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poisonlove · 4 months

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Proposal | w.a

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" I ask incredulously to the brunette in front of me.

Wednesday rolls her eyes at my request and merely stares at me with her usual apathetic gaze. We were sort of friends... well, I'm not entirely sure, given that a couple of times she told me she could barely stand me and refrained from taking my life due to my bright and optimistic attitude. Nevertheless, I enjoyed spending time with her.

"You know I hate repeating things," she says, maintaining a neutral tone, "but... I asked if you can pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents," she repeats, batting her lashes. "So, I didn't mishear," I murmur under my breath, and the long-braided girl rolls her eyes at my comment.

Wednesday and I are completely different: she's black, I'm white; night and day; yin and yang. My reaction is entirely justified! How can two people so different be together? Despite these internal questions, a part of me has been waiting for this proposal for a long time. Even though the gothic girl wasn't programmed for relationships, my heart couldn't help but beat faster for her over time. Wednesday remains unsettling, and her tastes are truly unique, but despite everything, talking to her is pleasant, and I adore the way she treats me.

In the end, the little brat cares about me.

"So?" she asks impatiently, and I blink, diverting my attention from my thoughts. "Why? Why do you want to pretend in front of your parents?" I inquire with curiosity, and Wednesday crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me seriously.

Wednesday sighs, lowering her head towards the floor, averting her gaze from mine. "You know I hate the human race, right?" she rhetorically asks, and I nod, attentively watching the gothic girl. "I don't want my family to know that I still feel this hatred. I want them to believe that I have social interactions," she says, almost with shyness in her whisper. "And besides, they already know you," she adds absentmindedly.

Analyzing her words, I smile widely with mischief. "You want your parents to believe that you're like them... Do you care about their opinion!" I say with emotion, approaching Wednesday more. I wrap my arms around her waist, catching the brunette off guard, and hug her tightly against my chest. "Y/n," she warns, her voice lowering dangerously. Seeing that I don't let go of her, Wednesday sighs heavily before tentatively reciprocating the hug, making me triumphantly smile.

"See? You've taken steps forward! You can endure hugs," I say, smiling widely.

Wednesday loosens herself from my arms and sighs heavily. "I can tolerate touching you for a few minutes before my homicidal instinct acts on its own," she says absentmindedly, tightening her grip.

Okay, her arms were around my neck, and I wasn't exactly sure if Wednesday was being serious. I loosen my hold on her body and step back, observing her brown eyes completely unreadable. "Alright," I say smiling slightly and Wednesday lifts the corners of her lips simulating a smile.

"Perfect," she declares, immediately wiping the smile from her face. The gothic girl walks towards her desk and sits in front of her typewriter, leaving me stunned. "Is that all?" I ask incredulously and Wednesday turns her head towards me looking at me seriously. "Yes. Now go, I need to write. See you tomorrow morning at the entrance, don't be late," she says with a neutral tone returning to her writing.

The sound of her fingers pounding on the keyboard fills the room, and I'm left staring at Wednesday Addams. "Stop looking at me, it's irritating," she says, sighing loudly. "Go away," she repeats and I smile unconsciously at her words. In the particular language of the Addams, stop looking at me seems to translate to if you look at me, I get distracted and can't continue writing and i have to talk to you

Exiting Ophelia Hall, I run into Enid returning from her date. "Everything okay with Ajax?" I ask with curiosity and the blonde laughs happily, nodding.

"And you? Has Wednesday already grown tired of you?" she says smiling and I nod my head, my enthusiasm slipping away.

"You know she likes you... she's just slow in these things," Enid encourages me and I smile with sadness. "Yeah..." I say doubtfully and sigh loudly. "I'm going to my dorm, goodnight," I say to Enid, who looks at me with sadness before walking towards her room.

(...)

"Good morning," I say with enthusiasm as I see Wednesday Addams waiting for me at the entrance of Nevermore Academy. The gothic girl looks at me impatiently.

"You're late," Wednesday says, looking at me seriously, arms crossed. "Sorry... Yoko didn't wake me up," I justify, and the brunette shoots me a glare. I unconsciously smile, seeing the tension in Wednesday's shoulders, her coffee-colored eyes brimming with irritation. "The usual silly vampire," she mutters softly, and I glance at the brunette, suppressing a knowing smile at her jealous outburst.

