#acespec reader

[lennadanvers]

His Home

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Ace!Reader

A/N: I'm a day late to Ace Week, but I really wanted to post this. I'd love to see more ace representation in fanfiction, so I'm doing my part. Plus, this kind of relationship has always been my favorite- there's something about undefined love that makes it perfect. I really like this one, so much that I wrote it while studying for my History exam. I hope you love it too, happy belated Ace Week!

Ghost is the first one to ask about it.

About you.

It’s late, you went to bed an hour ago, and Johnny offered him a beer. They’re looking at the empty front yard, a normal street in a normal neighborhood- a rare sight for soldiers of their kind. The food you and Soap made for the occasion sits warm in their bellies. The air smells of quiet and night.

Simon has known Johnny for a long time- and he has known him well. He didn’t know about this, though. He heard about you, of course. The first time Soap wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home, it was your name he mumbled. Instructions were clear: his dog tags were for you to receive. Along with everything else in his barracks. Ae dinnae care aboot all the rules. Ye gotta take me home tae ‘er.

Ghost knew you weren’t married- he would have seen it in his sergeant’s paperwork. He decided you were his girlfriend, then.

Until someone flirted with Johnny at a bar, and he happily told them he was single. Single. It didn’t lead anywhere, anyway; he came back to base with the rest of the team that night. Maybe he didn’t have a bird at home anymore, thought Simon.

But then there was the roommate. Soap was always talking about the roommate, how she would always leave hairs in the shower, how the laundry detergent smelled like flowers back home. It was said with fondness, the kind of affectionate jab one develops with family or very close friends. Ghost supposed you might be a childhood friend, then. Someone who had always been in Johnny’s life.

Come the end of their last mission, he had nowhere to stay at. His apartment was waiting for him, of course, but it was as empty and cold as any hotel room. His sergeant invited him home- tae meet ma girl. His girl. That was not a relationship status- no friend, no sister or girlfriend. Just girl, his girl.

He had to say yes.

Then there were you. Johnny’s age, bright eyes full of affection when you saw him. Small, soft hands ruffling the mohawk, saying it was getting out of hand. Nodding when he asked for another trim, bonnie, aye?

You hugged him around the neck, face under his chin. Ghost feared you would suffocate his sergeant. But Johnny’s face was pink, relaxed for the first time since before the mission. His arms were at your back, hands rounding your waist- they were used to that place. His nose deep in your hair- Simon felt like he was overstepping, like he wasn’t meant to see that. No one was.

Until you gave a step back- soft smile, soft eyes, soft Johnny- and welcomed him to your home. You called him L.T., like you knew him. Simon suspected you did. You didn’t try to shake his hand or- God forbid- hug him hello. You didn’t even risk a step into his personal space. He didn’t think it was out of fear- you didn’t blink twice at the black surgical mask. You just smiled and gave him a tour of the house.

That was another thing, the house. Tiny and tidy, cozy. Ghost didn’t have much experience with homes, but that’s what it looked like to him. A place lived in, well loved. A place with a past. Even more intriguing, a place with a future. By the way you talked, he gathered you weren’t renting. This place was owned. Something for the long run.

When you got to the hallway, though, you pointed to the last door. That’s my room! You can knock if you need anything, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Then to the one before that: That’s Johnny’s. Then the guest bedroom and the bathroom.

So you don’t sleep together.

Which would have been an answer to his curiosity, if it weren’t for the kitchen. After he left his stuff- a half-empty duffel bag- in the guest room, Simon went back to the small but charming space that is- all in one- your kitchen, living room and dining room. He was still in his soldier headspace, which means his steps were quiet. When he stepped into the kitchen, neither you nor Soap noticed him there.

You were laughing, hand on his bicep, eyes closed. Johnny was smiling. His shoulders down, his face soft. He grabbed your hand and brought you closer in a weird hug. You swayed together, and Simon almost heard the music you were dancing to. It went on for a while. Johnny went to grab a knife and you’d already placed the cutting board in front of him. You grabbed the oven mitt and he opened the oven.

You two are the perfect machine, always knowing where the other is going next. The smiles never falter. For the first time in years, Simon feels like he’s in a home. It’s confusing and startling. How come Soap has this waiting for him? How is he even able to go on deployment, knowing he might not have the chance to dance around you in the kitchen again?

The thought sparks memories. Soap’s sketchbook, a gleaming eye peeking from the page. His tactical jacket, jasmine perfume as they march through a field. A hair tie in the keychain. Gunpowder hands buying a bracelet in a faraway country. Making flower crowns while waiting for the target to show up. Dodging bullets with blue fevered eyes. Take me home tae ‘er.

He cleared his throat, and you handled him the plates to set on the table.

After dinner, you said goodnight. Johnny kissed your cheek; I left some beers in the fridge. Another kiss on the forehead. You waved at Simon, sweet and tired. Soap’s eyes followed you through the hallway.

Out in the cool night air, Simon asks.

“Tha’ ‘er?”

Soap flinches in his seat. The bottle in his hand twinkles under the stars. Doesn’t seem willing to reply. Maybe he doesn’t know how.

“The one from yer drawings?”

The nod is soft.

“Aye.”

Interrogation is an art. Ghost knows many ways to get information out of people. None of them work better on his sergeant than silence. The man has a need to fill empty spaces.

So he waits until Johnny takes the bait.

“A’v always known her.”

Another silence. Simon doesn’t need to ask the question out loud.

“We arenae datin. She isnae ma girlfriend. Or wife,” Jhonny’s voice is warm and liquid. “She's the love o ma life.”

Curiosity bubbles again. How does this life fit with the man out in the field? How come a cozy little house is home to a demolition expert?

“How’s tha’ work?”

Soap’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a defensive stance.

“She doesnae want sex.”

That’s not quite an answer, so Simon waits. Johnny’s back relaxes slowly, as if relieved by the lack of a reaction.

“But ‘a dinnae care aboot all that stuff. She's here whan ‘a come home, an she takes care o’ me. A tak care o’ her. Thare's nothin more than that.”

Nothing more he could ask for. Nothing more he’d ever want. His eyes glow blue, melting ice in the night. Ghost wonders, surprised, how he never saw it. How he didn’t realize.

After that, he doesn’t ask any more questions. There’s nothing else he’d need to know, really. When the bottles are empty and the air a little too cold, they retreat to their rooms.

The next morning, Simon stays in bed a little longer than usual. He listens to your soft steps in the hallway, the little knock on the door and Johnny’s raspy laugh. He hears the sheets and the whispers, the way he tells you stories about their last deployement- some true (only the lighter ones), the rest made up, with a handsome, Scottish hero. He pictures you tucked in Johnny’s side, his hand in your hair, easy smiles lighting up the room. And he understands. Once again, his sergeant’s words sound in his head.

A dinnae care aboot the rules. She’s ma girl, L.T.

