#this piece wasn't meant to be perfect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unconventional-lawnchair · 30 days ago

Note

Hi I love your fics and was hoping you’d like this request:)) I was thinking a fic with James x fem!reader where she’s a slytherin but not in the stereotypical way that James and the marauders typically see them as. She’s not cold hearted or prejudice, rather quite friendly and very artsy. I was thinking an enemies to lovers where James just generalizes her with the slytherin she doesn’t like so he’s not the kindest to her, but maybe she gets paired up for an assignment with Remus so James ends up having to be around her a bit and realizes she doesn’t suck lol. Think he would definitely have to work for her affection after fumbling the ball so hard but im a sucker for a happy ending!

I hope this sounds like something you’d enjoy writing, if not that’s totally ok too❤️

Masterpiece

James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: (see above) James Potter goes a little too far with a girl everyone happens to like.

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it <3

CW: not proof read, use of {Y/N}, Jealous and Stupid James, sexual implied ending, Protective salty Remus, self indulgent, cursing, very slight angst, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo,

WC: ~9k

The sky was overcast and the wind was blowing rapidly, causing your sleeves to billow as the very stool you perched on teetered from side to side. You grabbed the seat and tried to steady your perch, holding up your paint brush away from your portrait as the creamy white shade dripped down on your bare legs.

Dressed in casual clothes, your paint stained denim short overalls and a striped shirt that hid evidence of handprint smears from your absentminded messes. Sleeves rolled up to show your speckled skin already decorated with splotches of white and browns, fresh hazy grays that resembled the foggy ground of Hogwarts and its students.

“{Y/N} {L/N}?” A voice so calm and careful called out from behind you. You turned and smiled on instinct, your eyes landing on the tall figure. He was also in more casual clothes, a brown cable knit sweater vest over a simple white button down shirt. He was holding up a piece of paper to his eyes before he put it in his pocket. Smiling so kindly, where the corners of his eyes crinkled and his scarred lip curled up to reveal perfectly uneven teeth.

Ballet white.

“Remus Lupin?” You called out to him and he chuckled, taking a few long steps to stand beside you.

“You were meant to wait for me, you know.” He teased and slipped his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But this was the perfect time for it.” You lifted your hands to gesture to the sky and he looked around to try and find what exactly made this 'perfect.’

“How’d you even manage to get in here?” He quizzed and took a seat on the railing. Looking around at the castle grounds from the top of RavenClaw’s tower, you got the perfect view of the astronomy tower, what you were currently painting.

“There wasn't much convincing involved. Barty Crouch walked me up here.” You smirked and he looked bewildered.

“You know Crouch?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Remus furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together how he hadn't heard of you before. Seeing as he was meant to be escorting you two and from each Hogwarts house for your own personal study, it seemed unlikely he wouldn't of known of you, getting this particular form of special treatment from the headmaster himself.

Remus walked around you and took a peak at what you were painting. The air so familiar, and comforting, both of you had forgotten you had just met.

“What are you painting?”

“Magical paintings.” You hummed and he furrowed his brow further.

“Don't you usually need a subject?”

“Traditionally.” You muttered and gestured for him to sit down. He listened almost instantly, sitting down on the floor next to you, laying his crutch across his lap. After a moment of pause you shrugged and set your paint aside, shifting to sit beside him on the floor, making him chuckle.

“Do you know how they work?”

“Not a clue.” He shifted to sit and face you fully. Both of you crossed your legs, like tots ready to swap unearthing secrets in the school yard.

“Well. What you're thinking of is magical portraits. The art of bringing the life of the subject to the painting.” You declared almost breathless. “But that's amature work.”

He gave a delighted and startled laugh at your bold declaration, but it didn't impede you.

“The true magic is being able to bring life that isn't visible to the naked eye, to visual art forms.” You declared and gestured to your painting. Remus’s eyes flickered up and widened a bit. You gave an excitable bright smile as you both watched the misty fog in your painting shift, the faint stars in the background twinkle against the backdrop, and even the few faint sketches of students within the distant tower moving about.

“Woah.” He whispered and you nodded eagerly.

“Isn't it inspiring?”

“It is.” He agreed instantly before he looked back at you. “But, doesn't it typically take magic from the subject for it to work effectively? How does this work?”

“Well, don't you think Hogwarts is possibly the most magical place in the world?” You argued and he chuckled at how easily you brushed off the question.

Of course, no one truly knew how it worked. Not that the creator of the art method ever documented his findings. The only clear part of it was not everyone had the knack for it. You were lucky, since you were young, to be able to produce the art even before you got your magic.

You turned to Remus, who was watching with rapt attention.

“Do you want to try?” You offered, a mischievous smile taking over your features that looked startlingly familiar to Remus.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me? Paint?”

“Why not? You might find you have a hidden talent!” You encouraged, handing him a brush and a palette.

Reluctantly, he took the brush, glancing at the canvas as if it were a daunting task. Exaggerative hesitation to defile such a beautiful painting. You grinned, ready to guide him through it. Little did you know that in that moment, you had endeared yourself to Remus in a way not many people were able to.

For the next few hours, well after curfew, you and Remus stayed perched on the RavenClaw tower, as you instructed him on what colors and paints to use. He was doing his best not to ‘ruin it’, which quickly went out the window when, in a moment of playful determination, you covered your hands in black paint and began to stamp your canvas. Convincing him that you truly didn't care what he did to the painting as long as it was fun.

Finally, you both snuck out of the RavenClaw tower as quietly as possible, trying not to wake anyone. Leading to you two in the halls, laughing and joking as he carried your canvas for you.

“So, you're self taught?” He prodded and you nodded.

“Yup! Have been doing this since I was.. four? Likely. My mother showed me.” You hummed and he gave a delighted laugh.

“Really? So you're studying in your free time?”

“Mhm! It's not something that can really be.. taught. So Hogwarts doesn't have classes on it quite yet.” You waved your hand vaguely and he nodded.

“You're telling me this now, after all that time trying? You got my hopes up, {L/N}.”

You giggled and he put his hand over his heart in fake anguish.

“I was this close to changing career paths, you know.”

“Oh, I'm sure you were. I could see the headline now: 'Remus Lupin, Future Auror, Turns Painter After One Magical Evening.'” You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to Defense Against the Dark Arts, thank you very much. But this-” He gestured to the covered painting with a soft look. “You turned this mess into something amazing. You're truly talented.”

“I know.” You sang and he laughed, nudging you.

“I'm serious, you know.”

“Sirius? I thought you were his boyfriend?”

“Oh Merlin, you're as bad as they are.”

You gave a laugh of your own and shoved him back. “Oh, you Marauders? Please tell me you're joking.”

“No, no, truly. I think you'd get along. Gryffindor tower is next, right?” He prodded as you both entered the hall and stopped just before the dungeons’ entrance.

“Mhm.”

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” He offered and held out his hand. You took it with a firm shake and you both said your goodbyes, hurrying over to the Slytherin common room.

~~~

“She's quite fun, showed me how to match pallets colors.” Remus rambled on to Lily who gave a delighted laugh at how excited he was to show her his new found artistic ability. They were sitting on the couch together, and he was exposing to her why his newest sweater vest was absolutely ruined

“She sounds lovely.” Lily hummed, Sirius smirking from his spot between Remus’s knees, looking up at him. Eyes closed as one of the werewolf’s hands tangled in his loches of hair.

“So lovely you should just marry her.” Sirius teased and Remus glared at him, giving a particularly rough tug at his boyfriend's hair. Sirius giving a chuckle and biting his lip. “I see no punishment here.”

“You-”

“Whose getting hitched?” James piped up from the stairs, jogging over and hopping onto the couch. Making the cushions bounce a bit as he got comfortable. “Evans, how can you let this happen? A Hogwarts marriage that's not our own?”

Lily gave a sigh and rolled her eyes, gathering her things and saying her goodbyes to Remus and Sirius, giving James the cold shoulder with a simple ‘Potter’ as he put his hand over his chest and sunk further into the cushions.

“She says that name like it won't be hers someday.” He sighed fondly before he turned to look at the other two. “Where's Wormy?”

“He's on a date with a Hufflepuff.” Sirius snickered. “Some seventh year dude.”

“Huh.” James muttered and looked at the ceiling. “Didn't think he'd be the type to date older.”

“Yeah well-” Before Sirius could continue, Remus’s head peaked up from the couch when there was a knock on the portrait door.

“That her?” Sirius asked as Remus slugged out of his seat to get around his clingy boyfriend.

“Likely!” He shouted back and James tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Who?” He quizzed Sirius and he smirked up at James.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, the artist extraordinaire.” Sirius replied with mock seriousness, adjusting his position to climb onto the couch. “Remus has been raving about her all evening.”

“{Y/N} {L/N}? Where have I heard of her before?” James leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Oh! That paint girl? One who has been doing those weird paint studies around school?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Sirius replied, grinning. “Apparently, she's doing some self study. Remus was practically glowing when he talked about her.”

James’s eyes widened with intrigue. “That’s brilliant! I’ve heard whispers about her- it’s supposed to be absolutely mesmerizing.”

“I wouldn't go that far.” You interjected, stepping through the portrait hole just in time to catch the end of the conversation. You were slightly out of breath, having hurried from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor tower, your paint-stained overalls still evidence of your artistic endeavors from yesterday. Looking around at the beautiful common room. A very faded almost gray-green scarf around your neck.

Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch

The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You teased with a playful grin, glancing around at the familiar faces of the infamous boys. Sirius was looking you over curiously, with his typical sleazy grin, but James seemed absolutely slack jawed. After a moment of a wait you gave a small laugh, snapping James out of whatever trance he was in. Turning to look at Remus who had his eyes locked on your paints, making you smile.

His eyes flicked up to yours and he grinned back cheekily. “Where should I set up?”

“Over here, near the window.” He gestured over to a small nook. You hurried over and set your things down. Starting of course with a small tarp to set up your painting area without having to worry about ruining the flooring.

You set up two canvas this time and Remus helped you, confused at first before you set another pallet and paint brush down. “Alright, my student. Do you remember what I taught you?” You teased and he laughed, walking over to pick up the paint.

“You didn't have the bring this just for me.”

“Oh I know, how great am I, right?” You teased and sat down. Remus was still getting used to your deflective personality. Shrugging as he sat down and watched as you worked. Doing his best to copy your movements.

Meanwhile, Sirius and James were watching the scene curiously. Sirius couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the attention his boyfriend was giving this new girl, and James was unable to get over the fading color of your scarf. His jaw clenched a bit as he watched Lily walk over to introduce herself, also somehow roped in by your charm and even sitting down with you two to watch you paint.

James leaned back on the couch, arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold before him. The sight of you, animated and joyful as you explained your artistic process to Remus and Lily, stirred something in him. It wasn't just the way you wielded your paintbrush with such confidence; it was the warmth that radiated from you. You were a Slytherin, so obviously, but you held the room like a Gryffindor. You worked with the precision of a RavenClaw. You were patient and thoughtful with Remus and his questions, like a HufflePuff.

He didn't get it.

“Oi, Prongs, you look like you’ve just swallowed a lemon.” Sirius whispered, nudging James with his elbow. “What’s got you all broody?”

“Nothin.” James replied, too quickly, his eyes still fixed on you. “Just… watching.”

Sirius followed his eyes and slowly smirked to himself. “She's getting under your skin too, huh?”

James glanced at Sirius before his glare locked back on you as you instructed Lily to take your paintbrush and gestured to the canvas he couldn't see. “What's her deal? Why's she so.. smiley?”

The ‘as a Slytherin’ part came unspoken to both of the boys.

“You know, Remus says she knows Crouch.”

“Of course she does.” He muttered, eyes locked on the way you rolled up your sleeve and cuffed them. How you loosened your collar, and leaned down, showing the upper valley to your-

And suddenly the floor was a bit more interesting. He turned to look at Sirius who’s lip twitched as he watched Remus rub his thumb across his cheek and smudge some black paint on himself.

“... Merlin, he's bloody fit, ain't he?” Sirius muttered and James gave a loud exaggerated groan.

“I'm shocked Remus is entertaining her at all.” James finally muttered and sunk deeper into his sheet like a pouty child. Sirius nodded.

James watched with narrowed eyes as you laughed along with Remus and Lily, his annoyance bubbling up to the surface. Without really thinking it through, he pushed himself up from the couch, making his way over to where you were sitting with the paintbrushes and palettes laid out neatly.

He made it look casual, like he was just getting a better view, but as he stepped closer, his foot "accidentally" caught the jar of paint water perched near the edge of the table. It tipped, and time seemed to slow as the murky water splashed all over your leggings that just peaked form under your overalls, staining the fabric a dark, ugly color.

"Oh! Whoops, sorry 'bout that," James said, not quite managing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was just on the edge of sincere, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.

You glanced down at the mess, then up at James, and for a moment it seemed like the whole room held its breath. James just waiting for the snake to snap its jaws at him. But instead of getting angry, instead of snapping at him like he expected, you just smiled- a bright, genuine smile that made James's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"No worries, Potter.” You mused, brushing it off as if nothing had happened. "A bit of extra color never hurt anyone."

James blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. He muttered something that might have been an apology, but the way you smiled at him; completely unbothered- only made his irritation flare up more. He turned sharply on his heel, stalking back to the couch where Sirius was watching with an amused expression.

"Smooth, mate," Sirius drawled, arching an eyebrow.

"Shut it," James muttered, sinking back into his seat, his eyes flicking back to you as you continued painting like nothing had happened.

---

Over the next few days, James found himself increasingly irked by you. No matter what he did, you never seemed fazed. He "accidentally" knocked over your brushes during lunch one day, scattering them across the floor. You just laughed, picking them up without complaint. He charmed your canvas to keep sliding down whenever you set it up, but you only adjusted it each time, humming to yourself as if it were all just part of the process. He even tried to charm the colors in your palette to mix into a murky brown- but you simply shrugged, saying something about it being a "happy little accident" and turned it into a whole new painting.

Each time, you just smiled at him, that infuriatingly calm smile that made James feel like he was the one being childish. It was driving him mad, and Sirius, for one, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.

One morning, James was sitting in the Great Hall, absently poking at his breakfast, when he heard a determined set of footsteps approaching. He looked up just in time to see you standing over him, hands on your hips, your eyes sharp. If James was a smarter boy, he would of been able to see the faint red rims around your eye sockets and the twitch of your lip.

"Potter.” You huffed, your voice carrying just enough edge to catch the attention of the surrounding students. "Give it back."

James blinked, feigning innocence. "Give what back?"

"Don't play dumb.” You snapped, leaning over the table, your face inches from his. "My paintbrush. The one with the silver handle. I know you took it."

James opened his mouth to deny it, but the look in your eyes made him hesitate. There was something different today- a fire that hadn’t been there before. He was finally getting a reaction from you. He felt his resolve waver, and before he could stop himself, he found his hand reaching into his robes, to pull out the paintbrush in question. Only.. it wasn't there.

James blinked, his smirk faltering as he patted the pocket where he thought he’d stashed your paintbrush. It wasn’t there. A pang of unease settled in his chest as he searched through the other pockets of his robes, the smirk fading completely as he came up empty-handed.

“Are you kidding me?” You straightened, your eyes narrowing. “Potter, don’t play games right now. That brush… it’s important to me.”

There was a crack in your voice, something raw that caught James off guard. The confidence you always carried seemed to waver, your voice betraying a vulnerability that made James's stomach sink with guilt.

“I… I swear it was right here,” James muttered, now frantically checking every inch of his robes, his face growing paler with each empty pocket. The students around them had grown quiet, sensing the sudden seriousness of the situation.

Remus was glaring daggers into his very soul, even Sirius hid his face away in his hand.

You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your lips pressed together as you fought to maintain composure. You looked away from him, swallowing hard. “Potter, that was my mother’s. She gave it to me before…” You trailed off, your voice breaking slightly before you cleared your throat, trying to regain control.

James’s heart sank. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t thought. All he’d wanted was to rile you up, to see you react. He hadn’t meant for this.

“Alright,” He said quickly, standing up from the table. His voice was more earnest now, the usual cockiness gone. “I’ll help you find it. It must have fallen out somewhere. Let’s go check my dorm.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded stiffly, blinking rapidly as you turned on your heel and started walking, James trailing after you. The Great Hall was eerily quiet as they left, whispers following in their wake.

“She's too damn nice.” Remus muttered and Sirius sighed. About to say something, before he earned a glare from Remus too.

Lily tutted. “As if you weren't involved in anything he's done to her so far.”

