Chapter Text
The three Vees returned to business as usual since their failed attempt to infiltrate the Hazbin Hotel. Vox sat in his surveillance room, watching the demons of Pentagram City use his various products. As he took a sip from his mug, his phone rang, and he nearly spit out his coffee when he saw your circular contact picture pop up on the screen. He had your name as “Ex-Wife (Crazy Bitch)” in his contacts. You had agreed to rule your sections of hell separately and stay out of each other’s way on one condition.
Vox declined your call, knowing why you wanted to speak to him, only for Velvette to call him soon after. He accepted her call and put it on his large, middle screen.
“Vox,” Velvette said firmly. “Your psycho ex-wife is here.”
“Tell her I’m not here.”
“I did.”
“Call security.”
“I did! She fucking turned them into pies!”
“Fuck.”
Vox heard the sound of spells in the background, and Velvette turned her head. You marched through the lobby to the elevator while pies littered the floor.
“Hey! —I’ll fucking call you back.”
Velvette ended the call, and Vox’s screens switched to the various surveillance cameras in V Tower, but you were nowhere to be found. You appeared in a pink bubble behind him and gently floated down until it popped. You then walked forward and put your hands on your hips. Vox cursed under his breath before spinning around in his chair and throwing out his arms.
“Y/N, baby! You look… Exactly the same as the last time I saw you…”
The knee-length dress, white apron, white pearls, and high heels were the standard for a housewife from the 1950s. Though you were no longer married, you hadn’t changed your appearance in over 70 years. Vox, on the other hand, changed his look every decade or so, keeping up with the latest trends.
“You canceled my show, Vox. My fucking cooking show!”
“Newsflash, sweetheart, no one eats meatloaf anymore.”
“We had a deal. You give me a show, and I stay the fuck away from you!”
Vox leaned back in his chair and put his sharp fingers together before pointing them at you. He liked to think he held all the cards now that he controlled a majority of the news and media in hell.
“How do I put this delicately… Your show fucking sucked. The ratings were shit. I should have canned it a long time ago.”
“Put my show back on the air or else.”
“You think I’m fucking scared of you?” Vox said with a breathless chuckle. “What are you gonna do? Poison me again?”
You continued to scowl at him as he held his armrests with a sharp-toothed grin. It was true; he made a murderer of you.
“I should thank you because arriving in hell was the best thing that ever happened to me! Look at me! I’m at the fucking top!”
Your ex-husband spread out his arms as the digital blood fell from the corner of his mouth. He and his screens sparked with electricity while you looked at him, unimpressed with his attempt to show off.
“You’re an egomaniacal man-child fighting with a demon twice as powerful as you,” you quipped. “I saw your little tantrum; everyone did.”
Vox lost his grin and put his arms down as you folded your arms with a smirk. Calling Alastor “twice as powerful” was the part that irked him most of all.
“Fuck you.”
Vox turned around in his chair to face his screens as your grin widened. You knew all the buttons to press to get the reaction you wanted.
“He’s right, you know. You’re not as big and powerful as you think you are.”
Vox and his screens sparked again as he dug his claws into his armrests with his left eye spiraling. It was debatable which one of you was the more powerful Overlord. Vox liked to think it was him, but you had yet to show him the extent of your power. He calmed down and decided to give in if it meant you would leave him alone.
“You want your show back? Improve the ratings.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Uhhh, by being entertaining instead of a fucking snoozefest. Either get a co-host or get naked.”
You weren’t thrilled about sharing your show with anyone, but it was better than getting canceled. Having someone to make light conversation with and exchange banter could make things more interesting.
“Fine. I’ll get a co-host.”
You turned and walked away as Vox turned halfway around in his chair. He found you particularly attractive when you were angry at him.
“Actually, I like the other idea better.”
You ignored your ex-husband’s pathetic pass at you and continued down the long walkway. He turned around fully to watch you go with some nostalgia.
When you were gone, he turned around and plugged himself into the monitors. He projected a memory onto the screen, which was in black and white. You were in the vintage kitchen preparing dinner when he threw open the door.
“Honey, I’m home!”
The sound of an audience cheering and clapping played in the background as you came out of the kitchen. You looked the same as a human except for your new demon characteristics. You pecked him on the lips and then wrapped your arms around his neck with a soft smile. He held your waist with one hand while the other held his briefcase.
“How was work, dear?”
“You know showbusiness.”
The laugh track played as he stole another kiss and then mirrored your smile. You grabbed his tie to loosen it for him and noticed a smudge on the collar of his white buttoned shirt.
“Oh. You have lipstick on your collar.”
