#chay just assumes

[the-cookie-of-doom]

I'm so tired I'm about two brainwaves away from being declared medically braindead. What if I took this time to write a vampire AU idea I had last night?

Chay sells himself to be vampire!Kim's bloodwhore, getting jealous over Kim's other (imaginary, nonexistent) victims. Kim is just here trying to live his life, he did not sign up for this. But he's gotta admit, Chay is really cute when he gets all worked up and feisty over the (again! nonexistent!) other people Kim must be feeding on.

[vani-ash]

KP X DFF AU

(Takes place around events of ep 7 DFF and end of Kinnporsche)

(inspired by I re-watched ep6 of DFF and somehow missed that they sing TSICY on their way to Pors house on my first watch)

Somehow Non and Chay run into each other and they look identical. Chay, wanting to have some time away from the mafia he's become apart of, comes up with the idea after hearing Nons story to switch places. Non is reluctant at first but when Chay promises he can help solve Nons problems he agrees (Non doesn't fully trust Chay and leaves out some details like Mr Keng and Phee).

Chay has a Theerapanyakul mafia ring that he uses when the mafia guys come after him to get them to leave him alone, he also has access to mafia money that he tries to use to help Nons family as much as he can without causing suspicion. Chay is disgusted by how Nons 'friends’ treat him but Non had said he wanted to finish his movie so Chay plays along with them for now.

And Then whatever happens causing Non to disappear happens to Chay instead.

Non was told by Chay that if he went to the compound he’d be able to just walk in, he’s nervous but he does and when he’s engulfed in a hug by a stranger he feels a little better. He recognizes the man from a photo Chay had shown him, Porsche, who was worried because Chay disappeared and lost his bodyguards for a few hours.

Chay had told Non that he wasn’t speaking to his brother or anyone else really so if he did nothing but stay in Chays room the whole time he’d be fine and no one would question or really bother him.

Then Non gets a knock on his door, it’s Kim, he was trying to apologize to Chay about his song being stolen and that it wasn't him that released it and he didn’t mean for it to happen.

(Someone on Kims team finds a demo Kim made of Chays song (tsicy) when he was helping Chay record it, and releases it under Wiks name without Kim’s consent. Because Kim hasn’t released any new music since his break up with Chay and his company wants new music from him.)

Non feels bad about how distraught Kim sounds, and lets him in. Kim hadn’t expected for Chay to actually let him in, it’s been a month since Kim had been this close to Chay and so the first thing he does on impulse is hugs him. Non, currently still processing the worst week of his life, doesn’t push Kim away causing Kim to kiss him.

Anyway Kim somehow finds out that it wasn’t Chay who forgave him and that Non isn't Chay and demands Non tell him where Chay actually is and when they show back up everyone is confused (because they killed him like 3 weeks ago or something) and is like WTF?! But when Non just acts like nothing happened they don’t bring it up, and so now Non and Kim have to figure out what happened to Chay.

[mangled-by-disuse]

so one of the things that annoys me endlessly is this phenomenon where, when I say I like something, people assume that means I want more of it, a different version of it, add-ons and bells and whistles, and i'm just like

no.

no, when I say I like tea, I mean I like tea. Not herbal tisanes, not "tea with--", no milk, no sugar, no fruit, no frills, just good-quality tea in a range of fermentations and colours.

when I say I like a hot bath, I mean the bath. Not bubble-bath, not bath oils and foams and salves and unguents, not candlelight and music and a zen space to sensually relax with a book and a glass of wine, just a hot bath in a normally-lit bathroom where I can unwind and get clean.

when I say I like beer, I mean I like beer. Not fruit-flavoured, not with a special something-something added, for the love of GOD not sweetie-flavoured, just a well-brewed ale or stout in a simple pint glass, in good company.

and that isn't because there's anything WRONG with the add-ons! these are not bad things! I know that for some people, a tea advent calendar with different herbal blends, or a luxurious foamy scented bath with candles and music, is what they mean by "I like tea" and "I like baths". but it would just be nice if when I asked for a green tea, people didn't assume I mean "with..."

anyway this post is about lord of the rings: war of the rohirrim

[stinklebug]

potentially a hot take, but i think that chai's player isn't limited to songs that he downloaded onto it before it became part of him.

a lot of ppl cite chai saying "Does this mean I can't download anymore songs onto it?" during some optional dialogue as meaning that it is limited. but chai doesn't rlly know how it functions now that it's part of him. nobody does. i read that line as him either just making an assumption, or being sad abt the fact that he can't rlly listen to whatever specific song that he wants at any given moment anymore

the reason i think it's limitless in what songs can play is mostly bc a Lot of the songs that play throughout the game r very specific to whatever situation/environment he's in.

idk abt u, but i don't buy that chai would just happen to have a song titled 'Welcome to Qa' downloaded on his ipod that perfectly fits the vibes of the place he's in.

does this mean that it makes songs??? sure, that's entirely possible. if it has unlimited access to music, what's stopping it from making its own? in fact, honestly, that makes more sense than him having a song called 'Heatwave (VARRT Mix)' already on his ipod when he didn't even know varrt existed before

to note: i do think some of the songs were ones he downloaded onto it before everything, but a lot of them it just. doesn't rlly make sense to me for him to have those bc of how specific they r

[chayscribbles]

that's it i'm gonna f*nish this draft today if it kills me

[soyforramen]

Love that we've come full circle so that actual psychological coping tools I learned in CBT are now being used by the vibrations and energy crowds.

*he's a little confused but he's got the spirit.jpg*

[farfromstrange]

I don't want drama so much😭😭😭I just want comfort for our kitty, give him love pls...

Listen.

LISTEN.

I know I said “this will be a fluffy miniseries to give Mikey some comfort” and I will.

It’s just a rocky road.

Me: This will be hurt/comfort MIKEY NEEDS TO BE HAPPY!!!

My brain: But what about–

Me: HAPPY 👏🏻 H A P P Y

My brain: Angst :)

Me: NO!

My brain: Angsssstttt 🐍

Me: Okay, okay, maybe a little–

Everyone else:

Me:

Everyone else:

Me:

But–

Don’t worry, darling 😉

There will be a little bit of angst, but there will also be a happy ending. A very happy and very pleasant ending. And he will get the comfort he deserves 🫶🏻 I promise. Pinky promise.

I know I abused that angst button a little, but there won’t be drama of the kind you might be expecting now. I’m reserving that for when I decide to continue the series…

HE WILL BE HAPPY OKAY HE WILL BE HE IS GOING TO BE WE ARE GOING TO LOVE HIM VERY MUCH AND HE IS GOING TO BE HAPPY

I’m sorry for any heart attacks I might have caused or will be caused in the future.

[littleragondin]

Ooookay so I need to know if there is a Tian Song protection squad, and if so how can I join and do we get a cool badge. He's such a sweetheart?? No one should be allowed to make him cry????

[poooooooooao3]

That's a lot of effort going in to alter facts for a group that claims to be telling the truth

Source

[nightingale-prompts]

Just your average coffee shop AU-DCxDP prompt

What do you do when you've been blacklisted from every coffee chain in Gotham?

You have to find other sources.

That is Tim's current predicament but he put out a few messages out and an informant got back to him about a new café that opened on the outskirts of the city.

There wasn't much else on it other than the fact that it was located in an old cemetery. No details or anything.

Desperate for the black icker that made up his blood by this point Tim went.

Walking down the cobblestone path Tim began to doubt if the shop was real. The decrepit tombstones seemed to be the only people here but as he passed the mausoleums he saw a single stone crypt that had a sign.

Hours:

Tues-Saturday 12pm-3:00 am

Sunday: All day

Mon: Closed

(Vlad Masters is banned)

Tim opened the stone door and heard the faint sound of violins and saxophones. A staircase led deeper to an aged wooden door.

The rusty door henge screeched as he opened the door like a doorbell. The room was a lounge with plush seats and smooth wood tables. A dance floor was in the center currently occupied by well dressed patrons. The scent of fresh dark roast coffee filled the air. A band played live music, it was a blend of gothic folk and Jazz. The booths were filled with a few patrons cheering for the performers as they drank coffee and played cards.

The counter where he could order his drink was a bar. Despite what you'd assume they weren't selling alcohol at least not yet. The man behind the counter beckoned him over.

The barista dressed in a white dress shirt and a black buttoned vest embroidered with a ribcage design. He had fingerless gloves with matching skeletal hand design. The man's face was a pale bit warm tone with a blueish green hue on his cheekbones. His lips were a dark ashen black with a subtle shine. It was probably just the aesthetic.

"Evening, traveler." His voice practically purred as he greeted the weary young man"The rhythm's alive, and the spirits are waiting—how can I make your afterlife?"

"Coffee. Black." Tim said gruffly despite to get it in his system.

"Oh, you got it bad, don't you? Let me get you something that will actually help." The bartender said turning to brew a cup.

Tim's eyes scanned the chalkboard menu that hung above the bar.

Hot Coffee Drinks:

Graveyard Brew – A rich dark roast with a hint of smoked caramel. (Tucker's pick)

Phantom Flat White – A smooth flat white with ghostly foam art. (Danny's pick)

Latté of the Damned– A spiced pumpkin latte with black cinnamon dust. (Jazz's pick)

Eternal Espresso– A bold, double-shot espresso.

The Velvet Casket – Mocha with dark chocolate and a touch of vanilla.

Sepulcher Spice – Chai-spiced coffee with a hint of nutmeg. (Val's pick)

Necromancer’s Nitro – Nitro cold brew with a dash of maple syrup. (Dan's pick)

Iced Coffee Drinks:

Cold-Brew Crypt– Smooth cold brew with a splash of sweet cream.

Chilled Cadaver– Iced coffee with coconut milk and a shot of hazelnut. (Dani's pick)

The Frosted Requiem – Blended mocha with chocolate drizzle.

Soulful Swirl– Iced latte with caramel and a swirl of blackcurrant syrup.

Moonlit Macchiato– Vanilla macchiato with activated charcoal. (Sam's pick)

Tim definitely sensed a theme here.

"I added a few shots of expresso and some dark chocolate liquor. It should get you right and some minor heart palpitations. I think I'll call it 'The Black Veil'." The barista smiled very cat-like.

