#your mind teaches you how to listen in silence without allowing your heart to break you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waiting4inspiration · 2 years ago

Text

The Dragons' Keeper II (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You break the rules in order to find out who you really are and the freedom is amazing as Daemon takes you to Dragonstone.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of bastards, mentions of death, not much in this part, unedited so apologies for any mistakes

Word Count: 2.2k

Part 1 HERE II House of the Dragon Masterlist

The Rogue Prince is the first thing on your mind when you wake and you know he shouldn’t be. You know he shouldn’t be bothered with you but you also know that you are not the one to tell him that. Even if you tried to tell him, you know he wouldn’t listen to you. You feel you know all these things from what Caraxes revealed last night. You feel as if you know the Prince more than what has been said to you or what you have heard about him from whispers in the Dragon Keep.

As you lead Caraxes out of the Pit, keeping your eyes on his and a hand out on the tip of his snout. You know that if you have been asked to lead Caraxes out, it means that his rider wants to go for a flight. And you can feel the eyes of the Prince on you as you lead his dragon out. Looking over your shoulder, you see that you were right.

Daemon stares at you, watching you closely with every move you make, like you’re so certain of what your next move is while around his dragon. His mind recalls what Viserys told him about you and he wonders if you know those things. He wonders what you know besides how to control dragons, so it seems. You didn’t let on to know much when he followed you the previous night. Perhaps he could enlighten you.

When you see the prince walking straight towards you, you know that he has not given up on his personal mission to get to know you. His attention is on you, not on his dragon. You half wonder if he hasn’t come here and asked for his dragon knowing that you would be the one to bring him out just so that he could have a moment with you without having to venture deeper into the pit as he did before.

Quickly looking around at the other keepers and seeing that their attention is elsewhere, you move around Caraxes so that he blocks you from their view in case they look over and see you talking with the Prince. You could get into trouble for that. And Daemon knows that too.

“I thought you would come back, but I did not think you would be back so soon,” you say, talking in Valyrian, reminding Daemon that that is the only language you speak.

No one has bothered to teach you the common tongue and why would they when all they need you for is for the dragons.

“You knew I would come?” he asks, whispering as you do in the same dialect.

You hum, a small smile growing on your face as you look up at Caraxes. “From what your dragon has told me, you do not seem to be one to give up easily,” you say, a small laugh in your voice that makes Daemon smile in return.

Realizing that your hand still rests on the dragon and that you are standing in front of its rider, you quickly pull your hand away as your smile drops.

Daemon is quick to react, catching your hand before it drops and keeping it against the red scales of his dragon. Your gaze shoots up to him as he keeps his hand over yours, covering it completely. “He is not overly fond of people. Yet he allows you to touch him and he speaks to you? And you understand him somehow?” Your silence is more than enough of an answer for him. “What has he told you about me?”

Your eyes quickly move over his shoulder to ensure a keeper is not coming. “Everything. He told me of the fight in the Step Stones against the Crabfeeder. He is honored to be the mount of such a fierce fighter as yourself,” you say, earning a pleased hum from Caraxes, as if he is listening to your every word.

Daemon smiles, glancing up as his dragon as he gazes down at the two of you as in approval of you. “What does he saying now?” he asks, looking back down at you as he takes a small step forward.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and listen to the hum you can feel coming from Caraxes’s heart. “He wants to know if you had him brought out so you could ride him or just so that you could see me,” you say, moving with the dragon as he steps forward to hide you and his rider from a moving keeper.

It’s different knowing what the dragon is thinking in the current moment for Daemon. Often he has wondered what Caraxes thinks, not being able to find out in that current moment. It’s different with you around and he can only imagine how that strengthens a relationship between a person and a dragon.

“You spend all your time with dragons, but have you ridden one?” he asks, his hand leaving yours as he moves towards the saddle on his dragon.

“I am not allowed.”

Daemon scoffs, leaning slightly against his dragon as he smiles down at you. “Any child of a Targaryen lord should soar through the skies at least once.”

“And how do you know I am a Targaryen lord’s child?” you ask, laughing at him as you step forward. You think he is jesting because of the similar features of a Taragyen that you have. But when you see that he is serious, your smile drops and you step forward, thinking that he does know something about where you come from. “How do you know?”

If he knows something, you have a chance that he might actually tell you. No one else will tell you, but Daemon seems to have an inclination toward you.

Caraxes moves again, keeping you hidden from more Keepers as they move around the Pit. You feel thankful for that, resting a hand against his scales as a way to thank him for keeping you and his rider hidden so you both can talk.

“My brother is the king. I may have gotten him to tell me what he knows about you,” he says, your heart leaping in your chest when he says that. After all these years, here stands someone in front of you that can answer all the questions you have. “Fly with me and I will tell you.”

You really want to. You want to know what he has to say. But you can’t bear to think about the repercussions of flying upon a dragon. You take a step back, shaking your head as you swallow roughly. But Caraxes pushes you forward with his head, stopping you from leaving and giving you the impression that he wants you to fly with him.

Daemon takes your hand in his and pulls you towards him as he mounts the saddle. “I will protect you from them,” he whispers, pulling you up to sit in front of him on the saddle. And you can’t fight against him.

Your mind buzzes with excitement as you sit atop Caraxes and you don’t even hear the Keepers shouting at you. Caraxes doesn’t allow them to get near to him as he moves towards the entrance of the Pit, opening his wings to prepare to fly. Feeling Daemon’s arm wrap around your waist, your hand grips his forearm as Caraxes begins to rise off the ground.

Your heart hammers in your chest and your breath catches in your lungs. But as you rise into the clouds, the wind blowing through your hair and into your nose, you feel as if you don’t need to breathe. When you close your eyes for a minute, it is as if you can feel Caraxes’s wings as your own beating against the wind.

Daemon cannot see your face, but when he feels your hold on his forearm let up, he can tell that you are enjoying this flight.

He flies to Dragonstone where he knows there will be no one upset about what you have done, where he can have a private moment with you without the two of you trying to hide from prying eyes. You tense up again at the sight of unfamiliar land, and Daemon leans forward to whisper in your ear. “You are under my protection. I will not let anything happen to you. You have my word.”

You don’t doubt that Daemon will protect you. You feel safe in his presence even though you have only known him for a day. You feel the loyalty from Caraxes, but that comes from years of being around him in the Dragon Pit in King’s Landing.

Staring at the stone fortress in the distance after you land, you wonder how far from King’s Landing you are. It feels different being away from the place you basically grew up in, but it feels like freedom to you. It feels as if you have broken out of a prison cell. And the freedom feels like the fresh air you won’t forget soaring through the skies. It feels good to be out of the Pit.

Daemon watches you for a moment as you stand in the open, staring off in the distance, and he can see a change in your demeanor. Getting you out of King’s Landing was a good idea. Here, Daemon can see you flourishing.

Hearing him walking closer to you, you turn around to face him, showing that there is a big smile on your face. “What is this place?” you ask, briefly looking back at the fortress for a moment before looking back at the Prince.

“Dragonstone. It is where our Grandsires come before the fall of Old Valyria,” he says, but a confused look falls on your face at his words. It makes him smile when he remembers that you do not know of Targaryen history and he would be happy and proud to share it with you.

The mention of your shared Grandsires reminds you of the reason why you are here. “Who is my father?”

Daemon breathes out a small breath as he takes a step forward to you. “That I could not find out. But I was told that you were handed to King Jaehaerys when you were a babe as a bastard by a Targaryen lord. He decided that you should be raised in the Dragon Pit with the Keepers and that is where you were placed,” he explains, his voice soft as if still needing to whisper so no one hears his words. “I have some speculations as to who your father might be, but they would all be dead now.”

You take in his words, breathing out a shaky sigh as you run your hands over your face. “But why place me in the Pit to be raised among dragons?” you ask, the one question that has been burning in your mind ever since you were conscious of thinking.

“The old king must have seen something in you when you were a baby,” the prince speaks, trying to comfort you with a small smile. “Or would you have wished to live in Flea Bottom with the other bastard, fighting for scraps of food every day?”

You bite your tongue at the thought, thinking about whether or not you were shown mercy by the old King by being placed in the Dragon Pit. “I would have liked a friend that wasn’t a dragon,” you mutter, casting your eyes towards Caraxes for a moment. “Perhaps I would have felt less alone.”

Daemon follows your gaze towards his dragon and he thinks to himself how things would have been if he had paid more attention in the Dragon Pit. Perhaps he would have noticed you sooner then you wouldn’t have felt alone. “You are not alone anymore,” he mentions, drawing your attention back to him.

A smile returns to your face as you realize the meaning of his words. You breathe out a relieved sigh, your shoulders relaxing as you look around you once again. “I do not want to go back there,” you say, dreaming of living in peace and freedom, away from the confines of the pit and being out in the open for as long as you like.

To Daemon, it is as if he has opened the cage of a trapped bird and is seeing it fly for the first time. It is a beautiful sight to see as you walk a bit away from him, towards the castle of Dragonstone. “We need not go back. You can stay here for as long as you want. As my guest,” he states, walking up beside you to place a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“Are you the Lord of this place then?”

“It is my home away from King’s Landing,” he says, encouraging you forward.

As he stares down at you, watching your joyful glowing face take in the sights of Dragonstone, he thinks about the small lie he had told you about your father. Though he has said that whoever your father is might be dead, leading you to believe that it could be one of Jaehaerys’s sons, he did not tell you of the possibility that the current king, Viserys, could be your father too.

And Daemon has reason to believe that he is.

Requests for House of the Dragon are OPEN!

Add yourself to the Taglist HERE

Support me on Ko-fi HERE

#daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #hotd masterlist #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd daemon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon masterlist

344 notes · View notes

whorediaries-09 · 7 months ago

Text

reflect in this heart of mine

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, mentions of child abuse, substances. a/n- we're going so back on track with the angst after a couple more chapters 🥲

little train. series masterlist.

the taste of the cigarettes lingers upon your taste buds. you exhale out the smoke, watching it ascend into the night sky. it fuses with the wind, dancing with it, before evaporating all together. you lean towards the railing of the balcony, watching the cars pass by. the stars shine down upon you and sirius. he stands close, taking a puff from the cigarette that you'd passed to him.

he was standing closer to you. closer than you'd usually like. but in your imagination, he was still the fragile man who'd been freed from the unjust laws of the ministry a few days ago. in your imagination, he was still broken, who was trying to climb up each and every step towards freedom carefully.

'i don't know how you were so calm when harry came out. i hated how they treated him,' you said, breaking the serene silence. he laughs bitterly.

'neither do i, sweetheart,' he turns his head, handing you the the cigarette, 'perhaps, that's the work of my mother, you know, unconsciously teaching me to be rational during situations when i feel the need to lash out,'

you stare into his eyes. in them, you find a depth. in them you allow yourself to drown. it's as if he's a wounded hawk, crying quietly for the ones who left. it's hauntingly cold, when your lip quivers, when you try to speak. a lump forms in your throat, a strange warmth filling your body.

he doesn't urge you to speak. he allows you to stay silent. he lets the silence surround you into an escapable reflection of your body, soul and heart. it creeps into you, barricading with your ghosts. relentlessly, you find the words pouring back into your mind.

'i s'ppose so. i don't have great sympathy for parents who are complete assholes.' you say. its as if warm poisonous blood spreads throughout your throat. he moves closer to you. you smell the scent of petrol and his shampoo infused with the scent of burning tobacco. you tuck your lower lip underneath your teeth.

'why not?' he asks, after a painful silence. his hand nears your face, and for the first time in years, you flinch. he cradles your cheek, smoothening his thumb over your skin. you find yourself sinking into the warmth of the cold and calloused finger tips running over your skin.

'my parents were muggles. everything was fine...until it was not. when mcgonagall showed up at our doorstep on the evening of 25th August around 1976, everything changed. my parents showed their true colors...which weren't very pretty. in a span of few years, the insults they spewed towards the prejudice of our kind turned into physical abuse. my mom turned into a fanatic alcoholic, living on bottles of expensive booze and cigarettes. my dad turned into a cheater with hundreds of mistresses. money was low, and they couldn't afford to send me to hogwarts with the new books or uniforms. but that wasn't the issue. the issue was the only time they united was when it was to beat me. i had nowhere to go, no friends no extended family who could take me in. yet i left.'

sirius listens to you intently. for the first time, in your life yourself to be speaking your heart without being afraid, without falling apart into shackles.

but life seemed a little better when he lingered by your side, listening to you. it seemed you too, were no different than him. perhaps he was the one who was parallel on the other side.

finding courage fill yourself up, you graze your fingers with his. he clasps them, threading them into yours. he rubs little circles on the back of your hand. he smiles comfortingly.

'did you know what prongs used to do when we were sad? he used to play music and forced us all to dance,' he removes his hand from your cheek, putting it on the small of your back. he pulls you towards his body, putting your hand on his shoulder, 'perhaps he didn't know what would comfort us,' he flicks his wrist, turning on the record in the living room. 'but he tried his best. and it did comfort us,'

as the music grows, the beats falling into rhythm with your beats, you find the tears in your eyes fade away, the laughter from your mouth echoing down the hall as he swirled your body, pulling you back towards his body.

and perhaps, neither of you got enough love.

'you're a good cook,' you comment, tasting the pasta sirius had cooked for the both of you at your flat.

'i'm not,' he contradicts, 'you should've tried the food maa-uh james' mother made us,'

you weren't a person who cooked much. for what you made for your position, you could easily afford dinners and lunches everyday from little places around the city. while you did enjoy baking, cooking didn't come as of much peace within your patience.

