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letshavedeernnertogether · 11 days

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Heaven in hell

the plot is: you recall your memories from your hell life and understand that you don't need redemption, as being beside your dear friend is like being in heaven

tw: none (possibly grammar/spelling mistakes, i hope there are not a lot of them)

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You turned on the radio and opened your sketchbook. Sometimes you just looked through your sketches and drawings to trace the progress and to relive the moments that inspired you to draw. This sketchbook was the first thing you bought, when you found yourself in hell. Hell was extremely unpleasant, and you thought you could escape from it in your favourite hobby. You didn't like this place. It was... nauseous. So when you heard a commercial throuth the radio in show window about the hotel of redemption, the hotel that gave you opportunity to leave the stinking place, without hesitation you headed for it.

You didn't like hell, because you didn't really believe you deserved it. Well, you didn't also believed that you truly deserved to be in heaven. But you just didn't like that everyone and everything here was rude, aggressive, foul and filthy.

But somehow the hotel and its residents changed your mind. Now it was your home. You knew that there were good people in hell, and that hell had its nice places for strolls. There was something pleasant sometimes.

On the first page you saw a landscape. It was a view from the window from when you were alive. Longing and melancholy were seen in these blue and grey shades that was the sky. In hell the sky was always red, at noon and at night. And you hated it. At first. Now the crimson skies reminded you the eyes of someone dear. But you'd find his portrait later.

You turned the page and saw the first portraits. Charlie and Vaggie. These girls were your family now. Even in your living life you didn't face such care and love. They were like your sisters, sometimes you even felt yourself like their daughter, and you didn't mind. They were caring but strict, understanding and wise. They could always give an advice, and so could you. After all, Charlie and Vaggie had their problems too. It was nice to have somebody who was always ready to support you, to hear you out. You were grateful them for their kindness and tried to pay the same.

You looked at the portrait of Charlie. She placed her arms on the table and held an apple in her hands. She was smiling shyly. Her cheeks were rosy red and eyes were radiating happiness. Only now you understood that in this picture she looked like Girl with peaches, but with apples.

On the next page there was Vaggie. The first thought, when you saw her was "What a nose!" You liked her aquiline nose and already on your third day in the hotel you asked permission to draw her. Blushing, she permited. You drew her in profile from the side with her only eye.

Next page — another landscape, the view from the roof of the hotel.

A new song had started. You knew it rather well. It was the song Alastor taught you to dance to. And it was right on the roof from the drawing. You smiled at remembering.

He was so shocked, when you said you couldn't dance waltz. You thought you'd never seen him so dulled. It seemed that the whole world had ruined before his eyes. You chuckled remembering his astonishment.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

"You don't say so, darling!"

"But it's true!" You rubbed your neck and said, "Don't looked at me like this, Al! I feel ashamed."

"That's right, darling! You must be ashamed!"

You'd climbed onto the hotel's roof to draw the night view of hell. It was just fascinating. The little light spots of red, green and blue on the black shadow of the town with the foggy morron sky upon it. A red pentagram crossed the sky, its lines and angles repeated on the surface, deviding the Pride Ring into the discticts. A bright white sphere with halos and wings around it hung high in the sky — the heaven you once wanted to reach.

You brought Alastor's radio with you, because of some magic causes it could play absolutely everywhere, and you prefered to draw with the music. But it turned out that right very night Alastor also needed his radio. So he'd found you. But you didn't notice it until he commented on the music. And before you could come to your sense after the fright, Alastor extrended his hand to you and asked for a dance. But you refused, due to the fact you didn't know how to dance anything.

"C'mon, Al, stop staring at me like this, I really sorry! I can't... I can't dance with you." Until that moment you'd never regreted the lack of your skills in this type of activities.

Alastor still stared at you with his hand extending to you. You felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Al, I'm serious."

"And so am I." He straightened himself, turned around and walked to the other edge of the roof stopping in front of the iron railings.

His tone was frightening. You didn't hear smile in his voice, although you could perfectly see. You shook your head and returned to the drawing. Night wind tousled your hair, the sound of sirens came from below. How could it be? You didn't like this place, but peering at the horizon, breathing in the sulphur air and drawing the dark red lines of the town made you feel almost like you were at home. You glanced at the bright white ball in the sky. Do you really need it?

"Have you done, dear?"

You jumped up hearing the familiar static voice right beside you. You turned to face him and saw that Alastor was scrutinizing your work. You blushed as you didn't like it when somebody looked at your pictures before you finished them.

"My my, (Y/n)! You're talented one, aren't you?"

You blushed more at his sudden compliment. You never showed Aalstor your draws before, but hearing his praise made you wanted to show him more.

"Thank you," You said.

"Now my dear," He gave you his hand again, "Don't you think I'll leave a dear friend of mine in such a sad state when she's unable to even waltz?"

You looked up at him. Did he just call you friend? Well, in fact he was the first person you became close with in the hotel, but you never even dared to think about him like about a friend. You thought you were too small, too weak for him to find you endearing enough. But now...

"Are you sure?" You asked placing your hand in his palm.

Alastor chuckled, "Darling, I insist."

His right hand appeared on your shoulder-blade, and the left one held your palm tenderly.

"Just follow my steps," He said with a cunning smile.

You didn't have time to answer anything, the music changed, and he swirled you in dance. Without realizing it, you looked at his and your leg movements to follow him in the right way.

"Look at me, darling," He said in the tone sustaining no objection and he made you lift your head taking you by the chin.

Aalstor was much taller then you, and his steps were bigger. You hardly counted your steps and began to tiptoe to keep up with Alastor.

"Darling, we're waltzing and not running races." Despite his smile his tone was seriously. Like a strict teacher he couldn't stand any stupid tricks during the lesson.

You swallowed, "You're too fast, Al."

He hummed but slowed down.

He began quietly count the steps for you. He looked at you with a mocking sparkle in his eyes. You smiled at him and made a bigger step to be closer to him.

"I can handle it without your counting."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?"

You ignored how your heart missed a beat because of the new name and replied affirmatively.

"Well, if you say so." He said and accelerated.

The first waltz in your life was magical, and you even did it great. Alastor held you close and tight; you were swinging around the roof seeing only each other and nothing else; you heard only the music, your breath and your heartbeats. You were on cloud nine and suddenly thought that you didn't need Charlie to help you to redeem, you didn't need heaven. You were happy that very moment, in Alastor's arms and all you wanted was for the music to never end.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Since that day Alastor taught you dancing, and it showed up that you were a quiet talented dancer. Together you swinged to jazz or slowly waltzed around the same roof under the bright pink "Hazbin Hotel" sign. You found out that you enjoyed dancing as much as he did, something you thought would never happen. Every time he put his hands around your waist, or held your hands in his, or put his head on your shoulder during a slow dance, you felt yourself like in heaven.

The flashback faded away slowly just like the violins in the radio. You settled back and sighted. Every memory of dancing with him was like a precious pearl that you strung on a chain, and you didn't want to stop, until you'd make a long necklace like from the time where Alastor was from. And then you'd make a new one. And then another one, and another...

Turning the page, you saw figures of dancing couples and just lonely figures swirling in dance. You drew them to understand better the moves that Alastor taught you.

When you first appeared in the hotel you thought about writing a diary. You had so much experiences and you wanted to share them, at least with silent paper. But then you got acquainted with Alastor, you found out that you didn't want to share your feelings with anybody. These memories... They were so personal, so sprecious and dear, that you didn't want to share them even with paper. You didn't want to have artificial, insincere memories, and that's exactly what they would become if you write them down; they would turned into a tale, that wanted to be read, to be heard, to be retelled. But they were yours and his only. Nobody had the right to own them. So you refused the idea of starting a diary. Instead of this you filled the sketchbook with the precious moments you lived through.

You turned the page and saw unfinished portrait of Niffty. This little demon was just awful model. She was hyperactive and just couldn't stay in one place and one pose for more than two minutes. You couldn't blame her, but it was just a pity that this portrait had been painted for a week already.

A cheerful music sounded form the radio and you turned the next page. Suddenly the sound of trumpets began to be accompanied with the screams of suffering and distress. Usually they weren't heard during the day hours, but evidently this day was an exclusion. You were staring at the radio listening to the screams. Hm, how possible was it for you to be one of them? As it was said before, Alastor became your first friend, not only in the hotel, but in the whole hell. Some part of you was proud of yourself that you became friends with the Radio Demon himself, but the other part still couldn't believe that it was true and that he really cared about you.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You woke up earlier than others and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You arrived in the hotel previous night very late, and only Charlie and Vaggie saw you. They promised to acquaint you with the residents in the morning.

You were sitting at the table waiting, when the kettle would boil, when someone entered the kitchen. You looked up and saw him. He froze in amusement looking at you.

You sat moveless. He looked like a vision, too beautiful to be true, and you didn't want to make any move fearing that he could disappear if you shake the air.

He had deep red eyes that glowed a little. A smile with big sharp teeth was terrifying but captivating somehow. He was extremely tall, about seven feet you thought, and slim, but his shoulders were wide and the posture straight. You couldn't take your eyes off the ears on the top of his head. They were red with black tips just like his hair, and very big. Between the ears you noticed little antlers, that were too cute to the owner of such fangs and claws.

He was the first to come to his senses. He came up to you, bent himself in waist and approached his hand to you saying,

"Good morning, darling. The name's Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you."

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Your first meeting wasn't something extraordinary; with other residents you got acquinted in the same kitchen an hour later. But Alastor was the only one who fascinated you so strong. Chating with the new acquaintances your thoughts constantly returned to him. And then your gaze fell on the red demon, and you saw that he was gazing at you, as if he never took his eyes off you.

In the beginning you didn't speak with each other too much, but you stared a lot. And you both did it openly. (which caused a lot of Angel's obscene jokes.) You were never the first to turn away, no matter how intently Alastor looked at you and how wide was his gleaming smile. So your staring contest ended only when somebody called you or Alastor, and then you sighed in relief, gladly that that strange tension, that strange game between you finally was over.

If the eyes were reflection of soul then his soul was the hell's sky, the blood of dead, the still beating heart, the rubies, the roses. They were the colour of your home.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You were sitting in the library near the fireplace waiting for Alastor to come. The dinnertime had passed, and you knew, that after dining Alastor usually spent his evening in the library. You often sat there together, and you discussed the read books for hours, as your taste in literature was similar. You could do a deep analysis of the works, or you could laugh at the actions of the characters and sometimes even at the author’s message. But this time you were waiting for him not to share the opinions on another novel.

You heard the sound of opening and closing door and oncoming steps. Before Alastor appeared from the bookshelves you saw his long shadow creeping on the carpet. You moved the box of pastel, that was on the armchair, closer to your hip and pressed the album to your chest.

"Oh, what a surprise, my dear! I didn't expect to see you so early!" Exclaimed Alastor with an astonished smile. He was right, usually it was he the one who waited for you. When you came he could already read three big chapters of a book.

"Haha yeah," You said chuckling awkwardly.

"What book are you reading, dearest?" He asked sitting down in the armchair by your right in front of the fireplace. He crossed his legs and put a book on his lap. You didn't have time to see the cover. His gaze fell on your album. You swallowed. He won't say no, will he? At least your offer was somewhat adulatory, and it could flatter his vanity.

"Well," You began, "I'm here not to read with you." He cocked his eyebrow smiling at you without showing his teeth. "I want to offer you something."

"I'm all ears."

"Do you mind if I draw you?"

Silence. Only firewoods were crackling in the hearth.

"Hmmm," He said with the same smile and lowered his gaze in the opened book. Seriously? Is it all?

Before you let your anger turn into the words, still looking in the book, Alastor asked,

"Do you like this book, because the heroine is an artist too?"

"What?"

Only now you recognized the cover and the author's name on the book. "The tennant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Brontë. It was your favorite story of all the books by Brontë sisters. And you reread it when you firstly found this library. You recommended your friend to read it, but you were not sure that he'd do it, it was a romance after all.

"Oh, no! There are more important things to like this book," You said and Alastor slowly moved his glance at you. You knew he was going to ask you about the reasons, so you didn't give him time to even open his mouth, and continued, "So what about drawing?"

He returned his gaze at the pages again.

"You don't need to do anything," You exclaimed, "You can read the novel, and I will-"

"I know how you do your work, dear," He said. His gaze was already running along the lines from left to right. He started reading. "I agree."

Without asking twice, you opened the sketchbook and the box with pastel crayons.

There was something intimate in drawing someone you knew, especially someone you liked. You slowly but surely traced lines, denoting the body, furniture, clothes. Your movements were smooth and gentle, as if you were not painting his portrait, but touching him. Alastor sat cross-legged in the armchair with a straight posture, but his shoulders were relaxed; the opened book lay on his knee, one hand held it, the other one prepared to turn the page. His gaze slowly floated over the letters. Sometimes he frowned subtly, and sometimes his smile grew wider.

There were only two light sources: the fireplace and the standard lamp behind Alastor's armchair, and it was enough to make the picture warm and cozy. The honey firelight illuminated Alastor's face and hair, and you carefully traced thin coppery red lines where his hair shone. The shadow from his monocle fell on his cheekbone and looked like a tear. The shadow of his bang fell on his eyes, and you used a bright shade of ruby to capture the light of his eyes.

You carefully drew his hands, the hardest but most favorite part. You noticed that his hands were ungloved, but still black or even deep dark mahogany. The claws were red and sharp. The fingers were long and thin, very elegant. You industriously drew the knuckles trying to capture the elegance mixed with the strength.

You were sitting in cozy silence for several hours. You were drawing the most handsome man of all you'd seen, while he was reading the book you recommend him. You felt the warmth coming not only from the fireplace, but also from your own heart and soul. The calm and relaxed smile of Alastor made you feel peacefully; the crackling of the firewoods and the rustle of pages made the place homey.

The warm red shades of pastel began to end. Your fingertips were the same colour as Alastor's ones. Although you'd been here for more than three hours already, the fire was still bright and warm. You stopped colouring and looked at your model.

Alastor was looking at you from drooping eyelids resting his head on the fist and softly smiling.

For some time you were looking at each other. Then Alastor stood up and slowly came to your seat stopping from you left. He leaned over and looked at the drawing over your shoulder. Your cheeks almost touched and you felt the warmth of his skin. You could hardly control your own breathing. You felt the urge to breath deeper, but you was afraid, that Alastor would find something strange in your behavior, so you tried to make small breaths, and you were almost suffocating. The heart was beating wildly, and you were sure that Alastor could hear it because of his giant ears.

"Am I really that handsome?" He asked still staying in the same pose. You felt his blazing gaze on you. You knew how he was grinning this moment without looking at him.

"You are," You answered honestly. Why should you lie or make up something?

You closed your eyes and were waiting for jibes or maybe even something worse, but your expectations were not met.

You felt warm and soft lips on your cheek. You opned your mouth in astonishment but kept on your eyes closed. His kiss was gentle, weightless and lasted only for a second, but it burnt deep your skin to the very soul.

"Thank you, dearest," He whispered in your skin, and you felt how every letter touched you. The goosebumps still ran on your body even after he left.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Turning the page, you saw another portrait of him. Alstor didn't pose for this one, it was drawn just from your head. He was standing half-turned in profile slightly throwing his head back. He was looking directly at you from half drooping lids. Corners of his lips curled in a cunning smile. It was an elaborate pencil drawing that you really liked.

It was last work in your sketchbook. There still were no portraits of Angel and Sir Pentious. You wanted to draw Vaggie one more time and you wanted to draw her with Charlie. Of course you wanted to picture more landscapes and especially you wanted to draw the woods from Alastor's room. He once invited you in his room, and you were captivated with the magic forest. It was your favorite place in hell.

You were the one of the few who believed in Charlie's idea. You believed that a sinner could be forgiven, be redeemed and go to heaven. And honestly, you wouldn't be mind to spend your eternity in heaven with your friends. You believed you all had a chance. You knew it.

But you also knew there was a man who would never go to heaven. He just didn't need it. Alastor didn't need forgiveness or absolution. And in fact you didn’t need it either, because he was everything you need. Whatever the angels and seraphim, the rulers of hell, or even God himself offered you, you would never refuse him. While he was there dancing with you, making you laugh, cooking your favorite dish for you; while he allowed you to study his soul and mind, and he studied yours; while he jealously guarded you letting everyone know that you were his friend; as long as you were together nothing would make you leave hell, the place where he belonged to.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

invitation for deernner: @noraunor

weeeell..

i was very sad and tried to cheer myself up by writing... something /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

furthermooore the next fic i'll post is the second part of doll demon story, so stay tuned~

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x y/n

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shinynewboots · 2 months

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Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 3

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Welcome to chapter 3! Def one of my favorite chapters so far. I loved writing the dialogue for this! I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny eventually

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Hell Princess allowed Lute to stay with Adam for the following days (though Lute did not give her much of a choice). She sat vigil by his bed in a chair that the Princess had given her so that she would no longer have to sit on the floor. The Princess had even had a cot moved into the corner of the room so Lute could get some sleep.

Sleep very rarely came for Lute, though.

Exhaustion did not exist in heaven. Winners slept mostly due to the routine and comfort sleeping gave them from their previous lives. Heavenborn slept less frequently as it was not necessarily needed, but it did offer a boost in power. Lute would always sleep for days post-extermination.

But now? This overwhelming exhaustion was unlike anything she had experienced in her long life. She sat in the chair at Adam’s side and could feel her head droop and her eyes grow heavy. She fought against the grip of exhaustion only because if he woke up she wanted to be there at his side, giving all the support she could.

The Princess would hand-deliver meals to Lute, with Vaggie always 2 steps behind. Lute normally did not eat the meals, but Charlie tried all the same.

