Enjoy Your Stay~! (Hazbin Hotel x Reader Onshots)

Alastor x Singer!Reader (The Sound of Music)

Your POV:

You packed up the last of your things, fingers hesitating as you came to your songwriting book. So many lyrics derived straight from the heart. They were important to you, special... just not special enough to pay the bills.

The landlord had no mercy whatsoever, digging out every penny from your pocket until you had nothing left to give, and was kicked out. A scowl adorned your face; you didn't want to stay in his shoddy mold infested apartment complex anyway, but it was a far less frightening alternative to the streets. You shuddered slightly, hoping deep down that the perverts would simply not notice you. As long as you kept to a secluded area in some unoccupied alleyway, you would be fine... hopefully.

Not having much to your name in the first place, you swung the strap of your guitar over your shoulder and carried the box down the stairs. The landlord, busily and with an everlasting snarl on his face, held the door for you. Without even looking, you walked through it and yelped with shock as he held his foot out, tripping you through the doorway and causing the box to drop and scatter across the pavement. The door slammed harshly, and you cursed bitterly.

Could this day get any worse?

Almost as if replying to your rhetorical question, the sky suddenly crackled with thunder. You felt the water droplets begin to hit you and panicked, scrambling to get what little things of importance you had back into the box safe and sound. Soon, it was pouring. But that was okay... the rain was actually rather calming. Your only concern was finding a dry place where you could wipe off your guitar before the wood could be damaged.

And so you hurried through the rain, drenched and scanning every possible location discreetly until you found an empty alley with a large dumpster that would be good for concealing yourself away from the sight of others should you do desire. Thankfully, as you neared it, it seemed nobody else had yet laid claim on the area.

With a dejected sigh, you mumbled, "Home sweet home..." And laid against the brick wall. The roof of the left-hand building, thankfully, was built in such a way that it reached a few feet past the walls themselves, giving you and your guitar some shelter from the rain.

After wiping it down, you grabbed your pick and decided to play a little song to soothe the realization that you were once again homeless. As you strummed across the strings and began to sing softly, closing your eyes, the music lulled your mind into a state of content. It was restful, beautiful music. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one who seemed to take notice of it...

Alastor:

"Well, that's all folks! Tune in next time, and remember, you're never fully dressed without a smile~!" He turned the microphone off and leaned back with a sense of satisfaction, while the workers at the radio station fumbled nervously to make certain everything was in check.

Alastor rolled his eyes as the maintenance boy plugged the auxiliary cord into the wrong outlet and then paled, trying to find the right one without making it seem as though he had no clue what he was doing. Honestly, what would any of these people do without him? The entire show revolved around his commentary. His music. His personality, so to speak.

However, being too bored to enter such trifles as teaching them all to do their jobs correctly, he simply got up and left the recording booth. It was becoming more difficult to hold his attention, as the world around him and everyone in it became dull and uninteresting. Only thing he really took pleasure out of anymore was his station and the occasional opportunity to brutally strangle some unfortunate passerby and watch them squirm in agony.

Where had all the fun of his first years in Hell gone? He wanted something new, something to inspire him again. But he highly doubted anything of the sort would happen. He supposed the radio station and power would have to satisfy him on their own.