'you're a good cook, accept it or not,' you say, swaying your fork in his direction. he chuckles, chugging down the glass of wine he'd poured for himself.

'i'm too attached to palak paneers and chapatis to care, honestly. she spoiled us rotten and gave us whatever we wanted. sometimes she'd make karela (bitter gourds)--uh what do you call 'em- bitter gourds yes, and we'd throw tantrums. if she was in a good mood, she'd make us a simple potato curry. but if she was in a bad mood, james would've been hit by a rolling pin-lightly of course.'

'maybe you should try making them,' you suggest, taking another bite of the pasta.

'maybe,' he said, pouring himself another glass of wine. silently, he slurped it down his throat. 'but i don't think i could ever fucking recreate the magic in her hands.'

'i'm sure nobody can recreate the magic of her hands. what i mean is, you should recreate the dishes in your way,' you elaborate. he smiles, leaning forward on the table.

'but i can't be the judging my own cooking now can i? i'd want someone who hasn't tasted maa's food,'

'i mean, i could do it,' you offer, chugging your glass of wine, 'another one please,' he smiles, pouring the wine into your glass.

'would you?'

'totally!'

'i'll be extra careful then, don't want you taking away my badge of 'good cook' now do i?' he grins. you chuckle.

'it's a verbal badge,'

'i don't care,'

you lick your lips, staring into his eyes. for the first time in years, you see the light of a young untainted man sitting in the dusky glow of your dim kitchen light. it's a serene silence that falls around you.

'you'll have to come by my house though. i have to go to office tomorrow and i'll be too tired to go back to your place,' you say. he nods, acknowledging your words.

'i will,' he says.

sirius was drunk. a glass of wine turned into too many, and for someone who used to have a high tolerance for alcohol-he's absolutely fucking wasted. he's slumped against your couch, trying to get up. but every time he tries to, the world spins and he falls right back down.

the television is background noise at this point, in this drunk haze he watches you slumped over paperwork spread on the table. he decides to not drink anymore, but rather focus on the way you hold your pen, on the way your hair is tied back into a mess to prevent the strands brushing your face when you work, on the way your reading glasses rest atop the bridge of your nose.

'you're so stunning, dove,' he whispers. in his mind the voice only reaches his ears, but you hear him all right. you jerk at the sudden compliment, blood rushing to your cheeks. you slide your glasses up to sit on your head.

'sorry?' you whisper back. he tries to get up, smiling dopily. wobbling on drunk feet, he walks towards you while you get up, walking forwards to catch him, warning him of a fall if he doesn't walk properly. he lifts up his finger, booping your nose as you wrap your hands around his waist, carrying him to your bedroom.

'i said you're so stunning, dove,' he whispers. you laugh, plopping him down on the bed.

'you're drunk.'

'i'm not,' he argues. he takes off his shoes, pulling his socks haphazardly. he unbuttons his shirt, falling down on the soft mattress. you laugh.

'yeah of course you're not drunk. you're not going home today. sleep here,' you instruct.

'you do enough talk, my little dove. why do you cry?' he slurs. the question catches you off guard. you stand still as he adjusts himself onto the pillow underneath his head. he catches your wrist, pulling you closer to the edge of your bed.

'stay?' he says. you nod. you walk around the bed, sitting beside him. you run your fingers into his hair. his slurred question echoes in your head. you felt your eyes droop.

perhaps there wasn't much difference within the both of you. perhaps both of you were broken souls, intertwining with each other to feel loved.

did you get enough love?

****************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders era #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #fanfiction #james & peter & remus & sirius

29 notes · View notes

gen0c1de · 1 year ago

Note

Cod Zombies Ask!

I haven't asked anyone for anything like this before and I haven't seen any of your work so sorry if I say somethings wrong! But could you do something like fluff(ish) for Ultimis Tank Dempsey and Ultimis Takeo Masaki?

(Ult Tankeo)

There is like a total of two works I've seen for them and neither of them were finished. It kind of breaks my heart 🥺

Absolutely! I know there isn't a lot of Cod Zombies stuff and it sucks!!

I wasn't super sure about what you wanted, and I don't like to make character ship stuff really... That's my fault for not explaining that though! I'm so sorry about that! I'm gonna make this more like a friendship fluff Headcanon... If you want something different please let me know so I can make another!

Sorry it isn't super long and its a bit all over the place... I hope you like it though... ^^'

TW: Bad writing-

Requests are open!

Ultimis! Tank Dempsey and Takeo Masaki Fluff(??) Headcanons

The Japanese Soldier always considered himself more intelligent, much like the German Doctor.

He originally planned to become acquainted with the man, but was turned down and thus distanced himself, becoming more warry of him.

Masaki and Nikolai have a shared hatred of one another.

However, he merely dislikes the blonde American Marine.

So, he began to stick more towards the Marine

Tank however, despises Richtofen, has mutual feelings towards the Russian, and likes the smart soldier from Japan.

So he didn't mind Takeo getting closer to him in a way.

They began to grow a bond in a way, searched one another out for support of any kind.

The pair would sit somewhere away from the other half of the four, but in a distance that kept them in their safe spot.

One would talk, the other would listen, allowing the other man to rant without wanting feedback.

There are times where one seeks advice or a conversation on the things that suck most about the apocalypses.

Like the lack of cooked food or a nice warm shower.

They eventually became decently good friends.

Not the loud type that would put everyone, including themselves, in danger.

But the type that would crack a joke or make a pun, push one another as they chuckled in silence.

On colder nights they would sleep side by side or back to back, to protect the other but also for some warmth and a bit of comfort, knowing there was someone who was actually there and not just four men fighting the undead.

Takeo tried to teach Dempsey how to use a sword.

Tried.

The Marine got bored and went on a rant about how guns are better and easier.

The blonde man tried to learn how to use chop sticks to impress his Japanese friend, granted it was with a couple twigs and attempting to pick up pebbles or leaves off the ground, but he tried nevertheless.

Takeo broke down once.

He was explaining to the blue eyed man how he felt he had dishonored his culture and his country.

How he had felt useless for not being able to stop this rampage of living dead.

Dempsey didn't know what to do in that situation, but he attempted to comfort him with a "hug"

It was awkward, but its the thought that counts... right?

#i tried im sorry #i know its bad lol #be honest #its shit #cod zombies #call of duty zombies #cod tank dempsey #tank dempsey #cod takeo masaki #cod takeo #cod dempsey #takeo masaki #call of duty takeo masaki #call of duty tank dempsey

7 notes · View notes

lyntherighteousleftist · 14 days ago

Text

Loving Someone Who Can’t Love You Back

There’s a unique kind of pain that comes with loving someone who will never love you back. It’s not the sharp, immediate sting of a breakup, nor is it the sadness of drifting apart. Instead, it’s a slow, quiet ache that settles into your bones, filling the spaces where hope once resided. It’s the silent realization that no matter how much of your heart you give, how many times you show up or hold on, they will never feel the same way.

Loving someone who can’t love you back is like standing in the rain, waiting for the storm to end, while knowing deep down that the sun won’t break through—not today, not for you. You wait anyway because there’s a part of you that believes, against all reason, that they’ll change their mind. It’s a strange hope, almost cruel in the way it keeps you tethered, fueling every little glance, every kind word, and every moment that seems to mean more to you than to them.

You try to convince yourself that you’re strong enough, that loving them in silence is enough. You find yourself giving everything you can just to feel close to them, to be a part of their world. You show up when they need help, listen when they need an ear, laugh when they need comfort. And when they go on their way, oblivious to the quiet turmoil in your heart, you smile and tell yourself that it’s okay, that it’s enough. But deep down, it isn’t. It never was.

The hardest part is the self-doubt that creeps in, whispering that if you were better, different, or more, maybe they’d see you. Maybe they’d feel something. It’s a suffocating feeling that erodes your self-worth bit by bit, leaving you questioning why you weren’t chosen, why your love wasn’t enough to change things. The truth is, their inability to love you back is not a reflection of your worth. It’s not about you not being enough; it’s about them not being able to give what you deserve.

Unrequited love teaches you about the resilience of your own heart. It shows you how deep your capacity for love is, even when it isn’t returned. It forces you to confront your desires and the need to be seen, to be chosen, to be loved. It makes you realize that loving someone, even when it’s painful, can be one of the bravest things a person can do. But bravery has its limits, and there comes a time when you have to choose yourself over the idea of them.

Letting go is hard. It’s an act that feels like defeat but is, in fact, a victory for your own heart. It’s choosing to walk away from a one-sided story and deciding that you deserve a love that meets you halfway. It’s about stepping back into your own life and allowing yourself to heal, to find joy, to dream of a future where you are loved not for what you give but simply for who you are.

As you take that step away, you begin to realize that the most powerful kind of love isn’t the one you had for them; it’s the love you learn to give to yourself. The kind that whispers gently that your worth was never tied to whether or not they could love you back. It was always there, waiting for you to see it. And one day, you’ll find someone who does too—someone who looks at you and knows, without a doubt, that loving you is the easiest thing they’ll ever do.

0 notes

pistolita-blog · 9 months ago

Text

We have to talk

They say I have to talk to you

Take the reigns of the situation

Be mad

Be angry

Part of me knows they are right

A part of me knows that I deserve more

That I deserve better

A part of me is angry

But even that part of me is sad

Why does it always have to be so hard?

Why do I always have to be hurt?

How do I even talk to you?

What am I supposed to say?

‘Cause deep in my heart I know what I want to ask

But my rational brain says that I can’t

And, at the end, who’s right?

‘Cause I also know that my brain often lies

However, I’ve never let my heart decide

When I tried to listen to him, things lead me this way

They lead me to this moment where “we had to talk”

And I still don’t know what to say

You said you left because I deserved someone whole

I told you I didn’t, ‘cause I wasn’t whole myself

However, now, while I’m freezing at the thought of talking to you, I see some truth

I see some truth in the wholeness you speak about ‘cause even if that wasn’t what you meant

I realized I don’t like halfs

I don’t do half

That’s why I hurt

That’s why I don’t let people in

That’s why a part of me keeps saying I shouldn’t have let you in

Because once I make you a part of my life, you’ll be there forever

You’ll be in my heart

In the corner of my mind

You’ll be there at the kitchen kissing me

You’ll be there, in my bed, smiling at me

You’ll be there, combing my hair, saying you’re there with me

If I’ve never let you in, I’d be free to roam at my place and not feel pain

To spend the afternoon at my house leisurely

Without those intrusive thoughts of how much I need you where here

Of how, a few months ago, you would be here

Is true it wasn’t always roses

You probably don’t know but you always freaked me out

You freaked me out when things were ok ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t stay

You freaked me out when you were away ‘cause “see, that’s what I said”

After all, why would anyone stay?

How could anyone love someone so afraid?

It was a battle then and it’s still a battle now

To understand that it was your choice to leave

And it isn’t necessarily my fault

My therapist says I should stop looking for those answers

She says they might no even exist

A part of me wishes I could ask that to you

But it’s been two months

You kept your distance

My note unanswered

Your silence is your answer:

“I don’t want your love”

And I’ll probably never know the reason

What breaks me is that I tried to love you even though I didn’t know how

I allowed myself to think it would work out

I allowed myself to think “hey, she might really like me”

“Maybe I could have a peaceful love”

“Maybe I deserve some love”

And the worst part is that I liked it

Me, who always believed I didn’t need it

Now here I am missing you

Left with memories and questions and longings

But you’re not coming back

Are you?

Part of me hopes you do

Prays you do

‘cause honestly, I can’t picture this feelings with anyone else but you

On the side, people are telling me to forget you

That you’re not good enough for me

That you’re irresponsable

That you’re a player

They might be right

After all, you’re still walking with her by your side

You said so yourself you guys were never “not together”

And I remember seeing you wear a necklace with her initials before where broke up

I remember lying to myself that maybe I saw things wrong

What is going on?

Because at the same time I wonder if it was all a lie

Why did it felt so real?

Why did it felt so true?

What’s the point of deceiving so many people into believing that what you felt for me was real?

Anyways,

All of those things will remain in my head

They’ll remain in my heart

And I hope someday they won’t keep me awake at night

Now we have to talk and the only thing I can ask about is that Saturday

A week ago

When you came by my house and suddenly it was as if nothing happened

You were glued to me like you never left

Asked me to blow your eye and, damn, our faces were so close

Decided to teach me how to ride a bike

I wonder if you remember that

You had promised to teach me

When we were still together

On that first night you slept over

And both of us were happily nervous

But nothing breaked me more then that back hug

Out of nowhere

Away from home, away from the place were WE existed

In front of people who never knew US

That hug that you said to ours friends “it was just a hug”

But it wasn’t

You know it wasn’t

Why did you do that?

I could close my eyes to all the rest

Pretend it was a dream, try to overlook

But not that hug

Not your head on my shoulders

And your arms around my waist

We weren’t even talking

Still you crossed the way to hold me in your arms

And I felt lost

I felt lost, and confused, and sad because I’m trying to move on

I’m trying to let go without giving in to all those thoughts that say

“Everything is my fault”

“You weren’t enough”

“She chose someone better”

“My broken love wasn’t worth it”

Days of grieving and fighting myself just for you to destroy it in a less than a minute hug

It’s been a little more than a week now

Maybe I’ve lost my timing

Maybe you’ll say it’s all in my head

After all, it was only on that day

I’m afraid

I know I don’t deserve to be confused

I don’t want to be confused

But I also don’t want to let you go

Even though I know I should

Even though I have to

Loking backwards, it has been like this all the time between us

I always let you take the reings

I always give you the last word

Because I know you’ll runaway

I know you’ll evade me

And so the illusion can go on

Deep down I know that when I take the reigns

It will be to lead thigns to an end

An end where there’s no us

And I’m afraid of that

I’ve spent half a year trying to let go of my platonic feelings for you

I’ve failed

Will I ever be able to let go of real feelings then?