"Y/n!" I turn towards the voice and see the mentioned girl running towards me, holding my hoodie. "Yoko," I smile at the vampire, immediately feeling a piercing gaze behind my back. "You forgot your hoodie; thanks for lending it to me," she says, smiling widely and revealing her fangs.

"Thanks," I take the hoodie, and with the corner of my eye, I see Wednesday continuing to stare at us with irritation.

I walk back towards Wednesday, and she scrutinizes me with her eyes, shining with jealousy. "Did you lend her your hoodie?" she unconsciously asks, and I nod without any issue. "Good," Wednesday rolls her eyes and walks out of the iron gate, leaving me stunned and standing alone.

Every time Wednesday saw me with Yoko, she became impatient and stared at us with irritation, unable to avoid feeling uncomfortable. I knew Wednesday's jealousy was entirely different from romance; the gothic girl had confessed that I'm her only friend, not counting Enid, and Wednesday doesn't like sharing her things.

"Hey!" I chase after Wednesday, and the girl continues to walk with her classic elegant yet serious pace. "Wait," I shout at the gothic girl, and she stops, sighing loudly. "Move," she says irritably, and I roll my eyes at her childish behavior.

The Addams family's car appears before our eyes, sending a shiver down my spine. "So, shall we go in?" Wednesday Addams says, opening the car door and inviting me to get inside the vintage car. Lurch watches us from the central mirror, and his eyes make me uneasy.

Wednesday's hand delicately takes mine, and my eyes shift downwards. My heart races against my chest. The gothic girl's skin is pale and cold to the touch, but it's a pleasant sensation. Wednesday holds my hand in a peculiar way, loosely against mine, with a stiff wrist, as if she doesn't know how to hold hands.

Lurch looks away from the mirror and starts the car. "What are you doing?" I whisper as soon as the partition rises between us, and Wednesday quickly lets go of my hand. "We need to start the plan; play along," she apologizes with an authoritative and cold tone, surprising me.

"Well..." I say hesitantly, looking out of the car window. The landscape outside is shrouded in an eerie atmosphere, with a dense, dark-leafed forest standing against a twilight sky. The air is thick with mystery, and the road winding through the forest seems to lead to unknown places.

The car stops, and I, with a puzzled look, glance around. "We've arrived," announces Wednesday, quickly getting out of the car, and I follow suit.

The Addams' house stands imposingly before us, a Gothic mansion wrapped in an aura of dark elegance. Sharp spires pierce the sky, while intertwined vines give it an even more sinister appearance. The windows are adorned with heavy curtains and stained glass that seems to hide dark secrets within.

A sense of unease envelops the surrounding atmosphere, but at the same time, there's something fascinating in the decadent majesty of the Addams' abode. With uncertain steps, I approach the main door, ready to immerse myself in the enigmatic world of this unique family.

Wednesday rings the doorbell.

The gothic girl firmly grabs my hand again. "Calm down and act like a real girlfriend, or I'll kill you," she whispers in a low voice, her gaze fixed on the imposing door of the Addams' house.

The tension in the air is palpable, and when the door opens slowly, Mr. Addams, a man of imposing figure and mysterious air, appears behind it. His mischievous smile widens upon seeing his daughter Wednesday hand in hand with me.

"Stormcloud!" Gomez opens his arms, expecting a hug from his daughter. However, Wednesday looks at him with confusion, remaining fixed in place, not responding to the expected embrace.

"Darling! Our terror is home!" Gomez Addams exclaims with a playful smile, revealing the family's peculiar sense of humor.

At that moment, the house door opens elegantly, revealing the dark and fascinating figure of Morticia Addams. Her presence is shrouded in an aura of mystery and grace, with her long black hair and the form-fitting dress that emphasizes her sinister elegance.

"Welcome, my treasures," Morticia murmurs, her calm and measured voice adding a touch of seduction to the atmosphere. Her gaze, penetrating and magnetic, traverses the foyer as she observes the two of us with interest. A smile spreads across her lips upon seeing our intertwined hands.

"Our little one brought home a guest," announces Mr. Addams, and Morticia smiles slightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, y/n," she says, addressing me with a slight bow.

