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ineffable-romantics · 9 months

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Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

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Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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To Mr. Gaiman, hi I’m so sorry to write to you and waste your time but I guess I just need to tell someone and you’re amazing and seem like a good bet. I’m a sixteen year old girl in America, and I’m gay sir. I’ve never told anyone that and that’s probably why I feel so alone, except when I read your books. Those are my friends. Coraline, Fat-Charlie, Door, Morpheus, everybody, even the you I imagine from all your essays. I don’t know where I’d be without you and your stories because they’re the best break from my life that I get and have been since I was really young. I’ve read a ton of other authors but there’s something incredible about what you write, it feels magical and unstable but it also feels so real and true and like the home I want more than anything. I’ve read each of your books and comics ( that I can find) dozens of times. You make me feel like I’m not alone, like I have friends, like despite everything the people around me say about people like me I’m not a disgusting freak, I’m just a person. I could be a villain or a hero or a bystander and it would be because of who I am not what I am. Thank you with all of my heart. I owe you more than I could ever give. I’m sorry that this isn’t a question. I wrote you a letter almost a year ago to get all my questions to you off my chest and even though I never heard back (I don’t mind, I don’t expect to) I don’t remember much of anything I put down. Thank you so much. Sorry again.

Have a wonderful day. Thank you so much.

From,

You are you and that's a good thing. I'm happy that the stories help. You are very brave and you will be fine.

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unseededtoast · 6 months

Text

Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together.

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can.

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush.

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere.

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes.

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace.

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly.

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around.

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other.

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face.

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity.

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together.

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #derek morgan #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #taylor swift #taylor swift inspired

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xpao-bearx · 1 year

Text

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 3 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!

Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!

I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!

Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland

Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide

After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.

You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?

Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.

And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?

You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...

Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.

God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?

But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!

Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.

It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.

Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.

You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.

♡•••🌙•••♡

You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.

And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.

You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?

"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.

"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.

The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.

You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.

You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.

"I'm right here for you, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.

"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."

"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."

"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."

Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.

He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.

"Hello..?"

"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.

A long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Fucking EXCUSE me?"

Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.

"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?

"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"

"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"

You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.

"Steven... It's Sunday."

Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.

"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."

"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."

You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.

"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"

"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"

"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"

"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."

Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.

He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.

"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.

Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?

He had everything to lose.

Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.

You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.

But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.

And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.

You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.

"Explain to me, Steven."

♡•••🌙•••♡

The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.

Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.

"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.

"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."

Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"

"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."

Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.

He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."

"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"

Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."

"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"

"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."

Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.

You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"

"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"

"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.

Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."

"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.

"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"

"Say what?"

"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.

'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.

But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.

"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."

"Steven, this is--"

"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."

"Summon the soup? What is happening--"

Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"

"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.

"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.

His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."

His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?

"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."

Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."

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piratefalls · 24 days

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welcome back to the latest edition of biweekly fic recs! as always, mind the tags, if you can't leave a nice comment don't leave one at all, and happy reading!

masterlist.

There's No Problem That San Diego Can't Solve by @historicallysam

Alex doesn’t even bother knocking; he simply twists the knob on the door and shoves it open. His eyes narrow as the door bangs against the wall and he sees Henry on the phone. Maybe (definitely) it’s rude but his blood is fucking boiling so he doesn’t really care.

All the Ocean was Sleeping by @sparklepocalypse

The worst part about being a siren in the modern era, Henry ponders as yet another ship flies past his cove at a speed that he knows will disturb the anemone gardens below, is the yacht bros. Between the sound of their vessels’ motors and the dissonant noise the humans call music, Henry’s singing has no chance of attracting anyone’s attention.

cause you're a classic, and i'm reckless by @firenati0n

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

Over Land and Sea by SatinBirds

Alex and Henry come from very different worlds, and still, they manage to find each other.

Clean Slate by smc_27

“Henry.” Pez comes over, puts both hands on Henry’s cheeks and looks him dead in the eye. “You are not a sad man who’s gotten dumped. You’re in the prime of your life, and I quite desperately need you to act like it.” “The prime of my life,” Henry scoffs, more incredulous than questioning. “I’ve just gotten out of a 15 year relationship, endured a divorce, am suffering an almost impressive case of writer’s block, and your hands are like bloody icicles.” Pez grins, doesn’t take his hands away. “Explain to me how this is my prime. Please.” Pez tilts his head, and sounds entirely serious when he says, “Literally anything can happen from here.”

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

here is a map (with your name for a capital) by @alasse9

That day at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics, Alex comes across the very same Prince Henry who just dismissed him having a panic attack in a bathroom. The choice Alex makes then has ripple effects neither of them could have ever expected. What's the story like, when they actually are friends all along? “So, you’re going back to England tonight, and you’ll spend the next three days pretending you two are the closest and best of friends until we can put this mess behind us.” And there are reasons he hasn’t told anybody this, good reasons, even though he’s sure June and Nora saw through him ages ago. Faced with his mom’s disappointment, though, and with the realization that the entire world apparently thinks he hates Henry and would willingly shove him into a fucking cake, he can’t stay quiet. “But we are friends,” he says, vehement and serious. “We have been for years. He’s—he’s probably my best friend, actually, along with Nora.”

thoughts of you consume by yrsonpurpose

Henry sees Alex appear on the red carpet in a blue suit that screams sex on legs and is ready to throw away all attempts at concealing their secret relationship in the name of dropping to his knees at the first available opportunity.

eyes on me by matherine

Alex’s hips buck back against Henry’s mouth the moment his tongue does more than tease, and Henry squeezes his hip in gentle consternation. But before he can say anything, Alex is already rambling. “Sorry, I’m — I’m sorry, I know you said not to move, and I’m trying, I — I’m trying to be good, I promise,” he blurts, voice shaking ever so slightly from something that certainly doesn’t sound like pleasure, resolutely refusing to turn his head so that he can meet Henry’s gaze from where he’s positioned behind him. Henry’s heart aches. “Alex — love, it’s alright. Where’s your mind?” Or: Sometimes, Alex needs a distraction. Something to take the edge off, to scrub away at the stress of the day. Some days, it works better than others.

the evolution of intimacy by Poutini

There’s no spontaneity anymore. One might think this boring. That the novelty had worn off. The spark snuffed. Absolutely not

Want Me by OrchidScript

Henry had always been weak for a nice smile, but his was impossible to ignore. Blame it on summer heat and a fresh flush in his cheeks. Blame it on sunset painting the outdoor bar sweltering, romantic colors. Blame it on two healthy glasses of albariño thrumming in his bloodstream, or the good music floating on the air. Henry could blame it on anything liked if he thought long and hard about it, but that didn’t change much at the end. The core remained the same: he had been gone from the jump. -- Henry and Alex hook up on a vacation in Spain. Henry falls a bit deeper.

fill my lungs with sweetness by @priincebutt

Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor wakes up at 3 AM on his birthday to an empty bed. What could Alex possibly be getting up to at 3 AM the night before his birthday? The possibilities are endless.

got myself in quite a tangle by coffeecatsme

"It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle." "Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch. "Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

The Forces of Chance and Coincidences by @stellarm

Bad weather leads to a late flight that leads to no one being where they wanted to be, but maybe everyone was where they needed to be.

I've never felt safer (than when I'm with you) by viciouslyqueer

Alex takes the bag and opens it slowly, careful not to rip it, and gasps quietly as he sees what’s inside. “H, you didn’t…” Strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, Henry’s chest warm against his back. “Do you like it?” Henry asks in a whisper, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex doesn’t know what to say. Gingerly, like he might ruin it with even the smallest touch, he takes out the silky fabric and holds it up in front of them. It’s a gorgeous dress, fancy too, in a deep red color with thin straps and an open back. It’s long, almost touching the floor even as Alex holds it up and has a slit on the left side that would probably end a little above Alex’s knee.

An Amateur's Guide to Professional Gift-Giving by anincompletelist

Alex, a former-law-student-taking-some-time-off turned professional part-time gift giver, is tasked with finding a gift for the most high profile client he's ever worked with, both in and out of the world of law. It turns out finding the perfect gift for the Prince of Wales might be easier than he'd anticipated.