[clone-anon-after-dark]

Just As You Are (Wolffe x GN!Asexual!Aromantic!Reader)

Word count: 2047

Warnings: I’ll say NSFW for mention of having sex to make past partners happy, mention of masturbation, minors DNI

A/N: This is my first time writing Reader who is strictly aroace so I hope I did it some kind of justice. I know not all aroace people express themselves in the same way, so this is just one version I had in my mind. I believe what I write is referred to as a queerplatonic relationship? No pronouns are used for Reader.  There is cuddling, bedsharing, and some sweetness, but not romance in the way a lot of people think about it. I think that touch is great and can be a wonderful way of communicating in all relationships, including platonic relationships, so there are some quick kisses, hugs, hand holding, etc.

You'd first met him when helping Rex with some clones who escaped The Empire. They were all stressed and in need of serious help. You ran into him and Gregor on the lower levels of Coruscant. You were selling some speeder parts to another vendor and they were looking for some specific ship parts. One thing led to another and Wolffe's visits to your shop became more frequent. You liked him. He was quick-witted and kind. You weren't sure exactly what you thought about him, just that he had a special place in your heart. Sex wasn't for you. Romance wasn't for you either, but you loved his company. 

Sometimes he would sit with you while you tinkered in the shop, trying to fix something for him while he waited.  You didn’t give too much away at first, but as you got to know each other, you opened up more and so did he.  Like his brothers, he had been through a lot in the war.  You thought he was brave and thoughtful and still managed to keep a sense of humor after all that.  

Wolffe was there the day you broke down and admitted you needed a fresh start and had decided to sell your shop and find some other place in the galaxy. You apologized, knowing they depended on you, but knew life on Coruscant was getting too dangerous to stay.

"Come with us," he said. "There's room for you and we could use your skills. Besides, I'd miss you if I didn’t get to see you again."

You were shocked at first, but within a week a half dozen clones scoured what supplies and parts you had left in your little workshop. You told them to take what was needed and were able to sell the shop and what was left as-is. Wolffe helped you carry your few personal belongings to the ship he now lived on with some of his brothers. You walked away, at least grateful to have someone who cared.

“Everything will work out,” he said.  You smiled up at him and nodded.  You hoped so.

Wolffe helped you get settled in your own bunk on the ship.  Room was rather scarce, but there was some space for each of you.  You traveled with them, helping other clones escape, but found yourself helping the most with everyday tasks.  Cooking, fixing clothes, knowing when to barter, trade, or flat out buy something, and how to fix items.  These were all things they had never had to worry about before. Food was in the mess, they dropped off their blacks to get fixed if they ripped, and they never worried about money or buying supplies during the war.  The GAR took care of it, even if the food wasn’t particularly delicious or plentiful.

One night, as you sat in the cockpit together, keeping an eye out for any problems on the backwater planet you’d settled on for the night, Wolffe decided to make his feelings known.  He turned to you and rubbed the back of his head before taking a deep breath.

“I care about you, you know.”

You looked at him and smiled. “I know. And I care about you.”

“I mean, I think I am in love with you,” he replied.

You felt butterflies in your stomach.  Somehow you knew he felt this way and you worried that if he knew the truth about how attraction worked for you, he wouldn’t want anything to do with you and you’d lose your dearest friend.

“Wolffe, I…” you thought about where to start, but it was clear his heart was sinking with worry that you didn’t think about him the same way.  You reached out and held his hand.  He slowly let his fingers close around yours as you continued.

“I don’t experience romantic attraction. I also don’t like sex. I have never wanted to have sex.  It’s not you.  I actually… I love you too… just maybe in a different way.”

He let a cautious smile spread across his face.  You were in it now and he hadn’t rejected you yet.  You might as well lay it all out.  As if he knew you needed another bit of strength, Wolffe squeezed your hand a little, reminding you that he was still there with you and wanted to hear what you had to say.

“I may not be attracted to people in those ways, but I definitely have feelings for you, Wolffe.  More so than Rex or Gregor or my other friends and certainly more than I did for my family.  But I understand if that’s not enough.  It’s never been enough for anyone else.”

He held your hand and reached out to caress your cheek with his thumb. “Is this okay,” he asked, pausing just before touching your face, and wanting to be near you but not wanting to overstep.  You nodded and smiled, somewhat surprised by his reaction to what you just said.

“It’s more than enough for me and it’s more than okay,” he said.  “And if you don’t believe me, let me show you.  Give me a chance to love you how you want to be loved.”

You leaned into the hand still holding your cheek.  You relaxed a little, trying to not let old worries bother you.  Right now, you felt understood and embraced for who you were.

It took a little time, but you both slowly had conversations about where the boundaries were.  You loved cuddling and Wolffe was all too happy to welcome you into his bunk. He swapped sheets and blankets with your old bunk so that you could be comfortable with what was familiar, but the temperature on the side of the ship with his bunk was more to your liking, so you moved your stuff over.  

The first night together started a little awkwardly, but you felt so safe when he put his arm around your waist and asked, “Is this okay?”  You assured him it was.  Wolffe was normally so sure of himself and confident in combat, but with you he was only confident when he was sure you were on the same page.  He wanted to get it right.

“Can I kiss your cheek,” he asked.  You nodded.  

“Do you like kisses, Wolffe?”

“Yes.”

You kissed his cheek in return and rested against him.  It felt so right.  You fell asleep together and got some of the best rest of your life.  Wolffe’s presence felt like a weighted blanket - not controlling or restricting, but calming.

A few mornings later he woke up before you and as soon as he realized his morning wood was against your leg, he pulled away.  You woke up from the sudden movement and asked what was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t want you to think I…”  He looked down and wasn’t sure what to do.

“It’s okay,” you said.  You rubbed your eyes and laid back down, unsure of what else to say.

“I never want to pressure you,” he said.  “I didn’t want you to think I was.”

“You haven’t.”  You smiled, picked up his hand, and kissed the back of it.  You got up to use the refresher and you both went about your day.  Later in the evening, you found some time together.  Wolffe sat next to you and held your hand. It was becoming one of your favorite things.  Gregor joked that you were attached at the hands instead of at the hips before he got up and walked toward the cockpit for his watch.  You loved that.  Wolffe’s hands were somehow hard and soft at the same time, like him. It felt grounding.

Once you were alone, you brought up his earlier reaction to his body functioning normally and promised him you didn’t mind.  You knew he couldn’t control what his body did while he slept.  At the same time, it felt like you should bring up the topic of intimacy.  You asked if he was really okay with being with you and not having sex.

He scoffed and replied, “My hand and a couple toys have always been enough for me.”

You laughed a little at his honesty, but loved it.  He leaned toward you and rested his forehead against yours.  “We’re close in other ways.”  

“Yes, we are,” you replied with a warm smile.