~~~

The walk to the Gryffindor common room felt like it took forever, the silence between the two of you heavy. James kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, the way your jaw was clenched, the way you kept your eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.

When they reached the boys' dormitory, James immediately began tearing through his things, searching every nook and cranny. He pulled open drawers, checked under his bed, even rummaged through the pockets of his other robes. But the paintbrush was nowhere to be found.

He turned to you, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat. “I… I’m so sorry, {Y/N}, I can’t find it. Maybe it fell somewhere else, maybe-”

“Stop,” You cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes were glassy, tears welling up as you looked at him. The fight you’d been trying to keep inside seemed to crumble all at once, your shoulders sagging as you sank down onto the edge of his bed. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”

James stared at you, his heart aching at the sight of you like this. He’d never imagined he’d see you cry, and knowing he was the cause of it made him feel worse than he ever thought possible. Suddenly all those weeks of trying to get under your skin seemed more of a success, if this was the result of a truly damaging prank.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say, how to fix this. He knelt down in front of you, his voice gentle. “I’ll find it, I promise. I’ll look everywhere, I’ll…”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It’s not just a paintbrush, Potter. It was hers. It was all I had left of her.”

James’s chest tightened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your knee. “I’m so sorry. I… I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll find it. I swear I will.”

You looked down at his hand, then back at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. “Just… don’t,” You whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Potter.”

And with that, you stood up, wiping at your eyes as you turned and left the dormitory, leaving James there, staring after you, feeling more helpless than he ever had before.

~~~

James had never felt guilt like this. It gnawed at him, making his usual swagger feel empty. Over the next few days, he found himself constantly scanning the corridors, the classrooms, even the common rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you were always just out of reach. Each time he spotted you, you either turned and walked the other way or simply looked right through him as if he didn't exist.

It wasn't long before the whole school knew what had happened. How James Potter had lost something precious of yours, something irreplaceable. And unlike other times, where his mischief had earned him admiration or laughter, this time he received disapproving glares and whispers behind his back. How he hurt the only Slytherin everyone seemed to adore. Even Remus had given him the cold shoulder for a while, and Lily refused to talk to him outright.

One day, after Transfiguration, James caught sight of you slipping out of the classroom. He hurried to catch up, weaving through the crowd of students, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached you, he touched your arm gently.

“{Y/N}, please, just give me a second.”

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. There was a guardedness there that hadn’t been before, a wall that you had built between yourself and him. It hurt more than James could put into words.

Even then, you took time to notice; Cinnamon Brown in his eyes.

James Potter was used to rejection, Lily Evans ran him like it was a damned sport, but something about your usually positive beaming face turning to a frown at the sight of him wrecked him.

“What do you want, Potter?” You asked, your voice tired, as if dealing with him was just another chore.

He swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry. Really. I never meant for things to go this far. I’ve been looking for your brush, I swear it. I… I just want to make it up to you.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “There’s nothing you can do, alright? Just leave it, Potter.”

“But-”

“No,” You said firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You’ve done enough. I- I thought you were funny, that you could tell a good joke. Take one too. But this- no. No, just leave me be, Potter.”

James flinched at your words, the finality of them cutting deeper than he expected. He watched as you turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with every step.

~~~

James's heart sank deeper with each day that passed without a sign of the lost paintbrush. He had scoured the castle, enlisted the help of some of his housemates, and even tried asking around discreetly in other houses, but to no avail. It was as if the brush had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a growing rift between him and you.

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, James slumped on a couch, staring blankly at the fire crackling in the hearth. Sirius and Remus were there too, the latter still showing signs of his displeasure over the whole ordeal.

"I messed up, didn't I?" James murmured, not really expecting an answer.

"You did.” Remus deadpanned, not looking up from his book. "And you know it's not just about the brush. It's about how you've been treating her from the start."

Sirius, lounging with his back against the armrest, watched James closely. "You've been a right prat, Prongs- even I gave in after the first prank.” He remarked and avoided Remus’s slight glare. “You didn't just step on her toes, you danced the bloody Tango on them."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just wanted to get a rise out of her, see her react. But now... I can't stop thinking about how I made her feel. It's like I'm seeing myself for the first time and it's not a pretty picture."

"Sounds like you've got it bad," Sirius said with a smirk.

Remus closed his book, finally giving James his full attention, not exactly happy with what he was hearing. "It's not just guilt, James. It's empathy. You're finally understanding the impact of your actions on others."

James looked from Sirius to Remus, the realization slowly dawning on him. "It's not like I like her. She's just.. pretty. You know, I hate to see a pretty face so upset.” He scoffed and looked back to Sirius who arched his eyebrow and smirked wider as he realized his remark wasn't as playful as he intended.

“That right?” Sirius pushed and James huffed.

“That’s right.”

“When was the last time you bothered poor Evans?” Sirius challenged and Remus gave a low groan. Great, James just couldn't leave his friends alone.

He watched in a bit of sympathy as the dumb boys jaw slowly went limp and his eyes widened. “Merlin, I think I like her.” He mumbled in absolute dread. “Like really like her. And I've gone and ruined it before it could even start."

"Well, you can't undo what you've done, but you can start making amends," Remus advised, a softer tone replacing his earlier reprimand.

"How? She doesn’t even want to see me," James lamented.

"Give her time and show her you've changed.. And Merlin, don't do this just to win her over." Remus huffed.

James pondered, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire. "What if she never forgives me?"

"Then you’ll learn a valuable lesson in respect, won't you?" Remus said sternly. "You can't force forgiveness, James. All you can do is prove that you're better than your worst mistake."

“Does Merlin speak straight through you?” James muttered to Remus who swatted him with the book across his lap, before standing.

“I need new friends.” He mumbled as he walked away.

Sirius laughed and James pouted, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Pondering what would be the next best move when earning your forgiveness. He could live with never being with you, he always found the concept of lost love romantic.

What he couldn't do was live knowing he hurt you without even trying for your forgiveness.

~~~

For the next few weeks, Hogwarts transformed into an entirely different realm for James. Determined to right his wrongs, he threw himself into the role of a repentant suitor with the zeal of a true 70s romantic hero; one who was more often clumsy than charming.

One morning at breakfast, armed with an armful of apology notes penned in his best handwriting (which still looked suspiciously like chicken scratch), James tried to navigate the treacherous waters of your friends’ skepticism and Barty’s disdain. He handed out his notes, his voice tinged with hopeful earnestness that made a few of your friends stifle their giggles. “Could you- um, would you make sure {Y/N} gets these? They’re, well, important.” His cheeks flamed red as he stumbled over his words, but the sincerity in his eyes earned him a few nods. The stuttering and foolish boy even earning a smile from Pandora Rosier who assured him she'd ‘do her best.’

He was getting desperate, at every shred of attention you spared him. During potions class, James attempted to be your knight in shining armor, which, predictably, went about as well as a troll in a ballet shop. When he noticed you struggling to reach a vial of newt eyes on a high shelf, he leapt up, nearly knocking over his own cauldron in his eagerness to assist. “Allow me!”

But his overly enthusiastic grab sent the vial spinning into the air, only to crash down right next to Slughorn’s feet, splattering the hem of his robes with an unsightly goo.

“Sorry, Professor!” James winced, while you suppressed a snicker at the sheer absurdity of his gallantry. Graveling even as he was sentenced to detention.

Now, James knew that if he wanted to be truthful with you it started with his behaviors. Which, started with him being truly himself. So, much to Remus’s annoyance, James turned to grander gestures.

He managed to convince the house elves to let him borrow the kitchens for an evening to bake you a peace offering. Armed with sugar, flour, and an overabundance of misplaced confidence, he set about creating what he envisioned would be a culinary masterpiece. The result was a lopsided cake with icing that read, "Forgive me?" in wobbly letters. Only, half of the cake was callapsed, making it seem much more like a command of “give me”.

He presented it to you during dinner, his hands shaking slightly as he placed it on the table. The entire Great Hall watched in anticipation as you took a bite. The cake was oddly salty, but when your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, James felt a surge of pure elation. Maybe, just maybe, his efforts were thawing your icy regard.

He even tried serenading you one evening in the common room, guitar in hand- a skill he had hastily learned over the past week. His voice cracked more than once, and the guitar was slightly out of tune, but he sang with such heartfelt passion that even the portraits along the walls seemed to listen in. He crooned to you, mangling the melody as he went. You watched, half-amused and half-astonished, as this boy who’d never shown an interest in music before butchered the song with endearing enthusiasm. Everyone in your common room appalled.

Through it all, James's exploits became the talk of Hogwarts. Whispers followed him everywhere- some mocking, others admiring. Some even amused that his attention had switched from Lily Evans, to you after years of pining. But beneath the laughter and the rumors, a thread of respect grew among his peers. Here was James Potter, chasing redemption as doggedly as he’d once chased after mischief.

Late one night, as James sat by the fire reflecting on his recent life choices, Sirius plopped down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Prongs, you’re a bleeding heart wrapped in a jester’s cloak,” Sirius shook his head with a grin.

James laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I just need to know she forgives me, Padfoot. That I’ve made things right.”

“Well, mate, at the very least, you’ve given the whole school a good show,” Sirius chuckled. “And who knows? Maybe our little Slytherin is writing her own notes now; ‘How to Tame Your Marauder’ or something more poetic.”

James smiled, gazing into the flickering flames, hopeful and a bit wiser. In his quest to win your forgiveness, he’d stumbled across something unexpected. Something worth it. Not just you, but a desire- no, need- to better himself. Every time he saw you smile, made you laugh, roll your eyes, he wanted to be someone better. Someone who deserved to find themselves feeling the magic of being in love with a girl like {Y/N} {L/N}.

And maybe he'd even find himself worthy of her affection in return.

~~~

It all came to a head one day when he was scouring the school once again for your paintbrush. He had lost track of time in his mindless routine and forgotten about potions class. He was a half hour late, dashing into the classroom in a ruffled mess.

His breathless arrival didn’t go unnoticed, especially by you, who eyed him warily from your spot at the potions bench. Professor Slughorn eyed him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity.

“Mr. Potter, so kind of you to join us,” Slughorn boomed, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, it's almost as if you left to miss my instruction specifically.”

James grimaced but still tried to flash his playful smile that usually meant a clap back or snark. Instead, it was his form of a hesitant apology. “Sorry Professor-”

“I am not going over the instructions for Amortentia a third time today, is anyone willing to assist Mr. Potter?” Slughorn announced form the front of the class. There was a long moment of silence. Even with everyone slowly growing fond of him, no one was willing to drag down such an important project for the foolish boy.

Then, from across the room, your voice cut through the tension. "I can help him, Professor," you said, your voice calm but with an edge that didn’t entirely mask your reluctance. Everyone's heads turned towards you, including a visibly surprised James.

"Very well, {Y/N}. Please ensure Mr. Potter catches up without disrupting the rest of the class," Slughorn replied with a nod, turning back to his notes.

James approached your bench, a mix of gratitude and nervousness evident on his face. As he took the seat next to you, he whispered, "Thank you, I really mean it."

As James settled beside you at the potions bench, his hands fumbled slightly with the equipment. Slughorn, having returned to the front of the class, continued with his lecture, oblivious to the dramatic love story unfolding at the back.

James cleared his throat softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, {Y/N}, thanks for helping me out here. I know I've been... well, less than admirable lately."

You didn't look at him immediately, focusing instead on measuring out rose thorns with precision. "Just start by adding these to the cauldron slowly.” You instructed, handing him the thorns. "And stir- don't let it settle."

As he followed your instructions, his movements were careful, mirroring the cautious tone he was taking with you. After a moment, you finally met his gaze. "You've been trying hard, haven't you?" You muttered, not unkindly. Your eyes drifting over his focused expression and having to fight a smile.

James paused, the stirring rod in his hand still. "I have. I want to make things right, not just with you but... well, I've been thinking a lot about things I've done. I'm sorry, truly."

You watched him, the sincerity in his eyes striking a chord that made your heart ache. What had you done to the famous James Potter? His efforts over the past few weeks hadn’t gone unnoticed- it was quite entertaining. From the awkwardly presented cake to his out-of-tune serenades, his actions spoke far more than his words ever did. "I've noticed.” You whispered. "It's been hard to miss, really. Hogwarts hasn't been this entertaining in years."

A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've made a bit of a spectacle of myself."

"Just a bit.” You chuckled, the tension easing between you as the familiar rhythm of your banter found its footing again.

Encouraged by that sweet sound of your laugh and the pretty way your lips curled into a smile he just adored-, James continued, "If there’s any chance I could, you know, maybe start over? I’d understand if not but-"

"You're really laying it on thick with the humility, Potter. It’s a good look on you.” You teased gently, turning back to the potion, which was now bubbling contentedly. "Let's just take it one day at a time. But, yeah, we can start with being friends."

James let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, relief washing over him. "Friends, right. And if you ever want to throw more paint at me, just say when."

"Be careful, I might take you up on that.” You warned with a playful grin.

As the class progressed, you both fell into an easy rhythm, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a budding conversation. James was surprisingly adept once he focused, and you found yourself laughing more genuinely than you had in a while at his self-deprecating jokes and clumsy yet earnest attempts at potion-making.

By the end of the class, not only had you two successfully brewed a passable batch of Amortentia, which thankfully didn't smell like sweat and regret. James had shown you a different side of himself, one that was humbly trying to make amends and move forward. And as you packed up your supplies, sharing a light joke about the day's mishaps, it felt like a fresh start was truly possible.