Love At First Bark by everwitch

“I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

don't let me get drunk again by headabovethewater

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass. Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great. -- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Everything you take, you make it better. So go on, take forever by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged. But they will, just as soon as Alex can decide what to wear to his birthday dinner. Henry has an idea and a special gift to match.

false pretenses by rizcriz

Henry spins around, glaring at Alex. “For christs sake,” He hisses, holding a hand out between them. “Can we just not? I do not have the capacity to pretend to hate you today.” Alex splutters as Henry turns on his heel and starts to walk away. He stares after him helplessly. “Pretend?” After a beat, he starts to follow after him, “What the fuck do you mean pretend?” Three years of breathing down each others necks, fighting every time they come in contact with each other. And if Henry is saying every single thing on his end has been pretend, Alex Claremont-Diaz is going to have a fucking breakdown. Because he has been harboring this stupid fucking crush and burying it beneath false antagonism, meeting Henry where he’s at, for three years, and if Henry is implying that they’re both faking it— -- or, Alex learns better.

turn the desert to glass (you would be the one) by @taste-thewaste

Henry and Alex's domestic bliss has lead to some changes in Henry's body. Henry doesn't really mind being a little chubby, but he wonders if Alex does. Alex, it turns out, does not. Not one bit. He does not mind one bit, and he is more than eager to prove it.

coming on fast like good dreams do by cricketnationrise

When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face. “Run that by me again?” he asks faintly. “I need your help.” “Right…” “I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug. Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists, whether you're a reader or writer!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift @enablelove

#rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfiction #red white and royal blue #alexhenry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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unofficial-underfell · 1 month

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Hey guys, I've been thinking about making this post for a long time and I think its finally time I do so. After realizing that some of my last work was done over a year ago, I don't think I can really ignore it anymore. While I haven't quite thrown in the towel on this quite yet, it's pretty evident to me and I'm sure to everyone who still follows this blog that my fervor for the project has drastically decreased. And has been kind of dead for a while. The comic has not been a priority to me, or posting online much at all actually. I did some soul searching and found that I'd started relying on outside approval for my art instead of doing art for the sake of wanting to tell a story and express myself throughout my work. I have limited energy and depression and sometimes it feels like i get such little progress done even though it takes all of my energy. While I'm trying to go to the gym more and build better habits my energy levels and mood still have a lot to be desired, and I'd rather use the limited energy I have to work on something I'm more passionate about.

I've been trying to grow my skills and absorb more stories and I've moved around a lot and started to listen to what I really felt, and I found that a lot of the art I want to focus on deals with heavier and more mature topics. I do love this story, and all of the characters and I feel like I could make a really clever subversion of what is expected from an Underfell comic. But I feel like in these uncertain times with the world and with all of the stuff going on right now, I'd like to use my energy to work on stories that hit closer to the things that I feel are important. So that's why I've not been posting much.

I'm working on a book, and I've actually got quite a lot of progress done on it, but because of all the horror stories online about people stealing author's original works, I'm kind of holding off on publishing any chapters before I can copyright the first draft of the novel. So my online activity will still be pretty scarce for a bit, though I'll still post occasionally on my @cosmicpixel01 account. I'll try better to not be so radio silent though lol. Even if that means I'll post something boring about my dog or books I'm reading just so everyone knows I'm still alive.

I don't want to call it quits on the story. But I also feel like you guys have been kept waiting to see what happens for a really long time, and that makes me feel so guilty. I will try to finish up the pages I have in the works, and I'm probably going to switch to a different format that is some drawings, some writing to finish the story. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to finish it the way I intended for you guys, even with all of the support and kind words and even the fanart that I've kept in a folder on my desktop. I am letting a lot of you down, but I feel like the radio silence is probably more irresponsible than just going out and saying something. And I'm sorry I've kept you all waiting for a not-so-happy update on the blog.

I hope that some of you will continue to follow me for some of my other exploits and see whatever other things I have going on, but I understand that you all followed me for Undertale so I don't want you to feel any sort of guilt if you decide not to. I'm just happy you all supported me for so long.

I'll try to work on this blog again soon, and if anyone has any questions, my asks are open, though I'll probably keep the asks private. Until then I hope everyone stays safe out there. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

-Avery

#not pages #unofficial-underfell #this was so hard to write i dont want to be a quitter but I'm tired #avery speaks

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aleakybiro · 10 months

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Aromantic ppl need so much more rep. Not just for themselves but like for the good of the world.

As a romantic asexual, figuring out what I am caused me a lot of stress at first. How could I ever have a relationship if I couldn't live up to the expectations of one? Long story short, that turned out to be a good thing bc realising your relationships can't be typical means that you have to define what they mean yourself, and that's honestly really freeing.

But what helped me get to that point was reading about things from the perspective of aro ppl. They won't have a partner in the typical sense so aros build their lives around their other relationships and passions.

And i think that's honestly so important. Even for allos, for everyone. Because we as a society place too much value on one type of relationship. People think being single means being alone. That if you're gonna live with someone they have to be a romantic/sexual partner. And like, why? Maybe it's fine for us to live with our friends if that's what feels better. Maybe you're not alone without a partner because you have friends and family who love you. Why does a partner even have to be romantic?

Point is, basing your plans on one person and making them the one to fulfill all your needs is pretty harmful. All the people in our lives, all the different relationships we have meet different needs and that brings balance. Your friends can be the most important relationships in your life. You can pour your passion into your hobbies and interests because aros aren't people without love. They have just as much love as anyone else, and that love is just directed more into other things.

This perspective changed my life. I'm closer to my friends. I don't obsess over romance anymore. There is so much meaning to what I have right now and I don't need romance, I'm in no rush anymore. And it's all cause aromantic people have the courage to come out and say "we can love, we do love. Look at how much love there is in the world."

So yeah, I think it would benefit so many people to see things this way. To see it in media instead of the main character always needing a love interest, instead of the kiss being this magical thing that fixes everything.

And also, rep for aros and aces shouldn't just be "oh this person is focused on their work so they're probably aro/ace". Rep should be people who are out, or an arc about their feelings towards sex/romance. Rep should be aces who aren't aro and vice versa. Cause the amount of difficulty it would have saved me if i'd just seen people like me a bit more. I want the younger aces to see themselves so they don't have to go through that same difficulty.

Anyways thanks for listening, happy pride! Love comes in many forms!

#asexual #aromantic #aroace #aromantic asexual #pride 2023 #ace #aro

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

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am I the asshole for backing out of dm-ing for a campaign?

🤖⚡ <- so I can find it later

characters in story (fake names)

me (17m)

cory (19x)

sara (19f)

gray (21x)

I was recently invited to a DND campaign by some people I'm friends/acquaintances with on discord.

For some context, this campaign would be mostly played by first-timers, had a little under ten people, and was mostly comprised of adults. It's a cyberpunk universe extremely different from the standard dnd story, with expansive lore and worldbuilding.

Cory, a friend-of-a-friend suggested I join as I'm a creative and they were interested in seeing me participate. Shortly after I joined they expressed a want for a DM, which I offered to be. I've DM'ed twice before, but only for small groups with standard stories. I assumed that's what this would be, then I was pinged with around 10 multi page google docs, reddit posts, etc. And then around five more people joined.

I invited my friend Gray who has more experience in DND than anyone there, and they joined. Gray doesn't know the group besides Sara briefly, but was happy to participate since they liked the plot synopsis I sent them.

Gray was routinely ignored by everyone except me whenever they talked, and were often railroaded by Cory during character creation anytime they were given the time of day.

I messaged Gray apologizing for it after it happened twice, explained I wasn't close with most of them, etc. Gray was sympathetic and agreed to stay since they had faith in me DMing and the story.

Today I woke up to multiple cases of Gray being ignored. In another server I told Gray I was unsure of my DMing skills, which they understood and suggested I drop out if needbe. I agreed with this. I planned to do it in a day or two,

But this evening I was pinged by Cory suggesting we start the campaign in a week, which is something I absolutely cannot do.

I put my foot down and explained that as a junior in highschool I don't have the time or energy to read thousands of words, write a plot for a couple sessions, and organize the maps for the sessions. I apologized for promising to DM, then dropping out.

Cory was understanding, but Sara, a close friend who knows me a lot more, began saying things like "We need to find someone to DM or all hope is lost" (I am paraphrasing) which caught me off guard. I asked if I could still remain in the server since I really enjoyed the plot and Cory said "If people are okay with it."

I'm honestly pretty hurt by that. To think these people were only going to allow my company if I managed the entire thing is pretty hurtful, but then again I did volunteer. The entire campaign was Cory's idea, so I'm still pretty taken aback they were expecting someone else to DM period. Gray has suggested they and I do a campaign independently which I'd love, but I still feel like I failed Gray and Sara by not delivering the dungeon master I promised.

TLDR, I offered to DM for a group I'm not very close with before realizing it was more than I could handle, and dropped out without much notice.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ihavethedreamies · 3 months

Text

Within an Inch of Your Life | Shownu

Son Hyunwoo (Shownu - MONSTA X)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI!!

Word Count: ~4.6k

Pairing: Shownu x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Romance, Some Angst, Very Little Plot, Very Dirty

!!This is SMUT...if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now. This is lowkey-highkey filth. Plain filth!! Some angst in the beginning but it goes away.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M!Receiving), Deepthroating, Fingering, Pet Names (Pumpkin, Princess, Sweet Girl, etc.) Very Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom or the like. Reader is on the pill in this story.)

Author's Note: This is my first fic, holy cow. I've written others but this is the first I will be posting considering I have well over 200 notes on my Shownu appreciation post. I actually wrote this a few months ago but just go around to making sure everything makes sense. I do not have a Beta…because that was always what I did…I was a Creative Writing Major and since I have never been docked in grade for grammar or punctuation errors, I think I'm qualified.