After a few minutes, Wolffe tentatively asked something that had been on his mind.

“You said before that having a relationship like this has never been enough,” he said slowly.  “What happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.”

You bit your lip and moved to lean on his shoulder, still holding his hand.  He gave it a little squeeze.  

“I was with couple other people at different times.  Tried the relationship thing. Someone would get to know me, wanted to date, romance, sex, the whole usual thing people normally do.  When I told them I’m not interested in that kind of love and didn’t feel like having sex with them, they would say they understood and it was fine, but eventually it wasn’t enough.  Especially the last person.  He really pressured me.  At that point, I cared about him and yeah, loved him in my own way, and I had sex with him to make him happy.  It didn’t feel right, though, and the relationship didn’t last.”

Wolffe’s breathing got heavier and you glanced up to see anger on his face.  You pulled away, unsure, and his expression immediately softened to one of care and protection.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, seeing your uncertainty.  “Far from it.  I’m sorry you felt like you had to do that.  It’s not right.”  He put an arm around you and pulled you close, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.  You let out breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“I want to make you happy,” you said.

“You do,” he answered with a broad smile and another kiss to your head.  “You make me so kriffing happy.  You’re enough as you are.”

You only became more inseparable as the years went on.  You came to depend on each other. If anyone asked he would say “we’re together” or “that’s my partner.”  You said the same of him.  He always made you feel special just as you were.  Each night you got into bed together and talked about your day.  You helped each other unwind simply by offering each other comfortable familiarity.  Some night you’d read a holonovel together and discovered you both liked science fiction.

You saw each other through some challenging times, too.  When you were in the Outer Rim and Wolffe’s cybernetic eye stopped working at the end of a mission, he was terrified he lost his sight for good.  You held his hand and ran him back to the ship, reminding him that his other eye was working and he would be okay.  As Gregor and Rex took off, looking for the nearest doctor who could help, you sat with him.  It was clear he was having flashbacks to the war and when he first lost his eye.

“I’m here,” you reminded him.  “I promise it will be okay.  You’re on our ship, Wolffe.  Rex and Gregor are here and we’re going to get you help.”

He looked like a terrified cadet, crying as you held him.  You walked him back to your shared bunk once you were in hyperspace, hoping the familiar sights, smells, and textures would help.

“Please don’t leave,” he asked through tears. 

“I never will.”

Everything turned out okay.  He needed an adjustment to his cybernetic, but was assured it should still last the rest of his lifetime and then some.  That night, you held him, letting him rest his face in the crook of your neck, while you rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.  “I don’t know why I broke down when I could see out of my good eye just fine.”

“It’s okay,” you replied.  “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve gone through a lot.  I love you just as you are.”

“And I love you too,” he said, “just as you are too.”

Tagging: @kixs-husband @staycalmandhugaclone

[nerdygirlramblings]

I have a vision

Like reader and John are married for god knows how long (probaly since he was just a Sergeant) so it's obvious that reader knows Ghost, or rather Simon since John is like a father to him.

So when John comes home after a rough mission, Simon is with him. Usually Simon would sleep on the couch or the guest room but this time it's different. He's on the edge of a breakdown and reader offers him to join them in bed for cuddles, John doesn't mind that.

It ends up with Simon bare and vulnerable and reader and John taking care of him

If you wanna include some smut it's your choice, you're the author

Also the gender of reader because Idc about that

Thank you for this ask! This one took a few different journeys in my head before we got here, but this is the version that felt right. I hope you enjoy the result!

an: I delved into asexuality here, but if I misportrayed the acespec experience, please lmk! This is a new space for me, and I want to get it right.

Simon's known you since before he made lieutenant. You've been Price's since forever. Simon likes you because his Captain loves you. Simon loves you because you support his and Price's relationship.

The first time it had happened, they'd been on base less than an hour, wrung out from the mission and staring down the barrel of after action reports. Price was sitting at his desk, paperwork splayed out and only half finished when Ghost had come in and nearly dropped from sheer exhaustion. He couldn't tell if the weariness was mental or physical or some combination of both, but Price served as a grounding force.

Price wasn't a mind reader but he was an expert in body language, and he'd taken one look at Ghost and known exactly what was wrong. He beckoned the younger man over. It took coaxing and a promise that things would be better to get Ghost to kneel at Price's feet and put his head in Price's lap. Price slid one hand off the paperwork he'd only been half-heartedly completing and ran it up under Ghost's mask, pulling the balaclava off. Thick fingers scrubbed through the sweaty hair and eventually began a light pet.

"You're safe here Simon. I've got you," he rumbled, voice gruff from the cigar on his desk. Simon's not sure how long they were there, Price's hand keeping him grounded while giving him the space to let go. It could have been seconds or days. All he knows is he had never felt as free as he did by the time Price roused him off his knees and shooed him back to his own paperwork.

After that, mission debriefs began including quiet time for Simon and his Captain where the older man would help the younger come back to himself. For someone as touched-starved as Simon had always been, Price's comfort was a blessing.

He doesn't remember what mission they'd come off of the night you found them, but he does recall the startled gasp you made when you walked in with dinner for your husband only to find him with another man in his lap. You'd only met the lieutenant once before. He couldn't, wouldn't, get between Price and you, but he didn't know how to find the strength to leave.

Thankfully, you kept an open mind. Let your husband explain that there was nothing sexual or even romantic to their relationship. Smiled at Simon as he stumbled through how it felt to not have to worry just for a little while. And, when all was said and done, opened your arms and beckoned Simon into them.

For years now your house has been Simon's safe place. He has his own bed in what you tell others is the guest room, but several years back you decorated it in Simon's favorite colors with little touches to help him feel grounded. The kitchen cupboard has his favorite tea, and the crisps he likes are always in the pantry. He has a key to the front door and knows he's always welcome no matter the time, so he thinks nothing of slipping in after midnight, finally back from a solo mission, his humanity hanging on by a thread.

Of course John hears the door the moment the lock rolls back on its tumblers, Simon's heavy tread carrying quietly in the still air. He tries to get out of bed without waking you, but you never sleep well when he's not there, so you notice immediately. Bleary eyes find his as he stands half in the doorway, says, "Simon's just got in. Going to go check on him."

You nod as John slips out of your room. He had given you what few details he could about Simon's mission while the other man was gone. You worried about him, how big a toll this would take on him. So moment after John leaves, you slowly climb out of bed, slip into your robe, quietly pad down the hall. You can hear your husband's low rumble and a sound that rocks you. Crying. You don't think it's John, the timbre's off, but despite hearing it, you struggle to believe Simon is crying.

You didn't believe there was anything that could ever make his lieutenant - the Ghost - cry.

You ease the door open, catching Simon so very human. Broken. Hunched over, head between his knees, hands clasped tight behind his neck. He's still in most of his gear. He must have come straight from transport. John rubs his hand up and down Simon's back, but the man barely reacts. He doesn't seem to realize John's there.

