Lost Realities | (Alastor x Reader)

My Life? A Mess. Hotel? Hazbin

  "So . . . Baxter, huh? Cool name. Mind if I ask you if you know what it means?"

  One again, I get that narrow-eyed, pondering, frowning look that I've come to like, a lot. I don't know why, but it's so entertaining to see Baxter in his thinking mood. I've come to realize over breakfast that he has one. A very prominent one.

  Turns out, Baxter is the name of the guy who threw up all over the carpet at the sight of seeing Alastor. Upon closer inspection, he's definitely something akin to an anglerfish. Though he has a few female trademarks, if I know anything about anglerfish. Baxter's skin is a grey-blue tone and he has fish fins to resemble ears that share the same color. He has three cyan freckles dotted on each side of his face under his eyes. He has short, dark blue hair, looking as though it was swept back by a strong wind, having grey streaks and cyan dots running through it. Pointed cyan teeth are seen whenever he opens his mouth, or smiles, which I thought was rare. Ok, it's more of a crazy, mad scientist-smile. He has cyan sclera, and pink/light red irises, and his eyelids are a dark blue shade like his hair. A pair of large, yellow goggles are strapped to his head, with a pink/light red frame. The anglerfish's clothes consist of a grey laboratory suit with pastel yellow buttons, long black gloves and boots, and a tiny grey hat.

  One of his eyebrows raises as he processes the question through a mouthful of eggs. "Of course I know", he says importantly after swallowing. "It means 'baker'."

"Ooh, that's too bad", I reply, casting him a mischievous grin.

  Baxter falls for the bait. He's such a sucker for information. "Why would it be too bad? You're telling me I should be ashamed of my name? Preposterous! It's not the worst name out there, you know. I've heard worse."

  Snorting a laugh, I lean back, tapping my fingers on the table. "Of course! I was just saying, since your name means 'baker', you coulda helped us make breakfast."

"Why would I?" He returns carelessly, shoveling another forkful of eggs through his sharp, cyan teeth. One eye opens lazily at me. "I like it better this way, and I will fight to keep it this way." Hmm. I'd like to see that. One day . . . I'll get him to help. He'll crawl out of that little shell of selfish superiority. Not everyone likes a mad scientist.

  Charlie, from across the long table scattered with the remains of breakfast, catches my eye and gives me a thumbs up. I can basically hear her saying, 'Nice work socializing, (Y/N)!'

  I return her encouraging smile, looking around the room once more, giving Baxter time to actually enjoy his breakfast. Everyone seems to be finishing up. Vaggie and Charlie were talking with the wolf-demon, who had calmed down a considerable amount. Though she chose the farthest seat from Alastor. I can see Angel Dust's long legs resting on the table, and I assume he's flirting with the other demon who came in. I still haven't met him yet. I'll get introductions later.

  The only person who didn't eat anything yet is Alastor. Which I don't know whether or not to be surprised at it. He's sitting at the far end of the table, closest to Baxter, Charlie and I, just watching with a wide smile.

I was too afraid to stare at him for too long to figure out what that smile means.

  Now, though, I'm unable to catch myself. He meets my (E/C) eyes and one of his eyebrows raise in an unspoken question. Alastor's also been very quiet throughout breakfast. Offering him a quick smile, I force myself to stare at the empty plate in front of me. I think I ate something bad . . . my stomach feels weird.

  Alastor continues to stare at me. I can feel it. Don't take the dishes yet. Don't leave the room. Don't make yourself vulnerable.

"So, Nifty", I murmur, bending over to the short demon in the chair to my left. "How's the knitting going?"