Love me not

by secret170193

Summary:

Vox pulled his pocket handkerchief out and winced as he spat into it. Vox froze, screen paling as he spotted what had been causing the problem.
A single, bright yellow, pointed petal lay in the very centre of his obnoxiously red and black striped handkerchief.

-‐---------

Vox starts coughing up flowers after seeing Alastor in person for the first time since the radio demon vanished. He knows his options are limited because there is no chance in Hell that Alastor will return his feelings. The only thing left to do while he figures things out is hide it from the other Vees... and the rest of Hell.

Notes:

Apologies for any imprecise tagging, it's very limited from phones so I'm hoping 'Canon typical' tags cover the ones I can't add!

Chapter 1

It wasn’t fair. He’d been fine. Seven fucking years and he’d been just fine. Then that fucker had slipped back into his life and everything had just snowballed downhill.

At first nothing had changed. Vox had been bitter, petty, vindictive and depressed when Alastor reappeared but, other than that, life (or rather the afterlife) had been fairly normal. That was, until he found himself stuck on Overlord meeting duty. Velvette had gone last time and seriously pissed off Carmilla to the point where the meeting had ended early. Now it was his turn and the subject of the meeting was very obvious. The only big thing that had gone down since the last meeting that warranted another was the battle between heaven’s forces and that stupid hotel of redemption.

The battle that had taken Alastor out of commission to the point where Vox had started to fear him dead. That was until his drones had spotted a very much alive looking Alastor showing up just in time to see the rebuilt Hotel completed. Whether he’d skipped out on helping because he was avoiding the extra work or whether he’d held back because he was just that injured was still unclear to Vox, but he’d never admit that the sigh that slipped from his screen as he saw his rival, alive and well, might be one of relief.

The meeting was honestly incredibly dull for the topic. They’d finally found a sure-fire way to combat Heaven’s forces and turn the tide of any battle. They could finally sway Hell’s occupants with offers of genuine protection and bolster their own sectors. But for some stupid reason all people wanted to talk about was whether the Princess’s crackpot hotel worked or not. What did it fucking matter if it did? Surely that was a bad thing for all of them, right? If souls started fucking off to heaven then there would be none left to own, they’d end up practically powerless.

Despite his thoughts, Vox didn’t blurt them all out. He wasn’t Velvette or Val, he wasn’t about to show off his thoughts if he hadn’t given himself good enough reason to yet. Give him time to script it out and a half dozen cameras to push his viewpoint and sure, he’d fight his corner. But outside of that it was just handing the other overlords ammo he really didn’t need to be giving them.

No, instead he spent the meeting watching Alastor. His eyes narrowed as he took in every part of his rival from his attentively pointed ears to the tight grip he had on his cane.. was that a new cane or was Vox just remembering it’s details incorrectly. He could have sworn it didn’t have that kink in the middle before. Vox shook that thought off and tried to focus but every time his mind wandered it’d end up back at Alastor until, eventually, Alastor’s eyes snapped to look at Vox with scrutiny.

Any other overlord, any other time, and Vox would have held his nerve, glared them down. His gaze locked onto Alastor’s.

Then dropped.

Fuck.

The meeting began to head for a close, having accomplished nothing and added no new or useful information. This is why he hated coming to these, more often than not he already knew what was going on and had footage stashed away somewhere of the exact events they’d be discussing. He had eyes and ears everywhere for a reason. Except inside that damned (or blessed, who fucking knew anymore) hotel. And Alastor clearly wasn’t about to give up his own knowledge either so that was essentially a dead end.

If he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, he admired that secrecy. Alastor never gave away more than he had to unless it benefitted him. If you thought you had something on the deer, you were already two steps into his snare and doomed. It’s fine, he was allowed to admire such traits. It just didn’t help that he admired the deer’s strength, resilience, style, looks...

No.

No, he’d been through this before and got thoroughly and utterly rejected to the point of such humiliation that he avoided the mention of their fight as much as possible. He couldn’t go torturing himself with that stupid, little crush-...

Vox tensed minutely for a second as he felt something tickle at the back of his throat. He stifled a cough, turning his screen from the table to muffle it into his sleeve. Nobody seemed to notice. Nobody but Alastor, that is. The radio demon narrowed his eyes but immediately went back to ignoring Vox as the rest of the overlords stood to leave.