I know that if we talk my anxiety will blame myself for the outcome

The funny thing is that all the questionings I see my anxiety coming up with

Are about you

About how I made you feel

How you might decide to stay away from our friends

It’s ridiculous

I realize how dangerous those toughts are

I’m hurting and still what I care about is how to make things least torturous to you

I’m a mess

But anyways

We still have to talk

And I don’t know what to say to you

0 notes

malereader-inserts · 4 years ago

Text

You’re My Dad (Boogie Woogie)

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker & Male!Reader Summary: You are my dad! You’re my dad (boogie woogie woogie) Word Count: 1,507 Request: hello! how are you? can i request a platonic peter parker x male reader where reader likes to take care of peter, like cook him meals, give him snacks when he's studying or just give him snacks when he sees peter lounging. and maybe reader and tony are dating A/n: You sent a hefty request, hopefully I got everything in - I really hope that your cousin will enjoy this though!

Peter Parker was no stranger to death.

His parents were killed when he was a young boy and his uncle was shot when he was only a teenager. He only had his Aunt May until he didn’t. She was driving back from work and got in an unfortunate accident.

Peter Parker was no stranger to death, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have a family.

Tony and you took him when you heard about the accident. Peter was still a kid, he’s still a teenager and you wouldn’t stand for him to go to foster care. You have known Peter since Tony asked him to join him in Germany. How Tony asked if Peter if he wanted to intern under him.

After all, you were Tony’s boyfriend for quite a while so when Peter slept over at Tony’s house, you were there. You would cook meals for your two science boys and remind them to take a break from their long science experience. Peter saw you and Tony as father figures, the men he really looked up after his Uncle Ben had passed away.

Tony didn’t have the greatest childhood, he vowed to himself and you if you happen to adopt that he will be the best father any child could as for and you’ve seen him pick up calls from a lovely boy called Harley, which you have met a few times, and will always drop anything to have a conversation. You saw how Tony acted with Peter, to see pride and joy, you couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend.

You had a great childhood, you grew up with loving parents and loving yet bratty siblings. Your childhood wasn’t quiet and always fun - your parents valued making memories with their children, so your parents took you and your siblings to sporting events, festivals (age-appropriate), holidays. They were strict, but you could recall how they let you sleepover with friends and bring friends over, you can remember how they let you go to concerts with your friends and/or siblings.

You kept that family love in your heart and Peter really felt it.

Peter wasn’t much of a sports person, but when he was in the presence of you and Tony, he doesn’t mind much.

“Listen, kid,” You say, ruffling his hair, “You’re part of the Avenger family and you’re a superhero with wicked abilities - you know for the fact that Rogers and Romanov will not go easy on you in training.”

“He’s right,” Tony calls from behind, not looking up from his work as Peter groans.

“But, you could totally avoid intense training if you told them that you do sports with me, nothing too heavy,” You smiled, as Peter thinks it over.

“Like what?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, we could play baseball? The good all hit and run style. Or maybe volleyball, you pick the sport that week and we’ll do it.”

“Do you even have the equipment?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Peter, honey, you’re currently in the home of a Stark - you think Tony doesn’t have these things on standby.”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t seem to be an athletic type.”

“I heard that!” Tony exclaimed as the two of you laugh.

When Peter moved in for the final time, Peter felt like he was somewhat out of place. He had a room at the Stark-(L/n) residence and he would spend nights, if not weekends, at theirs but he felt like he was intruding. It was a sudden change in Peter’s environment.

And yet, he felt warm in the house, whilst it really messed with his head for the past few days - you and Tony were slow with the process. You never pushed him out of his comfort zone. You helped him put up the stuff of his family around the house to allow him to heal.

You weren’t in The Avengers, so you had a lot of free time. Instead of working in an office, you created things to sell on the internet, it was a hobby because Tony insist you live a lavish life. But, that doesn’t stop you from working around the house. Peter was often met with delicious smelling food, whilst you had a rule that he would cook his own lunch if he didn’t have school and you would cook dinner for everyone.

You, Tony and Peter, would sit down together with each other, talking about Peter’s day at school and how Tony is dealing with things with Avengers and Stark Enterprise despite Pepper being in charge of that. Even after eating, sometimes you’ll dig into some dessert and talk about shared interest such as music and shows.

If you guys are watching a series together, you’ll update them on lore or when the next episode is being dropped out. If it’s about a shared interest in music, you would happily indulge in what music has been released recently.

Peter and Tony will happily clean after dinner, one will washing up and the other doing drying.

“You know we have a dishwasher right?” Tony called through as he hands Peter a soaked plate.

“And?” You called back, “It’s called responsibilities, I will not have lazy boys in my house!”

Peter chuckled as he put the plate down and takes the wet glass, he doesn’t mind the chores you ask him to do. You teach him lessons in life because sometimes just hanging around with you felt like home to him.

“You know how to work the washing machine, right Pete?” You asked, standing in the doorway of his room looking at the floor of dirty clothes.

“I’ll pick it up - I promise, but, um not really? Aunt May usually go to the laundrette.”

“Alright, when your laundry basket gets full, I’ll show you how to work the washing machine and dryer. I don’t mind doing your washing but every now and then, you can do it.”

“Yeah, that’ll be fine!”

When Peter fully settles into the house, he found himself loving his life. He loves watching you bicker with Tony about the stupidest things - mostly over characters in a show or film. In which, most of the time, he backs you up because the two of you are major geeks over shows and movies.

Peter noticed how much you care for him, knocking on his door and reminding him to drink water and always coming to his room to deliver snacks ranging from a healthy plate of the juiciest fruits to unhealthy sweets.

Whilst both of you were in Peter’s life, he saw you more as comfort - it was taking a while for Peter to adjust with Tony, he still see it as a mentor and student sort relationship. But, with you, he sees someone who he could come to for any troubles with school and relationships.

Peter walked into the living room, hearing how you and Tony were bickering over which character was better in Game of Thrones in each house. Peter couldn’t help but laugh about it.

“Hey, kid! Tony greeted with a wave, placing the hand back on your shoulder.

You smiled at Peter, “Heya Pete!”

“Hi Mr Stark, hi dad!”

Silence.

The only thing that was playing was the show in the background as Peter stood in his spot in utter fear. Tony sat there in silence as he looks over at you, you slowly got up from your seat without saying a word and made your way to Peter.

Peter looked at you with wide eyes, “I- I mean...!”

You engulfed him into the biggest hug you could muster. One hand on his back and the other in his hair, Peter found himself relaxing as he immediately wrapped his arms around you and grip you tight. You brushed his hair as he buried his face into your shoulder.

You release him, in fear that you might suffocate him, “I’m really honoured.”

“I-” Peter turns red, looking down for a moment before looking at you, “You are my dad, to me.”

You smiled widely at him, “Okay, celebration time, let’s bake cookies!”

You lead the way as Peter offers to help, the two of you pull your sleeves up as you bring the ingredients onto the counter. Tony followed, silently watching with a fond smile upon his face. He ruffles Peter’s hair with a smile as Peter beams at him.

“Alright, what can I help with?” Tony asked as you asked him to bring out the kitchen utensils, “Oh and Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What about me?” Tony pouts as Peter widen his eyes as you laugh loudly.

“Tough luck baby, it looks like Pete favours me,” You teased as Tony scoffed.

“No, unacceptable, I’m taking Peter for a week out, I’ll be the favourite parent.”

You roll your eyes as you look over to Peter whilst Tony rant, shaking your head and nodding your head towards your boyfriend, as you mouthed to Peter “Get a load of this guy.”

Peter smiles.

Peter knows death, but he’s well acquainted with family.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male!reader #x male reader #platonic #Avengers #avengers imagine

759 notes · View notes

ssson-of-sparda · 3 years ago

Text

Fathers Do Cry (DMC Vergil one shot)

Summary: Vergil remembers his last Father's Day with Sparda and doesn't really realise how similar to him he has become.

Tags: Father's Day special / DADGIL! / Vergil acting like a dad to Nero

Author’s note: I woke up this morning suddenly inspired. Doesn't happen very often so enjoy ;) ps: I just love Dadgil!

***

His big blue eyes staring without blinking, the child was observing his father sitting by the fireplace in the parlour. Full of admiration, he was detailing all the features of his serious face, all the details of his confident posture and all the different luxurious fabrics that made his purple finery and as he did, he repeated to himself, wished, prayed, that someday, one day, he would grow up to be just like him. “Aren’t you going to speak, Vergil?” The father’s powerful voice asked as he finally acknowledged the boy’s presence with a small amused smile, wondering what brilliant thoughts were occupying his eldest son’s sharp mind this time. “I made this for you, father.” With a solemnity that didn’t suit a five-years-old but that somehow fitted Vergil’s young yet wise spirit and his will to be perfect son in the eyes of Sparda, the boy handed a paper sheet to his father. “ And what would that be?” The man said as he took his son’s gift. “It’s father’s day so … I made you a poem… or tried to.” The adorable embarrassment tensing the child’s traits in funny grimaces made the father's smile wider but Vergil, suddenly too preoccupied with the blue paint stuck under his fingernails, didn’t notice it as he didn’t notice the paternal pride and the love shining in his eyes. “I thought your mother wanted you and your brother to make a gift together this year.” “ You know Dante” Vergil sighed. “He has no artistic talent whatsoever. He wanted to make you a wooden sword to play with us.” “ That’s actually a very good idea.” Vergil frowned; suddenly worried that Sparda would not like his gift and preferred Dante’s – if he had made one of course. “Except when the sword looks like two twigs glued together. You should have seen this, father. It looked ri.di.cu.lous.�� Sparda laughed at his son’s attitude, finding amusement in this sibling rivalry. “Why don’t you read me your poem then?” “ I learnt it by heart actually. The paper is for you to remember this day by … and also because I wanted to illustrate it. Look.” Vergil approached his father, seized the poem from his big hands and climbed on his lap to show him the delicate aquarelle he had painted around the lines. “Impressive. Did your mother help you with this?” Vergil shook his head. “No, I did it on my own. I used a book I saw in that old man’s house I often go to as a reference.” “ The old academic that lives down the hill? I thought you found him boring.” Vergil shook his head again, furiously this time and with a serious frown. “That’s Dante. Me, I really like him. He teaches me a lot of things. And he has lots of books. It’s incredible.”

Sparda ruffled his son’s silver hair whose hairdo was always made in order to somehow mimic his, thinking what a promising young boy Vergil was. Maybe more promising than Dante to be honest – though he knew he shouldn’t think that. But there was something that Vergil had that Dante lacked. Perhaps rationality beyond his age … or some kind of maturity … wisdom maybe? He couldn’t really pinpoint what it was exactly. All he knew is that it was something unique and special, just like his son, something that made Sparda certain that one day his eldest would grow up to be a great man, a man greater than him, a man worthy of the Yamato and capable of handling its burdening power.

“Can I recite my poem now?” Sparda smiled at the sparkle in Vergil’s eyes. “Sure.” The boy quickly took back his previous position in front his father, cleared his throat, put his hands behind his back and stuck out his chest.

Sparda listened to every word, fascinated and amazed by his little one’s talent and profoundly moved by all the love, all the meticulousness and the time he put in each line and in each word. “Oh Vergil. The world is not yet ready for someone like you.” The father said as he let a tear roll down his cheek. “Why are you crying, father?” Vergil worried. “Because fathers cry, my son.”

That day was the last time Vergil truly celebrated Father’s day for a few weeks later he had no father, no one to make poems to, no one to admire by the fireplace. Just a memory that he feared would sooner or later fade but that he would cling to dearly for as long as he could.

“Why don’t we bring flowers to Daddy’s statue in the park today?” Eva asked when Vergil was six, when Vergil was seven, when Vergil was eight only to be welcome by a heavy silence that was no longer hiding brilliant thoughts but a painful sadness. But each time he did as Eva suggested, maybe more for her than for him, maybe because he still loved and admired Sparda even if he had left him, maybe because he thought that his father might see him and smile from wherever he was now, the same way he had smiled when he had read him his poem on his last father’s day.

And that’s certainly why, more than three decades later, he was back in this park, on this very special day with a bouquet of purple peonies he had bought on his way here and a memory that never faded. A memory he could still recite.

"Whether the sun shines or the sky cries, Whether the day breaks or the night wakes, My father always as a rampart stands Protecting my house with his bare hands.

He is strong, he is brave And the day he always saves. A knight in cockroach armor To scare my terror away."

Vergil scoffed at the lines, at the way they rolled off his tongue, finding them funny and childish and not worthy of a Blake or a Fielding at all unlike what he thought when he wrote them as a child. The over-confidence of youth probably.

“Did you just come up with that?” Vergil turned around to see Nero walking towards him with a smirk. A surprise but not a bad one. “Cause the rhyming sucks a little. I expected more of you.” “ And I suppose you’re an expert in poetry now?” “ I may read have read one of your books.” He said as he tapped the pocket of his marine blue coat hiding Vergil's most sacred book with pride. “You still have it I see.” “Hey! It’s a real page turner! Can’t get my nose out of it.” Vergil had a crooked smile, understanding perfectly what his son meant.

