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tampatom12 · 6 months

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Law and Order: SVU and the Bradelman of it All

Ok, so for those that are unaware, I am a BIG Law and Order: SVU fan.

I absoutley adore Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler and most of the other characters who have been involved with the show.

That having been said:

In 2011, actor Christopher Meloni's contract was not renewed. Chris had played Elliot Stabler for 12 years at that point and unfortunatly left because the studio/Dick Wolf were not giving him what he deserved.

This left actress Mariska Hargitay, and her character Olivia Benson, REELING. Mariska and as a result, Olivia, struggled deeply with his absence.

Cut to:

April 1st, 2021, aka the day that Chris and Elliot returned to the Law and Order world!!!!

This was the first time in TEN YEARS that Benson and Stabler had seen or even SPOKEN to each other!!!!!

Eventually, in the second half of the episode, they found themselves in a hospital waiting room where they had a LONG overdue conversation about him leaving:

Elliot Stabler: Liv, I'm sorry. Olivia Benson: Elliot, we don't have to do this. [seeing the pain in his eyes] Olivia Benson: Okay. I guess... you wanna do this now. You're sorry for leaving? Or are you sorry for walking... for not giving me the courtesy of telling me? Elliot Stabler: Both. I think I thought if I talked to you about how... Olivia Benson: You walked away. 'Cause that's what you did, Elliot. I had to find out from Cragen. Elliot Stabler: Olivia. Olivia Benson: Elliot. You were the most... single most important person in my life... Elliot Stabler: Olivia. Olivia Benson: And you just... disappeared. Elliot Stabler: I know. I was afraid... if I heard your voice, I wouldn't have been able to leave.

Dialogue directly from the official IMDB page

So...!!

What does all of THIS (⬆⬆⬆⬆) have to do with me posting about this on my NFL side blog instead of my main???

Well, I'm glad you asked!!! :D

You see, I've been thinking about this scene a lot lately in a Tom and Julian context.

As we ALL know, Tom left the Patriots back in 2020, thus leaving Julian behind (while also reuniting with Rob). At the end of episode one, season two of his podcast Games With Names, Julian talked about how Tom didn't even tell him that he was leaving before he left...apperantly, Jules found out when the rest of the world did and read the news on the bottom of a scrolling news ticker.

As soon as this fact was revealed, I was truly SHOCKED.

Tom and Julian had always had a hella tight bond, so it didn't make much sense as to why Tom would leave without saying even one thing to Julian!!!

I was recently rewatching "The Return of the Prodigal Son"-the official name of Elliot's return episode-when the above scene in particular hit me like a semi truck.

It got me thinking about the 2020 Tom and Julian situation in a different context...

What if Tom was like Elliot??

He didn't speak to Julian about leaving before he left because he was afraid that if he heard Julian's voice, he wouldn't have been able to leave.

As low-key insane as this sounds, I also think that this idea is something that makes a whole lot of sense.

Tom and Julian were very much in love with each other, even though it seems that Julian both fell first and fell harder.

Overall, I do think that Tom is a person who doesn't wanna look back once his mind is made up. Bill didn't wanna give him the security of what he wanted, so it makes a lot of sense why he chose to leave after he offically became a free agent.

At the same time, it's intresting to think about what could have happened if Bill had been willing to work with Tom and give him the deal that he very much deserved.

Julian and New England as a whole would have been thrilled, but I also know that then Rob would not have come out of retirement because I've always gotten the sense that once Rob retired from New England, he was done done with that city, even though it is a large part of who he is.

Alright and now: Here is where everyone is at today, in April of 2024:

-Rob and Julian seem to be tighter than ever. They have been hanging out a lot lately and that is in part due to the fact that they are now both on the Fox Sports Network as part of the team that provides commentary about NFL games.

-Rob has been on Games with Names TWICE already for the second season!! Meanwhile, Tom still hasn't been on once. 😳😵😔

-Rob and Julian seemed to have a FANTASTIC time together while in Las Vegas for the Super Bowl this year!!!

They did a ton of events/press together!!! My favorite parts were when Bounty paper towels gave them matching jackets (it is SO boyfriend/husband/partners for life coded!!!) and when they were at Rob's Gronk Beach event together; specifcally because of this moment ⬇⬇⬇⬇

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A post shared by Julian Edelman (@edelman11)

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-Meanwhile, when he isn't endlessly thirst trapping over on Insta stories, Tom is chillin' and hanging out with his kids, either at his fabulous home or out at some kind of resort for a vacation with them.

-He's also still making episodes for his Let's Go! podcast and of course has been golfing a lot too.

-On top of all of this, he is doing promotions for random businesses; basically anything-literally anything-that he can promote, he has been.

-Most recently, he has teased that he may come back to play in the NFL again, but I don't feel like that's gonna happen for real, even though he clearly loves football so much. (Perhaps too much, but that's another topic for a different blog post. 👀👁👄👁)

-He hasn't been completly ignoring Rob and Julian...he's been liking their posts on Instagram and even sometimes throws a comment in here and there; be it on a post-post or through a simple shout-out via Stories.

-Overall though, he has not been as publicily with them as what Rob and Julian have been seen with each other, which is...fine.

-Obvisouly Tom is a VERY busy man, but it's also intresting to see who and what he priortizes. Of course I understand that his children are always gonna come first, but it also seems as though his various business ventures will come over any/all other relationships, even though I know how much Tom truly does value all of the interpersonal realationships he has built over the years.

-Anyway, for this upcoming NFL season, Tom is going to be a lead commentator on Fox Sports, so that will automatically and offically reunite him with Rob and Julian, which is so, SO exciting to me!!!!

-I hope that this reunion leads to more projects between the three of them!!! Maybe Tom will finally agree to come on Games With Names, who knows.

Sooooo...in Summary:

-Tom left Julian in 2020 and Julian didn't even find out from Tom himself.

-After not seeing or speaking to each other for ten whole years, Elliot Stabler told Olivia Benson that if he would have heard her voice after he left, that he actually would not have been able to leave.

-I have intermingled the two above events in my head to mean that Tom wanted to tell Julian that he was leaving but didn't because he feared that if he did, that he would not have actually left New England/the Patriots for real.