Ignoring decorum, Vox excused himself hurriedly and was one of the first to slip outside, shooting Alastor a quick glare when the deer smirked at his apparent discomfort. Vox sidestepped around the corner of the building and gave a proper cough to get that stupid tickle out of his throat. He pulled his pocket handkerchief out and winced as he spat into it. Fuck, what had he eaten? Vox froze, screen paling as he spotted what had been causing the problem.

A single, bright yellow, pointed petal lay in the very centre of his obnoxiously red and black striped handkerchief.

Fuck.

--------------------

“Val?”

“Hm?”

Vox casually flicked though his cue cards, feigning nonchalance as best he could.

“You get a lot of souls in your studio catch that.. what’s that illness with the flowers?”

Valentino took a long draw of his cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of smoke on the word.

“Hanahaki, querido. And it’s not something they catch. Well.. not in the contagious sense.”

The faint glee in Valentino’s tone hinted that he’d seen the effects first hand and, the sadist that he was, rather enjoyed it. Vox tilted his screen a little, not quite taking his eyes off his papers. He didn’t want the moth to figure out just how interested he really was.

“Oh? Go on...”

Valentino leaned back on the couch, humming in recollection.

“It usually happens when some foolish whore catches feelings, gets a bit too emotionally invested in someone else. Someone else who doesn’t return those feelings. They start hacking up flowers until the feelings are returned. Or until they stop breathing often enough that I make them get the surgery.”

Vox did flick his gaze to Valentino then, raising an eyebrow.

“Surgery?”

Valentino wafted the smoke away with a flick of his hand.

“Oh yeah. Cuts out the nasty little roots from the source. No more petals, no more feelings. I do try to hold it off though. It breaks their spirits and, let’s be perfectly honest, it makes for some fantastic shoots. I can give you a few clips if you’re discovering an.. interest.”

If there was one thing Vox found incredibly useful about Val, it was that the moth never questioned kinks. If anything he was more than willing to supply practically any sort of material. He hadn’t even put two and two together when Vox had developed a slight taste for cannibal stars several years ago. Not that that was related to anyone or anything in particular...

“Sure, just uh.. email some over or something. I’ll take a look after my segment.”

He kept up the mask of indifference. It was much better for him if Val thought this was just another potential fetish and not... a diagnosis.

-----------------------

His segment finished late and by the time Vox got back to his penthouse he’d almost forgotten about Val’s promise. It was only when he was settling down with a strong drink in his most comfortable chair that he even noticed the email notifications.

‘Hanahaki Whores Compilation – enjoy! Val xxx’

Vox felt a strange sense of morbid curiosity as he clicked the links and began to watch. There was clearly some storyline bled into some of them, addressing the obsessive love that seemed to bring on the disease. Then, because it was porn afterall, some went through plots of fucking around, gangbangs, anything to try to quell the symptoms by fixating on other individuals. Most of those involved gratuitous scenes that had Val’s ‘stars’ coughing up brightly coloured petals as dicks were stuffed down their throats repeatedly. Some were clearly faked but a concerning amount looked as real as the yellow petal that had slipped from Vox’s own throat.

Finally came the aftermath clips. The same stars he’d clocked as really having the disease only it was obviously cut together footage from a later date. Post surgery. They seemed...disconnected, emotionless. Like the only thing important to them was the scene at hand, and getting it done so they could leave. It was unsettling and took Vox out of his viewing enough that he closed the tab he was watching.

He’d come to the conclusion finally that this had to be something different. Those actors were practically spewing up entire plants looking at their object of infatuation with a soppy, loving expression the entire time despite the obvious pain they were in. He’d just spat up a single petal and panicked over nothing. It just happened to coincide with Alastor being in the same room.

It wasn’t like he was in love with Alastor. It’d just been a silly crush once upon a time and he was only fixated because his rival had been gone so long. It wasn’t like he was imagining Alastor in those filthy videos, looking up at him.. so lovingly...

Vox jerked, bolting up to double over as a sudden spasm shook through his chest. He clutched at the arm of his chair with one hand, covering his mouth with the other as a rough series of coughs jolted through him.

After a few agonising moments of catching his breath through what felt like cotton in his lungs, Vox pulled his hand away from his screen. There, in the palm of his hand, splattered with fluorescent blue spit, were three velvety yellow petals.

Vox felt his screen pale.

Oh no.

