I write primarily Hazbin Alastor fanfics in the form of long novels. Slow burn, angst, and world building are my cup of tea but they’re not for the faint of heart. Can you handle it?
✨ Masterlists ✨
NOVELS
Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader [complete]
The Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader [ongoing]
SHORTS
Alastor’s Attention || Alastor x Reader
On-Air || Alastor x Reader
Code Racer || Alastor x Reader
Traveling Circus AU || Funnybunny Oneshot
It’s Never Too Late || Vox x Reader
RADIO APPLE
Borrowing Time || Lucifer x Alastor
Forgot your antlers || Lucifer x Alastor
DEMI DEMON Community Page
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FUTURE STORY LIST
Idea Board
- a collection of AU ideas either from my mind or from your comments/asks
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A. Absolutely. My lovely @papas-ghoulette does it all the time 🧡
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A. Yes, in fact, please do. It helps me reach more Hazbin and Alastor enthusiasts
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A. You can, but please @ me somewhere so people know the world idea originally came from me. @jgabriel1920 did something similar for my Demi Demon plot
Q. How much of your story is planned? Do you write based on reactions or stick to your plan?
A. Unlike Demi Demon, I do have a plot this time. My major plot points don’t change, but I may add or rewrite certain scenes based on how my readers feel
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A. New chapter every other Wednesday 9:00am EST
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A. Where would I be without them 🧡
Sometimes I wish tumblr was more popular and then I remember I like it because it’s a quiet little corner of the internet that’s not screaming at me, stalking me, or shoving ads down my throat even though tumblr has game ads for some ungodly reason
Alastor came in hot and was able to topple overlords who had ruled for CENTURIES before he arrived. But that annoying picture box is still alive? Looks like someone still has some old feelings because otherwise he wouldn’t let Vox continue living. Romantic or platonic
Can we actually talk about how the complements in the Alastor and Vox backflash are manipulation.
Like I don't think Vox was even thinking about it becuase manipulation is just the water he swims in but it is. He is trying to butter up Alastor for his big pitch.
Agreed! But that might also be because he’s in entertainment and that whole industry requires people to be able to pitch themselves and their ideas in the best possible way.
Alastor knows word manipulation as an overlord and purely as a RADIO host. So I feel like Alastor was probably waiting for Vox to pitch something, which is why he wasn’t really affected by his initial compliments.
Alastor sat at his desk at the usual hour. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair pulled back out of his face. A stack of important papers he’d barely glanced at were to his right and a half-finished coffee mug to his left as he wrote talking points for his next broadcast.
The television droned on behind him in the living room. He did it mostly out of habit and partially to keep an ear on things. Radio only covered so much now that people had shifted almost entirely to television and social media for news.
“—escaped confinement earlier tonight. The princess claims she knows nothing about her father’s escape—“
Alastor looked over his shoulder at the television. He felt his stomach turn at the sight of the prison headshot of Lucifer Morningstar. The old picture captured his essence perfectly: flashing, devilish smile and ruffled hair that never had a bad hair day. He didn’t look even the slightest bit upset that he was in angelic prison. In fact, he looked pleased about it. Pfft, typical.
'Confinement' was the station's way of playing nice in case the devil decided to visit them. But Alastor had an inky black feeling that he knew who the devil would be visiting first.
He gradually turned in his chair, now paying full attention to what the woman was saying. "Police are warning residents to lock their doors and stay indoors. They also strongly encourage residents to stay in close touch with their neighbors, friends, and family until the man has been found and apprehended. If you see any signs of this man, please contact the authorities immediately. Do NOT engage with him."
Alastor realized he was furiously tapping his pen on the desk. And his leg wouldn't sit still, either. His mind went to the doors and windows. He always locked his windows and front door out of habit, but what about the back door? He hardly used it.
His hands had gone clammy. His eyes slowly scanned the room, expecting Lucifer to be waiting in the corner or peaking through the blinds. His little apartment suddenly felt too quiet. His beating heart drowned out the reporter in the background. He needed to do something other than just sit there.
He went to check on the backdoor but a warm hand closed over his mouth. The fingers, deceptively gentle, pulled him back against a firm chest. His whole body went tight as soft lips grazed his ear.