Uh, you just learned a lot about me just by the fact that I wrote this >.>

I am cross-posting this on Archive under the same name. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on Tumblr my name and icon are exactly the same on the other two sites. Happy reading!

You stared at the ceramic cup on your bathroom vanity, the cheap blue toothbrush glaring back at you. It sat in there amongst your own teeth cleaning products, mocking you. The bright color stark against the black and white of everything else in the bathroom, even your own toothbrush. Reaching out you placed your own that you had just finished using in the cup and grabbed the blue one. Staring down at it, you weren't sure how to feel. It had been a few weeks now, since it's been used. And it never will be again. Blinking, then sighing, you left the bathroom, stopping next to the trash can outside the door near the kitchen. Your foot rested on the paddle used to open the lid, inhaling and exhaling, then pressing down. Your hand holding the toothbrush lingered over the gaping bin. Swallowing a lump in your throat you didn't expect to be there, you gripped the brush tight. Emotion whelmed in you, but you couldn't pinpoint what kind. Were you angry? Guilty? Sad? Fuck it. You harshly threw the brush in the can and let the lid slam closed when you took your foot off the peddle.

"What's with the aggression?" Hana called to you from the other side of the apartment where she was on your couch. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up from her sleeping perch.

"Don't worry about it." You were still staring at the trash can, now closes. You heard her bare feet patter on the hardwood floor, and she comes up to you. She blew her nose into a napkin she grabbed from the counter behind the can. You stepped out of the way to let her throw away the used paper.

"Oh." Realization hit her. She saw the toothbrush, which was the only thing in there. You moved away and into the kitchen to get your coffee ready as she took a place on a stool at the counter.

"What even happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you two break up?" she asked you and you exhaled. Grabbing a coffee mug, you put the cup on the perch of your coffee maker and pressed the largest button. You didn't answer.

"Was he bad in bed or something?"

"No."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"No."

"Controlling? Possessive?"

"No. Not really."

"Then why? You don't seem all that torn up about it."

"It’s a bit of a relief…"

"A relief? Why?"

"I…I was pity-dating him."

"WHAT!?"

"Calm down. He had been in love with me for years, and I felt bad for turning him down so much…Also, I was, frustrated without Young Hoon being here…"

"So, you used him? That's harsh."

"Look, he wouldn't leave me alone, kept asking me out, getting me things. Might as well make it easier and say yes…"

"So, why did you break it off?"

"I didn't."

"He broke up with you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I told him."

"Told him what?"

"That I was pity-dating him…"

"Fuck. That must have been rough."

"Yeah." You stared down as the swirling liquid in your cup, having stopped stirring the cappuccino mix in.

"I felt so guilty, I had to come clean." You rested back against the counter crossing your arms, somewhat hugging yourself.

"Why? Why not just break up with him? You had to tell him?"

"Yes."

"What made you do that?"

"Because…" Your words get caught in your throat, the realization hitting you.

"B-because. I can't lie to those I love." Your voice cracked and her face softened.

"You fell in love with him."

"Y-yeah."

"Then why not stay in the relationship?"

"I don't want a real relationship with him built on a lie. I had to come clean." You stood up straight, ignoring your drink and going to sit on your bed. You buried your face in your hands, your throat caught as you swallowed, your eyes burned.

"Oh, girlie." Hana followed you, sitting on your bed next to you, and pulling you into a hug.

"I'm such a fucking horrible person." You sobbed, and she rubbed your back.

"I love him. I do. I was in denial. It hit me so suddenly and so hard, I think I must have felt that way longer than I realized. God, forgive me." you cried, and she held you. Her phone went off as your sobs subsisted as she went to answer it.

"Shit. I have to get to class. I'll message you later." She kissed your forehead and gathered her stuff, leaving your apartment. Leaving your cooling drink on the kitchen counter, you curled up in bed and fell back asleep.

~*~*~

"(Y/N)!" Hana slammed her palm on the door, ringing the bell a few times. She knew you were home. She could see your bag and keys on the table through the window. You hadn't answered her calls or texts for three days and wouldn't answer the door.

"Hana?" A man's voice caught her attention and she turned to see Hyunwoo coming up the stairs to get to the second-floor apartment.

"Shownu! What are you doing here?" She quieted her voice, not sure how you might react if you heard. She knew your recent lack of actions was due to the breakup, and your revelation of feelings for the man.

"I was going to get my stuff and leave my key." His voice was noticeably flat, and the woman couldn't read his expression.

"You have a key!" Your friend lunged forward, snagging the set of keys from his hands. She shoved the metal into the lock and opened the door.

"(Y/N)!" she shouted, storming in.

~*~*~

You buried deeper into your pillows and sheets as Hana banged on your door. You didn't want to see anyone, not even her. You felt you didn't deserve her comfort. You were a shitty person who did a shitty thing. You flinched when you heard a key in the lock, wondering who the hell was there. Hana didn't have a key, and only your aunt did as the landlord. You had given the second key to your ex…to Hyunwoo.

"(Y/N)!" The other woman's harsh shout broke the silence you had been dwelling in. You hoped your uncle was there too, who else would have let her in? You are jarred to attention as your friend yanked your comforter off of you and the bed.

"What?" you snapped, and she climbed on the bed, flipping you over and forcing you to sit up.

"You bitch! You left me on read!" She put you in a playful headlock and ruffled your unkempt hair. You had showered, but a hairbrush? Who is she? You shoved Hana off, and she got off the bed, stomping away. When she came back you heard another set of footsteps along with hers, too heavy to be your aunt.

"The only way you are going to get over this pity party you threw yourself is by telling the truth!" Hana snapped, dragging your now ex-boyfriend into view past the half wall that separated your sleeping area from the living room. He stood there, staring at you. You wouldn't meet his gaze. Hana moved into the kitchen, looking in the fridge and hastily writing stuff on your grocery list pad.

"I am going to go buy you food, you two better talk!" She pointed at you sternly, then at him, and then left. You are left in silence with him.

"W-why are you here?" Your voice was scratchy, your mouth dry.

"Came to get my stuff." He nodded toward the dresser drawer where his stuff was.

"Ah." You licked your chapped lips. You hadn't drunk or eaten much in the last three days. He could tell, he knew you well. He left your direct line of sight and went to retrieve a bottle of water from your fridge. He came back and jutted it into your face. You took it, not meeting his eyes. Your small sips turned into big gulps, the cool liquid a sweet relief.

"What was Hana talking about? You telling me the truth?" Luckily, you had swallowed before he asked so you didn't choke. Closing the bottle, you threw it further up your bed. You brought your bent legs up, your knees touching your chest. You chewed on your thumbnail, not knowing how to start.

"You wanna tell me why you broke my heart?" His tone was harsh, a tinge of sadness in his tone. Your breath caught, the stinging in your eyes came back.

"It would have hurt less if you just broke up with me. But telling me you only dated me out of pity? I love you; I have for years-"

"I had to tell you."

"Why?"

"I couldn't keep lying."

"Why not? You had been doing it for nearly seven months." His voice was sharp with anger.

"I-I cannot…" You swallowed a lump, fighting to not cry, "I cannot lie to someone I love."

You're not sure what his reaction was, you didn't look up at him.

"What?"

"I couldn't keep lying to you. I love you-" You didn't even get the chance to work up the courage to look at him. His hands went quickly to your jaw, hauling you close, up and out of bed. His lips found yours. The kiss was different from all those before. You could feel how strong his emotions were. He was rough, domineering, barely letting you breathe. His tongue wrapped around yours, sucking you in. He was practically bent over you, being nearly a foot tall, your neck tipped back far to make up for the rest of the distance. You whined, your hands gripping his shirt from under his jacket. Hyunwoo swallowed you and every little noise you made. As he pulled away, he bit your bottom lip, the tang of blood hitting your tongue. He stepped back abruptly, running his hand through his hair.

"Fuck. Don't play with me." He shook his head, and you sat back on your bed.

"I'm not. I didn't…I only realized a few days ago how I felt…"

"What am I supposed to with this, huh?" He paced a bit, roughing his hair up.

"Do what you want. Whatever you decide…" You drifted off, not sure what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to kiss you again. But you felt you deserved him leaving and never talking to you again. You felt he should break your heart, like you did him.

"Part of me wants to walk out of here and never think about you again." He finally said and the words pierced you. A tear rolled down your cheek.

"Another part of me wants to give you another chance…" You closed your eyes, willing the tears back.

"But there's something else I really, really want to do." You heard him come closer but refused to look at him. You gasped as his hands dug into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, making you look up at him.

"W-what?" His lips were so close to yours and while you're not sure what he wanted to do, you wanted it too.

"Please, whatever you want." You whispered, but his lips didn't meet yours. His tongue doesn't stroke yours. His mouth went to your ear…

"I'm going to fuck you within an inch of your life." You gasped at his words, then found yourself briefly in the air as he threw you back on the bed. Hyunwoo tore his jacket off and finally brought his lips back to yours. His strong thigh jammed between your legs, rubbing against your core, covered only by your thin shorts. His large hand ran down your thigh, hitching it up to his and he grinded his growing hard on into you.

