Tumgik
#fanfic representation
theonlymadmanonmars · 2 months
Text
Hi hello hi. As an AroAce individual in a QPR who has no desire for a romantic or sexual relationship, I think shipping Alastor in QPRs is so so fun and people should do it more. I also think it works for a good amount if not all of the ships I've seen him in.
Alastor and Rosie: Hell yeah. They're already great friends and every interaction we've seen between them has been pure and adorable. Rosie Gently guiding Alastor through his identity because he isn't exactly up with the slang. Them going out for tea and human flesh Sunday afternoons. Them giving each other forehead kisses and holding hands platonically.
Alastor and Angle dust: Mhmm. Angle not really wanting Sex or romance after all he's been through. Angle respecting Alastor's identity and not pushing for anything more than friendship. Alastor not really liking Angle at first because of their differences, But tolerating him regardles. Alastor explaining to Angle that Romantic relationships don't have to involve Sex (I'm an Asexual Angle truther.) Angle offering Alastor a hug that Alastor reluctantly accepts. Them cuddling at night with a pinky Promise of nothing more.
Alastor and Vox: Go ahead. A fic about Alastor trying to Navigate exactly how he feels about Vox, Because when he died the term AroAce didn't exist, so he thinks it's romantic attraction, Maybe they kiss and Alastor is like "Ha! No!" Maybe that's why they had their falling out? Who knows.
Alastor and Lucifer: So So SO much Yes. (This is my personal favorite) The two of them hating each other, but putting up for each other for Charlie's sake. Slowly growing to actually tolerate and maybe even like being around the other. Exchanging snarky remarks in a more playful way. Alastor finding Lucifer sitting in a pile of ducks and despair and offering his hand to help him up and take him to the hotel. Never letting go of his hand. Fuck Enemies to Friends to Lovers I want an Enemies to Friends to Qpr arc goddamnit.
I do think it's okay to ship Alastor even outside of QPR's, BUT. If you do, don't just ignore Alastor's identity. AroAce people get far less representation than the rest of the LGBTQ+ community. I can think of one other canon Character off the top of my head. So it's not okay to erase the little rep we do get. In the end I think it's important to listen to what AroAce people have to say on the matter, it is our representation after all.
2K notes · View notes
opalesquegirl · 1 month
Text
His Girl
Pairing: shy!remus lupin x shy!fem!reader
summary: An oblivious boy that you've been trying to get away from for a week corners you at a party. Luckily, Remus is there to help.
warnings: fake dating, sexual harassment (catcalling, attempted forced kiss), implied attempted SA (nothing too graphic, remus steps in before the creep gets too close), no use of (y/n), alcohol consumption, language, mutual pining, secondhand embarrassment, cheesiness, fluffy ending because shy remus deserves the world (w/c: 2.4k)
“Pretty girl, come back and talk t’me! I’m getting lonely over here all by myself,” Jason Hartley slurred, stretching out a clammy hand in your direction. You were thankful that his movements were uncoordinated, because it was difficult enough to navigate through the throng of students packed together like sardines.
In the low lighting of the Gryffindor common room, you couldn't make out any familiar faces, so you set your sight on disappearing behind the nearest group of people.
The problem arose last week in potions class. Your desk partner was a kind Hufflepuff girl, but usually abandoned you to spend time with her closer friends. Jason – the boy who sat behind you – volunteered to be your partner for such occasions, and honestly, you didn’t mind at first. He wasn’t a great student, but managed to at least brew the potions correctly where many of your classmates failed.
However, Jason was unwaveringly obnoxious, and earned a daily scolding from Professor Slughorn for talking over the entirety of his instructions. 
While brewing a particularly petulant draught of peace, Jason sighed loudly, causing you to turn and face him. When you asked him what was wrong, he whined and explained how his girlfriend had cheated on him with one of his friends.
It was clearly causing him a lot of grief, and you reasoned that for the decent help he provided you with, he deserved something to cheer him up. You kindheartedly offered to treat him to a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, to which he agreed with a smug smile.
You first realised your mistake when he met you at the front gate of the school, gleefully exclaiming how excited he was for your “date.”
You rushed to correct him, but he kept blathering on about the masculinity of Quidditch (he didn’t make the team), his aptitude in transfiguration (he was publicly lectured by professor McGonnagall only days prior), and how women shouldn’t apply for positions in the Ministry (he couldn’t name any of the departments if he tried).
By the time he finished, hours had passed and your voice was scratchy from disuse. You smiled politely as internal rage dug daggers into your palms under the table. It wasn’t even worth arguing with him about. 
After you fished out your wallet and paid for the both of you, he leaned in to grab your waist and kiss you full-on, but you sidestepped away from him just in time.
As always, he was completely oblivious to any sort of rejection whatsoever. You saved yourself from walking back to the school with him when you told him that you needed to pick up some “sensitive” items in the apothecary.
You left him no room to argue before heaving the door open and booking it to the Honeydukes cellar passageway as fast as you could.
He’d been trying to track you down in the days since, and you’d successfully avoided him every time. Until now. 
“Baby, please! Need you to sit on my lap, kiss me hard,” he groaned, tossing his half-consumed cup of liquor across the crowded room. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice. You gagged. Your chest was heaving – releasing short breaths that made it feel like you were drowning.
You were running out of space to escape from him, and everyone else was too drunk to interfere. In a moment of weakness, you wedged yourself between two cabinets and shut your eyes, praying that whatever he tried would be over soon.
When a voice rang out through the muffled hum of the crowd, it was sweeter than you’d expected. 
“I’m so sorry I’m late, darling. I picked up your favourite chocolate and some peonies that I thought you might like.” Your shoulders dropped. You blinked open your eyes, and found that your view of the party was blocked by the cutest boy you’d ever seen.
Golden brown hair draped over his hazel-coloured eyes, and a silver scar crossed over his nose and through his eyebrow. His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he was nervously awaiting your response. His gaze was soft, and pleaded for you to take the pink flowers extended in his hands. “Play along,” he mouthed. Your fingers curled around his larger hand, and your arm settled around his back. 
“Baby, you don’t need to apologise.” You stood on your toes and cupped his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Remus swallowed thickly and prayed that his face didn’t look as red as it felt. His hands were on fire as you embraced them delicately. “I’m so lucky that you thought of me, my love.”
You side-eyed Jason, who scoffed, and muttered words of defeat under his breath as he scurried off to bother some other poor soul. 
Remus took note of the way your body decompressed, and how you continued to squeeze his hand. He’d like to think that it was your method of comforting yourself without even realising it. “Would you like to get some fresh air?” He suggested, meeting your shy gaze once again.
You nodded contentedly and intertwined your arms, letting him lead you through the portrait hole and away from the flashing lights and bass-boosted music. 
As the adrenaline of escaping from Jason faded, your nervous system reminded you of who you were clinging to like a lifeline. Of course you knew of Remus – everyone did. He was one of the most handsome boys in your year, albeit shy and soft-spoken, and you’d been madly crushing on him (distantly) since you were both twelve.
Of course, this was when the Marauders were first establishing themselves as a force to be reckoned with – universally acknowledged and adored by admirers, loathed by foes, and a torment to most professors. 
However, Remus seemed to be immune to controversy. He engaged in his fair share of misbehaviour, but he was less impulsive than his best mates, and preferred to spend his time in the library, burrowing within fictional worlds and treasure troves of academic knowledge.
On many occasions, you spotted him deep in concentration, eyes squinted and hands deftly tracing scenes of the Black Lake onto a sketchbook. 
You almost worked up the courage to speak to him once, but resigned yourself when you learned that you were not unique in your position. You chose to admire him from a distance after overhearing routine whispers of girls (and guys) fawning over him in almost every corridor of the castle.
He, however, was completely unaware of the group of admirers that giggled and twirled their hair at the mere sight of him.
He didn’t seem to ever notice you, though, which hurt way more than it should. Recently, you’d attempted to move on – yet here you were, making a fool out of yourself and melting into his side. 
Thanks to Remus’ prefect privileges, you were able to bypass the security of the castle and head straight for the serenity of the lake. As you both nestled yourself in the surrounding grass, his hold on your hand loosened. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern apparent in his tone. His furrowed brow and the flecks of gold in his eyes tinted your cheeks pink. You were thankful that it was dark outside. 
“I’m lucky that you were there to rescue me, s’all.” You nearly whispered. “He hasn’t left me alone all week.” 
“I know.” Remus muttered, shaking his head and staring at his legs. His eyes widened. “I mean- he’s a total prick. Always acting as if girls owe him something. It’s impossible not to notice him. I’m sorry I didn’t do something earlier- in potions class, I mean.” He cursed himself for being so awkward. 
Meanwhile, you felt electricity warm your stomach. Remus had really noticed you before? Sure, he was known for being exceptionally kind, but your paths hadn’t ever crossed in a noteworthy way, at least to you.
He continued. “I’m sorry if it was awkward– what I did. I don’t think anything else would have worked on him, at this point.” His voice trailed off, growing softer at the end. 
“Are you kidding? Remus, that was brilliant!” You slapped a hand over your mouth. The volume in your voice startled a crow at the edge of the lake, who began to caw wildly.
You continued, more gently this time. “I mean, you’re brilliant. Of course you are, with all of the studying you do. In the library, like every day.” Remus’ grin widened as you got increasingly flustered. “I meant to say – God, I’m bad at this. What I mean to say is thank you. I know that everyone always talks about how nice you are, but now I get it.”
“What, you didn’t believe them before?” Remus teased. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he cut you off. “I’m only joking. You’re welcome, you’re always welcome. It was nothing. I’d break his nose, if I had the chance. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind laxatives in his breakfast, and a week-long vacation to the infirmary after duelling practice.”
“Remus!” You chided, shoving his shoulder lightly. He caught your hand on his chest, and rubbed his thumb against your knuckles lightly.
“Only joking,” He smiled widely, feeling his heart pound so hard against his ribcage he thought he might die. He wondered if you felt it from where you were sitting, only a foot away from him.
He lowered your hand, and used your distracted state as a chance to admire your carefree expression. Your lips were stretched wide in laughter, and your breath was melodic in the silence of midnight. Your features were relaxed, and he couldn’t remember the last time he saw you this way.
For years he'd taken to admiring you from afar, too afraid of stumbling over his words and becoming a bumbling idiot without a brain. He shamefully recalled the time that he gave a presentation in front of his history of magic class and froze under your tender gaze.
He groaned into his pillow the entire night as James and Sirius skipped in circles around his bed, cackling and spluttering and imitating him forgetting how to speak for ten minutes.
Still, whenever he saw you, it was like seeing you for the first time. He was a total mess, and you probably saw right through him. Your voice cut through his usual self-depracating inner monologue. 