James took the chance to smile back at Remus and Sirius. Sirius seemed delighted for him, and Remus seemed hesitant. But it was okay, because you hadn't just forgiven him. You were willing to be his friend.

~~~

James slowly realised that being your friend was likely one of the best feelings he's had in a while. He thought everyone you had met were your friends, considering how sweet and lovely you were with everyone.

But he was wrong.

There was a crazy side to you that only a small few saw. He learned it quickly, that you were sweet, kind, understanding- yes.

But you were an absolute gremlin when you wanted to be.

James discovered this one evening when you invited him to join you for a late-night painting session- a tradition you shared with a select few. Remus told him about them, but he never really understood just how amazing it felt to have your full attention like this. He had anticipated a serene evening, maybe learning a bit more about your magical painting techniques. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a chaotic spree of creativity that involved more prank-like antics than actual painting.

How in the bloody hell had he not known you properly?

As James entered the room, he was immediately hit by a flying glob of paint. It splattered across his face, dripping down his cheek. He stood, stunned for a moment, before hearing your laughter from behind an easel.

“Oh Potter, rule one. Never let your guard down.” You taunted and quickly hurried over to your canvas. Able to notice how the bright pink paint clung to his Jet Black hair.

Wiping the paint off with a sleeve, James couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a spark of challenge light up within him. "Oh, it’s on, {Y/N}." He responded, grabbing a palette loaded with vibrant colors.

What ensued was a wild mess of laughter, artistic ‘attacks,’ and impromptu paint duels that left both of you covered in every hue imaginable. Hindsight is 20/20- he shouldn't of worn his school robes. It was during these moments, dodging your playful ambushes and crafting hasty shields out of canvas boards, that James realized how comfortable he felt around you. Your laughter became a soundtrack he looked forward to, and your approving nods at his clumsy attempts at art warmed him more than he expected.

“It's humiliating how good you're getting at this.” You teased from your perch on a stool, James chuckled and playfully flipped you off.

“So much sass. And if I credited this to my teacher?”

“You should, I'm bloody good.” You laughed, wiping your nose before sneezing away some of the wet paint you forgot was on your hand.

That night became a normal accurance, it was like you two never fought. You two would find yourself laying on a tarp full of paint. You were laying on your back with your legs against the wall, and he was sitting with his back against said wall. Both of you looking off into dead space as you both talked about the most random and ridiculous things; from the controversial taste of pasties to the value and control one had over each other's fates.

“You know, everytime I come here, I remember why I've fallen for you.”

His words came out before he could stop himself. His jaw dropped at his own broken honesty, horrified that he had ruined the moment.

After a moment of silence, he looked down to see you smiling at the ceiling.

“Is that so?”

James swallowed thick and clenched his jaw a bit.

“Yeah.”

“That's awfully sweet of you.”

Your words were light, but they carried a weight that settled over James with an unexpected warmth. He watched you, admiring the serene expression on your face, highlighted by the ambient light that filtered through the scattered paint jars around you. He welcomed the twist of his gut like an old friend.

"I mean it, though," James continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze still fixed on you. "You make it easy to be myself, to be better. You've turned what started as a mess into something... pretty great."

“And isn't that just life?” You teased softly. “Sappy, messy, and yet an absolute masterpiece.”

“Is that what you truly believe?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just say what makes sense to me in the moment.”

“You're a pain.” He chuckled and looked down, seeing your smile had grown tenfold. Your nose scrunching up and the corners of your eyes wrinkling.

James couldn't resist the infectious energy of your smile. It pulled a laugh from deep within him, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the room- he was screwed. "You're brilliant, you know that? Absolutely infuriating, but brilliant."

You shifted to sit up, leaning against the wall next to him, paint smears marking both your faces and clothes. "I'll take that as a compliment, Potter. Coming from you, it means quite a lot."

And that was all. James hadn't even registered your soft rejection, just relieved you seemed to accept him regardless. He leaned his head on your shoulder and you flicked off some stray pain from his nose. He smiled, all teeth, before he got up and forced you to your feet. Pulling you into a dance that made you cackle like a proper witch. And that was enough. To see you so bloody happy was enough.

~~~

James learned to share you quickly. With Barty always on your heel or Pandora hovering listlessly at your side.

He even grew accustomed to seeing you draped in the easy camaraderie of Ravenclaws and your fellow Slytherins, your infectious laugh filling the spaces you all occupied together. It was during these times that James learned to appreciate you in a new light- not just as a friend or a fleeting crush, but as a vibrant part of his Hogwarts experience.

It wasn’t always easy, of course. The sting of his previous actions lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts, a reminder of the consequences of his thoughtlessness. Yet, each shared smile and each shared conversation with you wove a new thread of respect and affection into the fabric of his daily life.

As winter deepened and the snow began to blanket Hogwarts, bringing with it the festive buzz of the upcoming holiday season, James found himself more reflective. The common room was often aglow with the warm light of the fire, students gathered around in cozy clusters, and it was here that James found a new sense of belonging. Not just as a Marauder, but as a friend among a wider circle that included you.

One chilly evening, as the wind howled outside and the frost painted delicate patterns on the castle windows, James approached you with a tentative peace offering- a sketchbook. Its cover was a simple, deep blue, but inside, he had taken the time to fill the first page with a clumsy yet earnest attempt at a magical painting. It wasn’t animated like yours, but the colors were vibrant, a silent testament to his efforts to understand your world.

You accepted the sketchbook with a surprised chuckle, flipping through the blank pages before pausing at his painting. “This is for me?” You asked, a softness in your voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah,” James nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I thought… well, I thought you could use it to capture the winter. I know it’s not magical like yours, but-”

“It’s perfect, James,” You interrupted, a sincere smile breaking across your face. “Really. Thank you.”

That smile, that simple moment, seemed to close a chapter on the earlier tensions between you two.

“Of course, it's not free.”

“Id expect nothing less.” You teased and he chuckled.

“Quiddich. You never go to the games. All I ask, next week, come and cheer me on?” He offered and you couldn't up but laugh. “Are you asking for a lucky charm, Potter?”