“Are you sure it’s not ketchup?”
Vox grabbed his tie and turned away quickly as the laugh track played. You put both of your hands on your hips and cocked your head to the side.
“Have you been cheating on me again?”
The laugh track played as Vox nervously chuckled to himself. He then turned around and threw out his arms.
“Of course not! You know I only have eyes for you, sweetheart.”
The fictitious audience said, “Aww,” while Vox grabbed one of your hands and kissed it. His sweet words didn’t have you convinced since you heard them before.
“That’s what you said last time.”
“But I mean it this time!”
The laugh track played as you slipped your hand out of his and slapped the air. It was the same story every day.
“Oh, you! Now, go wash up for dinner.”
Vox gave you one final kiss before you took his briefcase from him, and he went to the bathroom. He washed his hands, looked into the round mirror, and loosened his tie. He had perfectly styled slicked-back dark hair, and his skin was pale. He turned his head from side to side, admiring his sharp facial features. He soon came out of the bathroom, still wearing his pinstriped suit, and sat down at the kitchen table. You served him his meatloaf and mashed potatoes and stood on the side to watch him eat. He eagerly cut into spongey meat with his fork and then put it into his mouth.
“How’s the meatloaf, honey?”
“Great, honey!”
Your husband continued to eat the food you made and washed it down with his liquor. Halfway through the dinner, he started to feel nauseous and coughed. Looking into his palm, he saw bright red blood and then looked up at you with a horrified expression.
“I’m so glad you like my new recipe,” you said with a sinister smile. “The secret ingredient is arsenic!”
The laugh track played as Vox continued to cough up blood until his last breath. In the present, Vox stared at the screen that turned to static, unhappy with the tragic end to his marriage.
In the Hazbin Hotel, Niffty, the little maid, sat on a sofa kicking her legs, waiting for her regularly scheduled program. Alastor walked by but stopped when you came onto the screen in the vintage 1950s kitchen in black and white.
“Hello, my little cooks and killers!” You greeted the audience warmly. “Before we start cooking, I have a special announcement. I am currently looking for a co-host to roast, baste, and boil! Come on and stop by Unpleasantville if you’re interested. My door is always open!”
Alastor recognized you as the Overlord of Unpleasantville, but he was unaware that you had your own show. It was surprising for Vox to broadcast something decent and old-fashioned.
“Niffty, what is this charming culinary picture show?”
“This is Cooking with Y/N! It’s my favorite show!”
Alastor remained to watch for a little longer as Niffty grinned. You wore a wide smile as you always did on television.
“With that said, let’s get cooking! Today, we will be making rat poison pie! Let’s start by making the dough.”
You snapped your fingers to make a bowl, sack of flour, and eggs appear. You instructed the audience to measure one cup of flour and add it to the bowl. Alastor lost interest and headed towards the door, but Niffty quickly zipped in front of him, looking up expectantly.
“Alastor, I really really want to go to Unpleasantville. Can you take me? Please?”
“Oh Niffty, wouldn’t you rather take a nice little trip to Cannibal Town? Hm?”
“Pleaaaaaseee? I really really want Ms. Y/N to taste my rat poison pie!”
Alastor narrowed his eyes with a closed-mouth smile as he looked down at Niffty. She continued to look up at him with one big eye, interlocking her fingers.
“Pleeeeeaaaaassssseeeee?”
Alastor lifted his head and gave in, having a soft spot for the small sinner. He turned around and walked off toward the kitchen.
“Very well,” Alastor said. “Come along, Niffty.”
Niffty gasped and excitedly followed Alastor into the kitchen to copy the recipe. In Unpleasantville, Niffty wore oven mitts, holding onto the pot they cooked the pie in. Alastor led the way through the 1950s-themed town to the residential suburb. The houses all looked the same, with white picket fences and an old-fashioned car in every driveway. The swimming pools were filled with nuclear waste, and many of the residents had a zombified appearance. The men mowed the lawn while the women came out of the houses wearing aprons and holding sharp knives with sinister smiles. The hellborn children played jump rope and hopscotch in the streets.
“I like it here, Alastor,” Niffty said happily. “Everyone seems really friendly!”
Alastor remained silent as he approached your home with a bright blue car in the driveway and walked up the stairs. He pressed the doorbell and then stood with both of his hands on his microphone cane. Niffty stood next to him with the pie in her hands and waited with a smile. You opened the door and were surprised to find the smiling Radio Demon on your doorstep.
“Oh— Alastor,” you said, wide-eyed. “What can I do for you?”