“Remus, why did you have chocolates and flowers with you anyway?” You murmured, feeling your heartbeat pick up in your chest. You hated yourself for asking this question because you already knew the answer. Your palms began to sweat. In the moment of suspense, you would have done anything to cling to blind hope for a little while longer. Maybe he liked you back. Deep down, you knew that it couldn't be true.
You were making him nervous, and Remus always seemed to exude confidence. He probably wanted to give those gifts to a lucky guy or girl who wasn’t you, and whose date you must have crashed with your personal issues. 
“Oh,” he swallowed. “Well actually, Pads–er, Sirius, asked me to pick these up for a guy on our floor that he’s been trying to impress lately.” He exhaled a puff of air through his nose. “Reckon he couldn’t be bothered to get them himself. These’re yours now.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes, heart stopping when you giggled and lowered your head to smell the peonies. 
You felt warmth swell in your chest. In the silence, a moment of confidence struck you. “Why haven’t we talked like this before?” 
Remus’ throat felt dry. His mind was racing as he tried to think of what to say – something that was destined to only scratch the surface of what he wished he could tell you. “When we’re in the library at the same time and you're not looking, I see you huddled over your books, and I think I start having heart palpitations or something, and I – fuck, you’re so pretty.” Your jaw dropped. He realised. “Shit, did I say that out loud?”
“Remus-”
“Well, I’ve already started, might as well just say it all,” he muttered under his breath. He hoped you wouldn’t hate him after this. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I’m an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing. When I see you in the corridor, or in the common room, I think I lose myself, and I end up trying to act like someone else, like a less-insecure version of myself, and fuck, you’re gorgeous and I’m just– I’m-” 
“Remus.” You placed your hand on top of his. He exhaled, hoping to God that he doesn’t start crying when you reject him. “Remus, I – um, I like you. A lot.” His heart stopped. He thought he blacked out for a minute, maybe two. Eventually, you noticed his vacant expression, and his eyes that were unblinking.
 “Remus, are you okay? Earth to Remus?” Suddenly, he was brought back to life. He felt like somebody told him that he qualified for the Olympics, or he received outstandings in all of his N.E.W.T.s. Maybe his dreams of meeting David Bowie had come true, or even better. Definitely better.
In a moment of impulsivity, he leaned forward until his face was in front of your own. You could feel his shaky exhale on your skin, waiting for you to make the next move. You leaned toward him and gently pressed your lips against his, running your hands through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He hummed into your mouth and stroked your cheek with his thumb.
Slowly, he pulled away for breath. “Sweet girl, can I take you out to get a proper butterbeer? Without sexist jokes, or wandering hands? Or– I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” You beamed at him, and Remus’ heart thudded in his chest hard.
“I don’t mind the wandering hands part, actually.”
He erupted into surprised laughter – short, breathless gasps that escaped his heaving chest. “Oi, you were so shy a moment ago! Where has my nervous girl gone?” He didn’t attempt to hide the warmth that seeped into his features and illuminated him in a hue of pink, scarcely visible in the webs of shadowy moonlight that slithered through the clouds. 
“Your girl, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t mean – unless you also wanted to be, for me to ask you properly, because I want you to-” 
“I think I could get used to that. Only if I’d get to call you ‘my boy,’ though."
Remus' smile was contagious. He felt a blooming love break free from beneath the patchwork of scars adorning his chest and the steely barriers within. He unravelled all of his defences. He was sure of it. You would be his girl, his everything, always.
The next morning, he made sure to arrange an extra special meeting between Jason, who was covered in painful head-to-toe boils, and the head of school. So help him, Jason would never see any part of you or the castle again.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope that you enjoyed! As this is my first work on this blog, likes and reblogs are very much apprecated!! Please do not copy or translate any of my work without permission.
1K notes · View notes
yourdoorisunlocked · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
What A Dish, What A Doll! - Part 1
~ 𝑨𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~
🎙️【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑽𝑰 】🎙️
𝐀/𝐍: This was originally supposed to be pretty dark, but my mind clearly had other plans since I ended up writing a fluffy little fic about our favorite radio man lmao. I’ll probably write up the angstier fic, too, if this one does well.
Also, the Reader is AFAB, since that’s what I’m comfortable writing for as a girl myself.
. . .
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟏𝟏𝟓 𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝑷𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝑶𝒏 𝑴𝒚 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝑷𝒂𝒖𝒍 𝑨𝒏𝒌𝒂
Tumblr media
𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑨𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒐𝒃 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
. . . 
The door to Alastor’s manor creaked open for you, and with a grin you took the spare key he gave you from the lock and swung the door fully open to push yourself inside in an attempt to escape from the late winter chill. 
It was a late January night, meaning the serene moonlight washed over the snowy landscape as early as 5:00 P.M., making it dangerous for a lady like yourself to be wandering the streets of New Orleans late at night. 
But it had been months since you really had to worry about anything like that, since you had Alastor by your side to look out for you. Such a sweetheart to you, and a bit of a mama’s boy, too, judging by the pictures set atop the mantle just above the unlit fireplace.
The mere thought of your ever-enthusiastic smiling companion made you especially giddy as you kicked off your winter boots and shrugged your coat off your shoulders, placing it upon the antler-adorned coat rack and skipping past the staircase into the living room. 
Flopping on the couch, you reached over for the radio while cuddling up with a blanket, excited to hear the well-awaited voice of the man who had altered the direction of your life – undoubtedly for the better – and you were practically kicking your feet like a flustered schoolgirl who had received your first confession as Alastor’s voice rang through the small device, loud and clear for you to hear. 
“Good evening, New Orleans!” You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiastic announcer’s voice that he normally used for his radio show, and the first time the two of you had met.
Though, Alastor was more relaxed around you nowadays, seeing no need to keep up the too-cheery facade his listeners had renowned and adored him for. You cherished moments when he was simply relaxed, content with a close-lipped smile and sitting beside you, whether it be reading, playing the piano with you, occasionally even pulling you into a spontaneous dance.
As you listened practically through the entire thing, you began to silently fantasize about your unpredictable yet darling radio host.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have tonight, folks! I should be going, now. It's rather bad form to keep my doll waiting at home for me~,” He finished with a soft chuckle.
Blood rushed to your cheeks at that last little comment, practically cursing Alastor for his cheekiness, and he knew that you listened to his shows whenever you could.
"The au-diddly-dacity of that man..."
“Thank you for tuning in! See you next time~...” 
The radio returned to static for a few seconds, before a jaunty little tune began to play through the speakers, and it just so happened to be one of your personal favorites, one that you, no matter what mood, nor what you were doing, couldn't help but jump up and dance to.
And, of course, Alastor knew you loved it.
You sighed with content as you relaxed into his couch cushions, sinking into the blanket that Alastor had laid out for you since he'd found you constantly falling asleep to his voice on the radio when he returned home from work.
A pang of guilt thundered against your chest as your heart strained at the stinging reminder of how much of a burden you really were to Alastor. He was a good man, who helped you out when you were in a tough spot, you should at least repay the favor, right?
I should at least do something nice for him... He's been so good to me, even inviting me over for dinner more times than I can count.
He was the one who offered me that job at the radio station, hell, he even let me off early so I could listen to his show!
With a huff, and a newfound sense of energy, you got to work around the house, tidying up and lighting the fireplace, sparking a candle or two, and keeping the radio playing all throughout the thirty minutes you had spent cleaning, imagining the look on Alastor’s face when he returned.
You had even started on dinner, making a nice pot of venison soup, since it seemed to be his favorite. 
You pushed down the swell in your chest when you heard the doorbell ring, excitedly rushing over to a mirror and sweeping across your face and hair, making sure everything about you was in perfect shape. 
You opened the door, craning your neck a good amount to make eye contact with dark chocolate eyes staring down at you intently, almost illuminated in the moonlight, set against smooth caramel skin beneath a fluff of mocha brown hair.
“Hel-!” 
Alastor’s usual smile was smacked clean off his face at the sight of you standing before him, apron tied across your skirt with a few stains upon it, hair slightly amess but clearly put together.
"-Lo... My dear, what is the meaning of this?..." His tone seemed cheerful enough, if a bit bewildered as his eyes scanned your form once more, stopping upon the apron once again before returning his gaze to yours.
You looked so painfully, so heart throbbingly domestic that it nearly gave him a heart attack when he first opened the door. Such a submissive nature fed into other... primal desires of his that he wasn't fully prepared to delve into.
You smiled sheepishly up at him. "Why don't you come in? I've already started dinner," Alastor's trademark smile quirked his lips upward as he suddenly took your arm and headed inside, practically glowing as he headed straight for the kitchen.
"Oh, no, mister, you stay right there," you winked down at the radio host as you pulled him into a chair. "You've been working so late, let me handle dinner."
You truly piqued Alastor's interest when a familiar scent wafted past his nose, and he eyed you with surprise as you worked in the kitchen, pouring a hot, thick broth from the pot into a small bowl.
As you headed towards him, he tried his best not to absolutely melt in his seat as you served him with a smile, and he carefully took the steaming bowl from your hands. 
Venison, hm? Well don’t mind if I- 
AN: You know that one scene in Ratatouille where that critic takes a bite of his dish, and gets a flashback to when his mom used to cook for him? Imagine that but with Alastor. 
“Is it good?” Your soft, almost worried voice brought him back to reality, and as he met your hopeful, imploring gaze, Alastor nearly choked on his food as heat crept up to his cheeks, burning against his face and ears.
For just a moment, I thought I saw...
With wide eyes, you rushed over to him with a napkin, patting his back and looking over him with concern as his coughing ceased, and he took the cloth with a grateful, slightly wobbly smile. 
  “Was it really that bad...?” Your confidence wavered slightly as you stared down at Alastor, realizing the sudden proximity as electricity raced up your spine and lit your cheeks aflame.
Half-lidded cocoa-brown eyes searched the very depths of your soul, before he shook his head and murmured, "No, quite the opposite. I'm... I'm actually quite thankful for this, tonight." Though, it couldn't have come at a worse possible time, when he was finally squashing any sort of emotions he felt for you into the dirt, only for you to make them froth and rise to the surface yet again.
Why, he hadn't realized how long it had been since anyone had done anything like this for him!
Ah, his dear mama...
He recalled the last dish she ever made for him. Her house-famous Jambalaya that he had adored so much. It even managed to put his father in a good mood.
"A-Al? Alastor? Are you alright...?"
He hadn't even noticed that tears were streaming down his slim cheeks until he felt small droplets falling upon his lap.
"Oh, nothing. This... This all just reminded me of someone..." He shook his head and took his circle-rimmed glasses off his pointed nose, rubbing the fogginess off the glass as the gears turned in your head.
You raised an eyebrow. "Who...?" You then caught a glimpse of the photos set above fireplace just past the couch that faced away from the kitchen. Of course!
Immediate regret washed over you as you fretted over Alastor, apologizing meekly as you attempted to clean up the soup in front of him, but you were stopped as he gripped your wrist.
