#gay women having deep conversation > everything else

[springwitch26]

hots for teacher (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 2

summary: you've been infatuated with melissa schemmenti ever since you worked under her as a student teacher. what will happen when you meet again a few years later?

warnings: NSFW content, implied future smut (part 2 on the way??), praise kink, age gap idk

notes: hi everyone! my name is april, and this is my first ever fanfiction. i wrote this for fun and then decided to share it with the community, because i love the little gay women in my phone! i've been reading fics on tumblr for as long as i've been on the internet, so this is a strange experience for me. anyway, enjoy, and let me know what you guys think!

tonight you looked sexy, and you knew it. you wore a sinfully short black dress with colorful butterflies. it was one of your favorites; it showed just the right amount and hugged just the right places to be tantalizing. your eyes were painted with thin black wings and soft, glittery eyeshadow that made you look like a sweet dream. your lips glistened and your hair was tied up in two dutch braids. you were a vision.

all this meant that you were not the least bit surprised when a deep, sultry female voice sounded from behind where you sat at the bar.

"it should be illegal to look like that in public."

you smiled coyly and turned around to face the stranger.

"why? see something you like?" when you turned to face her, however, you were met with a familiar face. it was a face you'd seen in your dreams time after time: your former boss, melissa schemmenti.

you had been assigned to work with melissa as a student teacher while you were in school for your teaching certification. at the time, she was teaching two grades simultaneously, so she was grateful to have you there to ease the burden. it didn't hurt that you were always so eager to please. you wanted to learn and become the best teacher you could be.

of course, your motives weren't entirely pure. you were attracted to melissa from the moment you saw her. you remembered it like it was yesterday: her flaming red hair was slightly messy from trying to wrangle her double class, and her glasses sat askew on her nose. then you came along and turned everything around. she would give you to-do lists, and you would finish them before lunchtime the same day.

"great job, hon! you're so good, don't know what i'd do without you..." she'd say each time, beaming with pride at her new prodigee.

"o-of course, ms. schemmenti. what else can i do for you?" you'd respond, blushing profusely at the praise and struggling to hold her intense gaze.

within a week of having you, melissa was caught up on all her work. she couldn't help but feel like you were an angel, or some kind of gift from god. whatever you were, she cherished you. as the two of you spent more time together, she started to want you more and more. every project, every conversation, every smile you two shared only added to your chemistry.

she had fun with it--teasing you with special pet names and praise, watching you get all flustered and squirmy. she knew you liked her back. you weren't the most subtle about your desire.

melissa would never act on her feelings, though. you were a doe-eyed twenty-something with big dreams, and she was your much older boss. getting involved with you would be too messy. but she always held out hope, even after you left abbott, that one day you'd meet again.

you studied melissa's sly smirk for a moment, in disbelief at your luck. it had been two years since you left abbott. you had your own big girl job now, and you were a bit more mature. there was nothing stopping you from acting on your desires.

"oh my god, ms. schemmenti! please, have a drink with me. it's been a while." you hoped you didn't sound too desperate, although you definitely looked desperate once you got a good glance at her.

her look was striking. your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned her form, dressed in red leather pants and a button-down shirt. her arms were visibly muscled, even through the jacket. the black button-down shirt she wore was unbuttoned just enough to tease her cleavage. around her waist was a thick black belt that you wanted to pull on. her fiery hair was tied back haphazardly in a high ponytail, just messy enough to be sexy. and her hands—god, her fingers were long and ringed and—

"whatever you say, kid," she shrugged and sat down next to you, giving you a playful smile. "and you can call me melissa now."

she had a mischievous glint in her eye, probably knowing how you felt just by the wanton way you stared at her. when she sat down beside you, you felt your whole body heat up. your thighs were almost touching from the proximity, and you could smell her intoxicating perfume with each inhale. feeling her body so close to yours had you more drunk than the alcohol. it didn't help that her eyes now roamed over your body shamelessly, taking in your glistening lips and lingering on your soft cleavage. you tried your best to play it cool.

you talked for a while, catching up on everything. you told her about your new job at a suburban elementary school, your volunteer tutoring on the weekends, your summers in the mountains. she beamed with pride hearing of your accomplishments.

"that's great, y/n! sounds like you're goin' places."

"thank you! i think i owe a lot of my success to my student teaching experience—everyone at abbott was great, including you. especially you," you looked at her with an intense gaze, feeling your desire catch up with you.

"you were such a passionate mentor. you just had this way of getting me excited..." you trailed off as you fixated on the stirrings of a smirk on her face.

"...excited about learning," you finished shakily.

"mm-hmm," she chuckled.

maybe it was the alcohol, or the simple fact that she was right next to you and seemingly devouring you with her eyes, but you became bolder then. you only had one shot at this.

"i mean, you really touched me in a way that nobody else could," you leaned in, dragging out your syllables for emphasis. "i worked so hard because i just needed to be good for you."

now she was the one shuddering. you had the upper hand, if only for a moment. but she quickly got her boldness back.

"i noticed that. always so bright and attentive. i bragged to all the other teachers about what a good girl you were." to top it all off, she punctuated her sentence by placing her hand firmly on your knee.

you thought you were going to explode right then and there. your skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch, and you spread your legs ever so slightly to indicate your consent. her face split into a smug grin and she began to crawl her fingers up your thigh, agonizingly slowly.

your response came as a shaky whisper. you were sure you must have soaked through your panties just from her teasing touches.

"it's good to know that you thought so highly of me. i looked up to you a lot," you said sheepishly. "um, i'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but i did have a bit of a crush on you..."

"oh, yeah. that doesn't surprise me. don't be embarrassed, hon. you can't help what you feel," her hand had stalled at the midpoint of your thigh, and she looked at you with sincerity.

"it doesn't surprise you?" you asked, struggling to get the words out once she resumed stroking your thigh.

"i had my suspicions," she said with a knowing smirk. "i'm sharper than i look, ya know."

her darkened eyes sent shivers down your spine. you felt your core heat up at the humiliation of knowing she knew exactly what you thought about her.

"am i that obvious?" you asked, somewhat breathily.

"oh, sweetheart," she laughed. she leaned in close and you could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. her fingers pinched the skin of your thigh as she whispered to you. "you sat five feet away from me for months, always wearin' those little black skirts. you think i didn't see you rub your thighs together every time i gave you praise?"

her hand now caressed your inner thigh softly, teasingly. you failed to respond, trying to process her words but finding yourself unable to do anything but whimper almost silently.

"so soft here. mhmm," she husked into your ear. there was a hint of giddiness in her voice, as if she was pleased with herself for taking you apart so easily. "does that feel good, princess? do you like it when i touch you?"

"yes!" you said, almost too loudly for the public setting. "yes, i like it very much."

"good," she whispered as her fingers found the edge of your panties. your thighs spread even wider, and you let out a small gasp.

"we've got lots more to catch up on, don't we?" she continued, her fingers drawing feather-light circles over your clit through the fabric. you wondered if she could feel you throbbing for her. your hips bucked up to meet her hand, and she slapped your thigh in warning. "if you wanna keep talkin', we can head back to mine..."

you turned to her with big, glazed-over eyes. still whimpering, you nodded rapidly, earning a laugh from the older woman. she grabbed your hand and guided you out of the packed bar.

"i'm gonna wreck you, hon," she mumbled without looking back at you.

#melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti/reader #melissa schemmenti x you #wlw ns/fw #kinktober #abbott elementary #fanfic

[oh-stars]

Say It

Love is terrifying.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1547 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

--

Eddie will be home soon. Steve’s stuck on the couch, elbows on knees and chin in his hand, as he watches the door. He’ll be home soon and Steve can’t run away from this conversation anymore. 

It’s been years since the world tried to end, since they fled Hawkins even. A lot has changed for all of them. Nearly all the kids have graduated high school and Dustin’s already out of undergrad. Erica has early acceptance at Harvard, Lucas and Max are at Duke, Mike is at Emerson, Will is at Berkley, and Eleven is working hard to get accepted at Emory for their nursing program. Robin’s working at the Met, Nancy’s at the Times, and Eddie’s been recognized in a tattoo magazine for his work. 

They’re all getting older, growing into their own people and finding their way in life. 

And then there’s Steve. 

He works at a gym as a personal trainer and he’s working with Robin’s partner, Janine, to open up their own gym so that they can make a safe place for everyone, but especially women and other gay people. He has so many ideas, but he knows they aren’t as cool or esteemed as his friends’ career choices. 

No matter how many digs he gets about his choices and being a dumb jock, Steve likes the flexibility and power his career gives him. He feels good about it. 

It helps that it gives him a purpose and reason to keep his body in fighting shape. Just in case. 

Steve looks down at his watch. Ten till. Eddie will be home soon. 

Why is he doing this? He could be doing literally anything else with his night, but now he’s subjecting himself to a potentially miserable and devastating conversation that could end the world as he knows it. 

Jesus, he’s been spending too much time with Robin lately. Catastrophizing every interaction he has, like a single conversation could hold that much weight. 

Except… This one does. If it goes wrong, if Steve missteps and assumes something he shouldn’t, then he risks the entire friend group collapsing in on itself like a dying star. And now he sounds like Dustin, maybe he just needs new, less dramatic friends all together. 

Oh, who is he kidding? He loves these weirdos with everything in him, they make him full, filling all the nooks and crannies of scars and gashes his past has left him with. It’s like they super glued him back together, a porcelain doll made stronger by the care of his friends. 

Steve runs a hand over his hair, scrubbing at his face. Fuck, maybe he’s spent too much time talking with Mike, with all his prose and fancy speak. He’s absorbing way more of his friends than he realizes. 

He glances back down at the watch. Only a minute has passed. 

This feels cruel. 

It’s not even a special occasion. There’s no insistent need as to why he has to talk to Eddie tonight. He just can’t take it anymore. 

Actually, Steve wonders if this is the right move at all. Should he wait until Eddie’s settled in? Ambushing him when he comes home is kind of a dick move. Oh god, he’s gone about this all wrong. He’s for sure going to blow it now. 