I met the Addams family at Nevermore, and it was the first time I saw their house.

"The pleasure is mine," I say with a smile on my lips. A guttural sound echoes behind us, and when I turn, I see Lurch walking strangely towards us, holding my hoodie.

Without saying anything, Wednesday takes the hoodie and wraps it around her waist. "Don't say anything," she whispers, tightening her grip on my hand, and I nervously smile. Lurch takes off his hat and mutters something incomprehensible before entering the house. "Thanks," I say, smiling widely and leaning towards Wednesday.

I had to play the role of a girlfriend, right? So, I had to thank her appropriately. I unconsciously smile as my lips touch her pale cheek. Sensing a strange movement near her, Wednesday turns towards me, looking at me seriously. Instead of a simple thank-you, my lips collide abruptly with hers. I immediately sigh at the contact with her soft lips.

Wednesday stiffens at the touch but shows no sign of rejection. The gothic girl extends her hand, intertwining her fingers around my neck, pulling me closer, our lips firmly attached.

I break the kiss and look at the family with embarrassment, Gomez smiling widely. My heart was pounding wildly, and shivers ran down my body, the ghost of the kiss still present on my lips. The kiss was fantastic, I must admit, and her lips were delightfully cold and plump, exactly as I had imagined them in my dreams.

Wednesday clenches her jaw and breaks the contact between our hands, entering the house. I was about to follow her when a hand gently grabs my arm. Mr. Addams looked at me, smiling but with a strange glint in his eyes. "You know how our family is, right?" he asks in a low voice. "Yes..." I say hesitantly, feeling a strange anxiety creeping in.

"If you dare to harm our little one, I swear I'll cut you into such small pieces that it will be impossible to find you," he threatens menacingly.

I nervously swallow saliva.

"Darling, don't scare our guest," Morticia intervenes with a small smile on her lips. "But the threat is real," she says before turning and walking towards the staircase, her husband following her with admiration.

"Well, I'm screwed," I say nervously, my eyes looking around with confusion, not exactly sure where the heck I should go.

Wednesday's Room

My eyes curiously scanned Wednesday's room: black curtains, a small guillotine, scattered weapons, and a canopy bed. I had the pleasure of meeting her little brother, Pugsley. The Addams boy had embraced Wednesday, begging her to play with him—games like burying him alive, shooting him with a crossbow, or tying him up somewhere.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, a strange silence enveloping us.

"Do you want to talk about the kiss?" I asked timidly, and Wednesday's shoulders tensed as she sat on the canopy bed. Her eyes looked at me with confusion, and with a slight nod of her head, she gestured for me to sit beside her.

I walked over with embarrassment and sat beside her.

"It was an accident," I confessed, feeling fear gradually grow in my body. Wednesday raised her head and looked at me attentively, her cold fingers touching mine.

"Okay," she said simply, her eyes looking at me in a strange way. "But we absolutely have to do it again, now," she said quickly, her eyes watching me closely. "I need to understand something," she added later, her eyes truly expressing curiosity.

I blinked in surprise and leaned towards her, shivering with excitement. Wednesday looked at me attentively and raised her chin, seeing how I was getting dangerously close to her face. I closed my eyes and bridged the gap between our lips, smiling at the moment of the long-awaited kiss. Wednesday melted at the contact and leaned further, her hands gripping my shirt with the urgency to eliminate every inch of distance between our lips. Wednesday sighed against my lips and tilted her head. With my tongue, I tapped her lower lip, shivering with pleasure as I felt the goth opening her mouth, letting me in.

Wednesday's hands tightened on my shirt, and then she pushed me away from her. I blinked incredulously, my eyes seeing her lips swollen from the kiss.

"What did you do to me? I like it," she said with confusion, pure panic in her eyes. "Nothing... maybe... you like me?" I asked rhetorically, and Wednesday turned her head abruptly in my direction.

"I don't feel anything beyond horror, disgust, and annoyance," she apologized, her tone completely irritated and cold. "I don't know, Wed..." I said tiredly as I looked at the goth. "I feel like insects are crawling on my stomach," she added, and I sighed at her words.

I quickly took her chin and kissed her abruptly, Wednesday sighing at the contact. "Do you like it when I kiss you?" I asked with curiosity, my heart beating recklessly. "Yes..." she affirmed coldly.