The day Charlie brought bandages to change out Adam’s dressing was a bad one. Lute had snatched the bandages from her hand.

“What the fuck,” Vaggie exclaimed, raising her spear. Lute sneered at the fallen angel and turned towards Adam. She could do this. She could change his bandages. She could keep him safe.

“Lute,” Charlie said softly. “We can help.”

Lute didn’t turn but instead pulled down the blanket covering Adam and began to remove the soiled bandages. It was difficult to do with one arm and she wasn’t able to pull the bandages out from under his body. Her wounded arm strained up the pressure it was put under. Tears welled in her eyes but she would not dare turn to face them. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and the taste of iron filled her mouth.

A hand gently touched her good shoulder. Lute flinched.

“Let me help,” Charlie pleaded softly. Lute did not meet her eyes but instead shoved the bandages back in Charlie’s hand and backed away from the bed, her gaze never leaving Adam. She could feel her wings furl around her body in an attempt at comfort.

She felt useless, more so than she ever had in her long life.

She heard Vaggie sigh behind her. “You need your bandages changed too.”

Lute turned to glare at Vaggie. “I’ll do it myself.”

She glanced down at her bandaged arm and took in the cloth soiled with dried blood. The arm ached and throbbed, but she would never tell Vaggie that.

Vaggied scoffed and rolled her eye. “Fine, get an infection. See if I care.”

The pair turned their attention to Charlie who had begun to hum very loudly as she changed the bandages. Lute could have sworn she heard Charlie sing the words It starts with sorry…

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose and took in a deep breath. “Don’t be an idiot and just let me change your bandages and then I promise we will stay out of each other’s general vicinities for the next few days.”

“Fine,” Lute replied, unfurling her wings from around her body. She sat in the chair at the bedside as Vaggie cleaned the bandages. Lute bit her lip at every touch to keep from crying out in pain. When Vaggie took off the bandages, Lute was able to assess the true damage to her arm. It was not a clean amputation (which, why would it be when she pulled it out from under the rubble). It had crude stitches placed on it haphazardly. The stitch sites themselves were surprisingly clean with no sign of purulent drainage.

Vaggie cleaned the wound with a look of intense concentration on her features. Lute was immediately taken back into a ghost of a memory of Vaggie decades prior with that same look on her face. She couldn’t remember the setting or the event but that look sent an awkwardly uncomfortable feeling down Lute’s spine. She couldn’t help but stare at the “x” where Vaggie’s eye used to be.

She looked away from Vaggie and turned her attention back towards Adam. In the past few days, his skin had regained some of its color but his face still had a deathlike pallor. His mouth was set in a slight grimace and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Done!” Charlie exclaimed, gathering her materials. “Would you like to come down to dinner and meet everyone?”

Lute sent Charlie a cold look. “I can assure you Princess, no one wants to meet me.”

Charlie wrung her hands awkwardly. “Well I mean, um, it's not like anyone is opposed to meeting you uh, I mean um, you should come join us. Everyone is really excited to meet you!”

“I doubt that,” Lute deadpanned. She turned her attention back towards Adam. Lute heard Charlie take in a deep breath to further try and convince her to join. She heard Vaggie softly mouth “Let’s go”. Lute breathed a sigh of relief when the couple left the room.

She moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. She ran her hand through his hair softly. His facial features relaxed as she did so. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.”

Lute had at some point during the night returned to her post (i.e. sitting in her chair) and dozed off. She had switched out her previous weapon of choice (the lamp) for a fork that she held clutched in her right hand as she slept.

“Fuck,” She heard the pained whispers of her beloved leader. Her eyes shot open to see Adam thrashing on the bed. His work of breathing had increased and quick pants were escaping his mouth. His eyes were still closed, though this time scrunched together in pain. She jumped up from the chair and stood at his side.

“Fu-ck,” He breathed out again.

“Sir.” Lute whispered in an attempt not to scare him. He began thrashing around even harder. Realizing he would open his stitches, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel all of her core muscles engage as she balanced over him to not fall on his wounded torso.

“Adam,” She said again, this time louder and more forceful. His golden eyes opened and Lute was immediately reminded of a wounded animal looking for a place to hide. He did not focus on her at first, his eyes instead darting around the room.

“Adam,” She said again softly. He turned and looked up at her; his breath beginning to settle into a normal rhythm. His thrashing ceased, though she did not change the pressure she held on his shoulder.

“Lute,” He breathed out. “Fuck. What—what?”

“You were stabbed and fell unconscious. I sent the rest of the exorcists back to heaven and tried to take you back there with me. The portal closed before I could make it and we fell. Hell Princess had Lucifer save us. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save us.” Lute said slowly, a gnawing feeling of anxiety and despair finding a home in her stomach.

“Fucking, shit, you tried to take me back?” He whispered (as quietly as Adam could whisper) and attempted to sit up. He groaned and grabbed for his wounded torso. His face contorted into pain. She pushed down on his shoulder harder.

“Don’t try to move. You’ll open the stitches.”

“Why would you try to save me?” He breathed out. Lute felt an odd flutter in her chest at the way he looked up at her. Her eyes softened.

“I couldn’t leave you.” She answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. And to her, it was.

“You crazy bitch,” He whispered, his tone holding more affection and awe than the words themselves. She smirked, never having been more happy to hear Adam’s crass language. He reached his hand towards her bad arm. She flinched away and released his shoulder from her grip.

“What happened to your fucking arm?” He asked, eyes wide. Was that concern she saw? Anger?

“I-uh, was trapped under some rubble. It was the only I could escape.” She admitted, her cheeks growing red at the revelation. She knew she was weak. A disgrace. Admitting so to him made it all the worse.

“Lute, that’s so fucking badass!” He exclaimed, jerking his body closer to hers. Of course, this led him straight into a coughing fit due to the sudden movement. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I said don’t move, dumbass.” She said before she could help herself. “Sir,” She added for good measure.

Adam grinned up at her, his boyish features finally revealing themselves out from under the pain.

“You fucking saved me,” He said, more to himself than her, and shook his head. “Where the fuck are we anyway?”

“The Hell Spawn’s Hotel.”

Adam frowned. “You mean that lame-ass hotel?”

Lute pinched the bridge of her nose with her hand and sighed. “I didn’t have a say in where we ended up.”

“I know,” Adam said, his tone more understanding than she had ever heard. “We’ll just have to get out of here and head to the embassy.”

He moved as though trying to sit up but Lute stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. “You’re not well enough to go anywhere. I don’t like the idea of staying with these freaks either, but there’s no way we would make it to the embassy in our current states. I’m useless without my arm and you can’t even sit up without popping a stitch.”

“Hey, don’t ever fucking say you’re useless ever again.” He replied, his eyes darkening. Acknowledging defeat, he laid back down on the bed and sighed.

That weird flutter in Lute’s chest grew and all she could do was nod at his words. She pulled her hand from his chest and sat back down in the chair.

“I thought I heard talking!” A voice at the door exclaimed. Speak of the Hell Spawn and she will appear (with her pathetic girlfriend in tow). “I'm so glad you’re finally awake! And like not dead! You did kill one of my friends though. Sir Pentious, was on track to be one of our first redeemed souls. But oh my satan you’re not dead!”

Adam eyed the hell-spawn warily, his eyebrows scrunched. Lute had jumped from her chair and grabbed her fork weapon, standing at his bedside.

“You have to get the rambling from your fucking dad because Lilith didn’t run her mouth like that.”

Charlie sent him a strained smile. “What a weird thing to say to someone unprompted.”

“Especially someone who saved your life,” Vaggie added, her tone biting. Lute and Vaggie glared at each other.

“No no, someone who tried to kill me, almost succeeded, and then decided to save my life. Let’s get that shit straight.”

“I really don’t think you want to have the conversation about who tried to kill who right now,” Vaggie sneered. Adam smirked but conceded.

“Positive thoughts, positive energy!” Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands to try and regain control of the situation. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone stabbed me in the fucking back.”

“Well, I,—I guess that's an appropriate feeling,” Charlie replied, her cheery facade slipping with every second she stayed in the room.

“Did you two want something,” Lute asked, her voice low as she stared at Vaggie’s spear.

“Uh, just checking since we heard voices. Um, dinner? How about I bring dinner. I can bring dinner, I can bring you both a great dinner. Um, and, uh cards! I can bring you two some cards to play with since you’re still recovering.” Charlie tripped over her words, her face turning red as she turned towards Vaggie. “Why don’t we just go and get that?”

Vaggie nodded at her girlfriend, though her gaze never left the two angels. The pair left the room, even going so far as to close the door due to Charlie’s embarrassment. Lute could hear them whisper out the door:

“They’re so unfriendly and I feel like I keep saying the wrong thing. Were you this unfriendly as an angel?”

“Charlie, I’m unfriendly now.”

“Fair point.”

The voices outside the door got too far away for Lute to hear. She turned to Adam and lowered the fork in her hand. “Nice weapon, Danger tits.”

“I’m always resourceful.”

“Hell Spawn is literally the most awkward person I’ve ever met. That conversation alone almost makes me wish they had killed me.”

Lute frowned.

“Lighten up, bitch. I said ‘almost’.”

Lute sent him a wry smile. “You should get some rest.”

“You’re not my mom,” He said though before he could keep a yawn from escaping. Lute raised an eyebrow. “Okay yeah, fine maybe I should. But not because you said so.”

“Of course.”

He settled back into the bed and yawned again. He sent her an odd look, some unknown glint in his golden eyes. “Lute, I really appreciate you. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

She smiled softly. “Of course. Adam.”

#fanfiction #hazbin hotel #fanfic #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #staring at the sun #hazbin hotel adam #adam x lute #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x lute #helluva boss #guitarspear

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hisui555 · 3 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel thoughts bonus

"Reacting to a drawing of them"

Hazbin Hotel thoughts (Hell cast + babysitting kids) here

Hazbin Hotel Bonus 2 (Heaven cast + kids and drawings) here

Masterpost here.

(Because sleeping on it after writing the main thing gives me more ideas apparently. Funny how that works.)

So yeah, my two braincells rubbed together during my bout of nightly unconsciousness (one of the times it can happen without any danger) and coughed up this bit : how would the cast react to a kid giving them a drawing of themselves ? (Quality notwithstanding)

Starting with the obvious, Charlie would be overjoyed. Tears in her shiny puppy-dog eyes, thousand-watts smile, might start hyperventilating in happiness, squeezing the drawing to her chest and fanning herself, and the second she has her breath back it's all VAGGIE !! Look at that ! Look at that everyone !!! running a marathon all over the Hotel. This one is going with the portraits on the walls, so that everyone can see, or on the fridge, whatever, as long as the masterpiece is in everyone's sights at almost all times. Bear-hugs the child at least once, shower of kisses optional. Before you know it she breaks out the crayons and paper and engages in co-drawing activity, oversharing and just being happy - and maybe dragging everyone into it, whether they're willing or not. At the end of the day, no-one knows if those are kiddie drawings or actual Hotel Activities Plans, there might be a script about how to counter bullying with rainbows lost somewhere in the middle.

Vaggie wouldn't really know what to do, but still be touched, even if skeptical about the actual product ("Oh, oh, that's... me ? Uh... why is a triangle planted into my head ?" "It's your hairbow !" "Ah... and that hook in the middle of my face ?" "It's your nose !" "...Yyyyeah... and that stick going through Alastor ?" "Your spear, because you're always mad at him !" "Y'know what, that's the least objectionable part of this whole thing.") but will decide to keep it, and softly smile at it once she gets used to the stick-figure that's supposed to represent her, keeping it in her common room with Charlie (who will squeal with happiness seeing it, and insist it should be on their bedroom wall, them's the rules). Might deliver her thanks later (either skeptically or heartfelt), but knows the intention isn't malicious.

Angel is just plain happy : he loves it. He knows it's bad quality, the way his legs bend is questionable at best, that gold tooth takes half of his face and the eyes are looking in opposite directions, but it's a gift and even Fat Nuggets is drawn on it and he loves it. Might crack a light innuendo or two that he knows will go over the kid's head (How come I'm not on a bed ? It's my natural element, ya know) until someone (probably Husk, more often than not Vaggie) bops him on the head to make him stop. He'll keep it in his room, either around his mirror or on his door like the other photos, so anytime he goes in there or at his desk to prep up he'll see it. Helps his bad days become more bearable, and makes his good days even better.

Husk is very much used to an explanation of why a bunch of two potatoes with spiky claw-ended sticks poking out of 'em, two triangles on his head and flappery estimations of wings sticking out of his back is supposed to be him, so he won't comment on it at all : when an ankle-biter tells you that those two potatoes, sticks for limbs and hay for hair is supposed to be you, you become immune after a while why yes I have siblings, why do you ask. Kid also didn't forgot his perpetual frown, though those eyebrows fill half the page on their own alone. But he'll thank them, and pack the drawing away under his counter. Everyone wants to see it (Alastor mainly to rib on him), searching where Husk could have pinned it, but it mysteriously disappeared. What nobody knows is that he actually put it in the (perpetually empty and useless) cash drawer, will open it from time to time and smile at it.

Alastor, ever the gentleman, will politely accept the offering, making a whole show out of it - and backhandedly praising it with subtle mockery that he knows will fly over the kid's head (A fan submitted your host quite the original interpretation of his likeness ! Why, I've never seen something this adventurously abstract since Cubism* ! Good thing we all know how THAT one ended, ha ha !), but keep it nonetheless, because it's about him. And as we all know, modesty is the mark of great gentlemen like him. He'll pin it somewhere he doesn't go often, but that will still fall into his sight from time to time, pat the artistic fellow on the head for good measure and be on his way. If offered many pics, he'd jokingly make a rating out of it, entertaining himself with seeing the efforts put into it and the kid always coming back to show their latest production. Curiously, the primitive art-style reminds him of something similar he saw once, on TV, when some nobody tried to assess himself and ended up failing spectacularly. Hm. Must've been déjà vu. (*Cubism is from the 1910-1920s at its beginning by the way - more precisely 1907 - so Alastor might have caught wind of it and decided someone made a huge mistake, before he died in the 30s)

Niffty would take it, smile, blink, look, blink some more, then offer critique that her head is not that big, the arms too short, her hair doesn't stick out that way, prattle off everything about it that she finds could be better without point or comma, then conclude with a chirpy but thanks anyway ! and goes to frame it and hang it in the main hall, zips back, gives a pat on the head, and is off chasing bugs or cleaning. She isn't particularly moved or touched by the picture but will make sure no spec of dust can be found on the frame.

Sir Pentious would absolutely treasure it. In secret. Nobody can know how moved and teary-eyed this makes him (everyone already knows anyway). It looks more like a multi-eyed slug with a top hat and a strange case of bed hair, but even the Egg Bois are drawn on it (and more accurately - can't exactly fail that part, right ?) and it's just the sweetest thing to him. Even better if he's drawn activating what approximately looks like machinery and with complete explanation that he's a general with an awesome blimp (nevermind kids being easily impressed anyway). That one goes into the secret HQ room right away. Kid might be promoted second-in-command the next hour.

The Vees :

Vox would have a second or two of mental what am I supposed to do with this, before clocking in that it's him (the square TV head gives it away. The blitzing electricity around his hands too. At least it gives the whole thing a sense of up and down). And the fact that the scrawly handwronging reads "mR. B0x" all over the page. He would give an incredulous chuckling thanks, smile keeping in place in frozen confusion, before setting it aside and give an uncertain pat on the head by automatism. This might encourage the kid to explain their drawings, identifying the blue rakes at the end of his arms as your super sharp claws, the circled red splotch on his face as your super power-eye, the even more ridiculously small top hat and out-of-control antennas as well, what they are, the striped suit (with the stripes outside the suit), the unpractically pointy shoes, and you can do lightning and it's super-cool, and Vox tries to not internally cringe at how close it is to his popsicle design overall (he'll need to redo that one), but the second he hears the word 'cool', here comes the dopamine. The kid finds him cool. After an inner jubilation of take that Alastor ! he decides to keep it, but not in public. More like in his personal appartment, sticking it somewhere on the fridge or in a corner of the room that's not too visible, but he knows it's there. Can't let anyone know about it and point out that his own drawing skills are even lower than that : one time he grabbed one of the kid's drawing by accident and people thought he actually improved. But one of his first orders of business after deciding the ego-boost felt good is correcting the spelling, making the kid practice it (Vox. Vvvvox. Like Voom, Vloops, Vrive, Vatch, Voxtek -) to the voint ov instauving a vpeech imvediment.

For Velvette, well, that kid might as well have a double-death wish. The pic hurts her eyes. That's supposed to be her ?! This ?! This mishappened creature - not even a homunculi - that crawled out of whatever wretched womb after it had already be pushed back once ? Even the man-apes from the dawns of time scribbling on cave walls were better. She's about to launch into a more virulent tirade when she notices the tears starting, and two ideas cross her mind, strutting in and linked by the hand : one, she doesn't want to deal with kiddie tears, you can't fire the brat you're babysitting. Two, this is prime shaming material for her employees - check that out : see what that kid can do ? Your cloth design is even worse, stupid, and you don't even have the excuse of not knowing how to color inside the lines yet ! So she'll plaster a smile on and ask for more, keeping them around and pulling a spot the differences - right, there's none between her employees' work and the pics. Funnily enough, this indirectly helps the kid improve (in realistic measure) and Velvette will find herself accidentally inspired by a detail or two, doing a double-take on the pic, before discreetly incorporating it into her work. She'll never admit it. That, and actually taking the 'design' as-is to knit the ugliest pair of sweaters she can and offer them to Vox and Valentino as a joke on a day they particularly aggravated her. Alongside a "hat of shame" for her worst worker, like a substitude donkey cap. Mocking the whole thing on social media becomes her outlet, and she looks forward to the next crayon abomination the oblivious kid will produce.

