xcrust - Tumblr blog

xcrust · 3 months

Text

{His Regret}

Alastor X Reader

Important note!!

There is spoilers to the latest episode!!

also another note to have is that this is a little drabble with heavy angst. Like I may not be the best writer when it comes to emotions but trust on this.

This doesn't apply to my main story

at this point alastor just escaped adam so he doesn’t know that lucifer fought him.

Anyways To the Story!!

The rubble danced from the fight that was playing out. Well maybe it is more present tense. Hundreds dying for the sake of redemption? So beautiful but not if this is putting me back

“My power is fucking reduced to nothing, this just will not do”

The acrid stench of burning debris hangs thick in the air, assaulting the senses with a noxious cocktail of smoke, charred structures, and the metallic tang of spent ammunition. The once-vibrant cityscape now lies in ruins, the hotel reduced to skeletal frames adorned with tattered remnants of what were once homes and businesses.

Alastor strode through the corridors of his lair, What once was the powerhouse of his mayhem just dirt and disgust. A predatory smile that once adorned his face had transformed into a snarl of frustration.

His mind, a sanctuary of sadistic amusement, now simmered with a tempest of indignation. The audacity of this Adam, had struck a chord deep. If it weren't for this deal then he wouldnt of had to retreat from that poor excuse of a man. How could someone nearly unravel the intricacies of his power? It was an affront to his very essence, a challenge that gnawed at the edges of his sanity.

In his chamber, Alastor paced with a fevered intensity. His crimson eyes, usually filled with mirthful malice, now harbored a storm of malevolence. He replayed the confrontation in his mind, dissecting every move, every smirk, and every flicker of defiance that emanated from Adam.

"The nerve of that wretched creature," Alastor hissed to the shadows that clung to the corners of his lair.

His fingers drummed against the armrest of his grandiose throne, a rhythmic manifestation of the disarray within. The very thought of being challenged, of being outsmarted, clawed at the fragile veil of his composed madness.

The intruder slipped through the shattered remnants of buildings and overturned vehicles. The ground beneath their feet crunched softly with each step, the echoes a mere whisper against the eerie stillness of the war-torn ruins.

In an instant, Alastor closed the distance, pinning the intruder against the cold stone wall with a speed that defied the laws of the mundane. His hand wrapped around their throat, a deadly smile etched across his face.

He looked up and saw you. You, the one he's known the longest from the underground. The one he brought to become as powerful as you were. "Who would have thought it would come to this? Fate has a peculiar way of orchestrating its grand finale."

You, not only were the shackles that he was under but one that you held him in. He grew soft. Weak. You. Just an inconvenience. To get back his power. You needed to be gone.

The fear spread across your face met Alastor's gaze with a mix of confusion and dread. The demonic smile on the Radio Demon's face seemed to deepen as he traced a finger along the edge of your face.

"He almost had me," Alastor muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. The realization, the admission of vulnerability, hung heavily in the air. It was an unfamiliar sensation, an unwelcome intrusion into the sanctum of his pride.

A mirror stood nearby, a relic that once reflected the sheer delight he took in others' suffering. Now, he stared into it, searching for the elusive answers to his newfound discontent. The image that met his gaze was one of a demon on the brink, grappling with an unsettling truth—he was not invincible.

"Ah, the memories we've shared," Alastor continued, almost wistfully. "You, stumbling into my narrative like a lamb to the slaughter. Do you remember all the hell we raised together?"

As Alastor spoke, he seemed to drift into a reverie, his mind retracing the twisted paths of their interactions. The reader, still struggling against their restraints, watched with a sense of surreal horror as the demon reminisced about the moments leading to this ominous juncture.

Laughter started to echo the room. Grainy insane laughter. “Great Alastor died for his friends?” he choked out.

“Alastor? What are talking about” you try to push out. All you got was him glimpsing at you with pure disdain.

“I work best when unencumbered by the weight of sentimentality." Alastor's fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on the wall behind your neck, the subtle cadence underscoring his words.

"Baggage," he scoffed, the disdain evident in his voice.

In a moment the body of his oldest friend was on the floor.

"Do you not sense it, my dear reader? The freedom that comes with unburdened malevolence," he mused, circling you laid out on the ground.

"To be truly free, one must shed the baggage of morality, of attachments, of all that ties the soul to the mundane," Alastor whispered, his voice shaking with mania, a haunting melody that lingered in the air.

The laughter that usually echoed through the corridors was replaced by a guttural growl. Alastor's shoulders tensed as he unleashed a surge of dark energy, shattering nearby objects scattered across the room. Well at least the ones that still held up.

"Adam," he seethed, the name a curse on his lips. "You will regret toying with me."

Dark energy crackled around Alastor, a volatile aura that mirrored the storm within. His manic laughter echoed off the walls, bouncing like malevolent whispers in the confined space.

"I will not allow it!" Alastor roared, the once-charming smile contorting into a snarl of madness. "My power is mine alone to wield, to savor, and no interloper, no matter how curious or audacious, shall stand in the way!"

397 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

Now in Technicolor

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss x Reader Insert

“Tune in folks! demons and damned souls, welcome back to the sultry airwaves of Hell's very own station. I must say, dear listeners, Hell has a certain charm, doesn't it? A cacophony of screams, the crackle of flames, and the subtle whispers of secrets that linger in the shadows. It's a splendid orchestra of despair, and I am here to be your guide through the infernal playlist”

You expected the man to be insane but you didn't expect him to be so unshameful.

“So, grab a pitchfork, kick back, and let the music of the damned serenade your darkened souls! Now let's talk about my latest massacre-”

As of the moment you're not actually with him. Though him doing his broadcast that reigns in all of hell almost feels like he's still beside you all along. As your point of freedom away from your family you decided it was best to get to know hell from the very people that walked the streets.

Since he began taking you under his wing, you decided to stay with him till you find your place to settle down.

You were an early riser so the radio was not really a bother. The weird universal agreement to decide night and day here is such a fascination to you. Nevertheless being hell meant there was never a time without someone awake causing chaos. The game plan of working your way up the charts is what your dad always said while growing up, "Don't take shit from other demons”. Starting with that is to gain a more hopeful advantage in knowing the people.

“Watch this!” a really grimy voice screamed out. Looking that way you could see a few imps running around gathering people's attention.