Son? Even a year after this reveal he still couldn’t believe this boy before him, the one he had lived such a terrifying yet incredible adventure with, was his own flesh and blood.

A sigh almost escaped Vergil’s lips. How did he make such a fine young man? Someone so selfless, so generous, so loving when he was nothing like that. “ What are you doing here, Nero?” He asked, trying not to think more about this. “ Well it’s father’s day, no? So … I made you something… or tried to.” The embarrassed grimace Nero suddenly made made Vergil’s smile grew larger but Nero, too worried to keep the gift covered with the pieces of newspapers he had taped together, didn’t see it as he didn’t see the paternal pride and the love shining in his father’s blue eyes. The same paternal pride Sparda had displayed when Vergil was a little child with a small paper in his hands. “Thank you Nero.” The man said as he gently took the present from his son's hands, wondering what it was even though the long shape didn’t leave much place for imagination.

He cautiously unwrapped the thing, already feeling a happiness he hadn’t felt in years warming his heart. And when he saw a katana-like wooden sword that purposely looked like Yamato he couldn’t help but smile and let a tiny drop of water blur his blue eyes. “It was Dante’s idea. Though he might have suggested gluing two sticks together.” Nero said as he scratched his head. “It looks amazing.” Vergil’s honesty was like a knife in Nero’s chest but in a good way. It was as if all the stress and all the stupid fear he had felt while making this toy sword had been stabbed away. He felt relieved, joyful even that his always so stern father was genuinely grateful and seemed to appreciate his gift. “That way, you won’t have to tear my arm apart again cause look, you have two now.” Nero tried to joke but his words just erased the smile on Vergil’s face.

“There is not a single day I don't regret what I did to you.” This was Vergil’s way to say he was sorry. Nero was certain of it. He didn’t need to know his father that well to know it. After all, he was somewhat the same. “Hey, it’s in the past. Plus it grew back, so no harm done.” He winked, trying to ease the atmosphere with a bad pun worthy of Dante even though there was a time he would have ripped Vergil’s chest open for what he had done. And a part of him knew he would never forget and maybe never fully forgive what happened. But right now he was just happy to have a family, to have a father and to finally be able to celebrate a day he has so long hated. “ This world doesn’t deserve you, son.” Vergil solemnly declared. He had never called Nero that way and that name felt strange yet beautiful to both of them. It made the son and the father smile in ways they never thought they would smile at each other. “ Damn, are you crying old man? I thought devils never cry.” Nero suddenly harrumphed when he finally noticed the water growing in his father's eyes. “ Well, fathers do cry." Vergil declared as he allowed a tear of joy and pride to fall along his pale cheek. The first in a very very long time but one he will never regret or brush away. "Father do cry.” He repeated with a glance at the statue of his father behind him.

#vergil #devil may cry #devil may cry one shot #dmc one shot #vergil one shot #nero #sparda #fanfiction #dadgil

169 notes · View notes

jihyuncompass · 3 years ago

Text

Link to the Other Boys

☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙

Giving: Acts of Service

Artem glanced up at you sitting across the table. You’d invited him over on a day off to work on some of the NXX cases you’d been trying to work on together. However, looking at you in front of him, he seemed concerned.

“Is there something bothering you?” Artem asked. You looked up from the file in your hand, Artem must have noticed the way you were fidgeting with your pen, or how your jaw was clenched. Sighing softly you put the file down on the table.

“I’m alright.” You said, leaning back in your chair. “I guess I’m just a little tired.” Artem set his pen down and looked over at you.

“Are you sleeping enough?” You shrugged.

“With all these cases I’m working on there hasn’t been much time to sleep. I get what I can.” You told him, however based on the way he was eyeing you it didn’t seem that your explanation really did much. “I’m fine. Really.” Lifting up your files again you resumed your note taking, avoiding Artem’s piercing gaze as you did so.

His gaze didn’t leave you, even after several long moments. Biting your tongue you avoided meeting his eyes. “How about we take a break.” Artem said, while he carefully took the file from your hands. You attempted to reach back for the file, but Artem kept it from your grasp. “I think we could both use a break.”

Biting your tongue you leaned back against your chair, clearly Artem wasn’t going to relent, and maybe he had a point. You stretched your arms above your head. “Fine. I guess you’re right.”

“I think I’m starting to get hungry.” Artem said, standing from his chair. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I could go for something to eat.” You shrugged, your words interrupted by a long yawn. Covering your mouth as you did. Artem watched you, taking in your face.

“I’ll get us something. In the meantime you should go and rest.” Artem said.

“Are you sure? I could get food for us.”

Artem shook his head. “I’ll take care of it. But what you need is some sleep, go get some rest and I’ll wake you up when food is ready.”

Briefly you considered arguing with him, you didn’t want him to think you were taking care of yourself, or that you needed him to take care of you, but the way he was looking at you, and the way you could feel your body start to grow heavier, you didn’t decide it would be worth arguing about it with him.

You trudged up to your bedroom, staying quiet to listen for Artem as you crawled under your covers. He seemed fairly quiet except for the occasional sound of him walking around or shuffling the files on the table. However after a while you gave up trying to figure out exactly what he was doing, as your eyes fell closed and you drifted off not too long afterwards.

The warm smell of food cooking woke you up. Feeling around for your phone you noticed you’d been asleep for almost two hours by this point, much longer than you’d originally thought. Sitting up in bed you shook your head to shake the rest of the sleepiness. How could have you been asleep for so long? Didn’t Artem say he’d wake you up when he had the food?

Sitting there the smells coming from downstairs got stronger. It smelled like something was in the oven, or something was being cooked on the stove. You’d expect that Artem would have ordered take out, or would go to pick up something.

Dragging yourself from your bed you checked yourself in your bedroom mirror. You looked a bit disheveled from your nap but still looked at least somewhat put together still. Soothing out your clothes you made sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs.

Artem stood in front of the stove attending to whatever was being cooked. Looking around your kitchen you could tell he must have been preparing a full meal.

“You’re cooking?” You asked him. Artem looked over his shoulder at you, taking a step to the side to see you better, but also allowing you a good look at the stove. A large pot boiled with what looked like some kind of soup. A skillet was sizzling on the burner next to the pot, and the oven on with what looked to be some kind of bread baking.

“I said I was going to make some food for us.” Artem said, returning his attention to the bubbling pot.

“I guess I thought you meant you were going to go and get us takeout or something. I hadn’t expected all of this.” You motioned to the stove. “Where’d you get the ingredients too, I know for a fact there’s practically nothing in my cupboards.”

“You don’t have much that’s true, but I left briefly and picked up a few things at the grocery store down the road.” He stirred the soup and checked the sizzling meat on the skillet. “It’s almost done, I also got some bread to go with it that’s still baking.” Your mouth watered at the sights.

“You really didn’t have to do all this. This is way too kind.” You said but Artem shook his head in reply.

“I prefer to cook my meals myself, it’s healthier than going out for takeout.” He said. “I also made sure to prepare extra, so you can have this soup for the next few days too.”

Struck silent you just watched him for a minute, trying to wrap your mind around everything he’d just done for you. Noticing your silence Artem raised his brow at you. “Are you upset? I promise I didn’t mean to invade your kitchen-” You shook your head to cut him off.

“It’s not that I’m just.” You started, sighing contently. “You’re just very sweet Artem.” Artem didn’t speak, his face beginning to turn shades of red.

“I’m just worried you don’t eat enough, I see what you eat at work. I know you’re busy and don’t like cooking.” He said. You approached the stove, looking at everything he’d been working on while you slept. While he’d told you to rest and care for yourself.

Artem watched you, his eyes clearly on you as he examined your face and expressions. “This is almost done then we can eat.” He said, clearing his throat. You nodded and set the files on the table aside. You stole a few glances at Artem and the redness crawling up his face.

“If you’d like.” Artem said, breaking the short silence. “I’d be willing to cook for you more often.”

Grinning at him, you nodded. “I’d love that.”

So would he.

☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙ ☙

Receiving: Quality Time

Artem tapped his fingers on his desk. He’d been at this case now for the last few hours, normally these types of cases were quick to make notes of, and even quicker to create arguments based on the evidence, but this one had taken up more time than he would have liked.

The knock on his office door pulled him out of his mind, grabbing his attention. “Come in.” He said, glancing at this computer he didn’t have any meetings scheduled for right now. So it must be someone from the office.

You entered his office after he’d called out to you. Waving hello to him as you crossed over the threshold. “I know you’re busy but I had a bit of a question for you.” Artem leaned back in his chair.

“What’s your question?”

“Well it’s not about work.” You clarified. Artem’s brow was raised, but he motioned for you to continue. “When I was on my way to work I saw a flyer for a film festival that’s happening in town this weekend. And I know you like movies and reviewing them so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go together this weekend?”

“You would want to go to a film festival with me?”

You nodded. “I would! I don’t know a whole lot about movies but I know you like them! I thought it might be fun to spend some time together.”

Artem sat quietly for a short moment before he spoke again. “I would like to go with you.” Artem said, lips pulling into a small smile. “I could pick you up on Saturday if you’d like?” You’d nodded happily, and told him you were looking forward to it. To which Artem agreed, as he tried to hide just how excited he was.

As agreed, Artem picked you up from your apartment that weekend. He was wearing a sweater and trousers, not something you were used to seeing Artem wear.

“It’s nice to see you dressed more casually.” You said. “I feel like I hardly see you outside of work or NXX. It’s nice to see you like this.”

Artem attempted to hide how the complement made his face flush red the smallest amount. “It’s nice to see you too. Are you ready?”

“Yep! I’m ready to watch some films.” You said, settling into the car seat. “Although I’m no movie buff like you are.”

“That’s fine.” Artem said. “You can enjoy the films without needing to know much about the film.” You smiled at him.

“I wouldn’t mind you teaching me some things about them either.”

Artem smiled, just enough to let you see. “And I’ll happily do that.”

You followed Artem’s lead, letting him look through the lists of films being shown that day. On the drive he’d mentioned reading up on a few of the movies being shown, but that he also had wanted to go in mostly blind.

“So, what do you think looks good?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Artem adjusted his hand so you could read the list better, pointing to a few showings. “These films look like they have some promise to them. And this one has a question and answers session with the director after. I think you might like this one.”

“I’m interested!” You said. “I trust your judgement.”

“You don’t have to agree just because I mentioned it, you can also suggest what you would like.” Artem said.

Shaking your head you smiled at him. “But I do trust you! Besides, I mostly wanted to come here to get to spend some time with you.” You explained. “I don’t like films that much, but you do and I wanted to do something you like with you.”

Artem searched your expression for honesty. Finding your words the complete truth. In his chest his heart started to race. Clearing his throat he tried to get himself back under control, still despite his efforts you saw how his face got hotter.

“Well.” Artem said once he could form words. “I’m glad you wanted to spend this time with me.” He looked at you sincerely, admiring the way you looked at him. “Let’s see this one film first. Then afterwards, I think there’s a film you’ll really enjoy.” He smiled at you, you nodded. Following his lead while Artem did his best to avoid letting it show just how flustered he appeared.

Despite his attempts you knew him better than that, easily able to see through the way he tried to hide his expression. You smiled, the smallest bit proud of the way you could make him happy like this.

Another person would have assumed that Artem was a complicated man, professional and thoughtful. Yet, it brought you joy just to see how the most simple of things could bring him joy like this. Walking in step with Artem you followed his excited eyes towards the first screening.

“Artem?”

“Yes?” He asked, turning his gaze at you.

“We should spend time together more often.”

He smiled, that warm and beautiful smile you’d give the world to have. “Yes. Let’s.”

#tears of themis #artem wing #zuo ran #artem wing x reader #tot #mihoyo

100 notes · View notes

fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi fanmoose! Got a prompt for you, if you're interested: Levi seeing the 104th and the vets preparing gifts for Hange's birthday, but he's wondering what to give them so he goes above and beyond... all the Scouts are taken by surprise.

Thanks, and good luck!

i changed a couple of things..... hope you still enjoy it! thanks for the prompt <3

Jean got a notebook. Armin made a new quill, using a feather from the owl he and Mikasa caught. Connie brought from his home village a whole basket of peers Hange loved so much. Sasha was responsible for baking a cake.

Nifa made her favorite brownies. Mike decided to gift Hange a new jacket, Nanaba bought a new pair of shoes, Erwin got her a new pair of glasses and a microscope she was whining about for so long. Moblit drew a fucking portrait of her.

Even Eren, as obtuse as he was, prepared a present for Hange.

“My mom was very good at sewing,” he shared with Levi, in the middle of his training, “she didn’t teach me how to do it,” at that, his voice lost some of its edge, tints of sadness appearing, “but Mikasa knows how to sew and she promised to help me with it!”

Levi could only arch an eyebrow. “And how is that related to a gift for Hange?”

Eren leaned closer with a hand next to his mouth, looking so serious, like he was going to tell the biggest secret in the world. “I’m going to sew a plushie for Squad Leader.”

“A plushie? A fucking toy with your titan’s face?”

There was a beat of silence. Then… “Damn it.” Eren took head in his hands, tugging at his hair with alarming desperation. “Damn it! I should have sewed the plushie of my Titan! Hange-san loves it!”

Yeah, as much as it annoyed Levi, there was certainly no way he could deny that.

“So… what did you sew instead?”