-Julian still misses and loves Tom so much even though he has a fantastic relationship with the one and only Robbie G. 🥺🤧🥰

-Tom has been busy this year hangning out and doing odd things, but WILL reunite with Rob and Julian when he offically enters his Television Broadcasting Career Era.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

I have been driving myself a tad insane with all of these thoughts and this post is my way of getting them out!!!! A big thank you to anyone who has stuck around to read all of this; I love and appreciate you more than you know. 😊<3 <3 <3

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thatruerealmwalker · 7 months

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Stranger File: Judgement

Below is a short story and some text introducing a Stranger, one from a group of characters I have been working on, inspired from some things you may have seen on the blog recently.

If you would like to skip the story and get to who the Stranger is themselves, scroll down until you reach their picture.

Please keep in mind that there are some dark subject matter covered here, including references to suicide, death, abuse, ect. Reader digression is Advised

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Within the empty spaces. The ones where you are truly alone. No distractions in sight for your mind to latch to. The whispering growing louder each step you take. Where you should find comfort from the glares, it only gets worse.

They are here now, right behind you. You can barely handle being under their gaze. They have been here, and will always be here, even more now then ever before.

They have been watching you all this time, this Stranger. When you first told your first hurtful lie, they saw through you then. When you first stole and got away, they were right behind you as you ran from that little store. When you first harmed another person for reasons most selfish, they were there, watching you as you beat that girl into the ground.

They never acted, never called you out even if it was truly wrong... they simply sat, and watched. At the time, you would have never realized they were even there.

That was not the only times they were there. The Stranger was there when you opened a door for another person, walking in behind them. The Stranger was there when you gave a gift to another, watching your little sister smile. The Stranger was there when you pulled your friend back from the ledge, gazing at you while you both walked to the stairs.

It was only after the a̷̡̰͕̒̄̀c̴̡̯̈̍͘c̵̨̡͎̄̚i̷̪̘͓̋̀̚d̵̢̗̥̈̀̐e̸̛̹̜̼̓̑n̴͇̱͗͗͜ţ̵̎? did you see the Stranger for the first time. Under that tree covered path, in the shadows made by the forest leaves, their eyes glowing like stars in the night... looking Right. At. You.

You ran at the time, and kept on running ever sense. When they were at your home, right outside your door, you ran. When they were at the mall, looking through a shop's window, you ran. When they were at the funeral, standing right next to your grieving mother, you ran.

You soon found yourself at your sister's school, late one night, she used to come here everyday for her clubs. You walked past the room in which she painted the most beautiful beach you've seen. You walked past the courtyard where she laughed with her best friend. You walked into her classroom, the one where-

The Stranger was there- right at the class- you turned but the door was blocked by shap-

"̶͉̌̒̚S̸̘̘͓͠Í̷̡̨̦T̵͕̪́"̸͉̟̉̍̓

You sat at a seat- why? You don't know, but you did, and you hate that you did.

You could not look at them, your body kept on shaking, you wanted to run but couldn't, you never could have never ran from the start.

You were mad, pissed at this Stranger for forcing their way into something that didn't involve them, so you got up, looked into the b̶̢̗̒̑l̷̨͠u̵͙͑ͅr̷̛̯͝ŕ̶̜̠͠e̸̍ͅd̴̩̏͠?̶̢̳̃͑ face of this bastard- you don't why you said it, you felt as if it was the only thing you could say, and yet, and yet those words cost you everything-

"WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!!!"

The Stranger's mouth twisted into a small yet vindictive grin, thei- no her eyes filled with mirth. And yet she did nothing, and you decided to leave, just DONE with any of this, getting up from your seat and wal-

Her body was in your hands, at the bottom of the cliff. You were mad, so mad that she broke your favorite necklace- yet it wasn't your favorite, she was right. You only kept it because you still wanted your girlfriend back, even after you hurt her, even after you bashed her into the floor of your house for daring to think she could ever leave you.

You were tired of it, tired of how she brought it up all the time, what you did, treating you like some freak... which you were. You thought she had no right... when she really did. and so you shoved her. She wasn't supposed to fall- she wasn't supposed to get hurt- she wasn't supposed to stop breathing...

And the Stranger was there, SHE WAS THERE, watching as you held your little sister's unbreathing CORPSE-

The Stranger has been watching all this time, counting each and every one of your sins. Each good deed, each terrible sin, she has seen them all. She was in the crowd that caught you holding your sister's hand. You could feel her in the eyes of your friends, who knew the truth but didn't say. You swear she was in your mind, filling it with guilt at what you did.

This Stranger, their no longer a Stranger anymore. You know their name, and you know it well. Your soul forever Scared by their influence.

They are Judgement, and they have found you Guilty.

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

The First of the Strangers I'll be introducing. This is Judgement. The one who has seen everything, and has been judging your every action. She judges only by your karma, the totally of your rights and wrongs, uncaring for emotion or reasons. As long as you lie beneath her notice, you have a chance at redemption... But one grand sin or deed may draw her near.

Here are some facts about Judgement.

She likes to keep things quite, mostly speaking only to question choice someone is about to make... but she does not like when people run from her- not. at. all. She finds that when she wants to judge someone, she often lures them into a school house or other places of learning. Treating sinners as children always gives her a laugh. She loves teaching children, and when she finds the time, often teaches them rights and wrongs "so that they won't become those I find guilty". She has a collection of crystal shapes filled with some kind of black smoke that by her words hold those she has deemed "beyond saving". She does not like being around the other Strangers... she cannot judge them like she can with other beings. She will work with them if needed, and do favors and the such, but she still does not find comfort in them. Their is one small thing you really should never bring up to her, and that's something like 'if killing someone to save another is a right or wrong'. She hates when the answer to a deed is grey. It's more work and if she wants any fairness, she has to actually care about the reasons. She likes to read in her spare time... and hates any kind of politics.

The thing about Strangers, is that they can maybe give gifts, share wisdom, join in conversations... but when they are asked for their names, or worse for their name to be spoken... to be become Known... is to allow them to bear their full powers, to no longer be a Stranger, but a Concept.

Trial of Judgement

Should Judgement become known, usually on her terms, Judgement will, if they deem the person before them to deserve a Trial, force the one who now Knows her through their memories. One at a time, all the good and the bad... so that she may make her judgement upon the soul before her.

She accepts that there can be change... but will still see to punishments herself if she find her victim Guilty. Scars, curses, illness and death all fall under that which she employs. She does not believe in good deeds deserving reward... and actions tainted by that want are one of the few things she may not look at as objectively right and wrong.

Should you find yourself deemed to far gone, blacked beyond all? Then she will trap you, and carry you with her forever more.

Wow that was a lot... I'll be making more soon, so keep your eyes out for those!