"Fuck." You whimpered as he pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting your lips. He stared at you intensely till he dipped back down, He latched onto the weak point on your neck, under your jaw, almost your throat. His mouth sucked hard then he bit the flesh making you shiver. You lay there and let him do whatever. He left scathing kisses, sucking bruises onto your skin. They were everywhere: your neck, shoulders -once your shirt was off- your chest, breasts, ribs, stomach. He avoided anything covered by your tiny shorts, giving you more marks on your inner thighs. Your skin was on fire, and you didn't think you cum with just that stimulation, but you were close.

Hyunwoo sat back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head and never before had you been so enthralled. Your type was normally guys that had a dancer's body and were pretty, nothing like him. He was devastatingly handsome and while you normally wouldn't care for the taught pecs, ridged abs and sharp v-line of his hips…He truly did look like sex incarnate.

You wanted to sit up, reach for his belt, pull his pants down and let him fuck your throat. But he was in control, entirely. You weren't exactly ever a dominant lover, not really even a switch, but this time it was wholly up to him what happened. Your mouth watered at the sigh for the first time though, your romantic feelings fueling your sexual ones. He undid his belt and removed his jeans, his hard cock tenting his boxer briefs. Was he always that big?

"Something wrong, pumpkin?" You could hear the smirk in his voice. Due to your previous feelings, or lack-there-of, you never really gave him a good look. He was just your brother's stupid friend. You were getting a real good look in now.

"Y-you, uh…" Your mouth watered.

"Wanna taste?" He gripped himself over the fabric and you nodded quickly. He huffed in amusement. Despite the fact you loved a dick in your mouth, you had never done it to him. Didn't let yourself, lest you get hooked. He motioned with his head for you to come closer and you crawled across the bed to where he stood at the foot of it. Your bed was the perfect height to allow your face to be perfectly level with his cock. You let out a whimper and he titled his head, watching in amusement. With shaking hands, you reached for the waistband of his boxers and carefully pulled them off. Your mouth watered as he was revealed to you.

"Fuck." You exhaled, watching his dick bob in the air as he stepped out of his underwear. Wiggling your jaw back and forth, you thanked the stars that so many strep-throat tests as a kid killed your gag reflex. You couldn't believe that he had been inside of you before. It made you wonder if your stomach bulged from his girth.

"You just gonna stare?" He stepped closer and you scooched the little bit closer you needed to. Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, Hyunwoo exhaled in relief, and you groaned at his taste. You rolled your tongue around him like a popsicle, and he tipped his head back with a sigh. Without going much further than the tip, you sucked hard and pulled back. This made him bury his hands in your hair to prevent you from going anywhere.

"What?" He tilted your head to look up at his face.

"Fuck me. My mouth." You cleared your throat, and he blinked in shock before a devious smirk broke out on his handsome face.

"Really? You sure?"

"Please, please-" You opened your mouth as wide as you could, and he slowly thrusted his dick into your mouth. The deeper he went the more saliva built up in your mouth, starting to drip. The head reached the back of your throat and he moved to pull back his hips, but you stopped him. Your hands flew to his behind, pulling him closer.

"Fucking hell, (Y/N)." His voice had a hint of a whine to it. He was the perfect length. Your nose hit his pelvis, his cock buried in your throat, but not too deep. While somewhat restricted, you could still breathe when he would pull back; that fact made your walls clench, aching to be filled as well. You shuffled a bit, splaying your knees more, lowering you just a bit. This let him angle his cock down a bit more and you looked up at him expectantly. He practically growled at this and began to thrust into your mouth. Tears spring to your eyes; you weren't sure if it was from what he was doing or the fact that it was happening at all. Drool dripped down your chin, tears from your eyes, and wet from your cunt. You wouldn't be surprised if when he came -down your throat preferably- that you too would climax. His thrusts picked up some, got shallower and his grip pulled at your scalp. The slight sting from your hair, the fat head of his cock battering your throat, and the taste of his precum was sending you into overdrive. While not one for sado-masochism or bondage, a little pain was nice. In the back of his mind, Hyunwoo marveled at the fact that you had not gagged yet. He was too focused on the wet vacuum of your mouth to think about it too much though. The sight of your lips swallowing his swollen cock over and over was orgasmic in itself, but the looking your eyes was what sent him over the edge. They were glazed over in pleasure; you already looked so fucked out.

"(Y/N), can I come inside?" He grunted out and you moaned, wanting nothing more.

"Ah fuck." His hips stuttered and you felt the hot, thick cum spray down your throat. He was so deep you almost couldn't taste his release, which…Just. Kept. Going. You swallowed what seemed like over and over and over before he was done.

Hyunwoo pulled out slowly, his cock still half-hard. You caught your breath, finally getting a normal amount of air. Your core was quivering, and you knew you had cum as well from the amount of wetness stuck to the fabric of your shorts. That and your head was swimming.

"Oh, princess." He shook his head, breathing hard himself. You peered up at him with a dazed look and he had never seen you like this. He had seen you close to like this once, your true submissive nature blooming forth. He knew you would let him do anything he wanted, and man was there a lot he wanted to do to you. He had promised to fuck you within an inch of your life, and he was going to make good on it.

"What do you want me to do to you now, sweet?"

"Anything." You keened and he groaned. Then he remembered something. While you had never said it before, he knew you had a thing for hands. You had told him once he wasn't allowed to wear rings because it made his fingers look too good. How easily would you fall apart on his fingers? How many times could he make you come tonight?

"You still on the pill?"

"Yea."

"Good." He hadn't brought any condoms, not thinking this was going to happen when he left his apartment this morning.

"Scoot up." He ran the back of his finger over your cheek, still damp from tears and you scurried up the mattress. You lay back as he climbed over you; he watched you watch his hand move to your core. He raised an eyebrow as he stroked over the fabric of your shorts. You tended to get very wet very easily, but this was much more than usual.

"Did you cum?" He asked and you nodded sheepishly.

"Oh my god." He dove in, latching onto your lips, not caring that you had just been sucking him dry. Your teeth clacked against his from the messy kiss. His kisses moved from your mouth, down your neck and he settled on your throat again. You were already littered with hickeys, but he was ready to leave more. As he marked your further, he pulled your shorts off roughly, a slight ripping noise coming from the seams. He tossed the last piece of your clothing away, you never slept with underwear on. Finally, his fingers touched your bare pussy and you whined.

"Oh (Y/N)." He chuckled, burying two fingers in your hot cunt, his thumb finding your swollen clit. You released a long shaky moan, clenching around the digits. He found your weak spot quickly and your hips tilted up, your back arching. You wanted desperately for him to pull his fingers out and fuck you with his delicious cock already, but you refused to say anything. This was for him; he could do whatever he wanted to you, and you would thank him. How had you not realized that this man was the sexiest one on the face of the earth? The pads of his fingers rubbed against your g-spot in just the right way, and it was driving you crazy. His two fingers moved separately, the way they curled and thrusted making the sensations unpredictable. He added a third and spread them, getting you ready for his huge cock. You could feel the strength in his hands, you felt his knuckles rub against your walls, and his palm grinded against your clit.

"H-Hyunwoo!" Your hands landed on his chest, your nails digging into the skin, your release building faster than either of you expected.

"Cum for me, sweet girl." And you did. The breath was knocked out of your lungs, flashes of white dotted your vision. You heard him chuckle, but it sounded like he was far in the distance, rumbling through the air and cutting through the ringing in your ears. When you came down from your high, your vision sharpened and you saw him smiling down at you. He came closer, bumping his nose against yours, touching his forehead to yours.

"I love you." he whispered, and you hitched a sob, reaching up to cup his jaw. Your thumbs stroked the arch of his cheekbones.

"I love you too." He kissed you softly, his fingers leaving your pussy. His hands cupped your thighs, hitching them up to wrap around his waist. You pulled back from the kiss with a gasp as he stroked his cock against your cunt, fully hard again. Hyunwoo knew he was teasing you, rutting against you, covering his dick in your wetness but refusing to enter you.

"Please, please, please." You began to beg; you weren't even close to ashamed. You needed him inside of you, rearranging your insides, carving himself into you, ruining you for everyone else. His hands came up to yours that were still on his cheeks, wrapping his fingers around yours, and pinned them up by your head. With great dexterity, he shifted his hips and began to slip inside of you, still holding your hands. His lips hovered over yours, not quite meeting, your mouth hung open in a silent moan as he split you in half. Not only had it been a while since you two had sex; you hadn't gotten yourself off either. No fingers, no vibrator, nothing. He groaned as he settled deep inside of you. The head of his cock almost touched your cervix, your walls gripping him tighter than they ever had before. Your legs held him close, your ankles linked, it seemed your body refused to let him go. He just sat inside of you, giving you small kisses, letting your walls get used to the stretch. His cock was so deep, it felt like he was in your throat and the delicious burn of the stretch was addicting. It never felt this good before, you used to think the idea sex felt better the more you loved the other person was bull. No. You were in euphoria, and he hadn't even moved yet.