Wednesday leaned in, and our lips joined again. "And I want to do it again, your lips are delicious... and I want more," she confessed calmly, my cheeks blushing at her words.

"Do you like being with me? Does it bother you if I'm around you?" I asked with curiosity.

"Sometimes," she murmured weakly, her eyes looking at mine with concern.

"If I touch you..." I started, my hand resting on her arm, her muscles tensing at the contact. My fingers slid down her forearm, and Wednesday gradually relaxed, sighing as my fingers intertwined with hers.

"Does it bother you?" I concluded, and Wednesday shook her head.

"Do you like contact in general? Like, if Enid hugs you?" Wednesday raised an eyebrow with confusion and shivered at the thought, her lips curling in disgust.

"No," she confessed and tightened her grip on my hand.

"If I hug Yoko... does it bother you?" I asked, my eyes looking at the goth hopefully.

Wednesday Addams looked at me irritably and nodded.

"So, you're jealous," I said, smiling widely, and Wednesday looked at me with confusion.

"No, jealousy is for relationships," she confessed, and I sighed with frustration.

"All right... I've done the analysis... if you don't want to accept it, it's your problem," I got up from the mattress and walked towards the entrance of her room.

"Y/n," I turned at the sound of her monotonous voice and looked at her expectantly. "Can we keep kissing?" she asked innocently, her eyes looking at me with curiosity. A part of me wanted to refuse because I knew it would be my downfall, and I would suffer a lot, but my heart ardently desired contact with the goth.

"Okay," I said, smiling bitterly, and Wednesday nodded satisfactorily. "Can we do it... slowly? It's hard to assimilate," she continued, and I looked at her with surprise and confusion. "Slowly? Does that mean..." I started incredulously, a smile plastered on my lips.

"I want to discover my feelings with you," she confessed, and her eyes sparkled in a strange way, a dark desire mixing with her brown irises. "You're mine," she concluded, and my heart skipped a beat.

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literaila · 3 months

Text

emotions

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and megumi discuss how terrible satoru is

warnings: little spat between gojo and megumi, reader is the only sane one, lil fluff, and pining ofc

last part | next part

year three.

you're used to the door slamming open every day when they get home--and you've given up on scolding all of your family members about it--but what you're not used to is megumi storming through the door, his aura a dark and stormy color as he walks by you, not even bothering to look your way, and slamming the door to his room. all within a good three seconds.

and, okay. you blink, trying to comprehend him, or what just happened.

satoru comes in next, slower, more peaceful, shutting the front door softly like it'll make up for megumi's actions. for whatever he probably did.

you immediately turn towards him, frowning. "what'd you do?"

"why did i have to do something?" satoru asks, scoffing. "the kid is a glorified teenager. or an old man. he's moody."

"yeah, but he didn't even say hi to me," you cross your arms, trying to analyze his body language and the twitch of his lips.

satoru waves a hand at you. "join the club."

"seriously. is he okay?"

satoru kicks at the floor, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath.

"satoru."

he looks up, almost pouting.

"what happened?"

"i was just teasing him--" he's already pleading for mercy, taking a step towards you with his arms out. "i didn't even say anything bad. i just said something about his attitude, and he told me to leave him alone, and i... i didn't do anything!" he swears.

and you both know that he's lying. you sigh, shaking your head at him.

"did you listen when he told you to stop?"

"no," satoru says, with a fake smile.

"then you did something," you take a step away from him, watching as he slides off his jacket, then his glasses. "what were you teasing him about?"

"he was telling me about some kids at school. i guess they're scared of him, or something."

you raise a brow.

his hand gestures to megumi's room, helplessly. "you know him and i like to mess with each other, i didn't think that he would... get upset."

you almost laugh, because he looks so guilty, unknowing, and childish. and you can tell--by a mere glance--that satoru feels bad, and doesn't want to admit that.

you snort, still shaking your head. this man is the sole cause of all of your problems. "okay, well you should apologize to him, and listen when he asks you to do something--"

"no."

"excuse me?"

"will you talk to him instead?" he pleads, tilting his head at you. "you're so much better with him, and he'll listen to you."

"satoru," you frown. "i didn't do anything. megumi doesn't need an apology from me."