#Stranger Files #S-Judgement #Stranger #OC #Short Story #Original Story #I don't know what else to tag this-#This was very long #But I loved writing it #Hope it was a good read!

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kizzyedgelll · 1 year

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Hey there, thanks for caring about others but the sick cat post by itsheeva is a scam.

The pet scammer is very frequent on tumblr. They make a new blog, put a few posts on it to seem legit, spam asks to people requesting donations, and then remake when they inevitably get deleted. Remember to try to scroll down to the bottom of a person’s blog, and turn on post timestamps in settings. In this case the person’s blog was created Oct 3 and their donation post was made within only a few hours of the earliest post on their blog. The PayPal they are using is also one used in recent known scam blogs.

Also, never trust a fundraiser that requests PayPal payments through “Friends and Family”. There are other ways to receive donations on PayPal but they request this because payments sent through Friends and Family are not protected against fraud and can’t be refunded. Never send FaF payments to people you don’t know, because you can’t get it back.

More info on scams like these can be found on Kyra45’s blog or if you just look up tumblr pet scams. When you encounter blogs like these, you could report them for spam or phishing.

thank you, anon.

weirdly, this is the second time i received one of these asks, so i'm not gonna reblog any more of those posts if i don't know the op. it hurts me to know that not sharing most of these means that i will not help them get traction and maybe not helping people who actually need, but i just don't have the time to check everyone's blog to see who's legit and who's not.

unfortunately these people are making things harder on everyone by taking advantage of the goodness of others.

#ask #anon #ffs #i hate this sm

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newmediadiscoursearu · 1 year

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You should buy an alarm… FOR FAKE NEWS.

I was recently browsing the internet like any other day when I came across with an ad that diverted me to this news article, ‘London, England: Grandma Gets Attacked Walking To Car, What She Did Next Had The Attacker Running Scared Like A Gutless Coward’.

Now, it is safe to say I was intrigued as to what this ‘grandma’ did to scare an attacker away “like a gutless coward”. So, I decided to read the article only to reaffirm my suspicions. It was fake news.

To come to this conclusion, I first searched the news online to see if there were any other news outlets that could support this article. To my surprise, I found one that had the exact same article. Only there was one difference that immediately set my alarm off. In the first news article it is disclosed that the woman assaulted was 76 years old.

But in the second “news outlet” it says she is 63?

(‘Recent Attacks On Seniors Prompt Police To Issue Public Safety Alert’, El-Telegraph)

Not only the age of the woman do not match, but the text is basically copied and pasted. From this I could state that none of these media outlets were reliable. So I proceeded to do more research about the website that was spreading the news. ‘Safety & Protection’, the name of the site, does not exist besides this article. I scrolled to the very end of the website to try and find some external references or other articles only to come across with a message that read, “This is an advertisement and not an actual news article, blog, or consumer protection update”.

Ok, well that was easy. But most people will not scroll to the very end of the article. In fact, this article is designed to re-direct you somewhere else. To understand this, we have to look at the story. A woman gets assaulted on her way to the supermarket and before the attacker could get her wallet she remembered she had her ‘Safe Personal Alarm’. After using it, she scared the man away.

Right after that, we find a statement saying that “In the month of April alone, the police have reported a dramatic increase in attacks targeting seniors”. But this article fails to provide a source, or even mention the location where these attacks have taken place at. This claim cannot be backed up, but it creates a sense of insecurity for elders who might feel like they need something to protect themselves. “Luckily” by the end of the article, we find a convenient link to buy the ‘Safe Personal Alarm’ that Ruth used to scare her attacker.

Not only that, but you also get a discount if you are an England resident, and you follow the link. And to try and stop the reader from getting to the bottom of the page (where I found that the article was fake), there are a few Facebook comments about how great the product is.

I think it is easy to say that this news article is clearly fake, but its intention is to deceive the reader and create a sense of urgency and fear that they can profit off. If anything, I think our browsers should have an alarm, an alarm for fake news like this.

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sugarbabyariaeva · 2 years

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Baby Steps.

I’ve been thinking about writing a blog for awhile now but I could never decide whether I’d write about my crazy and wild life growing up and how lucky and fun it truly was / is or if I should write about the difficulty of navigating this American society I grew up in but trying to find the proper footing that still acknowledged my modest Islamic middle eastern background and also feel free to do as I pleased like the friends I was raised around. Orrrr if I should write about how I have hit rock bottom in my life many times regarding love & relationships with such narcissistic men because of the relationships I witnessed around me as I grew up and how FINALLY at the ripe age of 25, I’m now realizing how these toxic patterns have truly affected me and have really begun the work of healing myself, my nervous system, meditations, health & working out. Lastly, I wondered if I should talk about my other life.. “Eva’s life” that’s my sugar baby name & poker name that I go by.. & that’s just a whole other story. So I figured this blog could be a little bit of everything. Hopefully whoever comes by my page is interested enough & wants to tag along for the ride.

I woke up this morning & didn’t grab my phone to instantly scroll on Instagram or w/e. I wanted to start my day better today with purpose. I have 99 days till my next birthday so gotta make ‘em count right? Somehow I got lost in my photos app and scrolled all the way to the top and saw the last 4-5 years of my life play out. The pics ranged from me happy with family, traveling with friends and partying it upppp vip everything and just living to me being extremely unhappy, unhealthy, unfocused, essentially felt like I was dying inside. I would lose all of this momentarily for these boyfriends (my last was the most painful-and when I say bf’s I mean recent ones.. they were the same lessons diff issues and w diff men) who were like leeches and sucked the life out of me and it’s was painful to feel and see myself begging for human decency over text message screenshots and being verbally abused and humiliating to look back on. No one really gets why you stay in these types of traumatic relationships but they have a way of creating this unearthly addiction you’ve never felt anywhere else until you met them. Doesn’t help when the guy you’re dating looks like he’s built like a Greek god and as if god put him there for you since he seemed so perfect for you specifically. & on your first date you guys felt like this was what you’d been waiting for for so long. Little did we know that was just our unhealed wounds triggering our nervous systems like “NOOOOO don’t do it” lol but I wasn’t aware yet that those butterflies and initial feelings of “wow this is IT” was just my body trying to warn me. I do think we had love and potential but unfortunately, we highlighted the wounds we both had lying beneath the surface waiting to be dealt with and processed.