Valentino would faux-praise anything to high heavens, then forget it on a table and not miss it if the cleaners threw it away in the meantime. Oh, where did your drawing go ? Ah, don't worry cutie, uncle Val keeps it in a special place ! (the trashbin). However, anything that's about him, he'll keep, more or less, for some moments (before again forgetting about it), but the extra-cool ones deserve some mention : that one when his majestic wings are outspanned in all their glory, even if his body is a weird asymetrical patchwork with his head too small for his hat, yeah, that one he'll at least put in a drawer. Then forget about it and be surprised next time he opens that drawer and finds it again, remember, smile, and close it once more. When enough drawings have disappeared by mysterious circumstances, he'll avoid making the kid upset and instead go hey, I have an idea, cariño/cariña, why don't you keep them for me, hm ? Y'see, uncle Val is incredibly busy, and can't think for everyone, so how about you do that for me ? and the kid will mostly agree, but still wants to show them to him. So he gets the idea of signing them, as a stamp of approval. Then it turns into a game of him signing every drawing, because he loves putting his name on it, and encourages doing more pics of him, and did I mention how he likes when it's about him ? I thought it was too subtle.

The other Overlords :

Rosie will kindly sit next to the child while they draw, chitchatting with them and playing along (Oh ? So is that my hat ? I see you pay attention to detail, sweetie. The color you chose for my dress is lovely, but have you considered that shade of red ? I think it'll fit better), though mainly trying to instaure a better sense of colors than the clashing red/green disaster that's currently happening. She'll like everything that's presented to her, gently guide through and nitpick a bit on the details (Draw inside the lines, darling, you're an artist after all !) for improvement. While she might not hang them around her house (least of all her workplace) because crayon is forever divorced from her general aesthetic, she'll keep an album of them.

Zestial would be quite surprised : a kid offering him a drawing ? Hasn't happened since last century. And it's him to boot ? Well, the gesture is nice. He'll keep it, or ask Carmilla to keep it for him. Might provide commentary and be needed to remember that five to eight years old don't have the same fine motor control and sense of perspective as Renaissance artists.

Carmilla would be perfectly normal about it, she's used to that, just like Husk. A drawing of her is met with a smile, she looks proud of it, and she'll probably keep it on her private desk at home (not at work, she's a weapons dealer and that might distract a bit from the seriousness of trade), in a frame, or like Rosie in an album. She might give points and tips to improve, otherwise she's just content letting the kid do whatever they want on that front.

The one I forgot :

LUCIFER, for hell's sake ! The guy's a dad. As a babysitter, he'll be the goofiest around, hyper and joyful and sometimes maybe a bit too much in wanting to constantly awe them, expect a rollercoaster ride of doing awesome things and napping like there's no tomorrow from all the exhaustion. He'll play with the kid nonstop, always being around, and when not agreeing to something will find a way to break out the "no" in a non confrontative and absolutely silly way ("Nnnnuhuhuhuuuu !" - top quote of 2024 for me, people). Really acts out the stories he's telling, he's a theater dad, dangit - to the point that anyone entering in the room can't tell who's the child and who's the adult. Will often talk about oh, you know, when Charlie was younger she did that just like you ! It was adorable. Best for bedtime stories, and general roleplaying - he'll 'faint' for 6 minutes and a half straight, and blame gravity afterwards. Great at distracting from dangerous stuff, to the point the kid doesn't know there even was danger. He'll just forget which rubber duck can spit fire and which doesn't, but once he realizes his mistake, whopee ! it's gone. Dealing with tantrums ? He'll just let the kid tire themselves out, until he can get his point across and make sure they'll listen. Might even add lalalaaa, can't hear you, talk to me once you're done~ and just be around doing his own things while keeping an eye on them. He'll always be around, but will let the kiddo have time for themselves and play on their own if they wish to.

A drawing of him ? The guy smiles so bright it lights up the whole room. He'll praise it to sky highs, even overpraising, like it's the second coming of Leonardo Da Vinci. Being someone creative himself, he'll be fully on board with drawings - sometimes accidentally one upping the kid in his enthusiasm and unwillingly creating an inferiority complex in the process. This is quickly resolved by offering to work together, and he likes nothing better than the patchwork of ideas and raw imagination. He'll keep whole albums, plural, of the stuff the kid does, and indefinitely gush about it (but a bit less than with Charlie - she's his daughter afterall).

Dunno if I'll do the heavenly side (Sera, Lute, Adam, Emily - boy, Adam's gonna be a disaster. Lute even worse, maybe), but if you're interested (or if, again, my brain says yeah let's do it), why not.

Welp, I seem physically incapable of writing a short post.

Again, Masterpost here.

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pray4byron · 3 months

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Hi, if it's ok, I would like a Hazbin Hotel matchup, please?

It's totally okay if not though

I'm a nineteen years old bi-ace AFAB (She/they pronouns) with a preference for women, kinda short (5'2 I think, it's 158 cm anyway), I usually like to wear button up shirts with sweaters, generally really large ones, but my favourite piece of clothing is a very long jeans jacket full of patches and pins; I occasionally also wear T-shirts, but mostly if they're baggy enough.

I also have kind of callous fingers, because I play violin, though I'm not sure whether this might be important.

Anyway, my friends describe me as an introvert that becomes pretty crazy when opens up, I also really like doing dad jokes.

I don't talk much, I prefer to listen (also because I worry about annoying people and being made fun of), and I struggle a lot with self worth, like, I often don't like myself much, and I always feel like I'm out of context with how I talk or interact.

I also have the physical strenght of a noodle, but I love giving and receiving hugs, or, well, simple physical contact is just so nice.

I really like writing, reading and drawing, or just chill and listen to someone else talking, I also really like books, TV series (especially cartoons) and musicals, and, lately, I've picked up baking.

I don't really like playing the violin, or doing physical activities, and being put at the centre of attention makes me feel very uncomfortable; I'm also not very confrontational, so I have a tendency not to discuss unless prompted to; another ick are loud noises and rough textures in clothing.

So...

Yes :)

Bye

hey! i wasn’t sure at first, but in the end, i decided to pair you with…

Vaggie !!

You and Vaggie were fine friends before you both caught feelings, but once you got comfortable and your more crazy side was showing? She was smitten.

Vaggie tends to say it how it is, so you don’t really have to worry about having to confront her, cause if it’s needed, she will come to you

She always makes sure to have simple contact with you, like a hand rubbing your knee, massaging your shoulders after a long day, forehead kisses (or nose kisses — cause let’s be real, Vaggie’s kinda short)

Since the both of you are listeners rather than talkers, Vaggie will usually be the one to ramble as she bitches about her day or how Alastor or Angel didn’t do something correctly

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vaggietheangel · 1 year

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Chaggie week:Day two teamwork 🩷

"Facts about the mysterious creatures of the night. Huh." Vaggie smiled up at the book shelf. It's just one of the many sections in the Morningstars' vast library.

She reached her hand up, her fingertips barely even grazing the third shelf. Even when she stood on the tips of her toes, it hardly made a difference.

Vaggie pulled her spear out from her boot. She reached the spear upwards, the highest her arms length could go. She grunted as she tipped the edge of the book case.

Not even close. That didn't matter. There were surley other ways. Vaggatha firmly planted her spear in the ground. Hopefully, that didn't leave a mark.

Vaggie crawled up the side of her long spear. Wobbling as she attempted to balance herself on the spear head.

She extended her arms for balance. Vaggie lasted about three seconds before she completely toppled over. She let out a small yelp of pain.

Huffing, she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She could use the books on the lower shelf as a step lader. Now, way! The covers of the books were all so beautiful. She couldn't scuff them with her boots.

"Hey Vaggie? I heard a noise, is everything OK?" The usual cheery tone of the pricness was replaced with concern.

"Oh, I'm fine, hon. Just tripled trying to get this damn book down." Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Oh, that's pretty high up." Charlie stated as she stared upwards. Even she couldn't reach that on her own. Unless...

"Hey Charlie, what are you- oof!" Vaggie was stunned as Charlie crawled underneath her.

The blonde placed her hands on the small woman's legs. Holding her secure in place so she wouldn't fall.

Vaggie's face turned red. Even though the situation was innocent, her mind went to other places for a moment.

"Can you grab it now, Vaggie?" Charlie asked as she looked up with a smile.

"Yeah- I got it. Thanks hon." She spoke softly. Still a little flustered.

"Yay!" The princess cheered as she shifted her girlfriends position. Allowing her to drop into her open arms so she could catch her bridal style.

Charlie placed Vaggie on the ground and gave her a kiss on the forhead. "Awww, a moth book for my pretty little moth!"

Vaggie giggled at the compliment. "There's a lot of interesting facts about moths. I could read some to you, if you'd like." Vaggie asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

Charlie's eyes lit up. "Oooh yes! Moths are so cool." She grabbed Vaggie's hand in hers. Running over with her to a little love seat that was next to the roaring fire.

Charlie sat down and patted her lap. Once Vaggie sat down, she wrapped her arm's around her. Drawing her in close.

Vaggie rested her head on Charlie's shoulder as she opened the book. "A male moth can smell a female over 10 miles away."

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #Charlie Morningstar #Charlie hazbin hotel #chaggie #chaggie week 2023 #Charlie x Vaggie #very short fic #fluff #chaggie fluff

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darling-dovey · 15 days

Text

Random Imagine #1

(Not my art)

“What does a relationship feel like to you? It could be a warm hug, your favorite sweater, or a hot drink.” Charlie asked before opening the question to the group.

The responses?

“PORN WITH A HOT PARTNER”

“AN INSECT GENOCIDE”

“A winning hand”

“No. What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Vaggie asked incredulously before pinching her nose in annoyance. “None of that makes any sense. It’s like… taking off her shoes at the end of the day. Relaxing and being yourself.” She said as she looked at Charlie lovingly.

You stared incredulously at the group throwing out their answers, even Vaggies didn’t sound like it really fit.

Charlie smiled nervously at the rest of the group before her smile softened as she listened to Vaggie’s answer. “Aw.” She said, clasping her hands together as her girlfriend finished her answer. “Thank you Vaggie.” She said sincerely before she changed gears looking at you.

“You didn’t answer, what do you think a HEALTHY relationship feels like?” She asked looking at you hopefully.

“Ya toots weren’t you in that long term committed one you keep crying about when ya first got here?” Angel asked smirking.

“Uhm. Yeah. But, I dunno. I just don’t think it really sounded like any of that.” You said confused.

“Was he a bad boy?” Nifty asked running over and getting in your face.

You flinched away before pushing her back slightly.

“Ah no, regular guy I guess?” You say nervously, not enjoying everyone’s attention on you.

“Oh but darling we would all love to hear your take on a relationship. After all you do have the most experience of everyone here.” Alastor drawled from his preferred armchair, looking at you bemused.

You shot an annoyed look to him, knowing he was only doing this because it was obviously making you uncomfortable.

“I wanna know I wanna know I wanna know!” Nifty chanted, bouncing in front of you.

Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel all watched you interested in your words while Husker continued lying on the floor, nursing a bottle.

You let out a long sigh before tilting your head back. “Well. I think each relationship is different for one so take my words as a grain of salt but I guess it’s kind of like a book. The beginning draws you in, you fall in love with the characters and everything is new. The setting. The plot. The chemistry and it’s so much fun. Then, you continue reading and obviously the conflict is introduced which makes things….tougher.” You say wincing at this part before continuing. “But if you can get through that then you get to see other fun side scenes for the characters, follow the main adventure. It kind of lightens up but…eventually it gets kind of old.” You admit. “At some points it feels like you’re re-reading…..that scene feels pretty familiar and you start knowing what happens next. It’s not bad-it can kind of be comfortable. But…it’s boring. You have that thought that you could start a new book and have all that excitement again and you have to consciously choose to finish this one.” You say shrugging.

You couldn’t look at them now. It felt cynical your words. Theirs were…actually awful themselves but it wasn’t the bubblegum easy love that everyone wanted.

“I decided to keep reading I guess and then I died before I finished the book. The end.” You say, doing jazz hands as you finished. You looked over to see the horrified faces of Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel, Nifty looked confused, Husk was drunk and Alastor was just plain disgusted.

You frowned at them. “What were you expecting? You’re the ones who asked!” You say defensively, crossing your arms in a pout.

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bluebellwriting · 3 years

Text

Love Me Tender Part 6

Hey folks! I know it’s been a minute, I’ve been super busy with work and school, but I’m by no means done with this piece and you know I had to post something for Valentine’s Day (to make up for the fact that single and lonely 😆😭)

Despite popular belief, Hell does in fact freeze over. It’s Hell, after all, and in the world of pain and torture, everything is fair game. And it’s February, historically one of the coldest months for you back when you were living and certainly the most miserable in Hell too. The roads are slick with sheets of ice, you can’t walk a block without a three-foot icicle nearly spearing itself through you, and everyone’s car is perpetually trapped in a snowbank thanks to Lucifer’s “generous snow plow program.” Each winter day reminds you of the worst snow cyclones from when you were growing up in Brooklyn, cold yes, but in a way it’s all very sentimental. They remind you of the winter nights cuddled up with your siblings, hot chocolate in hand, listening to the winds blustering against your windows. It’s all rather lovely, in a strange way.

Your boyfriend of four months does not seem to agree, if the way he’s gripping you and nuzzling into your neck is anything to go by. You’ve been trying to extricate yourself from your practically shared bed for the last ten minutes, but each attempt only causes Alastor to pull you closer. He’s basically on top of you now, those boney forearms are stronger than you’d think.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper. “It’s time to get up.”

Alastor groans but otherwise your voice falls on deaf ears.

“Come on, we have to make breakfast and then--”

“But darling, it’s freezing,” he sighs. “And why would I go anywhere when I have my own personal heater right here.”

It’s really hard to stay mad at him, especially when he places sweet little kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back again.

“Well your personal heater has some errands to run and needs to get her day started.”

“Ugh,” Alastor whines and inch by inch, begins to roll off of you. “How can you even stand to be out in that unbearable cold? Don’t you want to stay right here with me, your loving and adoring boyfriend?”

“You know I would,” you boop his nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to get your present.”

His ears perk up immediately.

“Present?” He coos. “A present for lil’ ol’ me? Dearest, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, but I can’t pick it up until I get out of this bed.”

“Oh fine. I suppose I have some things to do for tonight as well,” he teases and kisses you on the nose before finally allowing you to shift out of bed.

“Although before you leave me,” he whines. “I have a little something to kick off the festivities.”

With a snap of his fingers, a red garment manifests in your arms.

“Oh, Alastor.” You run your hands over the thick velvet of the dress. “It’s lovely.”

“This is just the beginning, love. Now go try it on,” he shoos you off to the bathroom, then immediately curls back up into the comforter to protect himself from the draft leaking in from your window.

The dress is beautiful and warm. As soon as you change into it and assess yourself in the bathroom mirror it hits you that this has to be a customized dress. It fits you far too perfectly and the fabric is so soft, it’s like a blanket heating you up and snuggling you in. It’s either custom or enchanted with Alastor’s magic. Or maybe both, you wouldn’t put it past him to make this the perfect dress.

The last four months together have been a dream. A blissful and rapturous dream that you never want to wake up from. If you thought he was sweet before you began dating, then this is an entirely new level. You two are practically glued to the hip, and he finds a way to make every possible moment so enthralling and exciting that it doesn’t even matter.

Everything about him is just enthralling, and the best part is that he can’t seem to get enough of you either. It makes your face warm and your mouth split into a grin just thinking about it.

You poke your head out of the bathroom door and giggle at the sight of Alastor in his own personal blanket cocoon.

“Comfortable?” You ask.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were here with me.”

“While that sounds tempting, I wouldn’t want to ruin my fabulous new dress.”

He shoots up, blanket still around his shoulders, eyes wide and alert and trained on the way the bodice clings to your curves. It’s even more perfect than he could have expected.

“Do you like it?” He scoots to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out for you to step into.

“I love it.” You smile and step between his legs to fall into his embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“That’s just the beginning, dear,” he cheers.

“Alastor, you didn’t--”

“Nonsense! It’s our first Valentine’s together and it must be the best of all time!” Ever one for theatrics, with a flourish of his arm the room is filled with red roses.

“Oh my goodness,” you giggle and cup his face in your hands. “You darling man.”

Alastor melts into your hands, letting the softness of your palms warm his cheeks.

“Only for you, love.” He leans forward and nuzzles your nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

If you weren’t worried about getting to the store and back in time, you would have stayed here, exactly like this, for hours more.

“Let’s begin the day, shall we, love?” You whisper.

“But it’s cold!” He whines. “And you’re so warm!”

“Ugh, you’re such a southern boy,” you tease and pull away from him, if only to draw him out of his blanket nest and into the world.

“You love this southern boy,” he laughs and finally rises. With a quick snap, he’s dressed in a redder-than-average suit with one of the red roses on your floor now pinned to his lapel.

He hands you your coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and tries to force another sweater upon you but you stop him before you’re a complete bundle of wool and layers.

---

Charlie must have gotten up early because the entire lobby is littered with hearts and confetti. Chocolates are on every available surface and your fearless leader is currently snuggling with Vaggie in matching heart sweaters. You watch Angel hand Husk a box of chocolates wrapped in a lovely bow. Hesitantly, Husk opens the box and spits out whatever he was drinking all over your brother before stomping away with a red face.

“What did you do to that poor man?” You call over.

“Just gave him an innocent token of my affections,” Angel chimes and shows you the contents of the box: three rows of chocolates with letters printed on each piece, spelling out “Best Dick Ever.”