"Am I getting my name on the board?" Tim quipped without thinking as he sipped the hot coffee. Actually, it was cooler than he thought it would be. It was the perfect temperature. And the taste was amazing.

"Only if you're a regular and I think your drink might be too much for anyone else." The barista laughed softly.

"So...this place is pretty um...gothic?"

"This place used to be just for the dead but we've recently over up to the living."

"Heh, I get it."

"Get what?"

Tim coughed awkwardly. He didn't want to stop talking to the goth barista yet and the quality coffee was convincing. Maybe it was the environment. It was like walking into a different world.

"So what's this place called? So I know what Im coming back to." Tim tried to sound cool but let's face it, he's been beat.

"This is the Catacomb Club. Where the spirits swing and the night never sleeps. You should come again soon, cutie. I think I got a good surge of inspiration just looking at you." He purred in delight as he leaned over the bar tapped Tim's cheek.

Tim felt his face burn, the touch felt like electricity tickling his skin. A string of babbling seemed to come out of this mouth as he tried to respond.

"Heh heh, don't keep me waiting dear," he laughed "Oh, and by the way. My name is Danny. Catch me in the early shift. My brother works the late shift mixing the alcohol. But if you want you can catch me on the stage or on the dance floor. I might even make you an extra cup or two." Danny said.

Tim found his footsteps on the way up lighter and only when he made it back the cematary gate did he notice.

He never paid.

[shanastoryteller]

Merry bday! A continuation of Enola Holmes marrying the viscount of Basilweather would be really cool 😀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

She wrinkles her nose when Tewksbury passes over her cup of tea with two sugars, unstirred, and she knows.

She puts down the cup too quickly, blood pounding in her ears, and Tewksbury frowns, reaching for her hand. "Enola?"

"Got to go," she says, pushing herself to standing, almost just leaves him sitting there, hand outstretched, but he's her husband and she loves him, so she darts over to smack a kiss on his lips before she's running for the door.

"Enola!" he calls out again, but now he sounds less worried and more exasperated, which is better, which is good. There's nothing for him to worry about.

She wants her mother, who's banned from London and is causing political unrest in Southern France currently, or Edith, who's doing something clever and illegal in Scotland. She'd take Victoria, but Mycroft will be there, and he's the last person she wants to see right now. Sherlock, while beloved, is useless, but his boy is a doctor.

She drops in at 221B Baker Street, picking the lock like always, and is relieved that Sherlock is still asleep and decides not to have any opinions on the various bones scattered about the kitchen table. She assumes there's a reasonable explanation for them.

"Oh, Enola!" John grins and shoves some femurs to the side to make space at the table. "Here, join me, would you like some oatmeal? Are you looking for your brother? I can wake him-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurts out, then bites her bottom lip.

John blinks once, then twice, then says with a gentleness that had made her like him in the first place - because Sherlock wanted to be gentle, but was quite bad at it, so someone had to teach him - "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Wanted seems like not the correct word, although of course it is, because she and Tewksbury had been, not trying, but not-not trying, which probably amounted to the same thing, considering how often they - well.

"I can fix it," he says, voice low and serious, "if it's something that needs to be fixed."

Enola lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "No. No, it doesn't need to be fixed."

She loves that he offered. She loves John, more her brother than Mycroft will ever be, sometimes even more her brother than Sherlock is. If nothing else, her brothers had picked their partners well. Victoria and John are a delight.

John is the functional one between them, explosions and skeletons notwithstanding. John is the one that coaxed her brother into a proper relationship and John is the one that knew they were like parents to all the Irregulars and John isn't normal but he grew up normal.

"Are you worried something's wrong?" he asks. "I can look you over."

"No," she says, although, "I mean, yes, that'd be nice because Tewksbury will go spare, but no, I'm not worried anything's wrong."

He leans back in his chair, looking her over, and after almost ten years of dealing with her and Sherlock and even occasionally Mycroft he can read them almost as well as they can read everyone else.

"It's alright to be scared," he says finally. "Lots of women are when they find out, even when it's wanted, even when the baby's healthy."

"I'm not scared," she says, but for the first time her words feel like a lie. "I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of?"

She wishes her mother was here.

Will her children miss her like this too?

Sometimes she misses her mother even when she's right in front of her, and if nothing else, she's her mother's daughter.

John gets to his feet, stand in front of her, and opens his arms. She looks away even as she steps forward, like if she doesn't look at him when she does it then it doesn't count as weakness.

His arms close around her. He smells like chai and antiseptic and it's only years of association that make the combination comforting. "I can't wait to be an uncle."

He'll be an uncle. Sherlock will be an uncle. Even Mycroft, and Victoria will be delighted to be an aunt, and to raise her children with Enola's. Of course there's her mother-in-law, and Tewksbury's uncle, who have been angling for her to have a child from the day they married.

There's Tewksbury, who loves her, who isn't going to die on her or leave her if either of them have anything to say about it, who isn't going to leave her to raise their children the way her mother raised her.

Alone.

She's been saying she wasn't going to do this alone from the beginning, but standing here in Sherlock's kitchen, with John holding her steady, she really believes it.

[karikarasuno]

shouto has your schedule memorized. accidentally of course, but it's ingrained in his head. for example, you’re always three minutes late. and you’re always carrying an obscene amount of things in your arms. today you’re holding a plastic tote that seems to have cupcakes inside– or maybe they’re muffins– along with a water bottle, a coffee mug, two bags, and your lunch box. he wants to offer to help, but instead he watches you. 

your first stop is always the break room. his eyes follow you until you disappear behind a corner. you’re wearing a dress today that hits right above your knees and boots that stop just below them. he rather enjoys when you wear dresses, only ever wearing them on fridays, when the dress code is more lax and you can incorporate more of your personal style. you wear colors. it is the only source of anything bright or cheerful in the office. 

aside from your office itself. it’s stationed right beside his. music is always trickling out beneath the cracks of the door and the soft smell of chamomile wafts around its four walls. he only recognizes the smell because he had a meeting with you in there to discuss some reports your department was in charge of and he noticed a small diffuser on your bookshelf with a chamomile essential oil beside it.

it’s rare that you’re ever alone together. even rarer that it’s somewhere as intimate as your office. it’s littered with things that are so innately you. that’s how he learned your favorite color is green. and that you have a vast assortment of teas organized in a wooden box on your desk. 

you always offer to make him a cup. he always declines, but the offer alone warms him from the inside. 

“morning , shouto,” you say, popping your head through his open door and smiling. his cheeks warm at the expression. he really never tires of looking at you.

“good morning,” his voice cracks, so he clears it as he sits up in his chair. when you step inside his office, the smell of your perfume hits him. it’s sweet like vanilla, but paired with something deeper, almost earthy. he tries not to close his eyes and relish in it. 

“so i made these vanilla chai muffins last night and cooked about a dozen too many,” you say, hand holding out a muffin on a napkin towards him. “would you like one?” 

he’s not even sure if he likes chai but he takes it anyway. because he likes you. your fingers are warm when they brush his. he wonders what it would be like to hold them. since his have a tendency to run cold –his right side more so than his left. but he imagines how comforting it would be. and then he remembers you’re still standing in front of his desk. expectantly. 

“thank you,” he says, assuming that’s what you’re waiting for.

“You’re welcome,” you respond sweetly, still standing patiently on the other side of his desk. there’s a moment of exchanging stares. heat rises and settles beneath his collar. your eye contact always unsettled him. but because it always felt like you were staring deeper into his soul than anyone he’s ever met. he never knows how to respond to it, other than glancing away.

you laugh, breathless and amused. “i want you to try it.”

“right now?”

“mhm,” you hum with a nod to emphasize your answer. 

“why?” he asks before thinking, but not in offense, purely because he's curious as to why you would want to watch him try something.

“because i want to know if you like it, and it's easier to tell if you’re lying if i see you take your first bite,” you joke, hands adjusting the bags that are still on your shoulder since you’ve yet to stop by your office. 

“oh ok,” he says, the heat below his collar beginning to escape up his neck. he pauses before he takes a bite, the muffin just an inch away from his lips. he feels your eyes on him intently. eager. And his nerves are starting to fester beneath his skin. 

his bite is bigger than he intends to be. nearly eating half of the muffin in one go. he hears you suppress a giggle, your eyes alight with amusement when he glances up at you with a mouth full of the pastry you made. he’s taken aback by how pretty you look at that moment. the sun peeking through his slanted blinds, not fully open, but wide enough to cast you in light that makes you appear quite heavenly. he never knows what to do with his feelings. an infatuation or maybe a crush or maybe something deeper. he didn’t know. not when you looked at him. not when you smiled at him. not when you touched him. 

all he knows is that he wants to keep your eyes on him, your smile directed towards him, and your hands always on him. 

“so?” you prompt, taking an anticipatory step closer to him. that’s when he remembers to chew. the flavor surprises him, sweet but spicy. light and not too sugary. it’s good, delicious even. he wonders how you can be so good at everything. or maybe he simply just likes everything that you do.  

“it’s really good,” he says, once he finally swallows his overindulgent bite. Your smile widens, probably deciding that he’s not lying, before tilting your head in that pretty way you always do and saying “glad you like it.”

he doesn’t get a chance to respond before you're exiting his office, somehow taking the life right out of it and back with you. the sun even dims in your absence. 

10:45 am on the dot and you’re walking past his office. it’s your scheduled tea time. he’s sure he’s the only one in the office that has noticed it. but every day at the same time you walk by with a mug and head for the break room. it’s where you keep your electric kettle. also in the color green.

today, again, you pause by his open door. he drops his pen in surprise. “i’m gonna make some tea.”

he simply stares. you smile again. and his heart stutters. “do you want some?”

“what kind do you have?” the question surprises even him.

“all kinds,” you respond cheekily.

“what’s your favorite?” 

“caffeinated or non-caffeinated?”

“non-caffeinated.”

“i’ll surprise you,” you wink, head tilting again in that way he really appreciates and this time his breathing gets stuck somewhere in his chest. 

When you return this time it’s with two mugs, both with heavy plumes of steam whirling above them. 

“careful,” you say as you set it down before him, “it’s really hot.”

“what is it?” he asks, smelling over the lip instinctively. 

“peppermint,” you answer.