Peaking beneath his fingers, Eren mumbled. “A plushie of me holding a heart that says ‘I love you, Hange’.”

Fuck… as dense as Eren was, Levi had to admit… the gift was not bad at all. Especially for Eren. Especially comparing to his gift, which consisted of…

Nothing.

Just two days were left before Hange’s birthday, and he still no idea what to give her. Hange was probably expecting a present from him. Or, maybe, she was not. She was nice like that – always giving without asking for something in return. Hange was also kind, she thought he was her friend, and even more than that. Best friend, she once told him. And Levi had to admit. He felt it too. Hange was his friend. The first one he made in Survey Corps. The closest one he had.

Some friend he was, apparently. Not even preparing a gift for her.

Sensibly, he knew that he was making a problem out of nothing. He could give Hange something simple – a shampoo she obviously didn’t possess; a book she would probably like and squeal in his ear about; a new shirt or a bottle of good wine.

Hange would probably enjoy these kinds of gift. They were certainly useful. But were they meaningful? Would Hange remember them, ten years from now?

He wanted her to. Hange was his friend, perhaps, even something more. He wanted only the best for her. That’s why picking up a gift was such a problem.

With only two days left, Levi was getting desperate. He was thinking about seeking out help, but just before he gathered the strength…

The help came to him themselves.

“Good day, Levi,” with a good-natured smile, Erwin invaded his office, Mike and Nanaba trailing after him. “Are you busy?”

Levi pointedly looked at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Yes,” he drew, “All thanks to you, Erwin.”

“Well, you can take a break,” Erwin waved his hand dismissively, and took a seat on the opposite end of Levi’s desk. Nanaba and Mike occupied the sofa. “We came to discuss something very important,” the smile was gone, as Erwin clenched his jaw and knitted his eyebrows in a hard line. Looking at that expression, Levi felt his stomach sinking. What was this all about? If it was about their upcoming expedition, then where was… “A little birdie shared with us,” Erwin interrupted his heavy thoughts, “That you still have no present for Hange.”

What? Levi gawked at his guests, switching his confused gaze from one to the other.

“And what is the name of that birdie?” He would find that birdie and give them a piece of his mind, for sure. Who dared get poke his nose into his personal matters?

“Please, Levi,” Mike joined the conversation, “You couldn’t get more obvious. I can smell your desperation from miles away.”

Levi’s annoyance rose. Birdies, smelling desperation. Could they talk like normal people?

Seeing his increasing frustration, Nanaba decided to come to rescue. She smiled, tucking a lock of her hair behind an ear. “I overheard your conversation with Eren. You looked a bit distressed, honestly I thought you were going to kick his ass again… And since I doubt Hange is enamored with Eren in that way, I concluded that you…”

“Are angry not because the boy is a titan and spends too much time with Hange, but because he already has a gift prepared, when you do not.” Erwin finished.

Well… the conclusion was sound, at least. But that didn’t mean that Levi felt any less annoyed.

“So?” he raised an eyebrow, staring judgingly at his intruders. “What do you want from me?”

“We want to help, of course,” the smile was back at Erwin’s lips. “And we have some ideas.”

“Such as?”

Nanaba bounced from her seat, crossing the room to bang her palms against the surface of Levi’s desk. He jumped slightly, certainly not expecting it.

“You know what Hange really likes?”

“Books?” Levi tried. “Science? Titans? Books about titan’s science?”

“No, dummy,” Nanaba shook her head, “Hange likes you.”

It took him a long moment to comprehend. Even then, the only thing Levi could get out of his mouth was a very faint, “Eh?”

“We all know how much Hans makes you happy.” Mike said.

They did? How so?

“You spend a lot of time with Hange,” Erwin noted, answering his unasked question.

“And you allow her to do things that you deny everyone else,” Nanaba continued.

“And when she is with you, that constipated expression disappears from your face.” Mike finished.

He… didn’t have a constipated expression. And while Hange did make his days more pleasant and his survival that easier and more enjoyable… Levi was sure that no one knew about it, but him.

“Listen, we all know that you like Hange, and we’re telling you that Hange likes you. That’s why…” Erwin lifted his chin, his smile becoming nearly devilish. Were they still talking about a simple birthday gift? “I made a reservation in a restaurant in Sina. Take Hange there, eat good food, drink some wine, have a good night… Make Hange happy.”

Their suggestion was certainly better than Levi’s nothing. However…

“What you’re offering seems a lot like fraternization. Isn’t that illegal?” he narrowed his eyes at Erwin, skepticism oozing from him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Perish the thought!” not swayed by Levi’s scary expression, Erwin chuckled. “You’re correct, technically, two officers are not allowed to enter romantic relationship, but I think it’s a little too late for that.” Huh? Just how Levi was meant to interpret that? “Besides… think about humanity, Levi! If you and Hange were to conceive a child…” the expression on Erwin’s face was so dreamy, Levi felt chills at the base of his spine. “A child born from the union of humanity’s strongest and smartest… It could very well save our world!”

Levi stared at his Commander, at loss of words. Saying ‘you’re fucked up in the head, Erwin’ seemed a little too rude even for him, considering that Erwin was his superior officer. Still… he was fucked up in the head.

“Don’t listen to him,” Nanaba spoke, attracting Levi’s attention. “But think about our offer. An evening like that will really make Hange happy. You want that, don’t you?”

Did he want to make Hange happy? More than anything…

“Do it for Hange,” Nanaba urged.

“Do it for love,” Mike added.

“Do it for humanity!” Erwin passionately concluded.

Fucked up in the head, Levi thought. All of them were. Himself, included. But what was he going to lose? Besides, their offer was better than anything he could have come up with.

“Alright,” he surrendered, a sigh escaping him. “I’ll do it.”

Nanaba cheered. Mike nodded at him with a smile. Erwin looked like he was about to cry. Then, to Levi’s horror, he saluted.

“Get out of my office now,” he shooed them away, lowering his gaze back to the papers. “I need to work.”

“Just another quick thing,” Nanaba patted his shoulder with a cheerful smile. “Walk Hange to the door of her room after the dinner. And make sure that you return after nine o’clock.”

Ah. So they had an ulterior motive. Of course. Levi shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re planning something for Hange, I take it?”

“A little party,” Mike confessed. “We’ll deal with food and drinks, but you’re in charge of getting Hange there in time.”

Levi didn’t remember agreeing to be in charge of Hange, but… he didn’t like the idea of anyone else doing it in his stead.

“Nine o’clock, four-eyes’ room, I got it. Now get out of my office.”

Nanaba, Erwin and Mike didn’t need to be told twice.

___

After finding a solution to his main dilemma, Levi was now met with another, no less important and challenging than the previous one.

Erwin and the others got him a reservation at the restaurant. But... now he needed to invite Hange there.

His first attempt, executed not long after Erwin, Nanaba and Mike left his office, failed spectacularly, despite his expectations. He naively thought that a simple note, carried to Hange via Moblit, would suffice. But, perhaps, the note didn’t reach its destination. Or Hange forgot to read it. Or she somehow misinterpreted the sentence ‘do you want to dine together?’. Or the fault laid in the absence of Levi’s signature.

Nevertheless, he needed to do better.

His next attempt was slightly more successful. At least, he got some kind of reaction. Still not reaction he had needed. Apparently, there were ways that one could misunderstand the simple phrase ‘hey, four-eyes, want to eat with me?’. Levi had expected a very enthusiastic ‘yes’. Instead he received ‘I’ll see you at the dinner’ and a door to his face.

Evidently, he had to do not only better, but also be a little clearer about his intentions.

After lots of pondering, Levi decided that nothing could be clearer than throwing a shiny new black jacket from Mike at Hange and barking, “Get dressed, Hange. We’re going out.”

That got him an intrigued ‘oooh’ and a promise to be ready in five minutes.

Levi smirked to himself. Finally, his plan had worked. Finally, he got through that brilliant and extremely dense head.

___

At first, the dinner was, for the lack of better word,extremely awkward.

Erwin failed to mention just how fancy the restaurant would be. Turned out, it was fancy. Very fancy. Fancier than anything Levi had seen in his life. Even Hange, despite not being a street rat from Underground, was feeling a little off.

“Everyone is staring at us,” she whispered to him, leaning over the table to do so.

Hange was right. Everyone was gawking at them. Perhaps, the reason for it was their clothes. Both of them were dressed in their best suits. Still, their best didn’t even begin to reach the best of the gathered crowd. Perhaps, other guests were weirded out by Hange’s loud cheer at the sight of meat in the menu.

Or, perhaps, their reputation preceded them, and everyone in here knew about humanity’s strongest soldier and crazy titan scientist, two of Erwin Smith’s loyal devils.

Whatever the case was, Levi didn’t like the obvious staring. They came here to eat and have a good time, not be observed like clowns in the circus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back to her. He really was. It was Erwin’s mistake, but it was Hange’s birthday and it was his fault for not checking the restaurant beforehand. He was a scout, for fuck’s sake. It was his job.

“Don’t even start,” Hange huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Not the first time I receive that sort of treatment. Probably not the last one as well.”

Hange paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “And if they want to look at us so much, let’s give them something to stare at.”

Levi’s lips twitched up. “And what do you suggest?”

“Let’s order the priciest meals they have, eat them like animals they think we are, and then run away and let Erwin deal with that.”

There were many reasons why Levi loved Hange. This was one of them.

___

True to Hange’s plan, they were at their worst behavior. They used spoons instead of forks, they drank straight from the bottle, Hange ate the dessert with her hands, smearing cake all over her mouth, cheeks, palms and shirt. Barely keeping himself from laughing out loud, Levi wiped it all with his cravat, as Hange cooed at his chivalry.

Two hours later, their stomachs were full, the crowd was scandalized, their hearts were merry and their eyes were shining with unbridled mischief.

“I think we’ve succeeded at making the worst impression possible,” Hange spoke, following it with a loud laughter. Several guest scoffed at the volume. Levi showed all of them his scariest scowl. The rich fuckers returned their attention to their plates in record time.

“It’s time we make our exit,” he agreed.

He looked at Hange more closely, thinking if he should take the risk. She had been touching him freely throughout the whole evening. She pressed their calves together under the table, she ran a hand through his arm, she let him touch her face and tilt her chin. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea, so… Levi took a deep sighed, searching for every bit of courage inside of him. Once all of it was gathered, he took Hange by the hand, helping her to stand up.

To his surprise and huge relief, she didn’t shake his hand off. On the contrary, she squeezed his palm and interlaced their fingers.

Hand in hand, they started towards walking out of the restaurant. On his way there, Levi discreetly pushed a plate of soup at some wealthy lady, staining her light creamy dress and receiving a indignant cry and a joyous giggle from Hange.

After that, they had to speed up a little. It was Hange’s birthday. Levi didn’t want to spend it in the prison cell.

Once they were outside and some distance away from the restaurant, Hange stopped.

“Shit, Levi! Had you seen her face? She was—”

She didn’t finish. Hange leaned against the wall and threw her head back, laughing without abandon. She doubled over, hugging her stomach, her mirth not ceasing. Finding her mood strangely infectious, Levi couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Still snickering to herself, Hange looked up to meet his gaze. Her whole body was shaking from the laughter, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Disheveled, red-faced and laughing, she was the most beautiful sight Levi had ever seen. The moonlight and faint stars only accentuated her beauty.

Levi was lost in watching her.

Subconsciously, in a mindless attempt to get a better look at the wonder that was Hange Zoe, he leaned in.

Hange leaned in too, her hand finding place at his shoulder. She moved that hand slightly, closer to his neck. Her fingers ghosted around his hairline, making him shiver.

He was looking in her eyes. Hange was looking at his lips.

The world around the two of them faded, the sounds of a street at night, the singing from the nearby pub disappearing to the background.

Levi didn’t know, had failed to register who moved first. But a moment later, his hand was on her waist, and Hange buried her fingers in his hair. And then, they were kissing – sloppily, desperately, without skill but with lots of passion.

Levi felt like he was struck by lightning. Nothing he had ever done before felt even remotely as good as kissing Hange did.

As the kiss progressed, becoming deeper, Levi found himself pressed against the wall.

Hange was everywhere – her tongue was in his mouth, her palms on his cheeks, her knee was rising, resting against his crotch. It was almost too much. And yet, not enough.

“Hange, Hange,” with some difficulty, he separated himself from her hot mouth and soft lips. “Hange, if someone sees us—”

“Oh, right,” still pressed dangerously close to him, she giggled. “Erwin would have a heart attack if we get jailed for making out on the streets. He’d deem us a disappointment to humanity.”

“Back to barracks then?”

Hange licked her lips and winked. Levi felt another strong surge of desire. “We can continue there.”

After that kind of promise, Levi hurried to find where they left their horses. He all but raced there, and jumped on his loyal stallion, grasping the reins a little too tightly.

Hange followed his suit. “Who arrives at the barracks first, gets to be on top?” she challenged.

Without waiting for his reply, she started off. Cursing, Levi struggled to keep up.

That day, he learned one essential lesson. Riding a horse with a raging boner was a fucking torture.

___

Hange was the first one to reach the stumbles. Dismounting her horse, she ran up to Levi, pulling him off the saddle and instantly connecting their lips. Levi would have liked to complain, but… who was he kidding?

Without another word, he brought Hange closer, putting his hand on her hip.

Just as the first one, the second kiss was amazing, enough to knock his breath out and make his knees buckle underneath him.

“If that’s my birthday gift,” Hange murmured, panting after they broke apart. “Then it’s the best one I ever had.”

