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batmanlovesnirvana · 1 day ago

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— ‘our love still remains.’

BRUCE WAYNE X FEM!READER

ONE SHOT | angst, death, murder, depression, drugs, suicidal thoughts.

synopsis : A year had passed since you died, but grief lingered, clinging to Bruce like the ash of a fire long extinguished.

A/N : This was inspired by this haunting scene between Thomas Shelby and Grace’s ghost. It’s one of my favorite moments—so raw and emotional—and I couldn’t help but feel it resonates deeply with Bruce. The weight of grief, love, and unresolved pain feels like a perfect fit for his character.

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes!

WAYNE MANOR had never seemed so empty.

A place once filled with quiet purpose, with the steady rhythm of lives intertwined, was now a mausoleum—a tomb for memories that Bruce could neither escape nor embrace.

You had been dead for a year, and with you, everything human in him had begun to rot.

He was barely functional. No. That wasn't right. He wasn't functional at all.

A ghost of himself wandered these halls, sat in these rooms, wore his skin, but it wasn't him.

Not anymore.

The fire in the study crackled weakly, but its warmth never reached him. It flickered, casting trembling shadows on the dark oak walls, as if mocking his inability to burn with anything but guilt.

Bruce sat hunched in his chair, his head low, his shirt disheveled and sleeves rolled up.

The man who had once stood as Gotham's unshakable guardian, a force of sheer will, was now a fractured thing.

His eyes, sunken and bloodshot, stared into the flames, but they saw nothing. He didn't need to see. He had already memorized the way the world looked without you in it.

The decanter of whiskey shimmered in the firelight, its amber liquid untouched at his side. He had never been one to drink—not before. But since you'd been gone, nothing was the same.

Tonight, though, the glass remained full. Not yet. Not for this.

He couldn't dull the edges of this particular torment. He had to feel it, let it pull him under, heavy and unrelenting, like a stone tethered to his chest, dragging him to the depths.

His hand hovered over the glass, fingers curling tightly around it, the tension in his knuckles sharp and pale. The tremor wasn't from the cold but from the brutal weight of his own restraint. His mind hissed its merciless refrain, over and over, unyielding:

It should've been me. Not you.

Me. Not you.

The glass gave way with a brittle snap, the shards biting into his palm, the sound cutting through the suffocating quiet like a scream. He didn't flinch. The brief sting was insignificant, a pale shadow of the raw, festering wound buried deep within—a wound that time had refused to heal, a wound that still bled.

He craves the burn. Craves the searing pain, the consuming fire that might finally match the inferno raging inside him—the fire that could never touch you the way it's devoured him.

The night presses close, suffocating and merciless, but he doesn't move.

He doesn't patrol. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat.

He simply exists, caught in the liminal space where grief and guilt coil around each other, tightening like a noose. Waiting—for the silence to break, for the weight to crush him, for something, anything, to drag him back from the edge of this endless void.

The door sighed as it swung open, the faint creak swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

Alfred entered, a silver tray balanced in his steady hands, its polished surface catching the flickering glow of the fire. Every movement was deliberate, quiet, as though the room itself demanded reverence. He set the tray down with a soft clink, his weathered face composed, but his eyes—sharp and searching—betrayed the concern he could no longer contain.

"Master Wayne..." His voice was soft, hesitant, like stepping onto fragile ground.

Bruce didn't stir. His gaze remained fixed on the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes like ghosts of battles fought and lost.

Undeterred, Alfred took a step closer, his measured footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. "I thought you might need something to eat. It's been... some time." His tone was calm, but beneath it lay a quiet plea.

The silence stretched, vast and unyielding. Bruce remained a statue, motionless, unhearing—or perhaps unwilling to hear.

Alfred lingered, his hands clasped behind his back. He studied the man slumped in the chair, once an unshakable force—a sentinel against the darkness, a man who bore the weight of Gotham like it was his birthright.

But now?

