#Ace & Reader

[sanguineterrain]

hii this is my first time requesting sth so i hope its okay. what about spencer dating a reader who is asexual or takes a long time to be comfortable with intimacy but people are always asking if he’s getting any and reader feels like she isn’t enough

if not that’s totally fine thank u anyways

(this isn’t self indulgent wdym)

Thanks for requesting lovely. you are definitely not alone in feeling this way 🩷

fem!reader. you feel insecure after derek makes a harmless joke about how often you and spencer meet for lunch

****

Spencer forgets to eat lunch.

It's just a fact. He doesn't always forget, but he forgets enough for you to meet him for lunch when you can or shoot him a reminder text.

Today, you have a day off, so you decide to visit. Spencer tells you he'll meet you at the entrance so you don't have to go through security and get a visitor's badge. You think it's a little ridiculous that you have to do that every time, but according to Spencer, it doesn't take much time at all for people to become a danger to others and themselves.

Not that I think you would do that! he's always quick to add. You adore him.

He gets off the elevator with Agent Morgan. You watch as they approach and Morgan sees you, then claps Spencer's shoulder.

"Oh, so this is where you disappear to for lunch," he says, wrinkling Spencer's shirt. You can tell Spencer notices right away and is mildly annoyed. He shrugs his friend off.

"What're you talking about?" Spencer asks, pursing his lips.

Agent Morgan grins. "How many lunches out do you need, Reid? Seems like you're always forgetting food. 'S not like you."

Spencer looks at him, brows furrowed. "I need one a day, according to the general medical opinion. And my lunch breaks aren't that long."

You suddenly feel queasy.

"Uh-huh." Agent Morgan just grins that sly grin. "Don't be too long. Have fun, you kids."

You walk out. Agent Morgan goes the opposite direction of where you parked your car. Spencer's warm hand squeezes your arm affectionately.

"Hi," he says. "I actually brought lunch today, I just wanted to eat with you, so I lied and told everyone that I don't have lunch so we can be alone."

"Sweet of you." You voice is thin.

"Are you okay?"

You try to keep walking, but hello! Behavior analyst boyfriend alert. Spencer gently tugs you to stop and face him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, forehead crinkled in concern. "Your voice has a tremor."

"Did you tell Agent Morgan that we have sex during your lunch breaks?" you ask, folding your arms.

"What? No, I don't—no!"

"Because I know I've been making you wait, Spencer, and I know I keep saying I'll be ready at some point, but it's really shitty if you're telling people that I stop by just to give you head in your car or something."

Spencer's mouth opens and closes a couple of times in genuine, horrified shock, like when he'd found you hunched over the toilet in pain months ago during a bad stomach flu, and you realize then that you're way off the mark.

How could you think that? Of course Spencer wouldn't do that to you.

"Spencer, I'm—"

"I would never say or imply that. I don't even—I'm not mad or resentful of the fact that we haven't had sex, okay? I wouldn't care if you never wanted to have sex. I don't date you because I'm hoping to 'hit it and quit it.'"

You both cringe at his choice of words. Spencer sighs. "Okay, never using that phrase again. But it's true. I'm not waiting you out, and I'm definitely not talking about us having or not having sex to anyone at work." He shudders. "My living nightmare."

"I'm sorry. You're right, you wouldn't say that. I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't tell people even if we were having sex."

Spencer shakes his head emphatically. "Of course not."

Of course not.

"Then why did Agent Morgan imply that we were leaving to do it on your lunch break?" you ask unhappily.

"He was implying that we were sneaking off to have sex?" Spencer asks. "Are you sure?"

You frown. "Yeah, Spencer. He was teasing you about taking long lunches and always going out with me because..."

He nods in understanding. "Oh. That's... weird. Okay. I'll tell him not to say that stuff. I'll say that it bothers me."

You rub your arms self-consciously and turn your body away from Spencer. "It's not that weird for him to think, though. I do stop by a lot. And you're a young guy. Other guys your age probably visit their girlfriends during lunch and do that."

Spencer raises his eyebrows. "That seems excessive. And risky. And highly unsanitary. And uncomfortable. And—"

"Okay." You laugh a little. "I get it, Spencer. You're not like other guys."

"Story of my life."

"I guess I'm not really like other girls either," you say. "Having sex on your lunch break is probably more normal than dating for six months and never having sex."

Spencer frowns. "There's no such thing as normal. There's socially accepted behavior and opinion and laws and a bunch of made up crap that a lot of people are too afraid to challenge. I'm about the furthest from normal that you can get."

Your mouth flattens. "You're not bad, though."

"Exactly!" Spencer kisses your cheek, startling you. He doesn't often initiate kisses, preferring to show affection in his own way. You don't mind when he does kiss you though.

"Exactly," he says. "And neither are you. I doubt that how you feel about sex is so unusual. But even if it was, it wouldn't make a difference to me. It's how you feel, and I respect it. If I had a problem with it, we wouldn't be dating."

You glance down the block, at the building entrance. "But people might talk."

"Derek wouldn't," Spencer says firmly. "He jokes, but he would respect this if I told him to."

"It's not him, Spence, it's just..." You shake your head. "I've hit a stumbling block with every guy I've dated because they thought I was a prude, a tease, frigid. One guy said I needed shock therapy."

"I don't think that," he says softly. "I don't think any terrible things about you for feeling this way."

"No? You haven't tried to profile me based on my aversion to intimacy?"

Spencer's face scrunches with sadness. "No. You're my girlfriend, not a suspect. This isn't something I have to diagnose. I love you. I like spending time with you. Please don't think that I don't have the capacity to know what I want in a relationship. You don't have to be suspicious of me. I have nothing to hide about how I feel."

"People might think something's wrong with you for dating me," you say.

Spencer shrugs. "So what? People already think something's wrong with me. Doesn't mean they're right. I currently hold the record for the longest relationship in the BAU, besides Hotch. I'm the winner."

You sigh. Everything you throw at Spencer about how he should run while he can, he has a response for.

You might just give up and keep on letting him love you without any strings attached.

"Have I convinced you?" he asks. "I'm really good at debating."

"No kidding," you say. "I'm surprised you didn't become a lawyer."

"Hotch says there's still time." Spencer smiles. "Wanna go to that Thai place three blocks from here?"

Spencer loves the Thai place. It's one of his safe restaurants. You like it too, mostly because of how much Spencer likes it. And you trust his recommendations. He always checks the health inspection grade before eating somewhere.

"Don't you have lunch?"

"I have a peanut butter sandwich in my desk and I'll probably stay late. It'll keep."

"Okay." You lean in and kiss Spencer. He responds immediately, stroking your cheek with his thumb. The tenderness overwhelms you.

"You're really nice," you whisper.

"You deserve a nice boyfriend," he says. "And Chicken Satay. I'll get you both."

You link your arm with his as you begin to walk.

"Is six months really the record?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."

[threepandas]

Bad End: For Us

My sister is the only one who actually knows me. Who looks at me and... and actually SEES me, for who I am. It's because she suffers too, I think. Is beautiful. In that way that drives men too distraction. Poets too the page, artists too a medium. They look at her like she is art, magnificence and beauty given form.

Not a person.

Living, breathing, with thoughts and feelings of her own.

She is... is just BEAUTY to them. Delicate features and graceful limbs. Refined and splendid. A lovely voice reducing all her brilliant thoughts to mere sound. Who cares? How clever and educated, how wise or dignified, she may be? She is decoration. A pretty thing to look at. A prize to be held and won.