He looks down at the folder sitting on the cushion beside him. It’s bold, it’s presumptuous. It’s putting everything he has into one suspicion. 

No, he has to do this. 

They’re at a turning point, at the end of this chapter, and it’s now or never. Steve can either be brave or take the cowardly route and live in this limbo for the rest of his life, potentially ruining the best thing he’s ever had. 

Five more minutes. Eddie will be home in five more minutes. 

Steve’s knee bounces as he takes in a deep, shaky breath. He can do this. He’s got this. It’s just Eddie and the biggest conversation they’ve ever had. 

Or rather… the only conversation they’ve ever had. 

Okay, obviously they’ve talked but it’s rarely anything serious and usually the only serious things they do talk about are Upside Down related. Steve has accepted this, it works for them, but at the same time… If they don’t have this conversation, he may implode from the inside out. 

He just wants to know what they are. 

They’ve lived together for nearly five years, their routines and lives revolve around one another. Everyone they know, treats them like they’re a package deal because they are one. You don’t invite Steve to watch the big game without Eddie tagging along for the snacks or Eddie going to a concert without Steve and his trusty headphones. They’re typically completely in sync. 

But even more than that, Steve’s pretty sure they’ve been dating for six years without saying a goddamn word. 

Steve can’t remember the last time they slept in separate beds – including when Robin sleeps over, all three of them squished into one of the beds. And while they have separate rooms still, Steve can barely distinguish between the two. They go on dates, they cuddle on the couch, they’re always touching one another. 

And the sex! 

God, the sex is so good. Steve’s never had this amazing of a connection with anyone. Eddie treats him with the perfect balance of care, even when they try riskier things there’s always an undercurrent of care and… 

Love. 

Which is why he’s almost certain that this conversation, this first big one, should go well. 

So why is his stomach threatening to revolt against him? 

The door knob turns with three minutes to spare. He kind of wants to scream, to beg for more time, while simultaneously ready to cry with relief. 

Eddie opens the door, drops his bag at his feet and pauses when he sees Steve waiting. “Everything okay?” he asks as he slowly puts his coat up. 

He’s fought monsters. He stood up to his parents. He can do this. 

Steve stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I have something to ask you.” 

Eddie slowly raises one eyebrow, but nods cautiously as he closes the door. “You’re scaring me.”

“I think it's a good thing,” Steve says, motioning to the couch, “but, uh, you have to decide that.” 

“I do?” 

Steve sits back down as Eddie sits at the other end, the folder between them. “Our lease is coming up,” Steve starts, “and George called the other day to see if we wanted to renew.”

“Well duh, why wouldn’t we renew? We’ve got a good set up,” Eddie says, leaning back against the arm of the couch. He crosses an ankle over his knee, fully relaxing now. “So we just need to sign something, right?” 

“What if…” Steve squeezes the back of his neck. “What if we didn’t renew?”

Eddie sits up. “Do you not want to live with me?” 

“I don’t want to live here,” Steve clarifies. He hands over the folder. “I’ve been looking at houses–”

“Houses?” Eddie asks softly. 

Steve winces. “Okay, a house. I’m kind of already in love and I can understand if this isn’t where you saw yourself. But I–” He groans and puts his head in his hands. “I’m butchering this.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

He had a whole speech planned!! Now he’s fumbling over himself and–

Steve jumps up and turns to Eddie. “I can’t keep living like this,” he starts, “where we just keep going without actually saying anything.” He wipes his mouth with one hand as he steadies himself, his other hand on his hip. When he looks back at Eddie, it all clicks back into place. “I love you, Eddie. I don’t care if that ruins everything and you want to move out. I can’t change how I feel and goddammit, Eddie, I love you.” 

Eddie’s mouth falls open as he leans forward. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” Steve says, biting at the inside of his cheek. “So you can see why I can’t keep doing what we’re doing, not without you knowing. We don’t have to consider the houses, I’m okay with renewing,” he says, “but I can’t…” 

“I hear you,” Eddie says carefully, “I do.” 

Steve nods. “Okay.” 

Eddie reaches out and tugs Steve in close, pulling him onto his lap. His hands slide up Steve’s body to cup his face in his hands. “I love you.” 

“You’re not just saying that, right?” 

He shakes his head, pulling Steve in closer. “I’ve loved you for so long, Steve Harrington. I just didn’t want to…”

“Ruin it?” Steve says with a smirk. 

Eddie nods. “I don’t want to lose you,” he adds. 

“You would never have lost me,” Steve whispers. “I can’t live without you.” 

The kiss they share is sweeter than any Steve’s had in his life. It’s simple and chaste, but god does it have Steve soaring. When he pulls away, his hand on Eddie’s face in a mirror of his own, Steve knows why he was so scared to mess up something wonderful, something beautiful by adding extra pressure. He knows it with the same ferocity that he knows Eddie’s feeling the same thing, the way he always did. 

All he had to do was say it.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie fic #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge

[elaryssue]

I’m about to ramble why I think Rei works better as a Bottom than Kazuki is. They might as well switch, but this post might not be going deeper on that. As well as to clarify this is from a shipper pov.

Many people dislike Bottom Rei just because He has a cold attitude and resemblances the stereotypical father figure. But also because they want to break the well-known: “shorter and slimmer grumpy guy” over-used BL troupe. I do understand that. However, at doing that, many other fall in the cliché of placing Kazuki as the bottom just because he enjoys doing activities stereotypically associated with women, such as cooking, cleaning or being fond of children. Which is, I think, a very sexist argument and I’m glad the writers are doing a great not, amazing job with this character. He is very comfortable with his colorful yet masculine style, which doesn’t only display on his outfits but also in his furniture choices (because yeah, at this point it’s canon he made almost all the decoration in Rei’s flat). But at the same time, has a feminine spot, because he literally choose almost all of Miri outfits and wow, they are very cute and stylish.

I don’t care if they themselves call him “The mom”, because is more like a joke about this specific topic, more like: “let’s make a male character that can break gender rolls without making him act or look girly, but adding many troupes that people will laugh about because they remind them a mother figure and many situations they themselves have gone through. Let’s just show the world that men doesn’t have to be pleased with helping the minimum in the house or when taking care of the children, where both parent should be doing equally.” Coming back to Rei, in my opinion him being the bottom might even deep the plot concerning his OFF and ON modes and all about the Suwa family legacy: His OFF mode represents everything his father despites and works as a antonym of the “ very masculine and elegant cold-blooded hitman”. Where being placed in a submissive position is just unacceptable for the image of Superiority and dominance a future Boss must display. I will always see the Father-son conversation in chapter 8 as subtext of a homophobic Father and his gay son. (Or at least that’s what you can see on media). All about continuing the legacy is literally Shigeki telling Rei to have blood-related children of his own with of course a high class girl that might as well be involved in their world and share their vision, like the daughter of an associated gang. Just for this old piece of sht to discover that his own blood might actually prefer other men company. Which is also implied in the scene when he talks sht about Kazuki. Just for it to be even more suspicious when Rei immediately defended him with such emotion in his voice. (he even refers Kazuki by his name). Miserably destroying his façade about hadn’t made any personal attachments. At that point it was clear to me his father didn’t bite a bit of what Rei had said.

I also hold the headcanon that Rei took after his mother, and my as well be a reason for his father being so cruel to him, especially when he was younger and the resemblance was stronger. Plus adding the fact that, even though he see many of Kazuki’s plans as dumb or stupid, he goes along with them, even when it’s obvious he could reduced him at any moment, he lets Kazuki handle him around and invade his personal space. This guy is touch-starved and enjoys being taken care of and seem pretty comfortable having someone else taking the lead, although he might first die before admitting it.

Just to finish this mess, apart from the mother – malewife jokes, there is nothing that can convince me of Kazuki being the bottom. Yeah, these are anime clichés, but even between all the broken ones, I feel the staff did saved the physixal ones (height difference, body shape), plus the fact that Kazuki is the only one to be shown interested in being in relationships where he tops (obviously with women). Or when his relationship with Rei and Miri is compared as his with Yuzuko and the unborn baby. Of course Rei was also compared with his mentor, where Kazuki might as well resembled his wife. But chapter 7 did went deeper with the comparisons.

#buddy daddies #kazurei

[terra-feminarum]

Hi. Sorry for the random message. But you seem really knowledgeable and I wanted to ask you a question. Or many questions as it seems from my paragraphs below lol.

I know you’ve stated transitioning is a capitalistic desire to become something you aren't in order to experience femininity, or whatever you desire to become, without the strings of being who you are, and that we are estranged individuals who run to fantasy when we can’t cope our reality.

I am an ace trans woman. I know it seems as if I'm a man, a man who wants to use femininity as a product to cure myself or to heal myself, just like everything else men use it for. Only I took it a step further because I wanted cheap approval.

Maybe I am those things, maybe I’m selfish, maybe I’m delusional. Maybe I’m no better than a drag queen who calls women “fish” or whatever.

But a part of me believes that it isn't that, that it runs deeper than that, and I would be lying if I said I didn't want this to be true. I've never wanted approval from anyone, and if I became invisible one day with no one to see me transition or change except myself, I believe I would be very happy. I remember reading a study that trans brains are more inherent to their gender than they are the predisposed gender attached to their sex. If I have the brain of a woman and the body of a man, where does that put me? Am I just a joke that God played?

I don’t know.

I know you mentioned that transitioning has always been purely physical. But for me it isn’t like that. I was already born with a body that overall, was feminine enough for me. Is it based off of stereotypes? Maybe. And maybe that makes me inherently selfish. But I’m ok with my body, at least for today.

I've always believed that I embodied feminine traits. I've always tried to be caring, I've always tried to give and receive. I've always tried to be emotionally strong, and I've always tried to be empathetic. Not tried in an imitation sense, but just really wanted to give it my all. Do what my mother and grandmother did in a sense, to follow in their footsteps. Maybe I have a flawed idea of what feminist is, but honestly who doesn’t? It’s been so skewed by societies expectations of women, that it’s like keeping track of an electric atom. But I have a deep feeling, that may or may not be flawed in of itself, but if anyone had a perfect idea on what things were we would already be on Mars in a utopian matriarchal society.