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

☆｡.:*･ﾟ Sweet Nothings ｡.:*･ﾟ☆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x baker!reader

warning: fluff, multiple mentions of cake, mentions of Bucky with children

a/n: Ahhh I had this idea before going to bed and literally stayed up two hours working on it. I finished it this morning, and I've gotta stay I'm proud of my commitment because I usually take at least a month to finish a fanfiction. Hopefully, there's more where this came from. P.S. I'm not a baker, so I'm sorry if I fudged any details. Feedback is always appreciated but please be kind. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated but no reposting without credit <3

word count: 1.6k

summary: Reader is a baker and Bucky gets a cake from her to take to Sam's picnic party on the docks (scene from tfatws).

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

The bell jingled as Bucky entered Sweet Nothings, the bakery you had started from the ground up. He was instantly enveloped by the sweet scent of baked goods from the array of desserts neatly displayed in the glass case by the counter. Underneath the sugar, he smelled the new chai latte you had just added to the menu. It had been an instant hit, totally trumping the one at Starbucks that everyone raved about. Chai had been a nostalgic drink for you and a completely new one for Bucky. He now had an affinity for it, however, and asked for it every time he entered the shop after you made him the first honorary taste tester of the drink. Now, the shop was bustling since it was happy hour.

Soft music played in the background. Bucky recognized the voice of Taylor Swift, one of your favorite artists. She was one of Bucky's favorites now too. You had impeccable taste, and any song you loved became his favorite. The album that was currently playing was Midnights, the one you had told Bucky he was most like. He loved that about you, how you would associate things like albums and songs with him. It made his heart swell, knowing you thought about him in relation to music, which had a special place in your heart.

You were nowhere in sight, so he assumed you were in the back checking on your bread dough. Bucky approached the barrier that led to the backroom for employees and pushed the door open, hoping to surprise you while you were working. Once he entered, he found you bent over your proving drawer, checking on a fluffy batch of bread dough. He tiptoed up to you and grabbed your waist, lifting you off your feet and causing you to let out a yelp of surprise. Bucky spun you around, chuckling at your reaction (what did he expect when he literally attacked you with a bear hug from behind?).

Finally, he set you down on your feet and spun you around to face him. His eyes were crinkled with laugh lines as he took in your disheveled form. Your hair was in a low messy bun with a few strands astray in the front. You donned a cream-colored beret and a blue long-sleeve over which you had on your cheeky apron that read "Kiss the Cook." It was, of course, gifted to you by none other than your doting boyfriend. A light dusting of flour over your entire being gave you an angelic glow. In Bucky's eyes, you looked more heavenly than all of the desserts in your shop combined.

You blew your hair out of your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest before attempting to glare at Bucky. You didn't last long, however, as his sheepish grin caused you to look down, so he wouldn’t catch you smiling.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” you admonished him half-heartedly. “Bakers can be dangerous when startled, you know.”

“Sure, doll,” Bucky still had on that cheeky grin. “I don’t know about dangerous, though. Former assassin here, remember?” He pointed at himself with his index fingers as if you didn't already know. "I think I can handle a blow from a rolling pin." He picked up the nearest tool his hand landed on, which, unfortunately for him, was a basting brush, making his joke fall flat. He sheepishly put the brush away as you tried not to laugh.

You gave him a warning look before turning your back to him and smiling wide. You may pretend to be annoyed by his antics, but they truly brought joy to your heart and brightened up your bland days. You loved your job, but you loved your man most of all.

“I’ve got the cake ready for Sam’s. Just gotta put the finishing touches on it. Did you bring the Oreos, baby boy?”

You turned around to find his face in yours. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve found it incredibly infuriating. But with Bucky, it left you blushing to your core.

He wrapped his arms around you and held up the blue plastic box. “Right here, sweetheart.”

It was a generic nickname that every single boyfriend in the history of the world had called his girlfriend at some point. But somehow, it was almost erotic coming from his plush pink lips with that deep timbre. You sometimes wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on you.

“Thank you,” was all you trusted yourself to say as you took the box of cookies from him and started peeling off the plastic cover. You moved away from him and carefully placed six cookies on the cake, one on each of the iced rosettes on the border.

“Alright, Buck, I think it’s ready for the party. Lemme just get a box for it, and we’ll be on our way.”

Bucky smiled as he watched you tenderly place the plastic casing on the cake as if it was your baby. In a way, it was, along with all of your other creations.

“Alrighty then, doll,” Bucky grabbed the cake in his gloved flesh hand, then put his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your temple. “Thank you so much for making this, baby cakes.”

You turned pink hearing him use your favorite nickname of all time. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you mumbled bashfully, suddenly shy again in the crook of his arm.

“It’s a Sweet Nothing, which means it’s the opposite of nothing. Doll, this cake is quite literally everything to me.”

“Buckyyy,” you playfully swatted him away. Sure, you were proud of your work, but you still got flustered when people complimented you, especially your boyfriend, who took every chance to make you feel like you were the biggest star in his world.

You eased yourself out of his embrace momentarily to hunt down your assistant. “Lemme just tell Nico to take over the closing shift tonight.”

Bucky nodded and waited patiently by the door for you to rejoin him. You returned and looped your arm around his waist to steer him out of your shop.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky drove the both of you from the bakery to the docks in his pickup. You held the cake securely in your lap with your right hand and entwined your left with Bucky's. When you arrived, you let go of his hand and moved to open the door, but Bucky reached over you to close it again. Then he climbed out of the truck and rushed to open your door.

"M'lady," you rolled your eyes at him but couldn't help smiling as he took the cake from you so you could climb out of the car. He shut your door behind you, then took off with the cake balanced precariously in his flesh hand.

"Bucky! Be careful!" Your cries were drowned out by Sam's nephews, who were happily trailing Bucky at the sight of the cake. They tried play-fighting with him, pretending to punch him in the face, to which Bucky pretended to stagger backward from the force of impact.

You sighed and let the corners of your mouth lift as you watched your lover boy, totally enamored by his way with children.

Bucky ran to the nearest picnic table and finally placed the cake down safely. You let out a breath of relief you didn't realize you had been holding in and walked over to him.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky returned to entertaining the kids a little while after everyone had eaten. He stood atop a picnic table, talking to you and Sarah with his metal arm extended out. Sam's nephew and his friend hung off of Bucky's arm. You were trying your hardest to concentrate on what he told you about his days in the Navy, but you couldn't help giggling softly at the sight of him effortlessly holding up two children using only one of his arms.

When you could finally steal a moment alone with him, you handed him a beer and tugged his arm to lead him to the pier's edge. You plopped down and let your feet dangle, the bottoms of your boots grazing the water's surface. After a moment, Bucky crouched down to join you. He scooted closer so his thigh was pressed up against yours. He put his arm around you, and you sighed softly, leaning into his shoulder and staring at the setting sun. Nose pressed against Bucky's shoulder, you inhaled, reveling in the warm scent of freshly-cut pine and the sweet undertones of amber and musky vanilla.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulder, suddenly needing to be closer to him than you already were. He seemed to understand and gently twisted to the side, snaking one arm around your lower back and using the other to bring your legs into his lap. You moved in to kiss him tenderly. Your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your hips, and everything felt perfect at that moment. You could still taste the Oreo cake on his breath, and you broke away from the kiss slowly, smiling all the while. Bucky returned your smile warmly as you turned to look at the sunset.

Bucky watched it paint your face the most gorgeous shade of pink and thanked his lucky stars at that moment. Somehow, life had brought you to him. He had never thought of himself as fortunate, but he was ecstatic now that you were in his arms, and he damn sure was never going to let go of this beautiful thing he had with you. He pressed his lips to your forehead and tightened his hold on you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Seventeen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Helluva Boss events of this chapter take place during S2E6 “Oops.” 

Last transition chapter before the finale!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Seventeen - The Countdown

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of abuse.

3 Days till Extermination

“Coconut mocha for Sir Pentious, soy latte for Angel, espresso for Husk, decaf for Niffty, 2% cappuccino for Vaggie, iced coffee for Charlie, and black chai for Alastor,” you spun the tray, ensuring you had everyone’s order. 

Well, technically, not “order.” The crew didn’t know you were going to this extent. You woke in Alastor’s bed, the sheets long since gone cold from where Alastor’s sleeping form had once been. The Hotel crew had been hard at work early in the morning - even Husk had skipped his eye-opener glass of whiskey. So, before you had joined the crew in the foyer, you snuck past them and headed for the kitchen. The group was still uneasy around Alastor - everyone except for Husk. The cat demon never gave a fuck about anything regarding the Radio Demon. 

Taking a deep breath, you and the tray made your way to the huddled group in the foyer. “I um… I made coffee?” 

“Thank fuck!” Angel exclaimed. The demon rolled his shoulders and stretched the stiffness from his arms. “Momma needs a drink.” 

You passed off the drinks to their respective partners, finally coming to Charlie. 

“Hey,” you breathed, afraid of saying anything more. This was the first time you were encountering the Princess since the big reveal and although Charlie was always the upbeat, do-gooder of the group, you were still nervous. 

“Hey, um, Aunt… Thestral… Mika-… Mickey… Aunt Mike…” 

God, this was painful to watch. 

“Just call me Mikaela,” you smiled awkwardly, handing her the iced coffee. 

“Okay, Aunt Mikaela,” the Princess smiled softly. 

“Oh…” You blinked. “No, Charlie, it’s okay. You don’t have to…” You huffed, noticing the eyes around you quickly darting away. “I have not earned that title.” Your shoulders slumped as you spoke. 

You never really expected to have this conversation. You had just assumed the worst, but this was Charlie for crying out loud. She was technically family. She was a bleeding heart, so of course she’d want some sort of relationship with you. Yet, you hadn’t really thought down this avenue, thinking you’d forever stay friends and never acknowledge the elephant in the room. Especially considering Lucifer hated you and wanted nothing to do with you… 

Charlie placed a hand on your arm and smiled. “I look forward to that day.” 

The Princess didn’t smile because she agreed with you, she smiled because she recognized the struggle within you. She recognized that you were not ready for that, for whatever reason (~hellah guilt~), and that you needed time to come to terms with the situation. 

So she’d give it to you. 

“Can we get back to plannin’? I’m too hungover for this shit.” Husk grumbled. 