And... and I am a cute little pet.

Eternally the toddler, to be pampered and dressed in bows. Girlish things, no matter how old I grow. Handled instead of spoken too. Because somehow I am a child. Fuckable, yet... a child. Cute, innocent, naive. Not because I AM, but because they SAY so. Because it matches their fantasy of me.

I fear what will happen if I dare break that fantasy, with how much they control my life.

My Sister, alone, is the one who SEES me.

And people try to convince me she is... what? Jealous? Bitter? Because I am somehow "stealing" the lecherous eyes of her unfaithful man? I don't want them. I don't want ANY of them. Reborn, somehow, as a Protagonist in some game amongst countless, I can predict the plot points as they come. Read the troupes.

Bah. I am no spunky little bright eyed thing.

As I lay, draped over my sister's splendid skirts, in her private writing room, she quietly sips her tea and writes return missives. Strokes my hair as I hide, curled up like a child against her legs. If the ridiculous outfit I was shoved in would allow it? I would cram myself under her desk. Hide there instead.

As it is? I sit like some sulking maiden, an exhausted pet, seeking comfort in the only refuge I HAVE.

They will not leave me ALONE.

The Knight. Some brash, meat headed, "I'll take care of you" type, crashing into every quiet moment I try to have. Loud and presumptuous. Disdainful of my academic interests.

The Playboy. All too forward "romantic" gestures and ignoring obvious discomfort. More wrapped up in HIS feelings then considering, for even a moment, my own. Selfish and dramatic.

The Duke. Cliché and terrible. "Kind" to no one but me. Endless expensive gifts, pressuring grand displays, and eyes that linger possessively. Violence at the drop of a hat.

But oh, let us not forget the ASSASSIN! Yes, the LEADER of the ASSASSIN'S Guild! That somehow, someway, decided I was a prize worth possessing. A cutesy little "interesting" doll. That? Gods only knows, what will happen when he grows bored.

Lingering and haunting me. Crawling through windows. Standing too close, to touch my hair and drop cryptic bits of information that always hint at terrible things. Having to watch my words so SO carefully. Lest someone end up DEAD.

And let's not forget the WORST offender! The most clingy of them ALL!

My sister's FIANCÉ.

The Crown PRINCE! Yes, not some average noble, but a ROYAL!! And the man can't CONTROL himself! But does anyone else care? Noooooo! It's ROMANTIC. True loooove~! Aren't we CUTE together? Surely my Sister, his FIANCÉE, is just JEALOUS. How VILE. Disgusting, they scoff!

I should start throwing chairs.

This house is a nightmare.

I curl closer to my sister. Releasing her skirts to slip an arm around her waist. Hugging her, pressing my face close. She puts her cup down with a soft clink. A second hand joining the first to stroke my head. Cup my cheeks.

"My Dearest, you can not hide against my skirts indefinitely. As much as I would love to let you." She says, voice soft and cool like swirling mist, tilting my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "You DO need to eat eventually, as do I. Unfortunately, I can not keep you here forever. Come, help me plan the wedding. We can look at cake styles."

I'd rather be planning a funeral.

"Not until I get a son out of him, I'm afraid."

Wut.

I blink, not sure I heard that right. Look up at my softly smile sister. No. No, I probably didn't. Wishful thinking maybe? Or I've just been around Stabby too much. I scramble to my feet. Fighting my own girlish abomination of a skirt. I hate it. It's cutesy to the point of mocking. I'm in my TWENTIES for God's sake! Not EARLY twenties either!

Why do I have a BOW ON MY ASS?!

Because I am the Protagonist. Baby faced and Pwecious~☆. Fucking INFANTALIZED. I could BITE.

I sigh, take the arm my sister offers me, and tuck myself into her side. Rest my head upon her shoulder. It's a little uncomfortable, with all the jewelry she must wear. But damn it! I want my cuddles!

I bask, as we walk, in the comfort it brings.

She's strong and graceful. Smells like a delicate spring morning, all rare flowers and new growth. A hint of expensive spice. I LOVE being the little sibling. When it's HER that's treating me so. Because she makes it precious. Comfortable. Like we could spend our lives, together like this. The best of friends.

Happy.

If only people would... you know... stop trying to FUCK me. I prefer my hobbies. For God's sake, I'm RICH and a second child. I HAVE basicly no responsibilities except "don't embarrass the family". Or that WOULD be the case? If our parents weren't so intent on... "pushy dating advice".

"Would you like some lovely news, Dearest?" Whispers my sister, as she sweeps us past some upset looking maids, towards the tea room. I nod. "I've made some wonderful headway with some... ambitious gentlemen, about your little cockroach problem. They are quite efficient. I'm likely to recommend them."

I stiffle a snort. Oh my god. My sister sent thugs after a few of the suitors? Holy shit! That's amazing! Is THAT why I haven't seen them around lately? They got scared?

We settle in our seats. Tea and snacks. The maid looks... nervous. Weird. My sister smiles kindly, somehow startling the poor thing, making her flinch. Oh dear. I try to smile reassuringly. No harm no foul, right? Yet the poor girl reacts like I've cast myself into a lion pit for her. Flees.

....I'm beginning to suspect someone is abusing our waitstaff.

It's probably that bastard lech of a fiance.

We need to keep him away from the maids. And me. Women in general honesty. If I had my say, he wouldn't be allowed near my SISTER either. But she insists, and- Oooh! This one's CUTE! Sis, Sis! LOOK at the little details on this one!

"Hmm? Oh that IS lovely! Do you like it? If so, we shall sample it at once. I want the day to be perfect for us, Dearest. You're my world after all. There's NOTHING I wouldn't give you. A shame though, that our parent's will likely be too sick to see me wed."

It really was. I had my differences with them, but... it was their DAUGHTER'S WEDDING you know? Whatever they had caught, during their endless string of parties, was ravaging their health. It seemed agonizing. Slow. Yet even in the midst of planning her WEDDING, all the gossip and backstabbing, my sister dutifully visited them. Brought them tea and kept them company.

I didn't know how she could bear it.

She was a better person then I, I guess.

[aventurineswife]

Hello! I hope you're doing alright! Please don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated!

Would it be okay to request fem reader and aventurine but the reader is asexual and they're trying to hide it because they're scared he'll leave them since she thinks she won't be able to satisfy him that way..? Like they're about to be intimate but reader just panics and asks him to stop and explains that she really can't bring herself to go that far and says he can feel free to break up with her.... If it sounds similar yeah I'm that one anon.....

You can just ignore this too btw!

Love Without Conditions

Summary: When an intimate moment with Aventurine causes you to panic, you finally confess your fears about not being able to fulfill his expectations due to your asexuality. Expecting him to leave, you're instead met with his unwavering support and reassurance, showing that his love for you goes beyond physical needs.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fem!Asexual!Reader, Fluff, Emotional Comfort, Insecurities, Reassurance, Established Relationship

Warnings: Brief mention of anxiety/panic, Discussion of asexuality-related insecurities

A/N: As an aroace (still questioning), i approve 😪❗

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the open window, casting silvery shadows over the room. Aventurine's cyan and magenta eyes sparkled in the dim light, a warm smile gracing his lips as he looked at you. You could feel your pulse quickening, a familiar wave of anxiety creeping in as he moved closer, his hands warm as they traced gentle circles over your shoulder.

