#alastor reader

[get-a-glass-of-water-nerd]

Reader who is absolutely livid about Alastor letting himself get kidnapped by Vox and not telling them first. Reader who is his equal match when it comes to pettiness. Alastor comes back to the hotel to find reader has gotten themselves a little something while he was off doing his big boy plan.

Reader: I thought I'd get myself a little companion while you were gone.

Alastor: *just staring at the weird fly Chihuahua his partner is carrying *

Reader: Originally, i was going to get an actual dog, but surprisingly, they are hard to find here. And i dont know how I feel about owning a sentient hellhound

Alastor: *just keeps staring at it. It's wearing a little sweater.* Darling, we never discussed this.

Reader: Yknow since we're all JUST making major life changes without discussing it with each other, right?

Alastor: *oh no, its a HANDMADE sweater* Darling?

Reader: And if anything happens to her. I will send myself and everyone here to double hell.

I just love these dumb fly dogs

[stephy-sketches]

Some Valentines Day cards for y’all

Perhaps I’ll print them for my shop

[alastortheradiodemonoffical]

Alastor, how come Husk has only water at the bar for me and Alice? He should totally have apple juice! And don't you, like, know each other or something? He won't talk to me. Mostly cause I'm not allowed near the bar, and that's where he is most often, but.. y'know.. Or– wait, are the drinks in Hell like poison for humans, with the exception of water? ...Either way, justice is needed! For.. apple juice. And possibly some OJ.

-🌈

Dearest 🌈, I will be sure to bring up the lack of juice at the bar with Husker. We always have some in the fridge if you’re thirsty.

[get-a-glass-of-water-nerd]

When you had mentioned going shopping with Angel Dust, Alastor was ready to say no. He barely tolerated your friendship with the effeminate man at all only because it would hurt you to lose such a dear friend. However, due to one of Cheri's bombs going awol and blowing up most of your wardrobe, you were in kind of dire need.

Alastor had offered to 'poof' you up a whole new closet, but you had rejected the idea. Your style was too modern, and were afraid of giving the 1930s man that much power over what you wore. Besides, your relationship was still new, and the idea of him getting you any major gifts still made you uneasy. Relationships are made of compromises, so you allowed him to get you ONE new outfit. With the added condition of your shopping trip with Angel.

Now Alastor unfortunately finds himself thanking the spider after seeing some of your new clothes himself. . .

AN: might expand on this. For now I'm going to bed. ..

[get-a-glass-of-water-nerd]

Alastor doesn't feel the rush that a well executed plan normally gave.

He feels too much.

He feels too little.

Vulnerable. Raw. Gritty.

Lord, he feels his age. Reminders of his mortality aside, Alastor is exhausted. Another seven years could be spent sleeping, and it still wouldn't be enough. Form disolves into nothingness. Silently, shadows enclose around him and ferry him across to his room.

The others in the parlor share a look of concern, but really, what could any of them say? Who would be willing to risk their own hide to try and show any empathy towards one who held himself in such high regard? If not careful, his ruined pride could easily turn deadly. Only an idiot would risk it.

Well, you were never the brightest bulb in the vanity mirror

[get-a-glass-of-water-nerd]

"If I could simply just rip out my own heart and place into your care, it would make more sense to me than what I currently feel for you."

Alastor had opened up to me in a rare moment of vulnerability. Up in his room, away from the noise and prying cameras, the sound of crickets created an atmosphere of comfort. We both sat on his bed,pinkies intertwined, soaking in the quiet beauty of bayou he had somehow replicated.

[stephy-sketches]

I missed Valentine’s Day

Some yumeship art

[get-a-glass-of-water-nerd]

Alastor with a small reader that he manhandles around.

In front of strangers, he is the picture of propriety. Your hand tenderly tucked into the crook of his. But back at the hotel, he goes to town.

He's picking you up under the armpits like a cat. He's carrying you around like a suitcase. He sits you on his lap like you're some ventriloquist dummy.

And the worst part of it all?

Is that reader loves it! Just their bones go squishy the second he touches them.