As I went through the pics I felt the energy in them and decided that I wouldn’t let it ruin my day. I picked up my laptop and began doing my breathwork and once I finished I was feeling so light and good and GRATEFUL that I made it passed those extremely long painful dark dark dark days that I truly did not know how to. Addiction to people is real and it fucks with your mental stability deeply. If it wasn’t for my aunt coming down to la to visit me and seeing how disastrous I was and my cousin who moved to la going through her own depression aka we needed help lol (not to mention she’s a yogi). I don’t think I’d be here and as stupid as that sounds- I was so deep into this toxicity I know I would’ve gotten sick and most likely died somehow. The min she got here all my body aches and scratchy throat etc went away within a day. I could feel it that my vibration was sooo low and I can truly thank my aunt and my spiritual team for truly helping me so much beyond measure and raising my vibe. It was NOT easy still isn’t sometimes. I cry randomly and then I keep it pushing. Sometimes it lingers but I don’t cry cuz I’m sad. I cry for who I was during those dark times, the pain and abuse I endured.. how now I see that he was a fundamentally malicious, manipulative and a very deceptive being. All because of my “job”. Mind you, I was not sugaring then nor was I in poker really. (Lost my normal office job cuz he took me to Miami and wanted to stay an extra couple days and I had work..& I had been super sick (covid) two weeks before and they needed someone full time and hell nah- it just wasn’t it alignment) nonetheless, I knew I couldn’t do another 9-5 (he didn’t, he was a personal trainer and a trapper) & I wasn’t interested in anyone but him so in my head it was just work and I was there to be a poker hostess. He hated it. His ex did it too and yaaa that didn’t work out. Anywayssss, there is absolutely NO excuse for the way I was treated and I’m here to share with whoever reads this that life is SO much better on the other side once you PROCESS your pain, learn WHY you stayed with someone and WHY you were attracted to them in the first place.

With all this being said, I think we can call this a blog that entails life lessons, health & wellness, & a bit of toxicity as well, cuz.. life is all about balance and I’m a sugar baby & I work extremely private underground high stakes poker games in major cities all over the world lol. I call this my powerful feminine era 🤌🏽

Stick along for the ride. It will be fun✨

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unholyhelbig · 3 years

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Part five is it?? I'm ready but I'm not ready.

It totally is the last part, even though I kind of don't want it to be? I've had so much fun writing Kate and Reader and am totally open to writing more things like this. If it's something you want, my inbox is always open!

You can find all of the Parts here [pinned to the very top of my blog]

Dedicated to🥰 @tak3adeepbreath @simpforyelenabelova

Kate’s heartbeat thudded against your shoulder. It was a consistent rhythm, matching with her breath, hot as it brushed close to your skin. There was an arm around your midsection. It was strong holding you flush to another body. It was a tangle of legs and warm fingers about to the small patch of skin right above your sweatpants.

You held your own breath. When had the two of you moved this close together? The room had a crisp chill to it, windows frosting over during the night. It was out of pure instinct to huddle, and pure pleasure to remain.

She shifted behind you, whimpering into the fabric of your shirt, and your heart fluttered. You hadn’t figured Kate Bishop, scraped up and bruised, to be one for cuddling. But here the two of you were, sun barely creeping across the worn wooden floor, her nose cold from the morning air.

“Pancakes,” She mumbled, voice riddled with sleep.

You could smell them too, wafting from downstairs with a different side of the same Bing Crosby album. There was a tinge of nutmeg that mixed with the snowy scent that Kate carried like a heart on her sleeve. You turned over in her arms, her hold not budging. You were met with an icy silver stare.

“Is that literally all you think about? Pancakes?” You whispered.

Kate's eyes flicked down to your lips then back up to your stare. If you weren’t this close, you would have missed the subtly of it. “Not the only thing I think about.”

Before you could respond she had pulled away from you, her socked feet padding against the floor before she shot a look over her shoulder, silently asking if you’d care to join her. Part of you figured she was just as afraid to face the calvary as you were.

The two of you crept down the stairs like two kids on Christmas day instead of highly capable adults that practically ran a security firm and one that wrote for the newspaper until recently. Your family was crowded around the kitchen island, father whisking soupy batter while your mother poured even circles on top of the griddle.

Steven was on his phone and Clara scrolled through an iPad with the baby on her lap, little fingers pressing against the screen. Garrett was the only one who looked up when the bottom step gave a telling whine like it had for most of your life, leading to more than one reprimanding.

Noelle was hugged into his side, sleep-riddling her eyes. She wore fuzzy pajama pants with little sheep-wielding candy canes on them. They looked comfortable and normal and eased your nerves in a way unexplainable.

“Look who’s decided to join us!” your father said with levity, passing the bowl off to your mother before he grasped a fork and began flipping the bacon.

“Coffee, y/n/n?” Garrett asked

“God, please.”

He handed you his own mug. There was more creamer than coffee, just the way you liked it. There was the vague taste of peppermint. You took three even gulps, letting the warmth move through your body.

Kate’s hand was protectively on the small of your back. She looked tense. It was what you saw from her at least 90% of the time. The other 10 consisted of her lock picking escapades and last night: stare tender and vaguely sad as she pressed her fingertips close to your skin.

“y/n, the funniest thing happened this morning,” Steven said. He clicked the button on the side of his phone and slid it into the front pocket of his unnecessarily tight pants. Compensating for something, you figured.

The man shared a knowing look with Clara, he had a tight-lipped expression against her face. She studied you for a moment before moving to silence the comical noise that suddenly burst from the tablet’s speaker.

Kate frowned and Noelle drew in a sharp breath. You didn’t like the atmosphere that had suddenly been created. The bacon let out a particularly loud snap that made you jump, not usually the one to startle.

“Your father asked me to pick up some more eggs and you wouldn’t believe who I ran into at the grocery store.”

“Oh, just spit it out, Steven.” You growled.

He laughed; the sound venomous “Oliver McCarty. He’s a real family man, decided to make the trip upstate to visit his aunt for the holidays. He’s very talkative, almost too talkative.”

Suddenly the craftsmanship of the wooden island was more interesting than anything else in the room, the way it curved, little faces that had aged with you, never ticked on the doorframes to mark growth. You let out a steady breath and took an easy sip of coffee.

“Y/n?” Your mother’s voice was soft, quiet, and nearly curious.

You knew how this worked. It was the same thing when you were cut from the volleyball team as the middle hitter. They had moved you to second string, and while you knew the coach had called your mother and let her know she coaxed it out of you inch by inch until it seemed like you were willing to tell her anything at no fault of your own.