"Can I move?" he asked, resting his forehead on your collarbone. He really just wanted to fuck you into the mattress, but he wanted this to last as long as possible.

"Yes." you gasped out, preparing for him to knock loose your kidney but he barely pulled out and then slowly thrust back in, grinding his pelvis into yours. Even this slight movement knocked the wind out of you. The next thrust was a bit faster but just as shallow and his breath mixed with yours as he hovered over you. Not pulling out any further, his hips pumped hard, and you threw your head back. Hyunwoo moved his hands from holding yours to wrapping one around your wrists. His free hand moved to your lower back to shift you some. With your legs wrapped around his waist, when he sat up on his knees more your butt left the bed; he handled you into a near mating press. Somehow, he got deeper, and you knew if it was a thing, your cervix would be bruised.

"I don't think I can hold back anymore." He grunted; his eyes closed in concentration. What the hell were you in for if this was him holding back? He had never taken you like this before. You 'made love'. This, this was him fucking you, like he promised.

"Do what you want." you pled. He had stopped moving and you desperately needed him to keep going.

"You have anywhere to be the next few days?"

"No?"

"Good, because I don't want you to be able to walk when I'm done with you." He gave you a devious smirk, pulling away to rest back on his heels. His strong hands dug into the flesh of your thighs where they rested at his side, holding him to you. You let him move them and exhaled harshly as he forced your knees to your ears, completely and easily folding you in half. Still not moving his hips he leaned down so he could speak right into your ear.

"That pill better work good because I'm going to pump you full of my cum." He thrusted, hard. If your breath hadn't left your lungs, you would have nearly screamed. It wasn't a shallow hard thrust like before, no; he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back in. You could tell how tight your walls were clenching him, desperately trying to hold him in. Not able to tell what part of you wanted him more -your psyche, your heart, or your cunt- you just knew you never wanted him to stop.

"Hyunwoo-" You weren't sure if you could say anything but his name, but his next thrust stopped all thoughts.

"I want my hand shape to be bruised into your skin." He clenched your thighs under your knees.

Another thrust.

"I want to brand you with the feeling of my cock in your cunt so only I can ever satisfy you."

Thrust.

"I want to fuck you on every surface of this apartment." As he recited every filthy desire straight into your ear, he pounded his fat cock so hard into your pussy, you thought he would split you in half.

"I want to paint your skin with my cum and then fill you back up again in the shower."

"I want to fill every part of you that I can. Your pussy, your womb, your mouth, your throat. If you let me, I'll even bury my cock in your ass and paint you white there too."

Your head swam with each word. He was always so sweet and soft before. This was different, he had turned into an animal, and he was determined to fuck you like one.

"I'll do it all. Everything I want. I promise, I will fuck you within an inch of your life."

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #monsta x smut #shownu smut #son hyunwoo smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #monsta x fanfic #shownu fanfic #shownu x reader #x reader #kpop x reader

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teruel-a-witch · 11 months

Text

some choice caps with real captions from The McDanno Wedding Date™

considering someone had to pick and match the camera shots with the audio/voice over, a lot of interesting editing choices pop up 😏

actual lyrics that play over the scene in the beginning 'i will love you longer than forever'

witness the marriage? i sure am. THEE marriage.

the way camera keeps cutting away to them when love is mentioned

whose love? what are you trying to say to us with this editing? 🤔 the way episodic tv works is we have the main characters and the episodic characters and usually the storylines episodic character get are meant to parallel what is going on in life of the mains or teach them a lesson or help them come to a decision.

this episode already has drawn parallels between aunt Deb and Steve, and her relationship to Bob with Steve's 'not-marriage' to Danny. and then they keep cutting away to them during the marriage ceremony with some of the wedding vows written as if about Steve and Danny's relationship ('I can't even remember my life before you came along and changed everything.')

again, camera firmly on them at 'my one in a million and all I want is...' the way that sentence ends is, I am not kidding ↓

'...to be your husband'. 'you are my one in a million and all i want is to be your husband'.

'you are my one in a million and all I want is to be your husband.'

that is the message they are sending while intercutting the newlyweds with Steve and Danny, only to end everything on a shot of very emotional Steve, close to tearing up, as if highlighting that we are seeing it from his POV.

if you think they are some pirated automatic captions that mean nothing, well

here's the kicker, 100% official approved.

the story of Aunt Deb is hopeful despite circumstances, that happiness can be found when you least expect it, and everyone has their own, unique

paradise. Hawai'i is commonly referred to as a 'tropical paradise', Danny famously called it 'pineapple-infested hellhole', it only gained the positive meaning for Steve and Danny after they found each other.

Steve and Danny really went to a wedding together and were constantly edited to parallel the newlyweds-to-be. Anyone may argue that I'm just reading into things but it's a fact that nothing on TV is accidental. Someone made all those choices that could be interpreted this way and I find that very interesting indeed. 😏

#mcdanno #h50 meta #very serious scene analysis ™#myh50 #my meta #h50 #hawaii five 0 #h50 5x08 #h50 season 5 #mcdanno wedding date #mcdanno wedding dates #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #h50 caps #h50 quote edit #h50 parallels

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the-depths-au · 4 months

Text

FAQ

*this post continues heavy totk spoilers

How did it start?

A lot of people started posting some really cool art of a TotK ending where Zelda returns as a hybrid dragon creature thing. I saw a few that called it a “bad” ending and I noticed she was often portrayed with dominantly human-features just like, with horns or a tail, or the purple eyes, etc. I love to play video games(clearly) and I enjoy the challenge of seeing various endings, not just “secret endings” (think Heavy Rain, Until Dawn, The Witcher 3, Drakengard- anyone else play this?) I got to thinking about how her coming back didn’t really like a true “bad ending”. To me, a bad ending, really, would be one in which she didn’t get to magically, miraculously come back in any form. A bad ending to me would be Mineru’s warning held true. And in doing so, it would become The Legend of Zelda because she becomes the stuff of myths. Of true Legend. Fulfilling destiny (botw-era and the series as a whole). My brain sort of took off from there regarding the implications this would have on Hyrule and specially, our boy Link.

How could you! A Bad ending? Is this story at least hurt and eventual comfort??? Does it have a happy ending??

I could tag this hurt and comfort, but usually people who read these types of stories have certain expectations of what “comfort” is (and that’s okay!). Same with a “happy” ending. I don’t need stories to be wrap up in a bow with warmth to enjoy them. Honestly, some of the stories that have touched me the most over the years have had “sad” endings/negative character arcs/tragedy. That being said, I don’t particularly enjoy pure whump, either. What I feel is most important and what I am to do with this story, is to make any suffering meaningful. With purpose. And hopefully- maybe- you’ll see the “comfort” that is possible even in these types of stories.

Wait! So Zelda remains a dragon?

Yes. They defeat the demon dragon. Rauru and Sonia appear in a silent thanks, then they disappear and Link falls from the sky alone into the water. The Light Dragon continues along in her flight above him.

Link is also the only one who can see/has ever seen the Light Dragon.

Are there any other major changes from TotK?

It follows the game pretty closely. It’s just hard to say exactly what is in this story from TotK because there is just so much. In BotW, I headcanon Link took his time. He doesn’t remember anything. He is alone, lost, and the world is a vast, broken place. Therefore, it is plausible/ realistic in my head for all the side questions to be done prior to the ending being reached. In TotK, especially with the headcanon he and Zelda were together in the time between BotW and TotK, I had a hard time imagining Link would waste much time on anything unnecessary to save Zelda. So, with this in mind, I’ve had to justify the side questions to include in the story. Link’s journey is a bit different than my own. Whereas I actually spent 80% of my playthrough exploring the depths, this Link only went down when necessary. Meaning many of the lightroots have not been unlocked and he only has part of the armor of the depths. In the Linktober and the early concept, he has the entire set but this has been changed for the main comic.

How far after the events of TotK does this take place?

Five years.

Is it completely planned out?

Yes. I have a complete rough story outline done. It’s 17 chapters. I am anticipating some editing as I go, but regardless, it’s a big project. A huge shout out to @zeldaelmo and @fioreofthemarch for helping me get the story set. They are both phenomenal writers for the LoZ fandom so be sure to check them out!

What happened to the comic?

I made the decision to tell this story (initially) in writing. I have a very specific style in mind for this story as a full comic and honestly, I just don't feel like my artistic ability and overall proficiency is where I want it to be at this time. I'm still learning! I will be continuing to post art, concept art, and some comic panels here as I go and eventually, I would love to adapt the story into a full comic, but for now, I'll be telling the main story in writing.

How long have you been drawing?

I’ve been drawing all my life. Just for fun, although I took a few classes in school. Digitally, self-taught, since fall 2022. Still very new to this with lots to learn! I have a minor in creative writing and feel much more confident and comfortable with that.

Feel free to send me a DM with questions anytime! I plan to update this periodically.