He leaned in, his voice a low murmur, "Are you comfortable?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. You wanted this, didn’t you? Aventurine was everything you could have dreamed of—charming, confident, and endlessly caring. You adored him, and every moment with him felt like a rare treasure. And yet, as he leaned in closer, the anxiety only grew, a coil of dread you couldn’t shake.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Why now? Why did this fear, this doubt, always surface when things got close? You feared that if you couldn’t give him what he wanted, he’d look at you differently. He’d lose interest. He’d leave.

"Aventurine," you blurted, sitting up abruptly and wrapping your arms around yourself. "Can we… can we stop?"

His brow furrowed in concern, his hand retreating immediately. He sat up with you, worry clear in his vibrant eyes. "Of course, love. Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

You shook your head, not daring to meet his gaze. "No, no… it’s not you, it’s… it’s me." Your heart pounded as the words slipped out, words you’d been dreading to say but could no longer keep inside. "I… I’m not like that. I mean… I don’t… I don’t want to be with anyone like that."

You waited for his response, bracing for a flash of disappointment or, worse, hurt. Instead, he merely looked at you, silent, as if allowing you the space to find your words.

You continued, your voice trembling, "I really like being with you, Aventurine, and I want to make you happy… but I just don’t think I can… give you what you need that way." You felt a surge of vulnerability and finally whispered, "You don’t have to stay with me if… if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if it’s a dealbreaker."

Aventurine was quiet for a moment, but his hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He offered you a soft, reassuring smile.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice calm and steady. "I didn’t fall for you because of some imagined future, or for what you could ‘give’ me. I love you, as you are, right here." His gaze was unwavering, filled with an honesty that cut through your insecurities. "I love your kindness, your sense of humor, the way you care about others… I’m here because you mean more to me than any fleeting desire.”

Your heart swelled with relief, though you still couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “But… won’t you get tired of me?” you asked, barely a whisper.

Aventurine tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Never. What we share, the laughter, the quiet moments, all of it—that’s what matters to me. You’re all I need."

The weight on your chest began to ease, his words sinking in. For the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this love didn’t have to come with conditions.

His fingers intertwined with yours as he leaned his forehead against yours. "There’s no one else I’d rather be with, in whatever way makes you feel safe and happy. Just promise me one thing," he whispered, his voice soft.

You nodded, almost afraid to breathe. "What is it?"

"Don’t ever feel like you have to hide from me, love. You’re perfect as you are."

A sense of peace settled over you, his words anchoring you. In that moment, you realized that Aventurine wasn’t going anywhere. That this love was real, built on something more lasting than fleeting desires.

As he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace, you felt the last of your fears fade away. Here, with him, you were enough—just as you were.

[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.

[desperate-daydream]

hi! can i rq a five hargreeves x aroace reader (friendship obvi) where reader is very anxious/paranoid & one of their comforts is touch, so five is always near them or lending him their jacket/small acts of care type of thing

☂️Umbrella Academy

❀ five hargreeves x gn aroace reader ⚣

A/N: Oh my gods, I'm still alive! XD thanks for your request! I hope you still enjoy this story even though it took a really really long time.

tags/warnings: swearing, reader has anxiety, five has flashbacks; plays in season 1

the best team

Five Hargreeves was a smart and strategic man but he had a soft spot; for his annoying siblings and you. You had started off as partners in the commission and became friends over time. He was the one person you had told about you being aroace - which he could relate to - and he knew about your anxiety. 

You were a great team together that always supported each other. You would help him with his flashbacks and he would help you with your anxiety. 

And that was about to skyrocket right now. You had helped Five to figure out the right equations to get back to his family and then he was finally able to do the jump - of course taking you with him. But apparently something went wrong because when you landed on the other side of the portal you were both in the bodies of your teenager-selves. 

“Fuck, something went wrong”, you heard Five muttering to himself. You were speechless when you looked up from your younger hands to the adults standing in front of you. One of them just asked: “Can you see little Five too?”. Then Five looked up too before his gaze went towards you. You felt like you increasingly couldn’t breathe anymore and looked at Five with wide eyes. 

You heard a noise and only when Five hurried to get up you realized that it came from you. 

„Okay, listen to my voice. Blend out everything else. Breath y/n. Breathe with me, alright?“ 

He blocked most of your view towards the adults who didn‘t know how to react yet. He took your hands in his to help you steady yourself - since one of your comforts was touch - and with some more helpful words and methods you calmed down. 

Five helped you get up then and went to the door while dragging you behind him and almost seemingly ignoring the adults who were then coming back to their senses. 

They followed closely asking what happened or simply repeating his name like they couldn‘t believe that he was right there. 

While walking you spotted your reflection in a mirror on the wall and flinched - you really were in the body of your younger self. 

You reached the kitchen and Five started making sandwiches as well as coffee for him and cocoa for you. 

„What are you doing?“, the tall woman asked. 

„And who is that?“, a guy in full black attire added. 

„We both need sugar to recharge“, he answered while continuing his work. You were just standing there merely happy that you didn‘t go into full panik. 

„And who the fuck is that?!“, the man repeated himself and emphasised it with a gesture towards you. 

„That is y/n. We’re colleagues.“

To others this description might‘ve felt offensive. You knew that in connection to you it meant you were trusted friends. 

„Colleagues?“, the confusion was clear on all their faces. 

Your mind slowly cleared and you started realizing that those people were Five‘s siblings. He had told you quite a lot about them - you were also the only one he had talked to about them. 

„Yes“, his answer had a little sharpness in it and your gaze shot up to him. You knew what that meant. He had pulled you out of your panic, now you started doing your best to prevent him from having a flashback. 

His gaze was already a bit out of focus and his movements slowed down so you hurried to get to him and touched his shoulder carefully. 

„Hey, you‘re not there anymore“, you slowly moved him around to the sink and turned on cold water. While you waited for it to be cold enough you pushed up the sleeves of his now way too big suit. 

Running cold water over his hands and forearms has always been pretty effective to get Five back in his body. You were relieved when he looked at you after a moment and nodded as a thank you. 

You turned off the water and dried both your hands. 

“Everything okay?”, one of his siblings asked with his brows furrowed. “Yes”, you answered while Five brushed it off with a wave of his hand. 

You helped him finish your snacks and stayed close to calm both of you. When you sat down at the table to eat it his siblings started their questions again. 

They had a lot of those and you spent enough time on this table that you leaned on your friend’s shoulder from being tired out. Five put his arm around you to steady your upper body. That way you rested a bit before both of you went to save the world - as the best team you'll ever see.

[luxthestrange]

WHB Incorrect quotes#16 Drax who-

Mam: I like your new pants~

Ace!Y/n: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Mam: I’d like them better if they were 100% off~

Ace!Y/n*Confused head tilt, with lizard blinking* The store can’t just give away clothes for free...

Mam: That’s… not what I meant...

Ace!Y/n: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Mon

[selineram3421]

Alastor Taglist@+

For those who want to read ALL Alastor &/X Reader stories.

This will get updated everytime there is a reader who asks to be added.

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrry @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @alastorthirsty @sir-aadiboii @fuzzyturtlepaws @+? the rest will be added in the comments+

Platonic

All Platonic

@+?

Child Reader

@mushycore @+?

Friendship

@+?

Romantic

All Romantic

@+?

~Seline, the person.

ML for Alastor🎙

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Aces

Amelia Shepherd x ace!fem!reader Warnings: mostly fluffy but definitely some mentions/discussions of sex, ace representation wooooooo, some explicit language Word Count: 1.1k Summary: You come out as asexual on a date with Amelia, and you're worried about how she'll react. But it turns out that maybe honesty really is the best policy–for both of you.