Both go suddenly still at the change in the air when you come into the room.

"Simon," you whisper. Like your husband, you want to comfort him. Unlike your husband, this isn't something you've offered before, not a comfort Simon's been allowed.

You kneel in front of him, gently reaching out for a boot. In the thin light from the window, deft fingers pick apart knots so the boots are easier to slip off. First one then the other thuds to the floor behind you. You run gentle hands up his chest, unclipping the tac vest. John pulls it off Simon's shoulders. Shirt and trousers follow, the two of you working seamlessly, silently to help Simon shed Ghost. When he's down to just his pants, you slip your fingers under the edge of his mask.

"Is this okay?" Your whisper feels like a shout in the darkness.

Simon grunts and dips his chin further into your palm. You take it as permission, pulling the knit up and off. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you run your thumb through the eye black. You can't say what possesses you to do it, but you lean forward and drop little kisses on Simon's eyelids.

When they flutter open, it's like seeing directly into Simon's soul. The brown cracked with pain and desperation. A fear too big to name.

You stand, reaching one hand down to John and the other to Simon. John comes willingly, no questions. Simon needs reassurance. "It's okay, Simon. You're safe here. We've got you," you tell him. You have no idea how much you sound like John did all those years ago. It's that echo alone that allows Simon to follow you back to the room you share with his Captain.

John understands your intent immediately, ushering first you then Simon into the bed. You slide into your usual space against the wall, holding the covers up as Simon stiffly joins you. He lays on his back, ramrod straight, as John sinks into the mattress on his other side. The hand next to Simon fumbles a moment, finding his, and interlacing your fingers together. Your other hand comes to rest on Simon's chest. You curl towards John and he towards you, one hand covering yours over Simon's heart. You breathe slowly, pressing the rhythm ever so slightly into Simon's lungs.

Tension is thick for a moment. Two. Three. By ten, Simon is breathing in time with you, shuddering as silent tears slip out. Lips brush his cheek as you whisper again, "We've got you."

You do. And he knows in his bones you always will.

main masterlist

[di-lucss]

I would love a little drabble or story abt ur last thought (Jason not being made for hookup culture). He’s not the guy that catches feelings from sleeping w someone but rather he needs feel something for someone before sleeping w them (or else he’ll feel like physically nauseous). Unfortunately he’s stuck fwbs!reader who is blissfully unaware of that b/c he (stupidly) agreed to whatever she said, hoping he could win her over (took advice from Dick, who also doesn’t have a successful love life, which seems a bit silly but hindsight 20/20).

ohhhhhh anon you lovely lovely person i have been WAITING for this request. since i’m not very good at writing fem!pov i hope you’re cool with vague second pov!! jason is so acespec coded i lobe him. i wrote this in like an hour and a half ummm this just shows you can do anything with a little inspiration and motivation.

cw: very mild suggestive content. yearning. so much yearning. non-graphic mentions of injuries. taking advice from richard john grayson.

word count: 0.6k.

tags: @dulcet-aurora @scrumptiouslylovingarcade ❪ feel free to dm me if you'd like to be added! ❫

thinking about fwb!jason todd.

fwb!jason todd who didn’t start sleeping with you just for the hell of it. you guys had been friends for a good long while; he’d crash at your apartment every now and then after patrols, you’d patch him up when he nearly bled out was grazed with a blade or a bullet or whatever.

fwb!jason todd whose feelings for you just kind of hit him one night out of nowhere when he was once again in need of your handy-dandy sewing skills—something you’d picked up in the months since he started barging through your living room window every few nights.

fwb!jason todd who didn’t even feel the needle piercing his skin as he stared at you. at the concentration in your eyes, the set of your brows, the way your tongue stuck out between your teeth just a touch as you did your best to keep the stitches on his side clean and even. you were always considerate like that; trying to make sure nothing scarred to badly, that he wasn’t in too much pain, that he

fwb!jason todd who didn’t even mean to kiss you when you looked up at him. it just kind of happened. it was clumsy and a little rushed, but it didn't feel like the rest. didn't feel wrong. didn't make him feel like his skin was crawling off his bones.

fwb!jason todd who's had hookups before, but none of them ever felt right. but when the two of you wound up tangled up under some throw blanket on your faded leather couch... he just couldn't explain it. it didn't feel like he was betraying himself. your body slotted against his like it was supposed to be there—smooth and right.

fwb!jason todd who woke up the next morning and you looked so peaceful sleeping on him, head on his chest, arms around his waist. he didn't feel repulsed, he felt a weird, uncommon sort of peace.

fwb!jason todd who wasn't really ready for the conversation that came after. the 'what is this now' talk. he'd never had to have that talk before, not with anyone else. all he knew was he didn't want to lose that feeling—whatever it really was—that he got from you.

fwb!jason todd who just nodded along to every word you said. 'i really liked last night.' so did he. 'i don't want it to make things awkward.' neither did he. 'i don't know that i'm in a place to have a relationship.' that one made his chest inexplicably tight. what were the two of you supposed to do then? go on like nothing happened? like it was just like any other night where you'd sew him up and he'd crash on the couch and be gone before dawn?

fwb!jason todd who nearly didn't catch the solution you gave; 'we could just... keep doing that. but like, as friends. if you want.' he didn't know that was really an option—not for him, with the complicated feelings that had apparently been building up inside him for this long. he could only say he'd think about it.

fwb!jason todd who left shortly after. he didn't stop thinking about it—couldn't, really. it was against his better judgement, but he went to the one person he knew more-than-likely had experience with these sorts of situations: dick. the guy had a colorful love life, he was the only one that made sense.

fwb!jason todd who only half-trusted dick's insight: being friends-with-benefits almost always ends with you guys dating. it wasn't what he wanted, not really. he liked the sex, he really did, but that wasn't the only thing he was hoping for. but if it was what he had to do to have even a small part of you, maybe he could hold out until you were ready.

fwb!jason todd who left dick's with not so much hope as determination. he could wait for you. as long as he needed to.

© di-lucss | all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[aegomonsterfucker]

As an Aegosexual, the way I know I'm into a character isn't if I would fuck them (I wouldn't), but if I would read a smutty fanfic about them.

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: Angel Learns a Lesson

[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

[captainheartcollector]

Doubts

Alastor x Reader

A/N: Hello, everyone! Here is my first (and probably only since I’m not really a writer) attempt at an Alastor x Reader. I don’t know why, but I got inspired to write a scenario involving the day after having relations with Alastor the very first time. It doesn’t go into detail. Being on the ace spectrum myself, maybe this was just my way of coping with things. This was very self-indulgent. Story is all from Reader’s POV, whom I kept gender neutral. I’m sorry if Alastor is super ooc. I don’t have any clue on how to capture his personality. But I hope that you can enjoy the story nonetheless!

