I'll Never Meet Another You - Part 1

I'll Never Meet Another You - Part 1

📺 【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 】📺

𝐀/𝐍: Is that...? Oh my god- It's the sound of another WIP in my endless void of fanfic ideas that managed to see the light of day!! It also means I've added another demon husband to my ✨cOlLeCtIoN✨

So, I'm definitely doing a continuation of this- I was having WAY too much fun writing it.

Enjoy your yandere, stalking, creepy-ass television man! :)

. . .

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐯, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴛᴀɴɢᴏ | ᴀᴜᴛᴏʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

. . .

Electricity bounced across clawed, neon-blue fingertips as Vox’s collection of monitors booted up, lining the walls in a cyan-hued excess of the latest tech his company manufactured.  

With but a wave of his hand, the devices were slaves to his command. 

As Vox sat upon his electronic throne that was centered before it all, he closed every work-related tab within his mental browser, before slumping in his seat within the darkness. The demon rubbed where the bridge of his nose would’ve been with a stressed crease in his brows; a little habit that he had acquired from his life above.  

To say it had been a long day would’ve been the understatement of the century. For the first twelve hours since he had emerged from his quarters, Vox had been bombarded with underlings shoving incessant workloads into his lap.

Ensuring the reputation of the Vees, the new VoxTech Angelic Security system that he had been developing, the countless amount of paperwork and maintaining the digital grid, and to top it all off, he had to manage the temper of one pissed-off Valentino. 

Ugh... Fuckin' Val and his goddamn runaways... it's not my fucking fault he can't manage his toys. 

Dealing with the lustful moth Overlord's temper tantrums were usually the absolute highlights of Vox's day, but this time in particular there was quite the treat in store for the overworked Overlord.

Hm... Maybe that's how the name came to be. Ah, who am I kidding? Velv just sits on her ass all day.

Of course, Vox pushed his indignation aside and swept everything up with a winning smile of pure showmanship, the pinnacle of excellence in front of the public.

And just as everything seemed to fall into place, like any other day of Vox cleaning up the messes of his fellow Overlords, something just had to go fucking wrong.

Imagine being the literal fucking backbone of the Vees, ensuring that their picture-perfect reputation of utmost excellence and being called up by an irritated Velvet to play babysitter and manage the man-child because of fucking Angel Dust- 

And then catching wind of ḧ̴͇͕́̍i̷̡̹͋͂̓m̵͈͔̳̭̙̍͝ returning... 

A few sparks flew from Vox's antenna as his overheated fans whirred rapidly. That old timey, triangle-assed p̴̲̩̮͙̜̎́̋r̸͓̟͆̀͆i̸̼͕͓̺̹̪̔͛͊̋͗c̸̢̤̐͂͜k̵̻̭̦̣̪͈̕-̸̢̡̪͇̖̈́... 

Slowly, he took a deep breath, stretching his knuckles and tilting his head to the side with a deep frown. He had the evening to himself, now. No Radio-Pricks, no need to maintain the perfect facade he had so carefully crafted for himself and his allies, and no Valentino.

Time to unwind... 

A cup of coffee materialized in his hand with a spark of electricity that lingered around his hand, dancing upon his fingers. He scooted just a bit closer to the large, main monitor within the center of TVs installed in his office, and his mental request was immediately answered by the large computer screen before him. 

A zipped file containing possibly the most sensitive information that you couldn’t fucking torture out of the television demon happened to be the very first result of his search, almost teasing him with the overtness of his little obsession. 

Vox clicked on the file quicker than ever before, and he took a long, slow sip of his drink as he focused solely upon the pretty little blessing that had graced his screens since a few months ago.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling haphazardly on your phone in your less-than ideal apartment, but hey, it worked for you, so who was Vox to judge? Even if he would've placed you in one of the most mind-bogglingly extravagant penthouses that you'd ever seen in your afterlife, he had no qualms as long as you remained untouched. 