“Easy now,” Lucifer murmured in Alastor's ear. "That picture of me is so unflattering, you know."
Alastor's hands gripped the arm of the chair so tight it made the wood creak. His nose wrinkled at the smell of dirt and sweat. But the unmistakable scent of cinnamon apples that followed Lucifer everywhere still lingered beneath it all.
Alastor's shallow breathing bounced off Lucifer's hand still covering his mouth, the only sign that Alastor's smile now took considerably more effort to maintain. Meanwhile the reporter kept going on about the person standing directly behind him.
"It's been so long," Lucifer said sweetly. He rubbed his nose against Alastor's hair, just behind his ear, and took a deep breath. "I've missed you, bellhop."
Every instinct in Alastor was fighting with itself. His overlord instinct wanted to lash out, to run, to fight, to make bleed. But his minimal self-preservation instinct clawed its way up his throat and screamed at the top of his mind: this is not a fight you can win.
Alastor didn't know what to do. He wanted to see Lucifer for himself but that would make it all too real. This was just a dream, right? A nightmare. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again.
“You look so worried.” Lucifer's lips grazed his fur in the opposite direction, making Alastor's ear flick involuntarily. His chuckle was deep in his chest and it sent vibrations through Alastor's arms. “I think we need to have a little chat about your hospitality skills, Alastor.” Hearing his name from the devil’s lips sent a shiver down his spine. “Will you be good so I can remove my hand?”
Again, Alastor’s instincts battled with each other. He didn’t want to dignify the derogatory question with an answer, but for some ungodly reason he nodded. Lucifer’s fingers peeled away from his lips and Alastor slowly turned around in his chair to face him.
“There he is,” Lucifer purred. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Lucifer was clad in orange pants and a black tank top. His sinfully soft hair was now crowded with dirt and sticks from his escape but, once again, still somehow looked good. He ran his hand through his oily hair to pull it out of his eyes and exposed his toned arms from a few months in prison.
Lucifer leaned forward and pressed Alastor’s forearms into the armrests of his chair, then promptly saddled himself on Alastor’s lap. A radio frequency crackeld in the back of Alastor’s throat as Lucifer hooked a single finger around his antler like he had very right to. Alastor’s shadows, usually so loud and eager, were now refusing his call.
“I don’t believe I invited you,” Alastor managed. The way Lucifer was pulling on his antler made it feel like he was involuntarily bowing his head to him.
“You never do.” Lucifer’s voice was light and playful, yet the underlying tone was loud and clear: don’t fight.
“Now,” Lucifer continued, “I heard the funniest rumor that you’ve been deciding who gets to stay at my daughter’s hotel.”
“I ensure the safety of the hotel from unsavory characters,” Alastor replied without missing a beat.
“And who made you the judge of that?” His grip on Alastor’s antler tightened a fraction.
“Well, your daughter is a rather trusting person,” Alastor said gently and as lightly as he could muster. “A little too trusting. Someone needs to be concerned on her behalf.”
Lucifer shifted higher on Alastor’s lap. “How noble of you, Alastor,” he mockingly praised. “How selfless. Maybe there’s hope for redemption in you after all.”
“Hardly.” Alastor smiled wider, showing his full set of sharp teeth. The smell of months in a prison cell were filling his nose, and his neck hurt from fighting Lucifer’s hold.
Lucifer leaned in until his chest was flush with Alastor’s. The smell vanished from thought as Alastor went almost crosseyed trying to stay focused on Lucifer’s face. His lips instinctively parted.
“The issue I see here—“ Lucifer abruptly leaned away, pulling on Alastor’s antler and nearly wrenching them from his seat. Anger boiled over and it took every fleeting and buried instinct in him to not do something rash. “—is that you’ve gotten awfully comfortable playing gatekeeper at the hotel. Who comes and goes isn’t your call to make. It’s Charlie’s.”
“Forgive me for asking,” Alastor said tightly, “but how might you know anything about the comings and goings of the hotel?” He gripped Lucifer’s wrist and pulled them back up to the position they were previously in. His eyes chased the lines in Lucifer’s shirt.