One taller than the average imp stood with horns adorned in flickering embers, cackling with glee as he addressed his chaotic minions. "Listen up, you fiendish crap! I think it's time to start a new and take back what should be rightfully ours”

In the heart of pentagram city, the joy that you get from seeing the disaster is always so fulfilling. You may be new to these parts but boy does it give you a rush.

A sleek abyssal demon slinked through the crowd, leaving a trail of illusions in its wake. The demon could not only morph into various grotesque forms but the path that it was leaving behind was startling and amusing onlookers. As it danced between the dimensions of reality and illusion, confused demons stumbled into each other, inadvertently causing a chain reaction of minor skirmishes and squabbles. But what you didn't expect was for him to come up to you.

“They do this every week, by now it should get through their heads no one is going to listen” His voice was deep. It was such a buttery kind of smooth.

“I don't know there seems to be a crowd starting” with a smile you look up at him to see an amused look on his face.

The scene in front of you did intrigue you a lot. The bottom of the food chain in hell trying to make a voice for themselves. Their treatment is a peculiar mix of disdain and indifference. Larger demons may kick an imp out of the way without a second thought or summon them with a snap of their fingers for trivial purposes. Imps are often subjected to the capricious whims of their more powerful counterparts, enduring cruel pranks and occasional bouts of aggression.

Though you never thought that, though treated as the lowest rung of the demonic hierarchy, imps often find themselves at the mercy of their more powerful counterparts. They serve as the labor force, taking on a myriad of roles and responsibilities that range from menial tasks to dangerous assignments. Whether it's cleaning the twisted architecture of demonic structures or scurrying about as messengers delivering missives between the higher-ups, imps are ubiquitous fixtures in the daily hustle of Hell

“The pride ring is the top show in these parts and what do we get?! We get booted to the side and have to deal with the hypocrisy of these stupid standards!!” Those who spoke up before started chanting about rights for imps.

Certainly something that you would stand behind. Maybe it's a closed minded thought process but what was the point of souls from earth having more respect than the ones from here?

The heartbreaking sight was to see them run out. Demons of all kinds were starting to riot against them. In the face of adversity, the mischievous imps vowed to continue their antics, proving that even the smallest creatures could leave an indelible mark on the tumultuous canvas of Hell The Hellraisers disappear into the chaotic crowd, leaving a trail of bewildered demons and a street strewn with toppled stalls. with mayhem reigning supreme in the darkened streets.

“It's stupid and kinda sad to watch” The man stood beside you huffing out.

“Aren't you a hypocrite, you're an earthborn yourself aren't you?” the ego that these people have never stops amazing you everyday.

“Yeah… just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm set in stone as a bad person… Though looking at you, I'd guess you're like myself but you look almost a little too perfect for a human” crossing his arms he looked at you.

“That's because im-! You know who you are anyways dickbag” This guy was seriously putting you off. Comparing you to whatever those disappointments are.

“Pump the hate breaks… I'm Walter by the way.. Since you asked." The cadence of his voice was so politician based that it could lead you to go insane.

As the chaos unfolded around you, Walter's nonchalant demeanor seemed to contrast sharply with the tumultuous scene. The imps' attempts to rally for their rights had escalated into a full-blown street brawl, with demons of varying sizes and shapes joining the fray. The air resonated with shouts, roars, and the occasional yelp from an imp caught in the crossfire.

"Quite the spectacle they're putting on, isn't it?" Walter questions raising an eyebrow

You observed the chaos with a mix of fascination and concern. The imps were outnumbered and outmatched, yet their resilience and determination to stand up against the status quo intrigued you.

"Yeah, it is," you replied, eyes still fixed on the scene. "Seems like they're fed up with being pushed around."

Walter chuckled, a dry sound that echoed through the cacophony. "Oh, they've been trying to make a statement for ages. It's almost cute."

"Cute?" You shot him a disapproving look. "They're fighting for their rights. It's not cute; it's necessary."

Walter's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shrugged, unimpressed. "Necessary, maybe. But in Hell, it's a matter of survival. Those little imps are just making noise in a world that won't listen."

The riot continued to escalate, with fiery projectiles, illusions, and general pandemonium swirling around. Amidst the chaos, a trio of larger demons emerged, their expressions twisted into malicious grins.

"Looks like the big guns are stepping in. This is where it gets interesting." you said while stepping back to not get caught in the crossfire. Values and morals aside, sometimes seeing stuff play out is widely more interesting than anything else. Fuck you sounded sadistic.

The trio of demons seemed to relish the opportunity to quash the imp uprising. With a wave of their hands, they conjured dark energy, sending shockwaves through the crowd of imps. You could see the smaller demons being tossed aside like ragdolls, their attempts at resistance quickly crushed.

You felt a surge of empathy for the imps, caught in a cycle of oppression and rebellion. However, Walter's detached demeanor left you conflicted. Was he merely observing the chaos, or did he revel in the anarchy that unfolded before him?

Leaning into you his dark haze felt almost suffocating. "Well, darling, what do you think? Will the imps triumph or become another forgotten footnote in Hell's sordid history?"

The question lingered in the air, emphasizing the harsh reality of Hell's hierarchy. The imps' plight seemed both desperate and valiant, a stark reminder that even in Hell, some fought for a semblance of dignity and recognition.

“Whatever, if this is just a game to you, I hope your luck runs out” you remark before heading out of the city center. Being around him made you miss the annoying voice of alastor.

Walking away from him was the easiest thing that you could do. His attempt to engage you in conversation, using terms like "darling" with a sly smile, only added to your growing irritation. It felt like he was mocking not only the imps but also your own principles and values.

The crimson glow of dawn began to seep through the curtains of Alastor's luxurious suite of his radio booth, signaling the end of another night's radio broadcast. The room, adorned with vintage furnishings and an air of refined chaos, bore witness to the aftermath of Alastor's nocturnal endeavors.

reclined in an opulent armchair, a contented smirk playing on his lips. The room still echoed with the faint whispers of his charismatic voice, which had reached every corner of Hell during the broadcast. The radio equipment, adorned with dials and adorned in a distinct retro aesthetic, hummed softly, now temporarily dormant.

Alastor found his thoughts occasionally drifting to the enigmatic (Y/n). a peculiar newcomer to Hell or at least to what he thinks. had managed to capture the attention of the radio demon in a way that he couldn't quite dismiss. The glimmers of defiance in (Y/n)'s gaze during their encounters had not gone unnoticed. Alastor, who revealed in the unexpected and the unconventional, found a peculiar satisfaction in the mystery that surrounded them. In Hell, where familiarity often bred contempt, the unknown was a rare and exhilarating novelty.