"but he's just going to yell at me," he whines, body flailing pathetically as he emphasizes this point. "and he's scary when he yells."

"he's nine."

satoru shakes his head.

you flick his forehead. "honestly, all you have to do is say that you were wrong. easy."

"i don't wanna say that," he mumbles, feebly, crossing his arms like a toddler.

you groan. "satoru--"

"i have to go pick up tsumiki anyway. please? just talk to him? do you really want him to sit in his room all alone and be all gloomy?"

satoru's lip twitches because he knows that he's got you there. just the idea of megumi brooding alone is enough to break you.

you scowl at him, crossing your arms with a knowing glance. "i'm going to let megumi punch you, and then i'm going to do it myself."

"we're not supposed to encourage violence."

you roll your eyes. "go get tsumiki. do not be late again. i'll see how he's feeling, but we're going to talk trash about you, just so you know."

"see? this is why i love you." satoru grins, then pecks your cheek. "okay, got to go! good luck," he says and swings himself out the door.

and honestly, how did you get stuck with him?

you give him a couple of minutes before you knock on the door, assuming that any space he has to cool off is probably good. but you can only wait so long.

there's a worry somewhere in your chest, the fear that you won't know how to mend the rift between the two boys. but the other part of you feels easy, simple.

kind of how you assume satoru feels about most things.

if you can't fix it, you think, he probably can.

"hey," you whisper, peeking into his room. the lights are off. "can i come in?"

megumi shrugs. he's sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, looking like a forlorn statue.

so you go in anyway, stepping over the backpack he threw on the floor and the books cascading out of it to sit next to him on his bed.

it's actually a little hard not to laugh because even though he's grumpy, megumi is so cute. his little scrunched-up eyebrows and his pout make you want to squeeze him forever. you want to coo over him, or say something inappropriate, but you refrain. because you are not satoru, and you will never be.

"how was school?" you ask, after you've settled in on his dinosaur sheets, watching him pick at something on his pants.

he shrugs again.

"wow. glowing remarks."

megumi doesn't even smirk a little.

you tilt your head, trying to meet his eyes. "do you want to talk?" you ask softly, trying so hard not to prod. even though you will.

"no."

you smile, a little. "too bad," you tell him, rolling your eyes for show, "you didn't say hello or give me my hug when you came in. talking is your punishment."

"sorry," he mumbles.

"i'll let it slide this time--only this time--okay, kid?" you give him a hard look and he nods immediately. you smile at him again, leaning up. "what happened with satoru?"

"nothing."

"unforunately for you, he's a gossip so..."

he rolls his eyes. "he was just being annoying."

"naturally. did he make you mad?"

megumi nods.

"did you tell him that?"

he shakes his head.

"okay. what'd you say when he started annoying you?"

"to stop."

"and then he didn't, so..." you hint, nudging him.

"i told him to leave me alone."

"what'd he say to that?"

megumi sighs. "he just said that i'm adorable when i'm mad."

because of course he would. satoru is probably the worst person in the world. the sole cultivator of everything terrible.

and, for some reason, you're kinda obsessed with him.

"yeah," you shake your head, grumbling internally. "i'd expect nothing less from him. i'm sorry he didn't listen, though."

megumi finally looks at you. "you are?"

you raise your brows. "well, yeah. if you want to be left alone, then he should leave you alone."

megumi looks at you skeptically. "you're not going to tell me that i shouldn't have gotten mad at him?"

"um," you frown. "no. you're entitled to your emotions, megs. you can feel whatever you want."

he frowns, too, but doesn't say anything. he's stuck somewhere you'll probably never reach.

but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "and satoru'll be getting a lecture from me, don't worry," megumi smiles a little at that, looking a little more like the boy you're used to. "but i just wanted to tell you that you can talk about it with me, if you want. nobody understands being angry with satoru like i do."

he looks away again. his fists clench, briefly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat. "i just--why doesn't he leave me alone? he always teases me, even when i'm trying to be serious, or when i tell him to stop."

you nod in agreement, letting the words sit for a moment. and then you say, "i think that satoru thinks if he never takes anything seriously, then the negative emotions and all of the things he doesn't want to think about won't matter to him. or as much."

"but they do matter."

"they do. and if he's irritating you, you should tell him that."