“Can’t we just focus on pancakes? It’s Christmas.” Noelle said, Kate, nodded, seconding the motion.

She got a fire-filled gaze from your father, audibly snapping her jaw shut. Kate’s eyes were hard, and so was Garretts. The tablet made another squawk and you trailed your fingers against the edge of the mug, dull and white like the rest of the house.

“Spit it out, y/n” Clara mumbled under her breath, tone mocking. “What did Mr. McCarty tell Steven?”

“Enough!” just like the bacon popping the sudden noise of both of Kate’s hands hitting the countertop made you jump. Even your father flinched, all eyes suddenly pulling of you and going straight to the stranger you had brought into the house. She said breathily “You guys are all dicks”

“Katherine!” Your mother gasped

She held her finger up “It’s Kate. Would you like me to repeat it one more time in case you missed it? You guys are dicks. Douche bags, the literal worst, and I’m tired of pretending that you’re not.”

Noelle smiled and lifted both of her eyebrows. Garrett, the large football player with a heart of gold did nothing but watch, despite your father fully expecting him to grab Kate by the shoulders and throw her out into the cold.

“You’re just going to let her speak to us that way?” Clara was standing now.

“I’m not going to let her do anything. Kate makes her own choices.”

“Y/n got fired!” Steven shouted out, like a child, cutting through the already sharp conversation.

Something inside you snapped, something that had been heavy for a long time. The same thing that limited your home visits to only two days a year and a few facetimes that gave you control of when to close the lid of your laptop. Kate was right, you knew she was, she had always been, her fingers still strong against your back, nearly holding you up.

“Oh, big deal, Steven, at least she has a career.” Noelle chimed in, holding herself a little taller than you had ever seen her before. “What the hell do you even do? Huh?”

“I hedge funds.” He defended.

“No one knows what that means!” You threw your hands up in the air.

“Everyone enough!” Your father yelled. He rarely ever did. He was a stoic man who often stood behind your mother with his arms crossed and his eyes stone cold. But the bacon had started to burn, and the pancakes were charred, and Clara’s baby had crawled off with an expensive piece of technology that you doubted had child lock.

He took a deep breath and looked at Kate “I want you out of my house. We’ve never had a Christmas like this, and suddenly now that you’re here? It turns into this. You can catch a train back to the city in an hour. Hell, I’ll drive you to the station myself.”

Clara huffed triumphantly and crossed her arms over her chest.

“No,” you said. You were met with the same glare that had silenced Noelle only moments ago but kept your composure. “We’re both, leaving, actually.”

“You’ll break your mothers’ heart.” He shot back at you.

“Does mine matter?” you asked, voice not wavering “Kate is important to me, and just because she sees what you refuse to, you want to have her travel alone, on Christmas day back to an empty apartment? No. Nothing, I have ever wanted, or done has been considered, and until it is, I’m done.”

“Hell yeah, babe” She gave you a wide smile, moving her arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. “Douche bags.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Your parents watched you with dark expressions as you loaded up the car, breath held, and mouths pressed into something akin to a frown. Part of you felt guilty, a small edge of it creeping up. But each time Kate brushed your hand, of gave you a slight smile that dissipated.

A clear coating of snow had brandished the drive, leading back out to the highway that gave you a bland feeling of comfort. When you had loaded the last bag, you turned to look at them, standing like one of your many holiday cards. Something was off, quiet and sharp like the air around you.

Kate pressed her nose close to your cheek, flushed from the cold. “I’ll wait in the car, I’m here if you need me.”

She had been gone for just a moment, but you already needed her, a complete stranger with a slick tongue and lock picking abilities. It was far from what you thought your Christmas would be, but it was, your hands numb from the brisk air. You let out a breath that clouded in front of you, pushing until your lungs ached.

“One more thing,” You said, loud enough for all of them to hear you. “Kate’s not my girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Clara scoffed.

You held up your gloved hand, frowning “I felt the need to bring someone as a fake date in order to fit some… some vision of what you think a perfect family is, to fit the pressure that you’ve put on me, and Garrett, and fuck, even Clara our whole lives. It’s not up to me to tell you that, you have to realize it on your own.”

Your mother opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“I’m a damn good writer.” Your voice didn’t’ falter, this was the first time you said it out loud. “Despite the fact that neither of you has ever been proud of me, a lot of people are. Including Kate. It was foolish of me to not see it before.”

There was a breath deep inside that you had been holding onto, something that could finally be let out, culminated into something more. You worked your hand through your hair and swallowed whatever taste of relief that was left on your tongue.

You turned to move back towards the car, keys in your grasp. A hand grasped your elbow. Garrett held a tender gaze behind his eyes, the ghost of a sad smile against his lips. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time, it felt like a finality.

“Word of advice, little sister.” His voice was raspy, quiet compared to the snow “That girl in the car, she cares about you. It might have been a façade to impress mom and dad, but anyone can see it from a mile away. Except you, apparently.”

“Garret,” You breathed out

“She needed to push you to see what we all did before and didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. It’s my turn to tell you. If you let her go that’ll be your worst decision. Not all of this. All of this… doesn’t matter.”

You hugged him, feeling his arms engulf you, the scent of his vanilla-based cologne coated your lungs, sweater soft against your cheek. Your mother let out a sigh that could be heard from the porch and you pulled away from him, giving him a sad smile.

The first half of the car ride was mostly silent. You had tried picking a radio station, but they all predictably played holiday music on a pre-planned loop. Every station manager ripping festive paper from gifts long ago planned. Eventually, Kate reached over and turned the music off when the start of a Bing Crosby song hit the quiet. You settled for the sound of tires against asphalt from then on.

“Thank you,” you said.

“For what?” Kate scoffed “I’m pretty sure my only objective was to make your family think we’re a couple and not explode your whole dynamic over pancakes.”

“Oh, come on, you actually did a very good job. Being my girlfriend, I mean. No one has ever stood up for me like that before, including me. You saw something I was too afraid to admit.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to stare out the window. “Yeah, well. I tend to take in strays. Like trash dogs… and you.”

“You’re not winning any points comparing me to an animal that eats week-old pizza.”

Kate’s smile was gentle, her eyes crinkling at the gesture. You scoffed and pulled off the highway, far from the destination of the city. There was a small 24-hour diner that your father used to take you to on his way back from days in court. He rewarded you for your patience, coloring with ballpoint pens on the back of legal documents, eventually drifting into writing stories that would place you far away from small rooms filled with old books.