"I'm so sorry! I never meant to be such a burden, I just really wanted to do something nice for you, s-since you're always-"
"No, please, this has been a delightful surprise, darling." You froze at the pet name, heat creeping over your cheeks and tinging your ears a bright pink as Alastor released his grip upon your hand.
"You have never, never felt like a burden to me. I promise you that," he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand in an act of comfort, but it only served to make your face glow even redder.
"Now I'd like to finish the dinner you made for me. If you don't mind, of course," his usual cheekiness had returned when he spotted your slightly flustered face, and you nodded and returned to your seat promptly.
Alastor, being ever the chatterbox, resurrected the flowing conversation between you two for a good hour, as he recalled stories from his childhood, keeping you entertained throughout your dinner. Your laughter filled the hallway, your smile both wounding and freeing his heart, while you sat, mesmerized at his captivating storytelling and how he spoke with his hands, practically alight as he drank in each expression you gave him.
"Would you care for a dance, darling?" Alastor spoke up suddenly, the contents of his bowl completely gone as you eyed it. You shyly agreed as he smiled gently and pulled you into the living room.
Soft caramel brown hands wrapped around yours as Alastor's slender fingers held you close in a surprisingly tight grip against him, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, along with his rapidly beating heart despite his suave demeanor as he slowly danced along with you to one of the songs that had begun playing on the radio beside the fireplace.
Nothing but your dear friend's soft humming along with the sounds of the radio filled the silence between you in the moment, and you began to relax in his grip as you lazily kept up with his slow steps.
Put your head on my shoulder~
A slow dance between you two, with an occasional twirl as Alastor nearly swept you off your feet swept the minutes away, until the moon was well past the horizon and twilight fell upon the sky.
As he spun you around once more, a sudden gust of air swept past the pair of you, nearly blowing out the candle beside you.
Hold me in your arms, baby...
Alastor's eyes widened at the sight of a petite, elderly woman standing beside the doorway into the kitchen, watching the two of you intently, until her form faded from the door with a shimmer of light and a gentle smile.
Squeeze me oh-so tight, show me...
He gulped softly at the sight of the angel while you stared into his eyes, completely fixated upon his surprised open-mouthed stare as his gaze flickered from behind you to your lips.
You barely missed his darkening expression as you both began to sway slowly once again.
Show me, that you love me, too~...
"Would you like to stay the night, darling?" For the first time in his life, Alastor seemed unsure, maybe even nervous, as his dark brows creased together and his charming smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You smiled and reached up to smooth out the crease with your fingers.
You had no idea how he warred with himself, knowing that he'd be practically signing his soul away simply to be in your company.
Put your lips next to mine, dear~...
But... Perhaps this would be worth it.
Perhaps moments like these, when time slowed, where you both could block out the rest of the world and simply bask in each other's company would be worth the risk.
Won't you kiss me once, baby~?
Alastor had decided, right then and there as you stared up at him with nothing but adoration.
He'd have you. He had to. He was damned either way, but he'd storm the pearly gates themselves if he failed to drag you down with him.
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe...?
But, with immense relief, Alastor realized wouldn't take much persuasion as your eyes seemed to twinkle beside the flickering candlelight, and a gentle yet teasing smile played at your lips.
You and I will fall in love...
"Yes, I'd like that very much, Alastor."
. . . 
Tumblr media
𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Okay, I KNOW that 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' was released in the 50s, BUT LET'S PRETEND IT WAS THE 20s, OKAY???
Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this first post, I might write a part two if the people want one. Maybe Alastor headcanons?? Who knows...
Let's just see how far this goes lmao.
. . .
➺ 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚 @cafekitsune - 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!
Tumblr media
618 notes · View notes
mrsfrecklesmarauders · 9 months
Text
No, love. Not every single character has to have a romantic partner to be interesting. It is okay for characters to end up alone. Or not have romantic experiences at all. No matter their sexuality. Aromantic and Asexual characters can exist and be a good representation of the queer community. Not only gay couples represent queer struggle.
That's all. Thanks.
3K notes · View notes
stories-and-chaos · 2 months
Text
Shrike pt 1
Tumblr media
[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]
[Part 1/2 Word count 5506/12026]
[cw: blood, violence, mild gore, attempted sexual assault, fluff]
Behind every great man is a great woman? Well, behind every sophisticated murderer is an equally charming murderess. Maybe not as accurate a statement but that’s how you and your partner were. You met Alastor during prohibition. You weren’t the headline performer at the speakeasy he liked to frequent. You were attractive but other girls there were more stunning.
What caught his attention was the passion in your voice. You were deep and sultry as New Orlean’s summer nights. Your notes slipped into his core as inevitable as the Big Easy’s flow. Combined with your poise and aura of untouchability, he felt drawn to you. The lean radio host had never felt a pull like this to anyone.
But he noticed other men drawn to you. But they had no appreciation for you, just your flesh and the pleasure they might take from you. So he took to following you home. At a discreet distance; he hadn’t yet introduced himself. At least a dozen times he intercepted ruffians that moved to harm you. They weren’t nearly as cautious and thorough as him.
One night Alastor had just prevented another uncouth man from approaching you and was wiping off his hands when he heard your voice. Not how he normally did, trained and melodic. No this was harsh, panicked. Fuck! Another one?! There really was no end to the lowlifes.
You had screeched at your assailant, “Get your hands OFF ME!” You were shrill enough to make him wince, but only for a second. He was stronger and just gave you a dark grin with more teeth missing than not. “Let’s have some fun babycakes.” He started dragging you to an alley.
You managed to stomp on his foot with your heel. “Augh, you bitch!” He shoved you up against the brick wall. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.
“I believe the lady has made her opinion clear,” came another voice in the foggy night. “Let her go.” The voice was vaguely familiar, something you heard regularly…
It distracted your assailant long enough that you could reach for your hat. It was a tad out of style but had it’s advantages. Namely, needing a nearly foot long hat pin to keep it in place. You pulled the pin out while he looked out at the other man.
“Fuck off before I kill yo-“ his words were cut off by the sharpened steel pin suddenly piercing his eye. You jammed it into his eye socket with all your strength. Maybe you could have hit what little brains he had but the other man ran up to slit the bastard’s throat.
The man gurgled desperately before falling to the ground. He twitched, blood flowing from his neck and eye. You leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.
The tall lean man seemed oddly calm. He cleaned his knife before pulling your hat pin out of the corpse’s head. Blood fountained out from the eye socket as he cleaned the gore off your pin. He turned, presenting you the slim steel by the decorative knob.
“Are you all right cher?” You took the pin back but didn’t replace it. You didn’t want any leftover gore in your hair.
“Alors pas! Give me a moment cher.” You took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a (thankfully dry) red tinged hand waiting for you. You placed your shaking one into it. The owner assisted you to your feet, guiding you away from the ever growing pool of blood.
“Quite a fright you’ve had my dear!” His crisp voice, with its transatlantic accent echoed as he escorted you away.
You shuddered slightly, realizing how bad things could have gotten. “At least it was just a fright. Thanks to you mister…?” You trailed off, still trying to place his voice.
“Alastor.”
Your eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ah! You’re the radio host!”
“I’m flattered you remember me! I’m afraid I have you at a disadvantage. You are Y/N, correct?” Dazed, you nodded. “I’ve been enthralled by your performances for months now, I had to learn more about you cher.”
“Why thank you, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them.” Suddenly you felt dizzy and stumbled along the path. Alastor swiftly caught you.
“I believe you’re a tad unsteady after being handled so roughly. May I?” Confused, you nodded and he immediately swept you into a bridal carry. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to escort you home.” He paused and added, “I will need directions of course.”
The thought of a man you just met bringing you home made you flush all over. No matter how gallant he was, the radio host was a stranger. But you didn’t think your legs could support you long enough. “If…if you would please.” You glanced back at the alley. “What do we do about…”
“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed as he strolled away. He had no difficulty carrying you. “I suppose a dead man is an inconvenience but I believe getting you somewhere safe takes priority. Certainly over a lowlife’s corpse.”
It was hard to argue with that logic. You directed him to your apartment, amazed that he was able to carry you that long and with ease. Once there, you allowed him inside. Once inside with a lamp lit, you realized what a mess both were. Your coat was splattered with blood and grime. Your dress was stained wherever the coat hadn’t covered it and your hat was long gone. The hat pin in your hand was mostly clean, but you spotted some blood and gore by the finial. Your shoes weren’t worth mentioning.
Seeing the result of your ordeal made the bile rise in your throat. You barely made it to the sink before vomiting. Thankfully you hadn’t eaten before leaving work so it was just bile. You faintly heard clinking and water being poured. Alastor appeared with a glass of water for you. “Ma cher, you look like you need a wash up. If you like, I can stay in the main room or I can make my way home. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.”
You found yourself asking him to stay as you cleaned up. Maybe you were being naive but he did just save you and you felt he didn’t have anything untoward in mind. When you asked about him, he merely chuckled and told you not to worry.
After you were cleaned and dressed in a nightgown and housecoat (and had added a torrent of tears to the bathwater) you emerged to find Alastor reading the newspaper in a chair. He’d made jambalaya for you both. “My mother’s recipe! So good it nearly killed her!” he quipped. Once you’d eaten you couldn’t keep your exhaustion at bay.
“You’re welcome to spend the night Alastor. I’d hate to send you home in the middle of the night.” The only problem was there was only one bed, yours.
“That is much appreciated Y/N. I can make myself comfortable in the front room for one night. I’ll leave you to rest while I clean up myself.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles and murmured “Bonne nuit, cher.”
Alastor left your sleeping form and made use of your washroom. He cleaned up methodically; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to wash up after a kill. His jacket was ruined, but at least the rest of his clothes were in decent enough shape. At least he wouldn’t scandalize anyone on the way home tomorrow.
Still, he was surprised that you had fought back as much as you had. Evidently that passion from your songs emerged elsewhere too. And the way you dispatched your attacker… he shivered at the beauty of it. The unexpected metal gleam in your hand, the furiously graceful arc as you swung and your perfect aim into the lowlife’s eye.
Alastor wasn’t much interested in pleasures of the flesh, he never had been and wasn’t still. He wanted to see more of you like that. Not scared and in need of rescue, but the hunter he recognized in your eyes.
“It seemed the songbird I’ve admired has talons.”
—————
The next morning you insisted on making breakfast; biscuits and gravy. Alastor seemed to enjoy it but he didn’t leave after eating. You thought he would need to get home before heading to the radio station. When you asked he said he was staying “just in case.”
Just before lunch there was a knock at your door. Alastor was closer so he answered it, almost like he was expecting it. Two policemen stood on the other side. “What can we help you with officers?” Alastor asked jovially.