”Not any Lucky charm. Mine.”

~~~

The day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived with the usual buzz of excitement and rivalry. The stands were packed, a sea of red and green as students cheered boisterously for their respective houses. James, his nerves on edge, had been secretly looking forward to seeing you in the crowd, especially after your promise to wear Gryffindor red. It was a small victory, but for him, it meant the world.

However, as he scanned the crowd from his broom high above, his heart sank a little. There you were, indeed wrapped in a bold, red scarf, but still cheering enthusiastically for Slytherin. The sight was confusing and, if he was honest with himself, a bit disappointing. Throughout the match, James tried to focus on the game, but his eyes inevitably kept drifting back to you. Each cheer for Slytherin felt like a playful taunt, and his competitive spirit took a hit each time.

Despite his best efforts, the game didn't go well for Gryffindor. Slytherin was sharp, coordinated, and relentless. When the Slytherin seeker caught the Snitch, sealing their victory, a wave of green cheers swept the stands. James landed his broom with a tight expression, his disappointment not just in the loss, but in the mixed signals you seemed to be sending.

The teams made their way back to the locker rooms amidst mixed reactions from the crowd. While his team consoled each other and talked about what went wrong, James couldn’t shake off his gloom. He avoided the usual post-game mingling, instead heading straight for the Gryffindor common room, his mood as dark as the clouds above.

As he slumped into an armchair by the fire, the common room mostly empty due to the ongoing celebrations outside, Remus and Sirius walked in. They took one look at him and exchanged a glance.

“Tough game, Prongs,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. And I guess the whole wearing-red thing didn’t mean what I thought it did,” James muttered, not meeting his friends' eyes.

Remus, ever the perceptive one, added softly, “Maybe there’s more to it, James. Did you ask her about it?”

Before James could respond, the portrait hole opened, and you stepped in, still wearing the red scarf, your expression a mix of concern and determination. Seeing you, Sirius and Remus excused themselves with knowing smiles, leaving the two of you alone.

James, as avoidant as ever and riddled with emotions he didn't want to confront, stood sharply and turned towards his dormitory. You gawked at him before furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance, a pout taking over your expression. You hurried after him.

“What's wrong, Jamie?”

Oh Merlin.

“I don't want to talk to you.” James hissed out and shoved his way into his room. You huffed and shoved the door open and walked in, closing the door behind yourself.

“You're not being very fair right now. I'm sorry I couldn't win the game for you but-”

“Do not make this about the win.”

“What is this about then, Jamie? I don't get it!”

“Stop calling me that.” He hissed and turned to face you, making you flinch.

“What's gotten into you?” You pushed cautiously and James scoffed.

“I can't do this! I don't get you!” He strained. “I tell you I've fallen for you and you brushed it off. I ask you to cheer for me and you show up in red, cheering for Slytherin!”

“James, it's my house.” You muttered softly and you saw his shoulders sag.

“Yeah but- I just figured-” He gave a long shaky sigh. Turning around and sitting on the bed, running his hands over his face.

You moved closer, taking a seat next to him on the bed, your own emotions swirling. Even then you were able to take notice. His teeth were strained by his jaw, yet they held the same Ballet White. His robes shimmering with Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch. His eyes that locked onto yours so vulnerable, giving that perfect Cinnamon Brown. Then the way his hair shagged over his Jet Black lochs. You couldn't look away. Not from all your favorite colors.

“James, I wore red because you asked me to. I thought it was a way to show you that... that I care. But I'm still a Slytherin, and my friends were down there on that field too. I was cheering for them, not against you."

James looked at you, the frustration softening in his eyes as he processed your words. "I know, I know. It's just... everything got mixed up in my head. Seeing you there, in red, but not for Gryffindor. It felt like you were there, but not really with me."

You took his hand gently, squeezing it. "I was there for you, James. Maybe not in the way you expected, but I was there because you matter to me. I cheered for Slytherin, but I wore your favorite color. Can't I support both?"

James let out a small laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly reasonable. I just... I guess I let the game get to me more than I should have."

"You're passionate, that's not a bad thing. But sometimes, you might see competition where there's just... affection." You offered him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood further.

He returned your smile, this time with more warmth. "Affection, huh? So, you admit there’s something?" James teased, trying to shift back to his usual playful demeanor.

"Maybe I do.” You teased back, nudging him lightly. "But don't let it go to your head. We still have a lot to figure out, starting with how to handle house rivalries during Quidditch matches."

James chuckled, his spirits visibly lifted. "We'll figure it out. As long as it means I get to see you in Gryffindor red, maybe I can even cheer for Slytherin once in a while."

"That’s a deal.” You agreed, feeling the gap between you closing as the misunderstanding cleared up.

Just then, the door burst open, and Sirius poked his head in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Are we all forgiven and friendly now? Because there’s a victory party for Slytherin, and I was hoping to steal your girl for a dance, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. "Only if you promise to bring her back, Padfoot."

You laughed, standing up and offering James a hand up. "Let’s go then. And maybe we can start a new tradition- dancing together, no matter who wins the match."

James took your hand, standing and pulling you into a quick, grateful hug. "Sounds like a perfect plan."

Before he could pull away fully, you stole a quick kiss against his cheek. He gave a startled huff, staring at you with wide eyes. Before he could scamper out any response, or even kiss you back, you pulled away and sent him a wink. Hurrying after a laughing Sirius as he took your arm like a gentleman would.

It took James two to three business days for his system to turn back on. “H-hey, wait!” He shouted after you, stumbling over himself and hitting his foot against the bed. Giving a small curse before he stumbled back after you, not hearing the soft clank of something falling from between his head board and the dresser.

Later that night, you two would find your mother's paintbrush, nestled between his bed posts and pillows.

What were you doing in James Potter’s bed so late?

Experiencing a masterpiece.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #james potter #sirius black #Remus Lupin #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #lily Evans

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acid-ixx · 1 month ago

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〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

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ashwhowrites · 2 months ago

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Hi, love your work and can’t wait to see what you do with this. Eddie/reader. Reader is Chrissy’s best friend since childhood. She’s not popular, is more of a nerd and is always overlooked, used or ignored for Chrissy. A school event is coming up and Eddie, who has always seen her, wants to ask her out. Reader gets confused and thinks he wants to ask Chrissy out and wants her help. She’s super insecure. Can Eddie show her his true intentions in time.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Not her, you

Y/N loved having Chrissy as her best friend. She was a sweet girl who'd do anything for Y/N and Y/N would do the same for her. The only struggle she faced was living in Chrissy's shadow.

Y/N wasn't in the same crowd as Chrissy and they were only best friends because they met as children. Chrissy got popular and Y/N wasn't meant to be. She was a nerd, she liked nerdy things and didn't find an interest in sports or clubs.

It was a common occurrence for people to use Y/N to get to Chrissy. Y/N was positive that every guy that has ever talked to her, was interested in getting to Chrissy. Which sucked and knocked Y/N's confidence down to hell but she wasn't going to dread it. Plus Y/N was too shy to have a boyfriend anyway, she'd never go for a guy like she liked. And well no guys liked her.

At least that's what she believes. Unknown to her, Eddie has spent the last two weeks trying to get himself to talk to her. A school carnival was coming up and he wanted to ask her to go with him. He knew he shouldn't be scared. She was nice and shy, it wasn't like she would scream in his face and laugh about it with her friends. But the thought of rejection held him back.

Before he knew it the carnival was happening tomorrow and tonight was his last chance. Chrissy was throwing a party and Eddie knew Y/N would be there. He hoped with liquid courage he could get the damn question out of his head and out his mouth.

Y/N grabbed more beers from the garage and set them on the table. The party was loud but luckily mostly everyone was outside. A few loners inside and a few couples who disappeared down the halls.

Y/N kept to herself during the parties. Chrissy often got busy with everyone but always checked in on her. Y/N wasn't much of a partier but she'd never say no to Chrissy.

"Y/N, right?"

Y/N jumped as a voice came from behind her. She held her hand over her chest and turned around. She smiled when she saw Eddie standing there, a red cup in his hand.

"Yes, and Eddie?" She asked to clarify, even though she knew exactly who he was. He was a pretty boy with long hair and a perfect smile. He nodded and she smiled.

"So awesome party, huh?" Eddie asked, cringing at how stupid he sounded. Y/N lightly laughed.

"Um yeah. Not really my scene but it's not horrible," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not well liked so parties aren't my thing," Eddie lightly laughed. He reached behind her to grab a beer. Y/N felt her body stiffen from having him so close to her.

"I wanted to ask you something about the carnival tomorrow," Eddie said, he took a deep breath. He prepared to say it all. Her eyes were waiting for him to continue and he got nervous. The alcohol was wearing off faster than he wanted. He opened his mouth and-

"Are you and Chrissy going?"

He wanted to smack himself

"We are, kinda like a girls' night out," she said with a smile

"Oh that's a bummer, I mean! Good for you guys. Friendship is important. I know it's kinda like a date and couple spot, you know? Maybe it can be a date" Eddie ranted. He blabbed when he was nervous and boy was he nervous.

"I mean I could probably talk to her and rearrange things," Y/N smiled. "If you were interested, I mean. We can have many other girl nights."

Eddie beamed happily, smiling, "Yeah, that would be great. I wrote down my number in hopes I would get this far."

Y/N laughed and accepted the piece of paper.

"It was nice talking to you," Y/N smiled. Eddie waited until she was out of sight before he pumped his fist in victory.

Y/N walked outside in search of Chrissy. She found the pretty blonde standing alone.

"Hey, got something for you," Y/N said, handing the paper over to her. Chrissy smiled and took the paper.

"What's this?" Chrissy asked as she read the number

"Eddie Munson's number. He wants to take you to the carnival on a date. I promise I'm cool with it." Y/N explained.

"Well, I'm not! You've had a crush on him for months. I'm not going on a date with him," Chrissy scoffed.

"Chris, he was so happy when I said I'd rearrange things. Who cares if I have a crush on him. If he likes you, my crush is pointless." Y/N shrugged

"It's not pointless. And I'm not going on this date."

The next morning Eddie was beaming with excitement. He was waiting on the phone for hours, waiting for her to call to talk about the details of the date.

When the phone rang, he was fast to answer it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Eddie, It's Chrissy,"

"Oh hi, what's up?" Eddie asked. He was confused as to why Chrissy would be calling him and how she got his number.

"I'm sorry but I can't go on a date with you tonight," Chrissy said, she felt horrible. She was never good at telling people no.

"Date? What date?" Eddie asked, the longer the conversation went on the more confused he became.

"At the carnival? Y/N gave me your number last night at the party," Chrissy explained

"Oh, um, I actually was trying to ask her out. My number was meant for her,"

"That's amazing!" Chrissy squealed, "Grab a pen, I'm giving you her number."

Y/N twirled in front of the mirror, terrified for her date.

"You don't have to be nervous! He likes you," Chrissy said as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"But what if doesn't once we are alone together? We've never truly talked. Maybe he'll hate my personality."

"He's going to love your personality! There is nothing to dislike about you,"

Y/N tried to believe her words and tried to boost her confidence as she heard a call pull up. She walked over to her window and saw Eddie walking towards her front door.

"Take a deep breath and have fun," Chrissy said before she sent Y/N out the door.

Y/N already was feeling comfortable around Eddie as they arrived at the carnival. She didn't dress up too much but still put a little effort into her appearance. With the amount of compliments Eddie gave her when she opened the door, she felt as if she did a good job.

They walked around the carnival, stopping at a few stands to play games.

"How are you so good at this?" Eddie laughed

He tossed the basketball and it smacked the rim and bounced at him. Y/N smiled as she easily made basket after basket.

"No idea, I don't even do sports," Y/N laughed

"WINNER WINNER!"

The loud alarm blared as the worker reached up and grabbed a small stuffed bear. She smiled as she grabbed it. Her smile grew bigger as she handed the bear to Eddie.

"Isn't the guy supposed to win a prize for the girl?" Eddie joked, but more than happy to take the bear with a smile

"Maybe if he was good at basketball," Y/N teased

Eddie laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Next stand, I'm creaming your ass."

After a few hours of winning prizes and spending most of their money, they made their way to the parking lot.

"Want any yet?" Eddie asked as he held his bucket of cotton candy

"Sure," Y/N said as they made it to his van. She went to reach for a piece when Eddie grabbed a piece and fed it to her. She blushed as she leaned in and ate the piece of cotton candy from his fingers.

She felt nervous at how close their faces were. She swallowed the candy but didn't move away. He stared into her eyes, loving the way the moon shined on her.

She gulped as he began to lean in. He closed his eyes and she followed his lead. They moved closer until their lips met. Y/N felt her stomach erupt in butterflies as his lips moved against hers. He moved his right hand to cup her face as his left held the candy.

She wasn't sure what to do but she moved her hands to lay flat on his stomach as she lost herself in the kiss. He tasted of cotton candy and his lips were soft.

She waited until he began to pull away before she did. She kept her hands on his stomach as she opened her eyes and met his brown ones.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Eddie smiled and walked around to open the door for her. She smiled and got into the van. Her fingers touched her lips softly as he closed the door and headed to the driver's side.

The ride was full of laughter and easy conversation. She couldn't remember why she was nervous in the first place. Everything with him felt right and they clicked well.

She felt a little bummed that the night was over as he pulled back into her driveway.

"I had a lot of fun. Thank you," she said. Her voice was so quiet that Eddie barely heard her.

"Thank you for saying yes," he said with a smile, turning to face her. She opened the door but before she got out, she leaned over and softly touched his chin. She slowly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It felt even better than the first one.

She pulled away leaving him wanting more.

"Goodnight, Eddie," she got out of the car and closed the door. Eddie was fast to get out of his van and follow her up to her door.

"Can we do this again, sometime?" He asked, she turned around to look at him.

"Absolutely"

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader

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flemingology · 2 months ago

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business casual ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia dresses up the ballon d'or

warnings: nothing, slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1.9K

a/n: wrote this in an hour or two. saw alexia's look and couldn't resist it lol. first piece for her! hope you enjoy :)

Ballon d'Or night. One of the most anticipated nights of the year. Especially for your girlfriend. Having won two of the awards herself, she was well acquainted with the prestige that came with the event.

Just like last year, though, the ceremony took place right in the middle of Alexia's international break. She'd cursed the people in charge for the ridiculous planning last year, but seemingly it hadn't gone any better this time around. Flying out from their national camp wasn't the most ideal situation, but Alexia thanked her lucky stars that the RFEF were quite loose around the whole ordeal – allowing her and her national teammates the time and space to fly over to Paris.

Despite her best efforts, Alexia knew she wasn't going to win it this year. She'd put her bets on Aitana or Caroline, who both had an incredibly year of football under their belt. The Spanish midfielder, who had still been struggling with niggles throughout the past season, wasn't tipped as one of the favorites for the award this year. Not that she minded, though. She'd won the award twice and was more than happy for her teammates to be showered in the praise that they deserved. All in all, Alexia always enjoyed her nights at the ceremony, winning an award or not.

Just like every year, though, the Spaniard wasn't planning on giving you any insight on what she was going to wear. Everybody knew that one of the big things about the Ballon d'Or – footballers and awards aside – was all about the stars rocking up the red carpet in quite the glamorous outfits. Alexia had tried to convince you a couple times to come with her to Paris, but you weren't the one for all the media attention. You much rather stayed on your couch back in Barcelona, watching the live stream like a hawk, attentively eyeing the arriving taxis to try and catch a glimpse of your girlfriend.

A quick glance at your watch told you the time was nearing 7, so you knew she had to be about done with the preparations of her look. You decided to send her a text.

To: Amor ❤️ "Go have a good time tonight, baby. Orgulloso de ti. I love you ❤️"

You knew how much Alexia adored it when you mixed your usual English with some Spanish, forever a sucker for you speaking her mother tongue. You'd gone out of your way to try and master the language, knowing how much it meant to her if you'd be able to communicate to the part of her family that didn't know the English language as well as she did. You hadn't anticipated a text back at all, but you were pleasantly surprised at the buzz of your phone a couple moments later.

From: Amor ❤️"Eres el mejor. Thinking about you. I'll call you later 😘"

A little over an hour had passed when Alexia finally emerged on the livestream. You were caught up with cooking dinner, your laptop stood on the counter behind you while you were prepping your vegetables. You turned around, planning to throw the diced tomatoes in a different bowl, but your actions got cut short when you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend on the screen.

"My God," you breathed out silently. Vegetables completely forgotten about, you quickly put your cutting board back down and turned your full attention towards your laptop. She was wearing a striped, charcoal-colored pair of trousers, combined with nothing but a suit vest that tied at her waist. The vest showed the perfect amount of cleavage and chest, leaving just enough to the imagination. She wasn't wearing loads of make-up, but it was visible, just as you knew she liked it. Her hair was perfectly slicked back into a bun, her ears adorning a pair of sparkling earrings that perfectly accentuated the simplicity of the look. She looked incredible. You weren't expecting anything less, but she never failed to take your breath away in moments like these.