It's always been taken advantage of. A lot of men have called me gay, and when I tried makeup I was a drag queen. That always humiliated me, as if I wasn't really a woman, just a pale mocking imitation of one that men created. But maybe they’re right. I've always felt I had feminine energy. Is that too abstract? I really hope I'm right in a sense, but if I should give up now and go back. I don't know what to do.

Have I based myself on a lie?

Maybe this is the gender equivalent of chasing ghosts or taking pictures of UFOS. Striving for something that is ultimately pointless and fantasy. (Would you be surprised if I told you I believed in ghosts)

Are all trans women just strange offshoots of body modifiers who took advantage of femininity as a cure for their own self deprecation? I would be lying if I said I knew the answer.

All I know is that I’m not crazy. And I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone, or myself. All I’ve wanted is to become a vet, take care of my 4 dogs and 2 cat and make some difference in the world, and maybe pick up some gender along the way.

Sorry for the long read, thank you for your time. It means a lot. I think you have some of the most intelligent and nuanced tales I’ve heard in a while. Even if I don’t personally agree. Let me know if i misinterpreted what you’ve said. I hope this adds at least some sort of value to the conversation.

Hi, and thank you for your message. I like random messages.

I'm glad to hear you try to follow in the footsteps of your mother and grandmother when it comes to empathy and being caring. That's what all people should do, regardless of sex. Being like a good mother isn't a female virtue but something we all should strive towards. There have been times and places where striving to be like a good mother wasn't humiliating for men.

This is a bit of a tangent but I do have to disagree that in a perfect world we would have a matriarchal society on Mars. We would be here and our planet would be livable for all the future generations to come. Using valuable resources for pointless endeavors is a male fantasy. And by that I don't mean you believe that because you are a male but it's a fantasy of a male-dominated culture. I very much believe a good society wouldn't use natural resources and workforce like that. For most of our history humans were clever enough to live without leaving a trace. I think that is something we should also strive towards.

But this is off-topic. You seem like you're in distress. To me it sounds like you've had a lot of hardship with not fitting in and you're trying to find a way to make sense of that and find a way to feel like you belong. The way you've made sense of who you are is by claiming, or hoping, you're a woman.

You said you've always had feminine energy. You asked if that's too abstract. I have to admit I don't understand what is feminine energy. You wrote to a woman who is most of the time more or less dirty, has short hair, doesn't shave. I wear "men's" clothes and swear non-stop. Where is my feminine energy? Do you have it and I don't? Am I a woman? Or is my capability of empathy the feminine energy I have? Are men inherently devoid of it? How much empathy a man has to have before he stops being a man? These non-physical ideas of womanhood and manhood make me ask questions I've never found good answers to.

You also said you believe you might have the brain of a woman. This too, is a male fantasy, this artificial division between mind and the body. There can't be a female brain inside a male body. There can be an atypical male brain, sure, but it doesn't make it a female brain. I'm under the impression that those kind of brain sex differences have been debunked, anyway. But even if they weren't, our whole bodies are sexed. There isn't a separate soul that could be of different sex than your body. Women aren't oppressed for our souls but our bodies which are capable of creating life. A woman with a "male brain" would have been still forced to birth 12 children in the past. Our bodies are what the patriarchy controls.

Associating womanhood with certain personality traits or certain looks is harmful for women. We aren't a costume. The things trans women describe when they argue why they are women are stereotypes. If these stereotypes are a proof of womanhood, it hinders us from freeing ourselves of those stereotypes. To be free, women need to be able to be any kind of people. But now there's so many young women who believe they're not women at all because they don't recognize themselves in the stereotypes.

All this said, I don't think you've based your identity on a lie. Lying implies knowingly deceiving someone. I'd rather think you've based your identity on certain cultural concepts that help you make sense of what kind of person you are. I believe you find those beliefs comforting and have no bad intentions.

How I understand a lot of trans women are is that they are males who don't fit the social role that is expected of men. They feel more comfortable in the social role associated with womanhood. It's by no means easy to be a trans woman but it's easier to assimilate and think women as your peers, when compared to being a man who is everything a man isn't supposed to be and who is often very alone in his experience. As a trans woman you have a community, you have words with which to make sense of yourself, you have a feeling of sisterhood, maybe with other trans women, maybe with all women.

I'm all for gender non-conformity. Having a certain kind of body doesn't mean you need to act certain way, have a certain type of personality or prefer a certain kind of style.

So: What is a woman? A woman is an adult human female. It excludes males, like you. It doesn't mean I want you to change yourself. You have your personality, your values, your sense of style that fits you. Does it make you a woman? I don't think so, no.

We could, of course, broaden the definition of womanhood to include males. A lot of people like you find comfort in the idea. But we can't. We live in a patriarchy. It means male dominance over women. And we need words to talk about that.

Adopting an oppressed identity to fulfill your personal needs so you'd feel you belong hurts the oppressed people. Just a comparison: my values align a lot with what I've read about many indigenous peoples values. But I see those values through my western lens and can't even see the huge distortions I most likely have. My knowledge is second hand knowledge based on books and I have no idea what it's like to be indigenous. I have my own feelings of alienation as I struggle within my own culture and so I become attached to things I think I recognize myself in. But it doesn't mean I am indigenous nor does it even mean I understand those other cultures at all. I could be very mislead in my western fantasy. So what I need to do is to be in touch with who I really am and where I really am and create something genuine from that starting point. Something that aligns with my values and who I am. I don't need to appropriate an identity to carve a place for myself in the world, and to change the world.

You see where I'm going? People like you could do this. You could destroy all the rules imposed on you and become the kind of man you need to be, and maybe the kind of man the world needs, too. I know it's not easy. People like you are being mocked, even hated. It's not easy, of course it's not. But I believe a good feminist ally would rather use his energy to build new kind of manhood, rather than come to our spaces, claiming to be just like us, when you aren't.

I don't think trans women are inherently selfish or evil. I know many kind and nice trans women personally. I think a lot of you are going through the same process that caused me to believe I was a man. But to change the world and to be genuinely comfortable with oneself, the reality needs to be accepted.

I'd happily share spaces with kind and nurturing men, and might feel we are similar as people. I believe that is what many trans identified males wish, to be one of the women, so to speak. But being comfortable around women doesn't mean you have a right to forcibly claim our spaces and our attention and our resources. I believe many women would gladly share their time with people like you and would think of you as sisters. But I wished it wouldn't have to involve pretending to be us.

This is what I think about this right now. I don't know if this is my final opinion on the matter. I have no ill will for male people who feel kinship with women. But my priority is women's right to our own words which we need so we can tell the story of our oppression.

#trans #feminism

[itsalinh]

I love Colin, I love Ted Lasso writers a very not so normal amount let me tell ya.

This gonna be a stupid rant please bear with me.

As a football fan (Chelsea darling you need to get your shit together asap), I know damn well how this toxic and homophobic this community can be. There is a famous Spanish goalkeeper who once stated on the bird app that he was gay (tho he’s happily married to a woman), and one of his teammates was just… played along with that ig? At first, I thought he was so brave to say that publicly, I might have well defended him on every online post laughing at him and his “sexuality” (yes, all of those comments were horrible— and yes, I’m glad that I did not do that). Only later the gk said his account was hacked. They were just making fun of coming out in football without realising how much hurt they had caused to the queer community. And I never felt disgusted towards them ever like that before. And no one, not a single soul felt bad for the ones’d been hurt. They just laughed it off and everything went on like usual.

Unlike in women’s league, we hardly see any out men players in major leagues (5 ones: England, France, Spain, Italia, Germany). Even if we know someone, he was no longer playing, at all. That’s just the world we’re living in. Though I must acknowledge the effort they’re putting on during every specific occasion in a year.

Back to Colin. I was so touched and emotional when hearing him sharing his deep down thoughts.

“I don’t want to be a spokeperson. I don’t want a bunch of apologies.”

Colin does not need to stand out. He does not want to stand in the spotlight and talk about his sexuality, to be an influencer of something like that. He just wants his life to be exact the way it is, and it is not about feeling ashamed or something. I have a strong feeling that he will not come out to the world. Colin just has a little secret to himself (and to his himbos family only). And I believe he’s happy with it.

That being said, Colin does not want to put any pressure on his teammates when they find out he’s gay. He knows they love him for whoever he is, and they might feel guilty because of those previous disrespect comments, but Colin does not blame them. As long as they care for him (of course!), then Colin feels no need to hear any apologises.

“All I want, is for when we win a match, to be able to kiss my fella the same way the boys kiss their girls”

My heart just dropped dead onto the floor. Oh how many times have Colin witnessed other players got to kiss their lovers and wished he could be like them. He saw Jamie, Sam, and then Roy have lovely moments with their love interests, with everyone else cheering and supporting. Hope to see his ahead journey when at least now someone knows and understands his feeling. For the first time, he actually feels “seen”.

Trent and Colin conversation will forever be engraved in my brain. Such a healthy and heart-warming moment between them. It’s safe to say Sunflowers is my favourite episode from Ted Lasso, I laughed and I squeaked and I teared up and I died at every shot. This episode is a fucking masterpiece!!

P/S: I let out a sigh of relief when they haven’t killed off Michael yet. Colin deserves every bit of happiness and love please don’t take Michael away from him I’m begging youuuu

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso #colin hughes #linhstfu

[robynlilyblack]

can you do something about daughter!reader coming out as bi to dad!sirius and him being supportive as all hell??

I need to tell you something...

Sirius Black x daughter! reader 

Summary: Sirius' daughter comes out as bi to him

Warnings: fluff, Sirius being the greatest dad, mentions of food

A/n: 1k words, I love this request and I hope it did a good job with it, I feel like this was the perfect piece for the first of June, thanks so much for requesting, enjoy x

Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist 

You played with the leftovers scattered across your plate while everyone else conversed around you. Barely listening as you were planning a speech in your head, a speech you had been practicing for a while now, telling your dad you were bisexual.