Last updated 2/26/24

#FAQ

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allmoshnobrain · 4 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 23 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3319 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Finally, I spotted him, chilling on a couch in the corner, rocking a beer and a smoke as his serious eyes stared at me. My heart tightened seeing him like that; normally, when he saw me, it meant smiles and a hug. Now, however, he just watched me, his cool blue eyes meeting mine from across the room. I held his gaze for a while, my face turning a bit warm as we looked at each other. Heart skipping a beat, I wondered: was he gonna brush me off? Stand up and bail, pretending I wasn’t even there?

✦ summary: Reuniting with James forces Nore to confront the complicated feelings that arose after their kiss.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, smoking, recreational drug use

✦ a/n: Hello! I'm finally on Christmas break and have lots of free time, so I'm trying to write as much as I can! I'm really glad I could post this chapter before the end of the year, and I hope it won't take me too long to post the next ones :) We're on the final half of the story, and things will get a bit more intense from now on. So, how do you think James and Nore are gonna deal with their feelings from now on? I'm really excited to write about it! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is welcome and motivates me a lot! ❤

✧ I want to be the girl with the most cake / He only loves those things because he loves to see them break / I fake it so real, I am beyond fake / And someday, you will ache like I ache ✧

It didn't take too long for me to catch up with my friends again. Just a bit over two weeks post-Leanne's birthday bash, Cliff gave me a ring with some exciting news: the band had landed a gig at a renowned venue in Los Angeles, and if the first show drew a good crowd, there was talk of a repeat performance to wrap up the year.

I hadn’t crossed paths with James since he had kissed me; gotta admit, the idea of facing him after all that had happened had me feeling a bit uneasy. But I was hopeful that, when the time came, we could have a conversation about it. I just hoped we could keep our friendship. There were many things I could handle, but losing him for good was not something I was ready for.

The band needed to fill the place, so Cliff asked if I could bring someone along. I ended up inviting Pat, my friend from the record store, to join me at the show. I mean, asking Dave was out of the question; as time went by, he was getting more and more bitter every time Metallica came up. Even though he wasn't thrilled about me going to the show, having a companion seemed to ease his mood a bit. Ever since I came home with a bruised hand from having to defend myself, he seemed to gradually become more protective and concerned every day. I knew he'd rather I not navigate crowded spots alone, especially at a metal show. But, when it came to Metallica, his wounded pride still had the upper hand.

I met up with Pat right outside the record store before the gig, so we could go to the venue together. She greeted me with the biggest smile, her blonde locks and blue eyes all dazzling.

"I'm so stoked!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing with happiness as I handed her the ticket and the backstage pass. "I've never had backstage access before. This is gonna be rad!"

"Yeah, it's cool. But don't expect anything too fancy; we usually just score some drinks and access to the dressing room," I said, throwing out a strained smile. I tried not to let the nerves creep in about seeing James again, but now that showtime was approaching, my anxiety was cranking up by the minute.

"Oh, don't be a buzzkill," she pouted. "You’re in a bad mood today? Aren't you happy to see your friends?"

"Sorry, Pat. I'm just kinda on edge," I replied with a sigh. Despite really liking Pat, I wasn't up for diving into the whole James-kiss situation with anyone. Truth is, I had been mulling over it way more than I'd like. Couldn't wait to clear the air with James once and for all.

We rolled up a bit later to the venue, and there was already a decent line of fans. It always blew my mind how they had just dropped their first album not long ago but were pulling in a hype crowd that was growing by the day. I could sense the West Coast getting too cramped for whatever they were cookin' up. And, like always, no need to wait in line for us; the IDs whisked us straight backstage, where the guys were getting their act together, getting stage-ready, and already a bit toasted.

I couldn't really zone in on the whole scene that kicked off with Lars, Kirk, and Cliff swooping in for the welcome party; drinks were handed out, cigs were fired up, and Lars, as usual, threw in his cheeky comments ('hey, your friend's a total babe!'). But honestly, none of that was grabbing my full attention. My eyes were on a mission, desperately looking for the only person I wanted to see. No matter how much I tried to fool myself, all I cared about was making sure things were cool between James and me.

Instead, he just got up, strolled over, and handed me the beer bottle.

“Want some?” he asked, throwing a faint smile my way. I blinked, kinda surprised. The way he talked, it was like nothing had happened. Like he never had kissed me. Like I never had bolted out of Joe's kitchen, leaving him all alone.

But, hey, wasn’t that exactly what I wanted? For things to be normal again. For us to stick to being friends, no drama.

“Of course. You ever see me turn down a beer?” I replied with a grin. He let out a soft chuckle and handed over the bottle, his cold fingers brushing mine for the briefest fraction of a second before he brought the cig back to his mouth.

Before long, the venue staff gave us the heads up that the show was about to kick off. The guys wrapped up their final checks, and Pat and I joined them, enjoying a beer by the stage. Pat was all hyped about it; even though she didn't know the band, she was really getting into the music, full of the enthusiasm you'd expect from a dedicated fan. As for me, I was a bit more reserved this time. Don't get me wrong, I was always happy to catch up with my friends, but I couldn't ignore how uneasy I felt, especially when I noticed James's glances, splitting his attention between the crowd and shooting looks my way, a silent storm brewing in his blue gaze.

After the concert wrapped up, he handed his guitar over to a puzzled Kirk, not even bothering to look at him. He headed my way, big steps and a bit of annoyance wrinkling his forehead; at that point, I was almost sure he was going to cup my face in his hands and kiss me again. The idea had my face turning hot, my heart racing, and the palms of my hands getting sticky with nervous sweat, recalling the feel of his lips on mine. Instead of that, he just stopped and locked eyes with me for a moment, carefully studying my face before saying:

“So? How was the show?”

“It was awesome! You guys rock, I loved it!” Pat exclaimed, all excited, breaking the momentary electricity that had arisen between us two. James raised an eyebrow, curious, as if just now realizing she was there, and shot me a puzzled look. I just shrugged, wearing a slight smile.

"It was killer, like always," I said with a grin, and he shot one right back at me. There it was — the familiar, genuine smile I'd been missing all night. I couldn’t help but feel relief wash all over me when I saw it.

We wrapped up the night at some random downtown bar. Most of the time, I stuck with Pat since she only knew me there. A couple of beers, a joint, and watching her all hyped up did the trick; I started to unwind, and soon enough, I was enjoying the night with a lightness I hadn't felt in ages. Had a cig between my lips, just chilling and keeping an eye on the guys from a distance. Cliff and Kirk were deep into some serious chat, sharing a joint. Lars and James had found some fans from the show, cracking up and talking loudly while passing around a bottle of vodka.

"Can I ask you something?" Pat threw out. I shifted my gaze from the scene, catching her curious, kinda fuzzy look — probably thanks to a bit of the booze. Before I could even answer, she kept going: "What's the deal with you and James?"

"Me... and James?" I raised my eyebrows, totally caught off guard. She nodded, a little smile playing on her lips. "We're... We're friends."

"And that's it?" She raised an eyebrow, and I furrowed my brow.

"Of course, that's it, Pat! You know I'm dating Dave."

"Yeah, I know. It's just..." She started, letting her eyes wander over to Lars and James before turning back to me with a mischievous grin. "He's quite the looker. Mind if I flirt with him a bit? Just for fun, you know."

I blinked, caught off guard, and then burst into laughter, my face heating up in a mix of surprise and confusion. Out of all the scenarios playing in my head for that night, Pat showing interest in James was definitely not on the list.

“Sure, why not,” I said, and she shot me a smile before strutting in the direction of James and Lars. I watched her go, a little smirk on my face, a tiny pang of envy sneaking into my chest. Maybe life would be more of a breeze if I could summon that kind of confidence in myself so easily.

"So now you're playing matchmaker?" I heard Cliff's familiar voice, and I looked up to meet his brown eyes staring at me. I grinned as he lit a cigarette, handing it to me before popping the top of the beer can he had in his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better. And you?"

"Are you sure?" he raised an eyebrow. "Last time I saw you, you weren't very happy."

"Yeah, felt a bit down after... you know, what happened," I confessed with a sigh. "But I think that's all settled now, isn't it?"

Cliff didn't seem entirely convinced. He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing out before he reached out to me. I took the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to my lips.

"I thought James liked you," he commented, his attentive gaze fixed on my face. I shrugged.

"Maybe he does. But you know I have a boyfriend, Cliff. Maybe it's good for him to be distracted by some other girl for a bit," I said, and Cliff snorted.

"Not even you believe that, Nore."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think? Are you sure about what you're doing, throwing your friend at him like this? Or will you regret it later?"

"Why would I regret it?" I furrowed my brow, then stared at him defiantly. "I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"If you say so," he shrugged, taking the cigarette back from my hand.

I watched him walk away with a frown, scanning the area for James, my stomach churning uncomfortably when I couldn't find him anywhere.