You watched her pose for the cameras on the red carpet, accompanied by all her Barcelona teammates, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from her. Now it was your turn to scold the decision to hold the event during international break, mourning the opportunity for her to come home to you and you to admire her look in the flesh. Before long, the camera panned away from her and caught a bunch of new arrivals, which you took as your cue to try and continue your dinner preparations.

As much as you were distracted by her and her look, and she clouded your thoughts at any given moment, you managed to cook yourself a meal. The ceremony well underway by now, you plopped down on the couch and watched the rest. Barcelona were crowned as Team of the Year, Alexia receiving the award in name of her team. You decided to try your luck and send the Spaniard another text. You knew she didn't keep her phone on her during events like these, but maybe you'd get lucky and get a response from her within a couple hours when she was in her hotel room.

To: Amor ❤️ "Ale, you look amazing. You've outdone yourself. I'm so in love with you. Me dejas sin aliento cada vez."

As the night went on, the camera kept panning towards your girlfriend. As one of the biggest stars in the room, it was expected for her to have quite some time on air, but it was starting to have its toll on you. Your girlfriend looked incredible but here you were, at home, hours away from your lover. You wanted nothing more than to be there with her, to be able to see her after the ceremony and really show her how much you liked her outfit.

A dull ache started forming between your legs and you knew it was only going to get worse throughout the evening. Without the prospect of having your girlfriend around, you knew it was going to be a long night.

Before long, the ceremony ended and you decided to make your way upstairs. It was quite late already, the event stretching out into the late hours of the night, so you decided it would be best for you to try and get some rest before Alexia inevitably called you up deeper in the night.

You'd managed to get a couple hours of sleep before your body got abruptly woken by the shrill noice of Alexia's ringtone blaring through your bedroom. You had put your volume to the maximum, knowing you were quite the deep sleeper, and you were glad that it had worked. You palmed your nightstand with one eye open looking for your phone, nearly declining her call before you managed to get it with you on the mattress, accepting her call and putting her on speaker.

"Hola, amor," Alexia quipped, her voice still quite energetic despite the late hour she called at. You glanced at the clock on your night stand, reading 1:36am. "Hi, baby," you replied, a small smile creeping up your face upon hearing the voice of your girlfriend. "How are you?"

"Mhm, good. Thank you. How are you?" you heard rustling in the background, assuming she was getting into bed. "Good. A little tired, though", you didn't want to make Alexia feel bad but her response seemed like you did. "Lo siento, amor. Do you want me to let you sleep? I know it's late," you shook your head at that but quickly verbally disagreed, realizing she couldn't see you through the phone. "No, no. I've missed you and I'm glad I'm speaking to you."

"Did you watch?" a slight chuckle escaped your lips, Alexia's question almost felt like mockery. "Of course I did, Ale. You never let me know what you're going to wear beforehand, so I have to find out through the stream!"

You didn't have to see her face to know that she had a shit-eating grin on her face now. "Mhm, I guess you're right. What did you think?" you rolled your eyes as a slight smile tugged on the corner of your lips. "What did I think? I told you through text, no?" you decided you could tease her a little before giving her what she wanted.

You heard a faint groan on the other side of the call. "Si, you did."

"Kidding, bébé. You looked perfect, honestly. You know how much I love it when you wear a suit vest. It accentuates your chest perfectly," you finished, your mind already thinking back about how good your girlfriend looked in her outfit tonight. "I knew you'd like it. Nice surprise?" you thought about how the way she looked left a throbbing between your legs throughout the rest of the night. "Very nice surprise. Just a shame that I can't get to show you just how much I appreciated the way you looked tonight."

Alexia hummed, an amused lilt seeping through. "Anything specific on your mind?" you didn't know how to approach this, not knowing whether Alexia was feeling a change of mood at this time of the night. "Well, let's say that you had me thinking about all the things I would do to you if you'd let me take that suit off you," Alexia let out a deep breath. "Dios mio, amor. You know there's nothing I would've wanted more than to come home to you tonight and let you take it off me."

Alexia's words did nothing to soothe the aching between your legs, if anything it only spurred you on further. "Ale," you started, taking a deep breath trying to ground yourself. "You have to stop right now," you tried to sound deterministic. "Why?" she quipped back, clearly enjoying the way she was working you up. "Because I'm already worked up, and you're not here, so you can't do anything about it. If I want to be able to get some sleep later, you need to turn it down a little."

"Who says I can't help you?" Alexia's words were spoken softly, almost as if she was unsure about what she was proposing. You frowned before speaking up. "Hmm? What do you mean?" a couple moments passed before the Spaniard spoke again. "I don't know, maybe we could be on the phone while you,..." Alexia trailed off, but you remained silent, wanting her to voice what she wanted. "...while you take care of what I started."

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at the proposition she just made. "You want to talk me through it... over the phone?" you tried, wanting to make sure that the both of you were on the same page. "Sí, si quieres?"

"Yeah," you breathed out nervously, feeling the thrill of the newness of the situation. You and Alexia hadn't done anything like this before. You'd shared a couple pictures and videos with each other while the midfielder was at camp, trying to bridge the couple weeks that she was away, but you had never thought about phone sex. It wasn't something that had been brought up yet and you hadn't deemed it as something either of you two needed, the both of you more than satisfied with your sex life at was, but you couldn't deny the pang of arousal that shot towards your core every time you thought about Alexia talking you through your orgasm over the phone.

"Yeah, I want this." "Perfecto, corazón. Now spread your legs and let me make you feel good."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barcelona femini #fcb femeni #spain wnt

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pumpkin-cake · 4 months ago

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begging for ANYTHING fix it related for the most recent season !!!

five x reader and they are married?? it would be nice if the reader had a more relaxed job in comparison to five in the CIA (the reader used to also work for the commission but wanted a calm life)

like maybe working in a daycare or flower shop?

i’m honestly begging for anything sweet please if you’ve got the time !

THIS HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. YES, I WILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU <3 I ALSO HATE THE WAY THEY CHARACTERIZED FIVE IN THE NEW SEASON. This will be very domestic :3 And it's been a while since I've written Five, I hope he's not too out of character, let me know if you have any pointers :3

The door to your apartment creaks open and heavy footsteps enter, the jangling sounds of house keys hitting the ceramic bowl reaching your ears with a sigh following.

"Good evening, Jerome." You coo.

"I did not pick that name, quit calling me it." Five huffs as he shrugs off his suit jacket, entering the living room. He looked tired, but he was okay with that. He didn't want to settle for some repetitive job he'd be bored as hell at. Even if they gave him stupid aliases like Jerome.

"You could have at least asked. That's embarrassing, telling people your name is Jerome. What about...Ethan? Or even something that's close to Five. Like, Finn, or something." You answered with a chuckle, while Five crumpled on the couch next to you.

"There isn't any point. It's not like you need to go around calling me that name." He said, taking off his tie and laying it across the arm of the sofa. "Anyway, how was work?" He asked, taking off his brown Oxfords and laying them nearby but out of the main walkway. He reached over to the stack of papers on the coffee table and looked at the first page. "Jesus, this is the sloppiest handwriting I've ever seen."

"Ah yes, because children who still have shitty motor skills are going to be writing in perfect print. That's why they only have to write their names, not write full-fledged essays." You said sarcastically, plucking the piece of paper from his hands. You looked over the assignment your kindergarteners were given. The instructions were to count the different types of bugs on the paper. There were no more than 9 of each bug. 4 butterflies, 7 caterpillars, 1 beetle, 8 spiders.

"I was never that dumb." Five said a little snarkily, pointing to the answer spot that said there were only 5 caterpillars.

"Don't be such a prick." You huffed, getting out a blue pen. You didn't like to use red, too harsh. You circled each answer wrong, not making any corrections.

"How are you even meant to teach them this? It's basic counting." Five asked, sort of actually curious.

"We'll just go over it in class tomorrow. Everyone will count together."

"Then what's the point of the homework?"

You groaned. "We are not having this conversation anymore, old man." You pulled out a pack of stickers, putting one on each sheet of paper.

"You're just as old." He countered with a smirk, leaving you to roll your eyes and continue 'grading' the papers. He did shut up and drop the subject, letting his hand stray to your hand that wasn't busy grading papers. He wasn't ever one for physical affection in the past, but ever since getting to this place? He was more lenient. He was never hanging off of you, but his touches were gentler. Each contact of skin was a small way of saying 'I love you', because it was hard to say it out loud after years of isolation.

The biggest way of him saying he loved you was twisting the ring that nicely fit on your finger like he was doing right now. Like he was making sure you were aware of its presence and meaning.

You finished the papers in less than five minutes. You did not envy the fourth-grade teachers who had actual homework to grade. "Your dinner is in the fridge." You told him, taking his other hand and playing with the black band that adorned his ring finger.

"Not hungry." He said shortly, like he was offended you'd ever assume he wanted to do something aside from this. He wouldn't ever say that out loud, of course.

"It's sushi. Made by yours truly." You added, holding back a chuckle when he sucked in a deep breath, very torn between the options. It was weird, able to sit and think about something. He wasn't rushing home to eat and go to bed, he got to do domestic shit with you and fuck did he love it.

"..." Five stayed silent like a brooding teenager.

"I'll come with you." You reasoned, and he reluctantly sat up. You smiled and got up with him, the two of you traversing to the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and grabbed the small Tupperware of delicious looking sushi. You were not a fan of Commission cafeteria food, and you took pride in buying the best ingredients for you and your spouse. You were already grabbing him a pair of chopsticks, sitting with him at the kitchen island.

"...thanks." He said after eating a roll. He was stubborn, but he really did appreciate you taking the time to make more for him when he got home late. It was so nice to come home to a homemade meal. It reminded him of Grace.

"Of course, honey." You smiled, sitting in silence while he ate. He savored every moment. After being in the apocalypse for forty years, he really grew to appreciate the things he didn't have. He swore he would never take this life for granted.

He never questioned why, because the whole reason was sitting right next to him.

#x reader #gn!reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #fluff #aidan gallagher #umbrella academy season 4

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fixyourwritinghabits · 8 months ago

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How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

#writblr #AI Bullshit #The State of Things These Days

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dovveri · 3 months ago

Text

high fashion fashion

synopsis: you’re meeting with the top fashion designer in the country to get your measurements taken for haute couture: an exclusive, annual fashion magazine you had the luck to be chosen for

warnings: reader receiving, cunnilingus, fingering, strap-ons, swearing

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: momo part 2 here!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"miss minatozaki! the model is here to see you as requested!"

you shuffle around a little awkwardly as you stand behind the agent that had led you to the infamous fashion designer's lair. you were still a new name in the modelling industry so it came as a surprise when you booked one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country. naturally, that meant working with the best of the best, and minatozaki sana was the best of the best.

"come in!" a voice drifts out, it's high-pitched and honeyed, the kind of voice that lures people in and gets them to do whatever the speaker asks of them. you were cautious though, sana's reputation preceded her. tales of her perfectionism were not sparse, she was a difficult woman to please, and had been known to ruin careers with the shake of a head or the slight frown in her eyebrows.

the agent rushes you in, whispering about making sure you did whatever sana wanted you to do, and then taking their leave just as quick, terrified to be in the same room as the fashion designer of the century.

you wring your hands nervously, stepping forward and taking in your surroundings. it wasn't unlike any other studio you've been in. messy fabrics and half-completed outfits strewn over pages of designs and measurements, mannequins standing half-dressed and lifeless, and in the centre of it all, the mastermind of the methodical chaos you stood in, was minatozaki sana herself.

she tuts, making a note on the design she was currently working on, not having acknowledged your presence yet, so you stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to instruct you.

your eyes can't help but trace over her features while she works. it was only natural, you were a model, you learnt to have a sharp eye for the physical body, to be critical of yourself and others whether you were on the clock or not.

her face was perfect. she was wearing specs that perched neatly on a nose other models would pay for. her lips, although currently downturned in a frown as she perused her work, were set in a natural pout that accentuated her features, her eyes sharp and calculating behind the soft, round frame of her glasses. you could mistake her for the model for a big-brand eyewear company. your eyes glide down to her shoulder where her top slid down revealing pearly soft skin, and a sharp 90 degree angle, her collarbones protruding and proud. you're almost in disbelief at her beauty, how someone like her could've slipped under your radar, under everyone's radar. people knew her for the beauty she created, not the beauty she possessed.

you're so caught up in her you don't notice she's finally taken notice of you; quick, assertive eyes running over your own body, calculations and images of clothing pieces already forming in her head.

"y/n right?"

your eyes flick up to hers, blushing slightly at having been caught. you clear your throat, nodding, not trusting your voice to speak.

she puts down her pencil and steps out from the desk she was working behind, taking slow steps towards you. you were used to this, people staring at you, studying you. but under sana's gaze you felt like a baby deer again, like the first time you were scouted for your modelling agency. she circles you, humming here and there as she takes you in.

"i can see why mina chose you."

you cough awkwardly, "excuse me?"

"the editor. she handpicks the models for the annual haute couture magazine every year."

your eyes widen, she meant myoui mina. chief editor of the haute couture magazine. a limited fashion piece that only came out once a year and was revered by critics all across the country. the one you had the opportune luck to be selected for.

"r-right."

sana scoffs, "pretty face but can't speak. lucky you didn't go into acting."

you're a little taken aback at that, but you remind yourself this was characteristic of sana. this was in line with what you had heard. you would just have to grit your teeth and bear it, you could not afford to lose this opportunity.

"hmm. yes you'll do." she walks back to her work counter, heels clicking as she waves a hand dismissively.

"strip. everything. i'll take your measurements now and we can both get back to work."

you stutter, following after her, "d-don't you already have my measurements?"

she turns suddenly, raising an eyebrow as you almost crash into her. you realise she's a little shorter than you, though her presence made it seem she towered over you. "is there a problem?"

you blush, trying to create some distance between the two of you, "n-no ma'am! i just thought-"

"i like to take my own measurements. i don't trust the ones they sent me. after all..." she raises a hand, a manicured nail coming to trace your throat, from the middle of your neck to the tip of your chin. you hold your breath. "the notes didn't mention how devastatingly exquisite you are. i'll need to see if the rest of the... hardware matches that pretty face of yours." there's a dangerous glint in her eye, her lips curling up into a smirk as she watches your breath catch, then she's turning away and striding towards another work desk, leaving you tripping after yourself to follow her.

she quickly makes space on the counter, pushing aside sheets of drawings and pulling out a fresh new page devoid of any markings.

"well? are you shy or something? no one is allowed in here without my permission. we're alone darling don't worry." you can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, she doesn't need to turn away from her work for you to picture the smirk on her face.

you quickly rid yourself of your clothing, shivering a little in the air-conditioned workshop, reminding yourself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, you had been laid bare in front of beautiful women and men before, sana shouldn't be any different.

you hesitate when you reach your bra, but sana could smell your uncertainty.

"i said everything."

you gulped, undoing the clasp and sliding the straps off your shoulders, nipples hardening under the cool air of the room. you bend down to slide off your panties, stepping out of them carefully before coming back up, suddenly face to face with sana who's eyeing you with a hunger akin to the one of lioness. you turn to place your underwear with all your other clothes, but knowing sana was watching your every step lit a little fire in your lower stomach.

your toes clench on the cool tile of the workshop, you force yourself to take a breath before turning back to sana, and then letting her circle you again like her prey.

you almost jump when you feel her fingertip on your naked back, holding back sounds your mouth certainly shouldn't be making at work.

her finger slowly, slowly traces downwards, sana admires the smooth planes of your back, the sharp bones that jut out at your wingspan, the curve of your spine before pushing back out to your ass.

you don't even realise you're holding your breath until she pushes down slightly at the small of your back and you gasp.

then sana giggles. "cute."

her hand never leaves your body, she walks back around to face you, fingers tracing your arms, then your sides, squeezing teasingly at your hips.

"hmm... yes i can definitely work with this." her voice is lower, and you can't help but think she may be a little affected by you too.

she steps away again, grabbing a measuring tape, "you wouldn't mind doing a couple poses for me would you darling? i need to see which fabric would work best when you move around and sit or get into whatever other absurd positions momo might get you in when you take the photos."

you shake your head, irritated at the blush that was now definitely apparent on your cheeks. you were better than this, you took lessons on how to school your expression and bodily reactions for when you were forced into uncomfortable clothes and outfits.

sana nods towards a stool nearby, "just take a seat there, sit however's comfortable for now."