Lucifer's hand drifted up one of Alastor’s arms and settled on his shoulder. “You really think I haven’t been in contact with my own daughter?” Alastor wanted to say something but Lucifer spoke before he could. “Now, why don’t we start over and try this again. And this time, leave out the part where you pretend this is about Charlie’s sake.”
Finally, Lucifer let go of Alastor’s antler. His hand trailed down the side of his temple, along his jaw, and settled around the base of his throat. The touch, feather-like at first, tightened on the vulnerable spot, and Alastor wished for meager shield of his shirt collar. Anything to put between his skin and Lucifer’s hand.
Lucifer’s calloused yet elegant fingers scratched against the tender flesh of Alastor’s throat. Alastor caught the way Lucifer watched the small muscles work as he swallowed around his hand. Lucifer’s grin gleamed in the mixed light of Alastor’s desk lamp and the bright television.
“Take your time,” Lucifer said kindly, contrasting the grip he had on Alastor’s throat. “I've got all the time in the world to uncover what you’re so afraid of me finding out."
I feel like I need to reread my own fics because the fact that I wrote some of this shit is INSANE. And you people actually read it. So who’s more insane 👀
I feel like the pacing between chapter updates in fanfiction should be studied and compared to the pacing in a published book where you DONT have to wait 4 weeks to know what happens next
The Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 45: a previous
Plot Summary: Alastor finds an Archivist who can translate Old World texts. Equally bound to their duty, you and Alastor traverse the tricky landscape of love and commitment…but to whom and to what?
Synopsis: Lots of moving parts as we gear up for the big moment.
Masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn't eat anything the first few times. The piping hot, juicy meat on a bed of mashed potatoes was the most tempting thing I had ever seen. My mouth watered and I almost accepted the plate, but then something in the back of my mind stopped me.
After who knows how long of stale bread and warm water, now all of a sudden they were giving me cooked meat and ice water? They had to have done something to it. Poisoned it. Drugged it. Did something to it.
Jor insisted it was fine and that I needed the iron in my system after losing so much blood. He was right about the second part, at least. I felt so weak and tired and sick. It felt like the worst severe cold.
I was having so much trouble breathing while lying down. Even propped up on a few pillows my chest felt tight, like I was breathing through fabric. On top of that, I couldn't get comfortable. I was getting hot and cold flashes and only pure exhaustion helped me fall asleep.
Eventually, I gave in. I remained consciously aware of my moods and thoughts in case they laced the food with an agreeable drug of some kind. But to be fair, I wasn't paying attention to anything except the warm bread and tender meat and crisp fruit.
Jor sat on the edge of the bed while I wolfed down my third plate that day. Based on the time of the meals (and thank heavens there was a clock on the wall that I could keep time with), a full day had passed. I wished to be outside and see the night stars.
My wings had healed just enough to hide them away in my back without excruciating pain. I wondered if they healed faster or slower while in their tucked away state, but I wasn't about to test that. I had finally achieved a point of comfort.
Alas, it couldn't stay that way. Memories plagued my mind. In that moment, all I could think about were the dinners Niffty made that Alastor and I ate at the dinner table together. Silent, steady tears fell down my cheeks, but it wasn't commented on.
I cleaned my plate and handed it back to Jor. He patted my leg and put the plate on the counter. I shuffled down the mountain of soft pillows and took a slow, difficult deep breath.
Jor ran his hand over my warm forehead. "I'm proud of you, you know."
I opened an eye at him.
"I am. You've been through a lot and I'm...I'm sorry for yelling at you."
I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, too."
I voted not to say anything about his deal with the White Angels. All I wanted was to sleep. So I closed my eyes and let him fix the blanket even though I knew I would get uncomfortably hot in the next few seconds.
{ | }
"I guess you're eager for round two, Mr. Radio Demon." Adam sauntered into the cold prison cell. His cheeks hurt from smiling as he stared down his nose at the hybrid.
Alastor held his composure and leaned back against the wall, smiling, just not as much as Adam. The chain around his neck dug into his skin and the ones around his wrists and ankles were obnoxiously heavy. He had a feeling they hit his head pretty hard because his magic wasn't responding. That and because the single overhead lightbulb was too bright.
