#I want to write about this but I’m in perpetual writers block

[impasta-wall]

I’d like to believe there is a parallel; somewhere in the crevices of time between Icarus and his father Daedalus, and Rooster and his godfather Maverick.

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (One)

Note: I'm having the WORST writer's block now so pls excuse my lack of proper writing... I'm currently sitting in front of a beach writing in hopes that ill gain inspo

CW: Angst, mentions of sex, jealous/possessive Simon, PLS DONT LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR !!! Or break into someone’s house

Inspired by: Ex!Husband Simon

PART TWO

Simon stared at you. The shades of his eyes simmering into endless voids of obsidian, blonde lashes moulded against his greased lids, the residue of the perpetual torture his body had succumbed to during deployment.

“You want a divorce?” He spoke, voice deep as he flickered between your shaking heads, sweat soiling into the papers gripped firmly and your swollen face, cheeks feverish with a red hue, eyes even more so.

You held back a rough sob, throat stripped of all moisture evident in your hoarse voice as you spoke, “Yes, Simon. I think it would be best for our family… for us.”

He scoffed. “You think the best thing for our family is to separate?”

“We already pretty much are. You’re away for days, weeks, months at a time. We’re hardly a family and it’s difficult to explain to the children why I’m crying.”

“Ok then.”

That was it. You would admit, it stung. His lacklustre tone felt like a stab in the gut, the blade drenched with anthrax as it reared blistering sores internally, the effects having shown through your putrid complexion. Your skin was dull, practically lifeless, the only living form of you grew day by day through the darkening of eyebags that almost made you look apocalyptic.

It had been 12 months of separation, officially 8 being legally divorced. You kept his last name, the permanent burn of hearing Mrs Riley still searing through you with every syllable, yet you feel it would only hurt you more if they said Ms.

Simon was often away now, and the minimal family time he used to get felt pointless as the shabby apartment he moved into after the sudden interference of your mind-boggling news barely fit the two kids you shared. His body felt more relentless on him, the taunting of his mind fulgurated the inoperative reality that he would come home to you, to his family.

His voice, almost like it dropped an octave had grown richer in aggression, tormenting those he deemed suitable, both with his tongue and with his bruised knuckles, an oil painting of blue and purple hues radiating across the pale flesh as he shrugged it off to his team as “pushing himself and others to do better”.

Couldn’t you realise your mistake? Wouldn’t you prefer crying in his arms about his absence than never having it fulfilled again?

As he looked around the bleak environment, tan stained walls revolting the creaking mattress he had brought someone home to, someone who wasn’t you. It made him feel sick like a viral infection had slunk its way into his bloodstream as he laid next to a woman that failed to make his cock throb, endless images of you sprawled out under him flickering. No wonder he called out your name instead.

You felt the familiar shake of your hands every time your phone dinged; Simon’s dreary tone was evident through his dry “On the way” text. You ushered a day of your children’s life into their cartoon-themed backpacks, innocent smiles adorning their skin, doe-like eyes of brown, far too familiar to Simon’s staring up at you.

The sound of his car scraping into your paved driveway almost made you feel like throwing up, the nerves of seeing him combined with the already present pit of anxiety due to your date later turning you into one big shaky mess as you brushed it off as “too much caffeine”.

The echo of his car door slamming shut rung through your ears, staining you with the reiteration that your ex-husband was now at your door, heavy fists knocking upon the wood. The image you saw of him in your mind morphed back to reality as you stared at him, a blank expression on your face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi, Simon.”

Your frown was clear, the pet name you were so used to becoming a distant memory in the past few months. It was a hole you were attempting to fill, to clear yourself away from his teasing tongue and faux impression of a healthy relationship. You were divorced for a reason, you knew that, but as you gazed upon the lack of life in his skin, it was almost like he was holding a mirror up to you.

“Daddy!” You watched as your 5-year-old, Ella, practically leapt into his hefty frame, his hands coiling around her like second nature. You could feel his warmth, the heat that would build in your stomach when you felt those same digits touch you.

“Hi sweetheart,” his voice gruff, yet tone lighter as he placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her forehead, “You miss me?”

She nodded, her face buried in the hem of his neck as your other child cooed from the bouncy chair, tubby legs attempting to wheel himself to the door.

“There’s my boy,” Simon practically cooed as he placed Ella down, bounding inside as he lifted the toddler out, grabby arms reaching out to pull at Simon’s locks, gentle tugs causing you to laugh.

Your voice cut through the scene like glass. Why would you want to destroy such a happy moment? Weren’t you supposed to be reuniting? Just say it, tell Simon you want him to come home, that you need him.

“This is Ella’s bag,” you speak, holding up the pink Minnie Mouse bag, “And this is Toby’s.” Your son giggled as he muffled out the words, “Transformers”.

Simon nodded, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Ella practically screeched, “Mummy’s going on a date!” The thrill of her laughter that followed only seemed to make the situation more awkward.

“A date?” Simon’s voice was deadly, the hair raising on your arms as you shook your head, a tight smile on your suddenly dry lips.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just catching up with an old colleague of mine.”

“But he’s a boy, Mummy,” Ella giggled. Who was raising your daughter to be such a big mouth? Your face formed an annoyed look, eyebrows raising as a line of wrinkles crinkled against your forehead, your pointer fingers massaging your temples.

“An old colleague?” Simon practically gasped. Had he met him at your old work Xmas parties?

“Let’s get you guys in the car.” You fumbled with Toby’s car seat as you strapped him in, your nimble fingers shaking with anxiety before you shut the door, pressing a kiss against the window before wiping away the minimal residue of dirt. Gross.

“Who is he?” His tone was acerbic like he was looking for an argument. How dare you try and replace him? He was your husband, the father of your two kids? Have you seen this random man before? Had he fucked you?

“God, Simon-“

“Who is he?” Simon was relentless, bullying his way into getting the answers as his arms folded across his chest, tattoos practically screaming at you too.

“His name’s Andrew. I ran into him at a coffee shop a few weeks back and he just wanted to catch up. That’s it.”

A loud scoff sounded in the air. “You mean that geezer from that corporate job you hated? The one who didn’t know it was weird to blatantly stare down your dress when you were standing next to your fucking husband?”

“He didn’t stare down my dress! You’re not my husband anymore, Simon. I can see who I want.”

“I don’t want our children to grow up thinking they have multiple dads.”

You’ll admit, that stung.

“Multiple dads? You’re out of your mind. The only reason they would ever believe they have multiple dads is if their real one stopped showing up. And where have you been, Simon? When have you shown up?”

Simon held his tongue, the warmth of the metallic taste gashing through his teeth as he practically snarled past you. “I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

The dress you wore was practically suffocating you as you tucked your stomach in. Simon never minded the change in your figure after motherhood, he found himself liking it even more. He loved knowing that his seed put you through that, that he made you swell with his children, and he brought out the glow in your cheeks and the delicate stretch marks that laced your hips.

Andrew was nice. His tone was comforting as he walked to your door, ushering you to his car as he insisted you could order whatever you wanted. He was handsome, the salt and pepper hues of his hair settling your insecurity.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir,” he spoke, looking at you with an almost arrogant sheer in his blue eyes. You only liked white. Simon knew that just like he knew everything about y-

You’re not with Simon anymore. You had to realise that. Maybe that’s why you brought Andrew home, let him shove his cock (that was a lot smaller than what you were used to) inside your heat, as you let out moans you had mimicked from the porn you watched with the actor that resembled far too much of your ex-husband.

Simon's fingers gripped the steering wheel early the next morning, your two children snuggled up in the backseat as he drove back to his old house, your old home. He wasn’t a man who gave up easy, he would show you, prove to you that you made a mistake. You needed each other.

Hold on. You don’t drive a red car?

His car lurched into the entrance of your home, nearly ramming into the garage as he shoved it in park, rolling down the two back windows slightly for air as he dug around in the small side compartment of his car.

The familiar gold key he had stolen from you the night he packed up all his stuff stared back at him, practically egging him on. Go on Simon, march in there. So he did. His hand rattled against the door knob, glancing back to peak into the car for a second before he slammed the door shut.

Your body froze. Were you being robbed? No. It was only Simon. A very angry-looking Simon. You stood, the white sheet barely shielding your naked body as he took in the sight of the man next to you, his hands wrapping around his shoulders as he practically ripped him out of bed, flinging him onto the floor as he grunted, eyes reared with hatred.

“Simon, what the fuck are you doing? WHERE ARE THE KIDS?”

Andrew groaned, on the floor, covering his groin as Simon chucked the masculine clothes at his head, the thin boxers soiled across the man’s scalp as he trembled.

“Our kids are asleep in the car, waiting for their Mummy to come to the zoo with them.” Simon’s words were despicable, laced with an acrimonious tone, small particles of spit seething through his lips as stared at you.

He turned to the man, a giant frame staggering over the top of him. “Get the fuck out, and if you wake up our kids when you go past, I will personally put a bullet straight in the middle of your skull,” he said, pushing a thick digit against his forehead as Andrew rushed out, clothes barely on before you felt the front door shut, a cry of apologises leaving your lips as you tried to assist him but Simon only held you back, a tight grip coiling around your arm.

“What the fuck was that? How’d you get in?” You couldn’t even place the words to say, humiliation roaring through you as you snuggled the sheet closer to you, away from his peering eyes.

“It’s time to be a family again, don’t you think love?”

[itoshiexx]

thin line

synopsis: four times itoshi rin said he hated you, and the one time he finally said the truth.

pairing: itoshi rin x gn!reader | words: 5k (insane) | warnings: enemies to (implied) lovers, cursing (rin being rin), rin is a total tsundere and emotionally constipated, banter, teasing, one (1) sexual implication towards the end, i use the word hate a lot, kinda proofread

notes: oh my GOD. you have no idea how hard it was for me to write (and finish!) this. writer's block has been kicking my ass really hard and honestly i don't even know if i like this but i swear to god if this flops i'll kms. (jk. maybe. or not.)

masterlist sae's 4+1

i.

itoshi rin was a hater. 

he didn’t consider himself one, naturally. rin thought he was a pretty chill guy, but apparently, everyone who had some sort of interaction with the younger itoshi felt the same kind of vibe coming from him. at least, it was what his stupid teammates said after claiming rin was always hating on something — whether it was the line in the coffee shop being too long, every pass given to him by isagi or the librarian with “a stupid fish-face”.

on his defense, no one liked long lines, isagi had two left feet when it came to passing and the librarian was a fucking weirdo. even if he was a hater, he had a plausible reason for everything he hated. 

“itoshi.”

that included you, of course.

rin was pretty convinced it was impossible not to hate you. every time he entered your shared biology class, a mere look at you was enough for his irk to grow even more. everything about you was just obnoxious.

you were loud. and, although unpleasant, that wouldn’t be much of a problem if you just weren’t unable to shut the fuck up and stop rambling excitedly at every friend you met. and you had many. you were some kind of weird social butterfly with infinite energy for social interactions — in a way, you reminded him of bachira. 

but bachira was not always jumping at every chance to refute him with a know-it-all smirk. bachira wasn’t perpetually ready to throw witty remarks at his rudeness. and bachira definitely didn’t have a pretty gleam on his eyes every time he headbutted with rin.

in short, you were everything itoshi rin hated. and the worst part was that you knew. you knew how much your very existence annoyed him, and it seemed like you took as your life mission to make the next two years of his life a living hell. 

“itoshi.” your voice reached his ears again. well, maybe if he just ignored you, you would… “itoshi!”

“what the fuck do you want?” he snapped, diverting his attention from the match playing on his phone to look at you. “i told you not to call me that.”

another thing he hated — to be called by his last name. it reminded him way too much of sae, and that was something rin didn’t want to do. but it wasn’t like he was going to tell you that, so he’d rather let you think he just didn’t want you to address him at all. which wasn’t a lie, either. 

you gave him a puzzled look, tilting your head like an innocent puppy. a fake naivety, of course. “we’re not close enough for me to call you by your first name, though.”

“thank fuck.” 

your eyes rolled at that. “language, itoshi.” he glared at you again, and you fixed your posture, putting your hands on the back pockets of your jeans. the malicious smile you gave sent chills down his spine. 

“well, i just came to deliver you the news since you missed last period. there’s a project worth 75% of our grade to be delivered in two months, and guess what? we’re together!”

oh, hell no.

“you tell terrible jokes.”

“i’m serious, though. if you don’t believe me, just ask your friends,” you said, so absentmindedly that rin felt his blood pressure rising. he opened his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it. “and before you try, the teacher already said no one can work alone and that the pairs cannot be exchanged.”

his left eye twitched, and he was pretty sure all his muscles were tight and ready to combust. life just couldn’t give him a break, could it? it was like he was being punished — forced to work with you, of all people. what a fucking nightmare. 

how the hell was he supposed to endure two months of constant interactions with your annoying sassiness and the pretty curve of your lips when you smirked? it might just drive him crazy. 

“so, when can we start, partner?”

rin rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck on the back of his skull. 

“i hate you.”

ii.

the soccer field was probably the only place rin felt at peace. the smell of grass and sweat was as familiar as his home, much like the round shape of the ball on his feet and the path to the goal. despite his rowdy teammates and their dumb antics, there wasn’t much that was able to distract him and break this peacefulness.

“itoshi!”

there was still something, though. or someone, for that matter.

the shock of seeing you in his “happy place” was so big rin nearly tripped on the ball, successfully letting bachira steal it from him. the snickers from reo and isagi made his skin boil with anger, but his harsh glare was directed at you — the fucking source of all his problems. 

and no, he was not being dramatic. 