 

Chapter 2

Carrying on as normal was easier than Vox had thought at first. All he had to do was avoid all thoughts of the radio demon. Simple enough, right? Well unfortunately once the thought of Alastor rooted in his mind, very much like the disease rooting in his lungs, it was very difficult to prevent his thoughts from returning there.

For the first few days he focused on work, on keeping himself busy. But then, on a walk through the tower, a flash of deep red caught the edge of his gaze as an employee passed him and the first thought that sprung to mind was that it was the same shade of red that Alastor sported so fetchingly.

A stifled cough shook through him and, picking up his pace, he only just made it to the closest bathroom before hacking up half a flower into the sink. He immediately began crushing it down the drain before anyone else could walk in and spot it. The last thing he needed was for his employees to start spreading rumours of him being in love. No, he couldn’t have any of that.

The next day Vox’s section of the Vee’s tower suddenly had a uniform code. No red.

It was another two days before the issue made itself known again when Vox was flicking through his screens, checking through the advertisements he was going to allow on his channels. One popped up that immediately caught his attention. That stupid hotel for ‘redeeming sinners’. It was bright, flashy and showing off every part of the place’s new design. What he did notice was the lack of Alastor. Not just in the images, that was to be expected, but in the wording, the directing. No, this wasn’t tugged at by the strings the radio demon pulled, not like the first one. There was something distinctly Lucifer about it. Which of course lead Vox’s mind down a path of questions.

Was Alastor less involved with the hotel now that the King of Hell had his fingers in that particular pie? Was he mad about being pushed aside or was he willingly avoiding that particular area of management? Did he have a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, if he was angry and frustrated about this development? Could Vox fill that role...?

The media overlord didn’t even get a chance to think about running for the bathroom, turning and grabbing a wastepaper basket just in time to hack up entire flowers, the petals tickling over his raw throat where the threats of stems scratched at it. He pulled back, head spinning a little, with desperate gulping to take in air. He hesitated before dropping his gaze to the mess of bright yellow, flecks of fluorescent blue spattered over them where he’d had blood drip from his mouth.

Daffodils.

Bright, obnoxiously happy looking fucks. He couldn’t even bury them amongst paper or pass them off as blood, his own or someone else’s, in a handkerchief. No, they just had to be as obvious and showy as he himself was. Vox slammed the wastepaper basket back on the floor, leaning back in his chair with a frustrated groan. Maybe it was worth getting checked. Privately, of course. Nobody could know...

------------------

It was difficult to get appointments to see medical professionals in the pride ring, unless you were important or rich, of which Vox was both. Which was strange as many just went through the horrors of offing themselves just to respawn. Why wait in line for three days to fix a broken arm over months when you could have a trigger happy buddy just feed you bullets? Vox personally was glad to avoid that mind-set.

Technological upgrades were different to biological fixes, afterall, but he did have parts of himself that were still ‘human’ enough that a doctor was required. Including his lungs and heart. Sure, his blood looked like someone had filled his veins with fluid from a blue glow stick, but functionally his heart beat the same way as everyone else’s. And would suffer the same way as anyone else who had roots compressing their vital organs.

He’d been to this particular physician many times in the past, it’s how he knew they could keep their imp mouth shut. So he was a little less evasive with them than with Val.

“So, Mister Vox. You’re in for a.. chest infection?”

Vox glanced at the door to check it was definitely closed and sank to sit down on the edge of the medical bed.

“You know damn well I’m not. I’m never here for what I put on the paperwork, that’s the whole point.”

The imp, unimpressed as usual, looked Vox up and down.

“Well then, don’t waste my time. What are you here for?”

Vox huffed and looked off to the side as he stripped off his jacket and shirt. He knew the drill. Poking, prodding, scans... clothes just got in the way.

“Hanahaki.”

The imp paused, looking Vox up and down with a scrutinising mix of disbelief and intrigue.

“You’re sure?”

Vox rolled his eyes, shifting to lay himself out on the medical table, propped up on his elbows for a moment as he shot the doctor an unimpressed look.

“Uh, yeah. The hacking up fucking plants tends to be a pretty big hint.”

The imp gave a little shrug and started scribbling on their charts.

“I’m just surprised. You don’t really seem the type to...”

Seeming to sense that they were treading into unwelcome territory from the glare that Vox shot them, the doctor swiftly cleared their throat.

“..anyway, I can get you booked in for surgery by the end of the week, though I will warn you that it might be more expensive than most due to your.. unique biological structure.”