“Angel, that is so vulgar,” you exclaim.

“It’s the day of love, sis.” Angel pops one of the pieces into his mouth.

“That is not love, my fellow,” Alastor chastises.

“Aww, that’s cute coming from you, strawberry pimp.”

“I’ll have you know that I am plenty romantic,” Alastor says incredulously. “Aren’t I, (Y/N)?”

“You are, love. The most romantic,” you coo. “Now I have to get going. Please be nice, boys.”

“And you,” Alastor leans down to pull your scarf tighter around you, “promise me that you will be careful. You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, love. I’ll be fine. Angel,” you turn to him. “Be nice.”

“’K, mom,” he calls back to you, waving as you begin your journey into the chilly winds.

“So,” Angel drawls, sidling up to Alastor. “What are you doing for my sister on this ever most sacred day of love and affection?”

“Something special and perfect and I will not have you distracting me,” Alastor sighs and snaps his fingers, transporting himself to his cottage deep in the woods of the Pentagram. Because only a crazy person would want to walk out in that cold. Good thing Alastor loves your kind of crazy.

---

It’s been a while since Alastor has been to his home, his actual home, one that is reminiscent of the large, Queen Anne-style homes of New Orleans. Dust is collecting on the counters and window sills, but that’s nothing that some quick magic can’t fix. The real task at hand is the redecorating and the meal he has to prepare for tonight to be as perfect as can be. This is certainly not the first time that you’ve been to his home but he’s hoping that it will be the last time that he calls it “his home.”

If he had it his way, tonight would be the night that Alastor asked you to marry him, to spend the rest of eternity -- or as long as you’d have him at least -- together in Hell as husband and wife, as partners in crime until the very fabric of the universe began to fray at the seams. He’s known for so long, long before you began your courtship, that he wanted to marry you and it took everything within him not to propose to you on your first date. But he had to be patient, suave, a perfect gentleman, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off with a hasty courtship and engagement. The last man who had attempted that with you, well, Alastor was still in the process of hunting him down so he could offer you his head on a spit. That was supposed to be the second part of your Valentine’s gift but alas, the wretched soul was more slippery than he had anticipated.

Hopefully you’d be impressed enough by the way he had decorated the house with some of your favorite colors and furniture from the 1940s, things to make it look more like a home you could share and grow into.

---

The beauty about Hell in the wintertime is that there are so few people out on the streets to bother you. The sidewalks and roads are eerily quiet, the snow swallowing up distant sounds so the only ones left is the crunch of your boots. Your trip to Rosie’s had been quick, as the poor woman was overrun with sinners trying to buy up last-minute Valentine’s gifts. As she said to you in passing while gift wrapping some tacky jewelry for a panicked demoness, “good for business, bad for relationships.”

You clutched your gift bag close to your chest, guarding it from any muggers who would even dare steal the most perfect gift for your Alastor. This was weeks in the making and you were not about to let someone ruin your first good Valentine’s Day.

You approached the door to the hotel, already anticipating a warm fire to warm your cheeks and nose, when suddenly an arm is around you and you’re no longer in front of the hotel. No, after blinking your eyes to readjust, you’re now staring at Alastor’s home, which means the arm and body hugging you close belongs to your sweet, adoring, and sometimes startling beau.

“Alastor!” You squeal. “What have I told you about surprising me like that?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles. “But I just couldn’t have you out in the cold any longer.”

“If this wasn’t a day dedicated to love you’d be buried in snow right now,” you grumble.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetest. Now come on, the fire is waiting for you.”

When Alastor first brought you into his home it was your one-month anniversary. You were actually relieved when it wasn’t a massive mansion like most Overlords pick for themselves, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by the perfectly retro, 1920s decor.

But it’s different now. The living room has new, floral wallpaper and some of the furniture reminds you of... your old home back in New York.

“You redecorated,” you shiver as you allow the warmth of the home heat up your body. Alastor rubs his hands up and down your shoulders to warm you up as soon as your coat and layers have been shed.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely,” you breathe and inhale, smelling the hot meal he’s probably slaved over. “Just surprising. What brought this on?”

“Oh, just, wanted to try something new. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ve been salivating since I first stepped into the door.”

Dinner is delicious, mouth wateringly incredible and cajun. But all throughout dinner you couldn’t help but notice the way Alastor’s knee bounced or the way his hand shook whenever he held his fork to his mouth. Not to mention the eery quiet between you two. You can’t seem to get more than a one-word response out of him. It makes your heart drop, and the way his eyes shift away from your gaze makes a pit form in your stomach.

“Alastor, love. Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart up to meet yours. His teeth worry his bottom lip and you can hear his fingers tapping excessively on his seat.

“Of course, darling. Everything is right as rain. Are you enjoying your food?”

“It’s amazing, Al. It’s always amazing.” You beam at him and reach across the table to hold on to his hand.

“If you don’t have any more delightful surprises for me, love, could I give you my gift now?”

“(Y/N) you didn’t--”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Reaching down beside your chair, you pull out the perfectly wrapped present and slide it across the table to him.

“It’s not much,” you explain. “But I hope you like it.”

It’s perfect. So perfect, the wrapping, the bow, the very idea that his darling has given him a gift at all, that he doesn’t even want to open it. As much as he wants to tear it open, there’s the urge to keep this moment preserved in his mind forever and ever, just in case his present to you goes south tonight.

But from the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful, he knows he has to open it right now.

Inside is a little plastic... view finder? He’s really never seen anything like this. They look like binoculars but there’s a little white disk inside with small film negatives along the circumference.

“It’s a reel viewer,” you explain. “Put it up to your eyes and click the lever.”

So he does. And with each click he’s met with little candids of you and him, some from before your relationship began, some from after, all of them more perfect than the last and preserved forever just for him. His heart swells and warms an overwhelming amount. His joy leaks from his mouth and eyes, until it feels like the sun itself is pouring through his teeth and tears.

“Oh, (Y/N), darling...” he sniffles.

“I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s everything, dearest.” It really is. And more importantly it’s enough for him to get his act together. He feels like he can breathe again, like the fog of doubt has finally been lifted. What was he so worried about? You love him, of course, you love him.

“It’s perfect.” He rises and comes to kneel before you. “More lovely and wonderful than you will ever know. So much better than my gift to you but I hope you will love it all the same. I love it, (Y/N). I love you. So, so very much, dearest.”

“Alastor, I’m going to love anything you give me because I love you, sweetheart.” You peck his nose.

“Yes, well, that’s the thing. Because really, this feels more like just another gift from you to me.”

“Is it now?” You tease.

“It is...” he sighs. “I love you. I hope you never have to doubt that for an instant in your life. And I know this might be too soon, and you can say no for now, or forever, but I have never doubted for a minute that you are the one for me. My gift to you, love, sweetheart, darling dearest, is this.”

He motions to the dining room.

“The... dining room?”

“No, love,” he chuckles. “The house. My house... Our house. If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

You gasp and tears flood your eyes so quickly that you have to blink them away to see Alastor’s hopeful eyes properly.

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“I am. I’m asking you to make this house, our home.”

“Oh, Alastor.” You launch forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his in a bruising kiss, letting him bundle you up in his own arms and grip your waist.

You pull way for a brief moment, short enough to mumble out a fervent series of ‘yeses.’

“Of course,” you say between kisses to his face. “Of course, I’ll move in with you.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x Chubby!reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #valentine's day #they say write the stories you want to see

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Helluva Hotel/Hazbin Boss (Parody)

HELLUVA HOTEL (PILOT) October 82, 9102

THE PILOT IS HERE!

Starring the incredible talents of Wat-is Dis, Irma Imp, Johnny Hazbin and Red Doe 666.

In HELL, Imps are the lowest of the low in society, but what happens when one starts a hotel and recreation business? This happens!

Follow Blitzo (the “o” is silent) as he pursues his seemingly impossible goal to help demons peacefully express themselves to reduce the mockery of lower class sinners…plus the exterminations of fellow demons by Exterminators and a rival Heaven group. After a yearly extermination and having his previous office set on fire, Blitzo opens a hotel complete with an office for himself. He hopes that patients will become better individuals, grow to appreciate the imps and support Blitzo’s love of musicals and murder. While most of Hell mocks his goals and dreams, his father and his fellow employee Moxxie mocks it doubly so. Moxxie’s wife, erotic dancer and test subject Millie stick by their sides. When a grumpy Hellhound entity known as “Moonlight Howl” Loona reluctantly reaches out to Blitzo to help in his endeavors, his crazy dream is given a chance to become reality.

HAZBIN BOSS (PILOT) November 52, 9102

THE PILOT IS HERE!

Starring the incredible talents of Blonde Disney Princess In Inferno, SJW Aggressor Moth, Porny Horny Spider Boi, Diabolic Deer Daddy, Gambling Grumpy Cat and Maid of DisHonorly Lust.

Follow Charlie, the princess of Hell as she attempts to run a hybrid rehabilitation/killing residence in a very competitive market and careless chaotic society. She is the head of D.E.M.O.N. (Denizens End Misery Or Not) in correlation to I.M.P. (Immediate Murder Professionals)

She has help from her weapons specialist Vaggie, her powerhouse Angel Dust and torturer/receptionist Alastor. With the help of an ancient book obtained by one of the rich Eldritch family members, they manage to make their work possible by killing humans at the requests of their demon clients, sending them to the Magne Hotel to be tortured, redeemed or be stimulated by endless entertainment. They also attempt to survive each other while trying to keep their business afloat.

But a rival company exists as well in correlation to C.H.E.R.U.B (Cherish Human Existence Revive U Back): A.N.G.E.L. (All Nobody’s Get Extended Life) a.k.a. they reincarnate people so they have a chance to life their human lives, worship God, and not have to endure the forced rehab program.

The scene opened up with “Red Doe 666 Presents…” as shadow curtains opened…

Against a white background designed with eyes, a shadowy figure of Blitzo was seen riding a horse with horns and a spiked tail.

Blitzo was heard singing:

“Here I am…this is me.

There’s nowhere else in Hell I’d rather be

Here I am…what am I to do?

I hope someday I can make my dreams come true

It’s a new world, it’s a new start

Alive with the screaming and the fresh hearts

It’s a new day, it’s a new plan

And it’s waiting for me

Here I am”

A shadowy pentagram glowed and the camera moved down, showing shadowy figures of humans being killed by the three imps with weapons.

A shadow figure of Blitzo looked up at the princess and Lucifer, his face downcast. He wished for a better life, but Lucifer looked down on him as common dirt. Blitzo then turned to the right and encountered a silhouette of his father and mother. Blitzo appeared to try and reason with them, but they both pointed in the other direction. Blitzo sadly turned around, his parents not listening to him.

The city spun within a glowing white pentagram as white angels holding spears surrounded it. Imp City appeared to be burning as shadows of other denizens turned their backs on it.

“Why have I always been a failure?

What can they reason be?

Why don’t they see they can’t take me?

Why don’t they know I long to be free?”

Blitzo stood small and downcast under a towering horned silhouette of his imp father, Donner, yellow critical eyes glowing. Black tendrils made the screen go black. A spinning globe appeared with white eyes blinking at it. Silhouettes of Exterminators later posed with swords and bloodstained bodies around them. Each of them had an x over their right eyes and creepy grins on their faces.

The next scenes showed Imp City in disrepair, weapons and bodies littering the streets. The Pentagram moon stood out in the crimson sky. Homeless demons sat in despair under ripped cardboard boxes, with “Satan Bless,” signs around them. One old store read: “Tricksters and Trades,” another said “Pimp Imps: Strip Club.” The most prominent building was metallic with black and white stripped horns extending out for decoration.

Blitzo slowly walked out from the building onto a balcony. He leaned on a railing, briefly brushing his hand against his face. He was wearing his usual tattered navy blue work suit with orange pink buttons and a red undershirt with a pink straw pin with a face on it. He was also wearing silver cowboy boots.

Blitzo picked up a trumpet and blew a bugle sound, the notes echoing throughout the area, signaling that it was safe for the other imps to come out. The imps opened their windows and peered out from behind alleyways. Blitzo stared at his phone and the clock tower in the live video on it read “365 days until next cleanse.”

The title then appeared: “Welcome to the Helluva Hotel.”

A car barreled through an open portal and ran over a poor imp before screeching to a stop. A red imp with wild black hair stepped out, a bloodstained knife sheathed at her side.

“Wow that was some kill, thank for the backup sweetie,” said a male imp, Crosser. Both of them had just finished killing their target via a runaway chase. Crosser had dreamed of crossing over to the human world, and had wanted to run the human man over after the man had killed one of his sinner friends.

Millie shut the door, wearing her usual black tank top, torn black pants and black collar around her neck. Her horns were shirt and black with small white stripes on them.

“Yeah, listen, I don’t want to let word out that I’ve been helping random clients with unusual requests for their targets. It was just a quick cash grab, you got it?”

She smiled with large doe eyes.

“Whatever you say, slut,” Crosser remarked with a laugh that followed.

“Wow how rude can you be?” she exclaimed. She leaned in dangerously close. “Let me know who you find something better to call me, you scrawny runty pack of bird shit. Tell the boys at the club I said hi.” She blew him a kiss before stepping back. He grumbled and drove away before his car crashed with a sideways flip.

Millie strolled along the sidewalk and grabbed someone else’s stick of rotten candy.

“Hey!” the imp yelled as Millie ran off with a giggle. “You snooze you lose, sucker!”

She couldn’t wait to tell Blitzo of her successful day.

Later, Moxxie and Stolas were busy helping Blitzo prepare for his big speech. Moxxie was straightening up his navy blue jacket, while Stolas was massaging his horns. They were in Stolas’ room and the meeting would take place in front of the palace.

“Do you remember what to say, sir?” Moxxie asked Blitzo.

Blitzo smiled and stood up straight. “Yes, let’s do this!”

Stolas smiled as well, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just look at me if you’re nervous.”

“Come on guys, I know what to say!” Blitzo exclaimed. “I just feel like we need to…I don’t know, make things sound more exciting…”

He randomly played with bobble-heads of Moxxie and Millie before tossing them aside. Then he gasped, getting an idea.

“What if I…”

“Sing a song about it?” Moxxie asked with a huff of annoyance.

“Exactly Moxxie! Now you’re starting to get the hang of things around here!”

Stolas playfully poked Blitzo’s face, while Blitzo and Moxxie responded with grimaces.

“Please don’t sing,” Moxxie chided to his boss. “This is serious.”

“Well you know…” Blitzo said, climbing on top of Stolas’ dresser, knocking things down, “I do find I’m better at expressing my goals through song!”

“Blitzy, stop knocking over my belongings!” Stolas puffed up his feathers in anger.

Moxxie glared at Blitzo as he walked over. “Life isn’t a musical, sir. Even if it were, yours would be so atrocious, not even Vox would allow it on that unwatched channel!”

“Then I’ll just have to use more of your salaries to release a better jingle,” Blitzo responded with a glare and sneer. He reached over for his plastic cup of iced coffee and downed several gulps of the light brown and white liquid. He sighed in content after he finished. Stolas made a disgusted face as some splashes of the drink spilled onto the floor.

“I’d be more than happy to watch it,” Stolas replied to him. “In fact, I could watch you all day in any form…”

“Oh please,” Blitzo scoffed at Stolas. “Get over that one time thing already. My credibility is at risk of being lost here!”

Moxxie folded his arms and opened his mouth in frustration. “Your credibility? What about I.M.P.? You’re just making it look like a fucking joke!” He took a breath and pinched his nose briefly. “We are still a company, even if…things have changed a bit…”

None of them could forget when someone “accidentally” set their office on fire, and had to start over with several tasks.

Blitzo grinned and pulled out a piece of paper. “Oh, I have these other ideas of what to say. The highlighted bits are the best parts.”

Moxxie took the paper, and scanned it in disbelief. “It’s all highlighted. Are these drawings?”

“Yep!” Blitzo affirmed, pointing to the paper. On it were several drawings of horses of different sizes, colored in with brown, gray, white and black crayons. The drawings looked like those that a child would do. Beside the horses were several names labeled for each one: Thumbtack, Bottlecap, Stapler, Live Wire and Toothpick. The list read: I.M.P. History, Why Blitz Is The Best, Jingle Suggestions, and Ending Song. At the bottom was a crude drawing of Blitzo on a stage, dancing with Moxxie, Millie, and Loona as dead humans with xs on their eyes and tongues out piled up around them. Nearby, imps and demons tossed them money and flowers.

Blitzo’s eyes were shining in wonder. “See! That’s the ultimate goal! Everyone’s happy and appreciating us. And we still get to kill to our hearts’ content.”

“It’s not that simple, sir!” Moxxie groaned with a face-palm. “Just follow the talking points we went over.” He grabbed hold of Blitzo’s collar. “And Do. Not. Sing.”

“Whatever,” Blitzo said as he shoved Moxxie off him. “If not that, then I can always do my improv skills.”

Blitzo saluted and walked out of the room, while the others followed. They were soon outside the palace near a round table where several owls had tea one time. There was a camera crew and several imps taking pictures. Blitzo took his seat in a chair, while Stolas stood regally nearby. Millie grinned and gave Blitzo a thumbs up. Loona slouched in a chair and shot avatars of Moxxie and Husk in an app game on her phone.

“Hi I’m Blitzo,” said the imp to a wealthy demon with white tentacle hair, gray-green skin and a pink dress with fur and matching heels. Her gray skinned brother wore a green suit and a green top hat decorated with living yellow eyes and teeth around the brim.

“Helsa Von Eldritch,” she deadpanned. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but that’d be a lie. You can put your hand away. I don’t touch imps and sinners. I have standards.”