"i try."

your lip twitches. "satoru's not the easiest person to talk to. but he's a lot like you, you know? in that way."

megumi frowns. "how?"

"you don't really like to talk about these things do you?" you ask, seriously.

megumi thinks for a moment, fingers messing with the bedsheets, and then shakes his head, slowly, like he doesn't want to admit it.

"satoru doesn't like it either. and he feels things the same way you do--very deeply, and seriously. that's why he always messes around. and why he frustrates you." you stop, thinking about how to explain this to a kid. how to explain it to yourself. "well, you know how when there's only one melon soda left and you give it to tsumiki, or when you let her pick the movie?"

megumi nods.

"that's your way of putting her first. because you love her. but it's different then the way that she loves you, right?"

"yeah. she says it, a lot," he rolls his eyes, familiar with the antics of tsumiki.

you smile. "and she gives those hugs where she tries to crack your ribs," you emphasize it by squeezing his shoulder, making him laugh.

you swallow, shrugging. "you both show your love differently. everyone does. but tsumiki isn't afraid to let anyone know that she loves them, and satoru is, i think. and you're like that."

he looks down at his lap, contemplating this. satoru might think that you understand megumi better than he does, that the two of you are easy, but you feel like you're standing on uneven ground.

everything is so clear in your head. but you can't clarify the interworkings of someone as complicated as satoru for megumi. you can barely clarify him for yourself.

"i don't know if that's the right way to put it..." you sigh. "well, i like to talk things out. like right now. i want to talk about how i feel, and why. that's how i process everything. but satoru doesn't do that. usually, he'll refuse to." you nudge megumi. "and that's okay, sometimes. but i think he's taught you to do the same, on accident."

"that's not bad, though," he mutters, frowning.

"no, not all of the time. but it also means that his emotions come out in his actions. like teasing you, or when he tries to get all of us to sleep in his room."

megumi rolls his eyes again and you laugh.

"there's no bad way to show the people that you love that you love them, but when you don't talk about things, or you try not to show those emotions, they get stuck." you poke his chest. "and then they break out, like today, and it's too many feelings all at once."

megumi nods.

"so when he's annoying you, you have to tell him. or if you need a break from him, or me, or tsumiki, you should say that."

it's advice for all of you. some secret that you don't want megumi to know about--the part of you that's lying to him. the unspoken things you don't say--emotions buried so deep beneath your surface that they'll never see the sun.

you can see the thoughts as they pass over his face, still dark, still stormy, but lighter now.

eventually, he nods, meeting your eyes. "okay."

you give him a half smirk, leaning down just a little. "but you can't be mean about it, alright? i know today was hard, and satoru was pushing you, but it's still not okay to snap at him."

megumi curls in a little. "i'm sorry."

"i'm not mad, buddy," you assure him, ruffling his hair. "and neither is satoru. we're just here to help you, you know? but you have to let us in so we can. you can depend on us, i promise. and you have to be nice, because i can't deal with another satoru."

he laughs, just a little. you rest your head on his. "i'm here if you want to talk about it," you tell him, "today, or anything else that's bothering you."

"i know."

and you feel like he does, just a little bit. he's a very smart kid, and you know that when you leave he'll think about it some more--put it into words that work for him.

honestly, most of the time his intelligence frightens you--like you'll never be able to slow him down, or make sure that you're on the same page. but at least there's some use for it.

you sit up. "good. now i'm going to leave you alone, but when satoru gets home and he apologizes, try not to yell at him?" you plead, only partly joking. "he's sensitive."

megumi scowls, but nods anyway.

you stand up, nudging his leg with your foot and then you step back over the maze of his things, turning the doorknob.

"y/n?"

you turn back, brows raised. "yeah, bud?"

"do you want to... play cards, or something?"

and finally, you laugh. just a little.

"how'd it go?"

"megumi said that he didn't like my haircut, and that i needed to review my wardrobe situation."

"and?"

"he's okay."

you sigh out in relief. "good," you say, looking back down at the paperwork you're supposed to be filling out. the teaching courses, and jujutsu regulations, course handbooks, and bills...

satoru sits down next to you, looking over all of the papers with a frown. "this is disgusting," he says, nudging your hand away from the pen you're lingering on.

"true."