you follow her instructions almost robotically, wincing a little at the chill of the metal stool against the skin of your ass. you cross your legs, willing the arousal that was leisurely dripping out of you to stop before sana found out and fired you for being unprofessional.

she watches you wriggle around on the stool, trying to get comfortable with a smirk, treading forward when you're finally still. you try to look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze, but she cups your cheek lightly, forcing you to look up at her. she tilts your head from side to side, hums, then grabs the measuring tape and steps behind you, measuring your shoulder span.

"relax sweetheart, i can feel the tension in your muscles."

you let out a shaky breath, still refusing to speak.

"nervous?"

you shrug.

"you've done this before haven't you?"

you nod.

"are you not speaking because of the comment i made earlier? i didn't mean it y'know. it's not the first time i've rendered someone speechless before."

you gulp, unsure of the implications of her words, "r-right."

she giggles again, "almost thought i'd have to make you scream for me."

"w-what?!"

she hums, moving backwards again and ignoring your question, "lie down over there would you? on your front. if i know momo i know she loves her horizontal shots."

you shakily get up, moving to the mattress on the floor and laying down cautiously, feeling sana right on your heels.

it would be harder to hide your slick in this position, but you clenched your thighs together and did your best. the cool material of the sheets on the mattress brush across your already sensitive nipples in this state, and you fight the urge to let go and just go wild under sana's watchful gaze.

she hovers above you, noting down every twitch of your body, every arch, curve, bend. there's some rustling behind you but you keep focused on resisting your dirtier thoughts. that is until sana sits on top of your thighs.

you gasp at the feeling of her weight on top of you, right below your ass, "u-um-"

"i said to relax darling. i need to see how you'll feel when you're in this position." her excuses were getting sloppier.

"y-you do?"

"are you questioning me?"

"n-no! i'm sorry- please- um- please continue."

"good girl."

you feel your ears burning now as well, the blush having travelled across your cheeks and up. even you knew there was something other than fashion fitting going on here with that comment. but you still let her hands run over your back, even as they tease dangerously lower, down to your hips.

sana coughs, shuffling around, but her shuffling around was really her pushing her body up against your ass, essentially riding the back of your thighs. you can't help but release a choked-out moan, fingers digging into the skin of your forearms where you're resting your head, breaths coming in and out heavier.

she stops, smirking, then does it again, rocking forwards, eyes twinkling when you give her the exact same reaction, unable to control yourself.

"miss m-minatozaki-"

"just sana for you darling."

"... s-sana-"

"hmm?" she leans down, rocking forwards again, delighting in the moan you release, humming right next to your ear, her body laid almost completely on top of you.

"is this- is this still- are you still taking my measurements?"

she chuckles lowly, "what do you think?"

you whine, completely unsure what this devil of a woman wanted from you, "y-yes?"

"then why are you asking?" she giggles, finally letting you go, standing back up. "now, the couch please."

you inhale greedily, pushing yourself back up and wobbling over to the couch. your legs almost give out when you sit down, sinking into the material, and looking at anywhere but sana.

you're about to cross your legs again when she tuts, "ah ah. spread them."

your eyes widen, "b-but-!"

"but what? you already showed me a pose with your legs crossed, now i'll need to see one spread. surely you've seen it's a very classic pose? one of the outfits i'll have to design include pants and momo will definitely make you do this pose in them."

with nothing else to retort, you shyly spread your legs, the urge to cover yourself is overbearing. you wait for sana to say something, anything, prepared for your career to end here and now. you were so close to the big leagues too.

"run a hand through that pretty hair will you darling? elbow up."

you blink, doing as she says, dumbfounded as she steps closer, completely disregarding the obvious signs of lust at your core.

those hands come out again, one at your thigh, the other tracing down the tricep of the arm you have lifted above your head. with nowhere else to go, your arousal leaks outward, pussy drenched and needy as you hold your breath.

the hand that's at your thigh inches upwards, the one at your tricep downwards to cup your face again, thumb brushing over your lips that open just barely enough for her to fit her fingernail inside.

she can feel your shaky breaths on her thumb, can hear the whimper you let out when the hand at your thigh continues to trace up and down, closer and closer to your heat.

"s-sana..."

"yes darling?" her voice is husky, eyes lidded, lips open, whispering like she was sharing a secret even though no one else was around.

"i-i- i'm- i need-"

"what do you need?"

you gulp, fighting back against your better conscience, but the lust that's curling up inside your stomach wins out, "you. i need you."

she grins, "do you now?"

"yes please- sana please-"

"you're so cute when you beg darling. alright then. i'll entertain you." the hand that's at your thigh finally pushes forward, fingertips meeting drenched folds as you gasp in relief and desperation, hips pushing forward, trying to feel more of her.

"god you're so wet sweetheart. is this all for me?"

you're whimpering as she traces those practiced fingers of hers up and down your slit, just barely giving any pressure to your clit before dipping back down. "y-yes! all you all you-"

"well i have to be a good host and receive what you've given me don't i?"

she sinks down onto her knees, pulling your thighs towards her, taking off her specs and licking her lips devilishly as her eyes lock on her target.

your hands are about to move into her hair when she barks up at you, "no touching. you can touch yourself but you can't touch me."

you whine but obey, sliding your hands back up your stomach to grope at your chest needily, your nipples having been attention-starved since you took your bra off.

she grins, enjoying the view for a little before finally bringing her face closer. she blows on your puffy clit playfully, loving the way you squirm and whimper under her, before attaching her mouth to your pussy, sucking greedily.

"o-oh-!"

your hands grip your chest harder, wishing you could hold onto her head instead, but you have to settle for grinding down into her face, pushing against her grip at your hips while she eats you out, slurping loudly. the sounds are absurd, but your mind is too hazy to worry about being embarrassed anymore, not when your fingers are pinching and twisting your own nipples while you watch sana suck your clit into her mouth, her eyes locked on yours while she eats.

"g-god sana so good- so fucking good mmf- you- you- you're driving me insane god-"

sana flicks her tongue happily in response, one hand releasing your hip and coming down to play with your entrance. you clench around nothing, eager to take her in, and she obliges, pushing a finger in with your clit still in her mouth, curling it to hit the spot that only served to bring you closer to the edge.

"r-right there fuck- right there- i'm gonna- you're doing so good fuck-"

she starts pumping her finger in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your sex only become louder, an accompaniment to her suckling. you're flicking your fingers over your nipples, again and again, matching her pace, each stroke getting you closer and closer. then she adds in another finger, curling upwards, hooking into you, and you cry out, back arching, hips pushing into her face, shaking and trembling as you feel yourself fall over the edge.

sana continues to lick and nose at you while you come down, hands rubbing soothing motions into your hips and thighs. eventually, she slides back up, hand replacing yours over your chest and copping a feel for herself.

she's kissing your neck, chest, ears, all while you try and gain sense of yourself again. you turn your head with a pout, urging her to look at you. she smiles, knowing what you wanted without even asking, leaning in to kiss your pout away, your lips moving against one another as you hum at the taste of yourself on her lips,

she continues fondling your chest, rolling her fingers over nipples as you start to wriggle under her again, easily aroused.

she breaks away from your mouth with a smirk, "you're pretty when you cum."

you whine, burying your head in her neck.

"maybe i should tell mina and momo that. i think they'd get the best shots if you were mid orgasm."

"w-what?" your voice is shaky, still squiriming under her touch.

"hmm... you want another don't you? i've been working on something... special. how would you like to try it out for me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, detaching herself from you and walking to one of her work desks. you can only watch after her, still spread open and tingly all over as she rummages through a drawer. your eyes widen when she pulls out a dildo, mind and vision suddenly clearer as she smirks, tugging out a corresponding harness and slipping the dildo into it.

then she starts to strip.

she leaves her top on, only removing her bottoms before stepping into the harness, the patchwork dildo hanging from her hips, looking strangely like it belonged on her.

she giggles when she notices you staring, doing a little spin, the fake dick swinging around ridiculously. "you like? i was going for... cutesy and demure." she plops down next to you, tapping her thighs.

you swallow nervously, pushing yourself up and straddling her.

"you can touch now."

your hands that were awkwardly swinging by your side finally come up to rest on her shoulders.

"answer the question."

"y-yeah- i- um- it's cute."

she giggles again, "that's good. need to make sure something as cute as you gets filled up with something just as cute hmm? then you can make all those cute sounds for me too."

her hands are relentless, tugging you down into her lap, brushing your hair over your shoulder, running fingers down over sides. she's always got to have her hands on you.

you huff when she teases the strap along your slit, feeling yourself dripping already. you try and catch her eye, pouting again.

she rolls her eyes, "just ask me if you want to kiss."

"can you kiss me?"

"see that was so cute! that's a good girl." then she's pulling you into her, latching onto your lips.

the makeout session that proceeds has you grinding down into her without even realising, and you take a hint of pleasure at her returning the movement, her own hips starting to rut up into yours. she sucks your bottom lip into her mouth, swiping her tongue across it before letting it go, invading your mouth still with the faint taste of yourself. when you break away to gasp for air, she moves straight to your cheek, then down to your jaw, neck, collarbones, sucking marks along her way, hands coming up to play with your chest again.

she pushes your breasts upwards so her mouth can reach skin easier, sucking and kissing, careful not to leave marks on you, knowing your body was your instrument in this line of work.

you moan when you feel her lips wrap around a nipple, the warm cavern of her mouth sucking the little nub, her tongue lapping over it with glee.

you're unabashedly rocking against her now, loving the tingle that went up your spine with every pass of the strap on your clit, her mouth still attached to your chest while you held the back of her head, keeping her against you while you moaned and whined into her.

she switches nipples, cool air hitting the wet, exposed nub. you shiver under her despite her actions only heating your body up past a temperature you didn't know was possible.

"s-sana-"

she hums around your nipple, always so focused on her work, the vibrations go straight to your core.

"need you- n-now- please-"

your nipple pops free from her mouth, "i'm not stopping you." then she's back at your chest, sucking and kissing, addicted.

you groan, looking down between you and shakily aligning your entrance with her strap. it takes a few tries and you're almost crying in frustration and sana's not helping at all, completely preoccupied with your chest, before you finally sink down, moaning low and heavy as you feel her fill you up.

"fuuck-"

sana sucks at the patch of skin on your left breast just a little harder in response.

you push yourself back up using her shoulders, then drop back down, cursing as your core tingles at the sensation.

you repeat the process, eyes locked on the way she enters and exits you, her strap coated in your essence, the squelching sounds mix with your whines and groans.

"fuck- fuck- fuck-" you start riding her, swearing each time she fills you up, setting up a rhythm that has you dizzy with need. sana finally decides to break away to watch her masterpiece bounce in front of her. fading bite marks and patches of red skin sway as she moves her hands down to your hips, pushing you down harder with each entrance, bucking her own hips up to get the strap that much deeper.

"fuck!" your hands on her shoulders tighten, feeling her everywhere inside you, around you.

"review it for me sweetheart." she husks out, "if you saw it in a magazine would you buy it?"

"y-yes- fuck- w-wait no i don't- i don't know-"

"no?"

"you don't come with it- fuck-"

she chuckles, hands moving again to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh between her fingers, "let's say i do. then what?"

"y-yes- yes yes fuck- yes i would-"

"mhmm? i want a more detailed review than that darling. i need to know how to make improvements."

"f-fuck sana- it's so- you're fucking me so- so good- it's good it's good-"

"other than good?"

"g-god you're so- it's um- fuck- it's cute and- i like the colours- a-and shit jesus christ- it fills me up just right- and i'm gonna- fuck- i can't- it's gonna make me cum-!"

"why don't i give it a helping hand then hm?"

"yes! yes- please- please- god- fuck yes-"

she pushes herself up, pulling you back down, surprising you with the amount of strength she had hidden, then she's thrusting up into you roughly.

"uh- uh- fuck- uh-" you're moans are cut up with every thrust, she's experienced, like she is in everything she does, panting with effort while her hips work, her arms pulling you down with every thrust up, you can't even keep track of where she's entering you, moving so fast it was a blur. or maybe those were the tears building up as it gets almost too much, your desperation to cum for her, to cum all over her.

"f-fuck!" you scream out, clenching down around her, hips moving of their own accord, shaking and moaning, almost blacking out from pleasure.

your breaths are heavy as you come back down, still with sana's strap lodged inside you, sweaty hands unwrapping themselves from around her neck, slumping down and resting your entire weight on the fashion designer.

sana hums, brushing through your hair and your back, letting you catch your breath.

when you finally gain enough of your bearings, you grunt as you sit up, sliding the dildo out of yourself, cringing at the mess you've made between the two of you.

sana only giggles, bringing a finger down to trace the length of the dildo and then bringing it to her own mouth, sucking it and humming around the taste.

your stomach twinges again in arousal, but you whine, too sensitive to go again, knocking your forehead against sana's shoulder as you avoid looking at her.

she lets you rest there for a while, but eventually stands up, carrying the dildo off with her to clean off. when she comes back, she has your clothes and a damp towel for you to clean yourself up with.

"i have another appointment now. feel free to stay as long as you'd like, just don't touch any of the designs. i'll send the completed outfits for you to try once they're done." she's all business again, but before you let her turn on her heel and leave, you croak out.

"w-what about you?"

"what about me?" she raises an eyebrow.

you blush, covering yourself now that you have enough shame to be embarrassed. she pays you no mind, following your eyeline and looking down at herself. then she realises what you're asking.

she laughs brightly, "no sweetheart you don't need to take care of me. but if i ever need another... trial customer... i'll be sure to ask for you." she winks, and then she's off, heels clicking in the workshop and door closing behind her.

you sink down into the couch, still processing exactly what happened. all you knew was that everyone was right to be terrified of minatozaki sana. though your fear came with a side of thrill you're sure no one else could've warned you about.

#sana #minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana x reader #twice sana x reader #minatozaki sana x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana smut #twice smut #twice sana smut #minatozaki sana smut #dovveri

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xan-izme · 3 months ago

Text

Double life 13 (ATSV x reader x batfam)

summary: You can't get a break. Not even for a second

TW: Angst, mental health issues, cursing, hallucinations, mentions of death

Bruce was the world's greatest detective. And a father. So, he was bound to pick up on a few things. He had suspicions of you hiding something. But he assumed it was due to it being an effect of losing your mother.

But ever since Jason began to stay at the manor longer than a day or two(which was surprising) he began to notice small things. He began to notice how you two would often be together. Not as often as you were with Damian of course. But wherever you were Jason was there as well.

He assumed you two were just getting along. And he was happy about that. But he would catch you two giving each other small knowing looks. The two of you whispering to each other or giving each other signals.

Yes, everyone else in the house does this with each other as well. But the way you and Jason would do it was more like a secret. A secret only you two would have with each other. Maybe it was some inside joke or some odd bonding thing you two had.

Bruce tried not to pry into your life too much. Especially after the argument you two had.

But the more he sat and thought about the argument instead of sulking. Something he said to you ticked you off. Of course, his words got you pissed, but he has this, itching feeling that his words meant far more than you led on.

So, he put you in therapy. And might have bribed the therapist to install a nanny-cam so he can see and listen in on your sessions. . . yes not his most honorable moment. But that itching feeling just kept growing and growing.

So, every session you had. He was watching. And he was slowly seeing you in a more, brighter light. You would laugh as you crack up jokes. Your smile made him smile. The way you would play with some of the toy's Mrs. Dean had warmed his heart. (He might have bought a few dozen plushies to give to you soon)

You spoke about him. And you had no resentment. You even spoke about how you wanted to apologize to him. How you felt like you were in the wrong.

Bruce honestly felt like he didn't deserve you at this point. You were so kindhearted. You spoke about him and everyone else with so much love.

But don't think Bruce didn't pick up those small moments of hesitations. When Mrs. Dean would try and dig deeper into you in any emotional way involving just you. There would be this, small pause that felt like more than a minute. The look in your eyes. The same look he saw you with at that party with your mother's side of the family.

He knows that look far too well.

You hate yourself.

This realization. Kind of broke him a little. His little girl hates herself. Why didn't he see this sooner? he feels like a fool. He's trying to piece everything together. Why would you hate yourself. Your perfect. A little broken. But that just makes Bruce love you more.

As he's trying to piece things together. To understand fully of what was going on with you. There were always blank spots that he couldn't fill in. This was a puzzle. I not a hard one but not easy either. He was able to dig deeper in on you.

He went as far as to hacking into your phone. Yes. His overstepping it but he wasn't going into your messages or socials. Only your call history and photos. It was very sad to see most of your recent calls were to your mother's number, of course those calls were not answered.

Your photos were filled with family pictures and- odd. Pictures that seemed to be in an almost hidden file was filled with unfamiliar faces. He scans the faces through his system. But he found nothing. That, that was odd.

Tim walked into the Batcave, he wanted to report to Bruce and tell him he was going to be playing games with you tonight instead of going out on patrol. As he walked down the stairs. He hears what sounds like a recording of a woman talking.

He's brow arched up curiously as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Bruce doesn't seem to notice him yet.

