwined in Alastor's world. You began to see the true extent of his power and influence. He was not just a mere overlord, but a force to be reckoned with, a master manipulator who pulled the strings of Hell's darkest secrets. You struggled to keep up with him at first, for his idea of "guidance" meant putting you in the position of his assistant.

Despite the suffocating darkness that cloaked him like a shroud, there was something undeniably captivating about Alastor, something that drew you in despite your better judgment. It was a strange concoction of fear and fascination, a whirlwind of emotions that left you feeling both exhilarated and unsettled in his presence. Which was probably why you found yourself not completely out of sorts over the deal you had made. Hell, at times you found yourself becoming comfortable by his side.

He was unlike anyone you had ever encountered before, a force of nature unto himself, with a charm that was as beguiling as it was dangerous. His very essence seemed to exude chaos and unpredictability, and yet, there was a magnetic quality to him that you couldn't quite resist. It has been the reason you hadn’t resisted when you found yourself forming an acquaintanceship with the demon. You never forgot the fact that you formed a deal with him, but you also know you would have perished in hell without it. As the years passed, you found yourself increasingly entangled in his web, your role shifting from mere acquaintance to something deeper. Despite the shadow of your initial deal looming over your interactions, there were moments of genuine connection, where laughter and shared interests bridged the gap between the two of you.

But for all his allure, there was a darkness that lurked beneath the surface, a sinister quality that sent shivers down your spine. Beneath the charm and charisma, there lay a cruelty and arrogance that left a bitter taste in your mouth. You couldn't ignore the way he toyed with people's lives, finding amusement in their suffering as if it were mere entertainment for his twisted amusement.

It was a trait that you found repulsive, a stark reminder of the true nature of the demon before you. Despite any moments of camaraderie or shared interests, you kept him at arm's length, wary of the darkness that lurked within him. You refused to be drawn into his games, determined to maintain your sense of morality amidst the chaos of Hell.

"It was a good thing that you did as well," you remind yourself. The longer you remained within his grasp, it became painfully evident that he saw you as nothing but a pawn in his elaborate scheme. To him, you were merely another soul to be manipulated and discarded at his whim. The realization was like a cold slap to the face when you stop trying to see your deal through rose-colored glasses, pushing you to stay focused on your own motives and to keep in mind the true nature of the bond that bound you to him.

As the years unfurled like dark tendrils, you found yourself inexorably drawn into the intricate web of Hell's inner workings, your place at Alastor's side shaping your very being in ways you never thought possible. Together, you traversed the twisted pathways of infernal politics and power dynamics, your partnership born out of the necessity and survival in the unforgiving depths of the underworld.

With each passing day, you witnessed firsthand the extent of Alastor's influence, his mastery over the sinners of Hell a testament to his cunning and resourcefulness. You watched as he wielded his power with ruthless efficiency, his charismatic charm masking the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. It made scene why he was able to make so many deals.

And as you stood at his side, you found yourself undergoing a metamorphosis of your own. No longer did the trappings of your celestial heritage define you; instead, you embraced the sleek, mobster-inspired garb favored by Alastor. The celestial radiance that once emanated from you had dimmed, replaced by a darker allure that mirrored the sinister depths of your new reality. However, you clung to remnants of your celestial heritage, evident in the half-up crown braid adorning your head. In your eyes, it was a subtle attempt to retain a semblance of your former self, a last remnant of your symbol of a halo.

It wasn't just your outward appearance that changed as the years passed. With each passing day, you felt yourself growing more adept at navigating the streets of Hell, your mind sharpened by the constant challenges and intrigues that came with your role as Alastor's assistant. You don’t know when it happens. Perhaps it was after the passage of the first century since your fateful deal over your soul, but you couldn’t avoid being emerged as Alastor's trusted confidante in other eyes, your allegiance to him unwavering as you navigated the perilous currents of the underworld by his side.

With each challenge met and each intrigue unraveled, your wit grew, your mind sharpening like a finely crafted blade. You became adept at deciphering the subtle machinations of Hell's sinners, your insights becoming invaluable to Alastor as you worked in tandem to uphold his dominion over the ever-shifting landscape of the city. As his right-hand woman, you stood steadfast by his side, a formidable duo poised to conquer whatever obstacles lay in your path.

You could feel yourself falling into old habits by his side.

Until he disappeared.