And here Levi thought that there was nothing more enjoyable than kissing Hange. But as he saw her gentle smile, the adoring expression in her twinkling eyes, he was ready to melt in her arms.

However, he wouldn’t be himself if he passed an opportunity to use a sarcastic quip. “Is it better than Erwin’s microscope? Than Eren’s plushie?”

Hange put a finger to her chin, looking up with a thoughtful expression. “The microscope is really good, and that plushie is so adorable…” Levi’s good spirits vanished, as something ugly found its place inside his chest. Before it could manifest in a scowl, Hange caught his lips with hers once again.

“But nothing is better than you, shorty,” she confessed as they separated.

Hange likes you, Nanaba had said. She wasn’t wrong, it seemed.

“Your room or mine?” he asked, already tugging off Hange’s jacket.

“Mine. I was the one to win, after all,” she smirked, rapidly turning away and starting to run. Levi had no choice but to chase her.

___

He caught up with her near the entrance. Ceasing the moment, he wrapped arms around her waist, pressing her to him. Hange’s giggle turned into a moan. Levi delighted in that.

Exchanging messy kisses, they tumbled through the front door. Unable to break away from each other, they clumsily walked through the barracks, tripping and stumbling. And, despite the growing desire, they didn’t hurry as well. They stopped near the stairwell, so Hange could put a hickey on a spot above his collarbone. They paused at the middle of the hallway, so Levi could grind against her. Hange pressed him against the wall to whisper, “Fuck, Levi, this feels so good.”

When they reached the bedroom, Levi was ready to cheer. It was the longest walk through the barracks he had ever had. Was Hange’s room always that far away from the entrance?

With her hands shaking, she searched through her pockets for a key. She found it after a long minute that Levi spent kissing her neck. Once she fished it out, she put the key in the keyhole, and decided to celebrate that grand achievement with another breathtaking kiss.

Getting a little too eager, Levi pushed Hange forward. That was his mistake.

Apparently, the door to her room wasn’t closed. And, apparently,the room also wasn’t empty.

Unfortunately, Levi realized that and remembered the second part of Erwin’s plan a second too late. After he had heard the loud and cheerful ‘Happy birthday, Hange!’

With his arms still around Hange, he froze. Everyone else in the room froze too. The awkward silence settled over.

Levi’s thought frantically moved around his head, jumping from one corner to another. What should he do? Apologize? Let Hange go? Tell all of them to fuck off so he and Hange could finish what they had started?

However, he didn’t get to decide what to do with the unexpected audience. Hange chose for him.

“Guys!” she clasped her hands joyfully, her smile brighter than all the candles that stood around the room combined. “That’s so sweet! Thank you!”

She pulled away from Levi, sprinting to get to her friends. She gave a tight hug to Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Jean, Connie… Levi thought the string of people who wanted Hange’s attention would never end.

After hugs, came cake, and after cake was wine. He felt ignored, he felt utterly forgotten. He contemplated if he should go back to his room. He wanted Hange to kiss him again.

But instead he was sulking in the corner, munching on a cake Sasha had prepared. At least, the cake was good. But his frustration left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As his plate was emptied, Levi thought once again about leaving. But in that exact moment, seemingly out of nowhere, Hange appeared by his side.

“Planning to ditch the party early?” she wiggled her eyebrows, staring at him with unmasked mischief.

“It’s your birthday, not mine, four-eyes.”

“Exactly!” Hange threw an arm over his shoulders. “You’re my guest of honor!”

Ignoring the awakening of butterflies in his stomach and chalking them up to the effects of Sasha’s cake, Levi grunted, “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want you to stay!”

Levi rolled his eyes. He couldn’t really say no to Hange today, right? Although, he had troubles saying no to her any other day as well…

“And thank you for spending the whole evening with me,” Hange punctuated her gratitude with a kiss to his cheek. The butterflies were now flying freely, making Levi dizzy. It was hard to deny their origin anymore, with the trigger standing so close to him. “It was the best birthday I ever had.”

Well, that was all the gratitude Levi needed.

Before she left his side to receive more birthday wishes from their friends, Hange put her mouth above his ear, lowering her voice to a whisper, “Stay until the end, shorty. I’m not finished with you.”

She bounced off before he could give an answer. Perhaps, it was fairly obvious to her.

After all, how he could refuse Hange on the day of her birthday? How could he say no to receiving more of her attentions, and kisses?

With a satisfied hum, Levi settled against the wall, aiming his glare at all the guests. He couldn’t wait until all of them would leave. He couldn’t wait to have Hange all to himself.

#levihan #hange zoe

107 notes · View notes

thesunshinebunny · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I've seen two asks with the first reaction of a Fem!Reader dancing in an erotic/sexy way. (One with the dorm heads and one with the vice dorm heads-)

So I thought I could ask the same thing, but with Cater, Jack, Floyd, Epel, Sebek and Silver. It's okay if it's breaking the rules or you're not comfortable with writing it! But thanks in advance anyways! Stay peachy!! ^^

I never thought I'd end up making a whole series of requests for this style, and to think that the dorm heads was my first order for Twst, what a great start.

Dorm Leaders reaction

Vice Dorm Leaders reaction

As always, all characters are +18 Enjoyyyyyy

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

Cater

Montero – Lil Nas X

I imagine Cater as a person who follows trends and is aware of the new music that comes out every single day, so I don't think it is weird to find him listening to the new of Lil Nas x (hiding it from Riddle obviously, knowing him that kind of songs would be strictly prohibited in the halls of Heartslabyul)

But as smart as Cater could get with social media and internet fashions, he didn't notice how you had gotten into music so much that you were mentally creating a choreography.

One specifically for him.

So, when you asked him to spend some private time in the comfort of his bedroom, he didn't expect at all that you would sit him in the middle of his bed just passing the threshold.

For a moment he thought you were going to give him a massage or a handjob, but when you told him to wait patiently, that you were going to change, his impure thoughts were dispelled, thinking that you were going to get more comfortable to snuggle with him.

How wrong he was. It was seeing you come out of the bathroom with a hoodie (that warm and purposeful had nothing), which barely covered your sports bra and shorts, half covering your butt, when all unseemly thoughts returned to his mind.

He stretched out his hands to pull you to him, but you stayed in place, saying you had another surprise.

Cater automatically took out his cell phone to record and take some occasionals photos.

Watching you dance so freely, doing a private show and personally for him made his heart race to a thousand an hour. Even his pants were starting to tighten.

It was seeing your ass and automatically biting his lips. In his mind he was wanting to place each palm on each of your cheeks and squeeze them as he held you against him, preventing you from moving, and his cock buried well deep inside you.

"Are you happy to see me?" your question brought him out of his reverie, realizing that your choreography was over.

He put the cell phone aside and pounced on you, wrapping his arms around you, capturing your lips and throwing you on the bed. Perhaps, among all the ruffle, he put his phone in recording mode and captured ... the entire subsequent session.

Don't worry, Cater would never divulge a video like that and if you want it delete it, he will do it immediately. If not, he will keep it in a folder with a password.

Jack

Solo – Demi Lovato

Jack tried multiple times to convince you to go train with him around the Savannaclaw arena, but each time you refused, stating that you liked being more in the comfort of the bed, covered up to your head, rather than get up at five in the morning to run.

He didn’t take it the wrong way, the way he trained was not for everyone, but he did advise you not to stay still and fall into a sedentary lifestyle, claiming that it would be harmful to your health.

Therefore, you decided to start training on your own, with your own time and doing a little of what you liked most; because remember: to be able to dance like divine goddesses, you need to train ... and a lot.

While he went out for a run, you stayed asleep, when classes ended it was your turn to train.

One day classes ended quite early in your case, allowing you to go to Jack's room to rest and wait for him; But the minutes grew long and what seemed like an hour of waiting turned into two.

So… loud music, more comfortable clothes and practice.

And what does Jack like more than training? See you give your best while doing what you like.

Finding you in his room dancing in sportswear was an image that he would like to print and keep in his mind.

He didn’t care that you were sweating or that the clothes weren’t the tightest to mark your figure, just seeing you move your hips was what he needed to have a smile from ear to ear.

Finish your dance calmly, that your gray wolf will be waiting for you at the door, smiling at you and with open arms to give you a big hug for the effort.

He would eat you with kisses and bites to show you how happy he was to see you happy. If this leads to more… spicy things, that's up to you.

What if I recommend you not to dance this same choreography in the training field in broad daylight, where everyone can see you. The results could be a bit possessive.

But, if you're brave enough, don't complain later if you end up with bites and marks all over your body.

Floyd

My oh My – Camilla Cabello

You walked into the gym expecting to find the basketball team training as usual, but there was no one in their place. Absolute silence.

You took the opportunity to place your backpack next to the roadways, change into comfortable sportswear and put on some music to improve the atmosphere.

When this song started to play, you elatedly stood in the middle of the gym, a sly smile on your face, completely ignoring the sound of rumbling footsteps and slowly approaching the gym.

You were in the middle of the choreography when you felt two arms gripping you tightly, leaving you gasping for air. You screeched as Floyd began to squeeze you more and more, making it impossible for you to move.

"My my, nobody taught you to pay attention to your surroundings when you're alone, koebi-chan?" that sceared the shit out of you.

"Can I dance with you?"

He pulled you closer to him, pressing your back against his torso and your hips against his, lifting you off the floor, and began to spin and sway to the rhythm of the music.

The situation made you laugh until you felt his hand pass over your chest and touch your breast. He settled you against the wall, now your pussy positioned on his erect dick, grinding it thanks to his arms that held you in the air.

At no point did either of you stop the music, letting the playlist roll on and cover the sweet moans coming out of your mouth.

Some freshman ventured into the gym when they heard faint groans creep through the large metal doors.

They got the scare of their lives when they saw Floyd pounding from behind you, staring straight at the entrance and throwing death threats with just his eyes.

Epel

Do it like a dude – Jessie J

Listen to me... you can't tell the only woman at NRC that she can't participate in a dance competition because "it's only for guys"

Uhhhhhhhhh, if I was in that situation how would break their teeth.

Buuuut, you were able to defend yourself in a better way… going to the middle of the training ground where the competition (led by Professor Vargas) was taking place.

I have to say that you left all the participants with icy skin? Other than making them feel like they have a small dick. Straight to the ego.

And Epel was no different. He wasn’t embarrassed by the fact that a girl had beaten him in steps that were recognized later is another matter not ashamed at all, not at all.

Which did bring his ego to the ground and his self-esteem was to see you give your all to overthrow sexism, while he could barely stand in the same line as those of Savannaclaw.

Either way, he enjoyed watching you dance, you seemed re-empowered and that gave you an aura of a strong and powerful woman.

If those who refused to let you participate didn’t give you the prize, rest assured that Epel will leave them in their place, perhaps with the help of Deuce.

He asked you how you could have so much confidence in yourself and that may have caused a butterfly effect ... he wanted to know, well you will teach him in bed.

Two or three tricks may have taken effect and in the next competition (or anything) Epel will give his best, even if he has you as an opponent.

Victory sex for whoever wins? Victory sex.

Sebek

Play with Fire – Sam Tinnesz

You were calm in the comfort of your bedroom, going over some class assignments, some background music, Grimm sleeping next to the bed. A normal day.

But quite boring.

You decided to go down to do a little stretching, so much time hunched over in bed looking at the notes it makes your back very bad. You took your cell phone and left the little cat sleeping comfortably.

Between those stretches you got the idea of practicing a little choreography, nothing too complicated or time consuming; maybe half an hour, forty minutes and that's it.

Well, it ended up being a two hour workout, doing one choreography more complicated than the other. Night had fallen and you were supposed to have a little "date" with Sebek right in your bedroom.

There were knocks on the door, but with the volume of the music you couldn't hear them, nor did you hear the creak of the door opening and closing.

Sebek found you in the middle of the living room, moving your arms around your body. He’s not stupid, he knew you were doing a choreography and he would have enough patience to let you finish it and show up.

What he didn’t expect was to see your figure fall to the floor and move in those ... eccentric movements

Indecent thoughts get out of this mind.

You finished dancing and Sebek was still standing in the middle of the hall, not knowing what to do, where to look, and if he was allowed to speak.

"Sebek are you ok? When did you came in?"

Completely taken out of his reverie, ready to continue the evening as if nothing had happened.

Inwardly he was dying of excitement.

Without telling you anything, with the "date" half finished, having a good and sweet dinner, he just ... slamed you against the wall and took you right there and there.

You both ended up scaring poor Grimm. He just wanted to come down to eat his tuna.

Silver

Maria - 화사 (Hwasa)

It wasn’t unusual to hear multiple and different songs in the corridors of Diasomnia, especially with Lilia as a member of the light music club; it was normal to hear all kinds of rhythms, even different languages.

Therefore, Silver didn’t find it unusual to hear Korean lyrics as he walked through the lounge of his dorm.

What he did think was strange was hearing footsteps and blows, which had a very peculiar resemblance to the rhythm of music.

In a corridor somewhat away from the common area, which led to a small meeting room and greater tranquility, you were there with the music blasting and dancing as if you were the owner of the place.

Don't get me wrong, Silver was 1000% okay with you dancing in his dorm, even if you wanted to do it on a table in the middle of the lounge room… be his guest.

What he couldn’t allow was his roommates seeing you so… free, sure of yourself, indisputably if you were wearing sports clothes or little clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And if Malleus was among those people… ufff, a big no from our silver boy.