And luckily, his position and occupation made it more than easy to ensure that you had no one in particular in mind to take his place. 

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, nothing about you remained unseen by Vox, and no stone was left unturned when it came to your private life. 

And Vox was always there. Watching. Adoring you through digitally enamored eyes without moving an inch from his seat. 

Small, pixelated hearts floated across his interface as you looked through your phone, blessing him with a plethora of reactions. Whether it be with a small pout of your lips, to the furrow of your brows, to that cute giggle-snort you made whenever something seemed funny to you, the electronic Overlord drank it up like red wine from a golden cup glorified by gods themselves.

Lord, Vox had it bad.

Every step you took, every breath you inhaled, every purchase you made, every club or restaurant you went to, your exact order at your favorite diner, your taste in fashion and jewelry, he memorized every fact, photo, and video and saved it all in a private file.  

It was Vox's most precious possession, the closest he could ever get to you, for now.

Vox’s smile stretched across his flat-screen face; a neon hue of razor-sharp teeth pulled into a fond simper as the sound of your chiming laughter rang out across his office. 

How he wished to capture the sound, perhaps place it into a bottle for him, and only him to hear, your smile a treasure of the rarest quality to keep. 

There was no doubt about it, Vox was your number one fan. 

More monitors across the room lit up, whether it be with your beautiful face or your soft, angelic singing, there was nothing but you, you... 

Y̵̼̜̿o̴̝͕̾ṷ̸̇.̶͈͍̎̔ ̵̟̒̚ 

Vox hated the idea of having to share this with anyone else. Share you with anyone else. Every time he ended the night like this, he had to fight the urge to steal you away and seat you upon your rightful place, a throne beside his, towering above his empire with no unworthy, sinful eyes to look upon you. 

“Huh... I’ve actually always wondered what that ‘Vox’ guy is like in real life...” said demon froze at the sound of his name pouring from your lips, and a soft blush mixed with the bright blue glow of his face, coloring it a light lavender pink. You were talking to yourself again, something Vox binged like a talk show whenever he was off work.  

He could watch you all day like this. And God knows that he would massacre any number of demons, conquer any area of territory simply for a few minutes in your presence.

A casual conversation, witty banter, fuck, he'd rather talk about the goddamn weather with you than be deprived of your presence any longer. Not behind a screen, but in person.

Vox needed something, anything with you, romantic or platonic, though the former would surely grow an insatiable craving, if you kept teasing him like this.

He needed you to be there for him, to just treat him like a person.

Vox normally wouldn't mind the fact that he was always perfecting himself for others, catering to their every desire. A machine. Meant to serve the masses, and in turn, they'd fall to their feet before him like flies to honey, insatiable, pathetic worms. 

But it'd drive anyone to the brink of fucking insanity, to keep up the same, cheery yet suave charade every draining day.

And with you? Even if you never knew about your secret admirer’s ever-prying eyes watching your every step, it felt like Vox didn't need to put on a show for you. He could simply watch and listen as you, sweet, mischievous, lovable you talked his ears off for the rest of his day.

What I'd give to just kiss the hell out of her-

“Heh, he’s actually kind of cute. Y’know, for a TV, I guess...” you giggled at the end of your sentence as you scrolled through more photos of him, drinking up every piece of content that featured the demon that was watching you through your camera.  

A little side-menu of exactly what you had been looking through immediately popped up, and an intense zapping noise from above signaled to Vox that, once again, the demon was two seconds away from overheating and having to reboot himself as he nearly spit out his hot drink. 

Vox nearly short-circuited in his seat as you smiled warmly down at your phone, directly into his eyes as his cold, mechanical heart pounded in his chest, and bright red spread across his screen like a virus.

“Oh... Ohoho...” 

“Now that’s good television...” 

. . .

End Notes: Ok, holy SHIT-

I really like this one. Like GODDAMN this was so fun to write!! I'll definitely be doing headcanons for yandere Hazbin Hotel very soon. Also, that A03 shit I just pulled at the end? You're welcome ;)

Btw I'm working on my Masterlist, so if anyone has requests or drabbles that they'd like to enter, don't be afraid to ask! I think I'll make some rules clear later, like no EXTREME asks or kinks or anything like that.