In the wake of Alastor's sudden disappearance, you found yourself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, your current world thrown into disarray by the absence of the radio demon. For the first few weeks, you struggled to make sense of his sudden departure, your mind consumed by questions and doubts. You had gotten into a routine with the radio demon – weaving a new web of purpose that you had found to be rather manageable. You didn’t see this as an opportunity for freedom. Without Alastor, anything could happen to you in Hell without his protection. It had thrown you into a hole of despair – much like the stage you had entered Hell in.

But even in the midst of your confusion, you remained steadfast in your loyalty to Alastor. You refused to believe that he was gone for good – You had to, clinging to the hope that he would return to reclaim his rightful place at the helm of Hell's airwaves. Or you pray he did. You didn’t know how long you could get away without him being there before one of the overlords figured out what you were. If they did, you were sure it would result in a swift death or an eternity of torture. In hell, funnily enough, considering your situation. Maybe you just hoped he was okay because he had your soul in his possession. But you know the real reason. You were genuinely concerned for him. Even if you tried to keep him at arm’s length – you know you considered him a friend.

In those first few weeks of his absence, you had felt adrift, your once unwavering sense of purpose shaken to its core. You had spent countless hours wandering the dimly lit streets of Pentagram City, searching for any sign of Alastor's whereabouts, but to no avail. You decided to think that he would be relying on you to keep his radio studio alive, and you took on the task with fierce determination. Day and night, you tended to his affairs with meticulous care, ensuring that his presence remained felt even in his absence. You know at the end of the day it was a desperate attempt to find a purpose.

It was no small feat, keeping the radio scene alive and thriving in Alastor's absence, but you refused to let his legacy fade into obscurity. Mostly in the fear that you did, you might be done for. You poured your heart and soul into the task, channeling your energy into maintaining the electrifying atmosphere that had become synonymous with Alastor's name. It had been nerve-racking at first. You had never spoken over a radio before – let alone knowing that others would be listening.

And as the weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, you found yourself growing stronger and more resilient in the face of adversity. You had become a pillar of strength in Alastor's absence, a testament to your unwavering dedication to keeping a hold of this for your sanity or the hope that this would keep the other overlords away. And though you longed for the day when Alastor would return, you knew that you would continue to hold down the fort until that time came.

During this time, you did feel a sense of emptiness that seemed to gnaw at your own soul. You missed him. Maybe it was his way of speaking or how together you were able to enjoy moments listening to music – not feeling the need to make commentary or talk for hours. Him drinking his black coffee while you enjoyed the tea he despised so much.

Yet, during this time, you were able to find solace in the returning thoughts of a path of redemption that you had strayed from so long ago. You hadn’t thought about it for a while. Hell, you had been too busy while working aside from Alastor. But the more time you were by yourself, the more you thought about it. It started with small, hesitant steps – a whispered prayer offered up to the heavens in the dead of night, a longing to reconnect with the divine forces that had once guided you.

With each passing day, you felt the pull of your celestial origins growing stronger, a yearning deep within your heart to find your way back to the light. You sought solace in the rituals and practices that had once defined your existence, craving the sense of purpose and fulfillment that came with walking the path of righteousness.

Without Alastor there… maybe you would have a chance at it again. And though you knew that your journey would be long and arduous, you refused to give up hope. You clung to the belief that redemption was possible, even in the darkest corners of Hell, and you vowed to yourself to do whatever it took to find your way back to the light.

As you traversed the shadowy streets of Hell, a palpable sense of unease settled over you like a suffocating fog. The air was thick with tension, and an ominous foreboding lingered in the murky depths of the underworld. With each step, you felt the weight of your surroundings pressing down upon you, a relentless reminder of the darkness that pervaded every corner of your existence in Hell.

You are brought back to the present from your racing thoughts as the sound of demonic whispering and shouting can be heard as a group of sinners crowds TVs outside a store. You move closer as you stand on your tiptoes to look over the top of heads and horns. A bit of a bump here and there as more sinners crowded around. That’s when you saw it – a flickering projection of someone on the News. You soon recognized who the face and voice belonged to. Lucifer’s Daughter. Charlie Morningstar. And you were now huddled into a group of sinners as you watched Charlie’s latest blunder, cast upon a weathered screen for all of Pentagram City to witness. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine, a sickening knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Charlie was singing about something about a Hotel for sinners, the words blaring out from the television like a grotesque mockery of redemption.