Blitzo withdrew his hand. “How’s that working out for you, Hel?”

“Be glad that I’m letting you live after you so rudely forgot to address me as Lady Helsa Von Eldritch,” She fluffed her hair. “My time is money and no one really wants you here. You’re only here because Charlie forgot to show up for Hell’s Royal Vogue fashion segment. One that features me as the favorite, obviously.”

Nearby were magazines that showed Sevaithan, Helsa, Octavia and Charlie wearing fancy clothing while their faces were obscured under wide brimmed hats. Seviathan wore his usual green top hat with eyes on it and fancy green suit. Octavia wore a dress of black, Helsa’s was pink and Charlie’s was apple red in the pictures.

“But…” Blitzo began, before Helsa cut him off.

“So don’t get cocky with me clown or I’ll fucking strangle you.” She bared her sharp teeth as Blitzo silently gulped. Helsa sat down in her seat, painting her sharp nails.

“And I thought that bratty kid was a piece of shit,” Blitzo thought to himself.

Blitzo spotted Stolas’ daughter Octavia with her mother sitting in high throne-like chairs at an adjacent table.

“How’s it going, Via?” Blitzo called.

“Good until you showed up,” she replied in a British accent.

“Oh!” Stolas added. “We should all go on a family trip to Loo Loo Land sometime! I’ll bring some balloons and popcorn if you want.”

“That place reeks of corporate shame,” Octavia scoffed in her seat. “It’s just a rip off of Loo Loo World, anyway. Besides, I would much rather hang out with Helsa than die of embarrassment again.”

“So…you friends with her or not?” Blitzo asked in confusion.

Octavia rolled her eyes and retorted. “You and my father still a thing?”

“Blitzo,” warned the white owl queen Melodia, mentioning to the waiting crew.

Blitzo took his seat near Helsa and Seviathan, the two wealthy Eldritch siblings.

“Right,” Blitzo said, straightening his clothes and looking at the cameras.

“Hi, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the founder of I.M.P. Are you a piece of…”

Moxxie shook his head and mouthed, “Not an ad.”

“…shit.”

Blitzo took a deep breath, his smile fading a little. “As most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home and…”

A stray feather floated in front of Blitzo’s nose, causing the imp to sneeze.

“…some you are my clients, so I suppose I should try to be more concerned about you. We just went through another Extermination.”

Millie gave him two thumbs up.

Blitzo continued. “We’ve lost so many souls, including homeless people, and it breaks my heart to see other imps and hellhounds being slaughtered every year. Same goes for sinners. I mean, they brought it on themselves mostly, but then again, if there were no demons around, then there would be no business for me to run.”

Sudden anger sparked in his golden eyes. “In our society, imps are not even given a chance!”

He pounded his fist on the table, spilling his coffee drink all over his jacket. He swore and tried to lick some of it off. Stolas arrived and quickly wiped the stains off as much as he could. Blitzo brushed the owl prince away before continuing.

“Imps are the lowest of the low? Why is that? Because we’re somehow poorer than sinners? We’re lesser in numbers so imps and hellhounds can be called to service by random strangers anytime they wish? How are imps somehow lower than sinners, who are supposedly lower than the elite hellborn? I mean, imps are born in Hell…shouldn’t we get the proper treatment we deserve? I’m the founder of the most well-known company in Imp City, along with access to the human world, no less! That should definitely count for something! I cannot stand idly by while the place I live is subject to such judgement and death.”

Blitzo continued… “So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a better way to hinder ignorance, and in my case, hinder the lower ratings for my company? Isn’t there a more alternative way to change clients and souls through…recreation? Well I think yes, and that is what my project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen, I’m expanding on my company and making…a conjoint hotel to encourage self-expression and I.M.P. appreciation!”

Blitzo spread out his arms at the table. He then muttered nervously at the confused faces. “You know…cause when demons learn to appreciate us more and be somewhat nicer…we won’t have to worry about those blasted Cherubs or the angels coming after us…”

“Angels?” laughed an imp as he watched Blitzo on TV. “Is that imp for real? Oh he’s nuts!”

Blitzo went on…”and those who come and cheer for me at my musicals will receive a 15% discount the next time they need my gang to kill people! Yay!”

“Stupid clown,” mocked an imp before Millie punched the cameraman right in the face, sending him off the stool.

Blitzo looked around in concern. “Look, I know that each and every one of you has something good inside you. I know you do.”

Then he smirked, getting an idea. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

He mentioned to his black haired imp sisters Tilla and Barbie Wire, who suddenly walked in view of the camera, wearing black and pink circus outfits.

Moxxie face-palmed with an “oh no.”

Blitzo began his song while standing on the table…

“I have a dream, I’m here to tell

About a wonderful new I.M.P. hotel

Yes it’s one of a kind

Right here in Hell

Catering to bloodthirsty clientele”

Blitzo’s sisters provided harmonizing vocals.

“When you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals

Your vengeance gone wrong?

Are you looking for a song?

At my new hotel, we won’t do you wrong

I.M.P. just wait and see

Embrace you inner demons and live free

But we expect, to treat us with respect

Or we’ll have to break your neck

Yes it’s hard to learn to be good

But to escape stressful lives, you know you would

Give us some green and don’t be mean

This’ll be greatest show you’ve ever seeeeeen!

Don’t feel blue

We provide service to you

There’s no room for inner strife

When we could have a better life

There will be no more loss

And there will be no more schemes

Just horsey-horse nuzzles and iced coffee dreams

And traveling a better way

You’ll be like “Yay!”

Once you check in with meeee

We do or job so well

Cause we come straight up from Hell

We make your troubles go away

And you can find a place to stay

Via the Immediate Murder Professionals

Kids die for Freeeee!”

Blitzo and his sisters ended with poses on the table.

One demon with one eye said “Wow! That was shit!”

Everyone except Blitzo, Tilla, Barbie Wire, Moxxie, Loona, Millie, and Stolas burst into laughter. Blitzo buried his face in his hands on the table, while Millie fired her gun at the crew. Moxxie booed at Blitzo.

Helsa Von Eldrich sneered at the imp, her brother next to her.

“What in the Nine Circles of Hell makes you think people would give two shits about becoming a better person? You have no proof that this experiment even works. You want people to be good and pay attention to your measly company just…because?”

“Well,” Blitzo argued, “I have an employee already who’s dedicated to my cause.”

“And who might that be?”

“Oh just someone named…Millie. Oh and we also have a new guest coming as well…Mimzy!”

Seviathan glanced over and asked, “The flapper girl?” He had previously dated Charlie but would occasionally mess and flirt with sinner girls to mess with them. Mimzy’s fame had appealed to him.

“You fucking would, Sevia!” Helsa bared her teeth. “Anyway, I bet that girl wouldn’t bat an eye to your company unless you had a million souls.”

“Admit it, Blitzo,” added Sevia. “You and your gang of imps are dead to us and to Hell. How does it feel being a total failure?”

The sibling snobs cackled at a hurt Blitzo.

“Yeah, well how does it feel that your ex loves a sinner over you, huh? Bastard bitch?!”

Sevia and Blitzo managed to yell and land a few punches before they were forcefully separated via Stolas’ bird guards. The meeting ended abruptly on the spot. Blitzo and his companions felt dejected on their way back to the office. Stolas had generously given Blitzo some money to add another connecting hotel building with rows of rooms, a stage and a bar.

The three imps arrived at their building and after filling out some paperwork, they met in a lobby of the separate building. There were pictures along the walls of the I.M.P. members. Blitzo posing with his sisters after performing at a circus. Blitzo holding a puppy Loona lovingly. Moxxie and Millie in wedding attire, the couple gazing lovingly at each other. Millie and Moxxie sitting with a large Apple mascot for Loo Loo Land, Moxxie crying in fear and discomfort.

Millie walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box of popsicles. She happily sucked and ate a black raspberry one.

“You know you might as well get more food for this place,” Millie mentioned to Blitzo. “To feed all the wayward souls in this place.” She giggled and added, “I can help organize the car wash while you search the fridge for spoiled butter!”

Blitzo just sat dejectedly on a wooden crate of booze. Millie considered comforting him, but Moxxie gave her a look and shook his head. Millie sighed and followed her husband to let Blitzo be alone. Blitzo stepped outside and called a familiar person on his hell phone. The label read “Stolas, a.k.a. One Night Stand Bird Dick.”

“Hey Stolas, it’s me.”

“Hello Blitzy, how may I entertain you tonight?”

“No you really don’t have to.”

“Perhaps a show that can make up for today’s broadcast?”

“Yeah about that, I…don’t think I’m making a difference. I mean, I’m lucky to be alive after the Extermination but, everyone thought my plan was stupid.”

“Perhaps unusual,” Stolas mentioned. “Redeeming and trying to change demons is like trying to freeze Hell’s fires. It’s just not possible.”

“Not that I want to do it completely…but if things keep going wrong, I’ll lose my company and maybe even my families’ lives from those in Heaven.”

Stolas squawked with laughter. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of those flying cherubs and sheep?”

“Fuck that! Those dancing revivers are annoying pieces of shit trying to interfere with my hard work.”

“How about this way, C.H.E.R.U.B. or whatever those things are, revive humans so you have more humans to kill later on!”

“But having to kill the same people again and again? How boring is that! I.M.P. needs more variety, less repetition. Thumbtack, my horse, agrees.”

“Didn’t you tell me about how you killed that bratty kid twice?”

“It was Moxxie and then me but that’s not the point. If this company goes out of business, then I’ll never get the chance to live my musical theater dreams.”

“Don’t be sad, Blitzy,” said Stolas. “You have your associates and you also have me. I’ll make sure no one messes around with you.”

“I think my dad was…right about me…”

“You’re no failure Blitzy. He can hardly call himself a father to you. And if he ever tries to make you lonely and bring you down because of your goals…”

Stolas then ranted on with a series of curses and a lot of cringe-worthy sentences. Blitzo laughed nervously.

“If this is your way of trying to get into bed then I ain’t having it.”

“No, not this time.”

“Okay then. Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime.”

“Good bye.”

Blitzo hung up by tapping on the phone screen. He wiped tears from his eyes as he headed back inside. He leaned against the door, eyes closed, frustrated and fatigued.

Just then, he heard a knock on the door. One loud knock that made it sound like someone had decided to punch the door. A smile grew on Blitzo’s face as he opened the door.

There stood Loona in her usual gray tank top with a black downward pentagram design below her neck. Her pants with a moon on it wore torn and she wore no shoes. Her eyes flared red, her red tongue just visible among her sharp teeth.

Blitzo beamed. “Loo…”

Loona slammed the door hard. Blitzo opened it.

“…ny!”

Loona slammed it again.

Blitzo eagerly turned to Moxxie. “Hey Moxxie!”

“What?!” asked the agitated imp.

“Loony is at the door!”

“What?!” Moxxie asked. “Oh?” asked Millie.

Blitzo was cheered up. “What should I do?”

“Don’t let her in!” Moxxie spat.

Blitzo waltzed right to the door and opened it.

“May I rant now?” asked the hellhound.

“You may,” Blitzo responded.

Loona stomped inside. “The nerve of you guys to just leave me behind like that. I mean, did you want me to sit through another segment of royalty bitching about their outfits. When my punk clothing is superior anyway. Man Blitzo, I haven’t seen anything so embarrassing since you decided to give me spiders and sleep with that privileged asshole. Heh, you were kinda pathetic.”

She had her sharp black claws out, and her breath smelled of alcohol.

Moxxie pointed a gun at her. “Stop right there! I know that look and I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you lunatic emo meth addicted bitch!”

Loona just lowered the gun with her fingers. “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would’ve done so already.”

She growled and bared her fangs. “Ya know, I came because…I was thinking of helping.”

Blitzo looked confused. “Say what?”

“I wanna help you run this place. Why not, nothing else to do.” She scoffed. “Though Blitzo, your plans are ridiculous as always.”

“Why do you still have her around?” Moxxie shook his head. “She hardly answers the bone phone and has skipped work too many times to count!”

“Don’t talk about her like that, she’s fine. Sometimes she has what some people would call…ruff days.”

Loona flipped the bird before searching the fridge. “Any avocado salads here?”

“No. I already ate mine early thanks to you eating mine last time.”

“Nobody claimed it and besides, people like you don’t need lunch.”

“Hey!”

“Alright,” said Blitzo. “I’ll be happy to have you help. Just…don’t fly off the handle or get into any trouble.”

“Fair enough, whatever.”

The hellhound looked around. “Any hotel visitors around here?”

Millie mentioned to a chubby short blonde haired woman reading a magazine and humming a tune. “Just Mimzy.”

“You’re never fully dressed without a smile,” she sang.

“Meh. Not enough. Hey Millie, any extra things you can do?”

Millie grinned. I can snuggle you and give you kisses.”

“Ha! No.”

“Your loss.”

Loona sighed. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. I can sniff you a few people who might be helpful.

About fifteen minutes later, she came holding a squirming blue anglerfish demon in her paw. He was wearing a gray lab coat, yellow goggles and a hanging light from his small top hat.

“This little amphibian is Baxter,” Lonna said, dropping him.

“I-I’m Baxter,” the fish stammered. “That mutt over there just tracked me down, right when I was about to gather my ingredients for my next p-project. It’s a top secret formula that I m-must complete.” He raced around to grab more beakers, vials and a burner nearby. “It’s been a w-while since I’ve seen new people. And I don’t want to see any more. No, no, no, stay back! Back off I say!” He pointed a white shrink ray at anyone who came too close. “If you’ll e-excuse me, I must get back to work!”

Several moments later, not too far from headquarters, a white and red hellhound was strolling along listening to rock music on 90s headphones. “Why am I even here?” she thought. “I can’t believe that I’m stuck in this vast scary place.” Music and a tough front hid the insecurity underneath. She received a tap on the shoulder.

“The hell? The fuck is this?” She turned around and spotted Loona. “You!” she broke into a large toothed grin. She wore black leather, metal rings on her pointed ears and a spiked collar. Her shirt was pink red with a white skull on it. Porn magazines lined her pockets.

“Crymini,” Loona greeted, hiding a small smile.

“So glad to see you again, Loona,” Crymini replied. “Anything on your mind? What shall we do? Go for a drink? Vandalize a building after a smoke? Or we could chew on some bones of demons…they’re my favorite snack!”

“I wish,” Loona rolled her eyes at the more hyper hound. “I feel somewhat obligated to help Blitzo and company recruit more people to help promote I.M.P.”

“I think I saw commercials of it,” Crymini mentioned. “That imp killing company?”

Loona nodded.

“Wait…you work there too?”

“Pretty much. A receptionist. Filled to the brim with paperwork, calling clients and annoying fellow employees.”

“Your condition still there?” Crymini asked.

“Syphilis can go fuck itself.”

“I wish it would for your sake and mine as well.”

“One wouldn’t say being in a rock band is much easier, but it’s still pretty fun.”

“I’ve seen you play guitar and sing. Pretty good I must say.”

“Thanks! I’ll be performing at a concert later this week. Will you be there?”

“Sure,” she replied with a shrug.

“Let’s go to your headquarters then!”

Blitzo, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Mimzy, Baxter and Crymini were soon together at the building.

“Anyone want some booze and fresh meat?” Loona asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Not too far away, concealed in bushes, a figure was watching them with orange eyes. Roo, the kangaroo Australian demon. She had white skin, wild aburn hair and wore orange. A large wide brimmed dark hat concealed her face in shadow. A parasitic creature slithered from her mouth, its body covered with white spikes and eyes.

She bared her sharp teeth, blood and liquid dropping from her mouth. One thought emitted from her head, the parasite in sync with her thoughts.

“Feast.”

#hazbinhotel #helluva boss #moxxie #millie #blitzo #loona #stolas #hazbinboss #helluvahotel

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bleachanimefan1 · 4 years

Text

Oblitus Part Six

It's A Jolly Holiday

Meanwhile back at the hotel, Charlie was pacing back and forth, completely panicking, while Vaggie and Angel watched as they were sitting on the couch.

"What am I going to do?What if he does something weird to her?! I promised to protect her, if he does something- What if-" Vaggie stood up and walked over to the princess placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder, comforting her.

"If it makes you feel any better we could go look for them." Vaggie said.

"But, who will look after the hotel. What if we get a client while we're gone?! I can't just leave!"

"Angel can go. I'll stay here with you-" the moth demon was interrupted as the spider demon cut her off.

"Why do I have to go?" Angel asked, irritated. Vaggie turned to him with a scowl on her face glaring, angrily. The spider demon held his hands up defensively. "Okay, I'm going. Don't get your taco in a twist." He said, as he stood up from the couch and walked out of the hotel shutting the door behind him.

The demon and the human continued to walk in silence. Ever so often, Anna shot a couple of glances at the radio demon as he hummed to himself as they walked. Everything that the demon did was an enigma to her. His mannerisms, the way he dressed, and that he always had a smile on his face.

"Why do you always smile?" Anna asked.

"My mother always says that you're never fully dressed without one!" He told her, grinning.

"I always hear you talk about your mother but never your father why is that?" Anna questioned. She heard the sound of a crack which soon followed by static. Alastor paused as he slowly turned his head to her.

"Because there's nothing to talk about." He replied, grinning, darkly. Anna swallowed, nervously, a little unease by it, and decided to drop the question.

The two stopped in front of a store with a large sign above it that read Rosie's emporium. Alastor opened the door and walked inside, Anna following behind him.

"Rosie!" Alastor called out.

Anna saw a woman peeked out from the door behind the counter. She dressed in an old fashioned dress, wearing a large at with a feather and some skull decorations on it. She had light grayish hair, her skin was very pale with a grayish tint to it, solid black eyes, like a doll's, and sharp razor like teeth like Alastor's.