You rejoined the group before the table, squishing yourself between the cat demon and Alastor. 

“Ma cherie,” Alastor greeted you with his usual kiss of your hand that made the butterflies in your belly crazy. 

“I don’t approve of this…” Vaggie grumbled as she crossed her arms. 

“Yeah, yeah!” Angel shoved his way between you and Husk. “We know, Small Tits!”

The Radio Demon leaned in, finding any excuse to touch you. His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the dark fabric of his suit accenting his sharp lines. What you would give to rip that suit off of him right here…

“Stop calling me that!” Vaggie stomped her foot, but Angel continued on. 

“Watya tink?” The spider demon motioned to the diorama before him. 

The Hotel was drawn in pencil on a sheet of paper, small objects signifying each of the Hotel Natives. You assumed the glass of scotch was Husk, Angel was the cellphone charm, the grey feather was Vaggie, the needle was Nifty, one of the Eggs (Frank?) represented Sir Pentious, the stress ball was Charlie, and… Alastor was a cut-out music note (probably hand-drawn by Angel). Which meant you were the espresso cup. 

“What is this?” You scrunched your nose. 

“A battle plan!” Angel exclaimed. “Can’t go to war without a strategy. Am I right?” 

You did a doubletake. “This…” You swallowed. 

Angel’s smile dropped. “What? What’s wrong?” The demon analyzed the playing board. 

“Well…” You handed your coffee off to Alastor. “Can I?” You waited for Angel to permit you before - quite literally - rearranging every single icon on the map. Before you were done, it was a completely different strategy. 

“Wow,” Charlie smiled. “Uhm, really - really - good job! But… Can you maybe… maybe explain to those who don’t know what’s going on, what’s going on…” 

Oh, Charlie, dancing around the honest truth: what the fuck were you thinking with this? 

“Well…” You pointed to the scotch and phone charm. “Husk and Angel have natural chemistry.”

“Excuse me?” Husk scoffed. 

“Oooooh,” Angel purred. “You hear that, Whiskers? Chemistry.” Angel leaned into Husk, the older demon rolling his eyes but not pulling away as his cheeks heated. 

“They work well together, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “Angel is a medium-distance fighter, while Husk is more close combat. If the portal to Heaven opens here,” you point to the front of the Hotel. “Which I suspect Adam will do, Angel and Husk can cover the right wing. At the same time, Charlie and Vaggie can cover the left. Same concept with their dynamic. Vaggie has battle experience, and Charlie… Well…” You winced. “She’ll be well taken care of.” 

“I love it,” Angel purred, leaning into Husk even more. The cat demon sidestepped, allowing the spider to fall right onto the carpet. 

“What about me?” Nifty appeared beneath your legs, her head barely appearing over the table's surface. 

“You are a Jungler.”

“Oh!” She laughed maniacally, “A Jungler! Uh, what’s that?”

“A Jungler,” you moved the needle to demonstrate. “Is sort of like a freelancer. You have the power to move between the two groups and work as you please.”

“Why would I do that?” The small demon tilted her head before reaching for the needle. Vaggie swatted her away. 

“Because, you can take out any rogue Angel that slips past or attempts to ambush the four of them,” you explained. 

“Oh, I like that!” She laughed. 

“And me?” Sir Pentious stepped in. 

“With your knowledge of war and supply of long-range weaponry, you’ll be right outside the Hotel, with Angel, Husk. Charlie, and Vaggie being the line between you and the Angels. You and your Egg boys…”

“Hey, that’s me!” Frank pointed out. 

“... will be in charge of long-range attacks against the invading forces. You’ll be aiming for the portal opening: where they concentrate most.”

“Yesssssss, sssssssir!” The snake demon saluted. “It would be our honor!”

You huffed, “That just leaves Al and I.” You moved the music note to the front line. “Alastor is our tank. He does the best against multiple enemies at once and can take the most hits. He’s best suited for the front lines, while I…” You moved the cup to the top of the Hazbin Hotel. “... deal with Adam.”

The entire room went silent. 

“I’m our secret weapon. I’d be best used against their Commander and Second in Command - Lute. I know Adam’s fighting style, which means I know his weaknesses. He won’t be much of a problem for me.” You could technically take out the entire Exorcist force single-handedly if you wanted to, but unleashing the hidden Power within you would be a stupid move. It needed to remain a secret…

The room says nothing for so long you almost question whether they have frozen in time. 

A zip of static runs its way down your spine. You turn to face the Radio Demon, his pupils pinpoint and hard as steel, despite his cool demeanor, meets your gaze. 

You blink, “What?”

Angel leans in and whispers not-so-quietly, “That was Smile’s plan you just messed with, Hair clip.”

Oh, shit. 

No. Wait. 

You crossed your arms, “You want Adam for yourself.”

Alastor laughed, his chuckles shallow and filled with static, “When you say it that way, darling, it sounds selfish. No, no! I simply wish to play my part. What would dear Adam think when Mikaela Morningstar suddenly appeared after a hundred years of silence, hmm?” 

It was always so interesting how Alastor could flip his personality on a dime. He was so different with you when the two of you were alone. The Radio Demon was always just a mask, but one he wore well. It was going to take some used to - this change of pace in front of others - but part of you saw it as playful. So, you played. 

Grinning, you leaned in. Alastor’s grip tightened on his cane, noting the sudden change in proximity while in public. It made him uncomfortable, but you were doing that on purpose. “Who said I’d be going as Mikaela Morningstar?”

“Oh, my!” The Radio Demon pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes feigning a spark of interest. “Had you found your cloak? I thought that shabbish thing went missing for good!” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the slight, “No, unfortunately, I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make another one.”

“In such a short time!” Alastor leaned in, goating you despite the crowd. “My, my, what a feat that would be to pull off.”

Oh, to dance with the devil… You had one argument in your back pocket you could use that would shut Al up for good, but you would never do that. You would never tell Alastor that he sat a few rungs lower on the hierarchy of power than Adam did… It would destroy him. 

So, instead, you said, “Al, I can handle him…”

“As can I.” Alastor leaned in more, his towering figure bent at an odd angle in order for you to meet him at eye level. “Laisse-moi faire mon travail, mon cœur. Let me do my job, mon couer.”

You blinked before switching to French. “De quoi s'agit-il vraiment? What is this really about, Al?”

The demon smiled, this grin lop-sided and genuine - his Radio Demon persona dropping for but a moment. “Toi, mon cœur, ça a toujours été à propos de toi. You, mon couer, it's always been about you.” 

“I think…” Charlie steps in, “... what Alastor is trying to say is, it’s safer for you if you remain hidden from Heaven.”

Wait, can Charlie switch languages like an Angel could? Well, Vaggie could - she was an Angel - but Charlie was “other.” You didn’t know if she was closer to a demon or an Angel or - God-forbid - a Human Sinner at this point. She was the first of her kind - both belonging to and also not. 

“I won’t hide from a fight.” You turn your energy towards her. 

“You won’t be hiding, you’ll just be…” Charlie’s words ran out. 

But, of course, Al popped in, “You’ll be assisting our dear Princess.” The demon placed a hand on her shoulder in support. “Keeping her safe from any harm during the onslaught from…” Al made direct eye contact with you before continuing, “your plan.”

Fuck. The entire ordeal with Lilith slammed into your mind. You made a promise that your plan would keep Charlie out of harms way and here you were, placing her on a battlefield. Fuck, Alastor was right, you were going to have to watch after her during the chaos. The fight left you then, the realization of the situation weighing down your limbs with lead. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. 

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Rolf switched the music note for the coffee cup, the ceramic finding its new home next to the stress ball and grey feather. 

Leaving Alastor to face Adam alone…

____________________________________________

2 Days till Extermination

Alastor had introduced you to the most important person in his entire life, but she couldn’t be there. 

As you stared at the marbled headstone, worn with age, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in your gut. Had you not done the things you did, had you returned Eve to Heaven like you were supposed to, you might still be able to pass St. Peter and enter the pearly white gates. You might still be able to return Alastor to his mother instead of standing here at her grave, speaking to the tree she was buried under.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” you give a small curtsy before Alastor grabbed your hips and pulled you into him. Resting your head on his chest, you stand in silence for a while, letting the wind whip your hair and skirt in the small breeze. It was warm in Louisiana - the Extermination was right around the corner. You should have worn something lighter, but you wanted to wear something nice, something important for this moment. 

Rosie had redone your wardrobe, this time unabashedly dressing you in Alastor’s colors. At your request, she redid the red and black dress you loved so much, the one with a back of black lace. Except this one was so much more. Full red with a layer of laces over a skin—colored slip. You appeared to be floating under a layer of lace before it bunched out at the hips. You wore that and a matching red ribbon in your golden hair. God, even on this side, you looked so much like Lucifer it’s a shock no one put it together the moment he stepped foot in the foyer. 

“Alastor,” you breathed into his black lapel jacket. Someone, somewhere, was playing a trumpet, its brass echoing through the green meadow trapped within the heart of the city. “I need to say something.”

“Hmm,” the demon hummed. 

You pulled back a little, yet still in his arms. You needed room for this part, to catch your breath. “Lilith has to die.”

It had been swimming through your mind for days at this point - since you woke in Alastor’s bed and found him smiling in his sleep. 

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyebrows shot up, his smile slightly strained. You knew how he hated talking of Hell’s Queen and you knew why. “And why would that be?”

Taking a breath, you let your power slip out, just like it had that first day at the Hotel. You prodded into Alastor and, this time, he didn’t even put up a fight. You dug deep, swimming through the lake of power he had built up over the years as Overlord, until you found the center - empty. 

Alastor’s Soul was missing. 

“I knew something felt wrong, but I didn’t figure it out until recently. ‘To power and chaos,’ that was the last thing Lilith said to me before she took her trip top-side.”

Although you had but a moment to taste the well of power Alastor carried within him, it felt off. You didn’t know exactly how to describe it until yesterday when you were talking with Angel. 

The spider demon brought you into his room and poked and prodded you about your relationship with the Radio Demon. Mostly he wanted information on the things only lover’s shared in bed, because, of course he did. Yet, the spider demon had asked you a very important question, one you never would have considered had he not brought it up. 