Now, he was something hollow.

A shadow consumed by grief, its edges blurred, its substance eaten away until nothing but silence remained.

"No patrol tonight, then?" Alfred asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bruce's hands trembled faintly—not from the cold, nor from the blood still drying on his knuckles—but from something far deeper, raw and unrelenting.

The old butler sighed.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a small glass vial and placed it on the tray with deliberate care. The gesture was quiet, pointed—a subtle admonition wrapped in concern.

"I'm worried, sir," Alfred said, his voice thick with the weight of restrained emotion. "About the medicine. You've been relying on it too much."

Bruce's eyes flicked to the vial, his fingers curling involuntarily, but his lips remained sealed.

His gaze turned distant, unfocused, as though he were retreating into some unreachable corner of his mind. The flicker of firelight played across his expression, but it gave nothing away. The silence, though, spoke volumes.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth feeble against the icy void that seemed to envelop the room.

"She wouldn't want this," Alfred ventured at last, his voice trembling at the edges. The words came haltingly, heavy with pain. Saying them was a struggle; even he found it difficult to speak of her. "I know it's hard, but—"

But he faltered.

What could he say to a man who had lost so much? To a man who believed the one constant in his life—the one light in his endless night—had slipped from his grasp because of him? What comfort could Alfred offer someone who carried the unbearable weight of guilt and grief and punished himself for it, day after day?

Not even the ever-thoughtful Alfred had answers for that.

He lingered for a moment longer, his weathered gaze heavy with unspoken worry, before letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. Stepping back, he retreated as softly as he'd entered, unwilling to disturb the fragile stillness any further.

The door closed behind him with a muted click, leaving Bruce alone once more in the oppressive quiet, the firelight casting shadows that danced like ghosts around the room.

Bruce didn't move. The tray remained untouched, its polished surface glinting dully in the flickering firelight. The room seemed colder somehow, emptier, as though the flames themselves were losing the will to fight against the encroaching dark.

The silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating.

His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, reaching for the vial. His fingers trembled as they closed around the cool glass, the faint quiver betraying the storm raging beneath his impassive exterior. He held it up, watching the liquid swirl under the amber glow of the fire. For a moment, he hesitated—then tipped his head back, letting the bitter contents slide down his throat in one unbroken motion.

The burn was sharp. Familiar. Almost comforting.

But it fixed nothing.

The ache inside him remained, raw and unrelenting. He stayed rooted to the chair, unable to move, the weight of his grief pinning him down. His eyes drifted to the shards of glass scattered across the carpet, their jagged edges catching the firelight like cruel reflections of his fractured soul.

With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled the empty vial into the flames. It shattered on impact, the fire greedily consuming the fragments until nothing remained.

His head dropped into his hands, shoulders curling inward as though trying to shield himself from the crushing weight of everything he couldn't escape. The room fell silent again, save for the crackle of the fire, each ember rising like a ghost of what once was.

And then, it happened. Just as it always did.

The impossible.

You appeared.

Bruce's cold, detached eyes flickered, his breath hitching as the warmth of an illusion—one he neither welcomed nor could let go—took shape before him.

You were perched on the edge of the canopy seat by the window, your silk pajamas catching the soft firelight in a way that felt achingly real. One leg was tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily, your toes grazing the rug in that familiar way that sent a sharp pang through his chest.

Your hair spilled loose around your shoulders, soft and untamed, just as it had on those stolen nights when dawn would catch you both mid-conversation, the rest of the world forgotten.

And then there was the smile. That quiet, tender smile—the one that had unraveled him every time, breaking through walls he hadn't even realized he'd built.

Bruce swallowed hard, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke.

"What now?"

Bruce's bitter smile wavered as you tilted your head, amusement flickering in your eyes like embers in the fire.

"What am I, a genie?" you teased, your voice light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken. Your gaze darted to the flames, where the shattered remnants of the vial had disappeared. "Summoning me with your little bottle of dope now?"