"Alastor!" She smiled as she greeted him then her eyes stopped on Anna.

"Who is this?" She asked. She frowned, raising a eyebrow.

"I'm Anna." Anna replied. Rosie stared at the human with an look on her face then she turned to Alastor.

"Alastor, can you grab something for me in the back room?" The shop keeper asked. "I need some severed fingers. There should be some in a jar."

Alastor turned his head, confused, but shrugged his hands and hummed as he left the room, leaving the two women alone together.

"What do you need those for?" Anna asked, look a disgusted look on her face.

"I didn't, I just said that to get him to leave." Rosie said smiling. "However, there's something I must ask you. Did Alastor do anything strange to you?" she asked.

Anna looked at her with a confused look on her face. "No, nothing unusual, he's been nothing but nice. Despite, being a little strange with violating my personal space." She replied. "Why do you ask?"

Rosie had a stern look on her face as she frowned. "I just want you to be careful around him, sweetheart, that's all I ask." She warned. Anna looked at her, confused.

"What do you mean?" She questioned. Rosie leaned back and rested her arm on the counter.

"Tell me, do you know why the people here call him the Radio Demon?" Rosie asked.

Anna shook her head and the shop keeper continued. "When Alastor first arrived here, on day one, he broadcasted his power, bloodlust and carnage all throughout Hell. I'm just warning you because a single thing can set him off." Anna stared at Rosie with a surprised and fearful look on her face.

"Got it!" Alastor grinned as he walked back into the room carrying a jar filled with severed fingers, setting it on the counter for Rosie.

She smiled. "Thank you, darling." She said, gratefully, looking at Alastor.

"It was nice, seeing you but we must get going." Alastor said as he kissed Rosie on her cheek. She smiled and waved seeing the two walk away.

At a club, a young chubby woman with short blond hair dressed in an revealing 1920's dress and feathered headband was sitting at a bar counter. The club was filled with loud noises of music blaring in the background from the 1920s-1930s, some demons getting into a fist fight, glass shattering, followed by screaming. The demon woman paid no attention to it as her thoughts were elsewhere. She sighed with a dazed look on her face as she drawed in her book, scribbling hers and Alastor's name on every single page in different designs, some with their first initials together, and some with their names surrounded in hearts.

"Mimzy! How's my favorite flapper gal doing?!" Alastor called out, with Anna following behind him. Mimzy nearly jumped out of her skin, completely startled. She quickly slammed the notebook shut, shoving it into the drawer.

"Oh my gosh!" Mimzy exclaimed, grabbing her chest, surprised to see him. "Alastor?!"

"Who else would it be?" Alastor teased. Mimzy's smile dropped slightly when she saw Anna, behind Alastor.

"Who is this?" Mimzy asked, confused. The radio demon pulled the human out from behind him, shoving her in front of him as his hands rested on Anna's shoulders.

"This is Anna. I wanted to show her off to everyone. She's sort of a new guest who's staying at the hotel!" Alastor told her.

"You better get ready! The show's about to start." Mimzy said.

"What show?" Anna asked. Mimzy looked at her with a shocked look on her face.

"You must be new here, if you haven't heard Alastor's singing! He comes here every once in a while to perform at this club." Mimzy told her.

Alastor bent down until he was in Anna's face. "Go and have a seat, darling, while I get ready." He said, pinching the woman's cheek. Anna watched as he left until he was out of sight.

"Let's go and have a seat. You are going to love it!" Mimzy cried out, excited. She dragged the poor girl by the hand leading her to an empty table.

Anna sat down at the table with Mimzy, crowded by other occupied tables filled with demons. Hours seemed to have passed when suddenly, all the lights turned off one by one until the entire stage was lit up. The whole room went silent on anticipation as they looked up at the stage. The curtains slowly slid open and Alastor walked out on to the center of the stage. Anna's jaw dropped slightly as she stared, blushing, seeing him dressed up in an dapper outfit, dressed in a black suit and top hat. Mimzy made a small smile and closed the human's mouth, watching the singer on stage. Alastor grinned as he held his microphone in his hand and began to sing.

"I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart." Anna felt her heart began to beat faster listening to the radio demon's voice, completely enthralled.

"In my heart I have but one desire and that one is you, no other will do."

"I've lost all ambition of worldly acclaim. I just want to be the one you love."

"And with your admission that you'd feel the same. I will have reached the goal I've been dreaming of." Anna began to tense up as she saw Alastor advancing closer towards her table.

She blinked only to find that he was now standing in front of her. She let out a small gasp in shock. Alastor made a wider grin as he bent down until his face was closer to hers.

"Believe me, I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart." Alastor placed a finger under Anna's chin, tilting her head up making her look at him. Her eyes widen as she saw him began to lean in closer towards her face until their nose touched, almost touching her lips with his. Anna whole body froze, in not moving an inch. She felt like her heart was about to leap from out of her chest as she looked up at Alastor.

Something within her snapped, this felt familiar to her. She felt like she was in this situation before. Cornered, unable to get away. But, the more she tried to remember, the more it slowly began slip away from her. She didn't like it. In fact, she was uncomfortable by it. She placed her hands on Alastor's chest shoving him, hard, away from her. He yelped in shock as he was pushed back bumping into a nearby table behind him, his hat fell off as well. A loud feedback squealed from Alastor's microphone as it emitted throughout the room followed by static. The whole room went silent as everyone in the room stared in surprise and some in fear.

Alastor stared at the woman with wide eyes. Mimzy covered her mouth her hand looking back and forth between the two in worry. Anna quickly stood up, making the chair screech as she did.

"I'm sorry." Anna murmured, softly, "I'm sorry..." and quickly left, leaving. Everyone watched as she did, with confused and some with angry looks on their faces.

"Boo! Bitch ruined the song!" Someone jeered in the audience.

#hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Alastor #Angel Dust #Vaggie #fanfiction #OC #hazbin hotel fanart

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hollywoodhangar · 4 years

Text

@soughtbirthright said: “i love you so much. i love you more than anything in the world.” to vaggie luv charlie!!!

STRANGER THINGS SENTENCE STARTERS.

Dark purple moths puffed from Vaggie’s lilac shoulders, peeling off like stickers and fluttering aimlessly above both their heads, dust lightly trickling off their wings. They’ve been together for how long, and still hearing something like that is enough to make her bloom? Emotions mirroring desire, needfulness and absolute adoration through her solo eye? How strange is it that despite all these years, Vaggie still feels touch-starved? Is it touch-starvation, though? Or the sweet addiction to hearing words like that come from her love’s mouth?

A gloved hand rests on Charlie’s chest as her Manager draws close, noses nearly touching.

“Say that again?”

#soughtbirthright #soughtbirthright: charlie.#🗡️ [ VAGGIE; IC. ] ━ 『 like a moth to a flame. 』#♈ [ BLOG; ASK. ] ━ 𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲!#(( CLAPS POTS AND PANS TOGETHER!!! HOLLARS WITH ADORE OVER THESE TWO!!!!! WOWOWOW- ))#(( f l u ff !!! ))

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lady-oceana9518 · 4 years

Text

The Moth and the Direwolf (Vaggie x OC)

A/N: I’ve decided to ship my Hazbin Hotel OC, Morgana (aka Morga) with Vaggie. I hope you all enjoy this bit of fluffiness between these two lovely ladies😁

“Wonderful work today, everyone! Remember to work on those breathing techniques we practiced!” Morgana called out after the demons currently leaving one of the Hazbin Hotel’s multipurpose rooms. She had just finished a yin yoga and meditation session with a group of demons who struggled with serious anger issues. Charlie, who noticed their especially fiery tempers almost as soon as they were admitted to the hotel, knew that she needed to get them involved in some sort of activity to calm them down. Since Morgana had been leading yoga and meditation sessions since her arrival in Hell a couple months prior, Charlie passed them off to her for some mindfulness training.

Morga stretched her arms overhead until she felt a satisfying pop in her back. Rolling up her red yoga mat and grabbing her water bottle, she headed up to her room for a shower before lunchtime.

After her shower, Morga dressed in a flowing gray blouse with a bow tie at the collar, black slacks, and silver kitten heels. She hummed a random tune as she walked, enjoying the satisfying sound of the heels of her shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.

Upon her arrival in the hotel’s dining room, Morga noticed that Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, and Niffty were just starting to tuck into their lunches.

“Afternoon, everyone!” Morga greeted, baring her sharp white fangs in a grin.

Everyone greeted her warmly except for a certain Radio Demon. It was no secret that he was uncomfortable around dogs for some reason, so throw in the fact that Morga could shift into a full-blown direwolf, and you can imagine his wariness around her. She was honestly a little disappointed. She got along well with the rest of the hotel staff and thought he seemed like an interesting fellow. She would’ve liked to be friends with him too; but she guessed that was a task for another day.

Shrugging subtly, she grabbed a Kaiser roll, stacked it high with sliced roast beef to the delight of her carnivorous self, and served herself some mixed fruit on the side. With her plate in hand, she took a seat next to Vaggie and flashed the moth demon a flirtatious grin. She delighted in the subtle blush that appeared on the younger woman’s cheeks as well as the shy smile she gave the direwolf shifter in return. Since her arrival in Hell, Morga couldn’t deny that she’d met some very attractive demonesses, Vaggie chief among them. There was also quite a fetching hellhound named Loona, but she unfortunately lived all the way in Imp City and didn’t seem interested in the direwolf’s flirtations.

“So Morga, how was your session this morning??” Charlie asked eagerly, all but bouncing in her seat.

Morga returned her already half-eaten sandwich to her plate before replying, “We has a wonderful time as always! I can honestly say that the residents in my class have seemed noticeably calmer since they’ve started practicing.”

“That’s amazing!! I know it probably hasn’t been easy managing a bunch of rowdy sinners when you haven’t been in Hell that long...but I really appreciate your help!” Charlie gushed with a smile.

Morga smiled back and started a bit when she felt a soft touch on her arm. Glancing to the side, her inquisitive green eyes met Vaggie’s own soft and imploring gaze. “How have you been holding up since you arrived in Hell? I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

Smiling softly at the beautiful moth demon, Morga gently took Vaggie’s hand in her own. Meanwhile, Charlie and Niffty “awwed” in the background. “It’s much different than life in Heaven, but in the best way. It’s beautiful up there but just wasn’t exciting or interesting enough for me. Here, I finally feel like I have a purpose again and have felt so welcomed thanks to you all,” Morga confessed, smiling to the group as a whole then turning and nuzzling her nose against Vaggie’s for good measure.

Alastor did his best to ignore the direwolf shifter who he was extremely wary of because of her canine shape shifting abilities, while Charlie and Niffty assured Morga that they were happy to have her on board.

After lunch, Charlie returned to her office with Alastor in tow, mentioning something about needing to work out the details for an upcoming fundraising event, while Niffty happily skipped off to clean the occupied hotel rooms. That left Morga and Vaggie, who were currently walking to the hotel’s library for a well-deserved break. Vaggie, still not trusting Alastor, was constantly on edge and worried that he would take advantage of and manipulate Charlie. Morga didn’t like seeing the moth demon so stressed and sought to help her relax in the best way she knew how.

Once the heavy oak doors of the library clicked shut behind the two women, Vaggie let out a heavy sigh and proceeded to sprawl out on one of the room’s large leather couches.

“I’m not the only one who thinks that that cheesy talk show shitlord seems sketchy and untrustworthy, right? Please tell me I’m not crazy, Morga,” Vaggie groaned, closing her eye and leaning back against the armrest.

In response, Morga shifted seamlessly into her direwolf form and padded over to Vaggie. Hopping up on the couch, she gently lowered herself on top of Vaggie so that her large head rested comfortingly on the moth demon’s chest. She whined softly, prompting Vaggie to open her pink and yellow eye. Morga gazed at her earnestly, silently assuring her that her feelings were valid. Vaggie smiled and chuckled in return, ruffling the fur between Morga’s ears. Morga rumbled happily, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the sensation. Vaggie wrapped her arms around Morga’s neck in a hug and rested her cheek on top of her head.

“Hey, Morga? I really like you,” Vaggie confessed.

With her tail thumping loudly on the couch, Morga whined happily and nuzzled affectionately against Vaggie’s chin. Vaggie giggled softly and Morga remained in her wolf form for the next hour until she sensed that Vaggie had calmed down. Eventually, the two dozed off.

A couple hours later, Vaggie awoke, momentarily disoriented until she glanced down at the beautiful woman sleeping below her. Blushing and smiling to herself, she realized that she had been using the wolf shifter’s ample bosom as a pillow and Morga still had her arms wrapped around Vaggie’s waist. She guessed Morga had shifted back into her humanoid form while the two of them were napping. Vaggie placed a soft kiss onto Morga’s forehead, after which the wolf shifter’s leaf-green eyes fluttered open. She smiled up at Vaggie and cupped the right side of her face with her hand, which the moth demon happily leaned into.

“Hey, Vaggie? I really like you too,” Morga cooed, happy that she was finally able to respond to Vaggie’s earlier confession in words.

Vaggie, bursting with happiness, leaned down and captured Morga’s soft lips in her own. With a groan, Morga placed her hand on the back of Vaggie’s head to draw her closer. After several moments the two women withdrew, breathless, to gaze into each other’s eyes with fond smiles.

Who could’ve imagined that it was possible to find something, and someone, so beautiful in the middle of Hell?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel oc #morgana the direwolf #vivziepop

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artemisnightingale216 · 5 years

Text

Love and What We Do in its Name: Ch 4- Predator

Authors Note: He finally arrives!

Prologue

Chapter 1- Unemployed

Chapter 2- A New Beginning

Chapter 3- Hopeful

Ottilie stared deep into those crimson eyes, nearly lost in their depth. She should have removed herself from the floor by now, but she couldn’t seem to move. Glued to the spot, she was left with nothing to do but stare back as those eyes looked deep into hers as well, almost as if they were looking into her very being. A chill ran down her spine, colder than even her skin. There was no denying that there was a certain allure to them that was drawing her in, but at the same time she found herself afraid of them. They spoke of an ancient time when fear ran deep and creatures roamed the night, searching for prey to sink their teeth into.

***

The demon said nothing as he stared back at her. It was a waiting game she was unwittingly playing with him. He wanted to see who would make the first move. Would he get bored of waiting or would she get nervous enough and look away, he wondered. He wasn’t exactly known for getting bored so easily, however, so it was just a matter of when she would realize the situation she was in.

Her eyes were wide enough that she was clearly alarmed, something he always found amusing, but she wasn’t acting twitchy either. She was surprisingly still whereas anyone else would have either looked away or tried to make a break for it by now. He could almost admire that, but he much prefered outright fear. They were still playing, however, and he was not prepared to lose.

***

Ottilie was not sure how long they stared at each other. It could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour, but either way she realized how odd it must have been for her to just be staring at him like this and eventually blinked rapidly to break whatever spell his eyes had her under. Unknowingly losing their game and making his eyes narrow slightly in satisfaction, she shook her head a bit and regained her focus.

The demon sitting before her appeared to be of the deer variety, two small black antlers sprouting from his head. His two long ears stood straight up, twitching slightly every now and again as if he were searching for unknown noises, and were colored red but blended into black halfway to the tips. His hair, which was cut in an almost bob-style fashion, was colored the same as his ears and his bangs were parted to the side away from his face. Those perplexing eyes were crimson in the scleras but scarlet in the irises, his brows extending in an arch to meet each corner with the area in between being a dark red hue. His smile, which bared large pointed teeth that seemed to spell death in their terrifying glint, was easily the largest part of his face with the way it took up half of it. His nose was of average size, but ended in a point that made it look longer than it actually was. The skin of his face was ashen white, but his hands were black with long slender fingers that extended into scarlet claws in the middle. His attire, not unlike hers, was a thing of the past. His knee length overcoat had large pointed shoulders that appeared to be padded, scarlet pin stripes that ran down the length of it, black lapels, and scarlet cuffs. His undershirt was scarlet and the hem peaked out at the bottom from the opening at the bottom of his overcoat, an inverted black cross spread across his chest as the buttons near the top were left undone. His black pants bent backwards and then forwards again, following the curve of his legs, and were lined with scarlet at the hems. His black dress shoes were long and pointed on his feet, large but somehow slender at the same time. A black monocle with dark red glass sat on the corner of his his left eye and the beaded chain extended down to nowhere, leaving her to wonder how it stayed in place.

“Um… I’m sorry for bumping into you,” she apologized, moving to stand up off the floor.

He moved at the same time as her, surprising her as he reached his full height. Easily towering over her, she just barely came up to his shoulders. Now that he was standing, she could see that the bottom of his overcoat was slightly tattered and it hugged his slender waist, his chest broad in comparison. His legs appeared to be the longest part of him, but that may have had something to do with the fact that she couldn’t see his hips.

“Don’t fret about it, sweetheart! No harm, no fowl!” the demon said in an overzealous tone, pulling her from her thoughts. It was one thing to hear his chuckle, but his voice was another thing entirely. It had a certain charm to it, but the crackle of a microphone that came with each word made it a bit disconcerting.

Something began to nag at her now that she was actually seeing who owned the voice in person. She felt as if she should either be running from him or at the very least extremely cautious around him, but she couldn’t figure out why. She was not naive enough to believe there wasn’t anything he would or could do to harm her; they were in Hell, after all, but he had yet to lay a finger on her, either. Still, there was a voice at the back of her head practically screaming at her to flee from him.

An image suddenly popped into her head. A poster she’d seen many times on buildings while out in the city. A sense of dread filled her and it showed on her face, the first real bit of emotion he’d seen her make. His attire, voice, and demeanor all seemed to make sense as it finally dawned on her who he really was. There were things about the poster that didn’t match up with him, but there were plenty more that did.