He would go to where you were and lift you by the legs, placing you on his shoulder and commenting that you could continue your dance in a more private place.

That place was his room.

"The way you dance is ... intoxicating"

If at any time the brilliant idea of approaching Silver occurs to you while you dance, take it for granted that he will grab you in his arms and throw you on the bed.

Nope, he's not going to let you finish the choreography. He has another type of choreography in mind.

Lilia put up a do not disturb sign on the other side of the door, proud to see his son a grown-up… apart from the fact that he would have a little “chat” with him immediately after the deed it doesn't matter if you’re still naked and pathetically covered with sheet, he would just *pufff*

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #cater diamond #cater x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #jack x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #epel felmier #epel x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #silver #silver x reader #silver twst

233 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

Text

Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #caitsy and ash productions

456 notes · View notes

fa-headhoncho · 4 years ago

Text

Crucio

Eventual George Weasley x Reader

Prompt: Sixth year starts off with a new professor

Word Count: 1833

Reader: Female

Warning: I’m back?

Masterlist Series Masterlist

=====

The class goes silent as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walks into the room. You’ve heard stories from your father about Alastor Moody, one of the most famous Aurors of all time. He killed and captured Death Eaters and sent them to Azkaban. He’s been retired for years but you’re sure his skills are still up to par.

“... I’m sure some of you have heard of me.” Professor Moody says as if he’s reading your mind. “When it comes to the Dark Arts, I prefer a practical approach to the teaching,” He takes a once-over of the room, taking in all of his students' faces. He stops when he lands on you.

You feel his eyes burning into your soul but you don’t break eye contact. George shifts awkwardly beside you, not understanding what’s going on. You know Moody has a history with your father, you’ve heard all the stories relating to your dad’s involvement with the Dark Arts. At this point, you believe them all.

The professor takes his eyes off you then turns to the chalkboard behind him, “We will be reviewing some material, as I do believe it is important as of now.” He starts writing in messy script, “Now who can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?”

No one raises their hand, too scared to answer. The recent events of the World Cup were still fresh in everyone’s minds and no one wanted to take the jump. He side-eyes the class, waiting for a response.

“Did none of yous learn this or what?” You didn’t, before Moody was here, sixth years were supposed to start learning it but he seems to have changed the curriculum… just like every other teacher in years past.

“Three, Professor.” You speak up. Over the years, you started to research DADA subjects since the teachers never seemed to know what they were doing. The only break you got was last year with Professor Lupin but it was short-lived. “They are deemed unforgivable because of the effects of the curses and if performed on a human, you will be sent to Azkaban.”

There was a tense silence building as he jots down the information, the chalk scraping against the board echoed throughout the classroom. He finally turns around, one eye landing on you as the other scans the class.

George watches as you straighten your back and your expression becomes stone cold. It was obvious that the mad man recognized you and thought it was necessary to keep watch on you. It was frustrating, to say the least. Every year you had to put up this facade, trying to prove yourself to every new professor that walks down those cursed stairs.

It makes George frown, he wishes you could take one moment to relax. He has to hold himself back from reaching out and rubbing comforting circles on your back. The ginger lets out a sigh, resting back in his chair and slinging an arm on the back of yours. He lets his mind wander as Moody continues with the lesson, getting into the history of the curses.

Slyly, he starts drawing little designs on your back to try to release some of the tension built up in your shoulders. A little smile appears on his face as it works.

The whole class watches Moody walk across the class, grabbing a box and moving to the table in front of all his students. He then dramatically slams the box causing a few students to flinch in their seats. George’s daze is broken and his hand flies back to his side noticing his glass eye was on the two of you again.

A sick smirk appears on the Auror’s face as the other eye slowly follows. “Miss Malfoy, would you move to the front of the class?” He commands and your heart drops to your ass.

George and you share a look before you stand up. All eyes were on you as you walk down the aisle. Fred and Lee catch your eye and give you an encouraging smile making you grip your wand even harder.

Once you reach his demonstration table, he gestures you to face the class. You feel your hands start to sweat and your heartbeat pick up.

Moody takes notice of your nervousness and directs everyone’s attention to the box, sliding it open to reveal what’s inside. Some cringe as the spider crawls out of its wooden cell. The eight-legged creature walks around the table, taking in its new surroundings.

“This is a spider.” He announces, holding his hand out for the arachnid to crawl up it. From the back of the room, you can hear Fred snort at his discovery. He pays no mind to it and continues talking, “Could you list the unforgivable curses again?”

You gulp and stare at his hand, “Cruciatus, Imperius, and the Killing curse, sir.” You whisper out, you had an idea where this was going and you didn’t like being in front of the whole class as it happens. Moody had no mercy during his time as an Auror and it was no question that it was going to translate over in his teaching.

He nods then carefully sets the spider on your shoulder causing you to suck in some air. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself, you knew what he was doing and you weren’t about to let him use you as a demonstration in front of everyone. Luckily, during the years of helping Hagrid down at his hut, you met his huge friend Aragog and its hundreds of children.

You finally open your eyes and see Moody standing on the other side of the classroom, his arms laying across his chest as he watches you intently. “Take the spider off.” You immediately move to grab it but he stops you, “Using one of the curses.” He specifies which sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your bottom lip and look at George who is a few seats away from the teacher. He gives you a solemn look since he knew how you felt about the curses. The Auror knew what he was doing. But if you weren’t going to listen to him, there would most likely be consequences and you didn’t want to find out what punishments he could come up with.

“Imperio.” You mutter out, pointing your want to the harmless creature. Carefully, you pull it out of your hair and hold it out in front of you.

“During the Dark Lord’s reign, he used that curse to make people do his bidding. Taking control over their mind to do dark things.” The professor explains, “Some of his followers even used it as an excuse when they in court, begging for their life.” He announces, making sure to make eye contact with you. You knew your father used the excuse to get away with his wrongdoings after the Dark Lord was defeated.

“Some wizards were able to fight it, though.” He continues while the class watches in anticipation as the spider hangs patiently in the air. “Now, Miss Malfoy, demonstrate what he did when they didn’t listen.”

You let out a scoff, it echoing through the silent classroom. “Respectfully, sir, I’m not going to--”

“Do it, Malfoy.” He sneers, slamming his cane into the floor. The two of you stare at each other, glaring at him and trying to silently tell him that you didn’t feel comfortable doing that but he wasn’t backing down.

Turning your attention back at the creature, you spin it to look at you. You give it a soft look, quietly apologizing to it before you were forced to torture it. “Crucio.” You mutter out through clenched teeth sending the arachnid to let out a high-pitched squeal.

The class watches in horror as the spider curls up on the table and whines for its life, just as the professor said the humans did. Moody watches with a sinister smile on his face while you hold back your tears. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to do to a living thing but here you were, in front of your fellow classmates torturing an innocent little spider.

“Finish it off.” Moody pushes, George and Fred’s heads snap to one another. They share a look before looking back towards you, wondering if you were actually going to listen to the teacher. They were shocked that you went even as far as the Cruciatus so they didn’t know what to expect from you now.

Letting out a shaky breath, you stare down at its little legs folding into its body. There was some part of you that wanted to prove yourself to the professor since he was such a legend but you knew this wasn’t the way. The students wait for you to make the next move.

“What, are your ears not workin’?” Moody spits out, “finish off the little vermin.”

The whining suddenly stops causing you to let out a sigh of relief. The Auror stands there, a small smile on his face. There was an eerie silence in the classroom as the students try to process what you just did.

“I can’t believe she did it.” You hear someone whisper to their partner causing you to snap your gaze towards the voice. The Ravenclaw flinches at the sudden movement, you open your mouth to explain what you did but no words come out. You scan over your classmates, the fear in their eyes was evident.

No one had to voice their thoughts as you already knew what was running through their heads. The room felt like it was crashing down on you, the air from your lungs being sucked out. It felt like you were back in second year, the judgemental eyes making assumptions of you. Feeling the tears starting to fall, you rush out of the room.

Reality seems to snap back when the slam of the door alerts everyone. Everyone bursts into conversation about what just happened in front of them as Moody makes his way to the table. The twins watch as he pokes the spider with his wand, it not moving. George goes to stand up from his chair to follow you out but is cut off by the spider jumping up from its position.

The ginger visibly relaxes, realizing that you just used a silent body-binding curse for it to appear that you killed the spider. He sits back down in his chair and a smile tugs at his lips, proud that you didn’t allow the Professor to push you past your beliefs.

Moody’s mouth opens slightly, surprised that you were able to do an indication without muttering a word. “That sly girl.” He whispers out while the class goes into a different frenzy. It shocked him that you were able to do something most graduated wizards couldn’t. You were smart, it was obvious, and it lit a sick curiosity in the back of his head.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #Weasley twins imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hp

179 notes · View notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Text

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

hookingminor · 4 years ago

Text

three lessons - mat barzal

a/n: new series idea I just had, spoiler there is filth and the next parts will be as well also im not the best at writing smut so you’ll have to bear with me here. anyway! let me know what you think! comments/thoughts are always appreciated! also, I know it briefly mentions being the younger sister of a teammate, but I know nothing about the isles so its literally just for plot purposes don’t expect much from that and this isn’t proofread sorry

word count: 4.2k

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, so you hit up Mat to help you with your problem and strike a deal

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

PART TWO

This was by far the worst idea you’ve ever had.

In your twenty-one years of life, you’ve never had a worse idea. Your initial plan was crazy in and of itself, but adding Mat to the mix? It’s like you were asking to get your ass kicked.

The original thought came to you a year ago when you were sitting on the couch of your friend’s apartment, four glasses of wine into the night. She was complaining about her latest hookup, raging over the fact that he didn’t know where the clit was.

This is how it usually went between you two.

She was the one who got all the guys, the one who could pick up anyone from the bar and spend the night in a stranger’s bed without a second thought. You, however, were the wingwoman, the person who was left behind when your friend eventually decided to leave with a man.

It didn’t bother you that much. It’s not like you felt like you needed a boyfriend, you were secure in almost all aspects of your life, but the nagging thought in the back of your mind kept saying that you needed to get fucked. And soon.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream or the fact that you hadn’t masturbated in nearly two weeks, but you rolled your eyes at your friend before you finally snapped.

“At least you’ve had someone to fuck the past few months! Be grateful you’re not me and still a virgin at twenty!” You shouted, fed up with hearing stories about how your friend’s sex life was so terrible. At least she had a sex life to begin with.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you apologized quickly, bringing your hand to cover your mouth in shock, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s hard listening to you talk about this when I can’t contribute to the conversation.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry for always talking about it,” your friend said, eyes softening when she heard how regretful you sounded, “How about we change the subject?”

She didn’t wait for your response before launching into a monologue about how classes were going and her upcoming finals. You tried listening to her, but your mind was still stuck on the previous topic. Of course it was unfortunate that you happened to be twenty and with no sexual experience, but it didn’t bother you before like it was bothering you right now.

Ideas began racing through your head of how you could rectify this, and that’s when the seed was planted.

Now, almost a year later, your carefully thought out plan was almost complete; though, ‘carefully’ could be more loosely translated to ‘reckless.’

You paced outside of Mat’s door, walking back and forth as you fiddled with your hands, working up the courage to knock. This was such a bad idea. You brought your hand up to the door, pausing before your fist made contact before bringing it back down and resuming your pacing.

After another five minutes of deep contemplation, you made your decision. You knocked on the door before you could second guess yourself, now bringing your hands to tug at the strands of your hair.

The few seconds it took for Mat to answer the door felt like a lifetime, and when he opened the door, you were met with a confused look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, peeking his head out of the door to glance down the hallway.

“Hi, I know you weren’t expecting me and you have to leave for practice soon, but I needed to talk to you about something,” you explained quickly.

Mat’s brows stayed furrowed in confusion, but he opened the door further to let you inside.

“Firstly, I just wanted to say that Anders doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d really appreciate it if you never mentioned it to him,” you said as he closed the door behind you.

Mat ushered you into his living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch as he crossed his arms and waited for you to continue.

“This is going to sound absolutely crazy and you’re probably going to reject me but just hear me out,” you said, taking a deep sigh. He was totally going to shut you down, but there was no turning back now.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d have sex with me. You’d be doing me a favor as my friend. I’m kind of… a virgin… and I really don’t want to be anymore,” you took a breath to watch his reaction which was unreadable, “You’re probably thinking it’s a terrible idea, being that I’m Anders’s sister and everything, but I promise I won’t say anything to him. I just want to get a little experience under my belt… it’s kind of embarrassing. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you’d give me a few lessons or something.”

You raised your eyes to meet Mat’s as you finished your rant, worrying about what he was going to say. A long silence fell between you two as he processed what you said.

“Uh… I don’t really know what to say,” he started awkwardly, bringing his hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I’m honored, I guess? That you asked me to help, but I’m just a little confused since we don’t really know each other.”

Okay, you could give him that. It was true that you weren’t the closest of friends, but you’d met on a handful occasions. It’s not like you were complete strangers, but other than knowing what you were studying in school and that you were Anders’s much younger sister, he didn’t know much about you.

“That’s fair,” you said, “I asked you because, well, you’re obviously hot which I’m sure you know. Also, not knowing each other is what makes this perfect. I’m not attached to you in any way and vice versa. Honestly? You’re one of the few guys in town that I feel comfortable around, so it was either ask you or find a random Tinder hookup and have to do this speech all over again but ten times as awkward.”