"You don't seem to be the type to hold a grudge."

The voice of the woman who spoke just now was unfamiliar to Tim.

"Oh no. I hold grudges."

Another voice spoke. Younger. It sounded a lot like. . .

"If I fully give you my trust and loyalty. I expect it not to be broken or abused."

It was you. A recording of you speaking to someone. Why would Bruce be listening to this.

"Uh . . .Bruce?" Tim finally spoke up. Bruce turns around, looking a little like he was caught off guard. Too focused on listening to the recording. Tim walked closer looking confused.

"What are you-" Tim was cut off as your voice was heard once again.

"If I give my trust and loyalty to someone. I give them my heart."

Tim frowns. He's realizing what Bruce was listening to. "Is that- Are you spying on Y/n's therapy sessions?"

Bruce was quick to shut off the recording. Letting out a deep sigh.

"Weren't you the one who didn't want us to invade her privacy?" Tim was reasonable. You going to therapy is actually a good thing, because at least someone in their family was going to therapy.

But just to find out Bruce was spying on your sessions was just. . . disappointing.

"For a good reason." Bruces statement just angered Tim even more.

"Good reason? Bruce, she's a 16-year-old girl who's pouring her heart out to someone you paid to listen to her problems. If you were going to just going to do this. Talking to her would have been a better option." Tim crossed his arms with a deep frown.

"She won't talk to me Tim. . . she's hiding something." Bruce sighed as he looked back down at the recording.

"That doesn't mean you should be doing whatever this is!"

As Tim and Bruce argued, Dick came down with a box of pizza and a smile.

"Hey, I brought Pizza-" Dick cut himself off as he stumbled upon Tim and Bruce arguing.

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on here?" Dick walks up to the two with a slight nervous smile. Tim doesn't look all too happy.

"He's been spying on Y/n's therapy sessions!" Tim's words caused Dick's smile to slowly drop.

"Oh. . . oh Bruce that's not. . ."

Dick was trying so hard not to give Bruce a look of hard judgment. But in his attempt to do that his face forms cringe.

A school trip to a museum was giving you Daja'vu from your last field trip. Didn't go well due to the result of getting bitten by a spider and having long-lasting trauma from there on out.

You stared at a painting, a spider devouring a butterfly who was unfortunate enough to be caught in its web.

"Kind of a sad painting don't you think?" Someone spoke up.

You turn your head and see Jason. You don't seem surprised; you slowly turn back to the painting.

"Didn't think paint museums were your thing." You say as your eyes stayed trained on the spider eating the poor butterfly. Jason couldn't help but chuckle. "What do you think my thing is exactly?" He asks as he tilts his head while staring at the painting with you.

"Bird cage maybe. Isn't that where a bird like you should be?" You spoke almost mockingly. "Actually, I feel like that painting over there would be more of your taste." Your head jesters to a painting behind the two of you. Jason glanced back to see a painting of a bird being attacked by a black snake with green eyes.

What was painfully ironic about the painting, was that the bird was a robin.

". . ." That was a personal jab. Jason would usually get angry and curse someone out. But this was you, and he honestly understands your hate. Even when you say something cruel, he knows it's not aimed to him directly. But to yourself.

Jason stared back at the painting of the spider and butterfly. Then stared at you. You stared at the painting with, sympathy . . .?

No. Thats not it. Empathy maybe?

"The butterfly, do you feel bad for it?" His body facing you while his eyes stayed focus on your expression.

"It's the spider I pity."

Jason's brow raises from your words. "The spider?"

You stay silent for a moment.

"People hate the spider, for something it can't control. Kind of unfair if you ask me." Your stare didn't seem to be focused on the painting, seeming to be beyond that.

"Your weird" Jason mumbled. Not fully understanding what you were meaning.

Suddenly your spider senses spiked up. You were quick to grab Jason and pull him away causing you two to fall to the ground, right before a bomb was set off.

Jason was quick to get onto his feet

"Stay." Was all he said before running off. You got off the ground and scanned the area before running off to try and help others to get up and evacuate. Your spider senses were going crazy. People were screaming and the building was shaking.

you were so distracted you didn't notice something rolling to your feet. A smoke bomb. But the moment you noticed it, it was too late. Red smoke exploded into your face.

The sound of a ticking clock, the lights dimmed. You were in a chair, blinking a few times. Trying to process how you got here, you look up to see Mrs. Dean. Sitting on the chair across from you.

". . . Mrs. Dean?" Confusion was quick to take over you.

The air felt eerie, and oddly damp. You glanced around and see your in her office. You see Mrs. Dean talking. Her mouth moving but you heard nothing.

"I- I can't hear you-"

"Do you blame yourself?"

You stayed silent for a moment, Confused. You were getting this, unsettling feeling, causing you to grip the onto the chair you seem to not be able to get off from.

"What?" You spoke, almost in a whisper

"Well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a sort of guilt"

Your brows furrowed by Mrs. Deans statement.

"What situation. . .?"

Mrs. Dean doesn't answer. She freezes almost. No movement. Like she's been paused.

Your surroundings glitch.

And you're standing outside. In the rain, ruins around you. You couldn't process anything. Because you were staring down.

Starring down at a motionless body. The face. She doesn't have a face.

Where is her face. She's supposed to have a face, right? why doesn't she have a face? What is it supposed to look like?-

. . . who is this?

Your supposed to know who this is. But you don't. Why can't you remember? This isn't right. . . .

different faces glitch onto the woman. But none of them were right.

Why can't you remember?

what's wrong with you?

Why can't you remember?

Suddenly your body began to move. Your hands slowly move up to reveal blood. Your breathing increased, panic, dread. Utter dread.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Shit!" Jason struggled to hold you down. Bruce shouted for Dick to open the pod to get you out of this hallucinating state you were in due to the fear toxin. Your blood curdling screams echoed throughout the Batcave.

Your body thrashed as you screamed and cried. Your screaming was throwing Jason off. And it hurt. It hurt seeing you like this more than he would think. Bruce took hold of you and told Jason to grab a syringe to knock you out.

Bruce held onto you tight. You screamed out.

"Please! No- NO NO PLEASE NO!"

Jason ran back with the syringe and stuck it into your neck. You flinched, your head falling back as your eyelids slowly close.

"Mama . . ." You whispered, only audible for Jason and Bruce to hear. Giving the two men a few seconds of silence before Bruce quickly carried you to the pod.

--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__-

A/n: Yup, I'm back. Hope y'all are having a good school year for those in school. Hope y'all liked this one and feel free to give me any tips on making more unsettling seance (I just noticed I reached 1,007 followers. You guys going crazy with this)

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

#atsv x reader #miles morales #miguel o'hara #x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #damian wayne #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #angst #delusional #death mention tw #mental health #hallucinations tw #tim drake #jason todd #alfred pennyworth

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enkvyu · 1 year ago

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9:45am — gojo satoru ;

gojo’s giving you one of those looks again, the type of look that is typically followed by nothing good. there seems to be almost no thoughts behind his sleepy eyes as he blatantly stares at you from across the table, and you subconsciously shift at the attention.

though you were drowsy too—checking your watch you realise it was only 9:45am—his gaze wakes you up.

you shove your chopstick in your mouth and around your food, you say, “well? spit it out.”

assuming you didn’t mean the rice in his mouth, gojo swallows and clears his throat. “i know something that might surprise you.”

“oh, okay. what is it?”

“here's the thing though, i can’t tell you.”

you stare at him. “why did you bring it up then?”

“you told me to spit it out.”

“well, that was useless.”

you direct your interest to the sushi in front of you and put a piece of sashimi in your mouth. a few silent seconds pass and gojo is still looking at you, and still very obviously holding something back.

eventually, your curiosity overflows. "gojo, just tell me what it is."

"i just told you i can't."

"why not? is it really bad? is it something serious? who is it about?"

gojo hums in thought. "it's about you. and it's about me."

you raise an eyebrow at his statement. "what the fuck? you have to tell me now."

gojo picks up the last piece of sushi from the plate you were sharing, and pops it in his mouth without another thought. you bristle at the sight. "what kind of person would tell the person the thing is about, the thing? also i'm taking the last piece of sushi."

"what are you on about? also you can't say you're taking the last piece after you've already eaten it! you didn't even give me the chance to scissors-paper-rock it!"

"my bad, i'll make up for it and pay for the food this time around. and i'm not telling you the thing no matter how much you beg me."

"gojo, you can't fool me i know for a fact you didn't bring your wallet today. so like always, it'll be on me. by the way, i'm not begging. i'm demanding you tell me."

"demand all you like, i'm not telling you anything." gojo sneers. "the sushi's already in my mouth, there's nothing you can do about it anymore."

you slam your hand on the table and level him with a stare. "spit it out!"

"i'm not telling you the thing! how many times do i have to say that?"

"i meant the sushi." when you don't laugh after, he realises you're serious. "i was eyeing that piece the entire time. don't you know you have to leave the best bite until the end so you can finish your meal perfectly. that was supposed to be my perfect bite!"

gojo looks at you and swallows. he reaches over for his drink and after a long sip, sighs happily. "well, it's already gone." he says with a shit-eating grin.

you swear passionately at him and he raises an eyebrow.

"did you want it that bad? if you want, i can still give you a taste."

you scrunch your nose at him. "that sounds absolutely disgusting."

"what? how?"

"you offered to regurgitate the sushi?"

he makes a face similar to yours. "no, i meant like, a kiss."

"oh." your grimace deepens.

"good oh or bad oh?"

"what do you think, oh."

he studies your face. "bad oh."

"correct." you take a sip from your drink and sigh, albeit a little unhappily. "i can't believe you dragged me here at nine in the morning just to steal my perfect bite of sushi."

"it's just sushi." gojo says. he looks over at you from above the frames of his glasses, noting the slight pout on your lips and the adorable furrow between your brows. without thinking, he clears his throat. "but because i like you, i'll order you another roll if you want."

you freeze. "what?"

"i'll replace your perfect bite."

"no, the part before that."

gojo smiles but there's something jittery about it. he fusses over his glasses and makes every move to avoid your eye. "that was the thing i wasn't supposed to tell you. i like you. but i guess you really are as demanding as you say since i told you anyway."

"oh." you say.

"was that a good oh, or a bad oh?"

"it's a 'i'm trying to think' oh." and then, after a pause. "oh."

he inhales sharply. "a double oh, that doesn't sound good."

you blink at him in the uncomfortable silence.

looking down, you observe the slides you had roughly put on before heading out at gojo's request to get sushi first thing in the morning. you look at the large shirt you had on, something gojo had left behind in your dorm after a sleepover, and the pyjama pants that you weren't even sure were yours. you look at him again, and he's in a similar outfit to yours. "you're telling me this now?"

"that's why i told you i couldn't tell you! why did you make me say it?"

"you're saying this like i knew what you would say!"

"you kept telling me to spit it out, spit it out, well i did and i still can't win."

"well you, well i actually, well," you clap your hands together. "actually i do like you too gojo, so—"

"you do?"

the two of you stare at each other.

you breathe out. "yeah."

"okay." gojo nods. "okay, that's good to know."

you fidget with your chopsticks, twirling it between your fingers. "what now?"

"i didn't think this far."

"oh."

"i'm going to," gojo clears his throat when it cracks. "i'm going to order more sushi. that's what you wanted, right?"

you look at him. "yeah."

when he leaves, you stare at the wall in front of you.

"so like, did you guys forget we're also here?"

shoko sips at her milkshake, blatantly staring. at least getou has the tact to pretend to be on his phone. still, it’s impossible to hide his interest and his eyes flicker over to you. “i’m never going to agree to another ‘let’s go get food’ again.”

you open your mouth to say something and shoko patiently waits. unfortunately, the right words do not come to you and you use the opportunity to bring your straw to your mouth and take a sip from your drink instead.

"isn't there something you should be saying to us?" shoko presses, gesturing over to the counter where gojo was ordering.

you glance over too and spot gojo looking over his shoulder at you. something sparks between the two of you and you tear your eyes away to look at shoko and getou again.

"yeah." you say. "we're getting more sushi."

not proofread, i just started typing w the dialogue “spit it out” and this came about

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #shoko #getou #sashisu #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #sss trio #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #gojo fluff

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teeskzagain · 3 months ago

Text

» warnings: persistent!jeongin, light sex, voyerism, mentions of lee felix

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . prompt: just the tip?₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

seungmin ver.

felix ver. ~ part 2

» a/n: okay so this is way long than i meant for it to be...but still, enjoy!

"is yongbok still coming over?" you pick up your phone to check the time, watching the minutes tick by and still no sign of your friend.

jeongin rests idly on the basement couch next to you, eyes trained on the trashy movie you decided to put on, "i'm not sure. he said if his study group took too long, he probably wasn't gonna come."

you shake your head at that fact, nodding while turning back towards the television. you absolutely loved the movie that's playing, seeing as it's one of your all time favorites, and placed your full attention back onto it.

you were so focused on the film that not even the touch of a hand being placed onto your leg caused your gaze to falter. no, it wasn't until a somber voice mumbles softly into the air in which you broke your concentration.

"you're legs are so soft, y/n..." jeongin regards your skin with interest, his hand dragging slowly up and down.

confused by the sudden praise, you fleet your eyes towards your friend, about ready to question the compliment when he spews another.

"really. so soft and smooth, they're beautiful.”

“jeongin…” you’re tone is laced with confusion masked by a short smile, “what has gotten in to you?”

as you ask that, he proceeds to slump down further into the couch cushion, lazy eyes staring at the TV ahead but would curiously bounce between your leg then later to your face. his hand is still aimlessly stroking at your skin.

“y/n-ie,” his own sweet grin, the kind that causes his eyes to crinkle, spreads rapidly across, him almost looking boyish, and innocent, “can i put it in really quick?”

your eyes widen at the words. of course. now the pieces are coming together. his eyes sweeping over towards you every so often, the slouched position, and especially with how handsy he’s been. makes perfect sense, actually.

“jeongin, what the hell!” you whisper-shout, scared that one of his siblings would hear. it doesn’t matter if you two are hanging out in his basement living room, you wouldn’t put it past his younger brother to be eavesdropping.

but even as you throw out caution, jeongin continues to stare up at you with a tilted eyes, lust completely devouring them, “well, can i? it can be just the tip.”

your expression reeks of uneasiness. so, yes, you and jeongin are friends, and have been for quite some time now. recently though, however, your friendship has truly grown in terms of closeness. and by that you mean you two are now occasionally sleeping with each other. but, just as friends.

you glance back over your shoulder towards the staircase to see if anyone had been coming, “aren’t your parents home? and what about your brothers?”

“now you’re worried about them?” he raises an eyebrow, his brisk touches now turning into slight coercion of trying to get you to scoot closer towards him, “it hasn’t stopped us before.”

the loud shush you emit followed by your pointer finger silencing his mouth is enough to make anyone suspicious, but you didn’t care. normally you two would fool around in his closed off, private bedroom. never out in the open.

jeongin lolls his head to side and expels a soft sigh, then a tiny laugh, "you're so weird."

"i'm just trying to be careful." you deadpan with a glare as he twists his neck back towards you with the same lustful gaze.

his attention begins to wander from your face down to your throat, then works his way down from there. over your chest, and to your thighs, his mind starts to get cluttered with all too many thoughts, dragging his bottom lip into his mouth, "oh my......"

that baffles you, "are you serious right now?"

"please, just a quick one, y/n? i'm really not asking for much," he does a passive look to his crotch and even you can't deny the bulge pressing against his shorts, "like, you come over looking like that and expect me not to get a boner? seriously, how could you?"

his words make you shift in your seat, your own nervous habit of biting your lip coming into play. as strong as you're trying to be, you'd be a liar if you said you weren't starting to feel some type of way.

at the moment your face slips, jeongin knew he had you. he tugs harder on your leg, and with the last pull do you bring yourself closer. enough to turn slightly towards his lap.

the corners of his lips spring upright as he helps you up fully on to him, relieving a sigh at the instant contact of your covered core and his bulge, "there you go, just like that."

you move around to get comfortable, though with each adjustment and grazes, jeongin's breath quickens, you leaning to the side to speak closer to his ear, "you better be fast too, jeong. dinner's gonna be ready soon."

a hand of his comes around to grip your ass, steading your movements so he can take control, "mmmm."

with his free hand, he reaches down into his bottoms to whip out his cock, which is already standing tall and permeating slick. god, does he look good.

he scoots your shorts and underwear to the side, him already groaning at what's to come. your eyes squeeze shut from anticipation, and at the moment you feel him start to slip in, you let out a squeal.

"yah, you said it was gonna be just the tip." grunting, you attempt to hold back further noises, noting the fact that you're completely full, stretched wide with no space left. he starts to fuck himself in and out of you.

"yeah....." his eyelids buzz from taking his favorite pussy, "but i always forget how fucking good you always feel."

he thrusts a bit further and this time you can't help the shriek that emits from you. throwing your head up to the ceiling and widening your eyes, you allow yourself to succumb to the pleasure as he takes you whole.

but if only you had simply glanced down just a smidge. then, you would've seen a pair of peeping eyes staring deeply at you, hiding on the stairs, watching the lewd scene unfold.

there stood lee yongbok, mouth agape and shocked face at what was before his eyes. because if he had known any better, he had you in quite a similar position....

just...hours...before...this.

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morguecuts · 4 months ago

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Incase I’m Not Here

five hargreeves has a baby with fem!reader synopsis: five has saved the world from an apocalypse countless times. after creating a loving family of his own, his constant worry that the end will come again unfortunately became true. word count: 1.5k tags: five is a father, fluff, angst, death, a few sad moments authors note: this is one of my most beautiful, yet devastating pieces. i truly love the idea of five being a loving father :(