It terrified you, maybe more than it should have, you knew your dad loved you, but you had only just gotten him back, and moving into Grimmauld place with the Weasleys, your godbrother, among others, you held off. Everything was perfect and you didn’t want it to risk ruining it

“You should have seen her last year when my brother came off the pitch” Ginny says “Thought she was going to key over, eh y/n?” she wiggles her eyebrows at you

You look up, eyes going wide eyed as you registered her words, turning to your father who just chuckles “Which twin would that be? Need to keep an eye on him, bit young for a boyfriend yet” he says half joking, half serious, making the others laugh

You chuckle nervously as you started to feel a little sick. Fred was handsome and you did have a minor crush on the boy but that wasn’t the reason you got so flustered that day. Sure, shirtless Fred was a sight to behold but just behind him was Angelina. She looked like a goddess, her skin glistening in the sun, her hair though wet from sweat framing her face perfectly, the way vest underneath rode up her taking off her jersey, that was the day you were certain you were also attracted to girls

You weren’t sure if people would get it though, if they would judge you for ‘not being able to choose’, when really you would fall for who you fell for, regardless of their gender, a cute boy was a cute boy and a pretty girl was a pretty girl.

But what if you told them and then Fred asked you out, would they call you a liar? Or if you ended up dating a girl, like Angelina, would you be labelled as gay instead? It was confusing and you hadn't fully figured it all out but keeping it hidden was slowly starting to eat away at you, you needed to tell someone

Later that night you were sat up in the kitchen, sitting on the counter by the window, feet fiddling with one of the tea bag boxes between them.

You heard some footsteps approaching, turning you saw your dad “Hey pup” he smiles at you running himself a glass of water “Can’t sleep?” he asks taking a sip

You nod “Thinking” you sigh bringing your legs to your chest resting your chin upon them

He puts down the glass, hopping up onto the counter next to you “What about?” he inquires softly

You shift closer to your father, moving into a cross legged position, perpendicular to him “I need to tell you something...” you begin, taking a deep breath as your leg begins to shoogle

His hand comes to rest on your knee, calming the shakes “You can tell me anything” he assures you with a warm smile, a smile reserved for very few people “Does this have anything to do with dinner?”

You bob your head “Sort of” you say quietly, still unsure of how to bring it up

“If you and Fred are together that’s okay pup, he’s a good lad…still think you’re a bit young to have a boyfriend though” he says in a way intended to make you laugh but you didn't

What about a girlfriend? you wanted to ask, the comedian in you wanted to say that like those sitcoms you watched, but in reality, you felt a bit crushed. You shouldn’t have felt bad he assumed, you had never given any indicators that you liked women too, but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the worry of him not accepting you

“Me and Freddie aren't together” you confess “What I wanted to...umm tell you" you sigh, closing your eyes for a second to gather all of your courage "That day I wasn’t just flustered from him…you see there’s was this other umm…” you hesitate “…girl in my year and she was…was...what I'm trying to say is...” you were cut off as you father pulled you in for a hug, arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace

After the initial shock you melted into it, clutching on to him as your heart stopped aching “Sorry” he says with a small chuckle pulling back “Please finish, I may have jumped the gun a bit but I couldn't stop myself”

You giggle at him before you take a second, building the confidence to say it out loud, something you hadn’t even done on your own to yourself “I think…I know I’m bisexual” you start shaky from ending firmly, feeling a weight off of your shoulders, as your uncle Remus would say ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’

He just smiles at you “I’m so proud of you pup” he says truly, hands on the sides of your shoulders “You’re a lot braver than your ol da”

Your eyes widen “Your?” you say a little surprised

He nods “yeah” he confirms verbally before lifting your legs lightly, motioning for you to let your legs dangle off the counter “Come here” he wraps his arm around you 

You lean into him, turning your body so you could wrap your arms around his torso “When did you know?” you ask peering up at him

“Think I always knew, took me a very long time before I admitted it, too long” he admits a sad tone in his voice “So I completely understand why you were nervous” he holds you a little tighter “I love you so much pup, that will never ever change” he kisses your forehead

“I love you too dad” you smile up at him, you were still nervous about what it all meant but your dad’s overwhelming support made it a lot less scary

He let you talk, listening to everything you had to say, the good and bad thoughts that swirled in your head, your insecurities, first crushes, everything. He helped ease your worries and was more supportive than you could have ever dreamed, letting you know that you didn't have to prove anything to anyone, not to mention if anyone ever gave you shit he would kick their ass

“Did you ever date any boys?” you ask, wanting to know more about your fathers experiences

He smiles slyly “There was one boy…” he starts before proceeding to tell you one of the cutest love stories you had ever heard, a love story that was still active to this day

Thank you for reading and happy pride everyone 💛

#sirius black and reader #sirius black and you #sirius and daughter #sirius x reader #sirius black #dad sirius black #dad sirius #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #golden era #lgbtq #robynsasks #sirius and reader #marauders #sirius x y/n #siriusblack

[redheadbigshoes]

Ugh lesbianchemicalplant...

I've read a bunch of her posts on transmisogyny before, some of them are fine but her views on lesbian stuff is so... really strikes me as someone who hasn't actually faced lesbophobia before.

I'm a transfem lesbian too and I've gone through enough comphet conversion therapy bullshit that I have no patience for anyone who doesn't respect the strict boundary of No Men in lesbian identity, I have been pressured and forced and chained to men my whole goddamn life and to say "oh its just bi women saying Yes they really are attracted to women" thats biphobic to think that that needs to be said rather than taking bisexual identity seriously and not making assumptions that a bi person is barely attracted to the same sex.

Like she referenced 'political lesbianism' as a keyword without it being in any way involved and 'lesbian sepratism' which I just take as a keyword to mean someone doesnt give a shit that we want an identity seperate from trans men and bi women.

If you can't empathize with the fact we are alone against a world where almost every fucking one else (aroace women i see you) in some way is a man or is attracted to them and every fucking thing in this world expects you, tells you you should care about them, be interested in them, everything fucking involves men in some way and they whine when it doesnt, if you can't empathize with the fact we want some goddamn respect for the struggle that is to live in this man-centric world? Then you're blind to why we're upset, why it hurts, why it makes us feel alone.

So yeah, it's not a 'cis lesbian seperatism' thing there's plenty of trans lesbians who want our goddamn independance from men to be respected.

...phew okay got all my feelings out lol have a nice one ya'll

-🌻

I am pretty sus of lesbians who support the inclusion of cis and trans men in lesbianism. They either (like you said) have never faced lesbophobia, or they’re not actually lesbians.

If you’re supporting the inclusion of cis and trans men in lesbianism there’s a big chance you call yourself lesbian while being attracted to cis and trans men so you’re not actually a lesbian.

These people really don’t realize how they’re reinforcing bisexual stereotypes of being deep down straight or gay/lesbian. They completely erase the years of bisexuals fighting for respect and for recognition so people start thinking bisexuality is an unique and separate identity and not being half gay and half straight. They completely ignore history while trying to use history to include men in lesbianism.

#stephanie answers #🌻 anon #long post

[queers-gambit]

Hi Cherry ❣️

Just wanted to let you know that you're a very talented writer, and everyone on here loves your fics, me included of course. Just in case you may doubt yourself honey 🥰🥺

So far I've read every single one of your Billy Hargrove fics and to say that you're one of my favorite Billy writers is an understatement. Up and Out is a personal favorite to be honest, it holds a special place in my heart. 🥺♥️ It's so rare to find Billy writers on here, most people misunderstand him, even fans and many Billy writers. Wether it be a Billy fan or a Billy hater, he is always seen as either :

a) a horrible abusive being who deserved everything that happened to him. Like for real, some people truly have no empathy for abuse victims, Billy isn't abusive, he is a victim who lashes out, there is a huge gap between the two. Of course lashing out at others isn't the way to go, but I strongly believe that Billy doesn't want to do any of that either, he feels deeply guilty for things he isn't responsible for (like his mother leaving him with his abusive dad) or for things that are beyond his control due to his overactive hypervigilence and trauma responses.

or b) the sex symbol. Like seriously, I know he is beautiful and all, but he is still a teenager. He should not be sexualized the way most people do on here. I rarely ever come across a fic that doesn't depict him as a sex icon. Yes, he is gorgeous, we all know that. Yes, he is hypersexual, we know that. But that's not ALL he is. He is SO MUCH MORE than that. And people forget that his hypersexual behavior is probably the result of some trauma. I feel like he secretly really wants affection, love, hugs and cuddles and validation. He is just too afraid to show the slightest ounce of vulnerability.

or c) the repressed gay sex symbol. Like. Okay, to each their own. But seriously. Him not showing affection towards the girls we saw him with (like Vicky and Tina for example) doesn't mean he isn't interested in women. It means he is a scarred traumatized young boy who doesn't know how to express affection in a healthy way. Just like Jim Hopper. They share some many similarities, it's just insane. Anyways, that's a just a thought.

Damn, I'm so sorry for my rambling, I got carried away. 😅 Thank you for giving us a more accurate representation of Billy Hargrove. ❣️ We need it. Please don't stop what you're doing. 🤍💕 You're talented, always remember that Cherry.🌷

you know what we're NOT gonna do? apologize to Cherry for sending her a message of ANY length! i adore your guys' messages, so, whether you write me 3 words, 10 words, 30, or 500, i'm really jazzed to read them all. welcome to my heart, poppet, i'm so very happy you're here to share with. thank you so so so much for the compliments and support! you sweetie pie, cutie patootie!

i feel like i rarely get conversations anymore, it's all requests; so this was a nice change of pace 'cause you're looking really deep into a character that had incredible potential, so it's really cool to form your own thoughts, ideas, emotions.

i think you made some interesting points about Billy's character. but in all honesty, he's such an ambiguous character that i like the idea that he's versatile; so there's no "wrong" Billy. but i appreciate you saying i represent him - he's a fun character to write for 'cause, again, he's versatile and anything goes for Billy Boy.

however, i want to remind you and anyone else of something.