Smut is on the table though don't be afraid lmao. I'll be the one shaking in my boots when I'm about to post it- 😓

Anyway, thanks for reading!! See you next time✨

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 4

🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: I am SO GLAD that I got this out sooner- istg this was going to be SO MUCH LONGER but after extensive writing and editing, I finally found a flow that I vibe with, and I'm really excited for you all to read this one.

Happy reading :)

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒,𝟏𝟕𝟖 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑶𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏

. . .

The weeks following your rendezvous at the diner passed by in a flurry, leaving you in a delighted tizzy as you and Alastor grew ever closer to one another. You couldn’t even count on both hands how many times he had spontaneously swept you off of your feet and pulled you into whatever shenanigans the cheeky radio star had in store. 

It was exhausting, but being with him was exhilarating all the same. 

And you could already tell you were in for quite the afternoon as he jaunted out of the recording booth, enthusiasm rolling off of him in waves. 

“Well, hello to you too, Al’,” you smiled and took off your headphones as Alastor straightened his bowtie with a haughty smirk, and you rolled your eyes. That man was ever the cocky one whenever you paid him a visit to his recording booth, as you never failed to shower him with compliments and applause at his performance. 

And seeing your awestruck face as you leaned towards the glass always made him more inclined to put on a show, just for you. 

“You were amazing out there, as always, of course,” Alastor chuckled and waved a hand dramatically in the air as if you’d said something completely preposterous. Praising Alastor was practically treason for you; the man simply could not take a compliment. 

“Oh, how you flatter me! I’m just doing my job, darling,” even oblivious little you could see that he was preening with pride, though your captivated stare trained on none other than him was all the praise Alastor would ever need. 

“That was great, Al’! One of your best performances, if I do say so, myself!” Your supervisor beamed with his hands on his hips, clearly as excited as Alastor, though for entirely different reasons. 

The radio host was still reeling with joy from the fiery sensation of your bewitched gaze adoringly trained on him, tracing his soft, handsome features with yearning eyes. 

He stole every glance at you throughout the broadcast that he could subtly manage; how your lips parted softly whenever Alastor spoke so boldly with his hands, how animated he seemed in the recording booth.

He noticed your quiet, melodic laughter that he practically breathed, the smile that he one dreamed of kissing, laying his lips against your warmth like he had captured sunlight itself between his teeth- 

“I think you should be here during recordings more often,” the young, spiffing producer muttered as he leaned over to you, leaving you in bashful laughter. Alastor narrowed his eyes slightly at the proximity, and he held no hesitation to step between you two and snake an arm around your shoulder. 

“Well, my dear, I believe this week’s recent success calls for a celebration! Hugo, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short. I’ve planned an afternoon for me and the lady, here,” his usual smile returned, and you could feel Alastor relax as his hand fell down your forearm, grasping it with a firm yet comfortable grip. 

Hugo raised a knowing eyebrow, his eyes switching between you two as he shrugged his shoulders. “I see how it is. Givin’ ol’ Hugo the boot, huh?” He opened the door for Alastor, taking a slight bow as the radio host guided you outside one of the studio’s many broadcasting rooms. 

“I get it. I’ll stay out of your way, Al’. Just treat her right, ya’ hear?” Hugo nudged Alastor’s arm, and you could feel your friend stiffen as his hand clenched your arm tighter than before, though he laughed the discomfort off with an even wider grin. But a small glimpse of his gums told you all you needed to know. 

“Oh, no, no, no! We’re nothing like that!” You shook your head vigorously as you subtly put yourself between him and your supervisor. “He’s just so good to me, you know? Such a good friend to have, especially with that slasher running around,” you shuddered for emphasis. 