“Is this the home of a Miss Y/N?” At your affirmative nod, the stockier of the two continued, “We’d like you to come down to the station Miss. We have some questions to ask you.”
“Ah, this must pertain to the dreadful ordeal my dear Y/N went through last night,” Alastor interjected. “Ma cher, why don’t you grab your things and I’ll accompany you.”
“And who might you be?” The lanky officer asked.
“Alastor, my good man. You may have tuned into my radio show!” He smiled thinly as the short one had a flicker of recognition. “I rendered some assistance to Y/N, so it’s probably best if I’m there as well. It would save you gentlemen a trip to my home to escort me in for questions, ha ha!”
By then you had your shoes and bag ready. “Dear you look lovely. Do you have your pin from last night, I’m sure these gentlemen will want to examine it.”
“Oh, that’s an excellent point Alastor.” You placed it in your bag, making sure the cover was on the tip.
Once at the station, you found out the trail from your attacker’s body to your apartment was fairly obvious. Some blood on the bottom of Alastor’s shoes led the way. As for what happened:
“The man accosted me on my way home. I tried to fight back, but he was ever so much stronger. It seems I was loud enough to grab Alastor’s attention. I’m so grateful he stepped in! The beast was distracted and I was able to get ahold of my hat pin. My mother always said not to leave without one and she was right! I meant to just scratch him but I’ve never had to do such a thing before; I hit his eye instead. Before I could do anything else Alastor was between us and then the ruffian was dead.”
“Indeed! I heard Y/N order the lout to release her and I ran up to assist. I had just been dealing with another lowlife who had also been following her. To think there are so many ne’er-do-wells on our streets! In any case, I dispatched the man and assisted Y/N home.” You hadn’t realized there had been another man following you. You shivered at the thought.
“And why were you in the area Mr. Alastor? Records show that neither your home or place of employment are in that area.”
Alastor’s eye twitched but his smile never faltered. “I’d had a lovely evening at the jazz club and felt a late night stroll was in order. I wasn’t even paying attention to where my feet were taking me! Perhaps it was providence guiding my way so I might save the lady’s virtue.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”
“I could barely manage to walk, I was in such a state. Alastor had to carry me home; I was in no condition to report anything, officers.”
“The lady had been assaulted on her way home and forced to defend herself. I felt it would be unworthy of a gentleman to leave her alone in her time of need.”
After a barrage of questions and a thorough examination of your hatpin, Alastor’s knife and the minor injuries you had suffered while being manhandled, the officers let you both go. They would provide all the evidence to the district attorney. But it seemed unlikely that either of you would be charged. You had been defending yourself and Alastor had defended you.
The charming radio host escorted you back home. “Won’t you be late for work at this point?” His broadcast covered a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.
“Hmm, perhaps.” He patted your hand nestled into the crook of his arm. “I still feel your wellbeing is more important however, my dear.” You felt a blush warming your cheeks. “On that subject, I believe you’re due to perform again tonight?” You nodded, he really did enjoy your performances if he knew your schedule. “I believe I will go mad with worry cher, might I escort you there and back home?”
This man was insinuating himself into your life so easily. Perhaps killing a man together had that effect. “Please do Alastor. I don’t believe I will be able to go on my own after yesterday.” You had reached your apartment while talking. “Then I shall return after I complete my broadcast. Until tonight cher.” He kissed your knuckles and saw you through the door before leaving. You turned on your radio and tuned the dial to Alastor’s station. About ten minutes after his broadcast normally began you heard the crackle of his voice.
“Salutations listeners! Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen, I know everyone has been eagerly awaiting the show. I am Alastor, a pleasure to be sharing this time with you all.” You sighed in relief. You would have felt terrible if helping you jeopardized Alastor’s job.
You left the radio on, letting his voice fill the apartment while you took care of minor tasks. Eventually he signed off with his normal outro “Until next time dear listeners, thank you and goodnight!” You didn’t know how long it would take for him to get from his station to your apartment but you felt it best to finish getting ready.
So you were dressed for the evening when he arrived. That was the start of a new routine for you both. Alastor walked you to work and back, enjoying the illicit beverages and your voice. Sometimes he would stay the night in your front room but he mostly dropped you off before making his way home.
He was a lovely conversationalist and those walks were much more cheerful than they had been. You felt easy around him in a way that was foreign but fulfilling. Eventually your friends and coworkers at the speakeasy asked if you two were courting.
You honestly couldn’t answer. You’d never had a beau before. According to friends over the years, you had been asked out by a lot of fellows and turned them all down. Was that why none of those men talked to you again? Apparently you hadn’t realized their intentions.
One night, a couple months after the attack, you mentioned this to Alastor. “Isn’t that strange, cher? They think we’re a couple!”
He stopped dead, his lips barely keeping their ever present smile as the rest of his features went blank. “Is…is this what courtship is?” He blinked down at the hand in the crook of his arm, the high heeled feet he had shortened his stride to keep in step with, the new gleaming hat pin he’d gifted you.
“I…am not really sure. I’ve never had a beau before.” You looked up at him, seeing the lips that gently kissed your knuckles every time you parted, the dark auburn hair you would stroke when he was stressed, the patterned bow tie you had given him the same day he gave you the pin. “Although, if this is what courting is, I’m glad it’s with you Alastor.”
“Hmm…” he resumed walking, this time humming one of the songs you sang that night. Once at your place, he finally replied. “I believe I agree with you my dear. Since we are a couple it seems, I’m glad it’s with you, Y/N.” He not only gave your hand a kiss, but leaned down to kiss your cheek as well. “I suppose you can tell your friends tomorrow they were correct. Bonne nuit, ma cher.”
Roughly a month later, Alastor was spending the night in your apartment when you felt the need to ask a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Alastor, cher,” you sat next to him, pulling his attention from the book he was reading. “Had…have you killed other people before that night?”
He froze, which really was all the answer you needed. “Are you still?”
For a man so glib, it took him a moment to find his silver tongue. “And if I am?” He choked out. “What will you do, Y/N?”
You studied him, making sure not to move and not to touch him. “I would ask what sort of people they are. And if they are of the same mold as the men who attacked me…then I’d also ask you to be careful, cher.”
He relaxed slightly. “Unfortunately there are a great many like-minded men in the world, although a few less in this city in the past few years.” He paused. “I can’t help myself dear. I see them acting as they do and feel the need to remove them from this life.”
Gently, you placed a hand over his. “I can hardly blame you for that. Especially after you saved me.” Your other hand turned his head to look into your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me, Alastor.”
The man was usually so composed; it was kind of cute to see him so surprised. He then cupped your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss.
It was one kiss and it didn’t last long. Pulling back from each other, he licked his lips while you pressed your fingertips to yours. “That was quite nice.” Despite singing so many songs about love, you had never been eager to try out all the steps of romance.
“Indeed it was. Shall we add that to our list of favorable courting actions?” You smiled and pulled out a paper, a fourth of the way filled with a list. You added “kisses on lips” to it.
Before too long, you were helping him with his activities. Initially you assisted in the clean up, but then you started taking part in the kills. Alastor admired your channeled fury and impeccable aim. You admired his precision and calculated execution. The two of you had to be sparing with your activities however. You didn’t want to draw suspicion. The kills were never closer than a week from each other.
Roughly a year after you met Alastor, the subject of marriage came up. It was while you two were disposing of another uncouth man; he made the mistake of trying to get you away from your beau and received knife stabs from both of you. You no longer had to rely solely on your hat pin; you had a stiletto blade of similar size now. Alastor finished covering the body in dirt; he refused to let you help with digging at all. Instead you kept an eye out as he did.
You provided him with a cloth to clean off the dirt. “Merci, ma cher.” Once he was ready you put it back into your bag and linked arms with him. As you walked together, satisfied, he asked, “Y/N, shall we get married?”
The question caught you off guard and you stumbled forward. Just like that first night, he caught you smoothly and lifted you into his arms. “ Alastor, darling, where is this coming from?”
“Some at the radio station inquired as to our relationship. I was informed that a successful courtship as ours generally results in a marriage.” He hummed as he carried you. “After some thought, I realized the prospect of wedding you is…very appealing.”
You nestled into his embrace. “I haven’t given it any thought. It would make life simpler, you wouldn’t have to dash around between our homes and work.” You mulled it over. You would like seeing him every morning instead of on occasion. The thought of your dresses next to his suits in the wardrobe, helping each other clean up after a kill, relaxing quietly on the couch while you both read… “Yes. Let’s get married Alastor. I’d like that.”
He smiled down at you, looking oddly tender considering what the two of you had been doing just half an hour ago. He leaned down to kiss you softly. “Let’s get you home and we’ll work out all the details tomorrow, my dear.”
Initially the two of you planned something simple. But once both your and his coworkers got wind of the nuptials, they insisted on a grand party. Apparently they all felt the two of you were adorably hopeless. Neither of you had realized how invested those around you were in your relationship. You and Alastor concluded that resisting your friends well-wishes was as pointless as resisting a hurricane.
So while the ceremony was a small affair, the party after was held at your club and lasted deep into the night. The proprietors had managed to get a bottle of champagne for you and Alastor. Despite it being your wedding reception, you couldn’t help performing one of Alastor’s favorite songs. He then kept you on the dance floor the majority of the evening. He danced as well as he talked. It was a good thing you’d had over a year as his primary dance partner.
You heard some ribald jokes about his stamina. At least that’s what they sounded like. You still couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much to either of you. All you cared about was your husband was having a great time, out dancing everyone in the building. Once it was time to leave, he carried you into a cab, then carried you into his home.
Despite what the guests had suggested, he was tired after all that. Frankly you were too. So once divested of all the fancy clothing, he tucked you into the bed and climbed in next to you.
For the first time since you met him, he looked nervous in the faint starlight. Of course. This was so far beyond both of your experiences. You probably looked the same. “Alastor? May I?” You held out your arms to him. He gave you a nod and you embraced him, slowly nestling your body against his. “Let me know if it’s too much, cher,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you.
He started to relax with you. His breathing matched yours, your heartbeat synchronized with his. You felt his arms growing heavy, their grip softening. Alastor nuzzled your hair and kissed the crown of your head. “Thank you for marrying me, Y/N.”
You smiled. “Thank you as well Alastor,” you replied before drifting off to sleep.
The two of you did have sex eventually. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding. You were both back to work after a brief honeymoon; when you got back the other singers, the band, even the bartender were all curious about your bedroom activities. They surrounded you while Alastor was conversing with another patron. When all you talked about was how nice falling asleep with him was and the cute sight of him sleeping as the sun rose, they stared at you slack jawed.
Your coworkers consulted amongst themselves. You heard snippets of “do we need to explain this too, did no one tell them about that, they’re both such lookers too, I don’t wanna tell her, you do it, no you, I ain’t gonna tell her.”