“what are you doing here.” 

it wasn’t really a question, more like a veiled threat; but you seemed oblivious to it, or simply didn’t care about his reaction. something in him even thought you liked getting on his nerves. he was sure of it when you smirked.

“the project, dummy. we need to start today if we want to get it done in time. it’s pretty long, hence why we have two months.”

“i can’t today,” was all he said. 

“why?”

“because,” rin spat with venom on his tongue, “i have an important game next week.”

you stared at him in silence. rin would have thought about how the sun shining on your back framed you with a perfect halo and gave you a nearly angelic look if he wasn’t so busy controlling the heat on his face from your scrutiny. he hated when you did that. he hated you. 

“we have to start today, itoshi. i’ll wait until you finish practicing so we can go to the library.”

he hated your stubbornness. he hated your voice, too — how it sounded like a siren’s melody, ready to trap him and bring him to the bottom of the ocean.

“fine. suit yourself.”

the young itoshi turned around and went back to the field, ignoring aryu’s pestering and shidou asking about who you were and if he could have your number. rin pondered if a yellow card was worth shutting up the insect, but eventually decided against it; he didn’t want ego to bench him, especially when they were so close to the tournament next week. 

the rest of the game went pretty smoothly, although rin and his teammates could tell he had half of his focus on the sidelines, where you sat prettily at the stands with your laptop. a perpetual scowl was on his face throughout the rest of the match. you were so damn distracting it was annoying. 

once the match was over, some of the boys went home, while others continued practicing, rin being one of them. he was expecting you to grow tired and give up, especially considering it was getting darker and colder, but you didn’t waver. your face was still present on the stands, haunting him even if he closed his eyes. you even had the audacity to smile when your gazes crossed.

he hated your smile. he did. 

hours passed until every one of his teammates had gone home, and rin was the only one left in the field. deciding it was finally enough (and not admitting he was starting to worry for you), he stopped his moves, finishing up with a few stretches so that his muscles weren’t too sore. he stored the footballs on the cart and put away the cones, something that was already routine at that point since he was usually the last one to leave.

finally, rin walked towards you. 

“i’m done,” he said as he approached you on the sideline of the field. his gym bag was right at your side, and he ignored the electricity that sparked his skin when it grazed yours. 

your eyes averted from your laptop to look at him. “oh, hi! thought you’d take a little longer,” you retorted. “anyways, i’m done too.”

he stopped his movement. “what?”

“yeah, i finished the first topic. only fourteen more to go.” the giggle that flew out of your mouth reverberated through his body. rin watched as you stood up and stretched, looking away when your shirt rode up and a sliver of your stomach could be seen. you then proceeded to put your laptop away, and his brows furrowed. 

“i don’t get it. i thought you said… you said it was too much stuff to do by yourself.” you nodded, not even looking at him. rin kind of wished you did. “and yet you did everything?”

“well, yes.”

his scowl only worsened. “what the fuck? why?”

you slung your bag through your shoulder, looking at him with those damn doe-eyes that always sparkled so much. it was annoying. why did they remind him of the stars? and why did rin wanted to watch the night sky on your face?

“you said you have an important game next week, so i figured it wouldn’t kill to do the first topic by myself,” you answered. “don’t get used to it, though! you’re gonna have to help on the next ones, partner.”

the young itoshi ignored the stupid nickname, his brain still trying to catch up to everything. something just wasn’t clicking…

“so why the hell did you wait for me to finish practice?”

you didn’t even falter.

“thought you could use the company.” you shrugged. and although your voice was nonchalant, you were smiling. and not your typical mischievous smirk — it was a sweet, sweet smile, dripped in honey and all things good in the world. 

rin’s heart leaped on his chest. he could feel his cheeks becoming flushed, but he blamed it on the cold. 

coming to think of it, it was really cold. and you sat there for hours… if he looked closely, he could see your frame shivering from the lack of proper clothing. 

a little tsk came out of his mouth, and rin impulsively took off his jacket, throwing it on your face — ignoring the “hey!” you sent his way.

“what’s that for, itoshi?!”

“so that you don’t freeze to death, dumbass.”

rin had to admit your gaping expression was kind of cute. not that he would commit to memory or something… that would be lukewarm, and he was anything but lukewarm. especially when it came to you. 

“don’t get any ideas, though,” he said before you could retort, turning around to follow the path to his dorm room, “i still hate you.”

iii.

things were calmer after the game passed. rin often found himself at the university library with you after his practice, leaving around nine or ten, and walking you to your dorm building simply because he didn’t want to be bothered in case something happened to you. not like he was worried for your safety or anything.

you still got on his nerves, but the project was going surprisingly well. rin learned you were very dedicated and meticulous, meaning you put in a lot of effort to focus and make everything as perfect as it could be. he wished he could say his focus was also as sharp as ever, but the scent of your coconut shampoo always lingered on the study booths and made his mind fuzzy. 

it was tuesday night and you were both on your laptops doing research and writing on your paper, falling into the same little routine you established the past weeks. the library was nearly empty as usual — though you always sat at the furthest cabin because rin didn’t like to see, hear or speak to people — and the only sound in the ambience was the pitter patter of the rain. 

everything seemed to be going fine, but things changed when the rain got heavier and became a strong thunderstorm that made the lights go out.

“fuck,” rin cursed under his breath, looking around to hear other people mumbling complaints and the librarian saying she would turn on the power generator, asking for calm and patience. he squeezed the bridge of his nose, annoyed, and turned to you. “hey, do you think—”

then he stopped. 

the only source of light was the screen of your laptops and the occasional lightning striking on the dark sky, but rin could see you on the other side of the table as clear as day. and he felt his heart squeeze impossibly hard with the sight. 

you were shaking like a leaf, hands squeezed tight and nails prickling your skin, and your eyes were widened and so, so scared. he had never seen you wear such an expression, always familiar with your confidant, cheery self, and he decided he didn’t like one bit. 

“hey,” he whispered, trying to grasp your attention. however, your eyes were focused outside. “hey, look at me.”

slowly, your orbs met his, and rin felt his breath hitch. there were tears on your lash line threatening to fall, and panic began to rise on his throat; but he forced himself to stay calm for your sake. 

“what’s wrong?”

your lips trembled, but nothing came out. he hated your voice, but found himself missing it. so he tried again.

“are you… afraid of the dark?”

his question was answered when the sound of another thunder reverberated again, making you visibly flinch. his gaze softened when a small hiccup left your lips. 

“oh. it’s the thunder.”

you nodded, still unable to talk. rin could see you were forcing yourself to keep your sobs contained, as if the mere thought of crying in front of him was as dangerous as standing at gunpoint. like his words — venomous, harsh, cold words — could hurt you just as much as a bullet. 

his stomach churned with that thought. he hated it. 

so, as carefully as he could so as not to startle you, rin stood up from his seat and walked around the table until he reached the chair at your side, sitting on it. he felt you body tense with the proximity, more so when he slightly turned to stare at you, and felt the need to say something.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, so impossibly soft you could hardly believe it was itoshi rin saying those words to you. 

it was even more unbelievable when he enveloped your body in a hug, bringing your head to his chest as if to shelter you from the thunder. 

rin really hoped you couldn't hear the unrestrained beating of his heart. everything about that moment made him nearly combust; from the ever present smell of your shampoo when he rested his nose in your hair, the evident relaxation of your frame when he hugged you or the small arms that held his waist as if he was the only lifeline in the ocean. 

you let your sobs and sniffles run free, burying yourself deeper in his embrace, and all rin could do was pat your hair and whisper soft reassurances on your ear. 

it’s okay. you are safe. i won’t let it hurt you. 

he didn’t know how long you both stayed in that position, but as he enjoyed the warmth of your body next to his, your sobs eventually died out along with the roaring sound of thunder. the rain became thinner and the lights finally came back, although neither of you made a move to separate. 

the silence lingered for a moment before you broke it, “thank you.”

the male only hummed, trying to hide his disappointment when you slowly backed away. though his hand didn’t leave you, going from your hair to rest on your hip in some type of reassurance squeeze. 

“i-i’m sorry, it’s just…”

“you don’t have to explain,” he interrupted. then, hesitantly added, “only if you want to.”

“it’s not something big or anything… this fear has just kind of been there. i think something happened to me when i was a kid and it was thundering, so every time it happens i just… freeze.” you shook your head. “it’s stupid.”

he frowned. “it’s not stupid if it makes you this terrified. it’s okay, we all have fears.”

you were yet to look him in the eye, seemingly embarrassed about your triggered phobia. “i cried on your shirt.”

“yeah.”

“it has tears stains.”

“yeah.”

you sighed. “i’m sorry.”

he squeezed your hip again. “don’t apologize.”

you finally raised your head to look at him, and rin could very much consider himself a lost man at that moment. your eyes were glistening from the remnant of tears, but that pretty gleam was still there, barging its way through any sadness and any fear to present itself with the shy smile you sent him.

even if it was still dark, he would be able to see it, because you shined. brightly, scorchingly and so, so mesmerizing, like some sort of classic painting worth millions of dollars. if rin had the choice, he wouldn’t want to look away. 

“i think it’s enough for today,” you said, “do you mind if we continue tomorrow?”

“i don’t mind,” rin answered, although he secretly wished to bask in your warmth for a little longer. “i’ll take you to your dorm building. i brought an umbrella.”

because he knew you were a klutz and would most likely forget. not that he paid attention to you or something. 

you smiled again, and rin had to use all of his might to let go of you and go back to his chair to pick up his stuff. silently, you both put away your things and left the study booth towards the exit, where the younger itoshi opened his umbrella and started to walk towards your destination. he felt his skin burning when you tangled your arm with his so that you were squeezed together under the shelter for the rain.

around ten minutes later, you finally arrived at your dorm building. and then, as the little minx you were, you stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before running inside along with your goodbyes. 

“thank you, rin!”

he stood there like a statue for what felt like an eternity, feeling his face impossibly hot. rin touched his cheek in mild disbelief, feeling butterflies erupting on his stomach without permission. 

it was only then he realized you called him by his actual name, and a smile inevitably took over his features. 

fuck.

itoshi rin hated you. but that day, he discovered that he hated seeing you cry even more.

iv.

he didn’t really know what the fuck he was doing there. rin was not the kind of guy who went to parties, much less fraternity ones; but somehow he ended up in one on a saturday night after a lot of convincing from his teammates. he claimed he only accepted so that isagi would shut up and stop pestering him, but the said boy insisted to say he only agreed after learning you would be there. 

which was absurd, of course. a completely crazy, delusional and absurd thought. why would he want your obnoxious self to go and ruin the party? rin hated you. 

right?

the music was loud and the people were even louder. there were dozens of bodies on the makeshift dance floor swaying to the beat, along with some people playing beer pong and small groups scattered around talking as best as they could. rin was part of the last type, although he was tuning out everything that bachira blabbed on his ear like a madman. his focus was solely on the entrance.

and then, you came in. 

it was like a stupid romance movie — the way everything seemed to be in slow motion. from the way you walked, to the slight movement of your hair, to the blink of your curved eyelashes. and god, how much he hated that. 

he hated the way your mere presence prickled his skin. how your voice soothed his lousy thoughts, how your smile lit up the room. he hated this urge inside of him to look for you every time he knew you'd be in the same vicinity, like you were some source of life that he couldn’t live without. 

“are you okay, rin-chan?” bachira’s voice took him out of his thoughts. he blinked a few times.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

now, rin wasn’t a drinker; the red cup on his hand was merely for show. but he gulped some beer at that moment, as if trying to wake up from a hazy dream or get out of a trance. it made sense — he did think you were a siren of some sort. 

there was no other reason for the spell you put on him. 

the party went on, and he spent a few hours avoiding you like the plague and pretending he wasn’t stealing glances at every chance he got. truth is, he was always paying attention when you were swaying your hips on the dance floor like there was no tomorrow, glaring at every guy who thought about getting close while holding back his own desire to do the same.

it was only when you left to the backyard that his teammates finally decided to say something.

“you should talk to them” reo advised, eyebrows dancing in a weird, wiggly way. rin grimaced.

“what? why?”

the boys rolled their eyes and groaned, tired of the younger itoshi’s behavior. 

“rin, man. you are clearly interested in them. and i’m pretty sure they’re interested in you, too,” isagi said slowly, as if rin was a child. “otherwise, they wouldn’t make the effort to pester you.”

rin could feel his face flushing. “i’m not—”

“don’t even try to deny it. it’s kind of obvious, really,” chigiri butted in, an exasperated countenance on his face. “just go, rin.”

he let out a tsk, chugging the rest of his drink and throwing the cup on the trash. “i’m going out just because i don’t want to keep listening to you idiots.” 

“yeah, right,” nagi snickered, and the others followed, watching rin turn his back and move towards the backyard, where he would inevitably find you. 

the chilly air hit his skin the moment he stepped out, and rin kind of thanked the relief it gave to his hot cheeks. quickly looking around, it was easy to spot your lonely frame leaning on the wall, staring at the stars as if they weren’t in your eyes. he walked to you like his feet had their own will, and once he got close enough, leaned the side of his body on the wall, facing you.

“you’re cold.”

not even a hello, how are you to start. great conversationalist, itoshi rin.

you turned your head to look at him, smiling when recognition took over your features. “hey, itoshi! didn’t think i’d meet you here!”

the giggle that went past your lips was the only reason he didn’t scowl when you didn’t call him rin.

“parties are not really my thing, but my friends convinced me to come.” you nodded, understanding. he blinked a couple of times, and said again, “you’re cold.”

you slightly flushed. “it’s just a bit chilly, but it’s not a big deal…”

but rin was already shrugging off his jacket, moving to be right in front of you as if to shield you from the wind. he handed the piece of clothing to you. “here.”