CW: suggestive themes, excessive use of pet names

Word Count: 1,144

Last night was the first time Alastor and you made love. Why he decided to be so generous, you couldn’t say. But you weren’t going to complain. When you awoke the following morning, you awoke to an empty bed. His spot beside you was cold. He had undoubtedly been up hours before you were. Realization set in. Did last night really happen? Was it a dream? No. The evidence riddled all over your aching body proved it. You eventually found the strength to sit up. Was he upset with you? Did he regret his decision to go all the way? Is that the reason he didn’t stay? You hadn’t pressured him, but you were the one who really wanted it after all.

Brushing those dangerous trepidations aside, you washed up and got ready for the day as usual. It was your day off, so you took things easy. However, you couldn’t help but notice that Alastor was nowhere to be seen within the hotel. Was he avoiding you? Surely, he was out on business, attending to his duties as an Overlord or brainstorming ideas for his next radio broadcast. Maybe he was just taking one of his daily strolls, chatting with Miss Rosie. Would he tell her?

Sure, Alastor was a schemer, but at this point, it felt far too late to start doubting him now. So, you tried your best to push those feelings away and keep yourself preoccupied, aiding as much as you could with the daily tasks around the hotel.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was hours before he finally returned. You glanced at the clock—it was nearly midnight. He sauntered through the front doors like all was right with the world. Once he detected your presence, he ambled across the lobby over to you smoothly. “Good evening, (y/n),” he chirped melodically with a flourish and a gleam in his eye. “I trust that you’ve caught up on your beauty sleep?” He sounded as pleasant as ever. So, you were clearly on speaking terms. Maybe that meant he wasn’t angry, or…

Despite your reservations, you couldn’t contain the eager smile creeping its way onto your face as you admired him. “Sure did,” you answered casually. “How was your outing today?”

“Frightfully illuminating, I must say. Thanks for asking!”

He acted like he was in a good mood. Therefore, you weren't going to sour it by prying further on the matter—especially when you could discern that he didn’t want you to. However, you needed to know the answers to the questions plaguing your mind. “Alastor,” you murmured, “do you think that we could talk…privately?” The last word was a whisper.

“Certainly, sweetheart.” That was easy. “Meet me in the library in ten.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

And that’s where the two of you were now—in a secluded, quiet corner of the library. You made sure no one else was around beforehand. Though why would there be at this hour. He sat next to you on the plush camelback sofa. You stared down at your hands which were fidgeting in your lap nervously as you spoke. “Alastor…you’re not upset with me, are you?”

He studied you silently for a moment before responding. You could never tell what was running through that demented head of his. Suddenly, he chimed, “Not at all, dearest. What reason would there be for that?”

Did he really not get it? Was he just pretending to be oblivious? Or was he truly unbothered by what happened?

“You know…Last night. You’re not mad?”

You felt his slender, clawed fingers cup your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. His smile was genuine and warm.

“Of course not, darling. It was consensual, was it not?”

“Yes, but I would never want you to do those things if they make you uncomfortable…or, if you just plain don’t want to.”

“I did want to. I wanted to because I knew you wanted to.”

What? That was so uncharacteristically thoughtful to hear him say. His thumb caressed your cheek in reassurance while his lidded gaze never faltered. It felt as though he was completely unperturbed.

“Wow…That’s so sweet of you, Alastor.” So sweet, you almost didn’t know how to process it. “But,” you interjected, “I want you to be able to enjoy it, too. Otherwise, I can’t—”

One of his fingers grazed over your lips, effectively shushing you.

He let out a low hum as if in brief contemplation before continuing. “I did enjoy it… More than I thought possible,” he admitted, seemingly in spite of himself.

You couldn’t fight back the hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “So…you don’t regret it?”

“Au contraire,” he beamed as he leaned in closer, mischief glinting in those gorgeous crimson eyes of his. “One could easily grow accustomed to seeing all those pretty faces you make while chanting my name more often.”

Immediately, an intense heat began to scald your cheeks as you hid your face in embarrassment, swatting him away playfully. “Don’t tease me!”

He chuckled heartily at your expense. “No sense in acting shy now, darling!”

“Ah, Alastor, stooop!”

His laughter continued briefly before he wiped a gleeful tear from his eye and conceded, “Very well.”

As soon as the silly little incident died down, you mustered the confidence to behold his eyes once more. He appeared absolutely pleased with himself. And yet again, you couldn’t help but return his contagious, everlasting smile. He was so beautiful—beyond just his face or form. You knew he was a menace, but there were beautiful aspects to his personality, too. Well, when he wanted there to be. Being able to make you smile—sincerely smile—was just one of them.

“Y’know,” you said finally, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “I’m glad.”

Alastor’s toothy grin somehow grew even wider as he leaned down close to you like he had before. His hand crept along the back of your neck affectionately as he placed a tender kiss gently upon your forehead. Even after he carefully pulled away, his deft fingers continued to brush lightly through your hair and along your scalp. You could have melted right there and then.

“That’s wonderful news, (y/n.) Let’s try and keep it that way, shall we?”

You nodded in agreement as you happily slid into his arms, wrapping your own around his lithe frame, never taking for granted how freely and frequently he allowed you to touch him during these soft and confidential moments. “I love you,” you sighed contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

However, it was his unexpected reply that left you feeling giddy for the rest of the night.

“I know, my dear. I am…quite fond of you, too.”

And that was enough for you.

[drmaddict]

Demi-what?

Summary: Aegon's girlfriend is everything he ever could have wished for. Only somehow he had the feeling, that she wasn't really looking for sex with him. He came to terms with it, but then he finds a little book in her bedside cabinet that... doesn't really help either. (modern!Au / demisexual!reader)

Wordcount: 1.495

He didn't want to get to know her at first. After all, his mum had introduced him to her. The perfect PR-girlfriend. But then he actually got to know her.

Aegon liked his girlfriend. Loved her even. She was sweet. She listened to him. Never mocked him. Praised him. Sometimes he had to ignore the fact, that she was just flattering him because he needed it. She laughed at his humour. Even if he would never have expected it at first, given her delicate nature, she was the perfect partner to gossip about unloved people. She didn't reprimand him when he drank too much and came home drunk as a skunk, even if it was now extremely rare.

Only the sex... It was good. She seemed to enjoy it... But she hardly ever initiates it herself. At most, when she could blame it on hormones. It gnawed at him, even if he didn't want to admit it.

She lightly bumped her champagne glass against his. "I suppose they want to torture little Tully every year a little more with his haircut, don't they?" she smirked.

Aegon looked at the scowling teenager, who was tousling his bowl-cut curly hair. "He'll just shave it off one day. I can see it.", he nodded in agreement.

"It probably wouldn't look bad on him at all."

Her eyes looked happily into his. He felt the now familiar warmth settle around his heart. He smiled. Fuck sex. And yes, that thought really did come from him.