The girl in your passenger seat gave you a strange look as you turned the car off. This place had the best pancakes, slathered in fresh-picked strawberries from spring seasons, and dripping maple syrup that was imported from Massachusetts.

The two of you exited the car. It had started to snow again, large wet flakes that stuck instantly to the windshield of the car and melted into drops of rain. You rounded the front of the building, the scent of breakfast pooled against your lungs, eggs, and bacon and the famed pancake batter that drew you here in the first place.

Kate’s fingers wrapped around the collar of your coat in a fluid, yet sophisticated motion. It wasn’t clumsy or rushed, it was undeniably precise and calculated for a girl that had to apply antiseptic to the same cuts that always seemed to litter her complexion.

She pulled you flush against her, icy eyes begging for permission that you gave in a small nod, breathless. Kate kissed you. It was sure and hard. You could taste the outdoors in her lips, the dedication. Your hands tangled through her hair, her fingers pressed nicely against your jaw, holding you steady. Your heart beat faster and faster, making your ribs ache, breath quicken.

When she pulled away, there was an inclination for more, to feel her touch all over again, to breathe in her scent, and to wipe away the stray flakes of snow that clouded her softhearted gaze. She pushed out a small sigh. “I have wanted to do that since you caught me breaking into Moira Brandon’s apartment.”

“She’s not really your aunt, is she?” You asked, forehead pressed against hers.

“Oh no, she is. Twice removed. Still sends cards.”

#Kate Bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x gender neutral reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #Christmas au #hawkeye #hawkeye series #hawkeye disney+

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grapesodatozier · 3 years

Text

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

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pure-a-tea · 2 years

Note

thank you for all the questions!!! where do you get your inspiration from for your mobile themes, what’s your current favorite song and what would you say your aesthetic is?! 💕💕💕

omg- happily, sweetie!! and thank you for asking me back, i genuinely appreciate that <3 anyways, here are my long, boring-ass answers, lol. you don't have to read this, but i enjoyed writing this for you xx

re: "where do you get your inspiration for your mobile themes?"

i assume you're asking about my tumblr theme on mobile? 'cause if you do, i don't really get a specific inspiration. it's basically my preference for aesthetics. i will, however, explain more about it if you're interested, lol.

. colour theme: i went with a light blue colour (#7b8590) because i personally prefer desaturated colours; pastel-like. not really sure how to describe them, but basically faded colours that aren't too saturated or bright. i just feel like lighter colours are easier on the eyes.

. header: i found the stars and moon gif when i was scrolling through tumblr and i liked it so i thought i'd be nice to use a header with some dynamics to it. when i found that it fit the header size, i thought it looked better when it didn't stretch to fill it, and i actually thought it looked better when it gets a nice border with that setting.

. profile picture: i thought my profile picture was distracting and it was bothering me, so i disabled it. however, i was still looking for something because i noticed that my profile pic constantly shows up on different occasions. so, i chose that picture specifically because it wasn't too strong or distracting -- it gives my profile a nice, softer look. i also chose one with a subject that is close to my heart so it'd be more personal. like a personal blog, yk? and i really love cats, haha.

. bio: i just wrote some general info about myself, not wanting to overshare but still add something about myself. so i wrote my name with pronouns, age, sexuality, and my two fav people out of all of my fandoms. i thought it looked more spacious when i add space between each word and character (for ex. "( she / her )"). there isn't an option on tumblr to add a new line so i divided each subject with a "|".

re: "what's your current favourite song?"

i always find that question hard to answer because i have so many songs that i love, and i can never choose just one, lmao. if you don't mind, though, i will write my current top 5 favourite songs:

i. phantogram - black out days it's been in my top 5 songs on spotify for three years in a row, apparently!!

ii. billie eilish - happier than ever honestly i have so many favourite songs by her, but this one is probably the one i listen to the most. also, she was my top artist on spotify for 2 or 3 years in a row. unintentionally.

iii. the front bottoms - twin size mattress this song can just randomly pop into my head for no reason. and i love it!

iv. mitski - nobody lowkey can listen to this song on repeat and never get tired of hearing it!! and i love mitski!!

v. steve lacy - dark red i relate to the words a bit too much and i've been listening to this over and over ever since my recent breakup.

bonus: billie eilish - nda // arctic monkeys - 505 because they're both one of my fav artists and i've been obsessed with the parts that editors use on tiktok/insta edits.

re: "what would you say your favourite aesthetic is?"

that's such a tough one! because i don't have just one aesthetic, and it usually changed with my moods. for example, many people would probably say that my aesthetic is somewhere in the softcore or naturecore or even fairycore, and that is accurate on some days, but sometimes my aesthetics could be like grunge or vintage or darkcore... sometimes, i even have a dark academia or royaltycore.

funnily enough, my aesthetics could also come in colours! for example, i could suddenly have an aesthetic for everything blue (dark and light separately), yellow (because i have a hufflepuff heart), green (sometimes the nature green, but sometimes the evil/slytherin green). i also always have a place in my heart for purple, and in autumn i have a very strong red/orange aesthetic. one time i got a short pink aesthetic, lol.

ANYWAYS- this is it!! sorry that it's so long and i'm even more sorry that it might be boring, hehe... i really appreciate that you asked, it really warmed my heart <3

hope you have/you've had an amazing day xx

#asks #get to know me #get to know the blogger #personal #puckssbunny #aesthetics #my aesthetics #aesthetic

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a-dragons-journal · 3 years

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Hi! I was scrolling through the otherkin tag (as one does) and saw on an ask you answered that you hated DNIs and didn’t want to go into it on that ask. So I’m curious now- why do you hate DNIs? I don’t have a DNI, and I’m not out to try and change your mind. I’ve just never seen anyone say outright that they didn’t like DNIs, so I’d really like to hear your thoughts. Thanks!

I ended up indeed going into it later, because people kept sending in asks about it, so this tag exists now, but in summary:

- I don't necessarily hate the existence of DNIs, because they can be a useful tool in certain circumstances, but I hate that they're starting to become an expectation/requirement and that it's now considered "creepy/suspicious" in a growing number of communities to not have one. It should not be an obligation to basically list your political stances, discourse opinions, and triggers - you know, things you can be attacked for/people can use to hurt you - in any circumstance, least of all on the Internet where anyone can see it.