His laugh was dry, almost inaudible. "I take it for the pain," he murmured, the words heavy, fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of his grief. His eyes found yours, softening in a way that made him feel utterly exposed. "To keep warm."

You moved then, gliding across the room with that effortless grace he had memorized, your bare feet soundless against the carpet. He stiffened when he felt your fingers ghost across his shoulder—a touch too warm, too tender to be real. Yet he didn't pull away.

"Is that what it's for?" you asked, your voice wrapping around him like a balm for a wound that would never heal. "The warmth?"

Bruce closed his eyes, his head dipping forward slightly as if trying to catch just a moment more of the phantom sensation. "The warmth," he echoed, his voice breaking. "All this time..."

You moved again, slipping into the space beside him on the couch, your presence as vivid as the firelight dancing in his peripheral vision.

He turned toward you, and for the briefest, most treacherous moment, it felt real—your scent, your nearness, the way you looked at him like you could see straight through to his soul.

He leaned in, his breath catching as he inhaled the memory of you, his eyes fluttering shut in the desperate hope that he could hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer.

But deep down, he knew.

It wasn't real.

It never was.

The realization struck like a knife twisting in his chest, but he clung to the illusion all the same. He would take anything—anything—to feel you again, even if it was a cruel lie conjured by his own fractured mind.

To touch you. To kiss you. To lose himself in you, the only solace he had ever known.

Since your death, there had been no one else. No empty arms, no fleeting connections. He didn't want anyone else. Couldn't. It was always you. It would always be you.

"I know," you whispered, your hand brushing his cheek in a gesture so gentle, it nearly broke him. His breath hitched, a tear slipping free.

"Our love still remains," you said, your words a quiet promise in the suffocating silence.

And you were right.

Because no matter who tried to step into his life, none of them could ever compare to you.

Bruce's head bowed, his shoulders trembling as he pressed his forehead to the illusion of your hand.

He didn't speak, didn't dare. He let the hallucination linger, let it fill the gaping void inside him for as long as it would. When it faded—and it always did—the cold would return, and he would be alone once more.

They lingered in that fragile silence, heavy with the weight of unsaid words, the room echoing with everything neither could bear to voice.

At last, you broke it, your tone steady yet tender. "But you have to listen, Bruce. To the voices you hear. To what they're telling you."

His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes squeezing shut as if to block out everything but you. "There's too much to do," he whispered, his voice trembling, breaking under the strain. His breath hitched unevenly. "The kids... the city... it never stops."

When he finally opened his eyes, they met yours, glassy and filled with unshed tears. "I need to say goodbye," he confessed, his voice a raw whisper, hoarse and fractured.

He rubbed his face with trembling hands, weary to his bones. "I need to sleep... just for a little while."

Your hands cradled his face again, grounding him in the moment, as real to him as the warmth of the fire. "Then think, Bruce," you urged, your voice a mix of unwavering love and quiet strength. "Think about what I would tell you. About what you need to do."

A tear slipped down his cheek, his body trembling as he leaned into the phantom touch. He tried to form words, but they came out as fractured pieces of his anguish. "It's too much... I can't... I should've..."

His voice cracked and faltered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've protected you. I should've saved you."

"You don't need to apologize," you said softly, your voice cutting through his despair like a light in the dark. "I was never angry with you, Bruce. I never could be."

His chest clenched painfully, a fresh wave of tears spilling free. "But I failed you," he choked out, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't fail me," you replied, your words sharp yet soothing. "But you're failing yourself."

You moved in closer, kneeling in front of him, your hands lifting his face so his eyes met yours.

There was a love in your gaze that steadied him, but also something more—a heaviness, a truth he couldn't yet name. "This isn't the way, Bruce. I won't let you destroy yourself like this."

His grief overtook him, his entire frame trembling with the force of it. "I can't let go," he admitted, his voice breaking as fresh sobs racked his body. "Not of you. Not yet."