As the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, Alastor's posture shifted. He rose from the chair, his movements graceful and deliberate. Despite the seemingly chaotic nature of his radio persona, there was an undeniable elegance to his every action.

Alastor pondered the significance of this newcomer's journey through the infernal landscape. Why could he feel such raw power? Though why is it that he is reminded of himself when thinking about them.

Walking over to a nearby table, Alastor poured himself a cup of tea. The delicate porcelain clinked softly against the saucer as he sipped the hot beverage. The tranquility of the moment contrasted with the lively chaos he had orchestrated just hours ago.

Thinking back to last night, With a casual flick of his wrist, when he summoned ethereal tendrils that danced like shadows in the night. These spectral appendages slithered through the air, reaching out to the trembling souls and ensnaring them in a web of malevolent energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under his influence, distorting the surroundings into a nightmarish landscape.

Alastor's mind, ever calculating, reflected on the success of the night's broadcast. The intertwining melodies of jazz and hellish commentary had woven a tapestry of entertainment, capturing the attention of listeners from the lowliest imps to the loftiest demons. The echoes of laughter and applause lingered in his mind like a symphony of souls.

As the jazz tunes from a nearby record player filled the air, Alastor reclined in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. The prospect of weaving the reader into the ongoing narrative of Hell sparked a mischievous glint in his eyes. (Y/n), in their apparent defiance of the expected norms, had become a wild card in the devil's deck of amusement.

Getting up to Leisurely strolling through the lavish suite, Alastor glanced at a vintage record player. He selected a vinyl record, the soothing crackle of the needle finding its groove as the melodic tunes of an old jazz number filled the room. The music, a stark departure from the energetic chaos of his radio show, created an ambiance of refined tranquility.

From below his window he sees these peculiar picture shows from down below.

"My, my, attempting to disturb the delicate balance of my little corner of Hell? How utterly quaint.”

“Hey! I'm back! Damn, is it a lively scene out there,” you call out as you stride into your shared living space.

Alastor, reclining on a vintage armchair, smirks in response. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), chaos is the very essence of this delightful realm. One must learn to appreciate the symphony of suffering that plays around us."

"Yeah, well, it's just something that I'll make work in my hand,” you reply, taking a moment to glance around the eclectic decor of your hellish abode.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor stands up abruptly. "I know you just got back, but we are going out!" His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can tell he has something interesting in mind.

“Wait, I think I had my share—” you try to speak out before being abruptly grabbed by the arm.

“Come on, my dear!” In a flash, you find yourself whisked out of the apartment, leaving behind the familiar surroundings for whatever adventure Alastor has in store.

"Alastor, where are we even going?" you asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. His usual grin widened, revealing a hint of mischief.

"Patience, my dear (Y/n). I have something intriguing to show you," Alastor replied, his voice carrying an air of secrecy.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "I thought it would be delightful to pay a visit to our esteemed TV demon. After all, shouldn't we take a look at all kinds of media?"

Before you could voice your reservations, Alastor pushed open the doors of the Vox Network headquarters, leading you into the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels stood guard, and Vox's voice echoed through the room.

"Ah, Alastor! A pleasure to have you in the building! , What a delightful surprise," a booming voice echoed from the center of the room. Vox, the flamboyant TV demon, materialized in a cloud of static. His slick, metallic appearance glowed in an array of colors, and his screen-like face displayed a perpetually changing expression. his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Vox extended a hand towards Alastor. the radio demon simply walked past to which earned a small glitch seen at the corner of his screen.

“Seems you've brought a pet?” The fact that no one knew who you were was starting to get on your nerves. Calling you a pet? Well that's something that will make you riot.

In the face of Vox's condescending remark, you felt a spark of irritation flicker within you. Alastor's dismissal of the TV demon's extended hand had left a peculiar glitch on Vox's screen, a subtle indication that the flamboyant host wasn't accustomed to being ignored.

"No one's anyone's pet," you retorted, asserting yourself in the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels glanced in your direction, their mechanical eyes narrowing as if registering an unexpected anomaly.

Vox's screen shifted to an intrigued expression, the colors dancing in an erratic display. "Ah, a voice from the shadows! I must confess, I wasn't aware we had a new player in this delightful game."

Alastor, leaning against a holographic display, observed the unfolding interaction with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "She's no pet, Vox. Just someone with a taste for chaos and curiosity about your little empire."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the sleek surroundings. "Chaos and curiosity, my favorite combination! How intriguing! So, (Y/n), what brings you into our glamorous world today?"

You crossed your arms, a defiant gleam in your eyes. "I'm not here to be entertained or become anyone's spectacle if thats what youre thinking.”

Alastor stepped in “We just thought we'd see what all the fuss is about."

Vox's screen displayed a mix of amusement and curiosity. "A renegade spirit, I like it! But you're in the presence of yours truly and We don't do small things here. Let's skip the foreplay and get into it. How about a little deal? I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

You eyed Vox skeptically, wary of the gleam in his screen. Alastor, seemingly unfazed, glanced at you with a sly grin. "Go on, (Y/n), entertain his offer. He has no power or specialty. We might find something amusing in his little game."

“Ok first fuck you alastor and no way in the seven rings would I join you I wouldnt join anyone” The prospect of dealing with Vox made your skin crawl, but the allure of navigating Hell's media empire intrigued you.

Vox's screen flickered with a mix of surprise and subtle annoyance as you firmly rejected his proposition. The colors on his metallic visage swirled in a display of shifting hues, mirroring the complex emotions running through the TV demon's circuits.

"Well, well, aren't you a feisty one, Are you sure about not joining anyone? You seem like a loyal dog to that freak" Vox mused

Your resolve remains unshaken, and you meet Vox's screen with a defiant gaze. "I don't need your offers, Vox. I'll find my own way through Hell's chaos."

Vox's laughter echoed through the opulent reception area, a mix of genuine amusement and an underlying sense of challenge. "Very well, (Y/n). Should you change your mind or seek a taste of the limelight, you know where to find me.”

What a bitch… At this point you were at your limit so you walked out to the side of the room to not entertain this conversation. The fucking nerve of these people. Even Alastor was being a little bit of a shit at the moment.

“There's a certain allure to the unknown, wouldn't you say?" Vox pondered aloud, his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Alastor, still leaning against the holographic display, turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, my dear.”