- For that matter, putting a list of things that can hurt you in public where anyone can see it and know exactly how to target you if they want to hurt/harass you is a bad idea, whether it's a social requirement or not. Full stop. Unless you are in a relatively small group where you know the intentions of the people there (and often not even then!), it is not a good idea to tell people how to effectively hurt you on the Internet.

- I hate it when people put "[x bigoted group] DNI" at the bottom of actual discussion-type content posts (as opposed to, like, aesthetics and stuff), such as people putting "TERFs DNI" at the bottom of posts about feminism, because a) if you're worried about your post appealing to that group, maybe you should reexamine your post's content, b) I've seen firsthand more than once that those groups, TERFs especially, will purposely put "[x] DNI" at the bottom of their crypto-rhetoric posts in order to turn people's critical thinking skills off and make them more likely to accept the crypto rhetoric (foot-in-the-door tactic), and c) even if it's not intentionally malicious like the last point, it still makes it so the OP's post is suddenly immune to criticism, because "hey this comes off a little transphobic" can be met with "how dare you call me a transphobe?? I said 'TERFs DNI' right there!!1!", which, again, has to do with the whole "turning people's critical thinking skills off" problem.

- On a similar note, I hate this recent trend toward performative activism and "racists/transphobes/homophobes/etc. DNI!1!" feels like another permutation of that; I don’t like people demanding/expecting me to announce all my political opinions right out the gate. It should be my decision whether or not I want to share sensitive information about myself (and if you’re scoffing at the idea of a political opinion being “sensitive information” - if it can get you, again, harassed and attacked by a complete stranger, it’s sensitive information).

- People seem to forget that people can, will, and do lie on their DNIs and bios. Predators will lie about being "under 18” in order to make minors they’re interacting with feel safe and let their guard down. TERFs will lie about “transphobes DNI!” to ensure their crypto rhetoric spreads and gets a foot in the door of trans-supporting people’s thought processes. All “it’s to let the people affected by [bigotry] know I’m safe,” which is something I hear sometimes, really means is that the bigot in question only has to put up a DNI to make the people they’re planning to target lower their guard. There is nothing guaranteeing that someone actually believes what their DNI implies they believe. It’s an illusion of safety that just doesn’t - and, really, can’t - exist on the internet, by the internet’s nature. And people thinking they’re safer than they really are is what gets people hurt because they stopped being careful. I’m not saying people need to (or should) live in fear, but relying on DNIs is not a sustainable solution, imho.

- I hate people using DNIs/BYFs as an alternative to blocklists because it often becomes essentially them forcing other people to curate their internet experience for them, and then getting mad (or hurt) when that doesn't work out for reasons that should be obvious. Especially when you take it to the extreme of trying to regulate anyone who reblogs your posts, which I have seen sometimes - you can't seriously expect people to check the OP of every single person whose post they reblog to make sure they agree with your opinions on fandom discourse; that's untenable and it can only lead to people getting hurt. You are the only person who is - and the only person who can be - responsible for your internet experience. Curate your own space.

- as a minor point, "standard DNI criteria" is becoming a popular phrase and it's frankly a useless phrase because there's no such thing. Beyond "racists/homophobes/transphobes" there's literally no telling what a given person includes in what's "standard" - pro- or anti-ship? SFW agereg/petreg blogs? DDLG? Steven Universe fans? inclusionists or exclusionists? There is no "standard." (But then, I feel like how common that phrase is becoming says something about exactly how performative and empty the trend of DNIs is as a whole at this point in time.)

- also as a minor point, I am frankly just not a fan of how often DNIs put things like "Steven Universe fan" and "neonazi" right next to each other like they're the same level of bad. I recognize consciously that this is not the intention, but it sure does come off that way sometimes. It reminds me a bit too much of those callout posts that have six pages about the person's bad opinions on anime or whatever and only then go "oh yeah and also they sexually abused, threatened, and sent their friends to harass a minor and we have screenshot evidence of all of that. anyway here's three more pages about why their art is bad because they drew a 16-year-old in a crop top one time".

And, let me be very clear here: I do not hate people who have DNIs, nor do I want to act like they're never useful. They are, sometimes! But I do feel they're being misused and they're starting to become an expectation and that's a huge problem, for the same reason that people trying to force everyone to put their age/basic personal information in their bios is a problem - it's a safety concern. I am honestly convinced that at this point, in most circumstances, DNIs are doing more harm than good.

If you want to use a DNI, that's up to you, and it's not like I'm gonna harass people about it ('s why I started that "dni critical" tag, so people could who don't want to read this stuff could avoid it) - but I want people to at least understand the risks they're taking depending on how they go about it. If it's useful to you, then good, I'm genuinely glad! It just concerns me how it's being treated by the larger Internet right now.

(And, of course, that's all just my personal subjective opinion - take what you like, leave what you don't. You're more than welcome to disagree with me; this is not a make-or-break argument for me, just one I have strong feelings about xD)

#dni critical #rani talks #asked and answered #dragons-singing-softly #that was probably more of a soapbox than you bargained for sorry fbdklgjsf #do not @ me about my fandom examples i just grabbed random controversial ones off the top of my head #if that's what you prioritize out of this whole post you have entirely missed the point

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fanfic-corner · 3 years

Text

spoken words aren't for you (I just don't like them)

1.7k - After Cas comes back from the Empty, Dean isn't sure what to do with his feelings, so he goes online for some friendly advice.

Read on AO3.

There’s a lot of things that Dean Winchester knows. For example, he knows how to make silver bullets. He knows how to behead a vampire. He knows how to fix the Impala. One thing he doesn’t know, however, is how to deal with bringing your best friend of twelve years back from the dead after he confessed his undying love for you.

He doubts there is much advice out there for this particular situation.

He scours the internet anyway, of course, because that is what he has been doing to learn new information for the past thirty years, ever since his dad decided to stop being a dad and started expecting Dean to parent himself and Sammy.

As predicted, all the results including the phrase “back from the dead” either lead him to the websites for horror movies (which he does read, since he might as well add some things to his watchlist while he is there), or discussions about necromancy, which he can confidently say are mostly horseshit. There are plenty of articles on dealing with someone who has a crush on you, when he tries a more ambiguous search, but most of them either explain how to let people down gently or end up with the couple getting married and living out their perfect, stupid, happy ever after.

Dean isn’t really sure which option he would prefer, in this situation.

He scrolls to the bottom of one blog - advice given to a young woman whose best friend confessed he has had feelings for her for years, while hers remain strictly platonic - when he sees the button at the bottom: Want advice from your Agony Aunt? Email me with your troubles here!