YES, victims themselves can ALSO in turn become ABUSERS. it's a righteously toxic cycle. you know the phrase, "monkey see, monkey do?" it's very much similar to that. children see what mommy and daddy do, so they think it's acceptable behavior until someone later in life corrects them. but then there's also that phrase, "you can't teach an old dog new tricks," so even if you were correct them, odds are, the lesson isn't going to stick because they're conditioned to believe, think, act, feel a certain way. the way the abusers programmed them to be.

it's a concept that i, myself, am still trying to learn. let me explain: i have an older sister who was abused by our mother and the first chance she got, she moved out. their relationship is MUCH better now, but it took years of therapy for my sister to cope with all that had been said and done. however, in therapy, she came to terms with the fact that our mother had been abused by her mother - our grandmother - who had been abused by HER mother - our great-grandmother.

my sister had to teach herself that this cycle was not a reflection on her as a person or as a daughter, but rather this was a generational curse that dates back way-back-when. so while it's like, yeah, our mother was abused by our grandmother, that still doesn't excuse 100% of what my mother did or said to my sister. see what i mean? yeah, my mother's a victim, but she didn't just continue the cycle of abuse but fanned the flames - marking her as an abuser, too. it's not her fault, it's not grandma's fault, it's not great-grandma's fault - it's a societal behavior that has never been kind to women in basically any culture, religion, region, tradition. however this doesn't mean we get to excuse abuse; accountability still needs to be held, wounds need to be healed, and justice needs to be shelled out.

Billy is still a kid, he's excused because he truly doesn't know right from wrong, but it's important to me that i reiterate that my writings are MEANT to romanticize toxic men and relationships. you should not entertain things that are not good for you, things that make you sick, things that cause harm - you do not deserve that kind of turmoil. please stay safe.

again, Billy is meant to be romanticized - but your real life situation is NOT to be. you are all so very special to me, i want you all to stay safe and know that should anyone need it, i'm here for any chat.

all of my love and all of my forehead kisses 🖤

( ps if you're wondering how my sister got abused and i didn't, i guess my mother didn't have the time because i was diagnosed at a young age with rare medical conditions that have kept me in and out of the hospital for over a decade. so maybe 'cause God was tryna unalive me, my ma didn't think to abuse me in the way she did my sister, but trust and believe, i had my fair share of bullshit )

[sapphiclizziebennet]

sometimes i wish i could view gender in a heteronormative way and only that because that would make it so much more simple. in a heteronormative society, i know for sure that i am not a woman and do not want to be seen as a woman. i don't connect with that at all. but outside of that? where anything is everything? am i a woman? i kind of hate the idea, i don't want to wear that label and man it would exhaust me being a woman all the time even outside of that, but there is still that blip in my mind that worries that i'm faking it. that i'm only this way because i'm just internally misogynistic, or hate what heteronormativity tells women they should be, or whatever.

i fucking hate the idea that you have to be trans only in one way. gender dysphoria does exist for me but i still question whether it's from inside or whether it's from outer sources, even though i was binding my chest as a young teenager and loving how i was perceived when i cosplayed men. there is still. that. voice. not because i'm not trans, but because heteronormativity and subsequently that lack of it is something my brain is trying so hard to hold onto like a tether but it just won't let go.

admittedly, i've been doomscrolling a lot of trans hate recently. been rooting around on r/detrans (which is not intrinsically trans hate but man a lot of former trans men detransition and become terfs), reading terf threads on twitter from teenagers who think being a radical feminist is edgy, the replies on jk rowling's posts, libs of tiktok, the list goes on and on. it's just really scary to be anything but the norm right now. i'm really scared. i think this gender thing goes down far deeper than i ever anticipated it to. i don't know how to ask people to sometimes use "he" pronouns for me, or what it means that i still wear dresses and supposedly act feminine to others when i do it (although via the aforementioned heteronormativity anything i do is feminine, even when i basically often see myself as a man in a dress of sorts. it's a masculine dress lmao). friends irl, newer ones who have only known me with they/them pronouns, still mess them up and god it does hurt every time. it cuts so deep.

i also was looking at some artists on twitter that i had to unfollow a while ago, both of whom recently came out as transmasc and still present rather femininely, they're dating and living the life i want. i want to be them and the jealousy boils in me like a fever i can't sweat out. i wish i was thin, so people would see me differently, i wish my voice was deeper, so people would see me differently, i wish i was beautiful or handsome or cool or coordinated or nice, so people would see me differently. all of those things. i am not handsome i am not pretty i am not anything and that still makes me question all of this. who would i be if i did not hate my body? i think i've done okay separating it from dysphoria, but i still question things.

my mother hates everything queer about me. when i try to say something about it she goes silent. the other day i referred to an old friend with their pronouns, they/them, and she said "oh, (name) is a they now?" and the conversation ended with "well that's one way to confuse people." and yeah, she'd never kick me out for being gay or trans, but i feel it. i know it. i am not the thing you made in your womb to you. i am something else entirely and i wish i could figure it out.

some people would say this turmoil is a sign that i'm not trans and that terrifies me to my core. but this is what being trans in a world that doesn't like it looks like. i only hate it because of what is being served to me. i love gender so much but god everything sucks in the world right now. i wish people would fucking believe me. i wish people who meant well didn't mess up my pronouns. i know they see me as a woman. i just know it. i hate it.

sorry i wrote this much i just have a lot of thoughts tonight. thanks if you read this far i guess

#really detailed thoughts about gender. sorry about it #sarah why

[pridepages]

Love on the Mind: The Rest of Us Just Live Here

I just finished The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Passion is often describes as a physical experience: heart racing, butterflies fluttering, flushing...a phenomenon based in the body. In fact, we are subtly taught time after time through traditional stories to believe that any other kind of way to experience love must be inherently less powerful or meaningful. But in The Rest of Us Just Live Here, Patrick Ness challenges our ideas of what passion--and heroism--should look like.

The world of Rest of Us is a playful jab at the tropes of YA fantasy. Narrator Mikey Mitchell introduces us to the idea that he lives in a world where the supernatural exists. It is expected that every few years there will be some kind of crisis: soul-eating ghosts, romantic vampires, etc. And every time the world is imperiled, it will be up to a select group of kids--dubbed the “indie kids”--to be the group from which that cycle’s Chosen Ones will emerge to save the day. As it happens, it’s about to happen again. A group of entities called The Immortals are trying to invade our world and indie kid Satchel and her friends must stop them! Murder, romance, mystery, and adventure ensue.

But this isn’t their story.

This is the story of the other kids. The ones who aren’t expected to do anything but live on the margins. Mikey, his sisters Mel and Meredith, along with their friends Henna and Jared have their own dramas. Mikey and Mel suffer from intense bouts of mental illness (OCD and an ED respectively). Meredith is a precocious child who is overlooked by their workaholic mom and alcoholic dad. Henna, Jared, Mikey, and Mel face their impending graduation and all the changes life is bringing them.

We meet the group in the middle of a debate: Do we have a choice in our attractions?

“You always have a choice,” insists Mel, “I don’t care if you think it’s love...you can still choose to act right.” Meanwhile, Henna maintains “Your heart fills up. Actually, no...it’s in your stomach. You feel and everything just goes.” Which Jared agrees with: “Your dick or whatever, that’s just wanting. Animal stuff. This is more...You feel it right here, and it’s like, for that moment, everything you believed is wrong. Or doesn’t matter.”

So who is right? It’s too reductive to say that one way of experiencing love is realer or truer than another. But Patrick Ness makes an excellent case for the idea that love that is born of our mind is just as significant as the kind of love that’s born in our ‘stomach.’

Mikey’s relationships with Henna and Jared are both creations of his mind. For instance, Mikey reflects on his relationship with Jared:

“It’s occurred to me more than once to ask myself if I was gay, too, deep down. My best friend is, after all, and we’ve fooled around. I wasn’t exactly lying back with my eyes closed either. It was fun. I feel so safe around Jared, it seems only natural that we’d help each other let off some steam once in a while...he was afraid I thought that way about him and didn’t want me to get hurt. Which I didn’t and won’t. So, okay, it’s all a little complicated but I’d have been crazy not to at least ask myself the question.”

For some people, the fact that Mikey is capable of any kind of attraction to Jared makes him queer. I’d welcome someone like Mikey under our rainbow umbrella. But Mikey never makes it clear whether he identifies as queer. In contrast, he explains he experiences more consistent attraction to women, and particularly his crush on Henna:

“But I dream about girls. In that way. And when I, you know, have the occasional...intimate conversation with myself, girls again. It’s what I look at online, and it’s who I’ve dated in the past...Henna. I’ve imagined us for years...and when I do, she and I are always in it together, like we’re on the same team and it’s us against everybody else and there’s nowhere else either of us would rather be. I imagine her as my friend. And if I don’t understand what she means about the desire in her stomach, well, so what? People are different. I love her. I do. Don’t I?”

For the Hennas and the Jareds of the world, attraction is a simple thing that they can feel in their gut. For people like Mikey that have intense inner lives and are driven by their heads, attraction can be more complicated.

The thing about attraction--and the labels we use to explain them--is that they belong to the holder. We have long ago, and rightly, moved away from the idea that queerness is a mental illness. Our labels aren’t diagnoses. They are descriptors that help us explain our identities to the world.

And some kinds of love transcend even our labels. For Mikey and Jared, theirs is an undeniable love that exists in a sublime place beyond simple romantic or sexual attraction. “He’s gay, but it’s different,” Mikey explains, “It’s like he’s my family, except better, because I’ve chosen him.” Chosen family is a form of love that is critical for queer people. And the best part is, like every other relationship queer people have, there are no roadmaps or models. That can be scary but also freeing, because we get to make the rules:

“I know most people would think it weird that two guy friends touch as much as we do, but when you choose your family, you get to choose how it is between you, too. This is how we work. I hope you get to choose your family and I hope it means as much to you as mine does to me.”

And it’s not just one-sided. Jared knows that Mikey suffers from mental illness, from anxiety that whispers cruel things and makes Mikey believe he is unworthy and unloveable. So Jared doesn’t shy away from giving Mikey the affirmation he desperately needs:

“I know how much you worry about shit. And what’s also important is that I know a big part of that worry is that, no matter what group of friends you’re in, no matter how long you’ve known them, you always assume you’re the least-wanted person there. The one everyone could do without. Even when it’s just you and me. I know how you worry that you need me as a friend more than I need you...I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Love isn’t always the rush of joy and the warmth of security. Sometimes love is being each other’s safe space. Sometimes it’s giving each other grace to feel a little weak. Sometimes it’s giving of ourselves and our vulnerable bits so that other people feel safe to share theirs. “We share our craziness, our neuroses, our little bit of screwed-up-ness that comes from our family. We share it. And it feels like love.”