Alastor's antlers grew as he stood before Vox, his crimson eyes piercing

"Ah, Vox, my dear fellow," Alastor began, his voice carrying a melodic tone laced with a subtle threat. "I hope you enjoyed the rejection dance my little friend here performed. Now, let's get one thing clear – I don't dance to anyone's tune, especially not yours. You might be the new shiny toy right now but people always come back to the original"

Vox's screen glitched momentarily, revealing a flicker of irritation.

"What's the meaning of this, Alastor?" Vox demanded, his voice losing some of its usual charisma and taking on a sharper edge. "You come here and start bitching at me about not joining me?! We've already established that”

“You underestimate the consequences of refusing me, Alastor," Vox hissed, his voice losing its previous charm entirely. "This will be my realm to control, and those who reject my advances often find themselves in a far less favorable position."

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing in the extravagant reception area. "Consequences, Vox? I've faced worse in my time. Your attempts to control the narrative may work on the masses, but not on someone who knows the art of chaos."

As Alastor turned to leave, Vox seethed with frustration. The TV demon couldn't fathom being denied, and Alastor's rejection left a lingering tension in the air. Vox's screen displayed an animated storm of chaotic colors.

A surge of annoyance swept over you. Alastor's encouragement of Vox and his apparent amusement at the situation grated on the reader's nerves. The reader couldn't fathom why he enabled the TV demon's actions especially considering the TV demon's manipulative and self-serving nature. To make matters worse it really felt like he was making fun of you.

“Fuck off Alastor”

"(Y/n), this is Hell, and power here is earned through deals and influence. If you want to make your mark, you have to start making deals," Alastor advised in a tone that was both casual and instructional. His words resonated with a hint of amusement, as if he relished the idea of the reader navigating the treacherous landscape of Hell.

“I'm not some social experiment, why are you still here?” however, was taken aback by Alastor's nonchalant attitude toward the situation. The idea of making deals in exchange for souls seemed like a slippery slope, and the reader wasn't sure if they were ready to embrace such a cutthroat approach

“Embrace it, and you'll see just how intoxicating the taste of power can be." he replied

If they were to survive and thrive in Hell, understanding the art of making deals was a necessary skill. With a determined nod, they acknowledged Alastor's guidance.

"Alright, Alastor. Teach me the ropes. I might as well learn how to play this game if I'm going to survive in Hell," the reader conceded, a resolute glint in their eyes.

“Im staying with you, but if you even think about being an ass while other people are around you're going to be counting your last minutes”

“Doll, if you can barely stand up for yourself, I don't think I have anything to worry about,” he laughed out.

He's seriously pushing your buttons right now.

“As an overlord, you have dominion over a specific territory or domain within Hell. This grants you considerable authority and control over the demons and souls, you want that right? Power?” he asked.

All of a sudden you heard a loud bash of commotion coming from a group of demons that appeared to be fighting.

Pushing through the crowd, they discovered a group of demons surrounding none other than Walter.

One of the larger demons, a hulking figure with horns resembling twisted spires, look with disdain. "This fool thinks he can waltz into our territory and act like he owns the place."

Walter, bloodied but defiant, attempted to maintain his composure. "Now, now, gentlemen, there's no need for such hostility. Let's talk this out civilly."

The demons surrounding Walter scoffed at his attempts at diplomacy, clearly unimpressed. The reader couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance at Walter's earlier arrogance.

"Perhaps, my dear (Y/n), we should let this play out. It's always entertaining to witness the ebb and flow of power dynamics in Hell," Alastor mused, his eyes glinting with a sinister delight.

"Come on! Do something about this!!, you can't just stand there and watch!" Walter's voice cracked with a mixture of pain and panic as he pleaded for help.

"My, my, Walter, seems like you've landed yourself in quite a bind. Who would have thought our charismatic friend would face such a predicament?" you said out loud

“please! I'm not cut out for this kind of roughing up!" Walter's words were desperate, his eyes pleading for intervention. The demons surrounding him laughed, reveling in his vulnerability

“Oh please you were such a bigshot earlier, get yourself out of this mess”

ignoring the demons' taunts, you whispered out a proposal which the smoked and leaned in closer to Walter and whispered the terms of the deal. The specifics echoed in the demonic air, forming an unspoken pact that hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"Deal," Walter agreed, relief washing over him as the terms were settled. The demons, though momentarily confused, soon found themselves turned to dust.

Alastor observed the scene with a raised brow, intrigued by the sudden turn of events. The reader's willingness to strike a deal for Walter's soul added a new layer of complexity

Looking back up to him and smiled, “is this what you wanted?”

As Alastor continued to observe the chaotic scene unfolding before him, a smirk played on his lips. The demons surrounding Walter, still reveling in the prospect of his impending downfall, were oblivious to the subtle yet profound shift in the power dynamics.

"Well, well, it seems you've decided to make a deal. How delightful!" Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The atmosphere shifted, charged with an unspoken agreement between you and Walter.

“Now, now, gentlemen, let's not keep our eager audience waiting. After all, this is shaping up to be quite the dramatic performance,” Alastor commented looking at the rest of the demons that just fell dead, staring at the corpses with a dark amusement lacing his words. He leaned casually against a nearby demonic structure, his radio-like grin widening.

544 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

Paint the Town Red

Full chapter!!!

Reader insert x Hazbin hotel and helluva boss universe

There is a chapter after this that is already published on my quotev

Comment if you want to be added to a tag list!!

FULL STORY

As the two of you continued down the bustling streets of Hell, Alastor's arm linked with yours, you couldn't shake off the sense of unease that lingered beneath the surface. The encounter with the stray demons had left you questioning the dynamics of power and respect in this infenal realm.

The air was thick with a cacophony of demonic chatter and the occasional shrieks of torment. Despite the chaos surrounding you, Alastor seemed unfazed, maintaining his composure and that eerie, ever-present smile. The contrast between his carefree demeanor and the volatile nature of Hell left you feeling like a pawn in a game you couldn't fully comprehend.

As you both entered a quaint little cafe, the atmosphere shifted. The aroma of sulfur mixed with the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee. The dimly lit establishment provided a brief respite from the glaring scrutiny of the outside world.

Seated across from each other at a small table, you couldn't help but ponder the peculiar situation. Here you were, a member of Hell's aristocracy, sharing a moment with a notorious demon who seemed more interested in your entertainment value than your status. The clinking of cups and the hushed conversations of nearby patrons created a strange backdrop to the unfolding enigma.