"What do you think? How much longer do we have to stay here?", she asked boredly, toasting someone at the other end of the room with a sugar-sweet smile.

Aegon grinned. "I'll fake a migraine right now."

"Like you did last time?"

"I was very convincing."

"Mhm." She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

He nudged her.

Less than half an hour later, they managed to leave the building inconspicuously and catch a taxi home. He was already sitting on the bed, clad only in jogging pants, scrolling through TikTok while she was still rubbing various serums, creams and lotions onto her skin.

"Argh... Aegon?" she called from the bathroom.

"Yes?"

"Can you bring me my glasses? I left them in the bedside cabinet."

"Sure."

He rolled over the bed and reached for the drawer on the cabinet. He pulled it open and took out her glasses, which she usually swapped for contact lenses. As he lifted the case, a book lying underneath caught his eye.

'All about Demissexuality'

His eyebrows furrowed, he picked it up.

"Have you found them?"

He immediately put the book down and brought (Y/n) her glasses.

"Here." he smiled.

"Thank you." She kissed him quickly on the cheek, then went on to complete her evening routine.

In bed, though, he immediately looked up this new term. He was bi himself. He should have heard of it before, shouldn't he?

The first definition only confused him more. Was it... well, wasn't it the same for most people? Whereby. He had never had any problems with wanting to sleep with anyone. Well, he had his limits too, but apart from that. He was just a whore. He wore the lable with pride.

She lay down next to him. "Everything all right?", she asked.

He held his display at a slight angle. He didn't want her to think, he was snooping through her things.

"Everything's great.", he smiled.

She smiled. "Sleep tight." She kissed him on the nose. "You know blue light before bed-"

"Yes, mum.", he groaned, feigning annoyance, and threw himself theatrically on top of her. She laughed.

Not even close to forgetting the book, a few weeks later he was lying on a lounger on a beach in Essos, letting the sun warm his pale skin while (Y/n) tirelessly threw a piece of pool noodle into the sea for Sunfyre, which the golden retriever happily brought back every time.

Demisexual. He still couldn't really grasp it. But it seemed to him that she had been taking the initiative more often recently, even regularly. But maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe she just wanted to do him a favour.

He sipped his drink as she came to him and lay down on the lounger next to him. "How can one creature have so much energy?", she laughed, watching Sunfyre playfully chase a seagull.

Aegon grinned and watched his dog work more and more sand into his fur. "Oh. The bath later will be great.", he grinned sarcastically.

She grinned. "Good luck."

He nudged her shoulder. She laughed. He looked at her tanned skin, which was already showing a slight reddish tinge. He sighed.

"Can I ask you something?", he started, before he could stop his mouth.

She looked up. Froze at his serious face. "Always.", she smiled anyway.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I... I saw a book in your... after the party at the Tully's. In your bedside cabinet.", he began hesitantly. "I wasn't snooping. I just wanted to get you your glasses."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. I believe you.", she said immediately.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Was it too much?", she asked hesitantly.

He looked up in surprise. "What was too much?"

He watched as her sun-reddened cheeks turned even redder. "Well... The new sexdrive and my admittedly very sub-par attempts at seduction."

He faltered. "So... so... You wanted... You... you didn't just do it for my sake... You really wanted... me?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Yes?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were pushing yourself into something... But... Okay. I... well... I'll be honest... I still don't really understand the whole concept. Are you straight now? Asexual? What? What is demi?"

She looked sheepishly at the sea. "What don't you understand?", she then asked directly.

He sat up. Collected his thoughts. "Okay. So. This whole you need an emotional connection for sex thing... Isn't that... Well what most women do, after all?"

She nodded understandingly. "I thought that for ages too, but... It's not about the sex itself. A lot of asexual people have sex, just... well, for different reasons really. Some because they want to make their partner happy, others just have a high libido. It's... It's not about the sex itself. It's the attraction. Someone can be heterosexual or homosexual or bisexual. But how often they want to have sex depends on their libido, regardless of their sexuality."

He nodded. "I still don't get it."

She smiled. "Okay... so... I, for myself, like sex. Although... Well, let's put it this way. For a very long time I thought I was completely asexual and sex-neutral, because I just didn't like sex, until I realised that none of my ex-boyfriends knew ANYTHING."

Aegon laughed slightly.

"But then I met someone who showed me that it can be really good, too.", she nodded.

"Uhhh. Who was he?"

"Oh, she was gorgeous.", she grinned.

Aegon grinned open-mouthed at her. "I'm not into women.", she added. "Even though I thought about it afterwards, whether there is such a thing as homosexual but heteroromantic people, but that's not the point.", she waved it off. "I read more and more into the subject and at some point, I found demisexual. Because I somehow knew, that just asexual didn't really fit either. But demi did fit." She flicked a fly off her arm. "I'm asexual in that way. I'm not directly attracted to anyone. You can put the most beautiful man in the world in front of me, who makes everyone melt and I just don't feel anything. That doesn't mean that I can't enjoy sex, it's just that I'm into sex and not directly into this person. Do you understand what I mean?"

He nodded. "I think, I do."

She smiled. "Well, but... Since I got closer to you and now know, that sex with men can also be really good.", she winked at him.

He grinned stupidly and felt no urge to suppress it.

"- Well, it started slowly. And lately... I guess I understand, what people mean when they say a person can be hot..."

Aegon smiled. "So you fancy me?"

She smiled. "Yes, Aegon. I fancy you."

He grinned. "I made you sexual. Aegon-sexual."

She gave a boisterous snort. "Yes. You did it." She punched him lightly in the upper arm.

"Yes!", he grinned and punched the air winningly.

"You are such a man-child.", she laughed.

"A man-child, that makes you hot.", he laughed and rubbed his chest exaggeratedly.

She shook her head with a grin, but let him have his moment. "But it really wasn't too much?"

He grinned. "Believe me, darling, there's still a lot of room for improvement."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Woof!" "Eyeyey!"

They both turned to Sunfyre, who was now being chased by the seagull himself, who had finally had enough. They laughed.

"I love you.", Aegon murmured.

She smiled. "I love you."

[keyanhasbeendefeated]

We all know a fanfic where the callsign is "Ace" cuz they're too good. BUT. Imagine the reason for the callsign is that they had their bf/gf visit base, and everyone asked them about the bf/gf. But they just say "I'm asexual, if they're okay then go for it. But they like me, just so you know" and everyone calls them "ace" ever since.

[tac-the-unseen]

Real footage of me pushing past the horny people to find one fluffy post

I'm fighting for my life over here.

[the-neil-jos10]

Okay, people are so allowed to ship who they want to ship, but there’s something so special to me as an ace-spec person to see Neil only in love with Andrew. Like, I’ve never liked more than one person at a time, and sure, you can ship Neil with Kevin or Jean or whatever, but I will forever ship just Andriel because, like Neil, I never thought I needed a person, and when I did find that one person, it felt so special.