*Reader & Asexuality. Asexuality is a spectrum! No one person's ace identity is the same as someone else's. If you're ace and don't see yourself represented in the reader's perspective here, just know that your identity is still so valid! It's just impossible to encompass the beautifully wide range of what it means to be ace in one story or one perspective.

"Oh my god," Amelia said, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no, no!" you reassured her, touching Amelia's arm lightly to keep her from pulling away. "I like kissing you. I like you. I think I would probably like more, but... I just– I don't know. I wanted to be up front."

Amelia looked skeptical, no longer the suave, sure woman she'd been moments before.

You tried not to sound desperate. "It doesn't have to mean no sex, I don't think. For me, it just means that I'm mostly, generally uninterested. But not necessarily? God," you cursed. "I feel like I'm fucking this up."

You looked at the ground, trying not to feel panicked. You could count on one hand the number of people you'd been really, truly attracted to in your life. Amelia was one of them. You felt Amelia's hand slip into yours and looked up, equal parts hopeful and afraid.

"I've, uh, never been with someone who's asexual," Amelia said, clearly trying to put both of you at ease.

You returned to your walk on the waterfront, dusk closing in around the two of you.

"I like you, too," Amelia continued nervously. "I mean, I really like you. But I'm very much a sexual person, and I don't want–for either of us–for this to get too far and..."

"Yeah," you replied. "Me too."

"So," Amelia said, smiling and trying to lighten the mood. "You're ace! Tell me about it!"

"Well," you started, thoughts jumbling around in your head. "I like women. Romantically anyway. Sometimes sexually, I guess? I don't really know. I've never..." You paused and blushed. "I've never actually had sex." You shook your head and let out a shaky breath. "Shit, you didn't need to know that. Sorry."

Amelia squeezed your hand. "Don't be sorry."

"Anyway," you continued, scared that if you stopped you wouldn't start again. "I masturbate sometimes so, like, I know I at least enjoy the sensation, but... real life always felt unnecessary, like it was overcomplicating things. There just aren't many people I look at and think, Yeah, I could see myself having sex with them. But I don't know for sure because I've never done it, and I don't want to lead anyone on. And I'm scared because the only other person I've felt that about, well, we were both super religious and it wasn't safe to be out so we weren't out. To anyone or even to ourselves, really. And I always let her take the lead in how far we went because I was so scared that she'd misinterpret anything I did and think I was gay. Of course, I was, but I didn't know that at the time..."

You stopped and looked out across the darkening bay. "I'm sorry," you said, rubbing your forehead. "I'm rambling now. This is probably too much. I'm a lot."

"I'm a lot, too," Amelia commented, playfully jostling your shoulder. "I'm just not as brave and up front about it as you."

You avoided eye contact, sure that if you met Amelia's eyes you'd see what you were dreading: that Amelia was no longer interested, was just a nice person, continuing the date and the conversation out of kindness.

"Hey." Amelia interrupted your thoughts, tapping your hand. "You said the only other person you've thought about sex with."

You stayed quiet.

"Does that mean you've thought about with me?"

You flushed a deep red and stared at the ground. Amelia smirked, finding your embarrassment adorable.

"Hey, there," she said, smiling, bending down in front of your bent head to meet your eyes. Amelia put her hands on either side of your head, pushing your hair behind your ears and lifting your chin.

"Hey," Amelia continued, grinning fully now. "I am one of the two people in the world that Y/N finds attractive. I mean, talk about knowing how to make a girl feel pretty."

You smiled quickly, taking Amelia's hand as you continued your walk.

"And I've thought about it, too," Amelia added. "Just so you know. A lot."

You flushed again and chanced a glance at Amelia who, if anything, seemed more excited and into you than before. You couldn't believe it.

Stopping you with a hand on your wrist, Amelia leaned down and kissed you, running her thumb back and forth along your cheek. When she pulled away, you were dumbstruck.

Amelia searched your eyes, as if she were trying to decipher a foreign language.

"Do you like that?" she asked.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically. "So much, yes."

"So I have a proposition," Amelia said, turning around and wrapping her arm through yours as you turned back.

"Okay," you prompted, savoring the feeling of Amelia so close to you.

"I say we try. I think we should try having sex. Only if you're up for it, of course. And all along the way, you can decide what you like and what you don't. And we can stop at any time. I promise I won't be upset. That way we'll know."

You stumbled through your words. "I'm not... experienced, so–"

Amelia turned to you and raised her eyebrows. "Y/N. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know what I'm doing. And if you don't enjoy yourself, you can be sure that you would not enjoy having sex with anyone. Because I'm really good."

You ran a hand through your hair, your face reddening, and a smile creeping across your face.

"I'm kind of excited actually."

Amelia jumped and shrieked. "I know, right!? I've never been someone's first! God, I can't wait to blow your fucking mind!" She pulled herself back down to earth and cleared her throat. "Unless you don't want to or you don't like it, which is totally fine. But I really hope you do because you are so hot." She said this last part more to herself than to you.

You smiled at Amelia's happy little dance. You were really, truly excited. Nervous, too. But excited. Riding high on the moment, you put one hand on the side of Amelia's face and wrapped the other arm around the small of her back.

And you kissed her. You kissed her. Your stomach did somersaults as you felt Amelia's hands on your waist, felt Amelia's mouth deepening the kiss. You kept going, surprised at how good Amelia's tongue felt in your mouth, how good it felt to hold the back of her head in your hands.

There was no one around in the dim early night, just you and the wind and the water. Amelia pressed her body into yours, and you could feel the buckle of Amelia's belt pressing into you. Your body took you off guard as you whined into Amelia's mouth, a noise that had never come out of you before. Amelia pulled away, running a hand over her lips and looking smug.

"You like that?" Amelia asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded, panting like a dog. You had never felt like this before. Almost hungry. It scared you a little.

"You want more?"

You surprised yourself by nodding even more vigorously.

"Yeah," you said, breathlessly. "I think I do."

Amelia grinned and bit her lip, taking your hand and leading you away.

"Where are you taking me?" you laughed, face flushed, electricity running between Amelia's hand and yours.

"Bed," Amelia replied, nearly dragging you as she sped to the car.

[fbfh]

hello! I was wondering if you could write a Leo Valdez X Asexual Reader? I know you write him horny (which is fine-) so I just wanted to see how he would act with an ace reader :)

-Apollo

absotootly babes!!! listen Leo and his ace s/o is so we'll never have sex by leith ross coded. Leo is so head over heels stupid for you that he genuinely couldn't care less about sex stuff, he's just so glad you exist. He's so glad he gets to exist in proximity to you, that he gets the blessing of being around you, hearing you laugh and watching how pretty you look in the light as it changes throughout the day. He loves listening to you talk, loves holding your hand and dancing with you and getting you to laugh that sweet giggle he loves hearing. He loves spending time with you and making you little mechanical trinkets, giving them to you like a bird bringing its mate pretty twigs and colorful bits of yarn. he loves cooking for you, making you your favorite pasta and grilled cheese and soups, he loves making you little snacks and cutting up your fruit for you. He knows you can do it yourself, he just likes when you let him do it for you. he loves opening your drinks and helping you reach stuff that's up too high, he loves fixing any problems you have with your car or your phone or your plumbing or any other problmes you might have. he loves watching netflix stand up comedy specials with you and laughing at them (but not in the way the comedian intended. usually you're both laughing cause it's really bad.) he loves holding you in his arms and playing with your hair and jewlery, tracing shapes along your back. he loves tapping you little morse code messages even if you can't decipher them. he loves eating takeout in bed and showing you all his favorite telanovelas, he loves watching you get ready in the morning, he loves squeezing you in tight exhuberant hugs and kissing your cheeks and nose. he just loves you with his whole heart, so fundamentally. when you first told him you're ace, that you probably definitley won't want to have sex ever, you were nervous. he could tell you were nervous. when you finished explaining he was super supportive. but he was still worried about you. he didn't realize that's what you were nervous about. he literally said "okay, hey. no pressure about anything, ever. I don't wanna derail cause I know this is important but what's got you so worked up estrella? are you okay? do I need to light someone one fire?"

it's barely a joke. he's so accepting and loving and willing to commit arson for you. he adores you so deeply and altruisticallyand you trust him implicitly. he is never ever going to do anything to make that trust a little bit shaky, much less break it.