Hugo raised a teasing eyebrow. “Oh, really? Heh, could’ve fooled me.” Striking teal eyes flickered to said radio host, whose smile had stiffened significantly to the point of looking almost painful. You shot down the very idea that you two could ever be in a relationship, though he did appreciate your interception from the unwanted physical contact. 

But did you truly resent the idea of being with him that much? 

“He’s just so kind, and he cooks like a real professional, too!” You practically sang Alastor’s praises as Hugo strode beside you two with his arms crossed while you walked through the studio, attempting a hasty getaway out the door and whisked away to be with each other in peace. 

“That so?” Hugo was gauging Alastor’s every reaction to your words, clearly not buying the fact that you two weren’t together, or at the very least, not interested in one another. 

An unrequited love, perhaps? But this broad’d off her rocker not to fall for a guy like him. 

You nodded vigorously at your supervisor as you walked with Alastor toward the exit. “A real sweet talker, too. Y’know, Al’, you could teach Hugo here a thing or two,” when your hand wrapped around his and squeezed, and all the built-up tension was suddenly released from his form. 

Alastor’s smile softened into something a bit more genuine as he looked down at you. 

“Aren’t you just darling? Almost makes me want to spoil my little surprise for you,” he tapped your nose with a wide grin, reveling in how you blinked in surprise before blushing and turning your head away. 

“Oh, you’ll be the one getting a surprise if you don’t stop with your nonsense...” You grumbled before waving to Hugo on your way out of the studio. “Have a good day, Hugo!”  

Once you crossed the threshold, the strawberry-blonde waved you off with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow as Alastor glanced back at him. He could already see the gears turning in the young producer’s head.  

Well, God save him if he got any ideas and started meddling where he wasn’t supposed to, like a certain acquaintance of his... 

Once you arrived in the parking lot, you pulled away from Alastor’s side so that you could enter the passenger seat of his car. The winter chill that had settled in the seats left you shivering, and you turned over to Alastor with a shudder and a wobbly smile. 

“Tough weather, huh? God, what I’d give for a hot chocolate...” 

What kind of man could he call himself if he left his darling trembling like a leaf in the wind, left to the unforgiving elements? 

Without any kind of hesitation, Alastor slipped off his jacket and lent it to you, despite your insistent protests. He had considered you before himself too much, and you really weren’t that cold, the car would heat up soon, and- 

“Take it, my dear. I can’t have you freezing before you meet my dear friend, after all,” Alastor carefully leaned over, his glasses slipping towards the edge of his pointed nose as he laid the jacket upon you. 

His carnivorous, half-lidded gaze devoured an eyeful of you as he pretended to be meticulously positioning the jacket on you, his fingers ghosting each curve of your waist, the give of your belly, tracing along the chub of your hips, your love handles. The lustful thoughts that seeped in with Alastor’s touch nearly broke his resolve to restrain himself, as his yearning gaze lingered around your womb. 

Alastor quickly sat back into his seat and buckled his own seatbelt before inserting his car keys into the hole, gripping them with whitening knuckles. 

“Thanks for the jacket. I was freezing over here,” you sighed and shivered in your seat. 

“Don’t mention it, darling,” the words smoothly fell off of his lips, as if he wasn’t mentally bashing himself for touching you like that, though each advance he held himself back from went unnoticed by you as you relaxed into the leather-clad car seat. 

The aroma of bittersweet pine and cinnamon overwhelmed your senses, and Alastor’s scent made you relax considerably as you snuggled into the jacket. 

You had been running around, taking orders and checking things off your task list all morning, only looking forward to Alastor’s broadcast the most that day. His soothing voice nearly lulled you to sleep, but you forced yourself awake, out of respect. 

The last tender words he spoke to you as you slept the car ride away, snoozing peacefully even as it came to a full stop in front of Alastor’s destination. 

You looked so peaceful, so heart-wrenchingly vulnerable tucked into his jacket, away from the prying eyes of the world and within his arms. 

How he wished your paths had crossed before everything that had happened, before Alastor’s infamously heinous deeds as the New Orleans Slasher. 