After some discussion it seems Mimzy, another singer was appointed to talk to you. “Y/N, sweetie, doll, did your mama ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” She guided you to the bar and requested drinks for you both.
“Mimzy! I do know about sex. Gracious, I’m aware of adult urges and where babies come from.” You threw back your drink. The curvy blonde breathed a sigh of relief; at least she didn’t need to go over the basics.
“That is usually what a honeymoon is for dearie.” Mimzy tossed back her own drink. “Look cutie, what you and your mister do at home is your business, but your friends don’t want you missing out! You two are good together; I’ve never seen either of ya this happy before.” She downed another drink before hopping over to the stage.
Alastor came up to your side. “Looks like your friends are all in a tizzy dear.” You smiled up at him. “Did you have a strange conversation with your colleagues today too?”
“Ah yes,” he leaned on his new cane, a wedding gift. “Concerning my bedroom prowess and your presumed enjoyment thereof.” You couldn’t help but laugh huskily. “The station manager even told me to ‘remember my duties as a husband.’”
You gave him a peck on the cheek. “I believe you’re going above and beyond your duties cher.” He kissed your hand and held it while the two of you listened to Mimzy’s set. “I’d best get up there darling.” You gave his hand a squeeze before going to take the stage.
You sang a mix of familiar tunes and a couple new ones you’d picked up on the honeymoon. To finish the performance, you sang the same number from your wedding night, which you had come to think of as Alastor’s song. Many of the patrons were familiar with the two of you, so listening to you sing to your husband made a number of them go misty eyed.
Once back at home, Alastor cleared his throat while unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to, cher?”
You continued to remove your jewelry. “Perhaps one day.” You applied cold cream to remove your makeup. “And you cher? Do you want to?” You asked back as you wiped your face clean.
He was putting up his suit, more intent on making sure it lined up on the hanger than usual. “Perhaps one day,” he echoed. He stopped fiddling with the suit and stood there in his underclothes. Alastor’s ever present smile was still there but his eyes looked lost.
You finished your nightly routine and went to him, asking gently before taking both his hands in yours. “Ma cher, when have we ever been a normal couple? We already have almost a full page of physical affections we enjoy. If we want to see if sex will be on that list one day we can. But not unless we both want to try it.” His smile became more genuine and he pressed both of your hands to his lips. “Thank you my dear.”
You gave him a playful look and started humming the opening bars to his song. Alastor gave you a quizzical look back as you started singing it. Before the first verse was over you pulled him into an impromptu dance. In the privacy of your bedroom, you and your husband danced into the night to your voice. To your delight, he joined you in duets and sang a solo for you as you slow danced together.
“Ah, my sweet songbird. I am glad I married you.”
“I’ve never really seen myself as a songbird before. If anything…” your eye caught sight of your hat pins on your vanity, “more of a shrike.” He looked at you in surprise. “A butcher-bird,” you clarified.
“No no, I’m aware. I never thought of that comparison for you. It fits though, they’re pretty little killers that impale their victims.”
“I’m glad you agree darling. Now, we should get some rest.” You put out the light and pulled him into bed. There was a bit of hesitation on his part as he laid down. But he was soon settling into what was becoming your normal sleeping positions: you nestled against his side with his arms around you.
A few days after that, he asked if you’d like to give sex a try that night. You didn’t have any problems with the idea so almost a month after your wedding the two of you tried it.
Of course you were both terribly awkward; Alastor pulled your hair more than once and you elbowed him in the neck. But the two of you managed it. Multiple times that night in fact. Evidently that was what those stamina comments were about. Afterward, as he held you close Alastor mused. “Hmmm, that was rather enjoyable. I still don’t understand everyone’s fascination but I’m not opposed to the occasional romp as they say. What did you think darling?”
You thought back. “Once we figured things out it was fun. I agree though, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed about it. It’s rather messy in the end. And I think we can add it to our list, as an occasional activity.”
He chuckled. “You can add it tomorrow.”
The next day, you joined the other singers chatting before the sets started. One of them was gushing over her new beau and you realized this was a great opportunity to let them know. “Alastor and I had sex last night,” you stated, cheerful and straightforward. Again with the slack jawed looks. “Multiple times actually. I’m glad I’m in such good shape, it was more exertion than I expected.”
After a beat one of the girls asked “Well? How was it?”
“Hm? Oh! It was fun. My legs are pretty tired so I don’t think I’ll be dancing much tonight though. Alastor enjoyed it too, so we decided to do it again someday.” You heard the band warming up. “I’m up first tonight, best get up there.”
As you left the group they started talking rapidly to each other. “Do you think they actually did? Don’t see why not, they are the strangest couple I’ve ever met, at least they’re strange together, I thought for sure one of them would be more excited about doing it…”
Your lives settled into a comfortable routine together. You both continued with your jobs; his broadcast was quite popular and as you increased your skill and song repertoire, you became more successful in the nightlife scene. He accompanied you everywhere which was exactly how you liked it. Every so often the two of you would kill a ne’er-do-well or three. Occasionally you had intercourse. You often danced together, both at the club and at home.
This continued for a number of years. By now almost everyone around you was used to the idiosyncrasies in your marriage and just didn’t question it.
One night in late summer the pair of you were in the woods, hiding the latest kill. As you kept watch in the humid air, Alastor was dumping dirt over the corpse. “Are you sure you don’t need help cher?”
He grunted while lifting more dirt. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made my darling wife fill a hole like this?” You could only shake your head in amusement. You shifted your feet but lost your footing in the process. Both legs swept out beneath you and you landed firmly on your rear. You did your best not to cry out in case your voice carried.
“Cher!” Alastor dropped the shovel to help you up. “Are you alright Y/N?” You nodded as you grabbed his outstretched hand. “Just slipped, I’ll be fine Alastor.”
You looked up at your husband and noticed that the branches of the nearby trees gave him the illusion of antlers. You were about to mention it when the sharp crack of a rifle rang out and suddenly his forehead blossomed into a spray of blood and brain matter. “ALASTOR!” His name ripped from your throat. He couldn’t hear it though; his smile was wiped away as his body dropped to the ground.
“Aw shit! I thought he was a deer!” The man who killed your husband yelled out, realizing what he’d done. You screeched and ran in the direction of the voice, pulling your hat pin out as you did so. The hunter wasn’t far. You leapt at him, screaming and crying. He was bigger than you but he wasn’t expecting a furious murderess to launch herself at him at full speed. He fell to the ground with you straddling his chest and you plunged the hat pin, the one Alastor gave you for your last anniversary, into the man’s eyes and throat. Over and over you shoved the steel into his face. The blood spray and viscera didn’t scare you anymore.
You faintly heard, “Jesus Mary and Joseph crazy bitch!” through your own screaming. You whirled in that direction to see the second hunter aiming his own rifle at you. You started to move toward him when you felt an intense pain at your brow, followed by nothingness.
282 notes · View notes
geekygalpal · 14 days
Text
As an Asexual I love RadioApple and seeing all the different specs of Asexuality and even seeing representation for my own specific brand of Asexuality.
I love reading fics where Alastor explains his feelings on sex, and Lucifer being absolutely okay with it, makes my lil Ace heart so happy.
This also goes for RadioDust, it also makes me happy cause of the notion that Alastor likes Angel Dust DESPITE his sex appeal and it just gives me Asexual Serotonin
197 notes · View notes
Text
2 years ago i had a fanfic idea where Monarch locked Adrien in a tiny padded room after discovering he was Chat Noir and took his Miraculous, but i discarded the idea because i thought Gabriel would never do that to his own son.
...
Turns out...
Tumblr media
580 notes · View notes
jellybellyjane1 · 4 months
Text
there’s no feeling like being excited to go into a x reader fic and realize after reading a bit that you can’t be the reader because you’re black…
160 notes · View notes
eviebane · 3 months
Text
This Ineffable Husbands fanfic has literally changed my life
I'm talking about this on Tumblr because 1) I love you guys and 2) it IS Good Omens relates and 3) it's nice to talk to strangers when you're still sort of figuring things out.
For over a decade I have self-identified as bisexual; made it a proud and visible part of my identity. But there's always been this thought bugging me that maybe I was asexual.
And look, I knew nothing about asexuality. I just knew I didn't feel the same as everyone else about sex. I write sex, I have sex, I am capable of enjoying sex! So surely asexuality is off the table?
OK so I do my research and realise it's a spectrum. I read about all the different labels and I can't find one that fits. When I discovered what 'bisexual' meant I immediately thought 'yep that's 100% me' and I was expecting the same light bulb moment, but it never came.
I've thought about it a lot for years and never came up with an answer.
Then two days ago I stumbled upon this goddamn fanfic of aspec Crowley. It was like reading my own thoughts!!! I keep reading, half hoping this fanfic will finally tell me WHAT I AM
But it didn't, not really. And it made perfect sense.
The paper-quilling metaphor - oh God it was like watching the puzzle pieces come together. I adored Crowley's lack of real interest in trying to label himself, and the journey from 'putting up with' sex to asexual celibacy to misunderstood seductions and to FINALLY finding a way that works
I just. I could write an essay about the things I love about this fic and how it helped my thought process. Because the #1 thing that helped me was seeing everything put in perspective, beyond labels and definitions
I don't want to label it anymore beyond aspec. I never wanted a label, really. What I've been searching for was just to understand what it was, or if what I felt was even real. A dictionary definition couldn't give me that, but seeing my own thoughts in this fic? Fuck. Yeah it's real
So, after I finished reading it, I discussed this fic with my partner and it was the first time I could explain how I feel in a way that made sense.
Being bi is still a part of me & always will be, but now I have this new part - well, not new. It's an old part of me that I've kept hidden for a long time because I thought it was broken and messy. Now, I look forward to wearing two colours at Pride next year
@missgiven Thank you for writing this fic ❤️❤️❤️
TLDR: fanfic made me realise I'm aspec
142 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
His Promise > P3.
Warning(s): Age Gap, mentions of bodily fluids, consensual sex between teen/older male, violence, triggering subjects, mentions of harassment, bullying, and/or sexual violence against minors (not by Rio!), physical assault, dark humor, and who knows what else…
Must be 18*. DO NOT INTERACT if you’re underaged.
Part one | Part two | Part three |
Description//: In which Rio was your father’s close friend, until your father was locked up and in order to pay him back for taking a wrap for him, he sets out to take you in after your fathers arrest.
————————————
He nodded his head. “Yeah, remember I used to be in your father’s gym all the time. So, when she would come, I would see her. But, let’s get going though. We have a long day ahead of us and I wanna get us breakfast.” You nod, following him out the house. He tossed you the keys. “You’re driving.” You smiled, rushing around to the driver side door of his black g-wagon. Backing out the driveway, you followed his directions. “Where we headed?”
“Same diner we ate at yesterday then from there, you and me gonna have a little workout.” You chuckled. “Work out?”