Alastor, his unsettling eyes fixated on you, leaned back in his chair with an air of nonchalance. "My dear, have you ever considered the power dynamics at play in this chaotic realm? The hierarchy of Hell is not just determined by bloodlines and titles; it's a delicate dance of influence and charisma."

His words echoed in your mind as you tried to decipher his true intentions. Was he grooming you to navigate the treacherous waters of Hell, or was this merely a game to satisfy his own amusement? The lavish clothes, the newfound attention – it all felt like pieces of a puzzle you were still struggling to assemble.

The cafe's ambiance became a backdrop for an unspoken exchange, a subtle negotiation of intentions and expectations. As Alastor continued to speak, his voice taking on that distinctive, old-timey radio charm, you found yourself drawn into his web of words.

"Life in Hell is a grand performance, my dear. And you, with your unique set of skills and that fiery spirit, are poised to become the star of this infernal stage. Embrace the chaos, for it is in the unexpected that true power lies."

With every word, Alastor seemed to weave a narrative, blurring the lines between mentorship and manipulation. The cafe, once a haven from the outside world, became a stage for a complex dance of agendas and hidden motives.

As you sipped your coffee, the bitter warmth resonating with the complexities of your newfound existence, you couldn't help but wonder if this alliance with the enigmatic Radio Demon would lead to salvation or damnation in the twisted tapestry of Hell.

“So my dearest! I want to know everything about you and what makes you tick” Closing your new pocket mirror you glance at him before going to pick at your clothes, the bunny painted in red stares at you with a charming look in his eye.

“Alastor, you're going all out for a person like me. But what is it that you want.” curiosity might have killed the cat but in hell its survival of the fittest. Between you and him, that's an easy feat for you but survival in getting higher in the food chain? Well that's some grounds you need to work on.

“ Heavens me, or should I say hells me? HA can't a guy get to know another fella?” His burgundy pinstripe suit made your weakness to elegant things. In your heart you are truly someone that cannot be so easily deterred by another. If leaving the Morningstar household didnt prove it. Maybe working on social skills might be the first thing to work on.

“Who are you kidding? What?! Did you want to talk to my dad? Sorry to best your bubble but i'm making a nam-”

“Hush now” he quipped in “now what are you assuming on today” taking out a pocket watch from his top pocket. The ticking being comically loud. Being in hell should have you used to an odd face every once in a while. But looking at him felt like a lost cartoon. “As i've said before, i know nothing about you. You've just got a nifty little… look to you” There goes his smile again. It's so shameless.

“Yeah right” Being hell royalty should've put your name towards everyone that walks this street.

“Sorry doll face, having such a smooth face in this area of town might just be the most interesting piece of plot in these parts” you let out a sudden hitch in your breath. Does he actually not know anything about you? Maybe the overlord title might be a lot harder than intended. “Now doll you're never fully dressed without a smile, now play nice” The grimace on your face might’ve just drowned in your thoughts hearing him say that.

You couldn't make sense of his statement. An earthborn being known to you and probably the purest kind of entertainment in hell. Though if he didn't even know who you were then maybe this could be a better opportunity in the end. No phony respect. Something that would actually make a difference to yourself. Smoothing your expression into soft passiveness.

“Say there, bunny tail, how about you and I take a stroll down the boulevard and paint the town red”

“Aren't you a tough nut to crack? Well who am I to deny a bona fide high roller”

"You said WHAT?" Lucifer's voice echoed through the grand halls of the Morningstar household, a thunderous roar that reverberated with the weight of authority. The King of Hell had just stumbled upon a revelation, and the discontent in his tone was palpable.

In the dimly lit room, a dispute between the Morningstar couple unfolded like a tempest. Lilith, the Queen of Hell, maintained a composed demeanor despite the storm brewing within. Her response, a weary sigh, carried the weight of a thousand battles fought and won.

"Honey, you of all people should know I care for them more than anything," Lilith murmured, her words an attempt to soothe the rising tension. (Y/n) and Charlie, their two progenies, were her greatest achievements, the culmination of a love that had withstood the eons of Hell's existence.

The walls seemed to absorb the intensity of the argument as Lucifer mocked his wife's claim, a derisive edge to his voice. "I would believe that if you didn’t say, 'we don’t want you here,'" he sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Outside the room, in the echoing hall, Charlie found herself caught in the maelstrom of her parents' discord. Her father's outburst struck her with an unusual force, for such vehemence was a rare occurrence in the Morningstar household. Her mother's apparent absent-mindedness towaed their youngest sibling, (Y/n), added complexity to the unfolding drama.

The parental strategy, harshness as a means of fostering strength, came to light in Lucifer's words. Hell was chaotic, but even in disorder, responsibilities lingered. Unfortunately, (Y/n) seemed to be the collateral damage in a plan designed to mold them into a resilient force.

“We are supposed to be tough, not assholes to them,” Lucifer's stern voice continued, challenging Lilith's methods.

“I know, I know… I might’ve been a little too harsh—” Lilith attempted to explain, but her words were cut short by Lucifer's interjection.

“A little?” he scoffed, emphasizing the inadequacy of her acknowledgment.

"But it was for their own benefit. Think strategically here. Our (Y/n) is an enigma. We know they’re strong, but being cooped up here would make them exactly like the rest of Hell's noble trash," Lilith concluded, her words carrying a hint of an unspoken plan. As she finished, she reached out, grabbing her husband's hand, a subtle gesture of unity despite their conflicting methods.

However, hidden beneath the surface, Lilith's intentions remained a mystery, a narrative that would unfold with time. The Morningstar family dynamics were far from conventional, and the fate of the forgotten child, (Y/n), seemed to be a puzzle piece that could alter the very fabric of Hell's existence.

“I hope you’re thinking rationally. If anything happens, we are pulling them out immediately,” Lucifer's stern warning hung in the air, the gravity of the situation reflected in his authoritative tone.

In the hallway, Charlie stood, tears welling up in her eyes. The concern expressed by her parents struck a chord in her heart, even as (Y/n)'s departure unfolded in a way that left a bitter taste in familial bonds. The Morningstar family, with its peculiar powers and mysteries, stood at the center of a tumultuous storm that could reshape the very foundations of Hell.

Stepping out of the cannibal colony, the stench of decay still lingered in the air, a grim reminder of the grotesque spectacle you had witnessed. The sight of demons feasting on each other was a nauseating experience, a repulsive dance of savagery that left an indelible mark on your psyche.