Your smile returned, soft and filled with sadness. "Then let go of the pain," you said gently. "Let go of the guilt. Let go of the past. I'm here, but I can't stay. Not like this. Not while you're lost in the dark."

His heart shattered again, the pieces cutting deeper, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"Please," he whispered, his voice raw, pleading, desperate. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone."

But you were already slipping away, your warmth dissipating like smoke, fading from his grasp.

He reached out, his hands trembling, but there was nothing there—nothing to hold onto. The room grew colder, your presence vanishing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the silence.

The fire crackled softly, its flames flickering weakly against the oppressive darkness. The emptiness of the room settled over him, pressing down with a weight he couldn't bear.

"I'll never let go," he whispered, his voice fragile, a shattered promise he knew he could never keep.

But you were gone. And the silence consumed everything.

Bruce's hand lingered on his cheek, still warm from where you'd touched him, but it too began to cool, slipping away too quickly.

Long moments passed before his voice cracked through the stillness, breaking the silence like glass. "I'll think," he murmured into the void. "I promise."

Even as the words left his lips, they felt empty—hollow echoes in a room full of nothing.

As hollow as the man who spoke them.

go check [ TU’BURNI (Bruce Wayne fic) ]

Little thing while I write the next chapters of TU’BURNI :)

I’ve been considering publishing one of my Tommy Shelby fics, so if anyone’s interested, please lmk.

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne #batman #the batman #dc comics #the batman 2022 #dc movies #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman x you #bruce wayne x you #oneshot #battinson #batfleck #bale!batman x reader #gotham

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hjbirthdaywishes · 5 months ago

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June 19, 2024

Happy 46 Birthday to Zoe Saldaña.

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in1-nutshell · 10 months ago

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Hello! I was just babysitting a friends toddler a while ago. He was four and already LOVED transformers. He expecially loved Bumblebee, and got this mini figure of a Bumblebee (I forgot what version unfortunately) that he thinks is like a guardian angel that can chase away nightmares and monsters and even turn him into a transformer one day as well! And this was SOO cute! So may I request a scenario of G1, TFP, TFA, as well as ROTB Bumblebee meeting a human equivalent of a sparkling that absolutely ADORED him and think he can do anything? Who even claims when he grows up he wants to be a transformer too just like Bee and fight alongside him one day?

All of this... so CUTE! First time I'm doing a multi version of the same character, so hopefully this turns out good! If this isn't what you wanted please let me know!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy the Toddler wanting to be like Bumblebee

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

G1, TFP, TFA, ROTB

Bumblebee is flustered by the toddler wanting to be just like him when they grow up.

He makes them an honorary Autobot.

He chuckles to himself when they tell him about their dream of actually becoming a Cybertronain like him.

“Is that what you really want?”--Bumblebee

“Yeah! You’re so cool and, and you transforming is cool!”--Buddy

“Well, just don’t let Wheeljack or Grampa Sparkplug find out.”--Bumblebee

“Why?”--Buddy

Flashbacks to Autobot Spike incident.

“Trust me, you’re much better off being yourself.”--Bumblebee

“Really?”--Buddy

“Of course! Now let’s go see what the others are doing.”--Bumblebee

When he hears them talking about fighting alongside him, he tries to distract them with telling them about all the better ways of fighting the Decepitcons as a human.

This usually works and they get fixated on other things for the time being.

He does keep a close eye on the toddler in case they do try and go outside of the base or near Wheeljacks lab.

Gets Chip, Carly, Spike and Sparkplug to help better understand the dangers of being a bot and being out in the field.

Occasionally bringing in a guest bot… that’s fit to tell things to them.