Dean hovers the mouse over it, for just a moment. It’s a ridiculous idea, really. He should just go out there and talk to Cas like a man and get the awkwardness over with. But he clicks anyway, shrugging to himself. It can’t hurt anyone, right?

Dear Agony Aunt, he types, already feeling stupid. I have a problem, and I don’t know who else to ask for advice.

He nearly exits out of the email right then and there, but something in the back of his mind urges him to continue.

Best to leave the exact details out, Dean decides. My best friend of twelve years - one of my only friends, really - was recently in a situation where he thought he was going to die. On his deathbed, he made a huge speech, saying that his true happiness was loving me, and that he thought it was something he could never have. He had made peace with having unrequited feelings for me for all this time, and he never expected to get anything in return.

Luckily - and to the surprise of everyone - he managed to survive. I thought I would never have to deal with his confession, but now he lives in the same house as me and it’s awkward whenever we see each other because I don’t know what to tell him. He’s expecting a response, and I don’t have one for him.

Until he said “I love you” to me, I hadn’t even considered the possibility that we could be in a relationship. I’ve been with guys and girls before, so sexuality isn’t a problem for me, but he had always seemed a little out of touch, so I assumed it wasn’t really his thing. I don’t necessarily want to say no to him, but I’m also scared that if I say yes, then our relationship will never go back to the way it was and it could ruin us.

Dean takes a big breath, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like a whiny bitch and he knows it - Sammy would be laughing his ass off if he could read this now - but he forces himself to finish anyway.

Any advice would be appreciated. I really don’t know what to do, and I don’t think either of us can keep trying to avoid each other for much longer.

-Dean.

Without giving himself a moment to reread it or doubt his decision, Dean sends the email, slamming his laptop shut.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, popping his head around the kitchen door and staring at Dean suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Dean replies, a little too quickly.

Sam narrows his eyes but decides not to push. “I’m going to stay with Eileen. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Dean nods, trying to pretend that this is absolutely fine with him. “Tell her I said hi.”

After a moment of hesitation, Sam asks, “You’ll be okay, right?”

He flashes him his most convincing smile. “I’ll be fine. Have fun, Sammy. You’ve earned it.”

As Dean predicted, things get even more awkward around the bunker without Sam to act as a buffer. He spends most of his days in his bedroom, binging horror movies in his sweatpants, only leaving when he has to make food. He always makes enough for Cas and leaves it on a plate wrapped in tinfoil, just in case he needs to eat food now.

Dean hasn’t held a conversation with him for long enough since he came back to know.

A few days pass, and Dean forgets about the email entirely. He’s pretty sure those websites are a scam, and besides, his situation is weird enough to warrant being ignored.

Then one day, he is pouring his morning coffee when he receives an email notification. All it contains is a link to the Agony Aunt’s blog, and a single phrase: I hope things get better for you!

Dean clicks the link, not sure what to expect.

Dear Dean, it begins, and he can already feel his palms beginning to sweat.

I’m so sorry to hear that your friend was in an accident, but I’m glad he is okay now! I’m sure that was a very traumatic time for both of you, and it is good to hear you got through it.

“Oh lady,” Dean mutters. “You have no idea.”

Now, from what you have written, it is clear that the confession your friend made led to quite a shock. I often get messages from people who are unsure how to deal with other people’s feelings, but it is a rare occasion that they aren’t sure how to react. Usually, they ask me how to move someone to the ‘friendzone’, or how to move a friendship to a relationship. It seems to me that you have yet to decide which one of these you would like to choose.

Listen to me, Dean: I could sit here and write an essay on the pros and cons of each option, but I will never know the exact circumstances of your situation, so it will never feel right. Ultimately, the decision has to be up to you. Would you like your relationship to stay the same as it was before? You mention that your friend has never expected anything of you beforehand, so I doubt he will expect anything of you now if you choose to let him down gently. Or would you like to take the brave step and try and transform your relationship into something more? If this is the case, then you mustn't be scared of losing him. He has stayed by your side for twelve years, and has even defied death to be with you. The potential of more is always worth the risk, trust me.

All I can suggest in this case is to decide, and to decide quickly. If you continue to ignore and avoid your feelings instead of facing up to them, then you will lose him entirely - both as a friend and a potential lover.

So, Dean, what will you choose?

Yours,

Agony Aunt.

Dean stares at his phone for a very long time. The woman behind the screen has no idea exactly how many times Cas has defied death to be by his side, and how they had both saved each other. The last line rings in his head, repeating over and over like a mantra.

So, Dean, what will you choose?

“Dean?” Cas’ gravelly voice jerks him out of his thoughts. “What are you doing?”

He looks down and realises that he has poured coffee all over the counter. He’s lucky he hasn’t scalded himself. “Uh… I just got a bit distracted, I guess.”

“Oh,” Cas answers, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. “Thank you for all the meals you have been leaving.”

Dean spaces out for a minute, forgetting that he had done that entirely. “No worries, dude,” he manages to answer, the question still bouncing around his head like the DVD logo on a TV screen. So, Dean, what will you choose?

She’s right, he thinks suddenly. She is utterly and completely right. He needs to make a decision.

“I choose you,” Dean declares, not realising he has said it out loud until it is too late.

“Pardon?” Cas asks politely, squinting at him.

“I, uh - sorry, that was a shit way of phrasing it, I sound like I’m playing Pokemon.” He lets out a nervous laugh, his brain screaming at him to say something. This is his last moment to back out. If he wanted, he could brush it off as a weird comment and retreat back to his room, leaving his problems for Future Dean.

“What you said,” he says instead, stumbling over his words. “Before you died, I mean. I guess I had to think about it for a bit because I’m pretty fucked up and my brain sorta short-circuited, and I was so focused on getting you back that I never really stopped to think-”

He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath in. “What I mean to say,” he states slowly, lifting his head up to look Cas in the eye. “Is that I’m an idiot. But I’m an idiot who loves you, so…”

Cas’ entire body seems to melt under the statement. “Really?” he asks, as if Dean would be cruel enough to mess with his feelings like that. “I thought you hated me. You’ve been ignoring me ever since I came back, so I assumed-”

Dean crosses the room in three easy strides, pulling Cas into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling him close. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’ll probably fuck things up along the way… but I love you man, I think I have for a long, long time.”

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #my writing #lina lore #this fic was a complete accident but. uh. enjoy

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