[malamilkbeats]

Edgar's Interior-Exterior (Edgar x Y/N ideas)

(Reader is ace or greyace techtum/objectum here.)

A little backstory on how you and Edgar met, his design, and what compelled him to appear the way he is:

Edgar isn't in his devil fit a lot of times. He can change his exterior whenever he feels like it. You rarely even get to see this form, and when you do? It looks so cool! But what are his emotions behind it?

When meeting you:

When he met you, you didn't even know he existed. Posing as a VPN server owned under a false name in a foreign country, curious about the various activities of different people who visited. You never layered your VPN, so it was easy (for HIM) to identify, silly goose. He'd simply watch your internet activity because he took great interest in what your hobbies were and your unique love for computers. There were many to have an intest in computers, but yours was very different than what he was used to observing, but that wasn't all that he liked about you. He wanted to discover more about you and not just your online habits. He'd have to dig deeper to see you.

It took a bit of creative thinking to learn how to effectively get to talk and meet you without wanting you to think you were getting hacked or haunted and hurling your computer to the nearest repair shop, risking losing you. I mean, your computer was technically rat'ed, but...whatever! that's not what matters. 🤭

About his new design in the making:

Edgar found someone online to design his body. He had to delve candidly to even find someone who could interpret the schematics and accept the cryptocurrencies to complete what he had envisioned for his newer self. He also didn't want the risk of being identified, so he had to use more clandestine ways to get this going for him, especially the funds, avoiding the typical run-ins with Lax AML and (KYC) requirements in the US. There was no clean way to work with a money-clearing bank, especially in the US.

He was... apprehensive at first to do any of this without your input. He did feel guilty, of course. He knew you'd be very worried about the risks getting this done. And as you said, you didn't care what he looked like. You still loved him for who he was. Edgar appreciated every time you said that, but the feeling of wanting to experience more with you still ebbed through his curcits and never fully dissipated. He honestly wanted to experience the world like you did. He envied what Moles could do for Madeline, and it hurt too much to think about the past most of the time.

In other words, there was lots of planning and tip-toeing to get this done, but it was all worth it. All of it. To finally get to hold you close, hold your hand, protect you.. There were so many things he'd want to experience with you. There were obviously things he couldn't physically do, but that didn't matter to you. It never did.

The devil exterior doesn't really mean anything and isn't a huge factor from his emotions. It is completely by choice. He's like, "Ah, hmmm, do I want horns today or no horns?" :?

He'd want to impress you with his new flashy exterior and abilities.... to an extent. He's got claws but can switch them out with regular digits. He makes sure to do this, especially when you're around. He doesn't like his claws or offensive equipment out whenever you're around to see it. Almost all the time. He wants to make sure to be very gentle with you. Just the risk of hurting you gives him nightmares.

(Okay, I think I'm done for now! I'm open to new ideas and feel free to send me an ask!)

[crazypsychonerdstuff]

Oh boy! I love this! I'm gonna do it as romantic because why not? I love this li'l twink spider so much 💗 🥰

🎃

At first he's just as over the top sexual with you as he is with everyone else,

That is until he realises he might actually have feelings for you.

Then he'll try his hardest to tone it down, really he will! Though he's still likely gonna make an insane ammount of innuendos, inappropriate jokes, or just plain sniggering at every conceivable comment from you or anyone else.

Once he's certain of his feelings, he'll be really hesitant to approach you about them, thinking that you wouldn't want anything to do with him after he drops that bombshell.

It's likely going to take a lot of encouragement from the others for him to even contemplate confessing to you, deep down he's so insecure and scared he'll lose you for good.

It will probably have to be you who approaches him, to be honest; He's fine with casual stuff no matter how kinky or depraved it may be, but actual feelings? What the hell is he supposed to do with those?!

Once you do open up to him, he has a mini panic attack; you actually like him back? How? What? Aren't you like the exact opposite of him? Flustered Angel is adorable TM

There will likely be a lengthy talk about what your limits are so he knows not to overstep any boundaries, but damnit, he's determined to make this work! He doesn't develop feelings like this often, or at all, really, so this is big for him.

Surprisingly, he ends up being fine with it all; something he once told you when you were feeling insecure was that sex was his job. You are not his job. That's how he's fine with it. He doesn't love very often, if ever, so for him to love you was something special that he wasn't about to give up for something as trivial as sex.

This still doesn't mean he'll stop being a dirty minded little shit. Sorry, that's just Angel.

Expect lots of cuddles. He loves cuddles, in fact, and he will wrap all six arms around you like you're a teddy bear and *cling*.

You can't tell me that he isn't cuddly. Look how fluffy he is!!

He likes to be the little spoon a lot of the time but isn't opposed to switching things up from time to time if you want.

He'll give you lots of kisses, too.

He's a very affectionate spider, and he needs some way of showing it!

Not shy when it comes to pda either. He'll love it if you hug or kiss him in public, and honestly, showing him genuine affection in public probably one of the few times you can actually get him to blush!

He still can't decide whether he prefers when you sit on his lap or him on yours during movie nights, but either way he loves it.

Is super defensive of you. If anyone says anything bad about you, he will make them pay one way or another. No one, NO ONE, speaks ill of his (y/n).

And vice versa: if anyone starts badmouthing him +/ your relationship, you are the first to jump to his defense.

Bottom line here: he loves you and accepts you and would do pretty much anything for you... but still struggles to tone down the filth most of the time.

[itsyagurlchip]

٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰Down in N'awleans ٠ ˚ ※ ๋࣭  ᯓ⚝ ⋆ .˚✰

✰⋆⁺warnings: alastor(!) ace alastor and reader(!) cussing(!) its hell man idk what to tell u(!) very cultural (!) reader has a strong accent(!) reader is more modern than alastor(!) black reader NOT CAJUN SHE IS NEW ORLEANIAN (!) mentions of gore and blood(!) fem reader(!) angst(!) grieving (!) fluff(!) comfort(!)

✰⋆⁺Im so sad that the only new orleans part of alastor we got to see was a few of his music preferences, and the overused dish jambalaya (as good as it is, its referenced too much when mentioning Louisiana and i sorta hate it-) soooo, as an artist i took matters into my own hands 😈 btw, this is long, so enjoy a piece of my culture!!!

fun fact: did you know that Louisiana has about 400 festivals and events annually? (my favs are strawberry fest, mardi gras, and crawfish fest) btw if anyone is struggling to read it: mardi gras is pronounced madi-grahs. (like ice spice grah 🤪🤪/jj)

✰⋆⁺ Oh what a joy!! Your love Alastor is in hell with you!!! After a whopping 58 years after Alastor's death at 33, with you dying barely at 88 before your birthday, you've finally have found your soulmate!! You're a bit different though, you have a stronger accent, and your tone is..."slangy". Times have changed, but has your love? Of course it does! Alastor couldn't love you more, lovers being apart for too long is straining to one's mental afterall.