____________________________________________

“So, uh…” Angel rolled onto his side atop the bed, Fat Nuggets snoozing in his arms. “I have ta’ ask this but uh, if yous was a Human Sinner, ya’ think Smiles would be all over ya’ Soul?” 

You paused mid-chew of a sweet lemon square Angel had stashed in his room. After he sampled the ones you shared with him all those moons ago, the spider demon went searching for his own. Not for himself, but for the loveable blob of pink he shared the space with. 

You blinked, mouth full of tartness.

Would Alastor, the Radio Demon, the man Hell-bent on the consumption of power, the architect of some of the most infamous deals in Hell, want your Soul? I mean, you imagined he would. Why wouldn’t he? The demon tried to kill you for power not that long ago, even going so far as to sink an Angelic blade into your flesh. Yet, he was a man consumed then, a veil of desire overshadowing his senses, but he broke through. Yes, you nearly destroyed half of a border town district in doing so but in the end, Alastor came back to you. 

So, given the chance, would he persuade you - violently - into signing a contract to give over your Soul?  

“Yes,” you swallowed. 

Angel narrowed his eyes at you, “Ya’ seriously tink that, Hair clip?”

The lemon squares suddenly became too distracting. “I do. Do you know why?” You pushed the sugary delights away, clearing space for yourself physically and mentally to think this out. “Alastor nearly killed me, but he didn’t. In the end… In the end, he chose me. Had he been after my Soul, well, I’d still end up on that radio tower balcony with a knife to my throat. And it would have gone the exact same way it did the first time.”

Angel’s jaw dropped, “Wow, ya got a lot more faith in him than the rest of us evah would.” 

Oh yes, Alastor would want your Soul… but what of his? Your stomach twisted. 

You snort, willing the thought away, “Yeah, that’s why I’m the one getting dick and you’re not.”

The pig demon jumped as Angel exploded in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit! Okay! Okay…” He wheezed. “Okay, one last question. One last question!” The demon regained his breath. “I need ya’ to answer me seriously, gurl. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

You shoot him a dumb look. “Seriously?”

“As serious as the day I died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anything that is said in here never leaves this room, understood?” Angel had managed to weasel a few - A FEW - details regarding your sex life. Alastor was a very private person; you knew he would hate if serious ~details~ ever got out. So, you stuck to mostly the softer topics regarding your relationship - despite Angel’s protests. 

“Ya! Ya!” Angel rolled onto his back, his head dangling over the side of the bed. “You’ve reminded me like fifty fuckin’ times. Just tell me!”

You grumbled, but trusted the spider demon anyway, “Yes.”

“I knew it! RED LIPSTICK DICK!” the demon shouted. 

“Angel!”  

____________________________________________

Alastor spun you before you could read more of his face, wrapping his arms around you from behind, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. He wasn’t hiding from you; he just couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Not with pity - never pity - but intent, and he didn’t want that to fuel the guilt growing inside him. 

The demon places a kiss on your bare skin, “Mother would have adored you.”

You breathed, a small smile forming on your face, “And I, her.”

You felt the demon smile against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfortable in the silence, enjoying the beautiful day. Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. The change of the weather was warming you to the point of discomfort, the humidity sticking to your skin. You curtsied to the grave and placed a kiss on Alastor’s cheek, thanking him for this moment and silently hoping for many more to come.

“Are you ready?” You snap your fingers, and the Hotel foyer beamed back at you through the crack in reality. 

“I will be,” Alastor had his back to you, his hands finding his pants pockets. “I need a moment, my doe.”

My doe? That was new. 

You note the stiffness in his shoulders, the sudden downturn of his smile - a thing he only ever let you see. Resisting the urge to rub the tension from his arms, you step through, giving Alastor Hartfelt a moment alone with his mother. 

____________________________________________

The Day Before The Extermination

“Alright, bring it in!” Angel pulled the last bit of the clutter from the doorway, the chairs and tables used to barricade the doors from the torrential media outside. The media plagued you tirelessly as Velvette continued to spread her gossip to any news media outlet that would listen - which was all of them.

The media sharks had circled the Hotel guests for the past three days. Stalking them in the streets and on social media. The only time they didn’t go running after a Hotel Native was when Alastor left the Hotel with Charlie to visit Rosie in Cannibal Town. Angel was the one to suggest a barricade and he was right in doing so. The rest of you have managed to sneak out the back and circle in through the Doomsday District. It was a bitch of a walk but what else was one to do? 

You were just thankful the crew didn’t resent you for it. That being said, there wasn’t really any time for that - particularly today. There was far too much to be done to prepare this place and the surrounding grounds for the onslaught you were about to face. You had the disadvantage of being sitting ducks, but the advantage of surprise. 

That’s where Carmilla came in. Vaggie had somehow swung the Overlord into promising resources for your battle. This is what led you and Angel to spend nearly an hour removing the wonderful barricade to allow boxes upon boxes of sparkling weapons to be delivered to the Hotel. 

Boxes and boxes of weapons which could kill you…

“You can drop those by the bar,” you informed the first demon in the line of demons carrying boxes. The demon, a praying mantis by the looks of him, eyed you weirdly but continued on with his work. 

Not surprising. Velvette was saying some pretty nasty shit about you. The newest and most supported rumor was that you were sent from Heaven to spy on the inner workings of Hell in order to kill more demons off in the next Extermination. Which made sense, why would the  Extermination date move up? The beheading of the Exorcist was only known to a select few - the majority of which were in the Hotel with you. The rest of the City had to put the pieces together without that information, and an Angel showing up and attempting to take down not one but four different Overlords looked - to them - to be an attack on Hell’s power system. An attempt to strip the underworld down and weaken it before the next attack. 

It didn’t matter that you had actually come to Hell to empower it, to raise it up into a formidable force, to build an army to fight. You were just thankful they had moved on from topics like your sex life. 

Can’t a woman enjoy power without accusations of “whoring herself out?”

Alastor also mentioned that they even interviewed Susan, but nothing was published, as everything she said was too nice and supportive. The media wanted scandal, not sweet stories about tea time with Granny. 

“Sign here,” a familiar yet quiet voice rings out. 

Odette. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you twisted in place, your gaze finding the light-skinned demon. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look away, but instead makes her way towards you. 

Was something wrong? Odette never spoke to you directly, let alone confronted you alone, ever since the incident on Extermination Day. She was a soft spoken woman before, now she had gone completely silent. 

“Mikaela,” she nods, ever the young girl she always was. 

“Odette, is everything okay?” You crinkled your nose in concern, your palms sweaty with anxiety. You resisted the urge to rub the back of your neck as images of blood filled your vision. 

“Yes,” She huffs, looking down. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but words have evaded me.” 

Ah, there was her academic mind. Always such a well-spoken demon with what little words she did possess.

“I believe you have miscalculated, in regards to my mother…”

Oh? You blinked. 

“What happened that day…” Her gaze falls to her clipboard as she clutches it against her chest. “… was a miracle and I will be forever grateful. However, the circumstances regarding said miracle have brought tension between you and my mother and I can no longer sit idly by and watch as she withers away.” 

The demon thrusts her clipboard before you to reveal a contract. 

“My mother promised you Souls in exchange for your services with the Vees. That has since ended and you are thus due payment. However…”

Odette flips the top page over to reveal a black obsidian calling card. Carmilla’s true name shines on its surface in bright white. “I will no longer sit by and watch my mother wrack herself sick with guilt. So I ask you this, sign the contract, take the card, and erase my mother’s memories of that fateful day.” 

You blinked. “What? Why?” 

“My mother blames herself for what happened to me. She has barely allowed me out of the penthouse, let alone the building. Today was the first day in weeks, but my endeavor from home was necessary, pending the deliveries. My hope is that, by taking back this card and erasing her memories, she will forget my near death and move on with her life.” 

Oh…

It would work. Carmilla didn’t have to be the one to relieve the card, it simply had to be taken from her in any manner that could arise. Carmilla wouldn’t only forget your identity but every moment you shared together. It was a failsafe you and Rosie input into the cards the day you made them - a dramatic but necessary move to make. 

So the question was, was Carmilla a friend? Yes, she tortured you when you first arrived - hung you from the ceiling and tortured you for information, but the two of you had moved on from that. You were now business partners, partners in crime, and also… familiar with each other. 

The day Odette almost died you were just as hopeless as Carmilla and Clara. You would have slit your own wrist had you thought it would have worked. Odette was right, her healing from a traumatic wound such as that was a miracle. 

The deaths of the 14 demons who saw however… That was what haunted you. Yes, you’ve killed before but always with purpose. Killing humans on Earth meant nothing knowing they had an afterlife to look forward to. Killing Human Sinners in Hell, however, it meant ending their entire existence. That was different and the days you could hold back the ever bloodthirsty Book of Knowledge you stuck by that rule. The times you couldn’t… Well… Killing was too easy. 

“No,” you breathed. “I’ll take the Souls but not the card.” You dipped to meet her gaze. “I’ve recently learned how important my friendships are to me in this world, and I don’t plan on giving them up that easily. I’m sorry for the things your mother has been going through but what happened was not her fault.” You placed a hand on Odette’s shoulder. “I would have done the same had someone I…” Your eyes flit to the bar, to where Alastor sat sipping a glass of rye, he and Husk were well entranced within a conversation. “Someone important to me was hurt. After all this is over, Odette, I will pay the three of you a visit and set this right. In any way that I can. If your mother wishes to give up the card herself after that, then I will accept, but it must come from her. I owe her that much…” 

Odette gives a slight nod, the downturn of her mouth illuminating her disappointment.

“And, Odette, if I thought at the time there was something I could have done, I would have. Do not feel guilty for surviving. Whatever form that may take.” 

Odette was looking but you could tell she wasn’t really listening. After you told her no her gaze glazed over as if her mind was elsewhere. It was fine. Trauma is rarely resolved after one conversation. 

You brought the demon into a hug, shocking her as much as you did yourself. You weren’t good at this emotion thing and comforting others, but you were getting much better at it. 

“You’re a survivor, Odette, just like me…”

____________________________________________

Elsewhere in Hell… 

The Mafia boss sat with his back to the desk, a roaring fire of green illuminating the darkened office. “So, you say you're good? 'Cuz we really need a big score right now…” 

Swiveling in his high-backed chair, the imp turns. 