"take a break," he hooks his leg around yours. "let's talk."

you sigh again. "we really need to get this stuff done, satoru."

he shrugs. "we'll do it tomorrow."

"you said that yesterday, too."

"and i was right..."

but you relent, and you turn so that you're sitting facing him on the couch, your legs crossed in front of you.

"hey," he whispers, softly, grinning.

"hi."

"how was your day?"

"boring. all i did was clean the house and wait for you and the kids to get home."

he leans in, eyes crinkled. "can you imagine what your life would be like without me?"

"not even a little bit. you take up all of my time."

satoru smiles, adoringly. he leans his forehead against yours.

you want to push him away, or roll your eyes, or ask him more about his talk with megumi, or if he checked on tsumiki, but you don't.

you just let a small, tired smile rest upon your lips and close your eyes.

satoru is close enough to smell. his warmth is almost mechanical, unmoving. and everything about him feels sort of unbelievable. he's so close. close enough to touch and taste, if you were that daring.

but you're not.

"you okay?" you whisper to him, feeling his breath against your cupid's bow. you refrain a shiver.

"i'm good," he says, voice soft and low. "you okay?"

"i'm good."

satoru nods against you. there's a whole minute where the two of you sit just like that, no need for words or movements.

it's nice like this, you think. with him and nothing else. you don't get a break very often nowadays--and you don't mind it, really--but sitting with him is enough to not care. who needs a break when you've got your best friend, curled against you like a vice you'll never ever touch?

and then satoru asks, "do you think i mess with megumi too much?"

"yes," you say, immediately, opening your eyes to meet his glorious blue ones. satoru is pouting, so you continue. "but he loves you anyway."

just like i do, you think, so brief there's no time to push it away in your mind.

"yeah?"

"god knows why," you say, rolling your eyes, laughing when he bends down to tickle your neck with his nose, sniffing against you like a dog.

but you do know why. and the paperwork can wait until tomorrow.

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

Text

ⅷ▬ ⁽ 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, plot, alien/human, fluff, nim'xen is a simp, he falls first and then falls harder. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : no smut, but! a cute little unfinished one-shot of mine.

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: on the way home from the store, the unthinkable happens.

꒰male!alien ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“Breaking News: Massive Asteroid Comes Dangerously Close to Earth, Scientists Unaware Until Hours Later.

In a stunning turn of events, a colossal asteroid, previously known as ZTFoDxQ but now identified as Asteroid QG, narrowly missed colliding with Earth. The planet-sized asteroid made its closest-known approach to our planet on Sunday at 12:08 a.m. EDT, coming within a mere 1,830 miles. This remarkable event marks the closest asteroid flyby ever recorded, where the celestial object managed to survive the encounter unscathed, as confirmed by NASA.

However, the surprises didn't end there. Just this afternoon at 1:00 p.m., reports have emerged that a fragment of the asteroid has broken off and penetrated Earth's atmosphere. The exact location of impact is currently being evacuated as a precautionary measure.

Scientists are scrambling to analyze the data and understand how such a massive asteroid managed to come so close to Earth without being detected until hours later. The lack of awareness has raised concerns about the effectiveness of current asteroid detection systems and the potential risks posed by near-Earth objects.

NASA and other space agencies around the world are now working to improve their monitoring and detection capabilities to prevent similar surprises in the future. The incident has also sparked discussions about the need for increased funding and resources for asteroid detection and deflection efforts.

As the world watches in awe and relief at the near miss, the incident serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers lurking in space and the importance of continued vigilance in monitoring the skies for potential threats. Stay tuned for further updates on this developing story.”

3 months later

“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

Interrupting your peeling, you raised your eyes from the bowl of potatoes, freezing the peeler in your hand. You cast a frustrated glance at her, your annoyance thinly veiled behind a strained smile. You were already handling most of the cooking for the evening, so what more could she want from you?

Interpreting your insincere smile as a signal of agreement, she resumed her task of tending to the bubbling broth on the stove, deftly chopping the carrots and watching them plunge into the savory liquid with a satisfying plop. "Your sister's going on a trip tomorrow and I totally spaced on getting her food. She likes turkey right? I'll just throw together a sandwich for her."