He fought to keep his concern hidden. "I thought you might want a fair fight this time. Without your little gadgets, of course."
"Nah, I've got bigger plans for you. Your pretty little Archivist has been calling for you. Well, screaming really."
Alastor's smile turned into an ugly snarl. "I think you'll find her spirit hard to break."
"Oh yeah, totally. She's a tough little cookie." Adam scratched his chin then tapped the top of his head. "But her mind? Ohh hohoooo, that's the fun part."
Alastor glared up at him, still sporting a tight smile. "You think she'll give up translations for me."
"I think youuu don't know~"
Smiling had become a real challenge for Alastor. He crossed his heavy ankles and folded his hands in his lap, ever the composed gentleman. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
"We will," Adam agreed. He stepped closer still and reached behind his back for a black rod tucked in the belt of his costume. Alastor eyed the weapon. His throat tightened with apprehension as Adam finally closed the distance and knocked into Alastor's feet.
"But we've got some preliminary work to do first."
{ | }
Vaggie casually walked down the main path. A few glares came her way but, for the most part, everyone ignored her. Her status had been reinstated but it was clear not everyone agreed she deserved it. Based on Adam's reaction when she returned with Charlie and the Archivist in tow, she guessed he had been hoping she would be killed. Otherwise he wouldn't have sent another spy in.
Jor.
The man was confusing. He was quiet and mumbling nonsense one minute, then throwing curses and making threats the next. His personality shifts were like whiplash at times, and Vaggie couldn't get an accurate read on his level of danger. Which in itself made him dangerous. It made her glad she wasn't the one related to him by blood.
She stepped behind one of the sleeping tent domes. The plastic fabric flapped in the wind against the metal framing. The figures inside chatted away, oblivious to her. She moved to the next tent. This one was darker, so she waited.
The next scout patrol gathered near the main fire as they prepared their gear. Vaggie waited impatiently for them to step away from the dinner crowd.
They primed their metal wings then leapt into the air. She waited all of five seconds before jumping up, too. The hiss of their propelled wings and the wind covered the sound of her following.
When the group reached a certain height, they leveled out and glided down at an angle so not to use up fuel. They were high enough in the air and had glided far enough away that they didn't hear Vaggie shooting upwards past them.
She went higher and higher until she started to shake from the cold but could still see the scout group below her. She leveled out and glided in the direction the group was going.
The person sitting at the radar desk would see her break off from the group when they turned to go back home and she wasn't. She would need to turn off her radar when that happened and glide aimlessly without her compass or without radio. Not that radioing into Pentagram would do much for her, anyways.
This is stupid, she thought. This is SO stupid.
She knew what she was about to do could be the turning tide in this war. And she didn't know if she was going to be on the winning or losing side. But she did know who was on the bad side.
She just hoped Charlie might hear her out despite...everything.
{ | }
I finished my morning plate of bread and cheese then handed the plate back to Jor. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and asked, "How many days has it been?" My moods had improved but I still remained fully capable of disagreeing with Jor, which meant the food hadn't been drugged. My health had been steadily improving over the past three days.
"Since when?"
"Since I came here."
Jor thought at the counter. "About...two weeks?"
It felt like longer. A lot longer. How long had I been in that dark room? How long had I been put through their torturing? I didn't really want to know.
Jor came to sit on the edge of the bed like always. I didn't want to admit it, but it felt good to be around him again. He rarely left the room unless he went to get food. We didn't really talk—well, I didn't talk because I felt sick and he talked about himself.
Since he left home, he'd been traveling between communities. He'd been spreading news about the recent White Angel whereabouts and some knowledge from textbooks he remembered. He was like a traveling poster, like the ones I used to put up in my old community with our mother.
Jor held my gaze for a few heartbeats, giving the air between us a serious tone. "You know they're going to ask soon."
I rolled over to face the wall.
"You can translate a single line, can't you?"
"That's the point, Jor. They want a single line so they can crack the Archivist code. It's the only thing we have left! They can read all of our texts except the ones in Archivist code. I can't give that up."
