Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 7

"Well, well," he cooed. "I own your soul, and that is quite enough, darling."

"It's not enough," you seethed, your southern accent deep and piercing. "And it never will be. You may have monopoly on my soul but you will never have ownership over my free will, and I will always hate you."

"Well, let's make a deal, shall we?"

You bit your lip, knowing how this goes. You prepared to yell "no" at him, but the words could not come out just yet.

"Do me a few favors," he continued, "and I'll consider giving you ownership over your soul, little cat."

"Stop with the pet names," you spat.

He suddenly pulled his staff back and throttled you against the wall, the breath was knocked out of you, and for a moment your head spun, unable to process what had just happened. You would do anything to deny it, but your body was incomprehensibly warm, and something hummed within you with need and desire.

"Or what?" he smiled widely, pinning you helplessly against the wall. Your hands trembled, but you held your head high, brows furrowed in spite. If you could kill him, you would have done so the second you made eye contact with him your first day at the Hazbin Hotel.

"I will stick my hand so far down your fucking throat that I'll pull your heart and your teeth with it, so you'll never fucking smile at me like that again."

However, his grin never faltered. If anything it grew, like he was into what you were saying. He leaned in closer, his breath warm as it fanned across your scalding hot cheeks. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He pointed a long, gloved finger and slid it painstakingly slow across your jaw, each sensation as he progressed along your skin a firework to your nerves. His hand snaked around your waist like a creeping shadow. His words were sultry as he spoke.

"Let's start with favor number one, shall we?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip. What could he possibly ask for from you? He had everything he could ever want, or so you assumed. There was nothing that you could do for him that could possibly be enough to get your soul back.

Plus, the thought of being his damn lapdog made you physically recoil.

"Okay. What?" you said sharply.

"Tell me how you got so powerful."

"You first," you replied, rolling your eyes. He looked a little taken aback. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I know the stories. Didn't take you very long to become an Overlord either, now did it?"

He was actually silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say without sharing information he didn't want to share. Then it hit you. That's how you related, you and Alastor. You were both equally as powerful and it took you the same amount of time to do it once you arrived in Hell.

You actually scoffed a laugh aloud. He saw you as a threat! A genuine threat!

"What are you laughing about?" he asked in annoyance.

"Gee, what's it with you and laughter, Al?" you said tauntingly. "Anyway. I know something about you. I know exactly why you're being this way."

"And why's that?"

You suddenly felt very confident as you grinned so proudly you felt your fangs extend and your ears lengthen and the heat from your yellow eyes glowing. Your voice was distorted. "You're afraid of me, Alastor."

"Ha," he said, his shoulder beginning to shake. His head tilites as his body scrunched over you, breaking out into maniacal laughter. "Hahahahaaa! Afraid of you? Afraid of you? Oh, little fawn," his pitch black antler began to grow and he emitted a neon green glow; his smile grew ever the wider and his body physically grew larger; his voice was barely comprehensible from its static tone when he continued, "you're about as threatening as a newborn kitten, darling."

Ouch. That kinda hurt. You hope he didn't notice.

But he did. He laughed louder and more intensely. Right in your face. Ooh, what you would give to tear him apart limb from limb right here, right now. But you'd never get your soul back then.

He finally came down from the laughter until all that was left on his face was a closed-mouth smile. His body reverted back to its normal form. His dark eyelids were nearly drawn shut.

"Come back to me when you want to give me some answers. Then we'll talk about... your soul."

Then, he faded into the shadows, yet again until only his smile and eyes were left, and then nothing. And then you were alone and clueless on what the fuck just happened and what the actual hell you should do next.