“The best, had a royal on the ropes just last week.” Striker sets his glass of wine on the desk, allowing Alessio - the imp’s butler - to refill their glasses. 

Crimson was more of a whiskey man himself, he preferred the burn as much as the dulling numbness from the alcohol, but the wine wasn’t for him. It was for his guest. 

“Sure, but not dead?” The question comes out sharper than he wants, but then again, Crim was not in a good mood. 

He had been embarrassed. In public. Minutes after you disappeared, the shots of blue electricity following in your wake, the imp boss spotted a pissed-off mass of red barreling straight for the Entertainment District. The demon quickly called off his gang, knowing full well what a visit from the Radio Demon would bring his crew. Crim was brash, but he wasn’t stupid. 

“It was... called off. But I have a body count in the hundreds! I ain't afraid to go after anyone. Women, kids-” The roar of the crowd outside interrupts their conversation, but the imp continues before climbing to his feet to check the window. “And cute little-faced puppy-lookin' things. Don't matter!

“Hmm…” Crim thought, “I'll tell ya what. If you can deliver something of value... I'll consider it. You see, I have a particularly irritating Heavenly creature I need something done about.”

Striker smirks, the gleam in his crazed eye evident even in the low light. Now that was an opportunity the assassin could not pass up. “One moment…”

Striker opens the window and pulls out his lasso. Sending the rope soaring into the streets below, the assassin finds his mark and pulls. Two figures fly into the room and slam against the back wall, interrupting a particularly intense game of billiards between two of Crim’s demons. 

Fizzarolli and Blitz.

Crimson laughs, “Hired!”

Striker corners the two demons against the wall, “Funny to run into ya’ again, Blitzy!" The assassin pulls out his knife and slides toward the clown imp, pointing it under his chin. “And with a famous friend…”

Blitz rolls his eyes, “Oh, fuck me.”

Fizzarolli crosses his arms, “For the record, we are not friends.”

____________________________________________

The Night Before…

Normally chaos excited you. Normally you and Alastor couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the mere thought of it, but tonight… Tonight all you wanted to do was lay wrapped in his arms, your stomach twisting itself into knots as you played with the fur on his chest. 

You were nervous. You were worried. Trepidation was such an odd thing, the potential promise of hurt an ever-looming dark cloud that threatened rain but never dropped it. 

You’ve been worried for Alastor before, most notably the day Velvette fake kidnapped him atop V Tower, but not like this. This was disabling concern. It made you leave the pre-fight celebration early tonight - the last hoorah before looking death straight in the face tomorrow. No, that wasn’t quite right. There was life after death. This was extinction. 

And if anything happened to Alastor, there would be no way to bring him back…

“My doe,” Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing you from your thoughts. “You’re sparking.” 

“Oh,” you blinked, noticing the blues dancing off your skin. “Sorry.” 

Alastor had noticed you sneaking off early from the festivities - because, of course, he did. When you had reached the top of the stairs and headed for your room, well… Alastor couldn’t have that now could he? Rolf shadowed the two of you to his room, where the demon insisted on a bath.

There wasn’t anything sexual about it. Alastor layed you against him as he scrubbed the stress from your skin, massaging the worry from your scalp as he shampooed your hair.

It was the day before battle and Alastor was taking care of you - YOU - a battle-born soldier who has seen more bloody encounters than she could count. You had faced down pure death and yet here you were, shaking like a leaf with anxiety as a Human Sinner soothed your worries. 

Alastor ran a hand through your hair, tucking the locks gently behind your ear. “You’re worried.”

“I am,” you bit your lip, Alastor’s nails eliciting goosebumps as they trailed down your shoulder and arm. 

It was ironic: the demon who detested physical contact couldn’t keep his hands off you. Yet, it was also an odd comfort. You had never been “touched” in this way before. You’ve never had someone be so gentle with you. Like your wings neatly tucked away, your skin had only ever really known things like hurt and pain. It was a weird adjustment to kindness and one you weren’t quite used to.

You still flinched whenever Alastor reached for you. You still jumped when he approached from behind. You still winced when his hand went to your hair…

Years of abuse and then years without… Your body still has a memory even if your mind was elsewhere.

“The plan will work,” Alastor hummed into your hair, the scent of his shampoo wafting off the two of you in droves. It would have been its own kind of soothing high had you not been so tense. 

The two of you lay beneath his covers, wrapped in the warmth of Alastor’s Hotel bath robes. Your legs were intertwined with his, your toes warming themselves against the demon’s calves. Alastor always made a point to keep his hooves away from your feet - almost as if he was self-conscious about his lack of toes. Yet you fought him on it, intentionally tangling your legs together so he couldn’t pull away. 

“It’s not the plan that worries me…” Your voice trailed off. 

Alastor’s hand stopped to cup your face and guided your eyes to his. Worry crinkled his brow, his smile faltering to a thin line of his lips. There was understanding before he spoke, “You worry for me.”

Your lip trembled as you huffed. Digging your head into the fluff of his chest, you felt the hot tears begin to build behind your eyes, the air suddenly sucked from the room as your heart finally acknowledged the terrifying elephant in the room. 

“Oh, ma biche chérie, ne verse pas de larmes pour mon âme. Oh, my darling doe, shed not tears for my Soul.”

“You’re facing Adam, tomorrow, Alastor - an extremely powerful Angel.” Your voice cracked. 

Alastor gently tipped your face into his, your chin tucked between his forefinger and thumb. “An extremely powerful Human Soul.” The demon corrects.

A Human Soul. 

Right. 

Adam was merely a Human Soul. On the tiers of power he was leagues below you, but Alastor? You had always been taught that an Angel outweighs a Human Sinner in all aspects of reality, but then again you were also taught that Angels couldn’t die so…

“Promise me something?” You propped yourself up on your elbows as you spoke, overtowering Alastor beneath you. The demon wouldn’t be caught dead in this position with anyone else.

“Hmm,” he merely responded, his eyes gloomy with the weight of your worry.

“If anything happens…”

“It will not.”

“If anything happens,” you repeat. “Promise that you will either send Rolf for me or use the calling card?” 

The demon paused for a breath, mixed emotions brewing within him. He couldn’t decide whether to give in to your worry for him as opposed to arguing against it. After all, Alastor the Radio Demon didn’t have a reputation for being weak. Your lack of confidence in him was not a lack of confidence. It was worry; albeit, misplaced. Alastor could take care of himself, he had for years. In his mind he had taken down top dogs more powerful than himself before - even Overlords before he became one. Adam was just another name on the list.

The Radio Demon wasn’t fretting over the confrontation so he didn’t see why you would be? Well… That’s not true. A part of him was worried but not for himself, for you. Tomorrow would shine a lot of Heavenly attention on the Hotel - unwanted attention for someone in hiding from Heaven. He worried what might happen to you should anyone discover who you are during the campaign - and you still hadn’t found your cloak. 

Charlie had managed to help you stitch something together last minute but it was nothing compared to ancient magic. What you would be wearing tomorrow would be nothing but a clothed hood…

“And should anything happen to you?” The demon countered.

You blinked, not expecting the question. 

“I have seen you die once, my doe. I will not see it again.”

There it was again: “my doe.”

“I will be by Charlie’s side the entire time. Should anything happen, Vaggie will be the one to let everyone know, for they will be going after the Princess next…” 

“Hmm,” Alastor did not like that answer. 

Then, a thought hit you. “Give me your card.”

Without any hesitation, Alastor pulled the obsidian calling card from the void and watched as you flipped the metal over, his true name hidden beneath your fingers. You waived your hand over the darkness and watched the black consolidate into text, like bleeding ink on wet paper but in reverse. It was a hidden contract in plain sight. One every Human Sinner inadvertently signed with their blood when you granted them the right to summon you. 

“Rosie helped me design these.” You mumbled. “She wrote them, but I signed them. Perhaps if I…” The words changed beneath your hand, reforming a new contract. “There…” You handed the card back to Alastor and watched as the ink saturated the card, solidifying it into shining obsidian once more. 

The demon raised an eyebrow at you. 

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed it to your chest. “Close your eyes,” you demanded.

And he obeyed. 

“Think of me,” you began. “Think of…”

“Lavender,” the demon interrupted almost immediately. After all, thinking of you wasn’t hard to do. The scent of the decadent flower filled the demon’s nose as real and as solid as the beat of your heart beneath his fingers. “Red wine.” Cabernet hit his tongue, the tannins dancing across his taste buds. The demon smiled, the curl of his lips lopsided as he smiled his iconic half-cocked grin. “The forest.” Greens and browns blinded the demon’s vision.

You sucked in a breath. 

Alastor slowly opened his eyes, his pupils dilating at the sight of you. “And… The humidity of Louisiana…”

You stared back, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

Somewhere, somehow, along the way, Alastor had become a part of you… 

Your heart kicked into a frenzy at what that meant, but still oh-so afraid to voice it…

Three little words and yet…

“The softness of your hair,” Alastor’s claws found your silver locks, his fingers threading through the strands. “Your skin.” The back of the demon’s knuckles traced your cheek. “Your lips.” 

Alastor leaned in and kissed you. His tongue drinking in the lingering taste of you. He broke away for but a moment, “I can feel you.”

The obsidian calling cards gave you an unnatural avenue into the lives of the holders. It allowed you to feel their emotions, to scent their Souls, to taste their desires. The contract opened a connection that you and Rosie had not originally intended - yet didn’t change. Reconfiguring the contract had opened that door and allowed it to flow both ways. It was almost like the connection you shared when you inadvertently signed your verbal contract on the balcony of his radio tower - except this was different. It wasn’t as strong and only allowed you to sense the other - a mere skim of the surface compared to what you had experienced. 

The demon drove you onto your back before settling himself between your legs. With his forehead on yours, the two of you out of breath, he spoke, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine*…"

You didn’t have a chance to switch your brain to French before the demon’s lips were back on yours, his hips perfectly aligned before driving himself in.  

That night, before chaos and destruction, before death and suffering, before fear and heartbreak, you made love to the Radio Demon…

And you prayed - you prayed it wasn't the final time…

* "Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine" = This is an extremely sad quote that has many many meanings even in the French language. It can be translated as "dying from unfulfilled love," "Dying for love, living for hatred," etc... I used it here to mean "dying for love." Read into that how you will, but it's extremely fitting for Alastor's character arc at this point in time.