The transition from the macabre scene to the open streets felt surreal, as if you had crossed a threshold into a dimension where the boundaries between horror and reality blurred. Earthborn citizens moved about unashamedly, engaged in their daily routines in the twisted, chaotic tapestry that was Hell.

The urge to run away clawed at the edges of your consciousness. The grotesque scenes behind you urged a desperate need for escape. Yet, with every step you took, the reality of your surroundings pressed upon you. The chances to flee presented themselves like fleeting shadows, each second offering an opportunity to vanish into the abyss.

Beside you, the deer-like creature, the infamous Radio Demon, remained an enigma. His motives and intentions shrouded in mystery, he had neither encourage nor discourage your departure. His silence on the matter only added to the ambiguity of your predicament.

You shook your head in an attempt to dispel the mounting exasperation. Running away from the Radio Demon seemed like a rational choice, yet a voice within you questioned the feasibility of such an escape. What reason did you truly have to flee? Was it the instinctive fear of the infamous reputation he carried or an unspoken acknowledgment of the power he wielded?

The man beside you, though hardly recognizable as a man in the conventional sense, bore the weight of a fearsome reputation. Known for materializing out of thin air and instigating terror, his presence in Hell was synonymous with chaos. The stories of his sweeping massacres, leaving thousands in his wake, painted a portrait of a formidable and unpredictable force.

A curious creature indeed, one that you instinctively knew not to provoke. Falling on his bad side seemed like a dire prospect, a potential journey into the depths of torment. As the unsettling reality of your surroundings sank in, you grappled with the dichotomy of wanting to escape the horrors and the inexplicable allure that held you tethered to the enigmatic Radio Demon.

"What is this? Did Betty Boop get lost?" The cutting remark pierced through the air, drawing your attention to a feline-like demon gracefully approaching. The streets were alive with the unsettling sounds of demonic chatter, and a few other creatures sauntered past, their cackles echoing in the oppressive atmosphere.

The cat-figure's comment seemed to reduce the intricate elegance of your 1930s-era attire to a mere caricature of Betty Boop's iconic style. Yet, you resisted the urge to take offense. The choice of clothing was a deliberate nod to a bygone era, a personal expression of style that transcended the realm of mere imitation. You took a moment to glance down at your ensemble, contemplating if it truly warranted such commentary.

Never having ventured beyond the confines of the castle, criticism had been a foreign concept to you. The unforgiving eyes of Hell, however, presented a stark contrast to the insulated world you once knew. It made you ponder the subjective nature of style, an aspect you had never considered amidst the relentless demands of royal life.

"Aw, did we hit a nerve on you? Poor baby is going to cry?" jeered one of the random lackeys, the disdain dripping from their words like venom. The barbed remarks began to irk you, a gnawing discomfort that intensified with each passing moment. The first day outside the castle walls had transformed into a baptism by fire, with seemingly everyone taking a jab at your newfound vulnerability.

Turning your gaze toward Alastor, you found him unaffected, his closed-eyed smile unwavering. It begged the question – was he accustomed to the relentless scrutiny of the town's residents, or did he command a level of respect that rendered such provocations inconsequential? The enigmatic Radio Demon continued his unhurried stroll, seemingly unperturbed by the tumultuous scene.

As you grappled with these thoughts, a realization struck. You, who knew so much about Alastor, had never considered the potential consequences of his infamous reputation. Was he, too, a target in this volatile ecosystem? His status as a living, breathing murder machine, notorious for sweeping through Hell with deadly efficiency, raised an intriguing paradox. Why hadn't opportunistic demons exploited their knowledge of him for personal gain? The absence of information about Alastor seemed to deepen the mystery surrounding him.

Amidst your musings, the main demon from before voiced her frustration with a profanity-laced declaration. Clearly annoyed by the lack of attention she was receiving, she sought to reclaim the spotlight. The ever-growing chorus of chaos in Hell continued, an intricate symphony of malevolence that now included the relentless pursuit of the "pussy posse."

Turning on your heels, you were met with a chilling sight: the main demon from the group had conjured an ominous orb in her hand, a harbinger of chaos ready to be unleashed upon you. A quick glance toward the unflappable Radio Demon revealed that he remained nonchalant, seemingly indifferent to the impending threat.

Deciding that enough was enough, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The orb surged forward, gaining momentum, but in a split second, your eyes transformed into a radiant set of glowing velvet. The ethereal light intercepted the orb's trajectory, halting it in its tracks and dissolving it into nothingness between you and the aggressive demon.

"Looks like someone grew a pair of balls! Ha, maybe avoiding is what makes you special," she spat, her disdain evident. The audacity of her arrogance irked you. In Hell, such egotism was commonplace, but her unwarranted aggression struck a nerve. People like her, quick to provoke and revel in chaos, were the very reason you couldn't tolerate the denizens of this infernal realm. It was your first encounter with the lower class, and it was proving to be an eye-opening initiation.

"Lose your self-loathing and get over yourself," you retorted with a dismissive glance. The three demons across from you seemed taken aback, confusion etched on their faces. But you weren't about to let their insolence slide.

Holding the leader of the trio to the forefront, you locked eyes with her, delivering a cutting blow. "If you peaked in high school, you don't have to spread the word. We could smell how used you are from across the seven rings." The smugness on her face dissolved into instant rage, perhaps a taste of the humility she sorely needed.

She growled in frustration, and in a mockingly theatrical gesture, you magically sealed her mouth shut before continuing your lecture. "Such a potty mouth for a stray kitten. I'm sure hitting your nerves might be something I'm inclined to do to teach you some etiquette." The trio, now writhing in pain, lay on the ground, a consequence of your control over their nerve endings.

As you reflected on the situation, you questioned whether you were becoming a hypocrite, engaging in the very provocations you despised. Yet, in your defense, you weren't instigating fights; you were merely responding to the blatant disrespect thrown your way.

Alastor's voice, resonant and amused, chimed in from behind you, breaking the tension. In seconds, you released the trio, and they scattered like frightened mice. Attempting to explain yourself, you found it challenging, realizing a pattern emerging whenever you tapped into your newfound powers – a humbling force that seemed to be shaping your experience in Hell.

"I swear I'm not usually like this," you stammered, hating the fact that Alastor's towering figure loomed over you. The peculiar genetics that rendered everyone seemingly gigantic in comparison was a constant source of annoyance.