Most importantly of all: love doesn’t just have to strike you in your heart, or your stomach, or any other physical feeling in order to be real. “Here’s the thing...I can’t tell you what’s real for you. But in return, you can’t say what’s real for me either. I get to choose. Not you.” 

Love is faith. Love is hope. Love is trust. Love is a choice. Which means we’ve all got love on our minds.

#patrick ness #the rest of us just live here #lgbt reads #queer lit #lgbtqia

[thegenderblog]

Rejecting the Male and Desiring the Female

I spoke to my therapist about my thoughts this week. It was the most productive session I had, and the money I'm paying is starting to pay off, which is nice. I'm going to take a break from external femme things for a little bit. I had a eureka moment shortly after writing my last post that I can buy as much as I want, but my gender is my gender regardless of what I put on.

One thing we did was go through the aspects of male culture that I didn't like, and that of female culture that I wished to take part in. I said a lot of things out loud that I never had before. Nothing I said earth-shattering, save for the act itself. However, I want to write it down here so I can solidify it.

So - the following is a list of all the parts of male culture I want to stray away from:

Competition as Hangout: I don't mind a friendly game, but often playing video games or sports against other men is all some people have. I don't care much for competing as is, and I the idea of tying my identity to winning just sounds... awful. Michael Jordan lives a hell of an existence.

Sausage Talk: Sausage Talk falls into two categories: money, and women. Again, these are the only conversations some men have. The money is usually in the form of stocks. Cryptocurrency and NFT's were big the past twelve months. Offshoots of this can include Cars, suits, watches, anything that can be considered a status symbol. There just has to be more than generating value. There's also women. This one is very obvious, but men's desire to talk about women in the worst way. It made me uncomfortable even as a kid - growing up catholic and shamed for sexual desire was a part of that, too - and it makes me uncomfortable as an adult. The thing is, when a man talks like that, it's as if they don't even want the woman. They just want to connect with another man in socially acceptable way. Hence, they talk about the woman. Most misogynistic comments and are born of this.

Emotional Dullardry: I believe that men's lack of emotional intelligence is learned. Men know deep down how to access their emotions. It just becomes very simple to live life with your feelings flattened. Why try to learn, when you could just... not? I like to thing I possess a grand level of emotional intelligence. I probably don't, but at least I can work toward it.

That's it for the male side. I feel like everything else just branches out from those three things. The bigger things are the part of female culture I wish to experience. So, I will put that here now. Parts of female culture I wish(ed) to be a part of:

Hair/Makeup/Clothes Shopping: I was always jealous of the options women had. In high school, I would hear conversations between the girls in high school during prom season and think: "I wish I could have a conversation like that". It just seemed to natural to me. To have those talks, and bond like that... I know it's not perfect, but it's something I wish I had.

Casual Gatherings: If you are a man, you cannot just catch up to chat. There has to be some sort of thing on top of it to make it not gay. Usually something competitive. Not that I don't have great hangouts with my friends when that happens, but it'd be nice to just go "hey, let's meet up". That's easier with women. All of my friends who are girls just, like... go to brunch and talk shit, just because. That's amazing. Socializing exhausts me, but I feel like I would enjoy that.

Affirmations: As much my guy friends are good with support, there often a half-sarcastic joke about how gay we're all acting. I want that to go away. Women are allowed to call their friends gorgeous, call them the wifey, embrace them with love. Some of them don't want to, but if they did, it's there. I just feel like if I had that, things would be a bit easier. I hate being part of the male world that doesn't get compliments. I should give them out more, but still. Maybe that's easier with practice in femme society.

That's it for now. If I have more things to add to this, I'll make a part two, but this was good.

God, I thought Tik Tok was going to be my transition diary.

#nonbinary

[michaun]

#midnight mass #thobmedit #midnightmassedit #thohhedit #thohh #thobm #thing i made #gay women having deep conversation > everything else

[army-of-mai-lovers]

in which I get progressively angrier at the various tropes of atla fandom misogyny

tbh I think it would serve all of us to have a larger conversation about the specific ways misogyny manifests in this fandom, because I’ve seen a lot of people who characterize themselves as feminists, many of whom are women themselves, discuss the female characters of atla/lok in misogynistic ways, and people don’t talk about it enough. 

disclaimer before I start: I’m not a woman, I’m an afab nonbinary person who is semi-closeted and thus often read as a woman. I’m speaking to things that I’ve seen that have made me uncomfy, but if any women (esp women existing along other axes of oppression, e.g. trans women, women of color, disabled women, etc) want to add onto this post, please do!

“This female character is a total badass but I’m not even a little bit interested in exploring her as a human being.” 

I’ve seen a lot of people say of various female characters in atla/lok, “I love her! She’s such a badass!” now, this statement on its own isn’t misogynistic, but it represents a pretty pervasive form of misogyny that I’ve seen leveled in large part toward the canon female love interests of one or both of the members of a popular gay ship (*cough* zukka *cough*) I’m going to use Suki as an example of this because I see it with her most often, but it can honestly be applied to nearly every female character in atla/lok. Basically, people will say that they stan Suki, but when it comes time to engage with her as an actual character, they refuse to do it. I’ve seen meta after meta about Zuko’s redemption arc, but I so rarely see people engage with Suki on any level beyond “look at this cool fight scene!” and yeah, I love a cool Suki fight scene as much as anybody else, but I’m also interested in meta and headcanons and fics about who she is as a person, when she isn’t an accessory to Sokka’s development or doing something cool. of course, the material for this kind of engagement with Suki is scant considering she doesn’t have a canon backstory (yet) (don’t let me down Faith Erin Hicks counting on you girl) but with the way I’ve seen people in this fandom expand upon canon to flesh out male characters, I know y’all have it in you to do more with Suki, and with all the female characters, than you currently do. frankly, the most engagement I’ve seen with Suki in mainstream fandom is justifying either zukki (which again, is characterizing her in relation to male characters, one of whom she barely interacts with in canon) or one of the Suki wlw pairings. which brings me to--

“I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!” 

now, I will admit, two of my favorite atla ships are yueki and mailee, and so I totally understand being interested in these characters’ dynamics, even if, as is the case with yueki, they’ve never interacted canonically. however, it becomes a problem for me when these ships are always in the background of a zukka fic. at some point, it becomes obvious that you like this ship because it gets either Zuko or Sokka’s female love interests out of the way, not because you actually think the characters would mesh well together. It’s bad form to dislike a female character because she gets in the way of your gay ship, so instead, you find another girl to pair her off with and call it a day. to be clear, I’m not saying that everybody who ships either mailee or yueki (or tysuki or maisuki or yumai or whatever other wlw rarepair involving Zuko or Sokka’s canon love interests) is nefariously trying to sideline a female character while acting publicly as if she’s is one of their faves--far from it--but it is noteworthy to me how difficult it is to find content that centers wlw ships, while it’s incredibly easy to find content that centers zukka in which mailee and/or yueki plays a background role. 

also, notice how little traction wlw Katara ships gain in this fandom. when’s the last time you saw yuetara on your dash? there’s no reason for wlw Katara ships to gain traction in a fandom that is so focused on Zuko and Sokka getting together, bc she doesn’t present an immediate obstacle to that goal (at least, not an obstacle that can be overcome by pairing her up with a woman). if you are primarily interested in Zuko and Sokka’s relationship, and your queer readings of other female characters are motivated by a desire to get them out of the way for zukka, then Katara’s canon m/f relationship isn’t a threat to you, and thus, there’s no reason to read her as potentially queer. Or even, really, to think about her at all. 

“Katara’s here but she’s not actually going to do anything, because deep down, I’m not interested in her as a person.” 

the show has an enormous amount of textual evidence to support the claim that Sokka and Katara are integral parts of each other’s lives. so, she typically makes some kind of appearance in zukka content. sometimes, her presence in the story is as an actual character with layers and nuance, someone whom Sokka cares about and who cares about Sokka in return, but also has her own life and goals outside of her brother (or other male characters, for that matter.) sometimes, however, she’s just there because halfway through writing the author remembered that Sokka actually has a sister who’s a huge part of the show they’re writing fanfiction for, and then they proceed to show her having a meetcute with Aang or helping Sokka through an emotional problem, without expressing wants or desires outside of those characters. I’m honestly really surprised that I haven’t seen more people calling out the fact that so much of Katara’s personality in fanon revolves around her connections to men? she’s Aang’s girlfriend, she’s Sokka’s sister, she’s Zuko’s bestie. never mind that in canon she spends an enormous amount of time fighting against (anachronistic, Westernized) sexism to establish herself as a person in her own right, outside of these connections. and that in canon she has such interesting complex relationships with other female characters (e.g. Toph, Kanna, Hama, Korra if you want to write lok content) or that there are a plethora of characters with whom she could have interesting relationships with in fanon (Mai, Suki, Ty Lee, Yue, Smellerbee, and if you want to write lok content, Kya II, Lin, Asami, Senna, etc). to me, the lack of fandom material exploring Katara’s relationships with other women or with herself speak to a profound indifference to Katara as a character. I’m not saying you have to like Katara or include her in everything you write, but I am asking you to consider why you don’t find her interesting outside of her relationships with men.