Last transition chapter - Chapter 18 will be the Finale! There will be alternate endings - please read author note before chapter 18 starts.

-> Chapter 18: My Fawn & My Shadow

-> Chapter 18: Paris

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 0 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail l @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen n @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - Fighting Fire with Fire

author note: aaaaa this is so late! Sorry, sorry – graduation happened and then I was very busy with misc things x-x but this instalment is a little longer to make up for it! Hope you enjoy, Scarabia is up next!

characters: Azul Ashengrotto x GN!Reader

You had only given yourself two objectives when you had realised that you had been transported to the world of Twisted Wonderland.

One: figure out a way to get back to your own world, preferably in one piece.

Two: keep a low profile and avoid the game’s named characters as much as possible.

Unfortunately, none of those objectives had been going well.

Despite your best attempts, you had already run into the game’s first two housewardens. Chapter one of the game had pretty much run on schedule, culminating in Riddle’s eventual overblot. You ran into Leona by fluke, and whilst the encounter was not as terrible as you thought it would be, you still found it less than ideal for your plan to keep a low profile, especially now that Leona would give you the odd nod here and there if you passed each other in the hallway. That caused you to get a few more stares than usual. There was also another curious issue that had caught your attention.

Even with you laying low and keeping yourself out of the main story as much as possible, Leona’s overblot still happened. You had noticed that Crowley had not asked/threatened you into investigating the odd accidents that had been going on around campus in the run up to the spelldrive tournament, which you assumed was because he was still avoiding you so you didn’t hound him about getting home. So even though it wasn’t you who helped uncover the truth about the incidents, the truth still came out and you, through fates untimely intervention, ended up on the Savanaclaw spelldrive field to witness his overblot.

Regarding your attempts to figure out a way home, research had been slow. Whilst Riddle was a great help, he could also be a hindrance. With midterms on the horizon, Riddle had been visiting not to assist you with your research, but to make sure you had been studying properly for the upcoming exams. Because he considered you an honorary member of Heartslabyul, Riddle deemed it his role to make sure you succeeded in your academic endeavours, even going through the effort of making you a study schedule and notes in order for you to maximise your study time efficiently. Although you appreciated the gesture, getting more sidetracked was not what you needed right now. But you figured there were worst things that could happen.

But as usual, fate decided to show you that there were definitely worse things.

You had just gotten to the library, tote bag full of study materials that Riddle had generously lent to you swinging behind you as you weaved through the bookshelves and desks, aiming for your usual table at the back. You figured you could continue your own research and if Riddle showed up, you could just swap the books over and he would be none the wiser.

Of course, you had no idea that a whole bigger problem than Riddle Rosehearts was awaiting you. Because when you rounded the corner that enclosed your library table, the devil himself was waiting for you.

Or in this case, Azul Ashengrotto.

“Ah! There you are prefect!” Azul exclaimed, slamming one of your research books shut which he had clearly been nosing through, “I have been waiting for you. I trust your classes went well today?” He smiled at you, that usual picture perfect, business smile affixed to his face. All you could do was stare blankly at him, willing every muscle in your face not to react so that you didn’t give him an opening.

Why were you running into Azul?! Chapter three started after midterms! You still had some time before then, brain already working overtime in an attempt to figure out what was the best way to lay low against a whole dorm that excelled in subterfuge and deceit. You were shaken from your thoughts by the sounds of chair legs scrapping against the floor, as Azul got to his feet.

“Say, prefect… Midterms are coming up and it seems to me that you have all the wrong content here,” Azul started as he gestured to the table with all your research materials gathered, “why don’t we take a walk and we can discuss exactly what I can do to help you…”

Oh no. No, no, no.

Without a word, you span on your heel and started to march out of the library, not looking back or faltering in your step. It seemed like you’d actually be studying for your midterms back at Ramshackle today. Riddle would be thrilled.

“My, prefect where are you going?” Azul called after you, and you didn’t have to imagine the predatory smile on his face now that your back was turned, “I only want to talk!”

The library door slammed behind you and you hightailed it back to Ramshackle dorm.

After classes ended the next day, you took the risky decision to return to the library. But this time, you had a plan. Having called in a small favour from the library ghosts that you have become friendly with, you began your walk over to your usual table. Unfortunately, but as expected, Azul was waiting for you, his perfect business smile fixed on his face.

“Prefect, so good to see you.” Azul said, voice smooth as he leaned against one of the chairs. You had to wonder how long he had been standing there, posed like that, waiting for you to turn the corner. You ignored him as you slipped your tote bag of your shoulder and took your usual seat, pretending like he was not there. There was a beat of silence as you found your bookmark and continued reading your book in the place you had left off on, but of course the silent treatment wouldn’t work on someone as adaptable as Azul.

“Ahem, prefect, if you would…”

“Three.” You said loudly, not looking up as you turned over the page of your book. In your peripheral vision, you watched as Azul freeze.

“… Prefect?” Azul enquired, smile frozen on his face.

“Two.” You continued, eyes glued to the book in front of you. The other books rattled on the table, one even flipping open, the pages flapping dramatically before slamming back shut. Azul lifted a hand to adjust his glasses in his usual move to mask the surprise and unease that threatened to destroy his perfect smile. “Why are you—”

“One.” Finally, you looked up, looking directly into his eyes. You were satisfied to see he looked appropriately unnerved, but the best was still to come.

“BOO!!!”

Azul jumped so hard that his glasses went askew, and you couldn’t help the amused smirk that spread across your face as he flapped to regain his composure. The library ghost that had popped out and spooked Azul cackled mischievously and flew around the table a few times before disappearing, giving you the chance to mask your face back into an indifferent expression when Azul turned his attention back to you, still looking a bit shocked. You only offered a small shrug in consolation.

“Those library ghosts can sure be cheeky sometimes.” You said nonchalantly, flitting your eyes back down to your book without another word. Silence fell again, and you swore you heard a small, disgruntled huff before Azul took his leave.

Today, victory was yours.

You had one full day of peace from Azul before he was back again like nothing had happened. You shouldn’t have been surprised, Azul had a tenacity that sometimes made you wonder why the Dark Mirror had not placed him in Pomefiore. And for whatever reason, he had decided that you were very interesting.

He began popping up everywhere. You kept seeing him in the corridors, flashing you a smile that could be fool anyone as being kind. He’d somehow appear behind you in the lunch queue, even if he wasn’t there a minute before. You even decided to avoid the library for a few days, punishing yourself to study for midterms in the creaky Ramshackle dorm, and even then you saw him on your walk back, conveniently placed near the hall of mirrors or the botanical gardens, giving you a friendly wave when you passed. Well, for what passed as friendly with Azul. It was becoming increasingly clear to you, Azul was not going away.

You wracked your brain as to why Azul had taken such an interest in you. You know that when the main character made a deal with him in book three, he had his sights set on Ramshackle dorm so that he could open a branch café of the Mostro Lounge, and it was obvious that this was his agenda still now. But he had never come after the main character this… fiercely, so why was he pursuing you with such aggression?!

You chalked it up to another one of fate’s cruel pranks.

Determined, you continued to ignore his constant presence. With all the studying for midterms that you had been doing, you were convinced that you might actually get a decent grade this time round. Riddle expressed his pleasure at your diligent studying, having been miffed that he had not seen you at your usual spot in the library but delighted to know that you had finally knuckled down on your preparation for midterms.

But you couldn’t continue studying at Ramshackle forever. With Ramshackle came Grim, and with Grim came Ace and Deuce. And when you threw in the Ramshackle ghosts, you had an environment that definitely wasn’t suitable for studying. So inevitably, you ended up back at the library. Once again, you had one day of peace before Azul’s channels of information got back to him that you were back at the library because the very next day, Azul was waiting for you.

“Ah, prefect!” Azul said cheerfully, going so far as to pull out your chair for you, “I’m glad to run into you again. I must have missed you the last few times I have come to the library, I haven’t seen you here!” Azul’s business smile was out in full force today, and your lips pursed as you took your seat, ignoring Azul as he tried to help your push your chair in, not that it phased him at all. Azul was in top form today.

“Now, I’ve have something that I’d like to discuss with you…” Azul began as he took a seat opposite you, folding his hands in front of him neatly. You ignored him as you reached into your tote bag and opened one of your study books, deciding to brush up on some alchemy terms.

“It has been brought to my attention that…” Azul cleared his throat delicately, and leans forward slightly, lowering his voice, “now, I know that your situation is a little… delicate, but please be assured, I can help.” You continued to ignore him, trying your best to memorise the endless amounts of alchemy components that you had apparently learned this semester. A hand gently placed itself on top of your textbook, and you looked up to see Azul with his perfected faux expression of mixed pity and sympathy, which you were sure had won him over many clients in the past. For you, it just made your stomach turn.

“I know you’re failing. Multiple subjects, in fact.” Azul said quietly, and your eyes narrowed at him. “And who told you that?” You asked bluntly, and Azul pulled his hand back, holding up in the air in a gesture seeking peace, “now, now… You know I have to abide by client confidentiality… But you know how friends talk…” Azul purred, a predatory glint in his eyes as he smiled at you.

Great, so somebody had talked. You wondered who it could be, Ace? Deuce? Grim? Not that it mattered. Now Azul was determined to get his claws sunk into you, and you needed to deter him. Fast.

“While I appreciate your concern, I’m doing just fine. You could say that I’ve got friends in high places where are looking out for me. One even gave me a study schedule. You may know him, he’s at the top of the second-year rankings, after all.” You retorted with a sickly-sweet smile, feeling glad to have gotten that dig in, knowing Riddle and Azul’s competitive history. Azul’s smile never faltered, though his eyes did harden slightly.

“Ah, but you have so many subjects to learn in such a short amount of time. Midterms are next week.” Azul pointed out, a hand moving to rest on his chest with a flourish, “with a copy of my notes for each subject, you are guaranteed to improve your grades, enough that the professors will not give you a hard time over it. I know I could never understand, but it must be so difficult being the school’s only magicless student. You poor, unfortunate soul. I would rest so much easier at night knowing that you weren’t struggling unnecessarily.”