“Niffty and I were in the neighborhood and thought we stop by and say, “Hello!” ”
“Well— This is certainly a pleasant surprise…”
“Please accept this rat poison pie!” Niffty yelled, holding up the pot. “We made it for you!”
“How sweet…”
You took the pot from Niffty that was now cool to the touch. You smiled down at her, finding her adorable, and then looked back up at Alastor.
“Would you like to come in?” You asked Alastor.
“I suppose we could spare a moment for two.”
You entered the house, Niffty walked right behind you, and Alastor closed the door. The two demons followed you into the kitchen, where you set the pie on the counter.
“I wasn’t expecting company, so please forgive the mess.”
Alastor turned his head to find that the home was immaculate, with not a spec of dust in sight. Niffty was delighted to be in your beautiful home and couldn’t stop smiling up at you.
“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” You asked them. “Soda? Root beer? Milkshake? I’ve got it all.”
You snapped your fingers and made a round tray appear with a variety of beverages that you offered to Alastor. He looked down at all the sugary drinks with a closed-mouth smile.
“No, thank you,” Alastor said politely. “I’ll have a black coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
You snapped your fingers again to make the round tray of beverages disappear. A black coffee on a small round plate appeared on the countertop, and you handed it to Alastor.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip. “Perfectly bitter— Just the way I like it.”
“I want a strawberry milkshake!” Niffty yelled, throwing her arms into the air. “With whipped cream and lots and lots of rainbow sprinkles!”
You snapped your fingers and made a milkshake with whipped cream and extra rainbow sprinkles appear in her hands. She happily sucked on the white and red straw in the milkshake as you walked out of the kitchen.
“Come,” you told them. “Let’s talk in the living room.”
You led the two demons into the living room and gestured for them to sit on the comfortable couch. You sat down in a cushioned chair across from them with a short wooden coffee table and a box television between you.
“So, you two watch my show?” You asked them. “Rat poison pie is my recipe.”
“Niffty watches it,” Alastor clarified. “Though I do dabble in the culinary arts from time to time.”
“You cook?”
“Oh yes, mother taught me. I sure do miss her cooking…”
Alastor took a sip of his coffee, reminiscing about his favorite home-cooked meals. You thought maybe the answer to your problems had arrived on your doorstep.
“I am looking for a co-host… Would you be interested?”
“Haha— I’m flattered, but this face was made for radio.”
Alastor grinned and cocked his head to the side with red voodoo symbols briefly appearing around him. You turned your attention to Niffty, who was drinking her milkshake.
“What about you, sweetheart?” You asked Niffty. “Would you like to co-host with me?”
“I’m afraid Niffty suffers from a bit of stage fright,” Alastor explained. “She tends to freeze up in front of the camera.”
After sighing, you snapped your fingers to make a teacup and bottle of liquor appear in the air. You poured the liquor into the teacup, stirred it with the spoon, and then tapped the side of the cup. Another snap made the liquor bottle disappear, and you took a sip of the boozy tea.
“I need to find a co-host and fast, or my darling ex-husband is going to cancel my show for good.”
“Oh?” Alastor said, interested. “Do tell.”
“Vox and I were married for seven years, and he was an ungrateful bastard every day of his miserable life,” you revealed. “So, I killed him and sent him straight to hell. When I got to hell, we agreed to stay away from each other, and I asked him for a show. Now, he wants to cancel it because of the ratings.”
Alastor took a sip of his coffee and smiled while listening to you spill the tea on Vox. You sipped your tea and recalled all the aggravating things about your marriage.
“He thought he was a real big shot because he worked in television,” you continued. “You know, when I met him, he was just a used car salesman with big talk and big dreams. He was always telling me we were going to have it all— money, cars, everything and anything. He owed a lot of money to a lot of people— mostly loan sharks— I swear if I didn’t kill him, someone else would have.”
You felt silly for believing in him when no one else did and even sillier for falling in love with him. He was never satisfied and always wanted more, but you were content with a simple life.
“You would think he would have been better in bed with all the practice he had outside of our marriage,” you said, venting. “I had to exaggerate my orgasms just so his enormous ego wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Oh-ho, Niffty, it was a wonderful idea to come here,” Alastor said, amused.
“He was so controlling— Everything was about him— I cooked for him, I cleaned for him, and look at how he thanked me.”
Alastor and Niffty continued to smile while you took another sip of tea. Vox appeared on the box television to watch you.
“And the amount of time he spent in front of the mirror… He should have just married himself…”
Alastor was aware Vox was present and took a sip of coffee while smiling. Vox sparked with anger and clenched his sharp teeth.