Vox was used to that part, getting charged extra purely due to his technological components. And due to his position of power. What had him pause was something else entirely.

“Surgery? Surely there are.. other routes.”

Again, the imp seemed nonchalantly surprised, starting to set up a portable x-ray in the background.

“Well you only really have three options. Your best one is to operate. You’ll never feel for them again but you’ll be flower-free and you can get on with your life. The second is to hope your feelings are reciprocated and that you’re confessed to, which let’s face it, is unlikely. No offence, but a big presence like you, you’re hardly the type to lack in confidence so I’m guessing option two is already off the table.”

Vox huffed, eyes narrowed as the physician read him like a book. He didn’t like people being able to see past what he wanted them to see, but this was probably the one circumstance where it was actually useful.

“And option three?”

The doctor looked up from their chart with a deadpan expression.

“You die.”

There was a beat of awkward silence before the imp glanced back down at their charts.

“Not that you won’t respawn, you will. But it’ll just come back over and over, and you’ll die over and over. I can’t imagine that’ll be particularly fun or useful.”

They waved a hand, indicating for Vox to lay back, and lowered the table until it was the right height for the x-ray. Vox held his breath as instructed and within a few seconds they were both looking at a screen, a tangled mess of plant matter filling the edges where the media overlord’s lungs showed, buds already forming for his next coughing fit yet to come. Vox frowned.

“How long does it take to kill?”

The imp studied their charts and the x-ray for a few moments.

“You said the first petals were about a week ago? With growth like this I’d say you’ve probably got three weeks. It’s a good thing you came to me now, your case is particularly aggressive. But, like I said, I can get you booked in for surgery by the end of the week and it’ll all be gone.”

Vox drew himself up from the bent position he’d had to take to put himself level with the doctor’s screen, beginning to dress himself and straighten his bow tie.

“Put a hold on that surgery, I’ll get back to you.”

And without a backwards glance, Vox strode out of the room, the baffled imp staring after him.

“Seriously!? Fine, but you’ll come back. They always do.”

Vox didn’t bother taking the front door. Hospitals always had cctv and all cctv hooked up VoxTec servers. It only took a couple of jumps to make it to the tower and another from the lobby to his personal quarters. Where he promptly folded over and hacked up a whole daffodil flower straight onto the floor. Vox sank to his knees and stared at it.

Three weeks.

He could find a solution in that time that didn’t involve cutting out his emotions entirely. Logically it made sense to but.. then his rivalry, whatever it was, he had with Alastor would never be the same. His drive to compete against the radio demon would be diminished if not extinguished entirely.

No.

That would be a last resort. He wasn’t going to let this infatuation get the better of him. 

Chapter 3

Notes:

(I will try to update tags accordingly but it's almost impossible to get the right ones on mobile so proceed with caution!)

Surgery was off the table, for now at least. That did leave Vox with an ever-looming deadline though. Along with the issue that his illness was only going to progress and become more obvious to the rest of Hell. Which really only left him with a few options. Drop out of the spotlight suddenly and cause rumours to start up, slip out of work more the worse be got and risk those same rumours as well as people noticing his illness or keep going until he literally dropped dead and have people definitely know about the flowers. In the moment he was leaning towards the middle option.

It was easy enough to keep up his on-screen work without arousing suspicion but the same couldn’t be said for being around his fellow Vees. Velvette, thankfully, couldn’t care less if he acted a bit off. No doubt she figured if it was important enough he’d tell her, she wasn’t there to play therapist to his and Val’s many fucked up personal problems.

Val however...

A couple of days after he’d returned from the doctor, Val seemed to decide for himself that Vox hadn’t shown any further signs of being sick and therefore was up for anything again. And since his favourite toy was busy with that stupid hotel, Val was feeling a bit needy. Okay, fuck it, he was downright horny.

Vox was lounging on the couch, casually flicking through channels of drone footage when Val sidled up to him, the moth’s slender fingers climbing his arm to squeeze at his shoulder.

“Do you have to do that right now? Can’t you do.. something else?”

Vox rolled his eyes, trying to focus on the screen flicking through the views of each of the drones he had dotted around the pride ring.

“Uh, I’m watching something.”

Val, undeterred as usual, just trailed his other hand down the overlord’s chest towards his belt buckle.

“Come on, culo perezoso. Just let me ride you. You can watch your stupid screens the whole time if you want.”