“I hate Katara because she talks about her mother dying too often.” 

this is something I’ve seen addressed by people far more qualified than I to address it, but I want to mention it here in part because when I asked people which fandom tropes they wanted me to talk about, this came up often, but also because I find it really disgusting that this is a thing that needs to be addressed at all. Y’all see a little girl who watched her mother be killed by the forces of an imperialist nation and say that she talks about it too much??? That is a formational, foundational event in a child’s life. Of course she’s going to talk about it. I’ve seen people say that she doesn’t talk about it that often, or that she only talks about it to connect with other victims of fn imperialism e.g. Jet and Haru, but frankly, she could speak about it every episode for no plot-significant reason whatsoever and I would still be angry to see people say she talks about it too much. And before you even bring up the Sokka comparison, people deal with grief in different ways. Sokka  repressed a lot of his grief/channeled it into being the “man” of his village because he knew that they would come for Katara next if he gave them the opportunity. he probably would talk about his mother more if a) he didn’t feel massive guilt at not being able to remember what she looked like, and b) he was allowed to be a child processing the loss of his mother instead of having to become a tiny adult when Hakoda had to leave to help fight the fn. And this gets into an intersection with fandom racism, in that white fans (esp white American fans) are incapable of relating to the structural trauma that both Sokka and Katara experience and thus can’t see the ways in which structural trauma colors every single aspect of both of their characters, leading them to flatten nuance and to have some really bad takes. And you know what, speaking of bad fandom takes--   

“Shitting on Mai because she gets in the way of my favorite Zuko ship is actually totally okay because she’s ~abusive~” 

y’all WHAT. 

ok listen, I get not liking maiko. I didn’t like it when I first got into fandom, and later I realized that while bryke cannot write romance to save their lives, fans who like maiko sure can, so I changed my tune. but if you still don’t like it, that’s fine. no skin off my back. 

what IS skin off my back is taking instances in which Mai had justified anger toward Zuko, and turning it into “Mai abused Zuko.” do you not realize how ridiculous you sound? this is another thing where I get so angry about it that I don’t know how useful my analysis is actually going to be, but I’ll do my best. numerous people have noted how analysis of Mai and Zuko’s breakup in “The Beach” or Mai being justifiably angry with him at Boiling Rock or her asking for FUCKING FRUIT in “Nightmares and Daydreams” that says that all of these events were her trying to gain control over him is....ahhh...lacking in reading comprehension, but I’d like to go a step further and talk about why y’all are so intent on taking down a girl who doesn’t show emotion in normative ways. obviously, there’s a “Zuko can do no wrong” aspect to Mai criticism (which is super weird considering how his whole arc is about how he can do lots of wrong and he has to atone for the wrong that he’s done--but that’s a separate post.) But I also see slandering Mai for not expressing her emotions normatively and not putting up with Zuko’s shit and slandering Katara for “talking about her mother too often” as two sides of the same coin. In both cases, a female character expresses emotions that make you, the viewer, uncomfortable, and so instead of attempting to understand where those emotions may have come from and why they might be manifesting the way they are, y’all just throw the whole character away. this is another instance of people in the fandom being fundamentally disinterested in engaging with the female characters of atla in a real way, except instead of shallowly “stanning” Mai, y’all hate her. so we get to this point where female characters are flattened into one of two things: perfect queens who can do no wrong, or bitches. and that’s not who they are. that’s not who anyone is. but while we as a fandom are pretty good at understanding b1 Zuko’s actions as layered and multifaceted even though he’s essentially an asshole then, few are willing to lend the same grace to any female character, least of all Mai. 

and what’s funny is sometimes this trope will intersect with “I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!”, so you’ll have someone actively calling Mai toxic/problematic/abusive, and at the same time ship her with Ty Lee? make it make sense! but then again, maybe that’s happening because y’all are fundamentally disinterested in Ty Lee as a character too. 

“I love Ty Lee so much that I’m going to treat her like an infantilized hypersexual airhead!” 

there are so many things happening in y’alls characterization of Ty Lee that I struggled to synthesize it into one quippy section header. on one hand, you have the hypersexualization, and on the other hand, you have the infantilization, which just makes the hypersexualization that much worse. 

(of course, sexualizing or hypersexualizing ANY atla character is really not the move, considering that these are child characters in a children’s show, but then again, that’s a separate post.) 

now, I understand how, from a very, very surface reading of the text, you could come to the conclusion that Ty Lee is an uncomplicated bimbo. if you grew up on Western media the way I did, you’ll know that Ty Lee has a lot of the character traits we associate with bimbos: the form-fitting pink crop top, the general conventional attractiveness, the ditzy dialogue. but if you think about it for more than three seconds, you’ll understand that Ty Lee has spent her whole life walking a tightrope, trying to please Azula and the rest of the royal family while also staying true to herself. Ty Lee and Azula’s relationship is a really complex and interesting topic that I don’t really have time to explore at the moment given how long this post is, but I’d argue that Ty Lee’s constant, vocal  adulation is at least partially a product of learning to survive at court at an early age. Like Mai, she has been forced to regulate her emotions as a member of fn nobility, but unlike Mai, she also has six sisters who look exactly like her, so she has a motivation to be more peppy and more affectionate to stand out. 

fandom does not do the work to understand Ty Lee. as is a theme with this post, fandom is actively disinterested in investigating female characters beyond a very surface level reading of them. Thus, fandom takes Ty Lee’s surface level qualities--her love of the color pink, her revealing standard outfit, and the fact that once she found a boy attractive and also once a lot of boys found her attractive--and they stretch this into “Ty Lee is basically Karen Smith from Mean Girls.” thus, Ty Lee is painted as a bimbo, or more specifically, as not smart, uncritically adoring of Azula (did y’all forget all the non-zukka bits of Boiling Rock?), and attractive to the point of hypersexualization. I saw somebody make a post that was like “I wish mailee was more popular but I’m also glad it isn’t because otherwise people would write it as Mai having to put up with her dumb gf” and honestly I have to agree!! this is one instance in which I’m glad that fandom doesn’t discuss one of my favorite characters that often because I hate the fanon interpretation of Ty Lee, I think it’s rooted in misogyny (particularly misogyny against East Asian women, which often takes the form of fetishizing them and viewing them only through a Western white male gaze)  

(side note: here at army-of-mai-lovers, we stan bimbos. bimbos are fucking awesome. I personally don’t read Ty Lee as a bimbo, but if that’s you, that’s fucking awesome. keep doing what you’re doing, queen <3 or king or monarch, it’s 2021, anyone can be a bimbo, bitches <3)

“Toph can and will destroy everyone here with her bare hands because she’s a meathead who likes to murder people and that’s it!”  

Toph is, and always has been, one of my favorite ATLA characters. My very first fic in fandom was about her, and she appears prominently in a lot of my other work as well. One thing that I am always struck by with Toph is how big a heart she has. She’s independent, yes, snarky, yes, but she cares about people--even the family that forced her to make herself smaller because they didn’t believe that their blind daughter could be powerful and strong. Her storyline is powerful and emotionally resonant, her bending is cool precisely because it’s based in a “wait and listen” approach instead of just smashing things indiscriminately, she’s great disabled rep, and overall one of the best characters in the show. 

And in fandom, she gets flattened into “snarky murder child.” 

So where does this come from? Well, as we all know, Toph was originally conceived of as a male character, and retained a lot of androgyny (or as the kids call it, Gender) when she was rewritten as a female character. There are a lot of cultural ideas about androgynous/butch women being violent, and people in fandom seem to connect that larger cultural narrative with some of Toph’s more violent moments in the show to create the meathead murder child trope, erasing her canon emotionality, softness, heart, and femininity in the process. 

This is not to say that you shouldn’t write or characterize Toph as being violent or snarky at all ever, because yeah, Toph definitely did do Earth Rumbles a lot before joining the gaang, and yeah, Toph is definitely a sarcastic person who makes fun of her friends a lot. What I am saying is that people take these traits, sans the emotional logic, marry them to their conception of androgynous/butch women as violent/unemotional/uncaring, and thus create a caricature of Toph that is not at all up to snuff. When I see Toph as a side character in a fic (because yeah, Toph never gets to be a main character, because why would a fandom obsessed with one male character in particular ever make Toph a protagonist in her own right?) she’s making fun of people, killing people, pranking people, etc, etc. She’s never talking to people about her emotions, or palling around with her found family, or showing that she cares about her friends. Everything about her relationship with her parents, her disability, her relationship to Gender, and her love of her friends is shoved aside to focus on a version of Toph that is mean and uncaring because people have gotten it into their heads that androgynous/butch women are mean and uncaring. 

again, we see a female character who does not emote normatively or in a way that makes you, the viewer, comfortable, and so you warp her character until she’s completely unrecognizable and flat. and for what? 

Azula

no, I didn’t come up with a snappy name for this section, mainly because fanon interpretations of Azula and my own feelings toward the character are...complicated. I know there were some people who wanted me to write about Azula and the intersection of misogyny and ableism in fanon interpretations of her character, but I don’t think I can deliver on that because I personally am in a period of transition with how I see Azula. that is to say, while I still like her and believe that she can be redeemed, there is a lot of merit to disliking her. the whole point of this post is that the female characters of ATLA are complex people whom the fandom flattens into stereotypes that don’t hold up to scrutiny, or dislike for reasons that don’t make sense. Azula, however, is a different case. the rise of Azula defenders and Azula stans has led to this sentiment that Azula is a 14 y/o abuse victim who shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions. it seems to me that people are reacting to a long, horrible legacy of male ATLA fans armchair diagnosing Azula with various personality disorders (and suggesting that people with those personality disorders are inherently monstrous and unlovable which ahhhh....yikes) and then saying that those personality disorders make her unlovable, which is quite obviously bad. and hey, I get loving a character that everyone else hates and maybe getting so swept up in that love that you forget that your fave is complicated and has made some unsavory choices. it sucks that fanon takes these well-written, complex villains/antiheroes and turns them into monsters with no critical thought whatsoever. but the attitude among Azula stans that her redemption shouldn’t be hard, that her being a child excuses all of the bad things that she’s done, that she is owed redemption....all of that rubs me the wrong way. I might make another post about this in the future that discusses this in more depth, but as it stands now: while I understand that there is a legacy of misogynistic, ableist, unnuanced takes on Azula, the backlash to that does not take into account the people she hurt or the fact that in ATLA she does not make the choice to pursue redemption. and yes, Zuko had help in making that choice that Azula didn’t, and yes, Azula is a victim of abuse, but in a show about children who have gone through untold horrors and still work to better the lives of the people around them, that is not enough for me to uncritically stan her. 