“That should be that last speaker. Thanks again Blaster.”--Bumblebee

“No probs Bee! It was fun to talk to the little one.”--Blaster

“Yeah—wait why is the door still closed? I thought that was the last speaker.”--Bumblebee

“Oh, yeah I let Red in there. He said he wanted to have a short talk with Tiny.”--Spike

“Red… Red who—”--Blaster

“Spike, did you let Red Alert in the room?”--Bumblebee

“Yeah?”--Spike

“Oh Primus!”--Blaster

Blaster trying to open the door.

“Red! They’re too young! Open the door!”--Blaster

“You can’t make me! They are never too young to learn about safety protocols.”—Red Alert

“But not ALL of them!”--Bumblebee

“I will call Inferno if you don’t open the door in the next 10 seconds.”--Blaster

“Its okay Mr. Bumblebee! Mr. Blaster! Mr. Red Alert is teaching me how to lock a lock! It’s so cool! It’s like I’m in a spy movie!”--Buddy

“No, not cool, not cool! Someone get Inferno!”--Bumblebee

TFP

Bee, like G1, is a bit flustered that they want to be just like him when they grow up.

When they mention about actually wanting to be a bot, he humors them a bit.

“Beep bop bep? (So you think you got what it talks to be a big bot?)”--Bumblebee

“Yes!”--Buddy

“Bop boop bep beep bep bop.(But being a big bot means that you can’t help Miko color anymore.)”--Bumblebee

“… I’ll think about it.”--Buddy

But he is immediately against them going out to fight.

He’ll highlight all the things they can do that he can’t do, that he needs their help to be able to do it. Buddy changes their mind… for now.

Bumblebee needs their help, so they are going to help him!

He is now on the lookout in case tiny decides to pull a Miko.

Teams up with Raf to explain why they can’t run head first into danger.

Bumblebee looking over to see Buddy and Miko ‘playing’ a video game with Raf and Jack.

“Hey Bee! Mind giving me a help with the cart for a second? I forgot to attached the cart but I’m already in vehicle form…”--Bulkhead

“Beep! (sure!)”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee attaches a cart to Bulkhead.

“Thanks!”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead driving with the cart into the groundbridge.

Bee waving goodbye before looking back at the kids.

Miko and Buddy are nowhere to be seen.

“Bop, bep beep bep? (Raf, where’s Miko and Buddy?)”--Bumblebee

“Oh, they went to get some soda’s in the other room.”--Raf

Bee’s com link sounds.

“Bep? (Hello?)”--Bumblebee

“I am so sorry…”--Bulkhead

“Bep? (what?)”--Bumbleee

“Hi Mr. Bumblebee! I’m with Mr. Bulkhead and Miko! The caves are so pretty here!”--Buddy

“…”--Bumblebee

“Bee?”--Bulkhead

Sports car transforming noises intensifies.

TFA

Bumblebee lives for the attention and absolutely hypes them up too.

They want to be like him when they grow up. Of course, who else wouldn’t want to be this? The fastest thing on 4 wheels is a great honor.

They actually want to be a bot? Okay, maybe not bot bot but technorganic is still new.

Maybe Buddy might be one too, there is only one way to find out!

“Bumblebee did you bring the circuit—What in the Allspark are you doing!”--Ratchet

Buddy on a high shelf with a helmet on while Bumblebee is at the bottom of the shelf with a pillow.

“Hi Mr. Ratchet! I’m gonna try and fly like Sari! Bumblebee is helping me!”--Buddy

“Oh, is that right? Well as soon as you’re on the ground I need to have a word with Bumblebee.”--Ratchet

“Why?”--Buddy

“Because… the grownups need to talk.”--Ratchet

Ratchet looking at Bumblebee with the ‘I will throw my wrenches at you when they are gone’.

Actually, fight by his side? He puts a stop there.

He tries to reason with them a little bit, mainly pointing out that they could get really hurt and then he would be very sad.

He is surprised that this has worked for a long time.

Teams up with the rest of the team and Sari to explain to Buddy about not going out into dangerous places yet.

Yet.