And how he wished his mother could’ve met you. 

Alastor admired your dozing form for a few more minutes, before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot and driving away into the bleak gray mist that had fallen over the city. 

. . . 

“We’re here, darling.” Like a switch, his voice instantly pulled you from your nap, and you groaned and stretched with a yawn. 

“Come along now. You don't want me to be late for my meeting, do you?” Alastor’s voice, normally at the highest volume possible, had fallen into a quiet, tender whisper as he gently knocked on the window, rousing you awake. 

“Oh, Alastor,” you mumbled sleepily, “Are we here already?” You rubbed your drooping eyes as he chuckled and slowly pulled you out of the vehicle. 

“Why, yes, we are darling. And I want you to be fully awake for when you meet my friend, now, so chop-chop!” He carefully situated his jacket onto your shoulders, and you both plundered through the snowy streets towards the sidewalks, where various shops and stores sat snug and warm and sheltering their inhabitants from the biting cold that nipped at your nose and pinched your cheeks with frostbite. 

Alastor steadied you upon the ice with careful hands snaked around your waist, though all it did was make you nearly slip from the surprise contact. He was getting particularly touchy, lately. Not that you were complaining. 

And who were you to complain of the fine, slender fingers, twisting and resting upon you, sharing their warmth and affection, when you clearly craved Alastor’s touch so? When your yearning gazes became more and more frequent with each passing day. 

You shook your head of such impish thoughts as you and Alastor strode closer to the row of quaint stores and shops.

“Ah, yes. This is the place,” you glanced from the nearly identical red brick buildings to the particular one that Alastor had stopped at.

A delicate, thin line of cursive was masterfully inscribed upon a large hanging sign, reading, “𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓑𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓮,” in a muted cerise pink. 

Your eyes scanned the fine chiffon-paned windows with wide eyes. Intricate designs lined with frills and lace stood proudly behind the glass, looking to be of Victorian descent, a more dignified, esteemed time of elegance. 

The high frilled collars and waist-choking corsets made you inwardly cringe as you and Alastor walked up the steps, and your uncertainty quickly faded when you stepped inside the boutique.  

It looked like a classical, cozy little parlor ripped straight out of a storybook, with a large grandfather clock in the corner and a row of bookshelves standing grandly beside a luxurious sofa chair, covered in dust and peeling slightly in some places, hinting at the age of the relic. 

The small ding of a bell rang once the door opened, and it was soon accompanied by a pair of quick footsteps heading down the hallway as a woman called out from behind the hardwood archway that seemed inappropriate for a clothing store. At least, that was what you had assumed it to be in the first place. 

“I’ll be right there! Don’t you move an inch, now!” The voice carried a welcoming lilt, like an old friend that you had gotten into trouble with more than several times in primary school. 

You peeked out from the small waiting area you had stepped into and were blessed with the sight of rows and rows of opulent, elegant dresses flooded the store that you were sure would have your wallet weeping should you dare to try paying for any of them. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting like that, I was just busy with another customer. Now, what can I do for you?”

You blinked in surprise, entirely not expecting the sight of the stately lady before you. Her face was kind, perhaps a bit playful, despite her imposing stature and air of sophisticated elegance she carried. 

She was the spitting image of each design that she precariously crafted, like a well-knowing yet mischievous auntie that you could sit down and chat over a cup of tea with for hours. 

“Uh, well,” you looked to Alastor, but he simply smiled down at you, being of absolutely no help whatsoever. “Well, he said that we were just here to meet a friend, so you should ask him,” narrowing your eyes at the cheeky radio host, who was probably getting a kick out of your discomfort, you pointed up at Alastor. 

The owner – presumably Rosie – blinked, her already ghost-like complexion somehow turning even paler as she laid eyes on Alastor, who stood behind you with a smile full of teeth. 

“Oh, Alastor! Is that really you?” You reeled back in surprise as Rosie took him by the shoulders and spun around a few times with a wide, somehow shark-like beam. 