[oleanderflower]

Alien Writing Prompt-

alien romance but with an acespec! human who just wants casual touches and is just happy for company while the alien is from a species that has evolved past the need to have relations for procreating! they get together and are in love and stuff

[redvexillum]

Educate yourself with this post: Why Smut with Ace Characters?

Also, the next ask about me being acephobia will be ignored. I follow the policy of addressing one unique ask at a time. Anonnie - I did you a favour and blocked/reported you. Perhaps you should block me on your main account, so you don't have to see my stories.

[drowsy-opposums]

My thoughts on Alastor’s sexuality (aroace)

Starting off aroace people fall under the asexual and aromantic spectrum. And with these there’s different types of ace and aro people. Ranging from demisexual and demiromantic- where they only feel romantic or sexual feelings after forming a strong bond with someone to graysexual and grayromantic- where others might experience sexual and romantic attraction once in a while but largely don’t.

My personal belief is that Alastor is asexual and demiromantic and allow me to go into further detail about my opinion.

It’s evident through Angel Dust and Alastors interactions that Alastor is repulsed by Angels sexual comments and it’s more than likely that Alastor has no intent with anything sexual.

But I don’t believe that he can’t experience or have any romantic feelings if he knows them well or has a strong bond with them. Like with the characters Rosie, Mimzy, and Niffty. During early development Mimzy was supposed to be romantically involved with Alastor.

Which from my point of view makes sense for him to be demiromantic as he’s known Mimzy for a long time- both of them knowing each other when they were alive. And although she isn’t a love interest anymore I think it’s safe to assume if he did feel attraction on a romantic level for someone he’d have to have a strong bond with them first.

Please note it is completely valid to assume he has no romantic or sexual interest with anyone else of the sorts but do not get mad with others if they think otherwise- especially if they aren’t taking away from his sexuality.

Also, Vivziepop stated a while back that it’s okay to ship characters with him as long as they respect his sexuality. Which, if he couldn’t experience romantic feelings than she wouldn’t have said this in the first place.

That’s just my thinking, though.

[dianneking]

On The Seashore (Brienne x Reader)

Hi all! For my weekly fic challenge, @scream-queenlover suggested this prompt (#2584) @promptsforthestrugglingauthor :

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay home?" "I'm sorry…did you just fucking propose?”

You and Brienne have been adventuring together for years, and while you enjoy the friendship and camaraderie that the two of you share, you can't help but wish for more, maybe…but is it in the cards?

Tags: Brienne x Reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Brienne is an adventurer, Aroace spectrum, Brienne is on the aroace spectrum,  Friendly Banter, Dialogue-Heavy, Queerplatonic Vibes, Second Person POV, Reader is a woman.

I am not sure how it turned into a queerplatonic fic with a Brienne on the aro/ace spectrum but hey, happy belated aro/ace week. Link to AO3 in the title below:

On The Seashore

“I swear, if I have to shake sand from my boots one more time, I'll snap.” You grumbled, pulling once again your weathered traveling boots on your feet. 

“Might I remind you that getting this close to the coastline was your idea, milady?” 

“Brienne, it's been three years we're on the road together, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me by my name?” 

You could see her lips slightly tilting upwards and you knew her dry wit was about to come out to play once more.

“One more time, milady.”

You snorted. “One more time, my ass. I haven't been a lady since we took to the road. Just a common adventurer, that's all.”

“There's absolutely nothing common about you, milady, and if anyone dares to even imply anything of the sort, I'd be ready to duel them.” 

“Yeah we've learned that in Sandstone with that one guy who was a little bit too friendly…”

“He grabbed your arm!” 

“I know but we were trying to keep a low profile and you beating him up didn't really…”

“He insulted your honor! And mine too!”

You sighed. “Yes I know. Let's try not to beat anyone up in this village though. I'd like to lay low for a while.” 

“Well we still have half a day of walking in front of us before we get there, that is, if Your Grace doesn't keep stopping every ten minutes to shake sand off your precious feet.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting the whole beach in my boots.” 

The two of you kept going towards the village, bickering as you had become accustomed to over the time spent together. 

“This must be heaven!” You kicked your feet up, forgetting your previous adversity for the sand, your boots next to your wicker seat in the cool shade of the palm trees. 

“You have pretty low standards for the afterlife, milady, if all you require is a seat in the shade.” 

“Brienne! Was your mission successful?” 

You looked up at her silhouette, the sun behind her transforming her short hair in a golden halo. She looked even more like a goddess than usual.

“I have drinks and I have work opportunities so yes, I'd say my mission was indeed successful. And no duels yet, so you can rest easily.”

She handed you a tankard, keeping the second one in her hand. 

You lost no time chugging down the first half in a long sip.

“Ahhhhhh now that's something that was sorely missing in my heaven. A drink! I could kiss you right now, Brienne!”

She did not reply, taking a sip of her own tankard, but as she sat down in the wicker chair next to your own, you noticed her ears were slightly pinker. How had she managed to get sunburned in such a short time? Oh well, she was very fair-skinned so it probably took very little. That might be why she always had her hood or her helmet on most days. But the Dornian heat and the quiet reputation of this village had convinced even the uptight Brienne of Tarth to lighten her kit. 

“So you were talking about work?” 

She swallowed her drink and replied, her voice uncharacteristically flustered:

“Yes. Hmm, well, they're looking for night guards for their granary. They've had quite the bountiful harvest and they want to keep it safe until the village fair.”

“Are there actual threats to the granary?” 

“Not really. Seems to be mostly a precaution.”

“So a cushy gig. How's the pay?” 

“Not great, but they'd let us stay here at this cottage on the beach for free and add one golden coin each per week.”

“Sunshine, the seaside, free lodging and decent pay? Sign me up for life!”

“What about your beloved adventures? What about being a free spirit and roaming the world?”

"I'm tired of adventures. How about we just get married and stay here?"

The silence that followed alerted you that something was wrong. You turned to your companion.

“Brienne?”

She was looking at you as if you had sprouted a second head. 

"I'm sorry...did you just fucking propose?”

Woah. Brienne of Tarth, swearing? That was almost unheard of from your very proper companion, and only in very serious situations. 

Not that you’d mind. Marrying her, that is. Quite the contrary. The past three years had easily been the happiest of your life, and you knew it had to do with her. Her constant presence by your side, her dry humor, her unwavering support and loyalty…she had become a column you hadn’t even realized how much you were leaning against until you took a step back and allowed yourself to admire her. And she was beautiful. Gods, was she beautiful. 

You set your tankard down beside your chair, and turned to her, lifting your chin, fixing your eyes in hers with equal parts trepidation and boldness. 

“What if I did?” 

“This is not a subject for jesting, milady!”