“oh… thank you,” you answered, bashful, taking the jacket and putting it on. 

last time he lent you one, he didn’t stay to see how you looked like. but at that moment, rin was sure there was nothing prettier than the sight of you in his clothes. he swallowed a nervous lump from his throat.

“so… why are you out here by yourself?”

“needed some air. i danced a lot and it was kind of stuffy in there.” you shrugged. then, fiddling with your fingers, you look straight into his eyes. “and maybe… maybe i was hoping someone would follow.”

someone. you had your eyes on someone. 

rin didn’t know what was worse: the stinging pain on his heart or the bitter taste left on his tongue. what he did know was that both felt like poison, one that would spread through his veins and consume him whole. and that he shouldn’t feel like this. because he hated you, after all. 

he must have made a terrible grimace, because you threw your hands in the air in exasperation. 

“for fucks sake.”

and then your lips were on his. 

it was just a fleeting moment — something way too quick and definitely not enough to sate the dormant hunger inside of him. in the blink of an eye, you were already back in your place, staring at him with doe-eyes and a hundred doubts written in them. 

rin freezed for a whole full minute with his mouth agape, until finally lunging forward to kiss you again. his right arm wrapped possessively around your waist to glue your bodies together, while his left hand found a place in your jaw, cradling your face as if you were some precious jewel. his lips were hungry on yours, and you gasped with the intensity, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. 

kissing you was exhilarating, like scoring the perfect goal or winning a championship. adrenaline ran high on his veins and his head was a little airy. and rin swore he never felt so alive. 

when you finally parted, you were both panting, chest heaving with every breath. rin rested his forehead against yours, directing both of his hands to your middle as if to look for grounding. 

“you still hate me, itoshi?” you asked in a whisper, mouth inches away from his but still not close enough. that dangerous gleam was still settled in your eyes, and he could swear you were the perfect definition of sinful every time you batted your eyelashes at him.

“call me rin.”

“okay,” you giggled lightly. “you still hate me, rin?”

he could feel his blood pulsing on his ears. “yeah,” he answered, way too breathless for an athlete of his caliber. 

and then, holding your waist tighter, “kiss me again.”

v.

“we should get coffee.”

rin’s words cut the silence as you were exiting the library yet again. you looked up to see his face staring straight ahead, expression unreadable as always, but the light redness on the tip of his ears told you all you needed to know. 

you decided to be a tease, as always. “hm… i don’t know, should we? you sure you want to spend even more time with someone you hate?”

he scowled like usual, but this time, there was a small pout on his lips. you thought he looked the cutest when he was like that, all shy and trying to maintain his stoic act. 

he grumbled something under his breath. 

“what was that?”

“i said,” he sneered, “i don’t hate you, stupid.”

you arched your brow. “you don’t?”

“do you think i would have kissed you if i did?” the smirk you give him is both charming and infuriating. rin would have said he hated it, but he was done pretending. 

“i don’t know, itoshi. you are kind of emotionally constipated.”

“shut up,” rin quipped. then, he snaked your waist with his right arm as you walked side by side, pulling you closer. “and didn’t i tell you to call me rin?”

there was just mischief in your eyes when you answered, “yeah, but i like to get on your nerves.”

the male scoffed, still in disbelief with your antics. 

“you’re a damn brat. i think you just want me to teach you my name tonight.”

rin could practically feel the heat on your face, and he smirked when he saw how red you were. god, you were so cute. 

“at least take me to dinner first before we hate-fuck,” you still managed to joke, despite the slight shakiness in your voice. he rolled his eyes, and pulled you to a stop by the arm. 

you both stood in the middle of campus, feeling the gentle caress of the breeze and listening to the birds chirping. it was a peaceful day, with the sun high up in the baby blue sky. rin thought there was no better time than at that moment. 

his hand traced your arm until it reached your own, and he squeezed your fingers in reassurance. 

“i don’t hate you,” he said again. “i just hate the way i don’t hate you. not even close. not even a little bit. not even at all.”

he watched your eyes light up and smile brighter than the sun, and he almost laughed at the disbelief in your voice. 

“did you just quote ‘ten things i hate about you’?”

it was his time to flush. a small shrug was all rin answered with — he didn’t want you to know he specifically chose this sentence because that was your favorite movie. not like it mattered when you were gleaming at him and making his heart leap on his chest. 

“well, then,” you squeezed his hand back, “let’s get coffee, rin.”

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[aesteries]

Why are writers so mad and closing ranks when people dont want Jace to be a rapist, abuser, or cheater who uses women? When fics perpetuate rape culture?

ah, yes… a jace anon. i will give you the satisfaction of replying to your message. it's late, i'm sleepy and i don't know if i'm making much sense with what i'm going to tell you but you know what? let's go.

tldr; if george r. r. martin, the creator of the character, did not describe jacaerys velaryon as a r, abuser or cheater (actually, mushroom and sara snow say hello if you are to believe his words), then canonically, he is not. you are bothered by people using dark themes when they are exploring their creativity (they are allowed to do so and you're not being forced to enjoy), and i have yet to see any popular authors or popular works or trends or anything attempting to normalise or perpetuate whatever said dark themes. authors are bothered because anons are bothered that they are writing about him as a frat boy or a non-virgin and not the very image of chivalry.

“people don’t want jace to be” does your perception of him change because of someone else’s portrayal? why would someone else’s interpretation of a character bother you so much if that is not what you believe of him?

first of all, i understand your point of view, anon, i do. 

however, this is a world of fanfiction, where everyone is free to form, you know, headcanons and interpretations of fictional characters depending on their creativity and experiences. it is up to you to consume the content, to decide if it’s appropriate for you or if it lines up with your morals, your preferences, your own ideas of a character… such things. you are entirely responsible for what you are consuming and you have complete control, especially if an author is using very obvious tags and trigger alerts on what their work contains. if you don’t want to read dark themes, no one is forcing you and no one is forcing these labels on characters through fan-made content. 

but fanfiction means creativity, and people love exploring different themes with their favourite characters, some darker than others. at the end of the day, what other people write as a hobby has nothing to do with you, what you want or what you think. if you don’t like said depictions, turn around, close the tab, and maybe even block the writer if you want. it was not meant for you and that is fine. every jacaerys in fanfiction is fake, not real, not him, because other than the fact his name is mentioned less than 50 times in 736 pages, we have maybe one proper paragraph to describe who he was as a person… he’s dead and gone.  what if he did not grow to be a loving husband, or a great king, or anything good?

that said, i understand that some people do not like when their favourite fictional character is linked to such dark themes, but you can’t go around in an attempt to bend everyone to your liking, you don’t own the character, and people don’t have to write what YOU want. some write and consume dark themes as a form of control, especially if they were or are victims, some have twisted fantasies. you will find very few authors writing such themes out of pleasure and evilness, and they are always shunned by fandoms. this is in no way, shape, or form trying to normalize said themes. 

and not to be that person, maybe you’re not the same anon that goes around my mutuals’ inboxes, but the works i have seen that anonymous messages complain about r, abuse or cheating are mild af and nowhere near close to perpetuating anything quite honestly. no one is parading around screaming “Make this character a terrible person for fun or die!” i’m surprised you’re even involved in fire&blood, hotd or asoiaf content with the amount of triggers it has, if fanfiction has you going around like this...

also, from what i have seen, writers are not mad because people don’t want that, they are bothered because they are being bombarded by anonymous messages that refuse to understand that they can easily ignore content they don’t like. instead, they sit through message after message about how jacaerys is supposed to be a soft loverboy who will only love one woman in his life and is a virgin saving himself for marriage and is perfect, and he loves her so much.

goodnight, anon.

[sixpennydame]

"so if eruri is triggering for you, I’d suggest you start filtering certain tags so you can curate the kind of experience you want here."

I guess you think I don't really filter them out, but you're wrong. Believe me, no matter how much I ban everything related to this ship, it comes up in every way. For example eruri shipper Levixreader writers. Even in the Hcs/fanfic's they write, they are in every way squeezing their own ship under the guise of "this is not ship discourse" and they write the dynamics of that ship under the name of 'levixreader' in order to show that their ship is canon. And you naively Rb'd them and think that Levi's character is really like that. He's a perpetually angry man, he's a cruel selfish man who hates the weak and who hates the weak and who immediately abandons you because he's weak, who puts his feelings for erbin ahead of his duties 🥺 who puts humanity through hell for erbin. but someone who is a dog and a softy for him and someone who threw S/o out of the window for him. Yes he loves S/o but he would even sacrifice S/o for the landlord whose dog he is 😔 But again keep saying "great Levi fic post 😭".

And that's what I'm talking about when I say don't let them manipulate you, because even one of your recent articles is similar to their writing style. I wouldn't be surprised if you soon write Levi as an ass upturned, bed whining, super fanon twink whiny lowlife sub. One of your Rb's in particular is a super delulu shipper levixreader writer, and they so much portray Levi as Erwin's lapdog, order dog, loyal dog, someone who never questions whatever action he takes, never wavers in his loyalty, that Cosmic finally had to write them a misleading reply that Levi is not like that Lmaoo. And they are egotistical and self-righteous enough to say "I know better than you" when they see criticism that contradicts their fanon thinking. Man its 2024 and fucking ackerbond has been debunked years ago and even Isayama's dusty old interviews deny it. Yeah, no matter how much I filter eruri, I see exactly that in both Levi tags and Levixreader tags 🙃 and now whenever I want to read fic or browse Levi posts, I have to look at them with hesitation and fear. I don't understand if I should filter Levi directly?

I'm so tired that I would love for Isayama to drop a bombshell that will disprove both the selfshippers and shippers and all their rhetoric, all their Hc's, and leave us all in a big disappointment. For example to give him a really random female partner. Or I would like him to write a characterization where he really doesn't care about everyone and throws them into the fire, where he thinks about himself and his life instead of thinking about them, where he focuses on himself, where he is truly selfish. Then we wouldn't have to see discourses, dramas and fights like "Levi cared about X the most" "He did this and that for X" "Levi doesn't have a canon ship, but if he did it would be X"

*sighs heavily*

I don’t know what to tell you, Anon. If my reblogging and my moots bring you so much distress, you are free to block me.

I refuse to get involved with ship discourse - that’s not what I’m here for.

But I will say this: the writing I do is xreader, but I love to read and view Levi in many forms - canon and AU, eruri, LeviHan, and everything in between. I’ll be sure to make that clear on my ‘About Me’ page.

I love my moots’ writing and art, and will continue to reblog anything that I find beautiful or pleasing to me. Because that, dear Anon, is why I am here.

[eds-gryff]

Dates Out of Duty

Edmund Pevensie x Gender-Neutral Reader

Okay, despite the pictures, Y/N is GENDER-NEUTRAL IN THIS FIC!! It is the first time I’ve written a gender neutral reader, and also I have been having horrific writer’s block for about two months, so this fic may not be the BEST. I tried very hard, though 😭😭 I’m sorry.

Also, I do have an Arranged-Marriage-with-Edmund-Pevensie fanfiction on Wattpad- it’s called ‘Alliance’ and it is a series of four books, so please do check that out!!

-

Requested by @potatosdragon

‘Hi, could you please write an Edmund pevensie imagine x fem reader where it's about the types of dates he would take you on after an arranged marriage. Thank you sosososossososossosooskks much’

It’s not exactly a list of dates like most fics about this scenario are, I wanted to tell a story of the reader and Edmund’s development as well- plus, the date ideas come from both, not just from Ed. Hopefully it’ll be tolerable! 🥲

-

Y/N= Your Name

Y/C/N= Your Country’s Name

Y/P/W= Your Preferred Weapon

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

Riding Dates

It’s unfamiliar territory, romantic feelings for each other, but Edmund and Y/N both desperately need some semblance of comfort.

The first date, thus, is familiar territory.

He had learnt that they shared a love for horses very soon after the wedding- when he’d witnessed the delight in his then-affianced’s face upon learning that Y/N’s horse was going to come along as they returned to Narnia.

(Their wedding had taken place in Y/N’s kingdom, as per the agreement of the marriage alliance. Neither of them had smiled once during it. It had been their duty, and that was all. Neither had hoped or thought or even imagined that anything more would come out of doing their duty.)

The date is not the roaring success both hoped for- they had hoped, actually, that once they confessed their feelings for each other, things would get as easy as possible- but it’s not a devastating failure, either.

They have fun, playfully bantering with each other as they rode deeper into the woods- banter that Edmund’s horse, Philip, joined as well- and they attempt to, rather clumsily, kiss while on horseback as well. It makes them laugh, and then soon blush, once it turns out that they were quite good at kissing in even inopportune situations.

The problem comes when it is discovered that the path Edmund had chosen led them much further away than expected and when it is found that Y/N had forgotten to bring along the picnic basket.

Hunger and the fear of getting lost plays havoc on romance, and by the time they manage to return to Cair Paravel, the banter has turned to bickering, despite Philip’s most valiant efforts.

And by the time they return to their shared chambers after supper, anything more than a chaste good-night peck is unthinkable.

Bakery Dates

Y/N and Edmund are not very deterred by the less-than-ideal results of their date in the woods, especially since they wake up the next few mornings snuggled into each other.

It’s hard to stay annoyed when you wake up so comfortable and so warm and in each other’s arms- and, one of these mornings, the royals dawdle in bed for a good two hours before forcing themselves to get up.

They miss breakfast- something that’s usual for Y/N, perpetually a late sleeper, but not for Edmund, because although he loves to sleep in, he also enjoys having breakfast with his family- and so Y/N suggests going into town and to one of the bakeries, for the Just King is known to have quite the sweet tooth.