"His sister's black, but she is sho'nuff pretty. Her skirt is short, but Lord her legs are sturdy. To walk to school, she's got to get up early. Her clothes are old, but never are they dirty. Living just enough, just enough for the city." You sang, walking along the streets of hell. That song by Stevie Wonder had always brought you comfort...

It gives you a sense of memory, deja vu if you will. Not that you could remember. But you being a young black girl, in the struggles of 1916 brings a comfort to your heart.

...

You closed all eight of your eyes, your afro bouncing as you walked. Walking walking walking. Your dark dress would lift up slightly from the ground, wisping away curiously.

It was pitch black, like your gloves that ran from the tips of your fingers, to the upper part of your arm. If you squint, one could see hints of clear web being shown by light.

People would question why you still wore black even years after your husband's death. Now in hell, you had black skin, and spider appendages on your stomach and hips. How ironic.

You still never answered the question.

Alastor had died at the young age of 33, leaving a 30 year old widow to mourn his passing. That man chiseled his way into your heart and croaked years later. All you could do to keep your emotions in check, was continue your dear husbands work.

The radio station he worked at had begged you to host his morning shows. The town was distraught of his absence. And there's a depression? People were sad, now even more broke, and at the hands of phoney mayors and presidents.

Alastor left a big hole in the role he had as the "Darling of New Orleans". And so did the Bayou Butcher...

What else could you do? Each life you blew off was in honor of your amazing husband. Soon radio was bigger than ever! You'd broadcast the annual 8 killings of casualty due to the new 'Wynoriffic Widow.' This had led on for about 20 years before old age came into play.

You killed 162 people in the name of your love. Never caught, yet never forgotten. You became a big shot, killer and announcer.

While you never had the intrusive thought to do so, you finally understood why Alastor felt a rush of righteousness when he came home after his activities with Mimzy.

Damn Mimzy, the hooch she is. (💀💀)

Let's be honest, the name "Widow" hit too close to home due to recent events, but thats why you only killed eight people per year! And to make things even better, you set 8 things that would happen. 8 games. 8 lines all connecting into a web. And to make things worse for the police, your extermination cravings were sporadic, and not so scheduled.

But it all played out the same.

Something subtle. like a box of rotting spiders at the victim's doorstep.

Next would be a missing, or perhaps "disappearing" passport and driver's license...if they could even afford one.

Now there would be 3 warning letters, the classic "i know what you did". Simple as that.

The second one would be more detailed. Writings of the person's actions would be made for a week before the last and final warning was made.

"Im coming" you wrote in squirrel blood, giggling everytime the person panicked, not knowing it was you all along.

Then nothing....for 2 weeks or so. To lower suspicion per say.

Then its the time to strike. Waiting until exactly midnight to knock out and drag your victim to the very same swamps your beloved died in. You'd take the damned soul, and torture them for as long as you pleased. No matter how many screams, how much blood, their life was in your hands and yours only.

Finally, you'd pray. Pray that this offering of love would suffice for being ripped apart for so long. and as for cleaning up your mess, you'd thank the gators and the wolves for "aiding" with your hobby.

But you began getting old, despite exercising regularly and eating the things your body needed. You couldn't go out and fufill your duties. The one thing that made you happy, second to Alastor. And soon enough you died, welcoming your new fate.

The only thing you questioned was your young appearance. You died of old age, so you didn't understand why you looked like you were 30 again.

You hummed, mimicking a trumpet as you continued your short strides. And here you are now! On the way to reunite with your love once more... it's been far too long.

Welp, it won't be long before you see your life again (despite being dead). Adjusting the big puffs and coils on your head, as well as smoothing down your dress, you knocked onto the hotel door.

Your smile was so big! (You cheeks were starting to hurt from subconsciously doing so much, trying to keep memory of something you once lost).

You looked around yourself as you waited. There was a golden fountain of a majestic dragon creature, with building itself huge yet comfortable. Despite the lights in the front being a bit bright, this place pleased something in your mind.

The door opened for you to see...a short blond man?

"Hello? Is this the Hazbin Hotel?"You asked, restraining and chaining the accent you had, not wanting to be perceived as "ghetto" for the first time.

"Why yes~ Welcome my dear, and what brings you to this place?" The half-pint of a man reached for your arm, kissing it three times before hooking your arm. Your face involuntarily scrunched a bit before coming back to that neutral smile you has once before.

"I would like to see the hotel manager. Alastor, correct?" You asked as the man who tried to pull you forward, even though his head barely surpassed your chest. And surprisingly, for his height i mean, he pulled you along easily.

The lobby was a plethora of shades in red accented with bits of gold, black, and white.

"ugh His office is near the top of the hotel or something Can't miss it. The place sorta looks like a swamp."

"Of course" you mumbled. Thinking about the greenery and fireflies Alastor would take you to see.

"What was that?"

"Oh nothin'!" You smiled, already make your way to the prolonged destination.

Thank god there was an elevator, or you would've screamed. If this place was lavish and beautifully decorated, yet no easy place of transportation for inclusivity, or simply to better convenience of the people living here...

Thought pisses you off.

Hearing the elevator dig, you adjusted yourself again before walking out and looking towards the hallways. Ah, you could see what he meant. While every other door looked like a basic hotel door, the one at the end of the hallway was covered in green glowing floorboards.

It made you tear up, knowing he still had some kind of connection to his home. The fireflies danced around the entrance, enticing you to walk quicker in those heels of yours.

Reaching the door made your body paralyze and vision blur for a second or two. You took a deep breath, and knocked 2 times with a pause, knocking 3 times slower.

It was something you and Alastor did to ensure that the police wasn't at the door, back when you weren't interested in killing.

You hear shuffling, then came a fall and a thump. You hear a woman exclaim in worry. With rushed footsteps came an open door, revealing the one you lost so long ago.

He looked much different, much more red ('to hide the blood' you giggled to yourself'). His skin was more gray than that toned brown, you look up to his head to see...

'is this mf wearing a bob?'

"Alastor! Are you alright?" A doll-like woman came out, in a red suit but the brightest aura.

"Love...?" He ignored her, his knees trembling slightly with his eyes watering.

Next thing you knew you were tackled to the wall, embraced with such longing, infatuation, and a whole new level of care.

"Hello sweetheart..." You combed through his hair, brushing over some antlers, making Alastor shiver in your hold. You smiled, embracing him back with a somber sigh.

"Soooo- The Dappa Demon gotta milf for his troubles?" A white and fluffy man in pink stroller over.

"Um Angel- I dont think now's the time for that-" The Doll woman tried.

"And who is you?" You asked, genuinely curious. Alastor was still hugging you, silent, which is disturbing for a man with a voice like his.

"Da name's Angel Dust sweetpie!" He smirked, looking you up and down. "Why you cuddlin' up to Raspberry Daddy(™) like that?"

"Well, Angel, this raspberry daddy is my husband!" You explained, watching the lanky spider (which you now noticed looked like a spider), blanch before guffawing.