"On the contrary! This little spunk of yours makes you more of a dime," Alastor laughed, the eerie sound echoing through the chaotic streets. "Though we might have to work on your little temper." Taking your arm in his, he continued, "I crave the shiniest bits of entertainment down in this world, and you are giving me exactly that!"

Raising a skeptical brow, you couldn't help but question the concept of being entertainment in a realm as twisted as Hell. "I better not be some joke to you," you asserted, your body enveloped in a glowing haze in seconds.

"Oh, my dear, far from it! I am more enamored by your..." Alastor paused for effect, "charisma! Such a thing is simply irresistible to simply pass up." The compliment, unexpected from the notorious Radio Demon, left you questioning his motives. Was he to be an ally, or was this just the beginning of a more complex entanglement in the web of Hell's politics?

397 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

2 new chapters within the last few days? that’s crazy!

a few notes i must put down. This walter character is just one i made up. very much not important to the function of it all. I’m such a lover for writing but haven’t written in a while so please forgive me 🫡

0 notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

WHAT I PUBLISHED A NEW CHAPTER?!?!

Link to full story right here!!

(i’ll publish the chapter here soon but can’t blame a girl for promoting her quotev)

Somewhere Down there

50 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

Paint the Town Red [PREVIEW]

I seriously haven't written due to having an education but for my story i want to give you improvement and quality content. So I am not making you all wait too long here is a preview of the next chapter. If there is anything that you feel is needed and note you would want to offer then i would love for you to throw it my way

FULL STORY HERE

All the latest chapters and previous is at that link!!!

Looking between the mirror in front of you, reflecting In the soft glow of dawn's embrace, (Y/n) stood before the ornate mirror that adorned her room. The morning sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a warm radiance upon them as they examined her reflection. It wasn't the typical admiration one might associate with vanity; rather, it was an introspective gaze that transcended the surface.

As they lifted a lock of hair, the sunlight or rather the glimmer caught the subtle highlights, reminiscent of the glimmers of hope that had guided them through the darkest nights. The relationship between their parents isn't inherently bad. But the isolating feeling never evolved or made anything better. This dark world was something that was all you knew. Inherently when it came to your view of humans it had to be a little different from your older sister. All humans are made corrupt. No matter the family a person is raised from. Though what allows hell borns to be condemned to whatever flock shows up. It is a harsh ideal but with so much bad coming from earth then how could someone even have a belief that earth is all that good when it's corrupting the supposed bad.

Nevertheless the people that showed up from earth kept the seven rings entertained the more time went on. In fact if it weren't for earth then you wouldn't be in the situation that you are now. You couldn't remember the last time you had dinner with your parents, Family dinners hadn't been a thing in a long time. So sitting across a little table of a cafe with the infamous radio demon for dinner is the last thing that would have been imagined in your life.

“Who are you kidding? What?! Did you want to talk to my dad? Sorry to best your bubble but i'm making a nam-”

“Hush now” he quipped in “now what are you assuming on today” taking out a pocket watch from his top pocket. The ticking being comically loud. Being in hell should have you used to an odd face every once in a while. But looking at him felt like a lost cartoon. “As ive said before, i know nothing about you. You've just got a nifty little… look to you” There goes his smile again. It's so shameless.

“Yeah right” Being hell royalty should've put your name towards everyone that walks this street.

You couldn't make sense of his statement. An earthborn being known to you and probably the purest kind of entertainment in hell. Though if he didnt even know who you were then maybe this could be a better opportunity in the end. No phony respect. Something that would actually make a difference to yourself. Smoothing your expression into soft passiveness.

“Say there, bunny tail, how about you and I take a stroll down the boulevard and paint the town red”

“Aren't you a tough nut to crack? Well who am I to deny a bona fide high roller”

347 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

The way i’m going to go crazy with all the plot of hazbin hotel being different from what vizziepop said in livestreams :,). For the future of my fic pretend the last names and everything makes sense. (i’ll go back to work on it at some point but for now let’s leave it)

89 notes · View notes

xcrust · 3 months

Text

Connor Becomes Single

“Why won’t you just listen, dammit!” You yell, slamming your hands rather lightly on the table for a very anger person, the table shaking to a minimum.

Connor slowly looks down at the table before looking up at you, LED swirling for what he thinks is an appropriate response, but with an anger lover about to hit an explosion, is there really an appropriate answer?

“I have been attentive this entire time.” Connor defends himself, confused by your anger. “Since you arrived at 9:57 pm tonight I have been patiently listening to your…” He hesitates for a correct adjective, not wanting to upset you further. “…concerns. But I do not know how to accommodate.”

You frown more, pinching the area to some how relieve the frustration of dealing with such a dense android.

“That’s what’s wrong, Connor.” You say in exasperation. “Always talking as if I’m a damn patient or victim and not the person you’re in a relationship with!”

Connor’s LED whirled as he stares at you in silence. While he is perfectly content with it, he sees the uncomfortableness on your face and tilts his head, seeing you seek an answer.

“You’re dating a deviant android that’s sole purpose was to hunt deviant androids, what do you expect?” He snaps at you, flexing his fingers in the way to provoke you. “I’m not human, I will never be human.”

You laugh humorlessly, an obvious sarcastic gesture as you through your hands up. “All I want is for you to be more affectionate with me. Kiss me, hug me, tell me I look nice!” You list of examples, using your fingers in the motion. “I love you so much and treat you as such, and you seem to cringe at even greeting me in the morning.”

“Well you do have pretty bad morning breath.” He tries joke but seeing your deadpan expression has him clearing his voice, the little hint of a smile to break the ice long gone. “I will try to accommodate.”

“There it is again!” You through your hands up again, letting out a frustrating groan. “How many times have we had this argument and at the end of it you always say the same thing, ‘I’ll try to accommodate’.” You try to mimic his robotic voice, but it still doesn’t sound right, it has Connor’s mouth switching to a smile.

You walk slowly to him, shyly sitting on his lap while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Connor doesn’t respond to it, if anything he seems to flinch at your touch. You sigh sadly, sliding to sit beside him instead. “I.. I just don’t want this relationship to seem so one sided, you know?” You say quietly, letting some of the hurt he has unknowingly caused you. “I have a question.” You say seriously.

“And I have an answer.” Connor replies. You thought it was a joke at first, but with his stoic face, you knew he’s serious, too serious.