We bounced out of the bar late at night, still riding high on excitement and energy, a bit too drunk but not giving a damn about it. Lucky for us, the guys were staying at a friend's house nearby, and a quick call to Pat's dad had us sorted for a ride home from their place. I said my goodbyes to the guys and enjoyed the cruise home. Pat, usually a chatterbox, was oddly quiet on the drive. When I nudged her about James, she blushed so hard I couldn't help but crack up.

When I got home, I made a beeline for the shower. The hot water washed away the remnants of the night's boozing, helping me unwind and finally realize how tired I was. I slipped into my PJs, hopping into bed next to a knocked-out Dave.

I let out a soft chuckle when his arms wrapped around me, his lips landing on my neck. It was like he had a sixth sense that woke him up the moment I was back, even from the deepest sleep. Like he just knew I was nearby. How could I think of anyone else when Dave loved me like this?

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice all sleepy, planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“Hey,” I replied with a smile, turning in bed to face him. I swept his ginger hair away from his face, and he grumbled before pulling me closer, burying his face in my neck.

"Missed you tonight," he murmured, his raspy voice making me shiver in the best way. "Glad you're back."

"Course, I'm back," I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. "We’re not gonna fight tonight, right?"

"Hmm..." he grumbled, his lips making their way up my neck until they met mine. His hands grabbed my waist as he settled on top of me. "No fights... got something else in mind."

I laughed into his kiss, my face warming as he turned up the intensity, making my whole body heat up. In that moment, wrapped up in his arms, I was sure I was loved. I was sure he loved me. And that was, and always would be, enough.

Or, at least, that's what I told myself.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

Text

That Brunch

So I'm still skirting round filling the requests in my inbox - they're crawling their way to completion, but my muse is flitting between ideas, hence, I've somehow ended up with another little follow up to a previous fic Between The Lines.

~*~

“You promised you’d tell me!”

Melissa could feel a blush that couldn’t be blamed on the mimosas creeping up her cheeks. So far, she’d largely managed to avoid bringing up the subject of how you and she had managed to get together, but Barb was right. She had indeed promised her the whole story.

“You at least have to tell me who made the first move.”

The red head felt her blush deepening. She ducked her head, biting her lip as she tried to figure out the best way to tell her friend the story of you and her. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of your relationship. Not at all. But she was perhaps slightly embarrassed by throwing herself at you lips first.

“You did?” grinned the kindergarten teacher, not needing Melissa to speak to read her answer in her reaction. “Oh now you really do need to tell me.”

It was with a fond smile that Melissa finally looked back up at her friend. “Well, you know we’d been spending time together, lunches, the farmer’s market, that kinda thing? All platonic at that point! Anyway at some point I must have mentioned a book that I read years ago, and that if I came across it I’d love to read it again. I’d almost forgotten about it, but then one day she comes in and hands me the book. She’d seen it in some second hand store and picked it up. It was such a small thing, but I dunno, it just…something shifted and I stood up and kissed her then and there. I didn’t even think about it, I just kissed her.”

Barb looks across at her friend, drinking in every word. She takes in the soft, warm tone of her voice, the matching smile and sees that her friend is absolutely smitten.

“I mean once I realised what I was doing I bricked it, went to run outta there, but she just put her hand on my arm, said if a book was all it took to get me to kiss her she hoped it had a sequel,” she finished softly, picking up her glass, almost hiding behind it.

“I know you’re not going to like it, but I’m calling the whole thing cute,” smiles the older woman. She laughs as Melissa scrunches her nose in disapproval. This wasn’t her usual story of flirting her way into a fling, or being flattered enough by someone coming into her to spend the night with them. This was different. “You look happy with her, even talking about her.”

“I am happy,” admits Melissa quietly. “And I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t tell anyone. I was in this little bubble where it was all great and I didn’t want that to burst.”

“And then the funeral happened.”

“And then the funeral happened,” nodded the red head. “That, let me tell you was an intense way to meet the family.”

Barb held up her empty glass, signalling the waitress to bring a refill. She watched as her friend promptly emptied her own glass and also held it aloft. It wasn’t called a bottomless brunch for nothing and this was a story best told with a drink in hand.

“Y/N?”

You look up from your book to see an older man standing beside the open window of your car. Or rather, Melissa’s truck. “Uh, yeah?”

“Sorry, I just recognised the truck,” said the man. “I’m Gerald, Barbara’s husband.”

Quickly setting down your book, you turn your attention to the man. “Gerald! I’ve heard only good things.”

“I’m pleased to report so have I. Barb speaks very highly of you.”

“Then consider me flattered,” you tell him honestly. “Really.”

He smiles at you. “She thinks you’re good for Melissa.”

That you were not expecting, and you find your mouth hanging open in surprise. “She does?”

“She does,” he nods. “And having seen Melissa recently, and seeing you now, I find I have to agree.”

At this, you frown.

“Can I be honest?”

You nod.

“I never liked Joe. More precisely, I never liked the way he treated Melissa. He was crass, selfish, downright cruel sometimes. If he ever had to collect her, he’d pull up and if she wasn’t outside waiting for him, he’d be barging in and practically dragging her out. That or he’d drive off and leave her.”

Your frown only deepens. “He did what?” The thought of ever just driving away and leaving Melissa standing alone and abandoned hurts you to even consider.

“Yeah,” nodded Gerald. “Lost count of the times I’d take her home or take her back with Barb and I if she knew it was going to be stormy night and she didn’t have it in her to face it.”

Your frown gives way to sadness at the thought of Melissa not even wanting to go home. “Thank you,” is what you say, after a pause. “For being there for her.”

The smile he gives you is wide and genuine. “I think I like you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” you smile back, the moment broken by a loud peel of familiar laughter. You both turn to see Barb and Melissa stumbling out of the restaurant, clearly having tested the ‘bottomless’ aspect of brunch to its limits.

“You let her drive?” laughed Barb as she caught sight of the two of you, leaning on Melissa for support. “Sure she’s old enough?”

The red head slapped her friend’s arm for her cheek. “Hey!”

You and Gerald share an amused smile as the pair continue to make their way across the car park. The make slow progress, but they make it. In between many hugs and promises to do another brunch soon, the pair of you get your respective partners into your vehicles without incident.

Waiting at the junction, you turn to look at the read head.

“I love drunk Barb,” she grins. “She gets sassy.” She turns to face you, her head lolling against the head rest. “I love you too.”

You lean across to press a kiss to her lips, ignoring the honking of the car behind you. “Love you more.” You mean it too. This woman crossed continents with you to be by your side during your grandmother’s funeral. She faced meeting your family at the worst possible time. Asked nothing in return. And here she is, happy all because you waited outside for a few minutes to collect her from lunch.

This woman deserves the stars, and while you might not be quite able to reach that high, it’s not going to stop you from trying. You’ll do anything to try and be worthy of the beautiful smile currently being aimed at you.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #look who's learning how to use links like a big girl

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apollos-olives · 4 months

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thank you for answering my ask. i didn't want to make any assumptions nor did i want to harm or offend you or anyone who is queer by sending it.

I myself am Muslim and I have met Muslims who are queer, trans, part of the lgbtq+ but i never really understood their understanding when it came to Islam and homosexuality as few of the Muslims I've met were practicing and most seemed to deny many parts of Islam to justify being queer which didn't make sense. Your response has made me understand it though and I do appreciate it as the concept of homosexuality and Islam is almost 90% discussed by people/scholars who are not queer.

I am by no means trying to turn this into a religious discussion because I am not learned but what you said about a singular sin being a singular did stand out to me. Although I've always known that as a fact, I've never actually took into consideration what it meant in it's entirety, although Islam does have the concept of major sins and minor sins, so wouldn't that have an impact?

But again while I was reading your answer, I found myself nodding because your response was very much logical and made sense to me. You mentioned that everything that is a sin has a particular reasoning behind it and that homosexuality being a sin has no real reasoning behind it and I don't have anything to refute your point with. But I will bring lgbtq+ activists who discuss things like being queer, homosexual, trans, etc to children as children can be influenced easily (btw I'm speaking specifically about people like Jeffery Marsh) into the discussion as something I disagree heavily with.

Many scholars have also discussed story of prophet Lut (AS) which really is the only story where homosexuality is ever mentioned and while I do agree that the homosexuality aspect of the story is focused on more than what is necessary, if the homosexual part wasn't important would it then be put in the Quran. And if homosexuality was not a sin, then shouldn't their be examples of homosexuality in the Quran or hadiths? I don't expect this to have a concrete answer as even I will admit that I can use this "what about" argument for literally everything that is not directly mentioned in the Quran.

The one thing I do disagree with is the transitioning of trans people - not because I don't believe in gender dysphoria or that I disbelieve in people being transgender - but I do believe that the permanent altercation of a person's body is haram because although you stated that perhaps transitioning might be the best option for people who are trans and you compared it to people who are disfigured (as an example) to me it still seems as an act that goes against God's will because doesn't Islam have the concept, that the more difficult the struggle, the better the reward? Forgive me if this is a terrible assertion to make as I am speaking from a heterosexual point of view and my understanding of your struggles will not be the same as actually experiencing your struggles.