Refusing to subject yourself to the spectacle of Charlie's folly, you averted your gaze and shuffled out of the crowd of sinners as you got back to the footpath. You quickened your pace, heart heavy with the weight of your responsibilities. The burden of your duties hung heavily upon your shoulders, a constant reminder of the role you played in the ever-unfolding drama of Hell. You might be able to get a few words in over what you just saw. Pull in a few extra listeners.

With determination etched into every line of your face, you focused on the familiar path leading back to the sanctuary of the studio, the comforting hum of routine beckoning you like a beacon in the darkness. Amidst the chaos and turmoil that engulfed you, you sought solace in the familiarity of your work, eager to find refuge amidst the swirling maelstrom of uncertainty that surrounded you.

As your hand reached out to grasp the familiar door handle of the studio, a sudden surge of energy crackled in the air, causing you to recoil in shock. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and a sense of foreboding washed over you like an icy wave crashing against the shore. Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you felt an invisible force wrap around you, pulling you into its grasp with irresistible strength.

With a startled cry, you stumbled backward, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat of dread. Darkness enveloped you like a suffocating cloak, swallowing you whole and leaving you disoriented and breathless. The sensation of being transported through space and time assaulted your senses, disorienting you in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

For a fleeting moment, you felt as though you were being torn apart at the seams, your very essence stretched thin and fragmented across the fabric of reality. Colors blurred and merged in a dizzying kaleidoscope of chaos, and the world around you seemed to warp and twist with each passing moment.

‘I guess it was nice while it lasted… Good lord, please make my death swift.’

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the tumultuous journey came to an abrupt halt, leaving you standing in the eerie silence of an unfamiliar place. Your heart raced in your chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain your bearings. You glanced around frantically, your eyes wide with alarm as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Wherever you were, one thing was certain – you were far from the safety of the studio, and the unknown loomed ominously before you like a specter in the night.

As the suffocating darkness finally lifted, you found yourself standing in the grand foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, your senses still reeling from the sudden transition. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy, and an eerie glow bathed your surroundings in a spectral light that sent shivers down your spine. Confusion and apprehension gripped you like icy tendrils as you struggled to make sense of your abrupt arrival.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in the silence of the cavernous space around you. The realization dawned like a bolt of lightning – You had been blindsided by Alastor's powers, whisked away to the hotel without so much as a warning. Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you in its relentless grasp.

Before you could gather your wits, Alastor's voice sliced through the silence like a knife, his words dripping with sinister amusement as he greeted you with a twisted melody. Your breath caught in your throat; you felt your pulse quickening at the sound of his voice. You turned slowly, your gaze meeting his crimson eyes glittering with mischief.

"And here is my dear assistant!" He exclaimed; his tone laced with a cruel kind of charm. "Truly a lovely beauty that fell from grace!"

A mixture of emotions swirled within you at his words. While there was a sense of joy at his return, there was also a wariness that lingered in the back of your mind. Despite the warmth of his presence, there was a chill that ran down your spine as you stood face-to-face with the Radio Demon. You were all too aware of the darkness that dwelled within him, the cruelty hidden behind his charismatic smile.

And yet, despite the shadows that surrounded him, there was a sense of comfort in his familiarity—a reminder of the bond you once shared - For better or for worse. As you bask in the glow of his presence, a sense of caution mingled with gratitude. You were grateful to have Alastor back by your side once more, even if it meant navigating the treacherous waters of his unpredictable nature.

With each passing moment, the realization settled in like a weight upon your shoulders – you were reunited with an old friend. And though you knew the challenges that lay ahead, you faced them with a renewed sense of awareness, knowing that Alastor's presence was both a blessing and a curse. ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿

My AO3 account!

Just a reminder that this is my first ever Fanfiction - Besides the Dabble I posted I've never really done anything like this before. As I mentioned in the announcement chapter of Fallen, I was into creative writing in high school. I never took it further than that because I'm super into art. Recently I've started to get pains in my drawing hand however so I thought I would pick up another hobby to be able to have a break but still allow me to have fun being creative.

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° I appreciate feedback and if you like this please check it out on AO3 to leave a kudo or comment °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I'm already planning to make some drawings for this as well - if you are interested in that my Instagram is @Ivory_Sketching

#alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x fallen angel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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