He nods his head. “Workout.” He repeated back to you. You were curious as to what he’d meant, You were not about to do anything crazy, You both entered the diner. He ordered what he wanted and you ordered what you wanted. You smiled as they brought out two big stacks of pancakes with syrup and butter and some eggs and bacon to the side. “Coffee, please.” You smiled up at the waitress. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Coffee?” You nod your head. “I don’t really like it, it’s just something I did with my dad and whenever I miss him, I crave it.” You answered him. He sat with his back against the wall his feet propped up and arm around the top of the booth, his eyes scanning the diner. “You not gonna eat?” You asked him
“I’m about to.” He leans forward looking down at his phone then at you. “You say you like your school, what child in their right mind likes school?”
You laugh. “I do. I mean, I’m a nerd. I love school, I just love to learn new things.” You shrug your shoulders. Rio dipped his fries into ketchup. “Steak and fries for breakfast?” He nodded his head, Rio wasn’t much of a morning breakfast kind of guy, although he liked the occasional waffle. He found himself wanting steak and fries this morning, him being a regular and this place being one of his money laundering businesses, he got what he wanted. “Perfect meal for the day.” He cut into his steak after applying steak sauce. Your mouth watered at the delicious sight of the well-done steak. You didn’t see how people ate their steak uncooked, it was just nasty.
“You want some?”
You shook your head no, biting into your pancake stacks that were on your fork. You smiled. “I’m good, thanks though.” He nods his head. He knew he was about to work this steak off so he wasn’t too worried. He still couldn’t believe how much you’d grown, he always knew that you would turn out to be a beautiful and respectful young lady, and you turned out just like he thought. At the moment, he didn’t think much of his attraction to you because at the moment, you was like his niece and his friends kid. “When the last time you talked to your dad?”
“Last time we talked was the day they hauled him away in handcuffs. I mean he tried to call a few times, but, I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”
Rio rubbed the side of his face. “Why you so hard on him? It was self defense.” You tapped the butt-end of your fork on the table, looking at Rio. Shaking you head, you rolled your eyes. “That’s what he says and wants me to believe. But I saw the photos. That man was beaten to a pulp. I’ve seen my dad beating someone in self defense. That’s not it. He beat that man with more than just his fist.” You we’re adamant on your belief. You loved your father, you wanted to believe in his innocence. “And I looked into his eyes, he lied to my face about what happened.” You pushed your food to the side.
“Can we not talk about him?”
Rio licked his lips. “No, mama. Because obviously there’s something you’re missing and clearly you got some anger towards your father. Does it matter what he did? He did what he had to do. He’s still your father.” You shook your head. “My father left me alone out here. He made a decision that gave him life in prison without the possibility of parole, he made me another stereotype. A black girl in a rich school whose father is locked up. Every day I go to school, kids pull at my hair, calling me all kinds of names. Calling me the seed of a murderer. Do you not know the humility I face every day?”
“And you think this decision was easy on him?”
You shook your head. “Rio.. you don’t get it. You want me to forgive him because you’re in the same line of work, and you want me to be forgiving of you if you choose a path that lands you in prison. Well, sorry to tell you but you wouldn’t matter to me. I appreciate you for helping me and all you’re doing but, if you went down.. there wouldn’t be a need to forgive you.” Rio shook his head. “You say that now. But I’m not saying what I’m saying for that. I have a son. Every day I’m out here doing what I do, is another day I’m missing out on being the father he deserves. Disappointing him. Disappearing every year. I barely see my kid. But my son knows that I love him, and if anything g were to happen to him- I would be the one handling shit.” He spoke stern. “You need to forgive your father because god forbid something happens to him in there, you wouldn’t forgive yourself. Your father is a good man. He’s no cold blooded murderer, don’t let the world change your views on him.”
You sighed. “So you have a heart now?”
“I never said I didn’t have one. I took you in, didn’t I?” You shook your head. Rio chuckled lightly, he sat up straight with his feet back on the ground. He looked at you, his hands joined together. “I’ve done some shit in my day. Shit I’m not proud of, things I do regret but at the same time that I don’t regret. I’m a bad man, a bad person.. but, I also have heart. But your dad? He’s a good man, he’s as good as it gets, Y/n.” You nod your head and sighed deeply, moving your braids behind your shoulder. “So, you ready to go to our next destination?” You nod your head.
Your eyes settled full of water. You stood outside your father’s gym that once was covered in crime scene tape and had a big foreclosure sign on the door, was now surrounded with new paint, some cars, and the tape was no longer there. “Rio?” Your voice croaked. He turned his head. “I bought it. It’s in your name now so it’s yours. It won’t ever be taken from you or your father again. I even upgraded a few things.” You were in awe. He was so different from his demeanor or his appearance. He was so sweet. “Let’s get inside and get to the business.” You followed Rio inside, looking around at all he had done with the place.
Tumblr media
“It looks so good in here.” You complimented his handy work
Rio nods. “Appreciate it. Why don’t you change into some thing more suitable.” Disappearing into the locker room, you gather everything you needed, you dressed in some shorts and a sports bra. Although it was a little too exposing for your liking, it was all right with you. You pulled your hair up into a high ponytail just as a man came in the room, you jumped. “Knock!” He held his hand up. “My bad, I’m sorry.” He smiled, backing out the room. You smiled slightly because he was kind of cute. You shook yourself out of your thoughts, walking out the room, seeing the guy from earlier. He smiled in your direction as he walks over to you. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t even know that anyone was in there.”
Tumblr media
“It’s ok, maybe knock next time.” You grabbed some gloves.
He looked around the gym. “You new here? I’ve never seen you around here before.” You fumbled with your fingers hoping someone would rescue you. “I-uh, I haven’t been here since it reopened,” you looked from your gloves as you nervously place your hands inside and brought your eyes to his perfectly designed abs and pecs, to his face. “Ah, well, I’m-” before he could introduce himself, Rio yells for you as he entered the ring. “Y/n, let’s go! We don’t have all day mama.”
“Oh, you with Rio?” He slightly stepped back.
You nod. “Uh yeah.. he’s a friend.” The guy nodded his head. “Oh okay. Well, I’ll let you get to that and I’ll see you around?” You nod your head starting to walk towards the ring, turning to speak to him one last time but he’d scattered off to the punching bag in the corner. “Distractions will get you hurt in this business.” Rio said to you as he stood at the door. “What business?” He shook his head. “Let’s go.”
“Fine. I’m fighting you?”
Tumblr media
He nods his head. “Yep. I wanna see how much of your skills you remember.”
“Okay.” You shrugged. You two started boxing, he swung but you dodged it punching him in the face with a right hook. He shook his head bouncing a little. “Good, good. But that’s just first luck. Don’t be cute. Pretend I’m those people at school that pick on you. Don’t let up on me.”
Tumblr media
You squelched. “Oh my! Rio! I’m so sorry.” You held your face as he sat there with a face full of blood, wiping the blood from his lips and nose. He coughed spitting the blood on the mat. “It’s all right. I told you, don’t go easy on me. What you apologizing for?” He laughed like a maniac, you were taken back. You had just almost beat this man face in and he’s laughing like it didn’t phase him. “I just almost beat your face in and you’re laughing?”
“Girl, you gotta do better then this to scare me. You did good. I’m proud of you.”
You raised an eyebrow as he stood to his feet. “Careful. You could have a concussion.” He smiled, looking down at you as you held him up, his ribs bruised from the constant punches and kicks you gave him. “You know, you got skills.” He smiled down at you. “Skills?” He nods. “Yeah, you ever thought of boxing professionally?”
“Mm, no. This is just something I do with my dad. It’s not something I see myself doing full time. It helps me blow off steam.”
He nods wrapping his arm around you. It was only the two of you now, as much as everyone wanted to continue watching Rio, who was never beat in the ring- get his ass beat more, he didn’t allow it. It was just the two of you, tussling and fighting on the mat. You felt alive again. You felt in control again. He sat down on the bench, looking up at you, you sat next to him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked over at you. “All of this.”
He shrugged. “You welcome. You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.” You smile, nodding your head. He looked at you, his thumb brushed against the busted lip he gave you and the glowing shiner. “I at least got a good couple punches in.” You laugh. “Yeah but how am I supposed to go to school tomorrow like this?”
“Mm, we will think about that when the time comes.”
———
Taglist: @xsweetdellzx @laylasbunbunny @hinatasfleshlight @skyesthebomb @bbygirlchristina @lovesanimals0000 @briana-mishell24 @wandasbitxh @littlebvbie @90sisthenew80s @tribalqueen20 @panicsinvirgo @star017 @zenxn20 @pearlkitten33 @rosegoldcoco @faatxma @princess96love @sorry-i-spaced @piccasoe @asiludida164 @thesirenrealm
942 notes · View notes
1-ker0sene-1 · 3 months
Text
×Kerosene Intro×
About Admin
I won't be telling my real name, but I don't mind just being called Kerosene or Kero. I'm over eighteen so if you see me on your MDNI posts I promise I'm an adult 🙏. I'm physically disabled and wheelchair bound, if you want to know more about that for some reason- feel free to ask I'm not ashamed of it at all. I write specifically for disabled readers, as I don't see a lot of fanfiction catering to us. I try to write readers as a rounded person and portray the struggles of a disability. ALSO. SO OPEN TO MAKING WRITING BUDDIES. I'M INSANE BUT ILY GUYS
Request Info
Requests are open! You don't have to be disabled to request particular disabilities. You don't have to be disabled to enjoy my writing either. Either way my posts might reach someone who doesn't get fanfiction representation♥️ If you want to request a disability, but don't want to publicly, please feel free to dm me and I won't even mention you specifically if you don't want. Right now, I write for a generic manual wheelchair user reader. I try not to delve too deep into the cause of the disability, so hopefully as many as you can, can still relate and feel included.
×Masterlist×
Call Of Duty
Series
The Dead Do Talk - Johnny MacTavish
Never Just Two - Ghoap
3 Bullets - Ghoap
Never Enough - Simon Riley
I Bite - NikPrice
Mutual Gain - Kyle Garrick
Oneshots
Therapy FWB - Simon Riley
Weekly Appointment - Kyle Garrick
Caregiver - Johnny MacTavish
Silver Springs - John Price
Home Is Where You Are - Poly141
Competition - TF141
Requests
Arthritis - Poly141
Prosopagnosia - TF141
Migraines - TF141
POTS - TF141
Epilepsy - Simon Riley
Ideas
(blurbs, unsure if they'll get full writings)
1, 2, 3, 4
90 notes · View notes
apalapucian · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“a fresh slice of a plastic galaxy on the ceiling of her four-poster, the renewed glow a nostalgic reminder of her earlier years in hogwarts. it should be cinnamon apple, not apple cinnamon, she remembers sometimes as well, laughing quietly in the dark, eyes already closed.