Your eye twitched at that, the urge to throw one of the heavy, leather-bound tomes at your side directly at Azul’s head growing thick and fast. “I said I wasn’t interested.” You responded firmly through gritted teeth. You had hoped the sly mention of Riddle would get Azul off your back, but clearly you were being naïve. Your eyes fell back down to your textbook as silence fell between you again, hoping through some fluke that ignoring Azul would make him leave you alone, but of course it wouldn’t.

“Well, if you don’t want to make a deal based on a grades perspective…” Azul mused allowed, his smile turning a tad more sinister, “how about this? Think of all the time you’ll have free to spend working on your interesting little side project if you don’t have to worry about your grades?” Azul’s fingers stroked along the spine of one of your many research books and you froze.

Now, you knew that one of your main goals was to keep a low profile in Twisted Wonderland until you figured out a way home. And if you deluded yourself hard enough, you could believe that to some extent, you had. But whilst you could tolerate Azul’s stalking, his faux friendly behaviour in the corridors and in the lunch line, and his many attempts to solicit you in the library and rope you into a predatory deal that you had no hopes of ever completing, there was one thing that you would never let slide.

And that was someone attempting to foil your plans to get back home.

Your eyes hardened as you gazed over at Azul. You needed to get rid of him, to deter him so strongly that he’d be hesitant to ever approach you again so lightly. And you knew just the way to do it.

You didn’t want to do it to him, but in your defence, he had started it. And in the types of games that he liked to play, you had to fight fire with fire.

Your pursed lips melted into a smile as you leaned forward. “Why don’t you make a deal with me instead, Azul?” You offered, crooking your finger in a motion to call him closer to you. Whilst he seemed hesitant, he was clearly intrigued by your suggestion and leaned closed to you as you looked him dead in the eye, speaking in a hush tone.

“You’re going to leave me alone. Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell every single person I walk past that they should take some time to visit the Atlantica Memorial Museum in the Coral Sea. I’ll tell them ‘hey! I know there is a really cool statue that catches your eye as soon as you enter, but you should really take a moment to check out the photographs right by the door. There are some very cute pictures there, especially one with the prince of the Coral Sea!’ You never know what you might find, right Azul?” You watched the colour drain from Azul’s face with every word you spoke, barely able to mask his horror at what you were telling him.

“H-how… Who…” He was flustered now, recoiling away from you like you had slapped him before leaning back closer to hiss at you, “how do you know about that?!” Azul was incredulous, so shocked at the dirt you had on him that he couldn’t even begin to deny it. He had to— no, he needed to know how you knew, like his very life depended on it.

“You’d be surprised what I know about you, Azul.” You responded cooly, leaning back in your chair and levelling him with a severe stare. “Things you’ve worked so hard to keep secret. I’m happy to keep them secret for you too, but you see, the thing is…” Your eyes narrowed at him now, and if he could have gotten paler, he would have, “when I get irritated, say by being constantly bothered by someone who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer…” You started to raise your voice with every word, “I get louder, and louder and…”

“Okay, okay!” Azul recoiled from you with an audible thump against his chair. He looked frazzled; pale faced with sweat beading on his forehead, “l-let’s not be rash, prefect. I see now that…” Azul cleared his throat, desperate to claw back some of his composure as he quickly stood from his chair, not even bothering to tuck it back in, “I see now that I’ve disturbed you during an incredibly important time. I apologise. I’ll take my leave, and I hope you can use your… Discretion not to act impulsively on this… Sensitive matter?”

You flashed Azul a serene smile that was not at all genuine, and he knew it. “I’ll try my best. There’s only so much I’m capable of. You know, being a magicless student and all.” You uttered with sweetness, and you thought you heard a low whine from Azul before he quickly made his escape, hurrying out the library with his dignity in tatters.

You smiled to yourself as you slowly pushed your study textbook aside. You knew it was a very risky move to threaten Azul like that, and there was a good chance that you might find yourself tied up and thrown in the sea by the end of the semester for so boldly confronting him. This wasn’t the last you would see of him, Azul too calculating to let you, a loose end that he never dreamed of encountering, go free. But for now, you could relish in the small, peaceful reprieve you had given yourself as you pulled one of your research books in front of you, finally continuing where you had left off.

[julymusings]

Can we also get a desi reader for Tim, Bruce, and aged up damian, please?

Bruce Wayne x South Asian!Reader

ok i did say whatever you ask is yours...but tbh i'm not much of an anyone-other-than-jason-or-dick girlie (i knowww i'm sorry). maybe in the future i'll write for the others but for now here's some bruce content. hope it's okay pleeease don't hate me. also sorry this took literally 50 years i was going thru some stuff💀

batboys x south asian!reader masterlist

I think he’d try really hard to impress you by taking you to those super fancy Michelin star Indian fusion restaurants. They’re good but don’t have quite the same charm as home cooked Indian food, so you bring him back to your place and cook for him.

I’m gonna be real here…all that man really needs is a kiss and one of grandma’s recipes. You feed him a bite straight from the pot and the softness and intimacy of the action alone almost has him in tears, never mind the love and warmth of a home cooked meal

You two come back to your place late one night after an event and you’re craving some comfort food, so you heat up some leftover rice with ghee and jaggery, and he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction when he tries it, but when you guys have a fight that results in you not seeing each other for a few days, when you finally return to the manor Alfred informs you that was the only thing he ate because it reminds him of you and he missed you😭

I imagine not being very used to how much money he has, so some of the wealthy stuff he does is kinda weird to you. Seriously, this man has been a billionaire his entire life, so you can’t tell me that at least a morsel of Brucie Wayne’s financial out-of-touchness isn’t a tiny bit real

You tell him that in your culture, it’s common to gift gold at really special milestones/occasions. But he gets carried away.

He buys you a bunch of gold jewelry, like for every occasion and it’s like…real, solid, 22k gold. You try to tell him that it’s too much and you don’t need anymore and please stop buying it but he’s just like “why🤨🤨? That gold necklace was only a thousand dollars that’s so cheap” and you make him stand in the corner

I think he’d feel so weird about not wearing shoes at your place but you make him get used to it🤷‍♀️

He’s a genius fr so he picks up your language very easily

You love the super extra Uber-dramatic soap operas and it’s a guilty pleasure of yours to watch them before bed. I can just imagine the two of you huddled together in bed watching them on your laptop. He makes sure all the TVs in the house have all the channels you like. Eventually he can’t sleep without watching them either😭

I think he’d love certain perfume scents that are from South Asia, and he’d buy you fancy those perfume oils

I’m sorry but…I can NOT see this man wearing a kurta. Like I just don’t think he’d do it.

Lighting incense in the batcave. That’s all

incorporating this ask bc it's relevant:

One day you’re making chai, and you ask him to bring the pot from the stove to the counter for you. That thing^ is lying next to the stove, but he doesn't know what that is. And since he can withstand intense levels of pain without flinching he just. Picks up the boiling pot with his bare hands and brings it to you.

"Why didn't you use the clamp?!" "How was I supposed to know what that thing was!!" You show him how to use it but he's kinda petty ("Why can't you just use a normal pot with a normal handle?! Why are you making more work for yourself?") so he refuses to use it and just keeps handling the pot with his bare hands.

But one day you're deep in conversation while making chai. The pot is boiling and he handles it anyway, but you're distracted and you forget that he can do that. You assume it's not hot so you touch it and burn yourself and he feels sooo bad. He's kissing all over your hands and pampering you for the whole day. He finally gives in and just starts using the stupid clamp.

I hc Bruce as being a consistent meditator. He probably spent a lot of time learning about it while training across the world and it helps him feel grounded and calm. He tries to get his kids to do it too, but they don't all like it as much as him. So if you meditate with him every now and then he really appreciates that.

You try to get him into yoga along with it and he's like...scarily good at it. He's not super flexible like Dick, so he chooses to opt out of the super bendy poses, but his core strength is unmatched. He can balance his entire bodyweight on one limb no sweat. He's not wobbling, shaking, or tipping over. He's still as a statue and he can last for hours. (😏)

If you get married, I don’t think it would be a huge event. Like there would probably be some kind of reception that’s more of a formality/business event than anything else where he puts on Brucie Wayne, but for the actual ceremony I think it would just be the family

He'd fly you to your home country to have the ceremony there at some super fancy historical attraction. Even if it's just you and some other close people, he's getting the whole place shut down for the day just for you.

I can’t imagine needing to step into a stepmom role for anyone? Except maybe Cass, Duke, and Damian when his mom isn’t around. The four of you DEFINITELY gang up on Bruce all the time and make fun of his whiteness.

You’d also totally gift them traditional wear

The first time you make dinner for everyone, you make it spicy and everyone loves it, but Bruce is just sitting there SWEATING

He’s so good at keeping a poker face that you wouldn’t have even been able to tell it was too spicy for him if not for the beads of sweat on his face. You give him milk to help soothe the heat but he never lives it down

But you actually are so mothering to the kids, you make them turmeric milk when they’re sick and chai with biscuits when they come home from school🫶and it's so sweet it makes Bruce fall for you all over again

When you move in the whole wearing shoes in the house still bothers you, but you can’t stop everyone else from doing it, so you declare your bedroom a no shoes zone. Bruce can wear shoes anywhere else in the house but NOT your bedroom.

And if you still feel weird about wearing shoes around the manor, he'll buy you a bunch of pairs of home slippers and stash them all over the place

Whenever you stay over he brings you chai in the morning. Once you're married and living with him, he brings it to you in bed every morning. At one point he's like "You know Alfred can bring it for both of us" but you insist it tastes so much better when it's from him, and he can't say no to you.

me personally i like to support women's organizations in south asia, i.e. access to education and better healthcare which means things like menstrual products & obgyn care so i am going to hc that after you share how passionate you are about those, WE partners with an existing charity for those issues, both in south asia and other parts of the world and raises tons of money to donate...take that if you like it (world so bad we writing fanfic about equality now😭)

Since he's a famous billionaire playboy he 100% has an internet presence (likely curated to fit Brucie) and there are tons of edits and memes about him. When the world finds out his partner is south asian, brown people probably go a little insane and there's definitely tons of those memes where they photoshop his face over someone in traditional wear and caption it "Bajju Wagle" or some other name with his initials LMAO