“Who said I was jesting? And for all the Gods, stop calling me milady like I am some sort of court princess.”

“But you cannot...We wouldn’t…We’re two women!” 

“Believe me, I noticed.” You smirked up at her, letting your eyes roam her tall figure, allowing her to see the appreciation in your eyes. She spluttered, her face turning a bright red that had no correlation with her previous sun exposure. (Had her reddened ears from before also been…oh. Well. Who’d have known. You might even have a chance then.)

“Milady! I…That’s not appropriate! The law doesn’t-”

“Brienne. For once, this is not about the law, religion, traditions, nor customs.” You stood up, and placed your hands on the armrests of her seat, boxing her in. Tall as she was, her head was level with yours. You had never been so close to her. You could see beads of perspiration crowning her forehead, you could drown in the blueness of her eyes, wide open in shock, both at your boldness and at your closeness.

She hadn’t pushed you away though. That had to count for something.

“Brienne?”

“Y-yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hesitant and softer than you’d ever heard before. This was not Brienne the warrior speaking. She was Brienne the woman. 

The woman you’d fallen for. 

“I am going to tell you something. You just say the word, and we won’t have to talk about this again. We’ll go back to our adventuring as it was before and nothing will have changed. But I don’t want you to think this is some sort of joke. I am serious.”

She nodded, and you could see her lower lip quivering slightly, and her eyes widening even more. 

“There’s nobody else in the whole world I would like to spend the rest of my life with. Nobody else I would gladly take an arrow for, nobody else I want to guard my back as I guard theirs. If there’s anything that the past three years have taught me is that my days of lonely wandering are done, as long as I can have you by my side. Would…would you consider becoming more than just traveling companions?”

She bit her lip, and let her gaze drop to her knees, as if unable to look you in the eyes anymore.

Oh. 

The silence stretched for what felt like ages. The usually pleasant sounds of waves crashing against the seashore and seagulls crying out to each other felt like a dissonant song to your ears, when all you wanted to hear was her voice.

But you guessed her silence was telling you all there was to know. 

“Very well.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you straightened up, hands detaching from the wicker armrests, setting your companion free once again. “I’ll just… go check the water’s temperature. Be back in a bit.” 

You almost scoffed at yourself. Sure. Check the water temperature. Like you gave a damn about the ocean right now. It could all dry up for all you cared. 

You resisted the urge to kick at the sand in anger and frustration though. Mainly because you knew Brienne could be watching you, and you wanted to keep what little decorum you could. How could you be so stupid? To think that she might return your feelings, that you might have a chance with her. Ha. Clearly the blazing sun of Dorne had burnt off your common sense. 

You let the cool seawater lap at your bare feet, forcing yourself to look at the horizon and take a deep breath of salty breeze. 

It was okay. You’d gone through heartbreak before. You’d move on. 

Another deep intake of breath.

You would not allow those tears that you felt prickling at your eyelids to fall. You were a grown woman. An adventurer. Not a silly girl with a crush. 

A third breath. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds of seagulls, trying to shove all the feelings back in the little blackened and beaten container you called heart. 

“Nobody has ever told me that.”

“HOLY SH- Brienne, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You twirled towards her, a hand on your chest as you tried to get your breathing back in control. How a woman of her size had managed to sneak behind you without you noticing was a testament both to her athleticism and to how out of it you were.

She pinned you with her gaze, hard and unflinching. The soft, blushing Brienne was gone. This was Brienne the warrior, once again. You realized you had fallen for her, too. 

“Nobody has ever…wanted me.” She said that as if it was part question, part accusation. You didn’t know what to make of it. You shrugged.

“Well, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks and with no functioning eyes.”

She snorted. An inelegant sound that you found as endearing as the rest of her. 

“Seriously, Brienne. You probably have a lot of people that admire you from afar. I’m just the one with the least amount of self-preservation instincts of them all.”

“You seem to have been doing pretty well so far.”

“Well, if you don’t smite me for daring to punch above my weight, I should live to see another day!” You smiled up at her, cheekily, trying to lighten up the mood. You weren’t going to give up on the friendship and camaraderie you two had built together just because your advances had been turned down. A fool, you might be, but not an utter imbecile. 

You could see her lips pull up at the corners in a tiny but unmistakable smile at your antics.

“There it is! The smile of mercy! I shall live somewhat longer! Yay!”

She shook her head and gave you a small shove, almost throwing you completely off-balance. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ll take impossible as a title over milady anytime, so yep, that’s who I am! Also, please don’t throw me into the ocean, I can’t swim.”

“You can’t?”

“Nope! I’m a land rat, not a sea rat. Can you?”

“Of course! Everyone on Tarth learns how to.”

“Well, you’ll have to teach me at some point, but throwing me in is not how I’d like to go about it, thank you very much.”

Her hand landed on your shoulder, gripping it strongly, and you looked up to see that the smile had gone, and her expression was now closed off, and serious. 

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.” She ground out, as if it was physically difficult for her to even say it. 

“To teaching me how to swim?”

“No, to a… relationship. I…I like to spend time with you.” She looked like she was telling the truth but also like she was extremely uncomfortable doing so. You felt your heart break again, this time for her.

“As do I, but we can still have that. This is not an ultimatum, Brienne, I would never put you in that position.” Just the thought she would be willing to start a relationship she clearly wasn’t keen on not to lose your company was…both horrifying and heartwarming, to be honest. 

“It’s not that. I…I am not good with…romance. It doesn’t come as easy to me as it seems to be for other people. I don’t know how to go about it.”

You put your own hand on top of hers, on your shoulder, trying to find the right words.

“Hey. There is no right or wrong way. And there is no hurry. We can give it a try and see where it goes. If not, we’ll just be good friends that adventure together, alright?”

She seemed to ponder this, her eyes on your hand covering her own. You gave her the time to do so. 

“I would like that.”

You smiled tenderly up at her. This was so hard for her, always used to be the paradigm of perfection, of valor, of morals. The fact that she was able to challenge herself enough to go out on a limb with a relationship for you, of all people, made your heart skip a beat in your chest. 

“We will take things as slowly as you’d like, and you feel free to tell me at any time if you’re uncomfortable, okay?”

You could see the tension leave her eyes, and her face opened up in a hopeful smile. 

“You’d do that…for me?”

“But of course! We have all the time in the world, milady!” You smirked, throwing the title back at her and seeing her resigned grimace at the nickname.

“No more miladys, alright?” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years! Now. That drink is getting warm and that’s not something we can allow. Shall we?”

You gallantly offered her your hand to hold in a very bad imitation of a nobleman asking a woman at court to dance.  She shook her head, but accepted your hand, and you both turned your back to the sun, looking at your conjoined shadows on the sand in front of you with a look of incredulous joy on both of your faces. 

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[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike pt 1

[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.

—————

Part 2