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱ the end of the world was an ongoing tragedy for many years, ruining the lives of billions over and over again, but especially the hargreeves. the umbrella academy, as they were called, spent endless months trying to prevent an apocalypse from occurring. they traveled from timeline to timeline, skipping around decades trying to save themselves and the remainder of earth.

when the timeline was assumed to be restored, the superhumans had agreed to go separate ways and live their lives. diego and lila created their own family, housing a new timeline version of lila’s birth parents. viktor moved all the way to canada, owning a bar and a gray cat named misty. luther was typically off the grid, except the occasional birthday post for him and all of his siblings. klaus and allison lived together, in a three story house with allison’s daughter claire.

five hargreeves traveled the world, worrying about the potential upcoming events that would force him and his siblings to reunite in tragedy. he tracked previous timelines, looking for artifacts that hint at a glitch in the system. after the first 5 years of silence, and seeming nothing pointing toward any timeline issues, he began to calm his nerves.

that’s when he met the mother of his child. she was the light that five never knew he was missing. she ignited a burnt flame deep inside his soul, rekindling the lost inspiration he held for things that were other than research. in addition, her beauty was unmatched to anyone he had ever seen, or met before. her long hair completely covered the back of her body, tracing the outline of her beautiful shape. her perfectly puzzled face made him swoon almost immediately. most importantly, the way that she loved him made him learn to love who he was inside, instead of who people wanted him to be.

their home was a perfect combination of their personalities. a matte black and white aesthetic, perfectly clean and chic, with a hint of victorian vampire. her feminine touch was visible in all the right places, creating a warm home for the two of them, and anyone else who entered. his headstrong worries of future destruction set up for typically annoying safety procedures, but she didn't mind it. the pair merged together quite beautifully, carbon copies of the other. if five didn’t know any better, which to be fair he actually did, then he would say they were lovers in every possible timeline.

five was used to living for himself, his siblings, and even the rest of the world. his purpose was always meant to save other people, live for them, protect them. however, now 5 years into the loving marriage with her, he had learned to live for someone who wasn’t superhuman.

he stood hovering over the clean white bassinet. the small beaded eyes glance up at him, an overwhelming amount of confusion falls over them before turning to love. her small nose scrunching at the sight of him. the few hairs brushed upon her head are slicked down away from her face. her small pursed lips release grumbles and whines at an alarming volume, desiring for the tall suited man to hold her.

“she isn’t going to crumble if you pick her up, five. you have to hold her eventually, she needs to know who her father is.” the child's mother cooed, leaning into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist lovingly. the man sighed into her touch, except it wasn't really there. the air behind him was cold and stiff. his body ached for her, a sense of comfort was quickly turned back into sadness.

“what if she doesn't like me?” he spoke into the rather empty room. “what if something triggers me to teleport and i hurt her? my only way of protecting her is loving her from a distance.” the water in his eyes glasses over the blue. he reeks of sorrow, insecurity, and fear.

“you are the one man designed to protect her, my love. don't let what happened in the past make you afraid of what's happening in the present. she’s going to need you, we both know i can't help you anymore. please just pick her up, five.” the voice echoes around him, his eyes narrowing down onto the now sleep filled child.

he carefully unbuttons the sleeves on his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and draping it onto the side of the crib. he rolls his white undershirt above his elbows, hyping himself up in the process. the small fragile girl rests on the pillowed surface, her tiny chest rising and falling. his hands carefully wrapping around her body, supporting her head while raising her close to him.

the small being is unlike anything he’s ever seen. tiny hands attached to tiny arms, short legs with the smallest feet. she’s unable to do anything without him. her entire life for the next few years depends on his actions. a small worried smile spreads across his face, admiring the girl leaning against his arms.

small eyes blink open tiredly, glaring around before landing on her fathers. pure love glistens with the hazel colors swimming around. she makes chirps and squirming noises, slightly frightening five in the process. he takes mental notes on all of her little features. definitely her mothers eyes and lips, but his nose. truly the perfect combination of the two lovebirds. tears form in his eyes when he sees her smile, a miniature yet exact replica that once belonged to her mother.

a faint knock taps upon the nursery door, the caretaker is chattering unknown words outside. theres a moment of silence before she enters the room, glancing at five with the baby cradled lovingly in his embrace. he turns around at the sound of her appearance, looking into her puzzled face. “there’s been a call for you, it's from your sister in law.” her eyes are firm and strong, holding his gaze causing him to pause for a moment.

“and what did she say?” he turns his back to her again, slowly rocking the baby back into her peaceful rest.

“a briefcase was found in new york this morning. i’m so sorry, but it’s starting, sir.” she holds her hands together in front of her body, head dipping into her chest.

“how long do we have?” five knows his constant worrying would eventually lead to this. he thought by spending endless hours hunting down glitches in the timeline, he could find a cause, find a solution, but nothing ever came until now.

“they don't know anything yet. it could be weeks, months, possibly even years. i’ve been told it's not severe, but that doesn't mean that it won't become so.” the sorrow in her voice runs deep, an unfortunate sigh escapes her lips.

his stillness is deafening, the room has a slight buzzing noise from the house's electricity, but otherwise is completely silent. the babe shifts in his arms, nuzzling into him for better warmth and comfort. it is at this exact moment that everything clicks into place. she is his new purpose, and she will be his future. if anything is to go wrong, he would sacrifice his life for her without a question. nothing will ever be able to cause harm to her as long as he is alive.

his mind races thinking of the possibilities, will she have powers like him? will she be as headstrong as him? will she be accurately able to save the world if he is no longer alive to do so himself? The caretaker takes a step backwards, beginning to leave the room before his voice breaks the silence. “i need parchment, as much as you can physically gather.” his words are cold, and demanding, nothing that he has ever been towards her before. “and pens as well, as many pens as you can find me. i have work i must do before it's too late.” he begins to lie the child back into her bassinet, gently wrapping her back into the warmth of the bed. “yes sir, is there anything else?” the caretaker steps towards the door once more, ready to step into motion as requested. five’s eyes scan over every inch of his beloved offspring, a protective concern washed over his face. “yes actually, the albums from the attic please. i want her to be able to recognize her family when things go south.” his comment is quieter, more personal and calm. the caretaker whisks away, leaving the man and his daughter alone once more.

“you will never be alone” a gentle hand brushes small hairs away and out of her face. rubbing her small, chubby cheeks before pulling back. “i will guide you through everything that i possibly know, you will not fail this world.” his feet step back from the white wooden crib, reaching for the black jacket that was hung upon it earlier that night. slipping into it before exiting the room, heading toward his office.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

#five x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five imagine #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #number five #number five x reader #tua season 4 #tua x reader #tua x you #five x you #the umbrella academy season 4 #five hargreaves x reader #tua five #five tua #umbrella academy #angst

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whitehotforeva · 5 months ago

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GREEDY – Anakin Skywalker

best!friend anakin x reader

your panties have been going missing, little did you know that your perverted best friend has been stealing them ♡

word count: 2,129

warnings: smut. oral (fem receiving) male masturbation. anakin is a needy perv for ur pussy 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: its literally four am n i've been up writing this filth. not proofread im still kinda new to this stuff/writing but i hope whoever reads this enjoys <3

You weren’t sure exactly when it started. Sure, you were never one to be exactly tidy, so it was pretty common for you to lose random tops around your room, or maybe a pair of underwear, but after the sixth pair went missing, you suspected something was up.

You couldn't exactly figure it out. Where the hell did they go? How did they disappear like that? You’d search all around the house, wondering if they’d been misplaced but no.

So when the seventh pair went missing after your best friend Anakin visited, you pressed your lips together as you pieced together the puzzle. Things always seemed to go missing after he’d leave.

Your face warmed at the idea. Surely not? Was it just your brain making things up? Because then that would mean that well...he liked you. I mean that's what it meant right? If a guy stole your underwear? A part of you wanted to giggle and squeal into your pillow. Despite the many years of friendship between you and Anakin, you couldn't deny that you had developed a crush on him. Who could blame you.

But the other half felt anxiety. What if there was a completely other reason they went missing? Something which had nothing to do with him at all? How could you even question it to him? Bring it up?

Hey Ani. You keeping my best underwear? Can I have it back please? At least the one with the little pink bow? And that lacy black pair? Oh and my white panties too. Oh and the four others please?

Fuck no. There were times where your body would radiate a nervous energy around him because you felt intimidated at how perfect he was.

Little do you know, it's what he loved about you. The way you’d quickly glance away after maintaining eye contact with him for a second too long, a blush growing on your cheeks. Or the way you’d tell him to shut up as a flirty remark left his lips, playfully hitting him despite dying on the inside over it because you felt you couldn't read into it. He had always been so charming. So composed and in control of his feelings.

So imagine the surprise and utter shock that filled your body when you decided to hang out at his house and found him desperately rutting his leaky cock into your black lacy panties.

It wasn't unusual for you guys to turn up unannounced at each other's house, so as you made your way through his house, treading upstairs carefully to sneak up and spook him, the last thing you expected was hearing a deep moan coming from his room.

Naturally, you had to see what that was about. Duh. But as you edged closer, you could hear a string of curse words leave his mouth. His door was slightly open, and you inhaled a sharp breath as you saw his long fingers clutching the pair that went missing around his cock.

Your eyes widened at the size. You didnt know what you expected, but you couldn’t help but gulp at his length. And his achy leaky tip that was thrusting against your pair of panties.

A soft gasp left your lips at the sight mixed with the familiar feeling of warmth that begin to pool in your lower half. Your eyes were so mesmerized on the way he jerked off his cock with your panties, you didnt even feel the cold blue stare that was fixed on you.

That was until his deep voice interrupted your staring.

“You gonna come help me angel? Or gonna stand there and stare?” He half groaned, an amused tone coating his voice as your eyes widened in horror at being caught, snapping up to his stormy orbs.

Your lips parted to speak as you took a step back, instantly glancing away as you raised your hands up. “I-I- Sorry- I didnt mean to uh. Sorry!” You stammered out, trying to look anywhere but there.

You barely even registered what he said.

“Don’t be rude. Come on in.” You weren't looking at his face, but you could imagine the arrogant smirk he’d usually wear painted on his lips, matching with his cocky tone. You hesitantly glanced at his face again and noticed the way his face glistened with sweat. He was shirtless and you couldn't help but let your eyes linger back down to his cock. Your mouth was open in shock again especially as you watched his hand envelop your panties around his cock and slide it up again, your eyes snapping back up to his as he let out a low chuckle at your expression, shamelessly stroking his cock.

“Th-those are mine”. You tried to speak firmly, trying to ignore the way his hand picked up the pace. You don't know what gave you the nerve to say that.

“Yeah? You gonna come and get them baby?”. His voice was airy as he almost whimpered the sentence out, biting down on his plump lip at the sight of you bewildered, watching you jerk his cock.

You blushed furiously, blinking a few times to snap yourself out of whatever was going on.

“Ani! W-what are you even doing right now?” You exclaimed, yet he didn't miss the way your legs squirmed around as you tried to get rid of that feeling.

You knew how to. There was only one way.

Suddenly, he sat up, his thick brows tensing in frustration as he huffed out and stood up slowly. You wanted to back away, and as he moved closer, you wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

You felt almost dizzy. There he was, practically naked, his hand clenching your panties tightly, his cock rock hard against his stomach as he stood in front of you. He leaned down to your ear, his lips grazing it as you shuddered.

“Doing what you should've been doing.” He spoke lowly, his large hands finding your waist before tugging down at your jeans.

Before you could even protest, he had them off and you were stepping out of them. You didn't know why you didn't stop or protest, but the heat in between your thighs decided to be your brains now.

“Ani.” You breathed out, your face red and chest shaky from the anticipation, and as you watched him slowly sink to his knees, you couldn't help but let a whimper leave your lips at the way his nose nuzzled against the damp spot your once white panties held.

He let out a groan at your scent, taking it in as he felt his cock leak even more.

His jerk off sessions would usually start with your used panties against his nose as he sniffed them, even tasted them.

It was the closest he could get to having a piece of you. But now you were here, and he could see your legs trembling gently from need and the way your clit was aching for attention. It was obvious by your leaky pussy that was ruining your panties.

A loud moan left your lips at the way his tongue licked over the cloth covering your most intimate parts. You couldn’t help but rest your fingers in his hair, and it was a good idea you did, because he began licking long strips down your clothed pussy that had you beginning to grip onto his curly locks.

“Please.” You couldn’t help but whimper out, needing to feel his tongue against your bare skin. He nuzzled his face against you, basking in your scent before chuckling against your pussy.

You felt yourself get even wetter.

“Please? That’s what I should be saying to you.” He groaned out, slowly pulling down your panties and relishing the sight of your glistening cunt. He couldn’t help but pump his cock again with his other free hand.

“Been wanting you so bad baby. Wanting to smell you. Taste you- fuck.”

Just as he pumped himself again, he dove his head in-between your legs and began to lap at your juices hungrily. Your eyes widened at the sudden stimulation as a loud high-pitched moan left your lips.

Thank God Shmi wasn't home.

Little whines escaped your lips as he devoured you, his fingers digging into your hips to stabilize you further. You were already trembling, and as he caught your clit and sucked at it tightly, you pulled at his hair roughly, feeling yourself go a little dizzy.

“Fuck- Ani!” You half sobbed out as pleasure shot through your body, and you found yourself grinding against his wet face for more. You could feel him grin against your pussy and watched how he had dropped your old pair of panties and yanked at the white pair he had just took off you, beginning to jerk his cock furiously with them.

His own moans vibrated against your pussy, adding to your pleasure as you felt a white hot heat flow through your veins.

He pulled away before nuzzling his nose against your clit, letting out a whimper.

“Fucking taste so good baby. Been so desperate stealing your panties. Needed your pussy. Just a taste.” He whined out to you desperately, his eyes looking up at you sending another electric jolt through your clit.

There your best friend was, desperately lapping at your pussy, admitting how perverted he had been.

“Please. Please!” He whined out, his tongue resuming licking at your wet folds. Sharp gasps left your lips as he begged for a taste of you. Begged for your cum. You felt hear the messy sounds his tongue against your soaked pussy was creating, but also the wet sound your soaked panties and his cock was making as you noticed the way his hips were desperately grinding upwards.

He was chasing after his own release as he begged to give you yours, whimpering incoherent things against your pussy as you felt your vision go blurry and a loud desperate squeal leaving your lips as the coil in your stomach snapped, and your orgasm crashed. Loud moans and gasps filled the air as your legs trembled against him, desperate to move away from the overstimulated feeling of him flattening his tongue against your clit.

The way you gripped onto his curls tighter and let your juices explode against his tongue had him letting out the filthiest sound you had ever heard as his cum spilled out of his hard cock and onto the white panties he was jerking off with.

As he shook from his own orgasm, he shook his face into your sensitive sopping folds, relishing in your extra squeals as you exclaimed out that it was too much for you. He continued his relentless attack, desperate for every drop of you and you couldn't help but let the tears that had pooled in your eyes out.

“Ani! Anakin! Can't- can't take it please” you begged out brokenly, your hips attempting to jerk away as you felt his fingers dig into your thighs, the light pain overloading your senses as a warm pleasure washed over you.

He slowly moved his face away, a dazed look in his eyes and a wide grin staring up at you with his glistening lips. You couldn't do anything but whimper as you felt your knees give out, but he gently lowered you to the floor on your knees. You trembled as you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his sweaty abs as you felt his hand on your back, rubbing it softly to calm you down.

Your eyes caught the sight of his cock and you couldn’t help but whine out at the sight of your panties stained with his cum. Your hand reached out to pull your panties away from his cock, hearing him hiss and gently tremble at the sensation. You looked up at him, then back down at the stained panties.

“Come on. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll buy you more.” He spoke out, laughing as you giggled with him, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

"You need to buy me eight more.”

He playfully scoffed, standing up as he grabbed your hips, pulling you up with him and guiding you onto his bed, pushing you down.

“Yeah?” He questioned, cockily raising a brow as he began to take your top off. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Anakin what are yo-mmfhh!”

Your eyes widened at the fact that Anakin had just shoved your cum stained panties into your mouth. The taste of his cum and your own juices sinking into your tongue as he wore yet again another amused smirk on his face.

He was disgusting, and you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll show you something that feels even better.”

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