Edmund says yes, quite happily, and it’s hand-in-hand that the pair walk into the town closest to the castle.

They sample cakes and pastries and some things Y/N can’t pronounce but Edmund can with a funny accent- and the employees in the bakery are all aflutter at serving two Monarchs, and that, too, while they’re on a date!

They settle them in a large corner of the bakery, practically forcing every other customer into the opposite corner- despite repeated requests from the royal couple to treat them as regular folk- and they’re given so much sweet confections that Y/N’s tongue, unused to having such large amounts of desserts, goes numb in the middle of a sweet apple crumble. Edmund is having the time of his life, though, biting into a chocolate gateau and a rose parfait and blueberry cakes, and Y/N gazes at him quite contentedly the entire time- and then the gaze turns mutual and humorous and a bit alarmed, when the head baker packs them enough sweeties and desserts and chocolates to last a few decades.

They both are supposed have meetings that day- one with an envoy from Archenland and the other with a Tarkheena from Calormen- but the meetings are later in the day, and they know that the High King and the Queens of Narnia will happily keep the guests busy on the off-chance they are late.

His siblings are more invested in their relationship than they both are, the Just King feels.

As usual, he’s right, and it’s seen just how right he is at the next Ball.

Reading Dates

But before the Ball, comes winter, and with winter, comes the need to stay warm and cosy.

Especially for Edmund, since he does not deal well with the cold at all.

Y/N isn’t used to the cold, since Y/C/N is a warm country, and so they both have more reason than most to stay indoors during the most biting days of winter.

But they haven’t gone on a date in weeks, and Y/N is fearing that they could go back to the aloofness they had regarded each other with during the beginning of their marriage.

Neither of them wants that- Y/N and Edmund care for each other very deeply, and that’s something that even they, expert at denying feelings, cannot deny.

Hence, Y/N hauls candles and blankets and some of the bakery’s sweets in the middle of winter, in addition to asking the Kitchens to bring up some food and warm drinks.

Lastly, Y/N finds Edmund in his study, wrapped in a thick shawl his mother-in-law gave him, and they walk hand-in-hand to the destination.

In the Library, seated on a cosy couch, half-suffocated by thick blankets, Edmund and Y/N hardly talk. They read quietly in the candlelight, occasionally looking up to grin at each other or hold hands again, and even the meal is had in utterly comfortable silence, broken only at the end of it by Edmund’s declaration that they must have a sleepover in the Library.

Of course, both being the bibliophiles they are, they doubt much sleep will happen- it’s far more likely they’ll read and read and read until they fall asleep reading.

But neither will mind that- and so, Y/N climbs into Edmund’s lap, fishes a book from the pile next to them, and agrees.

Ballroom (And a Bit of Stargazing) Dates

Edmund dances well, and since he’s married, he knows that the one to dance with is his consort. He was the one to suggest they consider the Ball a date for he had no wish to spend the event with anyone apart from Y/N.

Y/N felt the same way, and his suggestion was met with an approving kiss.

Still, his siblings have some insane idea in their heads that the relationship between the two Monarchs needs meddling to grow- and their idea of meddling is to make sure no one else meddles.

And so the rest of the guests at the vibrant New Year’s Ball give the two Monarchs a wide berth throughout the event.

It suits Y/N just fine, because Edmund is easily the only one around who offers comfort as well as conversation, not to mention how fine a dancer he is, to make up for Y/N’s abysmal dancing skills. And even Edmund can’t mind, truly, not when he has his dear consort clasped in his arms, and he sees just how bright and soft Y/N’s smile, aimed at him throughout the night, is.

They spend the Ball dancing and laughing, and occasionally tripping, and they are not away from each other’s embrace for longer than a few minutes.

And then they steal away to the roof of Cair Paravel, and spend the rest of night staring up at the sky, with Edmund pointing out the different constellations in the sky, and Y/N speaking of the stories and fables of Y/C/N that were linked to the stars and the Heavens.

Y/N notices that Edmund’s freckles are like constellations. Edmund notices that Y/N’s eyes shine like the Moon. They gaze at each other more than they look at the celestial bodies.

And when the fireworks bloom into artificial stars in the sky, a few metres above them- the couple has their lips on each other’s, feeling something deep bloom in their hearts as well.

.

Things go sour not long after the Christmas Ball. It’s coming up on five years of marriage- Peter and Susan and Lucy and Y/N’s parents and both their countries were extremely frustrated by how long it’s taking for Y/N and Edmund to confess their love for each other.

But the couple is taking it slow. Neither are the type to fall in love quickly- rather, until each other, they hadn’t thought they would fall in love at all.

It is all wholly new and unexpected- for them- and they hadn’t quite believed what was happening when they’d quietly confessed to each other that they had feelings for the other. It was for that reason that there had been an unspoken agreement, after the confession, to do things slowly.

But the slowness was frustrating more than just the people around them- it was frustrating them, too!

Edmund regularly had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘my love’ in almost every single situation and at every moment of the day, but especially he’d come across Y/N be in the training field, eyes shining and sweaty skin glowing, perfecting the use of (Y/P/W).

The ‘I love you’ had been on the top of Y/N’s tongue every time the two Monarchs fell asleep while reading in the Royal Library, and then Y/N would be the one to wake up first, watching Edmund in peaceful slumber.

There are bets going on, in both Cair Paravel and in Y/N’s castle in (Y/C/N).

Peter said that Y/N would say it first, being the more impulsive of the pair.

Susan said that they’d both say it together, because underneath all their emotional unintelligence, there was some understanding and wisdom.

Lucy said it would be Edmund, because once he got over whatever fear was keeping from telling the three not-so-little words, he would surely want to be transparent with his consort, despite the possibility of his declaration being unrequited.

Y/N’s parents, for their part, thought that it would be another five years before the word ‘love’ would come into the conversation, and they said they’d announce their bet in three.

The sourness is not, however, Edmund and Y/N’s fault.

They’re doing quite well, actually, they feel, and they blush rather brightly every time the other’s name is brought up.

Then the Giants attacked.

Y/N spoke heatedly, looking with flashing eyes to the rest of the war council, “I’m going to fight!”

Edmund nodded, “Of course you are, darling, but you must stay here. It’s not safe to travel back to your country-”

No, Y/N wasn’t running back home! Of course not. That was what Peter had assumed for an awkward moment, and Y/N had almost thrown a scroll at his face.

“I need to get my army here, and I need to leave now. Narnia needs support, and it is part of our alliance treaty that our countries come to each other’s aid in the event of war.”

Peter stepped in here, “That’s right. Remember, Narnia has lent its troops to Y/C/N whenever minor scuffles at the border occur-”

“Of course I remember.” His younger brother said calmly, though not feeling calm at all.

His consort wanted to go out of Cair Paravel- which wasn’t safe in the least, as the Giants were camped practically just outside their walls. He couldn’t- he couldn’t risk losing someone he- someone he loved so much.

“We both signed the treaty, need I remind you. But then we can send a Raven to Y/N’s parents, they can-”

“I am the Monarch.” Y/N spoke, cutting across the Just King. There was no anger in Y/N’s voice, but it was simply firmness. “It is because of me that my country will be brought into this War, because I-”

Fell in love with you.

But the treaty had been signed long before that. And Edmund didn’t know that fact!

“Because I married you.”

Edmund swallowed. Y/N was right. There was no one else who could catch his tongue like that, or get him to change his mind.

“Very well.” He said stiffly, and looked to where Lucy was standing, already dressed in armour and looking fiercely warrior-like. “Lu, I’ll be going with Y/N, so I’ll ask Orieus if he may patrol with you instead-”

“No.” Y/N said, once against interrupting him. Somehow, Y/N’s hand was now on Edmund’s arm, and there sprung a need in both to clasp each other’s hand tight.

So, they did.

“Narnia needs you, dearest. I’ll be alright, and I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund gazed into Y/N’s eyes for a long moment, and Y/N gazed back.

The war council moved onto other matters soon, but Edmund and Y/N kept holding hands for the entirety of it- in fact, until they reached the Stables where Y/N’s horse was kept.

“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Edmund queried quietly, as his consort tied some necessities and supplies to end of the horse’s saddle. He’d been the one to have the sense to tell one of the servants to pack for a journey- Y/N was reckless enough to make the journey with nothing useful. “You could leave in the morning-”

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Sooner rather than later- you told me once they said that where you come from.” Y/N’s voice was just as quiet.

What if he was right? Well, of course he was right, he always was- but what if the Giants did attack Y/N on the way?

Death was inevitable, it was known- but to die while on the way to help in a War? What sort of Monarch did that?

But the alternative was not helping Narnia. The alternative was letting Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan suffer the War on their own.

Y/N turned to Edmund, “Spare Oom, was it?”

He smiled a little, and they neared each other, their arms sliding around each other so they stayed in an embrace for as long as they could.

“Or War Drobe. I’ve heard it both ways.”

He bent his head, and their lips met in a slow, needy, passionate kiss.

“I’ll be safe.” Y/N whispered into the kiss, knowing full well what Edmund would murmur once the embrace broke. “As safe as I can.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were going to part. Not for long, if they had any luck- but it was war. How often was good fortune found in the middle of battle? “I’ll wait for you.”

“And you best fight in midst of the waiting.” Y/N said- deciding to not ask him to be safe, because he would be. He would. He was a warrior and he was wise- he’d stay alive. “And try to think of better date ideas.”

Edmund smiled in spite of himself, “I’m the one with the good ideas. Yours are more hit or miss.”

Y/N chuckled softly, “Maybe a battle will give me inspiration, then. I’ll think of you anyway- may as well have that thinking be productive.”

“We’ll go on that date the moment the War’s over.” His smile softened, and they kissed once more- one last time.

The kiss lasted another few moments, before they both pulled away- and Y/N climbed onto the horse.

“G-goodbye.” Y/N almost said ‘my love’. “I’ll see you soon.”

Edmund raised his hand in farewell, not trusting himself to speak.

And then, as the horse pulled out of the paddock and just as his consort was almost out of sight- he spoke.

Well, shouted.

“Y/N!” He said, and the horse and her rider both turned.

They weren’t too close to each other, but they were close enough to hear each other.

Steeling himself, and not entirely sure his sanity was intact, he said loudly, “I love you.”

He saw Y/N’s eyes widen, and- then he fancied he saw a smile. His heart was pounding so hard, he was aware of very little except for his heartbeat and his consort’s outline against the sunset.

No- he wasn’t imagining it. He was seeing a smile. Y/N was smiling at him.

But then Y/N tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped away, and Edmund was left alone in the paddock of the Stables.

But at least he had received a smile in exchange for his impulsive declaration of love. It was far better than the rejection he had thought he was sure to get.

Impromptu Dates

Y/N and Edmund did not see each other until the siege of the giants ended two months later. They had news of each other, of course- letters tied to Ravens’ legs and messages delivered by dryads kept them, as well as every regiment fighting the Giants in the north of Narnia informed of what was happening.

And then, in the spring, the Giants surrendered, and High King Peter declared the War won, and he sent Ravens to all corners of Narnia and to the neighbouring lands to inform them of the news.

Y/N had been with Peter during the battles, while Edmund was stationed away, in a part of the land where strategy would be important to win than force. Lucy was with him, but she regularly rode far away to fight other threats that took advantage of the War to attack Narnia as well- while Susan stayed at Cair Paravel, holding down the fort in case the Giants somehow breeched their defences.

But now that the War was over, the Pevensies were to be together again, soon. Very soon, the four hoped.

Sooner than that, though, it Edmund and Y/N that were fated to reunite.

The path that Y/N was to take on the return from Y/C/N to Narnia was, coincidentally, the path that led from the Western Woods to Cair Paravel.

Edmund hadn’t spent the War there, no, but he had gone to check on his domain after it, just in case any of the White Witch’s supporters had come out of the woodwork and had tried to capture the forests once more.

(There hadn’t been anyone in the Western Woods except for one very adorable family of rabbits, and some deer that complimented his choice of swords over a bow and arrow.)

There was a brook nearby, and Y/N had taken off the armour and had washed up in that- not bathing, of course- and had managed to get some drinking water, too, since the water was cool enough. After such strenuous fighting and the wounds afflicted because of it, cold water was a must.

Y/N had decided to keep wearing the soaked tunic, as the wet fabric gave extreme relief to the hot and bruised skin.

As the horse began away from the brook, walking along a path bordered with flowers, Y/N heard something else.

Someone else.

Someone that travelled frequently with the man who had said ‘I love you’ just before their parting- and the man whom Y/N wanted to tell the same to.

It came from a bit far ahead- nearer to the mouth of the brook, where it was more a stream.

Y/N’s eyesight wasn’t the best, but the hearing was- and Philip, Edmund’s horse, had a very loud voice.

“Your Majesty.” The sienna-hued horse’s voice spoke. “Why not a bathe?”

“It’s only half a day to Cair.” Came another voice, and Y/N’s heart soared so high an attack of dizziness came. “I’ll bathe there- and it won’t do to dirty such a clean, pure stream.”

“Edmund!” Y/N shouted, almost falling off the horse.

Climbing properly off her, Y/N ran towards the sounds of the two voices.

”Edmund- Edmund-”

Edmund had his top-armour off, clad in a wet long-sleeved under-shirt, much like Y/N’s, and he had been washing his face and attempting to fill some water into his flash, even though he’d cracked it and water poured out more than it poured in.

At the sound of his consort’s voice, he dropped the flask again, and turned quickly- in alarm and quite a bit of hope.

Y/N flew at him, and they collided together, falling down onto the grass. Their arms stayed around each other, and Edmund kept calling Y/N’s name and Y/N kept calling Edmund’s, though they were clasped tight together, and neither cared that they’d landed half in the water, too.