“You’re... the Radio Demon… Aren’t you?” she asked quietly, her voice a bit shaky. She already knew the answer before he even said it, but still she dreaded the words that came next.

“Well, I prefer the name Alastor… but yes, I am,” he smiled sinisterly down at her.

***

Alastor was a bit caught off guard by this small slip of a demoness in front of him. Not many demons could recognize him so easily, especially when he was in this inconspicuous form. Charlie and Vaggie had known who he was instantly, but that probably had more to do with the fact that the first of the two was the princess. Angel hadn’t a clue at the time, though, in his case, Angel didn’t pay attention much to anything unless he wanted to have sex with it or found it entertaining; not to say that Angel hadn’t mentioned on more than one occasion that he found him attractive, but they simply weren’t each others types.

He was also a bit confused by her. He was more than used to seeing demons of all shapes, sizes, and colors, but he was certain he’d never seen a blue incubus demoness before. They were also standing at least a foot apart from each other and yet he could feel the cold rolling off of her. He could only imagine what her skin must feel like. It also came as a bit of a surprise that she had a British accent. He knew quite a few people from Britain, but he never would have guessed that she would be as well.

He was certainly not confused by her fear, however. He was more than used to seeing that from both his many years in Hell and even his time as a human. He thrived on it, letting it drive him on like no other emotion could.

“You know, between you and me, quite frankly I’m surprised you caught on so fast. None of the previous maids did… and it cost them dearly,” he pointed out, watching and waiting for her to realize just what he was saying.

“You mean.... Did you… You killed them,” she tripped over her words, catching on to his words rather quickly. It wasn’t even a question by the time she was done with it. She already knew what he’d meant.

“Yes, I did,” he replied bluntly.

“Why would you tell me that? I could easily just run and tell Charlie,” she said, taking a step back and away from him.

“Oh? And who is she going to believe? A long time resident of the hotel,” he placed a hand to his chest, “or some young woman they hired in off the street who could very well just be trying to start trouble?” he gestured with his other hand towards her. Charlie certainly knew him well enough to know it wasn’t a lie, but he would hardly tell her he was bluffing. That would ruin his fun. “Besides… who said I would make it easy on you?” He took a step towards her and leaned down so their faces were level, the sound of static filling the air around them as his eyes took on their unnatural glow.

She was visibly alarmed at the sight of his partial demonic form, but he was completely taken aback when her expression turned to a blank slate. There was nothing about her he could read. No fear, no animosity, no anger. Nothing. It was as if she’d been wiped clean of any sort of personality.

“You’re right. No one would believe me over you. And I have no real reason to tell them. I didn’t know any of the previous maids,” she said, her voice as blank as the face she was making.

He stared at her wide eyed, his ever present smile still on his face even as his jaw closed with a slight ‘clack’. He stood up straight again, not sure what to make of the woman before him. “Well… good to know we’re on the same page, then!” He continued to stare at her for a moment, something being to nag at him now. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” she said with certainty, shaking her head a bit.

“Are you sure?” he asked, raising a brow and tilting his head slightly. “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere…. I haven’t killed you before, have I?”

“I think I would remember something like that,” she remarked. “Perhaps you’ve seen me on the street or something like that.”

“That’s true, but I don’t think that’s the case… Hm,” he hummed in thought, knowing it would likely bug him all day until he remembered where he’d seen her. “Oh, well! I’m sure it’ll come to me! It appears you have lots of work to do, so I’ll not be taking up any more of your time! I’ll be seeing you around, Miss…?” He trailed off purposefully, knowing full well he hadn’t bothered to ask for her name yet.

“Ottilie,” she replied, not even hesitating to give him her name.

“Ottilie,” he repeated, finding that it had a nice ring to it. “Do have a nice rest of your day, Miss Ottilie!”

“Thank you. I hope you have one, too.” She leaned down and picked up the sheets she’d dropped after they bumped into each other, leaving him to wonder how she expected to carry them all the way down stairs when she could hardly see over it. “I will see you around the hotel, then.” She was careful to step around him this time as she made her way towards the stairs again.

“Oh yes,” he smiled as he watched her retreating figure, a devious sense of satisfaction filling him as his eyes glowed once again. “You certainly will.”

*****

Ottilie wouldn’t admit it, but she’d been happy to be as far away from Alastor as possible once she made it down to the laundry room. She could still feel chills running up and down her spine every time she so much as thought about their encounter even though it’d been nearly two hours. Thankfully, she’d had the laundry to keep her mind otherwise occupied.

When her mind did return to her interaction with the Radio Demon, though, she wondered if his room had been the one with the red ‘x’ on the door. It would only make sense. She hadn’t met everyone in the hotel yet, but she couldn’t imagine there’d be anyone else they’d have to take such drastic measures against. The previous maids who’d been there before her now seemed justified in their refusal to go anywhere near his room. They’d had every right to be wary of him, but that hadn’t seemed to do them any good in the end.

It was strange that they hadn’t reported him to Charlie once they recovered from whatever he did to them, though. Demons regenerated any wounds they might sustain and it usually didn’t take them long. Regeneration speed depended on the demons themselves, but they always bounced back one way or another, so his admission to having killed them perplexed her. She’d expected him to correct her and say he’d either harmed or scared them into silence, but he hadn’t done either. The only thing that could kill a demon were the spears that the Exterminators carried, so she could only hope that he hadn’t gotten his hands on one.

Unable to bare the thought any longer, she shook anything having to do with Alastor from her mind. She knew it would be hard considering he lived in the same place she worked, but it wouldn’t bother her at all if she never had to talk to him again. She’d be even happier if they had nothing to do with each other at all.

It was much easier to focus now without Alastor on her mind. She could more easily get her work done and find time to get the laundry room in a working order. Charlie and Vaggie probably had a lot on their plate, so she could hardly blame them for the state it was in. Getting it organized between loads reminded her of when she would set out Angels makeup and pick up after him once shooting was done for the day. Some things never seemed to change for her.

Despite the sound of the washer and dryer going constantly, it was remarkably quiet in the basement. The concrete walls surrounding her blocked out the sound of footsteps above her head and no one bothered her while she worked, leaving her with a rare sense of peace. At the studio, she’d next to never been alone with people rushing out and about and at her cottage she’d only ever felt lonely, but at least here she knew there were others not too far away.

Like it always did, the need to hum came unconsciously. It was a lovely little tune with no real words to it that rose and fell like the tide in the sea. Eventually, though, it turned into a steady rhythm and words began to flow quietly from between her lips.

“Dancing bears,

Painted wings,

Things I almost remember,

And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.

Someone holds me safe and warm,

Horses prance through a silver storm,

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.”

She swayed slightly with the beat of the tune, the washer and dryer almost seeming to play along with her. Her hands paused in their task of folding the pillow case she’d been holding as her arms raised into the air and her feet began to move, her entire body gliding and spinning around the floor as if she were in a trance. Gone for the moment was the pain in her feet and any other worry she’d had on her mind.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,

Horses prance through a silver storm,

Figures dancing gracefully across my mem-.”

She never got to finish the melody. There was a brief flash of cold pain across her head, like someone had taken a spike made of ice and stabbed it into her brain, before she was sent into a kneeling position on the floor. Though brief, the pain had left her reeling. She felt dizzy and weightless, like she might completely drop to the floor at any second. She held her head between her hands and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to steady herself as she waited for whatever ailment had fallen over her to subside. Once it did, a strange image came to her mind. It was short, only lasting about as the pain had, but still carrying a significant amount of weight to it.

It was a memory.

There was a man standing in front of her, but he toward over her, the top of her head just barely coming up to his hip. He was wearing a finely tailored white suit and black loafers, for whatever odd reason making her wonder why he wasn’t wearing a brown suit, and his shoulder length blonde hair was tied back in a low bow. Her toes were placed on top of his and his large hands held her tiny ones as he kept her balanced. He was smiling down at her as he said, “Would my lovely little Lottie care to dance with me?”

It was so short. Perhaps only thirty seconds or even a minute at best, but even so she knew it was a memory. With really so few to speak of, she’d been grasping at them and holding tight so she wouldn’t lose a single one, so there was no trace of doubt that it wasn’t just her imagination. The problem was, however, that it certainly didn’t come from her time in Hell. She would have never allowed herself to forget those kind and lovely green eyes.

‘My childhood, perhaps?’ she thought, but that didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t remember anything prior to the day she’d died, so there was no reason she should have this memory. ‘Unless…’

A sense of excitement filled her as she stood from the floor and rushed out of the room like it was on fire. Not even caring if she got lost, she ran up and down the hallways, looking into each room she passed and forgetting her manners as she threw open doors without knocking first. In one of the rooms was a short fish-like demon messing around with multi colored liquid filled vials, beakers and burners all around the table he was standing at.

He turned to look at her in surprise, nearly dropping the purple beaker he was holding, his hands fumbling quickly for it before he firmly gripped it again. His surprise turned to a grimace as he regarded her. “Why don’t you knock next time?” His jaw dropped as she simply closed the door without so much as an apology. “Humph. How rude.” He moved to turn back to the table, but the beaker slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor, the glass shattering against the hardwood. “Uh oh,” he frowned as smoke began to rise from the bubbling spot.

Ottilie ignored the small explosion she heard behind her as she came to a cross in the hallway. She looked up and down the hall, unsure of where to go. Feeling as if she were trapped in a maze, she briefly entertained the idea of just giving up and finding the stairwell when a familiar voice echoed down the hall. Sprinting faster than she had that morning when she was being toad around, she followed the voice until she found herself standing outside a drawing room with a bar to one side and seating area to the other.

Angel was sitting at the bar, two hands on his hip, one elbow on the wooden surface, and the other hand propping up his chin. A seductive smile was spread across his face as he addressed the person bent over the bar with his head buried in his arms, apparently trying to ignore his flirting. “Why do you keep trying to fight this thing we have between us, Pussyfoot? Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in to your feelings?”

“The only feeling I have right now is the desire to break a bottle over your head,” came a muffled reply, the voice sounding tired and hoarse.

“Oh, so you do have a desire for me?” Angel laughed, leaning closer to the bent over man. “And you’re even comin’ up with fantasies already. How practical of you.” His affections were met with a groan of annoyance, but he never got the chance to address it.

“Angel Dust!” Ottilie called excitedly as she rushed into the room.

Angel looked up in shock at hearing her call for him so loudly while his companion merely peeked out from his arms before burying his head again. Ottilie nearly skidded past him, but he caught her shoulders and held her in place as she panted slightly from the exertion of running. “Whoa, where’s the fire, kiddo? Or do I just make you that hot?”

“I’m about as hot for you as the temperature of my skin,” Ottilie replied, making Angel pout slightly.

“I’m a little busy here, toots. Can’t this wait until-,” Angel started as he gestured his head toward the bent over man.

“I had a memory!” Ottilie beamed, catching him off guard.

“Wait, what? Really?” Angel asked, his eyes wide before they filled with delight. “What happened? Tell me everything!”

“I was doing the wash in the laundry room when suddenly I saw this image of a man. I was so small, so I think I must have been a child. He had me standing on his feet and was holding my hands when he asked me to dance,” Ottilie explained, a smile on her face as she recalled it, the image still playing over and over in her head.

“That’s what all the fuss was about?” the man asked, peeking out from his arms again and raising a brow at her. “Seems like a lot of fuss over nothing.”

Angel narrowed his eyes slightly. “She has memory loss. Up until now, she hasn’t been able to remember anything since the time she died.”

The man gave a crude and unconvincing laugh. “Lucky.”

“Eh, don’t mind him,” Angel rolled his eyes. “He’s been a grouch ever since Queenie and Princess took away his liquor.”

“Don’t say liquor,” the man groaned again.

Ottilie looked between the two for a moment before her gaze settled on the one bent over. “I take it this is Husk, then?”

He raised his head fully now and looked at her, his brows furrowed. “How do you know that?” He leaned forward slightly, looking rather angry now. “Did the casinos send you? Tell them I’m not paying a cent until they apologize for being a bunch of cu-.”

“I don’t work for any casino. Angel Dust talks about you a lot, is all,” Ottilie explained.

Angel laughed nervously at that. “What she means is, I mentioned everyone from time to time when we worked together on the set. It’s not like I went out of my way to talk about you or nothin’.”

“I said what I meant,” Ottilie deadpanned, making Angels face fall in annoyance as Husks fell in disinterest.

In the short silence that followed, Ottilie took that time to look over the person that had apparently left Angel so enamored.

Husk appeared to be of the cat variety, something she didn’t see much of in Hell. The thing that set him apart from most cat demons, however, were the large scarlet, black, and white wings sprouting from his shoulders; the majority of the feathers were scarlet, but black stripes containing red hearts and whites spades inside them lined the inside, and plain black stripes on the outside with a row of dots between the top two stripes and a row of hearts between the bottom three. Had he been standing up straight, she would have seen that he was fairly tall, coming up to Angels shoulder when not including his ears. He was covered from head to toe in white and black fur, the fur resembling a suite but in reality he was practically naked; the only two pieces of clothing he was actually wearing was a scarlet and gold buckled top hat and a scarlet bow tie around his neck. A black tail hung from his backside, the tip fanning out into feathers that matched his wings, but were without the hearts and spades. The interior of his ears were white with pink stripes and white hearts and his small black nose was heart shaped as well. His scarlet eyebrows were thick and bushy, starting out thin but thickening as they extended away from his head. The black fur on his arms poofed out at his elbows and his fingers were white, making it look like he was wearing fingerless gloves. His eyes were a dark brown with his irises standing out in a lovely gold, but there were dark circles under and around his eyes, like he was constantly tired.

“Any how, you two haven’t been properly introduced yet. Pussyfoot, this is Angel Face. Angel Face, this is Pussyfoot,” Angel said, clearly not liking the silence that appeared to have been centered around him.

Husk let out a long sigh as he sat up, though he still leaned against the bar, and held out a hand towards her. “Husk.”

“Ottilie,” she said in reply as she hesitantly took his hand. She was rather surprised to find that his hands were cold as well. Not nearly as cold as hers, but cold enough that she could tell they weren’t as warm as they were supposed to be. Like most people, he noticed how cold to the touch she was even through gloves, but it didn’t seem to bother him as much as it did others. “Do you drink often?” she asked once they pulled apart.

“Whenever I can,” Husk shrugged, placing his chin in his hand. “Which isn’t very often around here.”

Angel looked at her in question. “Why do you look like you just ate a lemon?”

Ottilies face had contorted into one of displeasure. She’d been unaware of this until it returned to its blank state. “I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”

“I’m guessing you don’t drink often, then,” Husk assumed.

“I’ve never had any alcohol, that I know of. I’ve tried to, but something made me stop every time I tried,” she explained. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Husk shrugged again. “I’ve had worse done to me. Sour faces don’t bother me anymore. Nothing really bothers me anymore.” He glanced over at Angels smirking face. “Except you.”

“Oh, come off it, Pussyfoot. You know you want all this,” Angel said as he caressed his chest and slide his hands down the length of his body. Husk rolled his eyes and started walking around the bar, his back slumped a bit and his steps unenthusiastic. “Hey, where are you going?” Husk ignored him as he headed towards the entryway. “Come back here! I will not be ignored!” He chased after him, making Husk move faster than he had before.

Ottilie shook her head, feeling a pang of pity for Husk. Once Angel set his sights on someone, there was no stopping him until he got what he wanted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him go so hard someone, however. Then again, Angel didn’t handle rejection very well, and Husk appeared to be doing just that every step of the way. That would only make him want Husk all the more.

With nothing left for her upstairs, she returned to the basement, painfully aware of the throbbing in her feet again as she waited for the washer and dryer to finish their last load. Once she was out of sight, she slipped her shoes off and let the cool stone beneath her feet soothe her pain. While one foot sat against the concrete, she rubbed at the other, feeling slight relief without the cumbersome confines of her shoes.

Thinking back to the shoes in her closet at home, she realized she didn’t have any that would be appropriate for this sort of work. Everything she had only had heels on them. She didn’t have enough money to go out and buy a new pair of shoes, either. She wasn’t even sure if her landlord would wait for her to have enough money to pay off what she would owe; her landlord had always been a stern woman who didn’t allow any wiggle room when it came to her tenants. She was more than happy to have a job once again, but in the end she was halfway back to where she was at the beginning, which was facing living out on the streets, if only for a short while.

***

So deep in her thoughts as Ottilie was, she was unaware of the figure lurking near the doorway, watching her intently with a predatory gaze.

Like most things, it didn’t go unnoticed by him that her shoes were causing her pain. That simply wouldn’t do for him. If she fell behind in her work, she may lose her job and his new prey might disappear from sight; it wouldn’t be the first time Vaggie had let someone go for falling behind, something that had always miffed him in the past. Not to say that he wouldn’t be able to find her; he’d found all the others who’d been unexpectedly let go without a problem on his part. It would be an inconvenience for him, though, and he was not about to take that chance due to poor choice of footwear.

It had become a sort of habit for Alastor to watch the maids, be they new or old. In the beginning, when there maids a plenty, he would spend most of his day watching them. He would learn their habits, how they interacted with the guests and each other, and what seemed to frighten them the most. The others had been easy. They wore their emotions as easily as they wore their uniforms.

Right off the bat, Ottilie seemed to be a special case. Unlike the other maids and just about everyone else in Hell, she had looked him dead in the eye and showed no fear. Or any emotion at all, for that matter. There was something admirable to him about this, but the smell of her fear and the look on her face had been delectable to him. For someone to hardly show emotion like she did, one could almost consider them a delicacy.