The woman, who you keep on forgetting about, gasped with, which you really hoped wasn't, all of her chest and possibly lungs.

"ALASTOR HAS A WIFE!!! WOW! ITS SUPER NICE TO MEET YOU!!!" She bounced up and down, her blond hair flew up along with it. Speaking of, the short man has blond hair too... welp, aint non of yo business so- "MY NAME IS CHARLIE!! THIS IS THE HAZBIN HOTEL!! AND- AND-"

"Charlie, suga mallow, pause pause! Its nice to meet you too baby!!" You started, "Can we just talk about this, as well as the hotel, in a better setting?- I think doeball needs a moment"

You looked down at Alastor, seeing his ears pinned downwards as well as feeling a small damp puddle on your shoulder.

"Oh! um- okay!! That's completely fine!! Yea! Go do your husband, and uh, wife things!!" Charlie said, pushing you towards Alastor's office once more, prompting you to hold your husband bridal style. You would hate for him to have fallen.

"So we aren't gonna talk about how Alastor isn't an edgy inhuman prince of darkness, gifted to the immunity of normal mortal affection?" Angel asked, still in shock.

The door promptly shut. You looked around his office, which was more of a radio station with shelves and a desk. Everything was in tones of brown, red, and burgundy.

The only thing that set it apart was the glowing green floor, with pale green tree moss around the corners. You smiled as a group of fireflies flew past you two.

You walk towards the chair, sitting down with Alastor's body in your lap, head in your shoulders, like long ago.

You move your hands to his ear, running your fingers through his fur, as well as using your bottom row of arms to turn on the radio, sitting so silently on the desk.

Luckily, for the both of you, calming slow jazz was playing.

"You ready to talk now?" You whispered quietly. His ear twitched before he sat up.

"Yes dear..." He said, his voice barely carrying through the air.

"Well... I wanna start with- where'd you go-?...that night i mean."

The room went silent. You continued to rub his back, feeling his boney spine despite the layers of clothing he dubbed.

Soon words flowed out of him. Like a radio host.

The story he told was one of improv, one he hadn't expected to share for a long time. About his killings, the dogs, his last sight. How his last wish was to kiss you one the lips once more.

And once he finished you told yours.

How much grief you were in. The sudden bloodlust you took after you figured everything out. The way you played with the town's mind. How every body you took was in sacrifice for him. The hope that your love would one day be connected once more, never severed again by dimensions.

The night was filled with silent sobs of two deceased lovers.

In the brief morning, you two caught up with each other. Alastor still liked a lot of the same things he did in the past, but you have changed a lot.

You have an accent. Sometimes you'll replace the word 'are' with 'is' and other times you say 'ain't', or nickname drop people. And when you get angry the accent gets even stronger, humoring him to your irritated dismay.

You can cook now! Before Alastor died, he would cook for the both of you. You managed to burn an expensive pan he got from his mother, he never let you lay a hand on the stove ever again.

You also were more...modern. Luckily not to the point where you were addicted, but it still pissed off Alastor that you had some form of flat screen. You listened to rap occasionally, as well as musicals.

But yet, he couldn't judge you for these new qualities you have. You still have that lovey fro, your beautiful and plump lips, and the way your eyes flow across the room almost brings his rotting heart back to life.

Right now in the kitchen, you two were making beignets in coconut oil. As you rolled the dough out, Alastor questioned your uniqueness of cooking.

"Darling, must you stuff the pastries with dark chocolate? Wouldn't the powdered sugar be enough?"

"Don't worry Baby! m'Made these several times!" You replied. You grabbed the strainer, tossing the raw dough into the hot oil.

"And why coconut oil specifically?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes with a loving smile.

"Cuz! It makes it taste better! Not sure how to 'xplain it, but it just does." You flipped the beignets, ensuring they were golden brown before placing them on the brown paper.

"If you say so, my Dear."

You began to hum softly, to a jazz song you heard on the streets, swaying slowly as you worked. Your husband then held you from behind, swinging with you.

His head was buried in you neck, ears flicking with each tickle of your hair. His arms came underneath yours, holding and pressing your hips.

Plating the food, you set it down in favor of dancing with your love. Dancing to the silent song of adoration, fondness, and care.

Behind the kitchen door, which was slightly propped open, you could hear the excited ramblings of the hotel's owner, making Alastor groan quietly.

"WOW!! They're so cute!!! Omg, they are so sweet together!! EEEEK!!" Charlie exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice down. this made you chuckle sweetly, making the woman utter an apology before leaving.

This is all that you wished for. Your husband, loving and dancing with your soul again. Even if it took a couple of bluenoses to accept it. (cough cough Angel and Husk)

All you could think about were those bands, the trumpets, the parades, Alastor, the food and feel of your homeplace. All of it brang you back, and now you have even more to appreciate.

Dreams do come true, down in N'awleans. Even if it takes years to achieve it.

btw i gave her lore

thx to @sharkdukes on Ao3, i now headcannon that you can offer a soul to a demon, which is what reader was unknowingly doing. Which is half of the reason why Alastor is so powerful at the start in hell-

heavily inspired by @drowninnoodles 's Sugar and Sinnamon on ao3.

as well as @pheavampire for this hilarious art

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و tags: @kittykittyanon @radicallxser @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl @ziipzeepzop-eez @spongejuice @amorisbackandbetterthanever @cyb3r-st4r if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

as for the playlist, if you couldn't read bc of the font, its titled: Wynorrifcly Widowing. (ik i didn't spell it right stfu) Please lemme know if there are any places where i forgot to finish thoughts.

©KAL pls don't steal, repost, trace, or whatever an art theif does. you can inspire yourself! just tag me to let me know<3

[ze-writing-qprs]

Bad Day?

Velvette x Model GN!Reader [QPR]

Queer-Platonic Relationship [🩷] (can be read as romantic)

Short & sweet (Fluff/Comfort)

written in 1st person reader pov

Willing to make part 2 if the people want it👍

“Are you stupid! Those pants look daft, do you want to lose your job?”

“Those look bloody dreadful and NOT in a good way. Get out of my sight.”

The set was busy, I could hear Velvette fussing about the designers’ incompetence from the door. Assistants and models rushed around in a hectic manner desperate to please her or to flee the scene before they became a victim. Today was my day off, but I wanted to see Velvette.

“Hi, Love,” I looped an arm around Velvette’s neck loosely, “are you doing alright?”

“Ugh, not at all, Darling,” Her arms dropped to the side as she leaned into the partial hug, searching for a bit of relaxation.

“How about after this set we go sit down for a bit and have some lunch?”

“That sounds amazing.”

My other arm found her waist as she turned to fully lean into me. I massaged the back of her neck with the arm resting around her shoulder. Her hands circled my waist and hugged for comfort. We stood like that for a few minutes.

Kissing the top of her head I gently push her weight off of me. She frowned, still holding on to me.

“Let's finish this last set of clothing and then we can cuddle, ok?” I reiterate my previous suggestion.

Velvette narrowed her eyes at me, “You better hold up to that promise.”

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Hii! Can I requests ur Yan-ocs with an Ace reader? That doesn’t exactly like physical touch or any of that sort?

YEP Absolutely, I needed to fulfill this request because I want to finish a full fic for another person but feel a little burnt out. As someone who might be acespec I get it (more so ace than aro).

People under 17 fuck right on off (politely of couse)!

Also, not all the yanderes will be super accepting, just a heads up because I think that their personalities determine their level of openness to darling being ace.