“You’re here!” Y/N spoke into Edmund’s shoulder, clutching him tight. “What are- how- this isn’t your route-”

“Had to check on the Woods.” Edmund answered, kissing his consort’s cheek.

He was on top, and there was a grin on Y/N's face at the position, and he felt himself blush.

“You’ve been to guide your armies back to Y/C/N, yes? I thought you’d stay home for a few weeks- to rest.”

“I wanted to.” Y/N admitted- as absolutely lovely and beloved as Narnia was, there was no place like home. “But I- I had something to do in Narnia.”

Here, Philip interjected, “Good to see you again, Your Majesty!”

Y/N waved happily at the sarcastic horse, before looking back at Edmund, who was looking curious as he asked, “Official work?”

“Well.” Y/N said, and rolled them around so that their positions revered and Edmund was under. “I had to make a declaration.”

Y/N’s heart was shaking. And there were palpitations. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety. And nerves. And nausea, if one squinted.

But so much love. So much of it. It overwhelmed all else.

“What?”

His question was ignored, and Y/N went on, “And before that, I had to suggest a date idea.”

And then they kissed, beginning too soft and careful- for neither was aware of the other’s injuries- and then ending with gasps and even tighter grips on each other.

Oh, how they wanted to peel off the remaining armour and the wet tunics and make love then and there, having missed each other so painfully much- but Philip was there. They didn’t want to scar him for life- more than they already had. The poor horse had been an unwitting witness to more than one ardent snogging sessions between the two Monarchs- and, in some of those sessions, they had not been very clothed.

It haunted Philip’s nightmares, but it also gave him a lot of material to tease his rider about.

“Was that the idea?” Edmund asked hoarsely, his hand curling into his consort’s hair. He wanted to say those three words again- so, so badly. “A kissing date?”

Y/N’s swollen lips curved into a smile, “Do you mind it?”

“Not at all.” He said, thinking that all the date ideas he had had might have already been beaten- before asking, “But what’s the declaration? If it’s got paperwork, I’ll have to handle it, you know.”

He was very tired. Fighting battles was difficult. Whatever it was, he wanted to get the work done as soon as possible.

“It is a declaration to the Just King. To my darling husband.” Y/N whispered.

Oh, how could a heart possibly feel like it was creeping so high into a throat!? The anxiety was getting unbearable. It was only Edmund’s proximity and his beautiful, dark eyes gazing into Y/N’s that kept an anxiety attack at bay.

“I declare that I am absolutely and besottedly in love with you.”

“Oh.” Well, he certainly didn’t want that over with as soon as possible.

Never, in fact. He wanted it to last forever.

He smiled again, his heart aglow and both their eyes shining, and they pressed their foreheads against each other’s.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

It was the best date ever.

Vow Renewal Dates

A vow renewal ceremony is not a date, Susan tells her brother and sister-in-law repeatedly- but as far as they’re concerned, that’s exactly what it is.

It takes in a lovely meadow of flowers, and they are together, looking radiant and lovely as they gaze at each other- and they hold hands through it all. They tell each other how much they loved each other, and they promise once again to forever be by each other’s side and be joined in the bond of marriage forevermore.

Well, dates usually didn’t have parents and siblings around, but one couldn’t have everything.

They are in love, though. A love they hope would last forever, and if there’s something after that, then even then.

And it may not be everything- but it certainly does feel like it.

-

Thank you for reading!

-

[ronanwazlib]

even though i’m no longer as active here, nor do i currently write fic, i’ve wrestled with the repercussions of continuing to engage in the marauders/hp fandoms (such as just leaving this blog up and archiving my older fanworks here or on ao3 with disclaimers) after everything jkr has said and done (and continues to do) despite the extreme importance and comfort they once provided me. obviously, this decision has created a divide both in fan spaces and between average tumblr users over whether one should completely give up everything harry potter altogether or if you can denounce j*anne while still maintaining your presence in the fandom (either as a creator/artist/writer or just an observer) because it does not directly benefit the author monetarily as licensed merchandise and games, box office and book sales, or theme park attractions do.

the author has stated she sees any sort of support for her series as support for her beliefs or approval by fans that she’s justified in her behavior. i personally disagree with this, as i know better than she does how i feel about her politics and her bigotry, despite the fact that there is still an emotional attachment to fanon versions of her characters for me, and i already know she’d see all the ways in which i once enjoyed them as not supportive but mockery or bastardization or something. still, it must be taken into account. i don’t want to speak for minority groups i am not myself a part of on whether each individual is “valid” in reclaiming hp or not as that isn’t my place. as it is, i personally struggle enough with whether it’s okay to retain some sentimentality for the fandom and series at all as a queer person and whether i’m “trans enough” for it to be seen as justified. that is something we all must decide for ourselves and help each other to conclude. so although i’m not here to try and convince you one way or the other, i will recognize there IS an undeniable, tangible (if not financial) impact of creating fanworks and engaging in fandom practices. she has perpetuated so, so much harm, and her series itself was and has always been, rife with problematic themes, imagery, and worldbuilding. it is not enough to simply say you “reclaim” hp and put “jk sucks” in your bio; if you’re going to remain in the fandom you have to actively speak out against the systems she supports and upholds today and be critical of the flaws within the series itself. if you cannot completely let hp go right now, i encourage you to renounce jkr’s beliefs always, entirely stop supporting her through purchases or words, and contribute to lgbt/jewish/bipoc rights through donations to verified charities + legal support and/or their ability to survive and thrive through mutual aid funds so long as you continue to keep the hp series culturally relevant. it’s the least we can do, really.

of course i recognize this viewpoint will likely be upsetting to some who may want to block me. i completely respect that. i also welcome civil discussion in the replies, however i refuse to respond to discourse or trolling as that is a response to conflict i am actively trying to unlearn.

as always, terfs/bigots/homophobes/racists/antisemites are NOT welcome here

[rustbeltjessie]

About Me / Ways You Can Support Me

I’ve gotten several new followers recently, so I thought I’d tell you a bit about me and what you can expect to find here:

I’m a 40-something bi/MGA nonbinary trans person. I’m disabled and neurodivergent. I live where the Great Lakes region meets the Rust Belt meets the Upper Midwest, with my partner and our two kiddos. I am a writer, zine-maker, spoken word performer, visual artist, and small press owner/editor. I occasionally dabble in making short films or playing music. I collect souvenir pennies and stick and poke tattoos. I'm in love with the undying spirit of punk rock (even though punk is far from the only genre of music I listen to). I'm perpetually melancholy, nostalgic, and restless.

I post my own writing and art, and photographs from my day-to-day life. (If you’d like to see more of that type of stuff, check out the tags: #my writing, #my art, #my photos #jessie lynn mcmains, and #rust belt jessie.)

I also post about stuff I’m into (music, literature, film, art, etc.), post things about writing and art, and post political stuff (mainly US-focused).

Speaking of political stuff, I’m basically an anarcho-socialist, but I believe in voting as a form of harm reduction. I’m pro-choice, pro-trans, pro-Black Lives Matter. (I say all this because if you are an anti-trans activist, a white supremacist or fascist, queerphobic, anti-abortion, etc., we won’t get along and you could save us both the trouble by blocking me right now.) And speaking of harm reduction — I am for the decriminalization of both drug use and sex work.

I try to tag for common triggers but I’m not very consistent, so if there is something specific you need me to tag for, please let me know and I’ll try my best.

I also have a couple side blogs: @witchofbonesandkeys - a witchy blog which I update very infrequently, and then a personal one which I won’t link to (but which you can probably find on your own because I sometimes reblog posts I made there to this blog) where I post a lot.

If you dig what I do, you can tip me right here on Tumblr, or via PayPal (coeur.de.fantome@gmail.com), or Venmo (@JessieLynnMcMains).

I also have a Ko-fi, where you can buy my zines and books, commission me for a mini-collage, or hire me to edit your writing.

Anything else you want to know? Ask! (Anon is on, but if you’re creepy or mean I won’t respond.)

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

hi! can i please have a matchup for attack on titan & bungou stray dogs? my name is nini, im bisexual, & i use she/her pronouns! my zodiac sign is cancer & mbti is esfj!

for my personality, id say im pretty bubbly and excitable. i try to look on the bright side and try to cheer up people when they’re sad. im very affectionate with the people im close to, and i kinda cling onto my friends arms and hug them a lot. i love anything soft or cute, especially animals!! im kinda scared of bugs though, but i still always try to take them outside, even if i have to go kicking and screaming. i get distracted pretty easily, and have pull my friends off the track they were on so we could all pet dogs (they were so cute!!). i also really like going for walks, shopping, yoga, baking, and reading. i really like to look after people, but sometimes that makes it so i kinda disregard my own needs. im a bit of people pleaser, and i tend to look for the best in others! though i can’t really tolerate it if somebody is overly cruel or rude to the people i care about.

for my appearance, im 5’1 & have fairly long light brown hair. my eyes are hazel, im fairly pale with a few freckles sitting across my face, & my cheeks are perpetually rosy andjfjjek. my style is usually pretty soft & girly, & i really like dressing up even if i’m not going anywhere. i also really like to do makeup, both on myself and others. like, i’ll be in pjs and putting on lip gloss and my mom makes fun of me for it. also since i’m on the shorter side, i like to wear platform shoes since being tall makes me feel cool!

please & thank you!! i hope you have a nice day <3

Hi Nini! Than you for your request! I hope you like your matchups!

In Attack on Titan, I match you with...

Jean will take care of the bugs for you! He's also not a huge fan but he'll try to be your hero and get rid of whatever's making you uncomfortable.

Loves your rosy cheeks. He thinks they're very cute and he's almost always fighting the urge to squish them (he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable though so he holds back).

Jean likes when you tug on his arm to pull him over to a dog to say hello. He likes animals as well so he'll never say no to giving a cute dog a pat!

Would try out yoga but he's bringing Connie and Sasha along as well. If he's going to fail miserably at the Warrior Pose, he needs to be able to laugh at Connie struggling with the Downward Dog.

Enjoys baking with you. It doesn't matter what your making, there's going to be a bit of a mess at the end but he's happy to help you clean it up.

Jean will always be looking after your mental and physical health. He knows you can forget to take care of yourself while looking after others, so he'll remind you to have drinks and snacks when you need them.

In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...

Poe isn't super scared of bugs so he'll take care of them. He can't stand social interactions but taking bugs outside and letting them go? That's something he can do.

Likes the physical touch you give out so willingly. He's never been in a relationship where he's felt comfortable letting the other person give him hugs but he loves them from you.

Karl loves you! Please give him lots of love and affection as well. But if you give Karl a kiss on the head, make sure you give Poe one as well. Otherwise he'll be pouty until you give him one.

Doesn't cook a whole lot but loves eating your baking. He finds and snacks you make good inspiration for his writing. If he's ever got writers block, he just needs to have some of your baking and he's back on track.

Poe isn't the biggest fan of going out but if you want to go for a walk, he'll join you. Enjoys saying hello to all the animals you come across but don't expect him to interact with any people.

Loves reading with you! Especially when you're reading something he's written. He enjoys hearing his words come to life if you read to him out loud. This is exactly why he writes in his mind.

[thevoidscreamer]

Word Count Update! And other things!

I have created a spreadsheet on google sheets to catalog and visualize my word count progress as I continue to strive toward 1,000,000 words.

I set out on this journey on 5 June 2022. Today is 20 April 2023, and I want to take some time to reflect back on the past almost-year’s worth of life that has happened while I’ve been cataloging my word count progress. 

When I started this project, I was fresh out of a breakup, navigating polyamory and co-parenting with a broken heart. I had just bid my 7-year-long career farewell, and my future was uncertain. I was back in school after a year-long hiatus. I started this project on the heels of a lot of loss.

Since then, I’ve survived the despair-inducing end of a decade-long life partnership, read about four and a half dozen books, had the opportunity to practice forgiveness on my family and others who hurt me, celebrated finally publishing two more books, came out as nonbinary and aro-ace, navigated the unique experiences that come with being a parent to a Teenager (TM), and tied the knot. I also pushed through one of the most depressing cases of writer’s block I’ve ever experienced.

My writing, and indeed this project, was deeply entwined with that aforementioned now-ended decade-long queer-platonic life partnership. That person had become inextricably linked with my personal writing culture, and for the first time since they left town in 2020, I found myself having to write without them. Writing had been a bonding experience, a sacred and intimate act we did, together, for too long to remember. In this way, this person became synonymous with my first love (writing). To put words on paper without them in my life felt like sacrilege. 

So I had to learn to write again. And as I did, writing became my constant. It began with a desire to commune with the muse who had one been so tied to my former partner. Hours, days, weeks, months spent unable to even stare at the blank page without weeping. You could say I spent my time in prayer, lingering in a sort of probationary period in a religious order with whom I had fallen out of practice, out of favor. I was a neophyte once more, confined to a vow of silence.

And so I listened. And so I read. And so I studied. And soon enough, as if from an impossible primal well, the forms of words began to come. Trickling, at first... nonfiction about mostly nothings... struggling descriptions of my aching day-to-day perpetuity... bits and pieces of verse that, alone, amounted to... maybe something... and hours, days, weeks, spent between, just trying to replenish the well, to pull something forward that wasn’t the haunting emptiness of wordlessness.

As I write this, I am about to enter a new phase of my life, moving away from my home of 14 years to an entirely different state. I’m about to graduate college, shortly after I graduate to a new stage of parenthood: my kid is entering high school. I am about to become a first-time homeowner and spend much of my free time rehabilitating a house that was abandoned for almost three years.