“Oh, it has been ages since I’ve seen you that I nearly didn’t recognize you! Just where have you been!?” Rosie gushed over him as she placed a hand to her heart, flashing a smile full of teeth to the radio host.  

You looked between them with a bewildered expression. You thought Alastor only allowed you to touch him like that, and so abruptly, too... 

“Ah, well, I’m glad that my presence was missed, my dear Rosie,” you raised an eyebrow. My dear? “After all, your fittings are some of the best in New Orleans!” 

“Aw, ever the flatterer, aren’t you?”

The pair seemed to completely ignore you in the moment, lost in their own reunion until Rosie placed her hands on her hips with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in her pitch-black gaze.  

“And it seems like this pretty little flower’s kept you from my parlor for quite some time! Oh, Al', you just keep bringing so many beautiful young women to my doorstep!” 

Now that last part really made you take pause. There were other women before you? You slightly deflated at that thought, though you didn’t know what you expected from someone with Alastor’s reputation and overall appeal.  

But the burn in your heart and the slight sting in your eyes betrayed your hurt at the fact that you weren’t anything special to the radio host you had become so taken with.  

“But this one might just be the most delectable of all!” Before you could question her strange choice of words, Rosie urgently began pushing you towards the back of the store, past racks of gorgeous dresses and in front of the front counter. 

She slipped behind the hardwood desk covered in shiny knickknacks, assorted jewelry – many in the shape of small hearts for the romantic season – and even little chocolate candies covered in shiny, bright pink and red wrapping. 

Alastor followed closely behind you two with his arms behind his back. 

“How about some candy? It is that time of year, after all! All that romance in the air, the taste of young love on every girl’s tongue! A pretty thing like you must’ve caught the eye of someone special.” She grinned widely down at you, and you happily reached for a piece. “Sure, I'll take one.” 

“And who might that be for, my dear?” You jumped and glanced up at Alastor, whose eyes watched your face carefully. His tone bit at the air with a malice you hadn’t heard since the incident at the diner. Rosie leaned against the counter, clearly drinking up every bit of tension.  

“That’s none of your business, now, is it?” Taking a chocolate heart, you thanked Rosie with a grateful smile, completely ignoring how Alastor’s eye twitched and he clung closer to your side. His smile stretched wider across his face, the tips of his lips twitching slightly as you gave him a brief side-glance. 

Such a strange man... 

“So, are you going to introduce us?” Rosie waved to you with a hand on her hip. 

“Why, how rude of me!” Alastor pulled you even closer to himself with a hand slung around your shoulder. “This here is my lovely little assistant, and she’s been staying with me for the past couple of weeks! I’ll tell you, she’s quite the helper around the studio! One could only dream to find someone as useful!” Alastor’s scent overwhelmed you as he hugged you close, and when you awkwardly tried to pull away from Alastor’s grasp, he gripped you tighter to himself. 

Useful? Was that all you were to him? 

"Assistant? I don't remember-" A prompt squeeze of your shoulder from Alastor kept you quiet, and you glared up at him.

“Oh, my! Sounds like you’re quite popular!” It was then that you noticed the slight Boston accent that laced Rosie’s words.  

“You know what? The ladies that join here for afternoon tea would just adore you! And they’ve just arrived, too! Oh, Alastor, won’t you let the Doll say hi?” Rosie turned to him with a pleading expression, though Alastor knew that the store owner never waited for permission to do just about anything. 

Normally, he’d say yes, but you weren’t fresh meat on the chopping block, nor were you a puppet for Alastor’s entertainment, not anymore at least. 

And those women would eat you alive. 

“I’m afraid not, my dear. She is not much for such fraternization," he emphasized with a hint of irritation. Rosie deflated with a pout but didn’t push upon the matter. Some of Al’s toys were off-limits, she supposed. 

Oh, well. He never was very good at sharing. 