(also: because i like you, he said. not like that, he said. i think you're cool, he said.)” — bad day wall (ao3)
63 notes · View notes
spicybabyhoney · 4 months
Text
ok fun little sappy asexuality spectrum story:
whenever I get down about how society does not normalize or facilitate learning about asexuality and I start to think negatively about prospects of relationships where I am not disappointing people, I pull up that trusted "asexual character" tag on AO3. and I read little stories about people loving asexual people and offering them space and learning together and trying things out. I find comfort in reading dialogue of affirmation and validation to asexual characters.
But to have that happen in real life?
It was beyond incredible to have these same echoes of love and respect and validation and affection said by my girlfriend. As if the things I had read could be real. The respect for asexuality and the commitment to caring about me as a person beyond that aspect of a relationship was only something I had dreamed of. Only something I had found in one-shot fanfictions written by people like me seeking representation in the safe space of fandom.
I’m just really happy. & I wanted to send some asexual hope and joy out to anyone else who is searching that “asexual character” tag on AO3 dreaming of accepting and respectful love.
141 notes · View notes
thefrogdalorian · 2 months
Text
All The Nice Things in Life
Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Word Count: 2569 Rating: General Summary: During your usual weekly trip to your favourite Market on Nevarro, you get a little overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. Fortunately, you have an exceptionally caring and attentive Mandalorian for a partner, who manages to calm you down and make you see that you are not a burden to him, despite your worries. Content Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and description of sensory overload. Author's Note: Finally got round to moving this fic to tumblr! It's the first I wrote in my Din Djarin x Neurodivergent Reader series and I really hope it brings you some comfort should you ever need it.
Read on AO3
My Masterlist
Tumblr media
Despite your best efforts to keep the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm you since you had set out that morning inside you, and not let Din see… things had gotten too much for you to handle and you had finally lost your composure. Fortunately, you were back in the sanctuary of the Cabin on Nevarro you shared with Din and Grogu before you fully lost control of yourself. You had tried your best not to give the impression that you were struggling, you hadn’t wanted to worry Din – the man was too attentive to your every need. You hadn’t wanted to ruin your day out but you had just about managed to make it back to the cabin before you exploded.
It had started off just like any other way you spent this particular day – heading into Nevarro’s town centre to explore the weekly Market. Since Din had asked you to move in, it was part of the routine you had enjoyed together. You hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, nightmares had plagued you, so you already felt slightly on edge. But you hadn’t wanted to let Din down, you knew it was something that he always looked forward to each week. On this particular day, a variety of vendors came to the planet to show off their latest wares that they had accumulated throughout the galaxy. You weren’t always sure how legitimate some of the characters were, given the astonishingly cheap prices, but you had experienced enough in this life to know better than to ask questions. Grogu enjoyed going almost as much as his father did, the little womp rat loved nothing more than running you and Din ragged between stalls, begging for food with his big pleading brown eyes. The number of times you had scolded him for using the Force to try to steal things behind your back was bordering on ridiculous. But you loved the mischievous little boy and you couldn’t help but find a way each week to convince Din to give him a treat of some description.
You hadn’t wanted to give any hint that you felt off that morning when you woke up. 
Due to your nightmares, you were awake and out of bed before Din. You had used the fresher first, when you came out you had gone straight to Grogu’s room, not having the heart to face him – fearing that he would sense that something was off. You had heard Din pottering around the cabin, having a shower in the fresher and eventually padding to the kitchen to brew the caf - as was your daily routine. You brought Grogu in and as the three of you sat down at the table to eat a simple breakfast, it almost felt normal. An idyllic family scene against the chaos and discomfort that raged inside of you.
After breakfast, as Din packed some bags up of things he wanted to bargain with or sell to vendors at the Market and carefully polished his beskar’gam, you knew you didn’t have the heart to tell Din that you weren’t feeling well. You knew that if you gave even the slightest hint of discomfort, that he would have soon forgotten about his own desire to go to the Market and put everything into worrying about your well being instead. It was amazing how caring he was, but you felt like a burden to have someone care for you that deeply. The guilt of feeling like you were somehow ruining his life was too much sometimes. You wondered if he ever yearned for the simpler life he had when it had just been himself and Grogu here.
But you had successfully managed to push those feelings down somewhere deep inside of you and put on a brave face. Things had been going well and you had managed to get over your initial apprehension about going to the Market. A ride on the back of Din’s speeder – with Grogu perched in his little bag – had certainly helped. Any time you got to hold the man you loved so much around the waist and feel the warmth from his body beneath the beskar was bound to settle your nerves.
You had arrived at the Market just before the afternoon rush and when the heat was at its highest. Things had been fine, your earlier apprehension seemed to have been forgotten. Grogu had been a little mischievous, whining for food and looking admiringly at a Loth-cat plush that you had eventually managed to persuade Din to give into his reservations and buy for him. The kid had enough toys, but truly the thought of seeing Grogu cuddling a little Loth-cat was doing wonders for your mental state. The way his little face lit up as you placed it into his chubby green claws and he squeezed it – like Din had once told you he had squeezed and Anzellan droidsmith – did, in fact, soothe your nerves. The sight was one of the cutest things you had ever seen.
You had spent a comfortable hour or so walking up and down the various Market stalls, Din by your side. Occasionally, when you got to more crowded areas, he would place a protective hand on the small of your back. It always made you feel so loved, feeling what good care he took of you and how unashamed he was to show his affection for you in public. You knew how many heads Din always turned, curious glances that were sent the way of you and your shiny Mandalorian. 
But at a certain point – without much warning – things began to feel too much for you to bear. Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Not being able to see Din’s face wasn’t helping – those kind, gentle brown eyes that you loved so much. Perhaps it was the heat and brightness of the sun; or the overpowering noise of the conversations of hundreds of people fighting against the yells from the vendors; or the crowds that did not seem to thin no matter which way you turned, making you feel as though you were trapped; or the way everyone seemed to be staring at Din. Your rational brain knew that they were just intrigued seeing a Mandalorian back on Nevarro, but the more irrational parts of yourself felt paranoid that everyone was staring at you – judging you. You felt your head beginning to buzz loudly; every noise felt agonising and every step you took felt heavier and heavier until you could not take another. You had to get out of here.
“Din, I need to get back to the speeder.” You mumbled shakily, before running off back through the crowds towards where you had come from. Your body felt as though it was on autopilot and you were back in a flash. Somehow you had managed to part the crowds and fight your way back.
Mercifully, Din had quickly found his way back to the speeder and you did not have to wait long until you saw him. You noticed how his chest was heaving, he must have sprinted after you. He immediately noticed the way you were trembling and moved to place his arm around your shoulder.
“Is there anything I can do here to make you feel better?” Din asked, his modulated voice full of concern.
You shook your head.
“Do you want to go home?”
You nodded slowly, grateful that he was asking questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He was so attentive in that way.
“Okay, it’s fine, cyare.” Din soothed. “Get your goggles on and let’s go.”
You clung so tightly that you feared you might suffocate him, but of course you were a trembling mess; even at your strongest you would be no match for the tough mandalorian warrior that you loved so much.
When you made it back to the cabin – mercifully it was a relatively short ride – Din took Grogu to his room for a nap, while you paced in the living area, wringing your hands. Finally, when Grogu was settled, Din made his way into the room. Mercifully, he had removed his helmet and changed into some more comfortable clothes. You respected he had to wear his helmet and armour when you were out and about, but you appreciated just being able to see the man beneath the armour when it was just the two of you here.
“Do you want to discuss what caused it? Din asked, seeing that you were clearly still distressed.
You just shook your head and quickly headed towards the comfortable couch in the main living area. You plopped down there, covering your eyes with your hands.
“Can I hold you?” Din asked, his deep voice never failing to surprise you in how soft it could be.
You nodded, feeling the tears you had been holding in being suddenly violently ripped out of you as Din’s arms snaked their way around your body. With him you always felt safe, you felt a certainty that things were going to be alright that you had been chasing for so long.
“Hey, hey… please take a deep breath.” Din asked, “Match my breathing.”
Din placed your hand on his chest between the two of you, so you could feel the deep breaths he was taking and try your best to match your own to them. But it was hopeless, though you had tried your best to fight it since the moment you had woken up, your anxiety had won the day.
“This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.” You choked out as you sobbed inconsolably.
Din’s heart ached to see you this upset, he wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. The love he held for you and Grogu was more than he had ever hoped to find in his life. Din had spent so much of his life alone and now having experienced the honour of loving another made him wonder how he had ever dealt with life alone.
“You are not stupid.” Din whispered. “You are the furthest thing from stupid.”
“I’m so weak and pathetic, Din. I ruined your day… I know how much you wanted to look at the stalls with the plants for the garden here and we couldn’t even make it that far before I ruined everything, just like I always do!” You said as you shook violently.
“Look at me.” Din said, releasing his strong hold on you but keeping a protective arm around the small of your back as he tilted up your chin to meet his kind brown eyes that were filled with so much concern for you. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”
His words brought your tears out in fresh floods, but they were no longer the violently distressed sobs that had wracked your entire body. You were moved by his emotions towards you.
“You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here.” Din soothed. “I admire your strength. I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, cyar’ika. If someone spoke about you the way you spoke about yourself… I would hunt them down and make them pay for daring to speak about the person who holds my heart like that. But it’s you… so I can’t. It breaks my heart to hear you talk about yourself in this way.”
Din released your chin – not before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead – and pulled you back into a tight hug.
“Please tell me what I can do for you.” Din said into your hair, softly.
“Just hold me, Din.” You asked.
Din stroked his thumbs against your shoulders gently and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Sometimes when you got overwhelmed, the thought of being held was disgusting to you… but with Din, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You knew if things ever felt too overwhelming, though, that Din would take no offence to you asking him not to touch you.
Once you had calmed down enough, you were filled with an overwhelming need to apologise again:
“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly, struggling to meet Din’s gaze. “We were supposed to have a good time at the Market. I wanted to get an ice cream with Grogu at the end.”
“Will you stop apologising please?” Din said calmly. “Grogu had a wonderful time, we spoiled him with that Loth-cat plush, which he’s currently cuddling as he naps. He had more than enough to eat!”
“I’m sorry… dank ferrik! I’m sorry for saying sorry again!” you laughed
“What am I going to do with you?” Din rolled his eyes lovingly and pulled you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Apart from spending the rest of my life loving you?”
“I don’t deserve you, Din.” You said, blushing.
“Of course you do… I would be lost without you. I was lost until you and Grogu came into my life.” Din said solemnly, brown eyes momentarily flickering with the pain that life as a solitary bounty hunter had caused him. “But now you’re here… I’m not letting you go without a fight. Even if I have to fight you for being mean to yourself sometimes. Okay?” 
“Okay.” You replied, his words were exactly what your frayed nerves needed to hear.