The world around me has gotten more dangerous. And yet, I find myself excited to step outside in ways I haven’t felt since childhood. I feel the muse, her ebbs and flows, dancing with me as I go. I see her everywhere, her touch in the wind, her smile in the rain, her gaze in the migrating sunbeam where my cat takes a nap, her voice in the beating of my heart.

I have written over 470,000 words since last April, but the most important thing I have learned since then is... to be silent. To listen. To read. To study. I know now that, in the moments where I feel the muse has abandoned me, what I need is... silence. Between the moments of feverish typing and contemplative crafting, there is a necessary peacefulness.

I will take it as the blessing it is.

[jackwolfes]

if you still wanna talk about all your other wips i’m interested!!😌

oh love i always want to talk about my WIPs 😅

to be perfectly honest i've got writer's block BAD at the minute so i'm sort of not working on much of anything atm! january 2022 i took a big month-long break from posting and am probably going to do the same again this year (save for AM AU because that's already finalised)

the ones i've been particularly focused on lately are:

a very big very dark febuwhump fic that ties together all the prompts into a big long horrible narrative (which will be posted anon to a) avoid spamming folks with daily updates and b) to avoid getting fucking murdered in case people can't read tags)

comparatively a much nicer "there was only one bed" fic set in the immediate post-canon because shockingly, i have never written a take on the "i charge a steep fee/i'd like to make a downpayment" scene

the full list of them (+ some commentary) as they currently stand is under the cut if you're curious though:

soc:

a mystery valentines day fic for my GF which is a fudge shop au

dead jesper fic, which is fully written and just needs to be edited

wylan gets amnesia au, again fully written, just needs editing

the ever persistent sugar baby au which is ticking along

mini edits to arranged marriage au, plus a fair few pre- mid- and post-fic scenes (incl

kuwesper friends with benefits fic

kylan fucking in a private theatre box

the kylan/kawesper royalty au

the wynejesper fic aka wylan's sexuality exploration time

horny rockstar au

a very soft inesper first time fic that i've been playing around with

a few character studies about houses and homes

wedding florist wylan, most of which is him being stupid

a soft fluff fic where wylan gets high and makes a mess of himself

the cowritten "jesper can't read?" fic

a christmassy fic i'm cowriting with a friend wherein jesper gets catfished

the kazper fake married/"jesper gets left at the altar" fic

a wee lil nonbinary wylan fic/study that i think would really fit a big bang if the soc bb runs again this year 👀

a kazpernej pining fic that i'm in the plotting stages for because again, writer's block

similarly i've been thinking about my summery seaside au that i want to write but don't want to start when i have so many other long AUs i haven't touched

supermodel au which, annoyingly, i'm not sure works anymore as i've set it up

cowboy au, el dorado au, summertime cabin au and domx for hire wylan, all of which i'll definitely one day return to

trc:

the year of the otp challenge which i'm going to TRY and do for pynch, although i might need to backdate the first one because writer's block

what may end up being a full length bridgerton au but is currently just titled "bees?"

the jordeclan kink fic

the adam parrish kink character study

once for a tumblr ask i wrote a short snippet for a resurrection roadtrip au that i'm holding onto to see if i might want to carry on with it, but unsure

check please:

i'm still very very very very very fond of my zimbits superhero au so that's perpetually sticking around

i also really want to write a "bitty definitely has adhd" fic that ive outlined but not done much on

i'm also very nerve wrackingly looking at writing an original work!! which is scary and big! but i'm excited about it!

[hazardous-arcadia]

2023 writing plans

(now that i know what i'm doing)

I have two main projects for the year. One is the ever-perpetual Superman fic I keep re-booting because I keep getting different ideas I want to explore. Then the thing I started writing for fun took over as the primary origin story, so that's a thing now. This is a gonna be a long-ass motherfucker, so I don't see it being completed before the end of the year. I guess I’m just aiming for a respectable number of chapters.

The other project is a Fullmetal Alchemist 03 post-series AU fic. I have been trying to write this bitch of a story for since roughly 2007, after I saw Conqueror of Shamballa. In its most recent incarnation, it's actually two stories. One is written from Ed's PoV in London (eventually Munich) and the other is written from Al's PoV in Amestris. Each fic is about 18 chapters deep at the moment.

For some fucking reason that sounded really good in the heat of the moment, I decided to get ambitious with it. The two stories are intended to be mirrors of one another. How well that gets pulled off will probably be up to the audience to determine because I'm just too close to really see it. But it's been an interesting test of my planning skills, because my outlines are rarely so detailed so many chapters in advance. It makes me a little nervous, but I'm already 18 chapters in per fic, so it must be going well.

When will this get posted? No idea. I don't trust my ability to stick to deadlines. That's asking for the writer's block to hit me. I'd like to have both stories complete or close to it before I start posting, because some chapters in each fic have to go up one right after the other.

I also need to give them titles. 

[wornhandwornmind]

Sitting, Wasting Time and Space

Well, it’s day 6 of being home and the feeling has finally returned. 

The feeling of uselessness, sitting on the couch, watching YouTube videos, mindlessly scrolling on Twitter to pass the time. Looking at my computer screen for hours. 

I think if I were to go to the library, read, and or write, I wouldn’t feel as useless. But this doing nothing, while mi mum is fighting for her life (working a 9-5) is not cutting it. And to be honest, I really don’t want to work, I want to be in a perpetual state of erudition (I always want to be in school, doing school work). Although when the flux of assignments begin to pour in, and I have a deep desire to die (in the most enervated fashion), I’d much prefer to be exhausted to useless.

This has made me think about how either Marx, Rousseau, or maybe Mills said that if we were granted freedom from a life of toil, we wouldn’t know the first thing to do with that freedom. And soon freedom will appear burdensome to the conscience. 

I believe myself to be stuck in this state. However, I believe (whoever tf said what I have just stated above) meant to allude to the fact that there are so many fresh and rejuvenating fruits of which life bears that man never takes the initiative to seek. And this, no doubt, is true to a certain extent, and a wonderful idea in theory…but how can I seek the ripe fruits of life and possibility within the confinements of my mother’s apartment complex, within the confinements of the south suburbs of Hazel Crest?

Mind you, I could always get dressed, walk out the door, and begin my excursions, but unfortunately we live in a time period where ideas are halted at the hand of reality. Searching requires a freedom of fear, to a certain degree, yet fear is present at every corner, knocks on every door, and even encroaches upon the threshold of the home at times. 

(mental pivot)

While I was writing the prior few sentences I thought about this clip I saw of Joni Mitchell and her take on “Writer’s Block”. She goes on to say how writer’s block shouldn’t be a thing because there is always something to talk about, and if you think there isn’t, then you are probably afraid to approach a certain aspect of yourself or a certain topic, and dive into it. What I essentially took away from the clip was that fear is what causes writer’s block.

Flash forward to right now, I was going to say, we live in a time where fear or wariness is essential to survival. 

(sudden epiphany) Or maybe I need to exchange my fear for wariness. Shed the debilitating weight and try on the coat of cautious optimism. I always say this, yet the impending shadow that fear casts down upon my frame halts my hand from turning the knob. 

Anyways, here I go talking about being afraid again, but I think the conclusion that I’m arriving upon is that my fear is essentially what renders me useless, less likely to step one foot out of the door into the world of possibility. Fear is the gate of potential. I suppose it’s up to me to determine what I want to do with myself. I know uselessness doesn’t fit me well. What shall I do? 

What shall I do? 

(I usually don’t expand on these but the fear that I refer to above is of getting shot and or robbed as it is a big issue where I live) 

[flightlessangelwings]

Oh yeah absolutely I wasn’t trying to call you out specially or anything I mean more “you” as in “fandom” and I’m sorry if I came across that way. But I think this is still an important conversation to have regardless because I think this openness can really help bring people together and come to an understanding!

And I absolutely agree that the hate writers have gotten is really terrible and unnecessary. We’re supposed to be here together as a community and sending hate to those who do this in their spare time is a bad look. Especially when it drives people out of the fandom altogether. There’s no need for that level of bullying here or anywhere. And yeah this whole thing about having issue with writers using common tropes is very strange to me. Like we’re writing for fun and for passion, who cares if writers are using the same tropes and stuff! People need to lighten up and just ignore or block what they don’t like! And I hate treating writers like machines too it’s so rude and disrespectful!

Unfortunately tho, there is a lot of racism in fandom and that’s something I believe should be called out and addressed. Yes sometimes it’s unconscious because it’s so ingrained in society (especially for white Americans) but racism and fetishization absolutely should be called out in fandom when it’s seen and we should be allowing it to perpetuate here. Especially in Pedro fandom, a fandom for a Latino man, the fetishization is rampant and not only is it disrespectful to him but it also makes poc feel uncomfortable here to say the least. No one makes accusations like that wouldn’t just cause so I would take something like that seriously when it’s brought up.

But I do agree that we shouldn’t be gatekeeping either. Everyone should be free to write what they want, but there is some nuance to writing Latino and poc characters that write writers need to be aware and respectful of. Like, as I brought up before, the wild fetishization in fics that is absolutely gross and has no place in fandom or anywhere. All poc are asking for there is to be respectful when writing these characters and to listen when a mistake is made.

sigh…. people just keep perpetuating the narrative that poc readers who ask for what is essentially the bare minimum of reader insert writing on a public forum should take the responsibility of ignoring the kind of content and phrasing that has been peristent in every single fandom space for decades. i agree with some of your points especially about interacting with fics but i promise that your plea for people to be kinder to white writers has been made before and it’s why poc still have to read phrases like “your pale skin” “your cheeks redden” “you ran your fingers through your silky hair”

poc coded language in fics barely even existed ten years ago because the default Y/N in every fanfic was white. i grew up reading fics about white readers because it’s all that existed and it eventually made me WANT to be white because I genuinely started to believe that’s who people fell in love with. now personally I’ve never said anything to writers who use white coded language because I’m so used to just ignoring it but I don’t think it’s fair to brush off people’s frustrations and basically tell them to calm down about it. a lot of the time, the language isn’t even coded, it’s just straight up describing a white person. and im sure it seems like such a trivial non-issue to people who haven’t had experience with being excluded from fandom spaces that are supposed to be a safe space too. ignorance just can’t be an excuse anymore, especially for writers who are over 18 and should know better. it’s 2023 and reader insert fics should not default to white, especially with the numerous inclusive fic writing tips on this platform. @flightlessangelwings has a couple of great posts about it and are absolutely worth looking through for people who DO want to be inclusive in their writing.

First, I never said not to be inclusive or that I don’t want to be inclusive or that there isn’t a very real problem with reader defaulting to white. At no point did I say that the frustration was invalid or that it should be brushed off. Nor did I say that POC readers shouldn’t ask for or deserve more representation in fanfiction. I never said to just ignore the white coded language and keep reading silently. If an author claims their writing is all inclusive and then uses white coded language, then that is absolutely an issue and they deserve criticism. But just simply writing a white coded reader isn’t wrong, although I do agree it should be noted as a warning or in the summary for anyone who doesn’t want to read it. Please ask for POC stories, support and promote POC writers! The whole point of my post is to ask for it to increase diverse stories without attacking writers. These interactions can be civil, kind, and respectful, but they haven’t been for a long time. And my post isn’t exclusive to POC representation but to complaints surrounding all writing tropes, styles, etc. I’ve just seen the most animosity regarding the white-coded language.

My problem is the way I’ve been seeing people go about it recently. If you aren’t willing to follow, reblog, or interact with a writer to show your support, what right do you have to make demands of them? Why call them names, insult them, or attack their blogs? Why would they ever want to write for you if you treat them that way? I’ve seen so many people making these complaints or making snap judgements when they haven’t even bothered to try asking or making requests (it’s important to note this isn’t everyone and I’m not trying to call out anyone specific, I’ve just seen a lot more animosity lately and it’s really disappointing). Find someone whose writing you enjoy and ask them to write what you want to see or better yet try writing it yourself and build your own community instead of being mean spirited to writers you don’t even want to support in the first place. People write for fun on here, in their free time, they aren’t doing anything wrong writing what they want and they don’t owe anyone anything. Tumblr is supposed to be a community where we can enjoy our interests together.

[biisexualemma]

boys ain't shit. oscar diaz

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing, lots of just angst and angry feminist energy and if this doesn't align with your beliefs, feel free to leave!

requested: 'Hey!! First I want to say that you are an amazing writer so talented! So I was wondering if I could request and imagine with spookyxreader and she overhears Oscar speaking about her or something like maybe she is to clingy or anything you think will fit and then she sort of starts to leave him alone does t opposite of what she heard he doesn't like drifts a little he sees the change questions her and she tells him why- and so angst to fluff If you hate please disregard And thanks anyway ❤️'

a/n: thank you for this lovely request, i only apologise that it took me so long to write! but i'm also glad it did because i kept re-writing this over and over again and it never came out right, but i really love this version! i changed it slightly from the request lol i was listening to 'your power' by billie eilish on a loop while writing this and a lot of anger and preaching came out-- oop-- but also not mad about it. i really like this and hope you do too! enjoy 🤍

on my block masterlist / main masterlist

anger bubbled in your chest but your cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment. your stomach lurched, a mixture of emotions swirling through you. you were angry at him for being such an asshole, but mostly you were embarrassed that you'd found yourself in this position and hurt that he would think to treat you like this. he was an asshole, he always had been, you knew it before you started dating but, somehow, he still managed to worm his way in. mainly because when you were alone he was careful, and sweet, and kind. he cared about you, he told you any chance he got, and you believed him. you were always convinced he meant everything he said, which is why this stung all the more.

"nah, it ain't even like that— she's everywhere man, how you s'posed to shake a hyna like that?" their laughter rang through your ears as you stood, feet frozen in place, out of sight to them. "shit's ridiculous. she's always on top of me."