Most sane sinners with a healthy libido would jump at such an offer, but Vox just gave a non-committal groan and didn’t even glance at Val.

“Fine, fine. Do what you want.”

It wasn’t exactly unheard of for Vox to slip in and out of his moods. Some days he was more than happy to show off and bolster himself, others he barely bothered interacting outside of a script. Val was very much used to both and knew he could get sex regardless if he played his cards right. On Vox’s low days that meant doing pretty much all of the work himself.

Vox didn’t really take his eyes off the screen infront of him, though he could feel Val expertly unbuckling his belt with one hand. It wasn’t long before he was exposed, though he remained mostly clothed. It was very clear that Val was in it for some quick pleasure, he was only getting out what he needed, his hand coaxing Vox hard casually. That alone was enough for Vox to let his mind drift and flick mindlessly through the images of Hell’s streets. He shifted a little as Val straddled him, tilting his head slightly so the moth wouldn’t be in the way of his viewing. Vox didn’t expect much lead-up, Val knew what he wanted, so he wasn’t surprised when the other overlord lined himself up and lowered himself down onto Vox’s length with ease.

On another day Vox would have been exchanging filthy words with the moth, feigning adoration or giving genuine enthusiasm. Today he just sat back and let Val grind himself into his lap, Vox’s entire focus on lazily flicking through his system until....

Alastor.

Vox’s eyes widened a little, his drone picking up that familiar silhouette immediately as the cheerful radio demon strolled down the street, seemingly on a mission. The flash of red, the constant smile... Vox’s cock twitched. Val let out a appreciative groan, picking up the pace as he pressed his hands to Vox’s chest, gripping at his shirt.

“Nh, yes, like that, cariño! Do it again.”

Vox barely listened, his concentration taken up by the man on his screen. His drone edged closer, starting to follow Alastor’s route as Vox’s subconscious urged it to keep the deer in sight. He was close enough now that he could see Alastor’s ear twitch back. Did he know he was there? Could he sense him? Vox’s hips canted up at the thought. Val’s moans broke off into panting, frowning a bit as he glanced down to see Vox physically reciprocating but utterly distracted in a way that held obvious interest rather than boredom.

“Eh? What the fuck is so fascinating?”

Val paused and turned his head, his frown shifting to a look of disgust, tensing up.

“Him again!?”

Vox barely got a chance to explain himself as Val suddenly and harshly shoved himself out of Vox’s lap, ignoring his own continuing erection as he snapped down at Vox.

“Look, I don’t give a shit if you get off to that venado cabrona, I don’t even care if you stalk the fucker and jerk off to it. But not while you’re fucking me!”

Vox gave a faint wince as Val stormed off and slammed the door behind him. He was definitely going to have to deal with that later. But since he was already there... Vox took himself in hand, gaze returning to the screen, expecting to see the back of Alastor’s head where his drone had been following him. Instead, for a moment, he saw nothing. Just one of Hell’s streets, no radio demon. Had his drone lost him?

A mesh of black lines suddenly appeared over the drone’s camera as shadowy tendrils snatched it out of the sky, pulling it rapidly to the ground. For a second there was blackness until the tendrils parted to reveal Alastor, smirking at the camera from where he stood over it, Hell’s red sky glowing faintly behind him. Vox’s throat felt dry suddenly, like he’d swallowed a spoonful of flour and was trying desperately to keep it down. Alastor leaned in, the base of his microphone tapping under the broken drone’s camera lens to tilt it to capture his face better.

“Ah, hello, old friend. I see you still don’t understand boundaries. Perhaps I can make this a little more clear to you.”

The radio demon’s grin widened, Vox’s cctv screen glitching static at the edges as his eyes darkened and his horns grew out gradually.

“My craft is very different to yours. Mine requires people to enjoy listening, yours requires people to bother watching. So, do remember, just as you obviously don’t like to listen... I don’t like to be watched!”

Alastor’s microphone suddenly pulled back a few inches only to jab sharply forward, straight through the drone’s lens, cutting off all footage into pure television static. In that instant two things happened. Vox felt his throat clog up with that dry, suffocating sensation until it reached his mouth. With a desperate cough, Vox jerked his shoulders up, a whole flower-head getting caught behind his teeth for a second before being expelled with another harsh heave, landing straight on Vox’s waistcoat. Just in time for stripes of cum to paint the sunshine yellow petals with a perverted glaze.