“Alastor!” Vox yelled. “What are you doing in my ex-wife’s house!?”
“Oh, look,” Alastor teased. “The noisy picture box turned on.”
“Vox!” You yelled. “Alastor is my house guest, and how dare you spy on me!”
“What the hell are you doing with Alastor!?”
“It’s my house, and it’s none of your damn business!”
Alastor placed his coffee cup on the table and stood up, holding his cane. The loud voice of his rival annoyed him, and he had quite enough of him already.
“Well, this was fun,” Alastor commented. “But I think it’s time we head back to the hotel.”
Niffty put her milkshake glass onto the coffee table and stood up as well. You put your teacup down and got up as Alastor approached you.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Y/N,” Alastor said, taking your hand. “We really should get together like this more often.”
Alastor kissed your hand, surprising you and making you blush. Vox sparked with anger, and his left eye spiraled.
“Alastor!” Vox yelled. “You o-o-old fashioned asshole!”
The Television Demon buffered as the Radio Demon walked away with a smug smile. Niffty gave you a curtsy and then followed Alastor out of the home while you watched them go. Vox traveled through the television, appearing in your living room, and folded his arms.
“Stay the fuck away from Alastor.”
“You can’t control what I do, Vox. We’re not married anymore.”
“You want your show back, right?”
“If I can’t get a co-host, you’re just going to cancel it anyway.”
“You know what— I got your co-host, baby. Me.”
“You!? No! This is my fucking show, Vox! You’re not taking it over.”
Vox took control of your show and wasted no time making changes to improve the ratings. It would be filmed in a modern studio with a contemporary kitchen, instead of your outdated home. It would be broadcast in color instead of black and white, and the show would be live, not pre-recorded. He also informed you casually on the set that he had taken the liberty to change the name of the show. He stood beside you behind the kitchen counter and fixed his bowtie as a demon patted your cheek with a powder puff.
“Cooking with Vox and Y/N?” You said, annoyed. “Are you fucking serious?”
“It has a nice ring to it, right?”
“Why is your name first?”
“Uh, because it’s my fucking station.”
“Vox isn’t even your real name! It’s—”
The name you said was drowned out by a loud bleep sound that came from your ex-husband. You turned toward him, he turned toward you, and the makeup artist ran off the set.
“Did you just fucking censor me!?”
You said his real name a second time and was censored with a bleep again. You emitted a powerful demonic energy and clutched your fists. The cameraman pointed the camera at you and Vox and put up five fingers. He said, “We’re on in five,” and then began to count backward.
“Fuck you!” You yelled.
“Fuck you!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“FUCK YOU!!!”
Vox stared down at you, his fists clenched, and his left eye spiraled. You stared up at him with your eyes glowing with hatred. The cameraman pointed at both of you and started rolling. You instantly turned toward the camera with big fake smiles and a false sense of composure.
“Hello, Pentagram City!” Vox said in an upbeat voice. “I am SO happy to be joined by my co-host, Ms. Y/N.”
“Oh, not as happy as I am, Mr. Vox.”
“So, what are we cooking today!?”
“Today, we’re going to make my ex-husband’s favorite dish. Meatloaf with arsenic and mashed potatoes!”
Vox sparked but maintained his sharp smile while looking straight into the camera. You continued to smile while looking into the camera with some satisfaction.
“It’s to die for! Right, Vox?”
The live audience chuckled, and Vox reminded himself not to fly off the handle on live television. If you wanted to be passive-aggressive, then he would do the same.
“That’s a classic dish— but I think the viewers are tired of the same old recipes. I know I am!”
“You’ll get tired of the same old anything because you have the attention span of a toddler!”
“At least I’m not an old hag stuck in the past!”
You snapped your head toward Vox as he put his hands on his hips. The live audience laughed, enjoying the banter. In the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor sat in a chair with a wide smile, watching the show. Niffty sat on the floor with a matching grin, Angel Dust, Charlie, and Vaggie sat on the couch, and Husk and Sir Pentious stood on either side of the couch.
“How very entertaining!” Alastor chirped.
In V Tower, Valentino and Velvette sat on separate couches, watching the show. Valentino held his long cigarette with the red smoke wafting into the air and Velvette held her phone. Demons across the rings of hell turned on their televisions to watch both of you insult each other. Vox made witty comments to keep the audience entertained while you made your meatloaf. The recipe called for one pound of ground beef, one egg, one chopped onion, bread crumbs, salt, pepper, ketchup, and a generous amount of arsenic. You held the pan and stood next to the oven while looking into the camera.
“Now we’re going to put this in the oven for forty minutes, which is enough time to call your mother and tell her she was right about you marrying a sleazeball!”