“When we met at my cute little job at the time, you were so cold, and then we talked and you slowly became my friend, we began to hang out outside of work..” You trailed off, fondly smiling at the memories of you both before, so happy, and free, even without him deviating yet. “I developed feelings for you, I asked you on a date, then more, then asked you to be my boyfriend, you said yes, we were so, so, so happy…” You trail off again, the smile losing its life as you thought about how life seems to turn downhill after he deviating, treating you like a well known acquaintance, more than his lover.

“I don’t understand what this has to do with your question?” Connor asks confused. He turns more to you, concern in his eyes. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lay down? You’re blood pressure was risen due to anger but drastically collapsed in just 1.2 minutes.” He says mechanically, but the concern is there, and that’s what melts your heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask breathlessly, scared but desperately craving his answer.

Connor’s LED whirls from yellow to red, harder than you ever heard it before, you swear you could actually hear.. loud fans coming from inside of him. The thought actually made your eyebrows raise. Connor’s observant eyes took that as you wanting an answer quickly.

“I… care for you a lot.” He says carefully, typing the words in his Microsoft document before he utters them aloud. “But.. not in the way you care for me.” He says quietly, fiddling with the quarter he pulled from his pocket.

You have already deflated since he first starting to talk, the sadness spreading like an disease. “Oh…” You say quietly, however with the readers threatening to attack your tear ducts, it comes out a little hoarse. “Why’d you say yes then?”

Connor flips the coin nervously in his hand, his LED flickering blue as he processes your question, knowing exactly what you’re asking about. Questioning why he would agree to dating you if he did not feel the same.

“To be entirely honest, I thought you were offering me official friendship.” Connor says guiltily. “After observing the romantic actions you wanted to partake in, I came to the conclusion you wanted a romantic relationship, not a friendship.” Connor says sheepishly. “I miscalculated when you said 'boyfriend’ and instead assumed 'boy friend’.” He paused between the 'boy’ and 'friend’ for clarification.

“Why-” You have to stop yourself as you feel yourself getting choked with tears, grabbing at your head at maddening frustration. “Why didn’t you just tell me instead of leading me on and- and-” You have to stop yourself as tears finally won there long battle, and slide down your cheeks in fat rolls of salty water.

Connor lowers his head in shame, hesitating if he should console you, but from the recent news, he decided his probability of success is lower than 13%, not good.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He says softly putting his coin down and instead slowly inching towards you. “I enjoy your company, your interests, I enjoy.. you. Just not romantically.”

You laugh through your tears, but it’s pained, choking harshly as you can’t even properly breathe in oxygen. “So you just like me as a friend.” You say, summing up his response, he nods stiffly.

“Are you alright?” Connor stupidly says, while concerned for your wellbeing as he frowns more, seeing he has to elaborate. “Please calm down, your blood pressure and stress levels for exceeded the normal level within humans and is dangerously entering a stage in which you will pass out. Breathe.”

“Oh I’m sorry!” You yell out, tears falling harder, but you do what he says to try to regulate your breathing. “The Android I’ve been dating for two years, have openly stated I loved, just told me that the entire time he’s never loved me, and never wanted to be in a relationship with me in the first place- SO I’M NOT FEELING SO HOT!” You scream out, your anger hitting a peak you’ve never experienced before as you collapse harder into the couch. The emotional rollercoaster you’re going through right now is effectively draining you.

Connor warily stares down at you, frantically searching on what to do in a situation like this, but yet all the searches end up with no results.

“I… I could learn to love you?” Connor says softly, not wanting to harm you more than he already has. Well, despite him not even trying to hurt you in the first place.

You laugh more, before it slowly turn into sobs as you clutch yourself, wanting no more than to go lie in a ditch to hide away from so much sadness and embarrassment.

“It’s been two year..” You say numbly, the tears silently falling down your face, staring at your hands, you couldn’t look at him even if you wanted to. “If you haven’t loved me yet, you never will.”

Connor frowns, he only wants to fix the situation but he only seems to make it worst. It makes his LED go haywire, from yellow, to red, to yellow again. And it’s all from you.

“I care for you.” Connor says seriously. “I do, I really do.” He says firmly, hesitating, but slowly getting to caress your hands. “Just not the way I should be as a boyfriend.” He says softly, barely even registering in your ears. He gently strokes your skin, so soft he felt.

He’s done this action before to try to get you to calm down. It always seemed to work but now, knowing what you know, it only makes your sadness and anger grow. Like he was boiling hot water, you quickly snatch your hands from him, deciding to cradle them yourself. Away from him.

“Get out.” You whisper. You’re suddenly so grateful that Connor insisted on staying with Hank Anderson, whoever that was.

“I don’t think that’s a good-” Connor tries to speak, but you cut him off, causing him to flinch from your anger.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!” You scream, pointing towards the door, still refusing to look at him.

“We’re still I’m a relationship, we can fix-” Connor tries to press further but you’re having none of it.

“You still think we’re dating?” You snarl our, looking up at him finally but snarling at the sight of him. “I hate you, I never want to see you again. Do you understand me?”

He’s been anticipating for you to look up at him, and for a split of a second he was, until he registered your look of pure evil. It reminds him of how humans usually look at androids, like scums under their foot. But you’ve never, in your entire relationship even looked at him or anyone he way you’re looking up at him now. The realization saddens him greatly, his brown eyes staring at your seething figure.

“I understand.” He says solemnly. His brown eyes dimming as he walks further away from your figure. Opening the door, he turns to you one last time, seeing you curled up on the couch, looking so defeated, so.. hurt. And it’s entirely his fault, it brings him to feel worse by the second. “I do love you, and I always will. Thank you for all you have given me.” He says, clearly you heard him but decide to ignore him. “Goodbye.” He whispers as he closes the door, turning to walk back to Hank’s.

While walking he notices something warm drops on his cheek. He lifts his hand to his cheek before placing it to his analyzing sensors and boggles at the discovery.

It’s tears. He’s crying. The realization only forth comes more tears, it cascading down his face and on the ground before. Every step feeling heavier than the other. he doesn’t understand these feelings that have him trapped and so pained in his synthetic heart, he grasped at his chest, feeling it hard to breathe. But then he self examines himself, researching what the hell is going on and nearly shuts down just at the results. But instead opt to pause on his travels home, falls to the ground and crying his blue heart out, out to the one he’s just lost. The results still perched in the corner of his eyes, haunting him even if he closes his eyes. He clutches his heart as he sobs into his arms, in the middle of a empty field for no one but himself to hear his shattering wailings, clutching his hair in frustration as the search results just making him sob harder.

He’s suffering from heartbreak.

3K notes · View notes