Vox panted, the remnants of leftover petals sticking to the corners of his mouth as he felt his lungs constrict. It hurt so much, even in the afterglow of an orgasm. But the thought of cutting it all out, of seeing Alastor and feeling absolutely nothing, hurt more. He’d been slowly losing his drive over the years, his passion. Until Alastor returned. Then, like a switch had flicked in his head, Vox had been taking over his screens again. Idle gossip, diss shows, it didn’t matter what, now that Vox had his rival back he could finally feel like showing off again.

Only he wasn’t just showing off, was he? He’d fallen for the guy and now, after seven years going cold turkey, he’d dropped back into Vox’s life like nothing happened. Worse, like Vox didn’t matter. And here was Vox pining over him to the point of suffering.

He looked down at the mess he’d made with a depressive hint of revulsion. This was pathetic, he was pathetic. Doing nothing was clearly not working. Surgery was still a distant last resort. Maybe he needed to go on the offense. Get Alastor’s attention one way or another until the deer had to face him. He had two conflicting options there. Either he’d have to get in a big enough fight that he lost all feelings of love towards the deer. Or he’d have to convince Alastor to fall for him and admit it. One definitely seemed more impossible than the other, but what choice did he have.

He was going to woo the radio demon or die trying.

 

Chapter 4

Vox was truly screwed when it came to this plan of his. Mostly because there was no plan, and Vox had nobody to turn to for ideas. Certainly nobody who would help him. Val was still pissed off at him for letting his attention wander so obviously to Alastor mid-fuck and in all honesty the moth really wasn’t great at romance. Flattery and manipulation, he was up there among the best, but anything real or meaningful and you could forget it.

So, with no better way to try and get Alastor’s attention, Val resorted to the only method he had at his fingertips. Stalking. It was low and pathetic but his hell-wide surveillance was the only tool he had at hand. So whenever the radio demon was out and about, so were Vox’s drones. He spent hours practically glued to his screens, occasionally flitting through them to screens dotted across Hell in the areas Alastor frequented.

It was during one of those little viewing sessions that Vox spotted Alastor striding down the street, looking very much like he was on a mission. Unbeknownst to Vox, the radio demon had been given a list of things to get for Charlie’s newest bonding exercise and was still thoroughly pissed off that, rather than just summon everything himself, Lucifer had insisted on writing an obscenely long list to give to Alastor, most likely just to get him out of the hotel for a few hours. So, unfortunately for the media overlord, Alastor was absolutely not in the mood for his antics. Of course this meant Vox’s misguided attempts at flirting started off on a more wrong foot than they would have under ordinary circumstances.

Just as Alastor passed by an electronics store, Vox took the opportunity to plaster his face over every screen along Alastor’s path, shooting the radio demon a flirtatious smirk.

“Hey, walking all alone there?”

Alastor’s step barely faltered but Vox spotted one of the deer’s ears twitch back. Oh, he’d definitely heard him. Vox cleared his throat, speaking a little louder.

“Come on, you can’t tell me the company you keep at that pathetic hostel is better than a few moments with me.”

That had Alastor’s attention. Just not the kind Vox had been hoping for. Vox watched as the other demon turned his head sharply with a screech of radio static and, one after the other, his screens began to suddenly spark to static. It was a few blank screens in that Vox realised Alastor was spiking each TV from behind, one by one, with sharp tendrils of shadow. Vox was quickly running out of screens and found himself stuck with only two choices. Let Alastor destroy every screen in sight and risk losing track of the deer for the day, or make the leap through the network and meet Alastor face to face before he got the chance to.

Vox, foolish and desperate, picked the latter. With a spark of blue he’d zapped himself across half of Hell and right infront of Alastor. Just in time to dodge a shattered TV being thrown in his general direction. He wasn’t sure if it’d been intentional or if he’d just appeared in the wrong spot at the wrong time but either way it got the same automatic response.

“Uh, rude!”

It was clear from Alastor’s reaction that his words were being instantaneously disregarded. The radio demon didn’t care if he was being rude, he just wanted Vox’s head on a pike in that moment purely because he couldn’t have Lucifer’s. Alastor spun to face Vox properly, twirling his microphone once before clacking it’s base loudly against the pavement. Anyone left on the street who hadn’t already been deterred by the screen debris immediately began to evacuate. Regular sinners knew better than to get in the middle of an overlord turf war. Alastor narrowed his eyes at the demon who had drawn his ire.