The audience laughed while you continued to smile, and Vox opened the oven for you. He turned toward the camera while smiling as well.
“Or you could call your local hospital so they can come put your wife in a straight jacket because she’s a total fucking nutcase!”
The audience laughed again as you put the deadly meatloaf into the oven and slammed the door shut. You turned back toward the camera with your smile as Vox maintained his smile.
“Maybe she wouldn’t be a nutcase if her whore of a husband didn’t fuck half the town, including the milkman!”
Vox, the electric stove, and other appliances in the kitchen sparked while the audience laughed. In V Tower, Valentino took a puff of his cigarette and blew out the smoke while Velvette’s mouth was agape.
“Oh,” Valentino said.
Vox chuckled breathlessly, trying to stay in control of the situation. You put your hands on your hips, still smiling into the camera.
“That’s because the only thing drier than her meatloaf is her pussy!”
You lost your smile as the potatoes boiling in the pot exploded, and the lid flew off. Grabbing a knife on the countertop, you turned toward Vox with your eyes glowing, powerful demonic energy radiating from you. Vox walked backward and then gestured for them to cut the broadcast. A message with Vox smiling came on the screen that said, “We are experiencing technical difficulties; please stand by!” accompanied by a high-pitched ringing. The live audience continued to laugh as you tried to kill your ex-husband a second time. He traveled through the appliances and arrived safely in his surveillance room.
“Vox!” You yelled in a deep, demonic voice. “Get back here this instant!”
Vox stared at your angry expression on his screen, a little afraid of your power. A call from his assistant popped up, which he accepted.
“Mr. Vox,” his assistant said. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“What now?”
“Viewership of the live program skyrocketed— Almost everyone in hell tuned in. Currently, this is your most popular show.”
“You’re fucking joking…”
Vox checked the ratings himself and compared them to his other programs. The graphs and charts showed a spike in viewership about halfway through the live special. Though the whole thing was a disaster, it was still a success. Together, you were comedy gold, and that meant ratings. After the broadcast, you returned to your home in Unpleasantville feeling mortified. Angrily, you vacuumed the living room, gritting your teeth, cursing out your ex-husband in your head. He appeared on the box television, and your vacuum suddenly stopped working.
“Good news,” Vox said. “I saved your show.”
“You didn’t save it, Vox. You turned it into a fucking joke.”
“So? The people fucking love it! They love us!”
You turned the dial on the television to turn him off, and the screen went black. Vox then traveled through your television. He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips as you folded your arms.
“We have chemistry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not.”
“Chemistry? You call that chemistry?”
“You’re still hot for me; admit it.”
Your eyes widened and then narrowed as Vox grinned with satisfaction. He knew exactly what to say to push your buttons as well.
“That has to be THE MOST ridiculous, idiotic, demented thing you have EVER said to me!”
After a long silence, you grabbed the collar of his suit, pulling him into a demanding kiss. Your tongue tingled as you fought against his digital tongue. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes, feeling the heat of his screen and the warmth of his body.
“I hate you so fucking much.”
You released his collar, pushed him onto the couch, and then pounced on him. Vox sparked with excitement as you kissed passionately. He held your waist as you held his shoulders.
“I hate you too, baby.”
You resumed kissing and rubbed your clothed sex against Vox’s crotch, making him harden. He grinned with the digital blood falling from the corner of his mouth.
“Just shut up and let me fuck you— that’s all you’re fucking good for anyway.”
“Heh. Hey, I’m not stopping you— I know how much you love my cock.”
“Oh please, I’ve had dildos more satisfying than you.”
Vox sparked with anger, and you breathlessly chuckled at his reaction. You stopped rubbing yourself against him and snapped your fingers to make your underwear disappear. Raising your body, you allowed Vox to unzip his pants, freeing his erection. You then sat back down on his lap with a gasp, penetrating yourself. Your arousal made it easy for him to slide in. He was larger than you remembered but still felt familiar.
“Fuck— You wanted this for a while, didn’t you? Whore.”
You wrapped your hands around his skinny neck and squeezed while gritting your teeth. He smiled, digital blood falling from the corner of his mouth, and he wrapped his hands around your neck. A spark of electricity ran through your body, making you gasp and then moan. You then began to vigorously move against him as he squeezed your neck while you squeezed his. All of the anger you had toward each other only intensified during the act. You choked out a moan and felt stronger shocks inside you as the lights flickered. One strong shock shot through you along with his release, and you both threw your heads back with a gasp. You released each other’s necks and panted heavily with the excitement and resentment dying down.