Mat didn’t like the last part of that explanation: the whole ‘random Tinder hookup to take your virginity’ part. He may not have known you that well, but he knew you were a nice girl and deserved to be more than just a notch on the bedpost of someone who didn’t care about you.

“I know you’re probably thinking I’m insane, and I get it. I felt a little insane when I thought about this too. But I really feel like you’re the best option. I understand if you think it’s too weird, though,” you said when he hadn’t replied. Your eyes watched him as he sat still as a rock across from you.

“I… I have to leave for practice soon,” was the only thing he responded with.

You felt your heart drop at his statement. Of course he was going to say no, you were an idiot for even trying.

“Yeah, totally, I’ll get going,” you said quickly, gathering your stuff and making your way to the entrance.

When you reached the door, you turned back one last time to see him still in the same position.

“Can you not tell Anders, please? I know this was a crazy, stupid idea but… just don’t tell him, okay? He doesn’t need to know about my sex… well, lack of sex life,” you added before shutting the door behind you.

Mat had lost his mind.

Truly and honestly, he had lost his mind if he was even considering your proposition. Which he was. He was really considering your proposition, and he wanted to punch himself for it.

He couldn’t possibly agree to this, could he? You were the captain’s younger sister. Sure, you two weren’t the closest of siblings, but the code still applied. And the code clearly said he was not allowed to fraternize with relatives of his teammates in any way. He hadn’t broken this rule yet, and he couldn’t believe he was even thinking about breaking it now.

Inside his head, he weighed the pros and the cons of sleeping with you. Well, teaching you would be a better phrase. If Mat was being honest, he had blacked out after the terms ‘virgin’ and ‘have sex with me’ fell from your lips. He watched you from his spot on the couch, his eyes following your mouth but not processing the words you were saying. Truthfully, he ran over the conversation a million times in his head and he wasn’t sure he was actually processing them now.

You wanted him to take your virginity. You wanted him to give you experience. You called them lessons.

You were, quite literally, asking him to be your sex tutor.

When you left the apartment, he did what he did best. He compartmentalized. Instead of thinking about the awkward conversation he just had with you, he pushed all thoughts of you from his mind and went to practice. For a whole three hours he focused on hockey. He even had the courage to look at his captain despite the weird interaction he’d just had with his sister.

But then practice was over, and Mat was left with nothing to do but think about what you said. Thinking turned into contemplating, and contemplating eventually turned into pulling up your Instagram page.

Mat typed and retyped the message a million times, deleting it before he could accidentally pressed send. He went back and forth between wanting to say yes and throwing his phone as far away from him so he wouldn’t be tempted.

What could be the worst thing that happened? He thought.

A million bad things could happen. He knew this deep in his heart that it was, for all intents and purposes, the worst idea ever to teach his captain’s sister how to have sex, but his head and desire to get laid had other plans.

So, he picked up his phone one last time and composed the same message he’d written a hundred times.

to @yourusername: does your offer still stand? text me 212-203-3849

For the second time in a week, you were pacing outside of Mat’s apartment. You’d received his message almost six days ago, and now here you were.

Your chest nearly collapsed with relief when you’d seen he wanted to take you up on your offer. And then your stomach filled with butterflies, nerves wracking your body as you now had an official plan to lose your virginity.

You eagerly liked the message, dialing his number in your phone so you could hash out the details over text. He promised you two would go over some ground rules in person, saying it felt too weird to have a written contract or something over text. You agreed to his plans and set a date to go over to his apartment that following weekend.

Feeling more courageous than you did a week ago, you knocked on the door with confidence this time. If you were going to lose your virginity tonight, you weren’t going to look like a frightened kitten when you did.

Mat greeted you with a warm smile this time, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. Same as last time, he ushered you into his apartment and directed you towards his couch.

“Do you want anything to drink? I was about to open a bottle of wine,” Mat asked, already moving to the kitchen.

“Yeah, wine would be great. Thanks,” you replied, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

Mat tinkered around in the kitchen for a couple minutes before he joined you, handing you a glass of red. You took a long sip as he settled down, hoping the wine would work fast to calm your nerves.

“So, what did you want to discuss first?” He asked after a moment.

“Well, we should probably have some ground rules. I was thinking that since you’re the expert and all, you should decide how these lessons go. Oh, and I think that we should keep this to a three-time thing. Anything more than that will probably get more complicated,” you answered with ease. Not to say you had spent the past week thinking about what you were going to say, but you definitely did.

Mat nodded in agreement at your suggestions before adding his own.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Also, we can’t tell anyone about this because, you know, your brother and the team and all,” he said. You hummed in response, that much was a given. No one could know about this.

“So, where do we start? Should I take off my clothes or?” You asked.

“No,” he said with a chuckle, “We’re going to watch a movie.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. For now at least.”

You hadn’t known what you were expecting, but it was not a cuddle session on his couch. You imagined that maybe he would’ve just ripped your clothes off the minute you walked in to get down to business, but he was being way more casual than you were feeling. Which was probably a good thing because your heart was beating a thousand beats a minute, so at least one of you had this situation under control.

Mat had told you to dress comfortably as he didn’t plan on leaving the apartment, and he was dressed in a similar fashion as you: gray sweatpants with a dark blue t-shirt. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and a shirt from your college before leaving, making sure to wear at least a nice bralette and pair of panties underneath.

He drank down the rest of his wine before adjusting himself on the couch, moving into a position where he was laying down. Grabbing the blanket folded on the back cushion, he spread it out over his body before patting the spot in front of him. Normally, you would’ve been intimidated by a bold move like this, but the wide smile on his face indicated that he was perfectly comfortable right now, and his ease surrounded you in waves.

Slamming back the rest of your wine, you lay down in front of him, tucking your body against his while his arms pulled your chest closer.

“Anything specific you want to watch?” He asked, using his free hand to grab the remote. You muttered a quiet ‘no,’ allowing him to go ahead and choose. Mat scrolled through the Netflix options before settling on a new action movie.

“So, how much experience do you have exactly?” Mat asked once the introduction credits had finished. It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at you because your face heated up in embarrassment.

“I’ve only ever got as far as making out,” you muttered.

“No one’s ever touched you then?” He prodded.

“No,” you replied, your cheeks on fire. You couldn’t see him, but Mat nodded in response against the back of your head, letting out a quiet ‘okay.’

It wasn’t the first time Mat had been with a virgin, but that hadn’t been since high school and when he also wasn’t that experienced himself. Mat decided to let the movie play for a little bit longer before making his first move.

That time came when there was a particularly slow scene on. Slowly, he lifted up the hem of your t-shirt and slid his hand underneath, tracing small circles on the skin of your stomach. You clenched your thighs together as a warm feeling started to spread throughout your body.

It was happening.

Mat kept his hands there for a few minutes, inching up so slowly you almost couldn’t tell he’d moved at all. When the initial shock of his touch settled, you tried to refocus your attention to the movie.

Another ten minutes passed before Mat made his next move. Almost imperceptibly, he used his elbow to push his torso up before he brushed the hair covering your neck to the side. You felt his fingertips brush your ear, a shiver running up your spine. He brought his lips to your neck a split second later, placing a soft kiss against it.

Your eyes briefly shut for a second, reveling in the fact that Mat’s lips were on your neck. He kissed around your jaw a couple times before the hand on his stomach was shifting you to rest on your back. Your body followed his lead and your eyes met his hazel ones before he was leaning in to kiss your lips.

A heat unfurled in your body the second your lips connected and you eagerly moved yours against his. One of Mat’s hands had moved to the back of your neck to tilt your head at a better angle, the other hand moving further up under your shirt to rest just below your bra clasp. Your body involuntarily arched up into his hands as his tongue slipped out to part your lips. You opened your mouth and his tongue entered immediately, tangling with yours. You and Mat lay on the couch for a good while, making out heavily before you eventually had to break it for air.

“At least you don’t have to worry about kissing. You’re a natural,” Mat commended with an airy chuckle, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his compliment.

Mat’s smile brightened at your laugh before he leaned back in, the heat building in your body at double speed. You knew you were attracted to him, but you didn’t think he would be able to wind you up this fast. Or maybe it was just because you’ve never had a man touch you like this before.

Breaking the kiss, Mat began to trail more kisses down your body, pausing near your collarbone when he heard a particular breathy gasp leave your mouth. Mat continued his path over your shirt until he reached your belly button.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, looking up at you.

“You can take mine off if you take yours off,” you replied with a seductive smirk. Mat pulled back from your body, matching your smirk with one of his own as he tore off his shirt. Less than a second later, he was tugging at the hem of yours, urging you to sit up so he could take it off.

Mat’s hands were back on your body right after he tossed your shirt on the floor. This time, he retraced his path down your torso with his mouth and tongue, leaving no patch of skin untouched. His fingers danced around the edge of your leggings, teasing you until you were lifting up your hips into his face.

“Please take them off, Mat,” you said through gasps, wanting nothing more than to be rid of your clothing. He chuckled lightly against your waistband, his nose tickling your abdomen before he began shimmying off your leggings.

Tilting your hips up, you helped him slide the pants down your legs along with your underwear. Though your cheeks flamed up at the thought of being exposed before Mat, you felt oddly calm (well, as calm as you can be given the circumstances) with him.

“Holy shit, baby. You’re soaked,” Mat noted with a deep groan. He shuffled his body further down the couch into a comfortable position, lifting one leg to hook over his shoulder.

You breathed in shaky breaths as Mat placed gentle kisses on your thighs, working upwards slowly until he reached your core. And when he used his tongue to lick a strip across your pussy, your back arched into the air as you let out a loud moan.

“You gotta stay still, Y/N,” Mat chuckled darkly, wrapping one hand to steady your middle.

“Sorry, never done this before,” you replied in gasps.

Now immobilized, Mat resumed his place between your legs, repeating the same series of licks before he closed his lips around your clit. He flicked his tongue across the sensitive area. God, you would have done this a long time ago if you knew it would feel this good. You weren’t sure if it was too early to feel the heat inside you build up this quickly or if Mat was just too good at this. You hoped it was the latter.

His tongue lapped at your folds, and your hands flew down to grasp his hair in need. You didn’t think you could moan any louder, but then he brought his thumb to your clit to rub in tight circles as his tongue teased your entrance.

“Holy fuck,” you whined out, canting your hips up as much as you could. You could feel his smirk against your pussy at your exclamation, bringing his hand down to slowly enter a finger into you.

You let out a surprised gasp as you felt the first finger penetrate you. Mat kept his attention on your clit, lips sucking harshly at it. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, focusing on how good he was making you feel.

After a few thrusts of one finger, giving you plenty of time to adjust, he added a second, feeling your walls tighten around them. He moved both fingers in and out of you, alternating the pressure between your entrance and clit. Just when he hit the right spot inside you, your hand tugged on his hair tightly, and he took the hint to curl his fingers against that spot.

“I’m so close, Mat,” you moaned, tossing your head back into the pillow.

“What do you need, baby?” He asked, pulling back for a quick breath. You glanced down to meet his gaze, taking in the way his chin glistened from your pussy. The view made you moan lowly, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“Your tongue, please,” you begged quietly.

Mat heard the words leave your mouth and nestled his face back between your legs, tongue sliding up your slit in response. In rhythm with stroking your g-spot, he sucked at your clit, and it was mere seconds before your body coiled tightly inside. He kept the same pace and before long, you felt yourself crest the peak and then fall.

Mat removed his fingers slowly from your entrance, his tongue licking softly at your folds until he felt your breathing return to normal. It took you a few seconds to regain your sense of self, stars still whirling in the corners of your vision. When you finally felt yourself grounded on Earth again, you opened your eyes to see a self-satisfied smirk on Mat’s face.

“You’re so hot when you come,” he said when you met his gaze, and had you not been riding high on cloud nine when he said this, you might have blushed in embarrassment. But you weren’t embarrassed right now. The only thing you felt was giddy. Giddy because you were one step closer to your end goal.

And while you were blissed out, you dropped your gaze to notice the extremely visible bulge tenting in his sweatpants. Focused on a new task, you sat up quickly before leaning over Mat’s body so you could return the favor. Your lips crashed against his in a frenzy, your hands clumsily reaching down to grasp his length. However, you only got to feel it for a second before Mat’s hand was tugging it away.

“Not tonight, babe. Tonight was about you,” Mat said with a strained voice, breaking the kiss to look at you.

“What do you mean? We’re not having sex tonight?” You asked in confusion, your head still a little hazy from the orgasm.

“No, we’re not,” he laughed, noticing the wantonness in your voice, “You said I’m in charge, right? This was already a lot for one night, so we’ll put off the sex until next time.”

You nodded your head, though you weren’t really understanding. It made sense. Tonight was a very big step for you, and he didn’t want to give you too much at once. But despite that, your pussy was begging for a repeat performance and you were so far gone you were willing to do just about anything Mat would say.

“What about you, though?” You asked, glancing down to the noticeable tent.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. We still have two more lessons. There’s plenty of time for that later,” he replied, though the bulge between you seemed to say otherwise.

“Promise you’re okay?” You insisted.

“I swear, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

A comfortable silence fell between you after that, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face. Your eyes sparkled with renewed purpose, and you felt satisfied for the first time in a long time. A smile of Mat’s own slowly appeared on his face as he watched you light up before him. Before you could stop yourself, you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

“Thank you, Mat. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You said happily, punctuating each ‘thank you’ with a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

When you pulled back to give him that award-winning smile again, Mat had one thought.

He was totally fucked.

#mat barzal #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #nhl smut #mat barzal imagine #my writing #isles13

770 notes · View notes