“I’m feeling far too generous today. You have until I count to three.”

Usually such a threat was something to be taken seriously but Vox, foolish, desperate and distracted by the tickle of petals in his throat, completely ignored the warning.

“Is that a new suit? New haircut? You’re looking quite fetching today so something must be-..”

Alastor cut him off with a low tone, shadows starting to pool at his feet.

“One.”

Vox fumbled, stupidly stepping closer rather than away. Okay, flattery bad idea, noted. He still had plenty up his sleeve.

“You know there’s this new restaurant just around the corner I’ve been dying to-..”

Alastor’s antlers were branching out, heightening his silhouette menacingly.

“Two.”

Shit, bribery was also down the drain, what was left? Manipulation? Vox stepped forward again.

“Hey, look, just give me five minutes, I promise I’ll make it worth your whi-..”

Alastor’s shadows erupted from around him, curling tendrils into the air like an upturned octopus.

“Three!”

The tendrils seemed to stand to attention for a split second before lunging at Vox. The intent was clear. Alastor planned on having his screen join the debris littering the street. Vox reacted instinctively. He stumbled back a step, raising his arms across one another to protect his screen. Then, almost in a mirror to Alastor’s shadows, cables pulled from Vox’s back, shooting out either side of him to meet each of Alastor’s tendrils head on. He hadn’t intended on making this a fight but he wasn’t exactly going to let himself get skewered either.

Alastor seemed more than happy to take out his annoyance on his conveniently proximate rival, his tight smile unmoving as he had his shadows pull back only to dart towards the flailing sinner over and over.

Vox bit back multiple curses as he sidestepped, dodged and even risked grabbing one shadow mid-stab, blue electricity shooting through it just long enough for it to jerk back. Alastor, casual amongst the chaos, just started walking forward again, his eyes fixed on Vox.

“Well, you wanted my attention, old friend. Now you finally have it.”

Vox was beginning to panic now. He could defend himself as much as he liked but every step Alastor took to close the distance only had that horribly scratchy feeling in his throat building more, threatening to spill over with every breath. Vox edged back a step.

“Oh, well.. it’s really not that important..”

He went to put more distance between them when he felt a sharp tug on his back and noticed, with a sickening realisation, that every one of his cables was tangled with one of Alastor’s tendrils. They were effectively deadlocked and Alastor was closing the gap between them step by step.

“Au contraire, I believe it’s much more important than you’re letting on.”

Vox’s heart was pounding now. His lungs constricted as his throat began to fill with dry petals. If he started coughing up flowers in the middle of the street, right infront of Alastor, he’d be screwed. Everyone would find out his secret. He’d be forever known as the overlord foolish enough to fall in love with the radio demon. Vox’s eyes darted around, looking desperately for an escape. Shit, no cameras left. No screens either. Alastor’s shadows had been diligent in their destruction. He only had one option left and could only hope it arrived in time. Alastor, however, didn’t seem to be quite as rushed.

“Something has been off, ever since that meeting. I’m sure you thought I wouldn’t notice but really, you are quite transparent. “

The petals were starting to push up over his tongue, building against the roof of his mouth. Vox twitched as he barely held back a gag, eyes flicking from Alastor to anywhere but Alastor. He had to focus, concentrate. Which was increasingly hard to do as Alastor kept getting closer, only a few steps away now. Vox’s cables trembled at the effort of holding back each of Alastor’s shadows. The radio demon's smile widened, sharp teeth bared menacingly.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Vox’s shoulders raised, tense in a vain effort to hold back the impending torrent of flowers. Alastor was barely a step away, just within touching distance. Vox’s gaze lifted as he heard the faint hum of his saviour. A single, solitary drone. Vox’s eyes dropped to meet Alastor’s briefly before, in a spark of blue, he zapped straight through the technology. Alastor’s freed up tendrils immediately shattered the annoying buzzy little spy.

Alastor himself, however, was a little preoccupied by the appearance of something else. Just as Vox managed to escape through his own tech, a few bright yellow petals floated down into the spot where the overlord had been standing. Alastor bent at the hip, dismissing his shadows as he picked up the flora between his fingertips.

“...interesting.”

Somewhere on the other side of Hell, Vox was on his hands and knees in his office, violently hacking up flower after flower until blood was dripping off his screen.

Fuck, that was too close...