“We’ll get through this.” Din reassured you. “We always do… you always do.”
Later on – after you had woken up from the nap that Din insisted you take after the exhausting toll getting into such a state had taken on your body – you smiled as you the smell of your favourite dish drifted down the hall and into the bedroom from the kitchen. Din was still learning how to cook properly but he always made an effort for you, despite his inexperience and general clumsiness in the kitchen. 
You walked towards the kitchen, thanking the Force for the day it made you cross paths with Din Djarin, wondering what you would do without him. Din’s face immediately lit up when he saw you walk through the door and – as you sat down to eat with your boys – your heart felt lighter already as you looked at the pair of them. The meal was delicious and clearly prepared with a lot of love, even if it did not look all that appetising… you knew that Din had tried his best. 
After you had finished eating – complimenting Din’s efforts throughout – your favourite Mandalorian insisted that he had a surprise for you. As he pulled the treat out of the freezer section of the conservator, you realised exactly what it was – the ice cream from your favourite Vendor at the market. Somehow he had gotten hold of it; it must have been when you were taking your nap.
As you sat there at the table, indulging in your favourite sweet, creamy treat that the man you loved so much had gone to such trouble to source for you – after realising how upset you had been to miss out on it at the Market before – you realised that this was exactly what you deserved in life. 
You were not a burden, you knew Din would never view you as a burden. You deserved all the nice things in life. 
86 notes · View notes
Text
It's That Time of Year Again...
Drarry Disability Fest 2024
Welcome Back to the 2ND YEAR of Drarry Disability Fest (2024)!
For those who don't know, Drarry Disability Fest is a fest dedicated to the accurate representation of disabilities, d/Deafness, medical conditions, and mental illness; Drarry Disability Fest is the first of it's kind. In this fest there will be no romanticism of disability (though romance will definitely be present elsewhere), instead we want our artists and writers to focus on accurate depiction - whether it be of the sad, mad, or glad times of disability and mental illness.
Our goal is to add diversity to the Drarry fic and fanart community, and we firmly believe that while disability and mental illness can be very difficult to handle, they do not mean that we're destined to a life of inaction and solitude; we are an empowered community.
All the mods for this fest are disabled/mentally ill to some extent, and have experience with a variety of additional disabilities to ensure that we have maximum ability to give feedback and filter prompts to the best of our ability.
We would also like to say that everyone's experience with mental illness and disability is different, so if you end up reading a depiction of your illness or disability that differs from your own, please accept that we do our best to filter the media in this fest so that it is safe for disabled readers, and remember that every different experience with a condition is valid.
This fest will not be anonymous, and we're posting to the fest AO3 Collection in July as that is Disability Pride Month. This year we are starting everything slightly earlier so that all you beautiful creators have more time to create, so follow our tumblr and join our discord sever to be sure you don't miss anything.
Anyone may prompt to this fest, even if you don't plan to create anything, however we will be filtering your prompt submissions on the AirTable to ensure they are sensitive to the disability/mental illness you are wishing to see depicted.
You don't need to be disabled to write about disabilities, but please do your research, ask questions from disabled sensitivity readers, and if you're ever unsure our wonderful mods Ceylon, Rowan, and Kel are happy to help. We have a wordcount minimum of ~1000 or equivalent. This means if you're not doing a written piece then put in the effort equivalent in your digital fanart, podfic, or other media. We do not accept videos at this time.
Beta readers/viewers are required for each submission. You can self prompt when claiming, and you can claim multiple prompts as long as you submit each work before claiming a new prompt.
The Dates are as follows in MST/MDT:
February 29 (Leap Year): Prompting Begins
March 20: Prompting Closes (Self-Prompting still allowed)
April 1: Claiming Opens
June 15: Claiming Closes
June 16 : Submissions Deadline
July 1: Posting Begins
July 31: Posting Ends & Fest Wrap-up
Further in depth fest rules can be found at the pinned post on our tumblr, please give them a read as they have been updated!
Your mods: Rowan @basicallyahedgehog (tumblr), Ceylon @quackquackcey (tumblr), Kel @slytherinthelibrary (tumblr)
A PSA: We acknowledge that J.K. Rowling is the author of the series this fandom is based in, however all mods involved strongly disagree with and refute any and all racist, antisemitic, transphobic, homophobic, and other prejudiced ideas the author holds. This is a safe space for trans people and two of our mods are trans themselves. If you are transphobic or homophobic or otherwise prejudiced against any marginalized group; you are not welcome here.
76 notes · View notes
stories-and-chaos · 2 months
Text
Shrike: Angel Learns a Lesson
Tumblr media
[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable. Silly one shot inspired by my brain saying ‘what if a Stolas-esque bleep fest was extremely clinical’]
[One shot, 1106 words, no warnings needed]
—————
“Okay toots, you an’ me gotta talk,” Angel Dust found you reading in the hotel parlor. The lanky spider demon had been itching to talk to you one on one since you moved into the hotel. You’d moved into Alastor’s suite, happy to finally have your husband back after his seven year ‘sabbatical.’ That meant you were mostly in the Radio Demon’s company. Angel had learned not to ask him about sex the hard way.
You looked much more approachable. You had the air of a delicate bird. A little shorter than Vaggie, you had the perfect amount of curves for an hourglass figure. The shimmering flapper dress you wore showed that off nicely. Even though your arms and legs were vividly red for ⅔ of their length, they weren’t too alarming. Even your talons looked delicate. The black mask across your eyes was striking but offset by the fluffy silver hair framing your face. Your wings didn’t have a sharpness like a bird of prey and were proportioned more like a songbird.
All in all, you looked sweet, cheerful, and non-threatening.
So on a day that Alastor was out while you remained at the hotel, Angel Dust got the perfect opportunity to get some of the goods about tall, dark, and spooky. “Oh! Angel! What can I help you with?”
“I gotta know sweet cheeks, what do you an’ Al get up to?” You made an inquiring noise as you tilted your head to one side. Even that motion was bird-like. The porn star stared at you, unsure if you were pranking him. But the silence stretched on and he realized you actually didn’t understand. “Wha…how…you…” he didn’t know how to talk about sex with someone who didn’t understand innuendo. “How do you and Smiles have sex?”
That just confused you more. “Angel, ma petite araignée, I thought you worked in the sex industry. Surely you know the mechanics.” You paused. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t put it past that lousy moth to keep you in the dark.”
“I know how banging works! Jeez, I can’t do this sober.” He ordered drinks from a Husk that was trying not to laugh. He drank one, got a refill and brought one back for you as well. “A’right. You and Alastor are both as thick as two short planks about anything sexy, so I wanna know how you guys ever do anything in bed. Besides sleeping,” he hastened to add.
“Ooooooooh, okay! Sure, I don’t mind talking. But you gotta explain all those innuendos we don’t understand, got it cher?”
“You got it toots. Now spill, start with how often you do the deed.”
You sipped your whiskey as you thought back over the last century. “Mm, anywhere from one to four times a year? It varies, but infrequently is a good way to put it.”
“You only have sex once a year?!”
“I didn’t say that. It’s usually just for the night but intercourse occurs more than once when we feel up to it. Multiple times usually,” you clarified with a chuckle.
“Okay, makes sense, ya got me there. So it’s just when you’re both in the mood then?”
“I suppose you could put it that way. It’s an enjoyable activity, just not something we need to do. Or want to do as much as most.”
“A’right, we got the scheduling figured out. I gotta know technique. Positions, toys, he into kinky shit? You into kinky shit?” He leaned on the couch back, thrilled that he got you talking.
“Well [redacted] is our usual position. We’ve tried [beep], [bleep], [what], [why]. Oh and [really?] but that was uncomfortable for Alastor. [redacted] and [redacted] were fun but we were so worn out the next day. I like [beeeeeeeeeeep] to mix things up. I don’t know if they count as kinky but [oh god], [nope], [beepbeep], [thats a thing?], [redacted], [please stop], [srsly], and [wow] are all things we’ve attempted over the years. I like some [bleeping all this] and [this too] personally while he enjoys [hide your eyes], [nope], [double nope]. Oh, I almost forgot [holy shit], we gave that a try before his sabbatical.” Angel and Husk both looked at you in disbelief as your list grew. Then you continued.
“As for toys…[don’t wanna know], [redacted], [dang girl], and [bleepbleepBLEEP] all see some use. I guess [redacted] also counts. We tried [no thanks] but I hated it. We’ve both agreed we never want to try [ew] or [gross]. [How even?] has been fun. Alastor has indulged me with [no more please] a few times. Of course I reciprocate with some [BEEPBLEEP] if he asks. But really it’s mostly [redacted] for us. I’m sure we’re terribly boring compared to what you’ve been up to, ma petite araignée.”
Angel blinked at you in a daze. He held his drink loosely in his hand before downing it in a desperate gulp. Husk was once again pulling his ears down in extreme embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say that toots.”
You brushed his mop of hair from his face. The poor thing looked dazed. “Angel, cher, I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight. Husk, do you have any water for him?”
“Getting to know the guests my dear?” Alastor manifested from the shadows, making Angel jump and you smile.
“More the other way around darling.”
“So long as everyone is behaving themselves. I wanted to know if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight? I’ve come across a little place that claims to have authentic Cajun cuisine.”
“Mais oui! Although I’m surprised you’re willing to try after what happened to the last restaurant.”
“You cannot dump black pepper into sausage and rice and call it jambalaya. It’s a sin and a disgrace and the place deserved to burn for it.”
“Right you are, Alastor. Am I dressed well enough or shall I go change?” You stood up and twirled for his inspection.
“Hmm, lovely as always my dear.” He held out his arm for you. “Until later chums!”
“We’ll be back! Make sure you get some rest Angel,” you called as Alastor led you out.
Once the two of you were gone, Angel slumped over Husk’s bar. “I didn’t imagine that right? You heard her too, right?”
“Oooh yeah. I kept saying not to ask, but you just had to know.”
“Yeah well I learned my lesson. I’m gonna need another drink after that.”
“Nah, I think Y/N was right about you having enough for now.” Husk pushed a glass of water over to him, garnished with a lemon slice.
“Asshole.” Angel did drink the water though.
A/N: This is absolutely drawn from my being married for 10+ years and still not understanding innuendos. Doesn’t matter how many times we’ve done it, that’s not how I’m wired. I’m going with “you can’t be embarrassed if you don’t care” as to why Shrike is so frank with Angel btw. It’s as embarrassing as picking out her shoes for the day. Also when you’re approaching triple digits in how long you’ve been with a partner, I figure you’ve tried everything under the sun and beyond, purely out of curiosity. My count has roughly 600 instances from 150 evenings over their life- and death-time. Feel free to mad libs her bleeped portions, I honestly only filled in a third of them in my brain, and the canonicity is dubious anyway.
@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3
369 notes · View notes