A twinge of irritation pricked at the back of your mind. Why didn’t Alastor ask you if you wanted to meet her friends? You would’ve jumped at the chance to meet someone new, but now, with the finality Alastor's tone carried, it seemed such a thing was out of the question. 

It irked you that he thought he had any say upon your friendships outside of himself, the strange, oddly possessive man that he was. 

But what you despised even more was how easily you complied with his wishes. 

“Oh, well, all right then. Perhaps some other time,” Rosie’s smile quickly returned to her face as she straightened her shoulders, shaking off the disappointment from seconds ago. “So, what business can I help you two with?” She folded her hands upon the front desk’s surface with half-lidded eyes, taking upon an air of professionalism.

“Oh, just a private matter I’ve long awaited to tend to, nothing to concern the Doll about. Shall we speak in the parlor?” You narrowed your eyes at Alastor, before shrugging nonchalantly and promptly left his side to observe the rest of the store, turning to a corner with shiny bobbles and trinkets that had caught your eye.  

Alastor swiveled to you, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise, and Rosie chuckled at his bewilderment.  

“Don’t mind me, just minding my own business,” you turned your back on the pair completely, and Alastor had half a mind to drag you back to the front desk with a tighter grip on your middle than ever before. 

“Shall we, then?” Amusement danced in the store owner’s pitch-black eyes as Alastor stiffly nodded with a twitching smile.

The room in which the pair held their usual meetings in was quite similar to the waiting room in which you and Alastor had arrived in, though this one was much more decorated and clearly tailored to Rosie’s personal style, as it was furnished with antiques and furniture most likely preserved from the Victorian era of England. 

A small sofa chair sat across from a matching striped loveseat, the fabric of both furnishings colored a cerise pink and decorated with small, dainty intricacies carved into the dark wood of the legs. Bookshelves lined nearly every wall save for the entrance and a small window hanging above a writing desk.  

Lilting classical music poured from the well-kept gramophone situated beside a bookshelf, just behind the loveseat. 

Alastor made himself comfortable on the sofa chair across from the loveseat where Rosie was seated, pouring herself a cup of tea and him a glass of whiskey from a bottle beside the tea set. 

“So, what troubling matters have graced me with your visit, Alastor?” She raised the cup to her maroon-tinted lips and took a small sip, taking small note of how his left hand rose to his bowtie to straighten it, and his fingers tapped frantically against the arm of the chair.

“I needed to ask you for some advice,” he fiddled with his collar for a moment more, his smile widening. This was going to be an awkward conversation, and Rosie surely wouldn’t make it any easier for him, but this certainly wasn’t the lowest level he would stoop to in order to get what he wanted. 

Besides, Alastor was well aware that Rosie was something of an expert within the aspect of the heart. If she was the one to go to, he’d make the sacrifice of a slight blow to his pride from the teasing. 

“It is no secret that your areas of expertise are outside of my specialties,” he continued, and almost immediately, Rosie perked up with a wide grin, though the confusion that followed sprouted many questions. Why in the world would someone like him want advice on something like that? 

“Oh, you know I pride myself upon my specialty upon the matters of the heart!” She fluttered her sharp-nailed fingers at him, intrigue piqued and her inner curiosity buzzing. Could it be...? 

“I must say, I’m surprised you’ve taken an interest in such matters. Any particular reason for this sudden change of heart?” Rosie leaned against the chair, waiting for him to answer with a soft smirk. Alastor’s eyebrow twitched. She was going to make him say it. 

“Well, there happens to be an investment of mine that has caught more than my eye, recently.” His attempts to be vague fell completely flat when Rosie caught his eyes glancing towards the door behind him. 

“And does that ‘investment’ just so happen to be standing outside the door?”

“Ah, ever unrelenting with your teasing, I see,” his voice bit with sarcasm, and he put to use the glass of whiskey that Rosie had provided him with, taking a drink and composing himself.

“Oh, come on, Al’. I’ve seen that look before." Rosie sighed dramatically, looking him up and down with knowing eyes. "You’re in love with her. And you have no idea how to go about it.” 