“C’mon you two it’s time to show everyone your costume!”--Ratchet

“… You promise not to laugh?”--Buddy

“Of course, not now come out we got some trick or treating to get too! You don’t want to best candy to get eaten.”--Bumblebee

“It’s okay I’ll come out with Buddy.”--Sari

“Okay on the count of three… two… one… go!”--Optimus

Sari coming out in her modified Optimus Prime costume with Buddy holding her hand with a homemade Bumblebee costume.

“Aww! Look at that love the color you two! Hey Bumblebee, what do—”--Bulkhead

Bumblebee trying so hard not to cry.

“Are you crying?”--Bulkhead

“N—no”--Bumblebee

“I did after my hero Bumblebee!”--Buddy

Bumblebee is now trying to hold back a full-on sob.

“You sure you’re not crying?”--Prowl

ROTB

Bee is warmed when he hears that the little one looks up to him like that.

It is nice to hear someone say that.

“Bumblebee! Bumblebee!”--Buddy

Bumblebee looking at them waving.

“Look what I drew today!”--Buddy

Bumblebee looking at a picture of him and Buddy holding hands with ‘My Hero!’ written in blue crayon.

“Do you like it? It’s yours!”--Buddy

Bumblebee gently holding Buddy in his servo giving a hug while whirling happy tunes.

When Buddy talks about wanting to be a real bot, he explains as simply as he can that right now it isn’t possible.

Yet there is still hope.

Fighting by his side is completely out of the question. He is not letting them anywhere near the fight if he can help it.

Will have a spark attack if he sees that they stowed away.

Bumblebee has to get help from Noah and Kris so Buddy can understand why it’s dangerous to stowaway.

“But I want to go too!”--Buddy

“So do I Buddy but things can get really bad out there.”--Kris

“And you can’t stowaway in cars. That’s a bad thing to do.”--Noah

“But Mirage said that you tried to carjack him when you two met. I’m pretty sure that that’s even more illegal.”--Buddy

Bee laughing through his radio with Mirage while Kirs is trying to hold it in.

“… Mirage you’re not babysitting them for the next month.”--Noah

#transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp #tfp x reader #transformers g1 #g1 x platonic reader #human buddy #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #transformers rotb #g1 bumblebee #tfp bumblebee x platonic reader #tfa bumblebee #rotb bumblebee

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kendo-64 · 8 months ago

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After escaping the blazing inferno, the instigators will now feel the wrath of the guardian.

#sonic #sonic fanart #sonic au #tails #sonic and tails #sonic the hedgehog #knuckles #miles tails prower #sonic art #knuckles fanart #sonic manga

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circeyoru · 4 months ago

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Once Upon A Dream = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Malleus Draconia!Reader]

The Request

The bells of judgment rang all throughout Hell as the red sky was split open like there was a crack in the glass. A golden crack that poured in winged humanoids dressed in black and white, with horned masks covering the soldiers’ head, in their hands held spears of silvery colour that shine and reflect any form of light that shines on it. Sickly grins painted all their masked faces as their wings flapped and descended to the inferno realm.

You, a foreigner of this realm known as Hell, watched while standing at the highest point of the building that the Princess owned and loved with all her heart and soul. Your grip on your staff tightened as the winds howled and your green dragon-like eyes followed the exterminators’ movement through the portal from Heaven to Hell. You raised your staff that has a spinning wheel on top and it glowed an eerie green before the same glow surrounded your form.

It happened like any other day, you were enjoying your time in Twisted Wonderland and strolling with your bodyguards slash family and friends on the forest grounds of Night Raven College when you were suddenly brought to another universe. No one feared you, nor did they shriek at the sight of your horns atop your head. Rather, they dared to show you disrespect. It was foreign but an experience you didn’t shy away. You walked around and came across a cutely drawn poster of a ‘Happy Hotel’ ran by the Princess of Hell.