At the end of the day we all are Muslim and I am a firm believer that as long as no one purposefully tries to harm Islam and spread misinformation, only God can judge. I do not agree with majority of Muslims who deem it appropriate to condemn people to Hell simply for existing as I do believe that people who are not heterosexual 90% of the time are not making their struggles up, nor are they making false claims. Regardless of my opinion on whether or not homosexuality is a sin, I admire your attitude towards it and I do believe that Allah loves all. Allah is All-loving after all and Allah does not make mistakes nor does He intentionally do things to harm anyone.

Thank you for your perspective and for teaching me something I genuinely did not know. I hope that this ask does not come across as hostile because these are simply my thoughts and I am more than willing to open my mind to different perspectives.

i'm glad you're being very respectful with your disagreements and i'm happy to answer anything as long as it's in good faith. thank you for being so kind :)

i will say that yes you are right that many queer muslims are not practicing and often stray away from islam to justify their queerness, and i've seen it happen from a lot of queer muslims around me. i do believe it's not because their faith is weak or that they purposely are doing it with the intent of malice, but i think it's because a lot of people have trauma when it comes to religion. religious trauma affects many people in the world, even outside of islam. almost every queer muslim i've ever met has been religiously traumatized, and therefore are afraid of islam and the people who practice it out of the concern that they may be harmed again. while islam is beautiful, the people who practice it can harm those who do not follow it properly in their eyes. i personally have religious trauma that my parents gave me over being queer, but i've moved on from it and have accepted myself regardless. unfortunately that is not the case for every muslim, and queer muslims especially are targeted and harmed more and more as of recently. because of that religious trauma, queer muslims are likely to stray away from allah and islam because they associate islam with their mental, emotional, and bodily harm. and i absolutely understand it as well. not everyone will get it, but it's understandable how you will want to stray away from religion when it has only harmed you. i believe that is the biggest factor when queer muslims deny parts of their islam in order to "justify" being queer.

you are right in that islam does have major sins and minor sins. of course, i am not a scholar so anyone could correct me if i'm wrong, but while there are major sins and minor sins, i still believe that sins are singular. to me, a major sin would affect like... a persons own moral judgement about their actions, if that makes sense? like a major sin would weigh down on someone's chest more than a minor sin would, and would therefore make the person want to repent even more. while all sins count the same, some have more of a guilt to them that may affect a person and their relationship with allah. me eating gelatin isn't going to be as heavy of a sin on my shoulders as, for example god forbid, me stealing from orphans, right? they're both sins and equal in count, but not equal in weight. if that makes sense? that's how i view it. a major sin affects a person more personally and affects their relationship with their deen and their relationship with allah, rather than count as more or multiple sins on their shoulder. you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me, this is just how i view it. alhamdulillah god gave us all our own minds to think and make decisions and beliefs and values for ourselves.

i personally don't know who jeffrey marsh is, but i do understand your concern about children. the thing is, children can be queer too 🤷‍♂️ i found myself being attracted to the same sex as young as 3 years old. i, of course, did not realize there was a term for this until i was 11 where i fully came out as queer, but i felt horribly repressed and did not know what those feelings were until i was told that they were normal to have. so i do believe that at least exposing children to the fact that "hey, queer people exist and that's okay :)" is... okay 👍 yk? and of course, exposing children to stuff that is sexual and inappropriate is wrong, no matter if it's heterosexual or homosexual, but i don't believe any queer person is advocating to harm any children by telling children about basic queer education. there IS a lot of queer discourse over this within the lgbtq+ community, and discussions about whether or not children should be involved are still happening to this day. you can feel free to have your own opinions, but you must respect others beliefs as long as they aren't harming anyone. personally, i think it's okay to expose kids to queer media and reality, as long as they are not forced to. kids are naturally curious 🤷‍♂️ let them explore. if more queer media was available when i was little, i would've for sure have come out as queer when i was muchhh younger even. and 11 was pretty young anyway lol. the thing is, being queer isn't inherently sexual. there are different types of queerness and a lot of it isn't sexual at all. there's romantic love, platonic love, aesthetic love, etc etc etc. implying that being queer is solely sexual only harms the community more. i'm asexual (as a general term), which means i do not want to have sex. ever. i just look for romantic relationships instead. there are different types of queer love and not all of them are sexual. is sex a big part of queer history and liberation? yeah. but is being queer just about sex sex and more sex? absolutely not. being queer is about accepting yourself for who you are. and why not show kids that? why not allow kids to explore and accept themselves for who they are as well? the moment people realize that the queer community isn't inherently sexual and that queerness is for everyone to feel accepted in, that's when we become more and more liberated. and the thing is, you don't see heterosexuals get the same problem with children though. heterosexuals always get to kiss in public, hold hands, get married. they dominate the whole world. no one has ever been discriminated against for being a heterosexual. heterosexuals see a boy baby and a girl baby play together and be like "oh my god they're boyfriend and girlfriend lol!" ... like... is that not forcing children into romantic situations and possibly implying sexual stuff too?? how is it fair that heterosexuals get to "force" their children into being heterosexual but god forbid a homosexual holds hands with their partner in public while minding their own business, yk? no one is forcing children to do anything. we are just trying to expose the reality of what we are facing to the world so they can realize we are normal and can accept us. no one chooses to be queer or trans. no one chooses to live a life of pain and struggle and oppression. we feel love the same way everyone else feels love. do heterosexuals get to choose who they fall in love with? no. love isn't a choice. love just happens. you can't force and choose someone to love someone else. love is unconditional and free.

as i said before, homosexuality was never mentioned in the qur'an. the word used in the qur'an does not mean homosexuality, it was talking about the indecent and horrific acts of rape, pedophilia, premarital sex, infidelity, etc that the people of sayedna lut (as) were doing. and while we've already talked about how homosexuality is not a sin, i do want to mention that the swana region has a very rich queer history to it! i personally am not very knowledgeable about this but i'm sure if i ask the right people, if you want me to, i can give you resources to learn about queer history around the islamic countries. before colonization and western ideals had been spread through the land, swana was a very queer place. so while homosexuality was never mentioned in the qur'an or in the hadiths or whatever else, queer people have been existing for thousands and thousands of years. we have always existed and will continue to. i'm not sure if this story is true but i believe prophet muhammad had an experience with some trans or "femenine men" during his time? in any case, i think looking more into queer history would be great to learn more about how islam and queerness are related to each other.

your concern over trans people transitioning is understandable. while i've already explained it before, i think the best way to think about it is like. trans people are often suicidal. the percentage of trans minors who commit suicide each year is genuinely horrific. if transitioning is the only thing that can help them become healthy again, then allah will allow it. allah wants the best for us and wants us to be happy and healthy. being trans is a health and science related issue. i don't really know how to explain it to you since you are not trans yourself, but please try to understand that you honestly might never actually understand what it's like. being trans is a type of experience that differs for everyone, and if you aren't trans yourself, you may never understand what it's like to feel the need to transition. transitioning is hard, it's long, the process is incredibly expensive. no one is doing it for leisure. people do it for their health and to become healthy again. isn't it haram to not eat pig if you're starving and on deaths door? didn't allah say it's haram for you to not eat or drink something, even if previously told not to, if it'll save your life? didn't allah say that you can do anything to your body and break any rule as long as it's for your health so you survive? being trans is like that. often, transitioning is something that is for health, not for leisure. i can't explain what dysphoria feels like, but it's miserable. it's always being afraid of calls because you are afraid of speak with your voice because it sounds wrong to you. it's wanting to dig your nails into your skin and tear off your flesh because you hate it you hate it you hate it. it's wanting to grab a knife and chop off parts of your body. it's wanting to scream and sob and rot. it's wanting to wear extremely unsafe tight clothing to try to look the way you want to. it's wanting to vomit every time someone calls you the wrong gender. it's the horrific feeling of utter dread hearing your deadname from people you love. it's the urge to just end it all. it'd be so nice to just end it all. if no one will give me what i need, the best option is to end it all. it's horrible and awful and there is nothing to fix it. it only gets worse and worse in most cases, to the point where people start harming themselves and many trans youth end up killing themselves. is it not haram to forbid people from getting treatment? no matter how much that changes them? isn't it all in the name of health and safety? yes, allah said that the harder the challenge, the more rewards you get, but allah did not make us to suffer. allah is already challenging us by making us trans in the first place. that challenge is lifelong, even if we transition. discrimination is still a challenge and still kills people every day. allah loves us and wants the best for us. i don't expect you to completely understand, since you aren't trans yourself, but this is how much it affects us. transition is necessary and it MUST be available for people to receive. and even if you still don't agree... so what? who are you to judge and decide who and who doesn't get to do what they want with their own body? everyone owns their body and ONLY their own body. no one should judge or condemn anyone else for doing what they want with their own body as long as it's not harming anyone else.

we are all muslim, and we all must support each other, no matter how different our views are, because allah loves us all and wants the best for us. thank you for asking, this is a great discussion to have :)

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