Conclusion    

misogyny in this fandom runs rampant. while there are some tropes of fandom misogyny that are well-documented and have been debunked numerous times, there are other, subtler forms of misogyny that as far as I know have gone completely unchecked. 

what I find so interesting about misogyny in atla fandom is that it’s clear that it’s perpetrated by people who are aware of fandom misogyny who are actively trying not to be misogynistic. when I first joined atla fandom last summer, memes about how zukka fandom was better than every other fandom because they didn’t hate the female characters who got in the way of their gay ship were extremely prevalent, and there was this sense that *this* fandom was going to model respectful, fun, feminist online fandom. not all of the topes I’ve outlined are exclusive to or even largely utilized in zukka fandom, but a lot of them are. I’ve been in and out of fandom since I was eleven years old, and most of the fandom spaces I’ve been in have been majority-female, and all of them have been incredibly misogynistic. and I always want to know why. why, in these communities created in large part by women, in large part for women, does misogyny run wild? what I realize now is that there’s never going to be a one-size fits all answer to that question. what’s true for 1D fandom on Wattpad in 2012 is absolutely not true for atla fandom on tumblr in 2021. the answers that I’ve cobbled together for previous fandoms don’t work here. 

so, why is atla fandom like this? why did the dream of a feminist fandom almost entirely focused on the romantic relationship between two male characters fall apart? honestly, I think the notion that zukka fandom ever was this way was horrifically ignorant to begin with. from my very first moment in the fandom, I was seeing racism, widespread sexualization of minors, and yes, misogyny. these aspects of the fandom weren’t talked about as much as the crocverse or other, much more fun aspects. further, atla (specifically zukka) fandom misogyny often doesn’t look like the fandom misogyny we’ve become familiar with from like, Sherlock fandom or what have you. for the most part, people don’t actively hate Suki, they just “stan” without actually caring about her. they hate Mai because they believe in treating male victims of abuse equally. they’re not characterizing Toph poorly, they’re writing her as a “strong woman.” in short, people are misogynistic, and then invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of feminist theory to shield themselves from accusations of misogyny. it’s not unlike the way some people will invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of critical race theory to shield themselves from accusations of racism, or how they’ll talk about “freedom of speech” and “the suppression of women’s sexuality” to justify sexualizing minors. the performance of feminism and antiracism is what’s important, not the actual practice. 

if you’ve made it this far, first off, hi, thanks so much for reading, I know this was a lot. second, I would seriously encourage you to be aware of these fandom tropes and to call them out when you see them. elevate the voices of fans who do the work of bringing the female characters of atla to life. invest in the wlw ships in this fandom. drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic (please, drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic). read some yuetara. let’s all be honest about where we are now, and try to do better in the future. I believe in us. 

#fandom crit #longpost #like seriously long post strap in #misogyny #death tw #murder tw #abuse cw #sexualization of minors #ableism #racism #fandom racism #zukka crit #swearing tw #suki #yue #katara #ty lee #mai #toph #azula

[grapesodatozier]

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

------------

June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

------------

June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

-------------

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

-------------

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

---------------

June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

--------

Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

---------

Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #pride #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #love #learning to love yourself #cw:internalized homophobia #cw:homophobic parents #happy ending #but read with care if you have triggers related to internalized homophobia or homophobic parents #you are loved-valued-and accepted

[dameronology]

questioning {natasha romanoff x wlw reader}

summary: natasha had always been able to appreciate women. once she meets you, it becomes clear why {for @stephanieromanoff​ - for some reason i can’t answer your ask but i hope u enjoy this}

warnings; probably swearing?? and mentions of the usual mcu canon typical violence

this is actually my first natasha imagine on this blog which is...wild. because - and i’m sure many people relate - she was my bisexual awakening and i still would let her top me. enjoyy!

-jazz

Sexuality was fluid - Natasha knew that.

She’d just never considered her sexuality to be fluid.

It was funny, really. Natasha had witnessed many forms of beauty in her time as a SHIELD agent; beautiful men, beautiful women, beautiful people. She could appreciate a good-looking human when she saw one but it never extended beyond admiration. Most of her Red Room training had been centred around seducing men. Her friends had always set her up with men. It wasn’t so much that she’d rejected the idea of anything other than heterosexuality but she’d always just kind of...assumed. 

Besides, it wasn’t like Natasha’d ever even been in a position where she’d been close enough to a woman (or anyone, for that matter) to ever consider them in a romantic way. Her job didn’t allow for it - not unless the person she was with was also in her line of work. And, with all due respect to her colleagues, she knew them far, far too well to ever consider the notion of dating one of them. 

Life has a funny way of working out though, doesn’t it? 

You were dropped into Natasha’s lap when she least expected it. It was a cold, rainy Monday afternoon and she was in the staff room at the Compound with Steve. They were sat in comfortable silence, scrolling through their phones. The peace was disrupted by the sound of a crash, followed by a string of curse words.

‘What the...’ Steve stood up, approaching the hallway outside. 

That was the first Nat saw you: with coffee halt spilt down yourself, your bag strewn across the floor and cheeks bright red. It was quite on brand, really. 

‘I am so sorry!’ You dropped to your knees, quickly scrambling to pick the papers up. ‘I was too busy trying to find my office and I went straight into the door frame.’

The first thing Natasha noted was that you were pretty. Not pretty like the girls she’d seen in windows in Amsterdam, or pretty like the slender models she’d seen in London. You were...sparky. Talkative, and bright. There was an energy about you that she was yet to see in anyone else.

You were terrifying too. Not a single person at SHIELD had witnessed someone telling a dad joke whilst throttling a man twice their size, but there was a first time for everything. 

At first, Natasha was convinced that her feelings towards you were simply admiration...for a friend. Because you were friends, right? It was hard not to become close to someone when you spent every second of every day with them. She never thought much of it, though - you were also close with Steve, Sam, Wanda and Bucky. Nothing about your relationship with Nat was different from your others. 

There were a few notable exceptions on her part. She could tolerate you more than anyone else - and that was just the way she worded it in her head, to convince herself that it didn’t mean anything. In actuality, she found herself seeking you out, trying to spend to time with you. She’d do paperwork in your office until the small hours of the morning, and she’d bring you coffee when you both returned to work a few hours later. Natasha had never had a best friend before and it felt good.

‘Do you ever think about relationships in our line of work?’

You looked up from your paperwork, glancing over at Nat. She was sat across from you at your desk, the dim glow of your spotlight illuminating her face. It wasn’t unusual for her to bring up deep subjects when it was late (in this, case it was 1AM). You ponded for a moment, tapping your pen against the edge of your desk. 

‘Sometimes.’ You said. ‘I mean...I wasn’t an Avenger until five months ago, give or take. If I did get into one now, I imagine it would be much more complicated than when I was normal.’

‘You are normal.’ Nat reached across the desk to whack your shoulder, smiling to herself. ‘At least by Avenger standards.’

You chuckled. ‘Honestly, I barely have time to think about relationships now, let alone get into one. My ex-girlfriend asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee and the earliest date I could do was in four months.’

That was the first time Natasha realised that whatever chemistry and easiness was between you, it could have been something more than friends. The sound of the word girlfriend coming out your mouth? It...well, it made her mind go places. No-where drastic, or revealing. It just made her think; the idea of you casually referring to her as your girlfriend in conversation gave her butterflies.

And Natasha Romanoff did not get butterflies. At least not until now. Not until you.

‘How did you know that you liked girls?’ She asked. It was a casual question - one you’d been asked plenty of times.

‘I just knew.’ You shrugged. ‘It’s not the same for everyone, though. Sometimes it takes meeting the right person.’

That was the statement that got Natasha thinking. She’d never even considered the idea of liking girls, not until you’d come along. 

She couldn’t help but let herself day dream - it was a guilty please, in a sense. What would life be like if you were together? What would it be like to call you her girlfriend? To live with you? Natasha was so vehemently against the idea of domesticity...but with you? Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. She didn’t even realise how (for lack of a better word) gay her thoughts were. And when she did? It hit her like a train. 

Natasha had dealt with a lot in her life - aliens, nazis, gods, genocidal robots, evil super spies. It made the situation seem so mundane; she’d become so exceptionally aware of her mortality that things like questioning her sexuality or pondering on her attraction for her best friend just seemed like a waste of time. She’d always been fearless, after all. It had kind of been forced into her nature at the Red Room, and even more so after becoming an Avenger.

It was during another late night conversation that Nat realised her feelings might have been deeper than she realised. She knew that she liked you in a way that ran far deeper than just being best friends; it was just the extent that she was unsure of, and she didn’t want to make a move until she understood it properly. It was like being on a mission really: do some recon, get a better gauge of what’s going on and make a move. 

She hadn’t expected it - it had been nine words. One completely casual sentence. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a conversation. 

‘I saw a TikTok that reminded me of you.’

It was in that moment that Natasha realised, whilst staring at you across your desk with wide-eyes, that she was in love with you. It was a brand new (and not entirely surprising) discovery but it didn’t feel like a shock. The feelings had always been there - it was just the sudden comprehension of them that came as a revelation.

It didn’t have to be complicated. Missions to Russia to take out HYDRA bases were complicated. Teaching Steve and Bucky how to use an iPhone was complicated. This was....well, it was simple, wasn’t it? She loved you. And maybe, just maybe, you loved her too.

Aside from the fact you were just friends, you might as well have been a couple already. You ordered take out together every night and ate it together on the sofa. You drove to work together, and you had a thousand and one inside jokes. The foundations were there but neither of you had ever been all that good at architecture. 

‘It reminded you of me?’ Natasha quickly regained her posture, offering you her signature smirk. ‘I didn’t realise you thought of me outside of work.’

‘Nat.’ You snorted. ‘We hang out after work every night.’

‘I know, I just...’ She trailed off. 

‘You just what?’

‘We should get dinner tonight.’ Nat cleared her throat.

‘Wasn’t that the plan?’ You raised an eyebrow at her. 

‘No, I mean...dinner.’ She sat up a little straighter (ironic). ‘Like a date.’

‘Are you asking me out?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I...’ it was your turn to be a little speechless. ‘Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.’ 

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