Well, you needed a place to stay while you figured things out so you sort out this Happy Hotel. To your pleasant surprise, no one inside feared you or actively avoided you out of fear or anything you were familiar with. The dear Princess, Charlie Morningstar as you soon learned, was quick to label you as a ‘patient’ and a newcomer in Hell. The latter was correct as you were new to Hell and this world, but the former, well, you were amused, so you let it slide.

Overtime, you never used your powers in front of them but behind closed doors, you experimented to try to find a way back home. As much as you enjoyed your time with Charlie and the other residence, it wasn’t home so you knew you had to leave, but you’d never rob yourself of the experience of a lifetime to mingle so freely with them. Never have you been able to be so outgoing and lively, you recall yourself always observing and standing on the sidelines. Here, you can be yourself. Perhaps this was the growth your guardians wanted you to have when they enrolled you into Night Raven College.

Still though, you owe a lot of your opened self to the charming demon called Alastor. Like you, he was whispered to be dangerous and a figure to be feared. And feared he was, but unlike you, that never deterred him from being as outgoing and spontaneous as he was to anyone. He, along with Charlie, was someone that gave you a hand in the darkness and guided you out of the mist that you shrouded yourself in. Through his encouragement and stubbornness, he pushed you into the limelight and bathed you in warmth you never enjoyed unless you were with your close ones or subject of interest. Truely, you have a lot to thank the hotel staff.

That was why you planned to do as you will. War between the hotel’s residence and Heaven’s warriors have been sealed and is about to commence, but you who have never used magic, not to mention your unique magic, even once in front of others will now do so. Despite being a feared and isolated individual, you’re not one to wish for bloodshed and pain on others, much less the people/demons you’ve grown soft for. So for their kindness and generosity towards you all this time, you will grant them all a dream where only their greatest desires and wants come true. Until the day ends and the angels will be forced to return as per the agreement of their extermination period.

“Spinning wheel of fate, keep pulling the thread of disaster. As Ruler of the Abyss, I shall bestow this upon you. Fae of Maleficence.” You casted with your staff raised in the air, the wheel on the spinning wheel began to spin to the point it turned into a disc with glowing green aura. You lowered it and waved it in a semi-circle in front of you to let your green aura spread below you.

Green vines creeped down from your spot and thorns began to form the longer it grew, they reached to the battlefield where the two sides clashed. Before the vines reached them, your aura did first, you watched with narrowed eyes as their movements slowed until whatever they were holding was dropped to the ground. Murmurs of confusion and accusations flooded the battlefield. It was in this time that one by one the numbers of beings conscious dropped like flies. To your friends’ enemies, they fell into a bed of vine coated with thorns. To your dearest friends, they laid on a bed of vine with blossomed flowers to soften their fall.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a satisfied smirk, taking a seat and laid your staff on your lap while admiring your work. It has been a while since last you used this spell, granted that this was the first time you’ve done it outside of practices, but the effects were going as you foreseen. “Have sweet dreams. When you wake, this war will be over.”

🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕

“Princess Charlie! Outstanding work! You’ve done it again. I see the divide between Heaven and Hell no longer needed when more and more Sinner have been becoming permanant resident of my fair realm.” God laughed as he patted Charlie on the back.

“Aw, thanks, but I’m just trying to save my people from being killed.” Charlie smiled back as she tried to control her blushing.

“It’s more than that, my beloved daughter.” Lucifer immediately had Charlie’s hands in his as he stared up at her with proud eyes and a warm smile. “Charlie, you’ve done something I never thought was possible.” He hugged her tightly, “I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie hugged tightered as she smiled. “Thanks dad!”

Everyone joined in on the hug with Vaggie being the first to come over and overly, everyone joined. Her friends that were the first to leave her for Heaven all rejoiced with Charlie’s success. Every one of her once demon friend all redeemed Sinner and proud members of Heaven safe from the yearly pain and fear.

Charlie hummed, “I love you guys so much.”

🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕

“Vaggie, please.” Charlie took Vaggie by the hand as she kneeled down on one knee, Vaggie gasped as she waited for her love to continue. Charlie reached into her pocket and took out a red velvet box, holding it so gently in her pale hands she opened it and showed Vaggie a pair of well crafted rings. “Will you make me the happiness demon princess and marry me?”

“Yes! Hell’s yes!” Vaggie smiled with tears streaming down.

Charlie didn’t hesitate to put the ring on Vaggie’s finger before rushing to give each other a bear hug of the century. “Let’s take this inside.”

Vaggie nearly melted with the lowered voice of her love, she only managed to nod while Charlie had already sweeped her off her feet and brought her into the bedroom.

🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕 🎕

Alastor hummed a tune as he enjoyed his deer on a table while the radio played in his room. Ah, this was the afterlife. A nice meal after some clean up and Vaggie didn’t even complain or set the annoying restriction of ‘no killing or devouring’ but he was a good sport when the Princess was at watch, most of the time. Plus! He can’t very well ruin his breakfast, right?

“Alastor!” Charlie called out while Alastor was walking down the halls from an inspection. “Alastor! Thank Hell I found you!”

“Hm? What is it, dear?” Alastor stopped and asked with his head tilted to the side.

“Vox is causing a scene at the front desk again! Can you please do something about it? You’re the only one here that can!” Charlie begged with kitten-like eyes. “My dad is just holed up in his room all the time and wasn’t helping even when I called! I need you, Alastor!!”

Alastor’s smile grew, his clawed hand recahing out to pat Charlie by the head. “Of course, dear. What kind of partner would I be if I refused?” He turned to the direction Charlie came from and began his way to the front desk, Charlie tailing behind him. “Haha, a bad one! Oh ho ho, no sir!”

When the two had arrived, Vox wasn’t exactly causing a scene of a large scale, but he was doing something annoying. There Vox was, standing ever so near you while trying to pathetically charm you. What a laugh, you had higher standards than that. Though that wasn’t the point, the point was how he could practically feel his claws sharpening and his horns growing at the sight.

There was just something that made his blood boil and his dead heart beating so loudly at the sight. How dare that flatscreen demon just waltz into his hotel and cause disturbance? Not to mention try to steal you from under his roof? That just won’t do.

Vox’s screams of argony and pain were music to his ears as he delievered blow after blow while laughting manically. The hotel members cheered and praised Alastor for his work, all while Vox was kicked out of the hotel to whatever place Alastor’s minions threw him at.

This day was just so perfect.

“Alastor, that was so scary and you were like a dark knight.” You came to his side, staring into his red eyes with your magnetic ones. “I’m glad this hotel has you, I’m grateful you’re here for me.”

Like you were something out of a dream.

Dream? Alastor’s eyes blinked as if he had come to his senses. He looked around and saw the smiles and cheers directed at him. Everyone’s attention was on him? Odd. Usually, Husk would be at the bar drinking his consciousness away, Angel would be on some inappropriate site, Niffty would be cleaning, Sir Pentious would be with his Egg Bois, Vaggie and Charlie would be together coming up with something, and you.

You’d be holed up in your room doing who knows what.

“My dearest darling.” Alastor grinned as his hands took yours in his, giving you a twirl. It was weird how you let him in such close proximity without becoming stiff as a board and that soft smile of yours was a rare sight. “Will you be mine?”

You smiled and hummed, “Was there any doubt? Absolutely.”

While Alastor was dancing and twirling with you in his hands, he felt so out of place but at the same time excited. A dream was what this was, and one of the greatest calibur. He was the main character and everything would be to his wishes and design no matter what.

Though, what he realized from this was another desire he has been pushing away.

You.

Note: This is a full story format, as you've all come to realize. The Reader is from Twisted Wonderland, you can check the request info. I changed the part where you were supposed to be human to a fae.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

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#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #Once Upon A Dream #Yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader

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