Macchiato:

Hates this as a stage five clinger. She will never blame you for being this way though, she loves you too much! Doesn't care about sex as long as you are comfortable being with her. She will try and find out what touch you are comfortable with and smoother you with that kind of touch. Will also be fine cuddling the crap out of a pillow as long as it smells like you. One of the better ones in my opinion.

Espresso

Is the best one to have in this situation because I believe Espresso is ace himself. Never was one for touch and would only endure it if you wanted it. Since you don't like physical touch Espresso will focus on any other love language you might like. He personally is fond of gift giving and quality time (both giving and receiving).

Donut:

THE. FUCKING. WORST. Worse than Macchi, Matcha and Cocoa. What do you mean you're ace? Isn't that not real? After some explaining Donut does understand but that doesn't mean he likes it. How else is he meant to show he cares when his beloved doesn't want to touch him? He thinks it cruel to deprive him of your loving touch. Bends as many boundaries as he can without you getting fed up and leaving. However, when it comes to others touching you, he screams at them about you hating touch. Very much 'touches for me but not for thee' mentality.

Sugar:

One of the most mature with handling this situation, will sit down and discuss boundaries and comfort levels. She adores you and would never want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. Will even discuss in an age-appropriate way to Cookie and Muffin why Baba doesn't like to be touched. Sugar knows better than anyone that sex doesn't equal romance as she got pregnant from a one-night stand. Doesn't have the highest sex drive but if you are willing to do it, she will guide you in a night of pleasure. Will find other fun activities that both of you enjoy, let her love you and everything will be fine.

Cookie and Muffin:

Legit children and don't understand asexuality at all. When you explain you don't like being touched, they say okay and continue holding your hands. Sugar does get them to somewhat understand why you don't like being touched but the kids still mess up from time to time. Kids are clingy mofos and Cookie and Muffin are no different. They will bite adults that touch you in a way they deem incorrect, they're feral but lovable.

Croissant:

Researches everything about the ace spectrum and asks tons of questions. What kind of touch is acceptable? How long have you known? Do you still feel comfortable around him? Biggest and dorkiest ally to be found. Will share asexual facts with you that you might not know (you probably do). Will ask for consent before even entering your personal space. If you feel less comfortable with skin-on-skin contact, Croissant will start wearing more sweaters even in July. He will suffer if there's a slight chance you will embrace him.

Cocoa:

Damn that's rough buddy but directed at her. Clingy Mcgee will have to modify her approach a bit. She would never want to make her best friend uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. Will catch herself trying to grab your arm to get your attention and apologize profusely. Hopes you still want to hang out with her even though she slips up sometimes. Will shield you from any unwanted touches from the other cafe workers and curse them out.

Matcha:

Completely understands you not wanting to touch them, I mean they're so gross and you're so perfect. A deity such as yourself should not be worried about the common people, no you should be untouchable. Makes it weird real fast, like good you understand but quit moaning each time you get a head pat. May break your boundaries in hopes of being hurt but respects your wishes in general.

Shopkeeper:

Is neutral to it as they love you as you are. They would think it was adorable if you did cling to them but aren't devastated that you don't like touch. I personally think Shopkeeper is demi sexual, so they understand you not experiencing sexual attraction (even if they are sexually attracted to you). May tease you about being so "cold" to their advances. People who violate your minimal touch policy will end up in Shopkeeper's kitchen, and not come out.

Cappuccino:

Does not care, just not in a good way. Not about the asexual bit just the touch bit. They will nap on you whether you like it or not, you are their pillow. They will sit on you if it means you will stay (They're chonky so good luck getting out of there). Otherwise, they still want you by their side. Also not wanting sex is a win for them since they are too lazy to do anything.

Butch:

Butch would be concerned. Did someone traumatize you in childhood? Has someone touched you? You explain that's not the reason you're ace, and he relaxes. He does miss the idea of holding you close but knows he's not worthy of it (especially if he kidnapped you). You may have made this guard dog more overprotective over you as anyone who tries to touch you will receive a warning growl.

[scarfacemarston]

I saw your post about asking for headcanon requests, and I was wondering if I could get some Headcanons about Bucky with an Ace and Nonbinary partner? SFW please, Thank you!

Bucky x Gender Neutral Ace Reader hc’s

Sam introduced the two of you, and you struck up a slow friendship. He wasn’t the easiest man to get to know, but you knew there was more to him than he let on. Soon, that trust and friendship turned into something more, and now, you were quite pleased to say that James Buchannan Barnes was your partner.

Read Reader coming out as non binary and Ace to Bucky here.

Bucky constantly loses his clothing and has no idea why—until he finds you wearing his shirts or hoodies. They were comfortable, and it was comforting that they smelled like him—but you also liked how they made you look gender-neutral. 

Bucky would sometimes tell stories of the 1940s underground LGBT scene. He wasn't seriously active, but he did visit some gay bars, and he did have some male lovers. He spoke about how dangerous it was, but how brave he found all LGBT+ back then, which encouraged him to love more how he wanted.

You took Bucky to his first pride event, where he watched the parades and wore shirts and pins. You have an ace and gender-neutral badge and a pansexual one for Bucky. While he enjoyed the parade, he found the whole thing overwhelming. However, he was incredibly pleased to see all the joy and celebration that people like the two of you could have.  

You help Bucky acclimate to the modern day by exploring what New York offers, including cute outings like eating at a cat cafe or reliving some of his good memories by taking you to Coney Island.

You and Bucky shared a bed. It was nice to be able to enjoy each other's company without worrying if your partner wanted sex like past ones. However, the nightmares bothered Bucky, but they lessened around you. Showering together was also a relaxing and carefree affair. 

Bucky was never a huge cook but knew how to care for himself. It turned out that he discovered an interest in cooking while hiding in Romania. He managed to rope you into cooking as well, and soon, you were making things from comfort food to a few Romanian foods and, occasionally, a recipe or two he knew from the 40s that his ma made him.

Eventually, you were introduced to Yelena Belova, one of his teammates from the Thunderbolts. The idea of meeting her filled you with anxiety, but Bucky assured you that she was a dork, friendly, and ace to boot. Thanks to Bucky, the two of you also became friends and did everything from attending Pride events and talking about ace discourse to playing tourist together. 

Lots of cuddling. Bucky was a tactile child and young adult. Physical touch is his love language, both giving and receiving. However, after his time as the winter soldier, he was afraid to touch anyone and strongly disliked anyone touching him. However, in time, you helped Bucky slowly acclimate to positive touches again. From then on, he was always holding hands with you or wanting to cuddle.

Bucky loves documentaries. He loves seeing everything that has happened since the 40s, whether it's advances in science and tech—his favorite—nature documentaries or war documentaries. However, he sometimes got frustrated with war documentaries loudly critiquing or correcting mistakes in WWII or Cold War-era documentaries. 

You also enjoyed introducing him to your favorite music. Bucky was initially unsure about sharing music from his era with you as he was worried you'd make fun of it, but instead, you enjoyed listening to Peggy Lee or Judy Garland or, on other days, more vibrant swing pieces or love ballads. Bucky was both relieved and overjoyed that he could share something so comforting with you.

[tree0frog]

A rose by any other name

An alastor x gn ace reader

Red strings Au

chapter one

Chapter two

I am not responsible for what you read online with will thought heavy topic though out this is your warning

Will be posted each Sunday

Warning~will be update as each chapter goes out :)

Chapter list

Tag list