"You can't be serious. You're just going to let them torture you more over a single line?"
I glared over my shoulder, grateful that I could still feel angry at him. "That's not what you said when you learned about Alastor and I."
His gentle expression hardened. "That's different."
"Hardly." I turned back to the wall. "You already gave up information. Which I still don't even know what you gave them. My usefulness is coming to an end and they're not going to let me just wander back to Pentagram."
"Which is why you need to keep your usefulness," he pressed. "Give them a single sentence. They can't do much with only half the information."
"Sure they can." I shifted on my back to look at him fully. "And let's not forget whose fault it is that I'm even here in the first place. If you hadn't gotten twisted up with the White Angels, you never would've been a spy for them." I pulled the blanket to my chin and turned to the wall. My heartbeat drummed in my ears as tears blurred my vision.
"And we never would've reunited."
The weight of the meaning hung in the air. I was so tempted to bite back with, "Maybe that's for the best" but it felt too cruel to say in that moment. I didn't want to fight with Jor. I never did. I just wanted things to be okay again.
This conversation would likely be my last peaceful one. And the thought of everything coming to an end...was scary.
I'm going to die soon.
{ | }
Thunder from my heartbeat echoed in my ears as I stared down at the book. My legs wouldn't stop shaking and my palms were sweating profusely under the table. I gripped my pant leg tighter. I still wore their basic cream medical patient pants and shirt. The cold air didn't help my trembling.
"Cat got your tongue, Archivist?" Adam taunted in a Common Tongue from across the table. His yellow mask smiled down at me. Jor stood behind my chair, hands on my shoulders.
I took a slow, deep breath. "I won't translate this."
Adam lifted a single eyebrow, seemingly unbothered or like he was amused at my refusal. He said, "You really like to choose the path of most resistance, don't you?"
I didn't say anything, just waited on the cold chair and felt my rapid heartbeat sync up with Jor's through his hands. It was disconcerting to have him touching me. I couldn't tell if he was trying to be supportive, if he was scared about what was going to happen to me, or if he thought I might try to run.
"You Archivists sure are something, aren't you?" Adam looked between me and Jor. "So determined to make everything complicated. Over what? Some dusty old books?"
I wanted to say, "If they weren't important, you wouldn't be asking for them." But I refrained from speaking my mind.
"Sir." Adam's second-in-command, who had been standing in the corner of the room, stepped forward. "It's almost time." She held out a digital clock for him.
He sighed and glanced in our direction. "I was really hoping we might have nothing but good things happening today. But it looks like we can only have one good thing."
He moved around the table towards us. I physically recoiled from him and Jor's hands tightened around my shoulders. He took a half step forward, almost like he wanted to interfere, but had second thoughts and didn't want to make it obvious.
"Come on, Ancient Tits. You get to sit next to me for the show." Adam completely ignored Jor and pulled me up by my arm. I winced from his painful grip and looked over my shoulder at Jor, who seemed just as confused as I felt. Adam looked at him and said, "I have a feeling you're gonna love this show ten times better than I will."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s Note:
I'm so sorry for the short chapter, but the next one is gonna be HEFTY. The big moment is happening next! I'm in the middle of a big life transition and some not-so-great news, so I can't promise a new chapter soon but I CAN promise it will be published on a Wednesday at 9am EST.
But those in my Demi Demon community page have a very very very short snippet of another random AU idea I had. Anyone is welcome to join, but don’t expect a lot from this page.
21 members, 115 posts about #demi demon #Archivists oath #alastor x reader • Exclusive to my readers. Unused scenes, rewrites, excerpts, & t
Fanfic authors know the pain of getting to THE scene that inspired the whole fic…then having to finish the rest of the story. Like why did my motivation sprout legs and walk away?
I love when someone comments on every single chapter in the span of half a day. I wait for them to finish and then grab popcorn and watch them go through the 5 stages of grief
My favorite part about having fanfics that are several years old is that I’ll get a comment about a certain scene or line, and I don’t remember even writing it
People who refuse to read incomplete works until they’re fully complete are missing the utter incomprehensible joy at seeing a new chapter being published
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