A tender gaze focused upon her oldest friend as his hands tightened around the glass of whiskey. Alastor clearly wasn’t used to being prodded like this. And though normally Rosie would respect his boundaries, love called for a more... personal approach. 

“I’ll help you, but I want to be sure,” her soft, motherly demeanor all but evaporated as she narrowed her eyes at him, sharp, dark pupils analyzing every movement like a shark circling blood. 

But he was never one to squirm under pressure. 

“You’re sure that you love her?”  

“With everything that I am.”  

“You’d cross every line for her?” 

“There is no line I haven’t already crossed. I’d plunge the depths of Hell to be by her side.” 

“No matter the cost, you’ll never watch her fall for another?” 

“I’d sooner sell my own soul and rip out the heart of those who dare to try.”  

The flame in his eyes challenged her overprotective glare, and Rosie relaxed with a deep inhale, relenting her gaze and letting her smile return to her pale features.  

“Alright, I’ll help you. But don’t you break that poor girl’s heart, or you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” Alastor relaxed back into the sofa chair. Perhaps this ‘love’ business wouldn’t be so difficult, after all. 

Rosie promptly set her teacup down upon the coffee table and leaned forward to spill every secret in her book as if it were one of their regular gossiping sessions, laughing and trading pleasantries over tea.

And she'd make sure that you would be swooning at Alastor's feet when she was done with him.

“Now, here’s the gist of what to do...” 

She was something of a miracle worker, after all.

. . . 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: WELCOME TO THE END! YES, YOU DID IT!!

I'm so sorry to dump this whole fic onto ya'll- When I tell you that I audibly gasped when I saw the word count in my drafts-

Like this thing was 4,800 WORDS. I AM NOT ABOUT TO DO THAT TO YA'LL.

Anyways, it's always fun to write for this fic, but this one was so fun to do!! Istg Rosie would be the best wingman ever. She would solve The Summer I Turned Pretty in two episodes.

Thank you so much for reading! I'll see you next time with our favorite demented, yandere TV Man!!

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer, @prosciuttosblog @frog-fans-unite

➺ 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒐 @cafekitsune - 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!

Ok but how are ya'll sleeping on Tsuchigomori?? Like the writers are giving you SO MUCH MATERIAL-

Ahahahahaha I love your Vox content and I've just been brainrotting over the TV man for a while so I wanted to request if you could write some Vox x fem!reader fluff? Something like how they spend Valentines together(if the residents of hell even celebrate that-) since the holiday is coming up :D

______________________________________________________________

Ok, it'll be out soon today! And since I love this idea so much, I'll think about making a mini–Valentine's Day series with Vox, Alastor, and Lucifer (who I've never written for before but I'm open to trying it)

Thank you for requesting!!

🙏let's hope this shit works

Reblog the writers’ fortune cookie for luck!

What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1

🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.

Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

. . . 

The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill. 

It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night. 

But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.

The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room. 

Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear. 

“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.

Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.

As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.

Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.

"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."

“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...” 

The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.

And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.

You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.

A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?

I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.

He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!

With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.

You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite. 

You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape. 

You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.

“Hel-!” 

Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.

"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.

You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.

You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."

You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.

As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands. 

Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I- 

AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor. 

“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.

For just a moment, I thought I saw...

With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile. 

  “Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.

Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.

Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!

Ah, his dear mama...

He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.

"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"

He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.

"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.

You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!

Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.

"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"

"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.

"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.

"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.

Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.

"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.

Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.

Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.

Put your head on my shoulder~

A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.

As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.

Hold me in your arms, baby...

Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.

Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...

He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.

You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.

Show me, that you love me, too~...

"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.

You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.

Put your lips next to mine, dear~...

But... Perhaps this would be worth it.

Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.

Won't you kiss me once, baby~?

Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.

He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?

But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.

You and I will fall in love...

"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."

. . . 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???

Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...

Let's just see how far this goes lmao.