He could smell her even though the laundry soap and water wafting through the air. Whatever emotion she’d been feeling when she’d been sprinting through the halls was what made him follow her, the fragrance like an irresistible perfume to him. Her scent was cool, like the first snowfall of winter over a field of mint leaves, but there were brief undertones of spring there as well. Orange blossoms, jasmine, rosewood, and just a hint of lavender. They were best noticeable whenever she had a spike in her emotions and left his mouth watering in anticipation.

He knew he was hooked. There was no denying it for him. He craved that scent like an addict craved their fix. He needed more of it. He would have more of it even if it was the last thing he ever did and, if he had any say in the matter, he would have a taste of her as well.

He was going to enjoy this.

***

“Good afternoon, Angel Dust. You’re looking rather radiant today,” Alastor casually approached the spider demon where he sat in the foyer, his and Ottilies interaction not too long ago telling him that the two were fairly close, and her scent pooling off of him only furthering that assumption. If he was going to get any useful information he could use, it would be from him, though he knew it would be tricky. While not necessarily smart, the long legged demon was quick witted and prone to anger, meaning he’d have to tread lightly if he was going to get what he needed.

Like Alastor knew he would, Angel ate the compliment up and turned to look at him with a smirk as he placed the magazine he’d been reading in his lap. “Well, you’re not lookin’ too bad yourself, deer boy.”

Alastor ignored the nickname and returned the smirk. “You seem to be in rather good spirits, too. Anything special happen today?”

“Well, I finally got that thing that was stuck in my teeth out, if that’s what you’re askin’,” Angel shrugged as he picked the magazine back up and resumed slowly flipping through the pages. It wasn’t what Alastor had meant at all and he felt a twinge of annoyance, wondering how anyone could be so daft. “Oh, and I got a gal pal of mine a job here. That’s something, I guess.”

Alastors eyes narrowed slightly and his smirk widened, this fact going unnoticed by the other demon. It was a step in the right direction. “Really, now? It wouldn’t happen to be that new maid I saw out and about, would it?”

“Yeah. She used to be my makeup gal but they canned her cause they said her work was too ‘old fashioned.’ I thought it was great, but hey, what do I know? I’m only the star, right?” Angel chuckled.

“Right,” Alastor agreed for the sake of his cause. “That’s such a shame, though. Poor girl must have been devastated when she lost her job.”

“She was, but I found her in the nick of time,” Angel commented.

“Oh, really? How so?” Alastor pressed further, smoothly making it seem like he was just keeping the conversation going.

“She was about to lose her place in a few days if she didn’t find a job soon. Lucky for her, I swooped in and found her one. She’s lucky I’m such a saint who always looks after his pals,” Angel said, half sarcastic and half serious.

Now that was certainly something Alastor could use to his advantage. “Yes,” his smile broadened further. “Very lucky for her indeed.” He checked the time on the clock. “I’m very sorry to have to cut our conversation short, but I have a prior engagement I need to attend to. Please do excuse me.”

“Sure, sure,” Angel waved him off as he headed down the hall, unaware of the trouble he might have just caused.

***

“Come in,” Charlie called from the other side of the door, Alastor having knocked lightly on it. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him. “Oh, Alastor! Right on time, as always! Come in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll put the tea on.” She set the papers she’d been looking over aside on the desk and stood from her chair.

“Thank you,” he said as he walked over to the sitting area in the study-turned-office, the routine all too familiar after having done it every week for several months. He propped his staff up against the arm of the sofa and waited patiently as he took his usual seat at the end of it. “We have a new employee, I see.”

“Oh, yeah! Ottilie! Really nice once you get to know her, but a bit shy at first. I think she’ll do well around here,” Charlie said as she waited for the tea bags to seep into the hot water and pulled out a small stack of papers while she did. “Hopefully we can keep her on. I just don’t understand why the other girls just up and left like they did.”

“Well, I’m sure they had their reasons,” he cocked his head slightly. He always found her naivety to be childlike and quite frankly laughable, but it suited his needs. She had been wary of him in the beginning, but in the end never saw what was going on right under her nose.

“I’m sure they did, too, but I wish they’d at least have left a notice. Maybe Vaggie was right. Hiring people that came after the nineteen fifties was a bad idea,” Charlie shook her head and sighed as she handed him a cup and saucer before placing the papers on the table. She placed them in an orderly fashion so she could see the more important parts and sat down. “Now, last session we got into the emotions you feel whenever you get the urge to kill someone, so I thought we’d expand further on that. Tell me about your day, Alastor. Tell me how you’re feeling in this very moment.”

He just loved it when things fell right into place for him and he barely had to do a thing to make it happen. Resisting the smirk that pulled at his face, he let his smile waver as he stirred his tea and placed the spoon down. “Well… you see… I find myself troubled.”

“Oh no. Did something happen?” Charlie asked worriedly.

“Not to me, per say, but poor Miss Ottilie,” he explained, feigning worry himself but somehow still masterfully wearing his signature smile. “I’m afraid I’ve just learned that she’s been facing being put out on the streets. Angel tells me that this job was her way of keeping off of them, but I fear she won’t be able to afford her lodgings with only a few days left to come up with it.” He let out a sigh and took a sip of his tea. “If only there were some way to help her.”

Charlie looked incredibly empathetic in that moment, her eyes staring down at the table as she wracked her brain for some sort answer to this unforeseen problem. Her face brightened as an idea seemed to strike her and a smile pulled across her face. “Why don’t we just have her stay here? She works here already, so it only makes sense!”

Alastor smiled as well. “Now isn’t that just a wonderful idea! I’m sure she… wait…”

“What is it?” Charlie asked, her face falling slightly.

“I only had a small chance to speak with the young miss today but, from what I can tell, she seems much too prideful to accept such a generous offer,” he pointed out.

“That’s true.” Charlie thought to herself again, her finger tapping her chin. “Oh! We can just tell her it’s something we do for all the employees! I’m sure she’ll want to take it then!”

He was practically beaming at her now, feeling a slight sense of pride that she was able to work it out more or less on her own. “Fantastic! That ideas more sensational than the building of the Hoover Dam!”

“This is so amazing! Thinking about other people is a sure sign you’re on the road to redemption! I’m really proud of you, Alastor!” Charlie clapped her hands. “I’ll go and tell her right now! Do you mind waiting while I do?”

“No problem at all, sweetheart. I can wait all day if you need me to,” Alastor smiled.

“Great! I’ll be back as soon as I can! Don’t go anywhere!” Charlie said as she dashed out of the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

Eventually, the buzzer on the dryer went off and Ottilie let out a sigh as she was pulled from her thoughts. After switching out the sheets and beginning to fold the dry ones, she decided she would go and talk to her landlord. With a bit of hope, her landlord would be a bit understanding, or she would have a few days to pack her handful of belongings. At the very least, it would give her some piece of mind.

She was putting away the folded linens when the sound of hurried footsteps ran across the floor above her head. She looked up in confusion, wondering if running about was common in the hotel. Working below the first floor, she assumed she’d have to get used to the sound.

It wasn’t until the sound started to echo through the room that she realized whoever it was had come to the basement. She turned to the door, a slightly look of worry on her face. There was really no reason someone should be coming down here unless they needed her for something. Her worry spread into a bit of fear, wondering if it was Alastor coming. She may have been able to put on a blank face in front of him, but that didn’t mean she was stupid enough not to be afraid of him. As the footsteps came closer and closer, she backed away until her back hit the washer, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the door as she could.

“Ottilie!” a voice called, making her jump in surprise, before she saw a blur of white, black, and blonde go skidding past the door. A second later she heard a crash followed by the clatter of mops, brooms, and a bucket went rolling past the doorway. Charlie came into the view after removing herself from the floor, her clothes rumpled and hand against the doorframe to steady herself. “There you are. I’m glad I found you before you left.” She was slightly out of breath, having run all the way there.

“Oh,” Ottilie said, relaxing a bit at the knowledge that it wasn’t Alastor. “Did you need me for-.” She happen to glance down and ended up doing a double-take. Trying to repress the smile that was trying to overtake her face, she covered her mouth as her shoulders shook slightly.

Charlie cocked her head in confusion. “What is it?” Ottilie pointed at her foot, unable to speak for fear of bursting out laughing. She looked down to see a bucket stuck to her foot. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment and her own smile reflected this as she looked back up. After kicking the bucket off her foot, she adjusted her clothing and righted herself before clearing her throat. “Yes. I did need you. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ottilie felt her worry return. Charlies tone was all business and, in her experience, that never ended well for her. “Have I done something wrong?”

Charlies eyes widened. “Huh? Oh, no! No, no, no! You haven’t done anything wrong at all!” She walked further into the room before stopping and looking around, noticing how tidy it was now. A smile came to her face. “Actually, you seem to be doing really well. No, I just wanted to talk to you about your room here.”

“My… my room?” Ottilie asked in confusion.

“Yeah! All the employees here get their own room during the duration of their employment here!” Charlie explained. “We figure since you’ll be working here anyway, it only seems fair that we give you your own room.”

Ottilie should have been jumping at the chance to take what was being offered her. Anyone else would have, but she found herself reluctant to do so. She had spent a long time living in relative seclusion, only leaving her home when it was necessary. There were times when she was lonely, but her seclusion had kept her safe. It had kept people from asking questions and looking at her like a pariah. No one had done that here, but it was only a matter of time, and her interview with Charlie had left her uncomfortable enough.

It wasn’t as if she was attached to her home, though. Most of the furniture there belonged to her landlord and the articles that did were only trivial possessions. Even so, there was something about it that she was reluctant to leave behind. Perhaps it was because she had spent so much of her time there that many of the memories she had, bland and boring as they might seem, were permanently tied to it.

Was she really willing to take the chance of uprooting her entire life, she wondered.

“Um… I…” Ottilie trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Yes?” Charlie asked, confused at Ottilies hesitance.

“Well… it’s not that I’m not grateful for the offer but-,” Ottilie started.

“Of course she’ll take the room!” Angel proclaimed as he came bursting into the room, walking over to stand beside her.

“But Angel Dust, I-,” Ottilie started again before he shushed her.

“I need to borrow her for a second. Hold that thought,” Angel said as he placed his hands on her shoulders and scooted her out of the room, Charlie watching them go with no idea what to do in this situation. “Why didn’t you say yes as soon as she offered it to you? This is a really good opportunity for you!”

“I know but…” Ottilie trailed off once again, not used to voicing her thoughts like this.

“But what?” Angel pressed, not letting the subject drop for a second.

“I’m scared,” she admitted in a quiet voice, quieter than usual.

“Why? I’m here with you, aren’t I? What do you have to be scared of?” he crossed all of his arms.

“I… I…” The words kept getting stuck in her throat, not wanting to come up no matter how hard she tried to force them. She let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Nevermind. I was just being silly. Of course I’ll take the room.”

“Yay!” they heard Charlie cheer from inside the room.

******

A figure across the street from the hotel waited patiently outside of a casino, not intending to go in to either establishments. His arms were crossed over his chest and his back was leaning against the brick wall behind him, his fingers tapping his forearms in slight agitation. He was patient, but only to a certain extent. He’d been waiting there for a few hours now and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure it.

“Hey, budy. You looking for a good time?” a demon approached him as he opened his jacket, revealing a hidden pocket with a packet of a white, powdery substance inside.

He sneered in annoyance. It hadn’t been the first time someone had come towards him to offer their cheap, knock off drugs. They may have been in the upper class area, but that didn’t necessarily mean the drugs met those standards. He wasn’t against the use of drugs. He quite enjoyed them, but he needed to be level headed and he couldn’t be in the right state of mind with them in the picture. He also wasn’t in the habit of lowering himself to partaking in buying from such a low life demon. He had standards, after all.

“Beat it, quack. I wouldn’t touch that stuff even it were coated in gold,” he replied.

The demon growled and spit at his feet. “Suit yourself, ya dick.” He stalked off, looking for another potential buyer as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

His sneer turned into a grimace as he looked down at the snot on his previously polished loafers. After pulling a handkerchief out of the pocket on his chest, he wiped the blemish from his person and tossed it aside, wanting nothing more to do with the tainted cloth. He then brushed a miniscule speck of dirt from his suit, making sure he was perfectly presentable before the public.

He noticed a few women smirking at him as they passed, flirty smiles on their faces as they looked him over. Reasonably handsome as he was, their attraction was only furthered by the fine clothing he wore. He smirked back at them, having to resist the urge to chase after and work his charm on them. If he left to chase after them, he’d miss his chance, and he couldn’t promise it would end well for them once it was all said and done.

His patience seemed to have paid off, though, because he saw four figures stepping out of the hotel. One he recognized as the princess, the tallest he knew from some adult magazines he’d happened upon, and the other he’d never seen before. The fourth, however, he felt his eyes narrow on, that blue skin and lavender hair all too recognizable. The four of them walked down the stairs and waited as a limo started come around from the back.

He hurried across the street, pretending to look down at his phone as he slowed his pace once he was within hearing distance of them.

“Now, I know staying here at the hotel will be a bit of an adjustment for you, but we’ll try to make it as easy as possible!” the princess said enthusiastically.

“And be sure to let us know if anyone starts to give you trouble. I can name more than one who’ll do that,” the unknown grey skinned demon said as she glanced at the taller male demon.

“Hey, I know how to be behave!” he shot back. “I just choose not to.”

“Angel Dust, Vaggie, not now,” the princess hushed the two before turning back to Ottilie. “For now, why don’t we focus on getting your things and then we can get you settled into your new room? Hopefully we can get your things all in one go.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Ottilie said. “I don’t have much.”

“That’s a relief,” Angel sighed before Vaggie punched him in the gut, not giving him any time to retaliate as the limo pulled up and she climbed inside. He grimaced in anger. “Get back out here, you little bi-!” The rest of his words were lost as he jumped in as well, the long car starting to rock once he was inside.

“Oh, come on! I just had the upholstery fixed after the last fight you two had!” the princess ducked inside, clearly not in the mood to break up another fight.

Ottilie stepped in once they were all inside and closed the door, the limo pulling off and driving down the street.

He felt his phone start to crack as he gripped it to the point of breaking. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Anger was bubbling and festering inside of him, making his already red skin turn an even darker shade, and steam began to rise up around him.

Ottilie had spent only one day at the hotel and yet here she was moving into it. He knew all about the hotel and what it was made for, but he couldn’t believe for even a second that she would be signing up for the redemption program. It just wasn’t her style. It also wouldn’t suite with his needs if she was. He needed her alone, not around other demons who could hinder his plans.

The phone began to melt in his hands and he dropped it before the molten pieces could stick to his hands. Though there was no dirt on them, he brushed his hands against each other and calmed himself as he turned away from the hotel. Getting angry right now wouldn’t help him. He simply needed to adjust his plans.

He was deep in thought as he walked the opposite way the limo had gone down the street. Everything he’d worked for the last few months had just been tarnished, so he had a lot to think about. He needed to find a way to get her alone again, but that would be difficult around so many people, especially with the princess involved. One wrong move and he’d have the whole of Hell raining down on him. He’d have to tread lightly, but that simply wasn’t his style. He much prefered to work out in the open where everyone could see him. Everything he came up with, however, only seemed to end badly in his favor.

It wasn’t until someone bumped into him that his thoughts were interrupted. The woman looked him up and down and glared up at him. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going? You males can be so careless.” He grumbled a few profanities and adjusted his suit as she stalked off, her nose turned up in the air like she was better than him. He was tempted to show her where she could stick her nose, but something caught his eye before he could make the decision.

A neon sign was blinking high over his head, the bright letters letting him know that he had somehow made his way all the way to the West side of the Pentagram. He stared up at the sign for a moment, the gears in head turning with gusto. A wicked smile spread across his face as he stepped toward the building the sign was attached to.

The woman sitting in the reception hall looked up from filling her nails as he stepped inside, immediately rolling her eyes at the sight of him. “We told you before. We don’t want your business here anymore.”

“Oh, come on, Harriet. You and I go way back. Just hear me out, won’t you?” he asked as he walked over to the desk, leaning his elbow on it in a flirtatious manner. She gave him a dull look in reply, clearly not willing to. He gave her a quick look over. “That’s a lovely blouse you’re wearing. Is it new?”

“This old thing?” Harriet looked down at her top. “Yeah, it is.” She smiled at him, confirming that he’d at least gotten her on the hook, now he just needed to reel her in.

“It suits you so well. I can’t remember the last time I saw a woman look so radiant,” he smirked. Her eyes fluttered as she turned her head to the side and giggled. He let out a sigh. “Well, I know when I’m not wanted. I won’t take up any more of your time.” He turned away but paused. “I’m glad I could see you one more time.”

Harriet bit her lip as she watched him go, calling out, “Wait!” when he reached the door.

His hand stopped on the handle, a smiling pulling briefly at his face before he wiped it off and turned back to her, looking a bit sad. He always knew how to work her down. “Yes?”

Harriet let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging a bit. “I’m not supposed to do this, especially after the last time, but I’ll overlook it because it’s you.”

He let his smile return. “I always knew I could count on you, Harriet.”

“But no money up front. You either deliver the product or you don’t get paid at all,” Harriet said matter of factly.

“Of course. I’ve learned my lesson,” he swore, taking off his hat and pressing it to his chest as he raised his free hand in the air.

“I’m not kidding. This is your last chance here, understand?” Harriet asked, crossing her arms. He nodded. “So what’s the name, Elias?”

His smile turned cruel and sadistic as he placed his hat back on his head. “Ottilie.”

#hazbin hotel #charlie #alastor #vaggie #angel dust #husk #baxter #mimzy #nifty #crymini #ottilie harriet bloom #original character #oc not mine

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