"man— if i had a hyna that fine on top o' me all the time—"

"the things i'd do—"

you shook your head, blocking out their vulgar comments and trying to rid of oscar's shrewd laughter filling your ears. you were sick to your stomach hearing him talk about you like that, to hear him encouraging his friends crude jokes about you.

you couldn't stop yourself as the small scoff left your lips, catching one of the boys' attention. sad eyes, his smile faltering when he spotted you tucked around the side of the house, listening to every word. "shit," you heard him mumble, nudging oscar whose back was facing you.

oscar always had a thing about keeping up his reputation, which you understood, to some extent, but this had nothing to do with that. this was his friends, talking about you as if you were an object to satisfy their needs. and he was encouraging them. this was you they were talking about, when he claimed to love you.

this wasn't a side to oscar you ever wanted to see, or believe existed. you knew how his friends could be, but to hear him condoning the shit coming out of his friends mouths, made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable.

not to even mention that he was being downright mean, and sleazy in talking about you. you could feel your anger growing the longer you stood there. oscar glanced over his shoulder, his face falling when his eyes met yours. your hands clenched into fists, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

you shook your head, finally knocked out of your state of shock, turning and stomping away from the group of santos. your breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping off you as the sweltering heat started to get to you. you were so angry you could cry. you trusted oscar with everything, it took you a long time to get to that point, and this is how he treated you.

you could hear his muffled calls from behind you getting louder as you continued to march away from the house. you yanked your wrist away when you felt his hand latch onto you, and carried on your walk home.

he sped up, jogging so he stopped dead in front of you, holding out his hands when you tried to manoeuvre around him. "i don't wanna talk to you right now," you spoke calmly, trying again to move past him, his hands latching onto your shoulders to keep you still.

"just— hang on will you—"

you shook your head repeatedly. "no—"

"i don't know what you heard but—" his grip tightened when you tried to wriggle free.

"no," you repeated harsher.

"y/n— c'mon— that was nothing—"

"oscar," you raised your voice, cutting off his ramblings. his eyes never left your face, his eyebrows unknitting when your frown deepened. he scrunched his eyes shut for a second, frustrated he'd upset you. he was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. "no," you repeated once more. his hands slowly released their grip on you, letting you walk passed him. you heard his curse under his breath, walking away from him.

you felt your lip quiver, a lump now growing in your throat as your anger turned into heartache. you weren't sure you wanted to forgive him. but, for now at least, you were going to give him exactly what he wanted. space.

-

hours later and you were stood in the middle of a crowded party, your teeth clenched around the rim of a red solo cup, biting nervously. you hadn't wanted to come, you would much rather have been at home with a pint of ice cream. but your friend convinced you that getting out of the house tonight would be better for you than wasting away your life thinking about boys and eating ice cream. so far, you weren't so sure she was right.

you'd lost count the amount of times you'd heard loosen up and, you should smile more, thrown at you tonight. you weren't in the right headspace to be surrounded by people who were drunk out of their mind, constantly telling you to cheer up. you wanted to shout out to the entire party, fuck off, so everyone would know to just leave you alone.

so when you spotted his familiar face across the room, having just entered the party, you almost lost it. "no," you muttered to yourself. "not happening," you shook your head. he had been exactly what you came here to get away from. you let out frustrated sigh, shoving your cup into your friends hand and pushing yourself out of the crowd of people.

you hoped to god that oscar hadn't spotted you. you could not hash this out with him right now, that pint of ice cream in your freezer at home was calling your name, and you were ready to claim it.

"fuck me," you felt a hand graze the small of your back. you shivered away from the unwanted touch, turning with a deep-set frown on your face, towards the stranger who'd touched you. "you're hot when you're angry like that—"

"i'm also a fucking psycho when i'm angry so back off," you spat harshly, pushing away the hand he held lingering on your skin. "and don't touch me again," the man backed up, his hands held up in front of him. you huffed, continuing to the exit.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as the cool night air hit your bare skin. you'd left your jacket inside, turning to retrieve it, you saw oscar walking right at you. deciding it wasn't worth the effort, you left, you'd rather freeze than have a conversation with him right now.

"i know you hate me," you heard him call from behind you, his pace quickening as he tried to catch up with you. "but you can't walk home by yourself."

you ignored him, hastening your walk so you didn't have to do this with him. you knew he was right, you knew how incautious you were being walking home late at night alone. but you also desperately wanted nothing to do with him right now.

"ma," you shook your head, trying not to lose it on him in the middle of the street. "c'mon—"

"no— you c'mon oscar," you halted your stride, not able to ignore him any longer. you might as well get it out of your system if he was going to keep persisting. "i have had it with men today. i never wanted to have to include you in that."

he ducked his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows you noticed now you'd stopped to look over him. his eyes rolled, letting out a heavy sigh he'd clearly been holding in for a while.

"c'mon," he tilted his gaze away from yours for a second, trying not to cave under your stare. "you know what the santos are like— it's not my job to keep 'em in check."

"it is when it's me they're talking about," you gritted your teeth, looking at him in disbelief. you'd expected that this was how the conversation was going to go down. which is exactly why you tried to avoid it, you simply didn't have the energy to stand here and explain basic human decency to him. "not to mention— it is literally your job. you run the santos."

"it's not that simple," he ran his hand over his face, taking a small step closer to you. his eyes meeting with yours, begging you not to run off again as he held out a cautious hand towards you. "they didn't mean anythin' by what they said— you think if they did i'd let them 'in an inch of you?"

"you're perpetuating a violent cycle of sexism and objectification by letting your friends talk about any girl like that," you felt your throat tighten, tears had, at some point, welled in your eyes. "and that's not even mentioning what you said about me."

he closed his eyes for a second, his hand dropping back to his side. he turned away from you for a moment, releasing a deep breath he'd been holding. "i didn't mean it," he shook his head, swinging round to face you again. his brown eyes, that you'd always been a sucker for, were literally boring into you. if you hadn't been so angry you would've done anything for him. "i wasn't thinking and i never thought you'd ever hear—"

"that makes it ok then?" you frowned, eyes narrowing at him. "god knows what else you've said about me when i haven't been around to hear it," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep up your appearance despite the tears threatening to fall.

"s'not what i meant," he threw is arms up in frustration. he had, in all honesty, been talking without thinking about what he was saying. he was tired and stressed about how stretched out his time was at the moment. he was taking on more and more work, and therefore, more and more stress and he wasn't dealing with it well. he clenched his jaw when you sniffled, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand. his eyelids drooped. "nena.."

"i just, don't get it," you let out a shaky breath, holding out your hands to stop him moving any closer to you. "if i was being too much, all you had to do was say."

his chest tightened hearing you talk about yourself like that. he shook his head, trying again to reach out to you but you only stepped further away. "you're not too much," he spoke quieter this time. oscar loved you, more than he'd ever loved a girl before, that much was true. he might be bad at showing it sometimes, maybe he let his frustration get the better of him a lot, and maybe he didn't simply tell you enough how much you meant to him. but he loved you, much more than you were aware of.

"then why would you say it?" your voice was soft, breaking when you spoke again. exhaustion was starting to get the better of the both of you. you didn't want to fight with him, you just couldn't get his words out of your head. why would he say it if he didn't mean it?

"it's not you," he reiterated, his lips pursed. he used his forefinger and thumb to unknit the crease between his brows. "it's everything else. with cesar fucking around, shit with the prophets, cuchillos— and then you," he ducked his head, pressing the palm of his hand into his forehead. "i don't know how to manage everything and make time for you."

"why didn't you just tell me?" your features softened, eyes watching him move under your stare. "it's what i'm here for."

he scrunched up his nose, shrugging. "i don't want you involved in santos business," you understood more than you did five minutes ago, but you were still holding yourself back.

"i'm already involved, oscar, it's too late for that," this caught his attention, his brown eyes focused on yours again. you weakened a little. "but if you would just talk to me instead of keeping everything to yourself, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

he nodded faintly, almost uncertain of where you were taking this conversation. last thing he wanted was to lose you because of something so stupid on his end. he reached out, you letting him come close enough now so he could take hold of your hands in his. he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, tugging you closer.

"you know, i love you," you mumbled now he was only inches away from you. "i don't wanna do this again so talk to me, please."

he nodded again, giving your hand another squeeze of reassurance. "i'll try," the way his brown eyes stuck to you made you believe he meant what he said. "i'll do better. promise. i'll keep the santos in check, too. you don't need to worry."

you sunk into his chest, letting him engulf you in a tight hug. you released a shaky breath of relief. his arms wrapped around you, your face squashed against his chest and your arms tightened around his torso. "love you, too, by the way," he mumbled, his mouth pressed into your head of hair. "so much."

[starryjeekies]

~ Just Bein’ a Pal ~

Pairing: johnny x afab reader

Genre: smut

Summary: there’s something you’ve always had a problem that prevents you from dating. johnny, being a pal, just wants to help you out overcoming your problem.

Warning(s): fingering, pet names, talk about oral, nothing extreme

Words: 4k

A/N: hello! I’ve been having some really bad writer’s block and in general problems with my health so I’m sorry for the lack of posts. I plan to get through my asks soon! also look out for a new spicy post from me soon, I plan to start writing it this week.

You couldn’t really complain much about your life. You had a good paying job, a decently priced apartment that you shared with your best friend, and you didn’t have too many stressors in your life. The one stressor that you couldn’t seem to solve, though, did make you quite frustrated. It made dating hard and because of that, you were perpetually single. Hookups were out of the question and you would constantly grow frustrated that the only way to get off was because of yourself. It made you even more frustrated that your roommate was constantly banging chicks left and right, having exponentially more sex than you. You desperately wished you could do that.

When you come home from work one day, Johnny is already relaxing on the couch with his favorite TV show on. “Got out early today?”

“Yeah, it was pretty slow and I have to wait for Haechan to come back from vacation to work on our project.” He says, turning to smile towards you. He sees your exhausted look and asks, “Long day?”

“Yeah, I’m going to try to unwind for a bit.” You sigh, kicking your shoes off.

“Okay, I’ll start dinner and I’ll call you when you’re ready.” He tries to take a load off of you, turning back to his show.

“Thanks, John.” You walk past behind the couch to your room, ruffling his hair lightly in the process. “You’re the best.” You go into your room and close the door. You slough off your work clothes and replace them with comfier shorts and a tank top. Lying down on your bed, you pull out your phone to start scrolling through Tumblr. You try to forget about the stress of your workday but it doesn’t seem to pass. There’s only one thing that usually works but even then, that can stress you out. Fuck it, it can’t get any worse.

You set your phone down on your nightstand and start trailing your hand down into your shorts. After slipping your hand underneath your underwear, your middle finger starts to circle your clit. You breathe out shakily as you feel some stress releasing from your shoulders. Your mind starts to go blank as you focus solely on your pleasure. Sometimes the jolts to your clit makes your legs quiver and your breath catches in your throat. After a few more seconds of rubbing, you lightly dip your fingers into your heat to collect some of your juices to aid you in your quest for an orgasm.

Your body starts getting hotter, your forehead starting to bead with sweat. You gulp down any moans that may threaten to spill to not alert Johnny to what you’re doing, not that he would really care anyway. The coil starts to build in your core as you continue between circles and strokes, trying to prolong it as much as you could. You can feel your fingers start to be slick from your arousal. Your breathing starts getting ragged as you continue to work your body in your favor. Fuck it, now or never.

You slowly sink your middle finger into your cunt, relishing in the way you’re easily able to slide into yourself. You pump your finger in and out of your hole, your palm hitting your clit every time. After feeling relaxed enough, you try to slip your ring finger alongside your middle one and start to feel that uncomfortable stretch. You huff out, slightly frustrated, and start trying to work your way to your orgasm again. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t keep your orgasm building and instead felt your cunt become sore. “God fucking damnit.” You give up on your endeavor of penetration and focus back on your clit.

It’s a shame that because of your test, the orgasm you do have is less intense than ones you’ve had before. It takes everything in you to not scream into your pillow about the situation. For some reason, no matter what, penetration just doesn’t work. It’s almost like your body refuses to open up and let anything in no matter how wet you are. That’s what makes dating hard. That’s why you can’t do hookups. No guy actually knows where the clit is so there’s no way for you to be able to get off in sexual intimacy with a partner. It irritates you.

You get up off of the bed, fixing your underwear and shorts before grabbing your water bottle and heading to the bathroom. After washing your hands, you make your way to the kitchen to fill it up in the sink.

Johnny has started making dinner, cutting up some vegetables. He takes in your scowl, slowing down on his motions. “What’s got you looking so sour?”

“Nothing.” You grumble, looking at the running water and then keeping your eyes on the counter as you take a drink. Your sigh is deep as you keep your eyes off of him.

“Doesn’t really sound like ‘nothing’ to me, but keep your secrets.” His voice is lighter, letting you know he doesn’t mind listening to you.

You glance up at him, then push your hair out of your face. Your eyes rest back on your water bottle. “Have you ever had problems, like, fucking a girl?”

“Uh, you mean like when a girl turns me down?” He chuckles lightly, his brown eyes looking at you.

“No, like, actually having sex.” You huff, not knowing exactly how to word it. “Like putting it in?”

“I know where the hole is, Y/N, and I feel insulted if you think otherwise.” He quirks an eyebrow up, completely stopping what he’s doing.

“Johnny, give me a break, okay? It’s fucking embarrasing.” You hide your face in one hand. “Asking sex advice in general is embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking questions.” He assures, setting the knife down. “I think it’s just interesting you’re coming to me for pussy advice.”

“Jesus christ, okay, have you ever not been able to put it in?” You blurt out, causing him to shut up. “Like no matter how much lube or foreplay you do, it’s hard to put it in?”

Johnny’s eyes dart around your face, seeing how vulnerable you’re being. “Not like a hymen thing, but a tightness thing.”

“Yes,” You look up at him for a moment to see him attentively listening to you. “No matter what I do, it hurts. It’s not supposed to hurt, uncomfortable for a moment, maybe, but anything more than a finger hurts.”

Johnny nods, starting to piece together more of your story. “Have you ever had a dick fully inside you?”

“Once and I actually started crying, it hurt so bad.” You mumble, remembering the last time you tried having sex. “He told me I was tight but he wasn’t even abnormally big, like he was pretty average. I pushed him off because it wouldn’t stop stinging.”

His face is soft, not wanting you to regret being vulnerable with him. You and Johnny always trust each other, there wasn’t a reason either of you wouldn’t come to each other for advice. He knew you didn’t really mess around like he did; he couldn’t really name a time you talked about seeing someone or going out with someone in the year you lived together. Now it’s starting to make sense as to why. “Well, let me give you the advice I gave Mark,”

“Not Mark.”

“Sometimes it’s best to do nothing.”

You blink at him, not understanding what exactly he means, Your ears start to grow red when you ask him, “So like, better to just give up and not have sex?”

“No, no, not like that.” He tries to clear up what he means. “Like once he’s in, to not move at all. Let you adjust to whatever it is first before starting to move. I had to give that advice to Mark so he wouldn’t nut too quickly.”

You roll your eyes lightly, knowing your mutual friend would be the guy to nut as soon as he first slips into a girl. “So pretty much just wait it out once he’s in? How can I stop a guy from full on railing me and keep him long enough to be okay?”

“Hopefully the guys you fuck won’t be impatient assholes.” He quips, earning a light slug in the shoulder from you. “You don’t wanna fuck someone who doesn’t listen anyway.”

“Fair point. I just wish I knew how long it will take to adjust.” You groan, taking another drink of your water.

“We can test it out?”

You look at him, not sure if he’s serious or not. “We or me?”

“We, guy fingers are longer and thicker than yours anyway so you’d need to get the real deal.” He suggests it's a board game night.

You stare at him for a moment before  bursting out in a chuckle. “Just a pal fingering another pal.”

“Just bein’ a pal.” He agrees, a light shrug coming off of his shoulders. “You don’t have to obviously, but it might help when you do it first with someone who can understand you.”

“Oh so you understand my pussy problems?” You laugh, watching him put his hands up in defense.

“Listen, I’m not saying I’m gigantic or anything, but I’ve had to stay still to let them adjust before.” He’s slightly cocky while saying it, but you can agree. You accidentally walked in on Johnny masturbating before and he…does not disappoint.

“No, no, I take your word for it.” You shake your head lightly, setting your water bottle down. “My bed or yours?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, he just stares at you and blinks like you did earlier. “Right now?”

“I mean why not? You offered and I’m taking you up on that offer.” You say plainly. “Might as well do it now to try it out.”

“Then let’s try the couch, I’ll get better leverage.” He says, washing his hands in the sink beforehand.

You nod and start heading to the couch, moving the pillows out of the way to make room for you and Johnny. You discard your shorts to the edge of the coffee table and wait in your undies, hearing the sound of the water turn off.

Johnny walks back over to you, seeing you wait for him patiently on the couch. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah, I’ll just block it out that it’s you.” You smirk, seeing him reel back like he’s been sucker punched.

“Wow, right to the ego.” He stumbles back lightly but then sits on the couch next to you. “Do you have lube or do you want to get yourself wet?”

“I think I can do it, I think my rebound has worn off.” You take off your panties and rest your feet on the edge of the coffee table, hiking your knees up and spreading your legs enough to allow yourself access. The thought of Johnny watching you is kind of humiliating but it might just help even though you would never admit it to him. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Just here to help.” He says nonchalantly. He watches as you close your eyes and your hand trails down there. He sees the way your chest heaves at first when your fingers finally touch your clit. He takes notes of exactly how you touch yourself. He would never let you know he’s wondered exactly how you would fit around him, a fleeting thought he has once every couple of months. Now he’s more nervous for you as he really doesn’t know if you could take him. Logically, he knows you probably could with enough adjustment and work, but he doesn’t want to hurt you like the others have. You’re still his best friend after all, he just wants to help.

With thinking about Johnny’s fingers being inside you, it helps you speed up your slickness. Just like before, you dip your middle finger into your heat to spread it around and try to lubricate your whole cunt. You can feel the coil start to wrap up again as your eyebrows knit up, ready to try and chase that high again.

“Easy, baby girl, can’t have you cumming just yet.” Johnny’s voice is low, trying to ease you out of your march towards an orgasm. “Can’t be overstimulating you.”

You quickly pull your hand away, knowing he’s right and you should stop before you get too deep in. Your chest is heaving and your eyes flutter open lightly, trying to bring yourself back to earth. “Okay, okay. I think I’m good.”

Your older friend grabs your hand in his, holding it gently. “If it hurts, let me know. I’ll go slow.”

You nod, giving him a light squeeze in return. “Thanks, pal.”

He smiles at your lightheartedness, then puts his first two digits into his mouth to coat them with his spit. Once he pulls away, a tiny string of saliva falls from his lips. He slowly rubs over your folds, making sure to pick up as much arousal as he can before sliding one finger in you. Your hand squeezes him gently and he can feel exactly what you mean; even with one finger, it feels tighter than what he’s done previously.

You bite your lip lightly, trying not to hold your breath at what’s to come. It doesn’t feel too terrible, nothing you couldn’t withstand, but it was easy to feel every inch of his finger. It didn’t seem like depth was going to be a problem for you. Johnny’s hands were, indeed, much larger than yours but the length didn’t seem to affect your comfortability as much as the stretch did. You could feel Johnny’s gaze on you and you open your eyes to see him trained on your face. You huff slightly, taking a glance down at his hand resting inside you. “Piece of cake.”

“You sure you’re okay?” He wonders, able to tell you’re still nervous about the possibility of pain. “Or do you want me to wait?”

“It wasn’t bad, number two is where it’s going to suck though.” You huff, eyes now fixated on his hand. “I promise I won’t scream.”

“If you did, I’d stop.” He promises, then slides his finger out and slowly starts putting two in. “Just tell me when.”

You take note about how two guy fingers feel almost equal to three of your fingers and your face screws up, feeling that stretch again. Your grip on his hand tightens as he’s about halfway before the burning becomes too much. Your nails dig into the back of his hand as you hurriedly say, “Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop!”

Johnny immediately holds his movements, not going any further with you. “It’s okay, keep breathing,” He places a gentle kiss on your temple, resting his forehead against you afterwards. “Just wait it out.”

“This looks like the exact opposite of childbirth.” You joke, your eyebrows flicking up in slight amusement. “You pushing something into my vagina.”

The man laughs, causing your tensions to fade slightly. “Hopefully this isn’t as painful.”

“Unless we can figure this out, I won’t be having kids to find out.”

The man takes note of how your face relaxes as the moments go by. He feels more at ease the more you relax. He can’t really tell if your walls are relaxing along with your mental state, and he won’t know until you give him the okay to move again. Realization starts to finally set in that he, Johnny Suh, has his fingers halfway pushed into your, Y/N Y/L/N, pussy. He’s been in slippery situations, but has never done something like this with one of his best friends. “You know, I can honestly say this is the first time I’ve done something like this with my best friend before.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over at his face, starting to try to relax your thigh muscles so you don’t get a cramp. “Can’t say the same.”

“You’ve fingered a best friend’s pussy?”

“No but I did suck Jeno’s dick before.”

“What?” He sounds astonished that he did not know this information beforehand. “When did you do that?”

“Summer of last year on that camping trip me, him, Jaemin, Xiaojun, Ten, and Sungchan all went on.” You explain, shifting slightly further up on the couch but careful not to move too much. “We were two to a tent and in the morning, he woke up with wood and unsuccessfully tried to take care of it without waking me up. So I sucked his dick and went to make pancakes.”

He stares at your face for a second, taking in the fact you’ve sucked Jeno’s dick before his. “‘So I sucked his dick and went to make pancakes.’ That is the most nonchalant way I’ve ever heard someone say they gave their friend oral.”

“Neither of us have brought it up to this day, so just think of it as like now, just helping a friend out.” You wink, then swallow slightly. “Which I think you might be good to move.”

“If you’re sure,” He continues, starting to push further into you.

You watch as his fingers slip further inside of you, feeling the way they start sliding easier again against you. The pain is duller now, not as stinging as it was before. You feel his palm reach your clit without feeling any more significant pain. You squeeze his hand lightly, letting out a light breath. “Oof, okay, that wasn’t so bad.”

“Starting to feel better?” He wonders, his voice still soft.

“Yeah, yeah a little. I can still feel it stretching but it’s not unbearable anymore.” You explain, resting your head back against your couch. You turn to him a little and ask, “How many fingers do you usually use when you finger a girl?”

“Oh, that’s a question.” He laughs at the fact you’re having this conversation more than the question itself. “If it’s for foreplay, then just two. If I’m fingering to get her off, then three.”

“I’m good to stick with two.” You say, wondering about if you can do this again to try to get to three. “We can try three next time.”

“So you want a next time?” Johnny smirks, seeing the way your cheeks turn pink. “What’s in it for me?”

“Hold on a second, I don’t even know if I can cum with penetration!” You try to defend yourself. “There’s no point in doing three if actual penetration doesn’t feel good.”

“So now you’re suggesting I finger fuck you?” He sounds like you’re making an incredulous request.

“You’re already halfway there, John, come on.” You huff, wanting to try to get off now that he’s here. Now that your body has relaxed enough, you hope that something actually doing work down there might give great rewards. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it was Johnny who was the first man to make you cum. You squeeze Johnny’s hand and shake it slightly. “I’ll suck your dick once whenever you want me to, just please finger me.”

“Desperate now, okay, okay.” His voice is sultry, giving your temple a kiss before his fingers start sliding out of you. “Whatever you want, baby girl.”

You feel Johnny take his time sliding out of you before pushing back in. Everytime he repeats his motion, his palm rests roughly against your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as you try to keep yourself from straining your body. You don’t want to make yourself too stressed about your body not obeying you, so you keep your mind free of worry and focus on Johnny taking care of you. It starts to finally feel good, something that was so foreign to you unless it was yourself. Now that Johnny is in control of your pleasure, it seems like an orgasm is more tangible.

“Finally feeling good, baby girl?” Johnny whispers in your ear, feeling your body start to make it easier for him to move in and out of you. With the desperate nod of your head, he smiles and starts to move a bit faster. He watches as you squirm, making sure he’s still making you feel good. His eyes glide down to watch as he moves in and out of you, seeing his fingers slick with your arousal. He smirks with his pride. “I can tell you’re feeling much better.”

“It finally feels good, fuck.” You breathe out, trying to move your pelvis to hit his hand. Now you feel comfortably full with his fingers inside you. You can feel your head start to spin when you start thinking of how his dick would feel inside of you. It makes your walls convulse around him. There was still that tinge of a stretch but it feels full. The burn you feel in your core isn’t from pain but from pleasure. Your orgasm is building up from penetration, from Johnny. The whimpers that come out of your mouth could be seen as pathetic but you don’t care.

“You sound adorable when you whine.” His voice is low and sultry, hot against your ear. He is drinking up your moans and the way your pussy is sucking his fingers into you. He takes notice of the way you bite your lip to prevent yourself from sounding needy but he wishes you would let them out. Seeing you feel good is one thing, being the one to make you feel good is a whole other. He can see the way you’re starting to lose control as your hips keep moving, trying to get as much contact as possible. “You want to cum for me, baby?”

“I’m so close, fucking so close, Johnny.” Your eyes flutter open to look at him and you swear you could’ve cum just from looking at how his eyes are focused on you. You squeeze his hand, wanting him to absolutely destroy you. “More, please?”

“Well, since you said please.” He squeezes your hand back slightly. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You were taken aback by how he starts to piston his hand into you, not hitting you too hard but his speed is on another level. The words start tumbling out of your mouth. Incoherent babbles fill the room growing in pitch and volume. The way his palm hits your clit perfectly every time too doesn’t help. The knot is finally about to burst when his fingers start to curl up to hit your g-spot and you can’t help but squeal as it washes over you. The orgasm hits hard as your legs start to shake and your chest heaves with your breathing. Your body goes cold before it heats back up, rushing up your head and down your legs.

His fingers slow down but stay inside you as you come down from your orgasm. He watches as you try to regain your senses, your body still convulsing every few seconds from your release. He presses another soft kiss to your temple, watching your lips quirk up in a small smile.  “Did that do the trick?”

“Thankfully.” You giggle lightly. Your eyes open up to see him with a smile on his face too. “You have become my new favorite person.”

“Well, I won’t be after this. Stay still.” He mentions, then his fingers start to slowly slide out of you. He sees the way your face contorts from overstimulation. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Could’ve left them there for a minute.” You groan. The full feeling is now gone and is replaced with a slight ache, but nothing too horrid.

“Maybe you should try cockwarming next time.” He suggests, placing his fingers on his tongue to wipe them clean of you.

You’re mesmerized for a second, watching him have a taste of you. “First of all, hot. Secondly, let’s try three fingers, then cockwarming.”

“Name a time and place.” Johnny suggests, his eyes clearing up from their lustful haze. “Don’t forget you promised to suck my dick though.”

“I could take care of that now.” You smirk, then glance down at his basketball shorts to see his little tent. “Since, you know, circumstances arose.”