A soft snicker escaped you as the peeler slipped from your hand and plunged into the water-filled bowl. You shifted your attention towards her, trying to decipher if she was genuinely serious or not. Yet, as you locked eyes with her, she responded with an arched eyebrow and an inquisitive grin.

"Jess has a poultry allergy, Mom."

The woman paused briefly, inhaling deeply to gather her thoughts. As she glanced up at you, she shifted her hip to the side. Her apologetic expression seemed somewhat contrived. "Of course, I should have remembered. I'm sorry, honey."

It was understandable that the woman might eventually forget. She wasn't the one who hurriedly took Jess to the hospital when she had her first experience with it, she wasn't the one who remained by the girl's side day and night, eagerly waiting for her to regain consciousness. But you were. You were Jess's first in everything. You had always been there for her, so it's only natural that the bond between the two of you grew strong. You knew all about her allergies, her preferences, her school crushes— you felt like more of a mother to her than her biological one.

"Whatever. I'll pack her lunch."

You swivel the chair and slide off of it. "The blue card, right?" As she nods her head absentmindedly, almost as if she's in a daze, you leave the kitchen with a frown etched on your face.

Snatching your keys from the hook, you hastily slide into your gym shoes, relieved that you hadn't bothered changing your clothes. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and shift your weight. "Jess! I'm going to the store, do you want anything?!" You delve into your mom's purse, sifting through the chaotic contents until you locate her wallet and retrieve the blue card food stamp card.

After a brief silence, her bedroom door swings open and she rushes towards the railing, a bright smile on her face. " Ice cream? Shark week came and I've been really craving strawberry ice cream." You give a nod and quickly retrieve your jacket from the closet. "Do you need any money for the trip tomorrow? I can take some out on my way back."

The young girl shakes her head, her eyes filled with adoration. You raise an eyebrow but still nod in understanding. Retrieving your phone from your pocket, you give it a gentle shake. "Text me if you need anything, but be quick about it." Without waiting for her response, you swiftly unlock the door and make your way onto the porch.

The sky is adorned with a delicate blend of pink and deep purple, gradually blending into the mysterious darkness of the night. A gentle breeze carries a subtle chill, but you embrace it without a word, wrapping your jacket tightly around your being. Swiftly, you navigate towards your vehicle, unlocking the door and sinking into the plush leather seat. A faint hint of smoke dances in the air, causing your nose to crinkle in response. Without hesitation, you lower the window, letting it air out.

As the smell dissipates you roll up the window and rub your hands together from the cold.

With a flick of a switch, the heat begins to flow, gradually filling the space and caressing your cheeks with a gentle warmth. The jacket you wear, once a shield against the chill, now threatens to make you feel almost too warm. With a contented smile, you leave the driveway behind and glide swiftly down the street, embraced by the cozy ambiance within.

As you embark on the drive, the radio remains silent, allowing your thoughts to drift away. Your thumb dances lightly on the steering wheel, lost in a world of its own. Deep down, you had already made up your mind to have Jess by your side once you left. There was no way your parents could take care of her, especially with what you've heard today.

Your job was well-paying and you had saved up to rent and secure a two-bedroom apartment at an astonishingly reasonable cost, despite its pristine condition. Nestled within a delightful community, the apartment stood conveniently close to Jess' school. Naturally, obtaining their consent would be imperative, yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly embark on a legal journey to assert your rights. Yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly them to court.

You wanted a better life for Jess, you wanted the rest of her remaining years of growth to unfold effortlessly. Your affection for her was so profound that witnessing her spiral, just as you had, while residing with your parents was simply inconceivable.

Startled by a gentle tap on your window, you were momentarily transported from the reverie you had been lost in while sitting in the Kroger's parking lot. Your mind had been wandering, lost in a sea of thoughts. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly shifted your gaze towards the source of the sound and cautiously opened the window, allowing a sliver of the outside world to seep in.

She was an elderly lady, much older than you, with a look of homelessness about her. Her shirt was stained and torn, her jeans in tatters, and her face covered in grime. You hesitated for a moment before offering her a warm smile and rolling down your window just a tad further.

"Hi, do you need something?"

As her murmurs dance in disarray, fragments of words manage to intertwine, and in a fleeting moment, a shiver cascades down your spine. " You're. . . Die. . . Tonight."

Her expression is vacant, her gaze distant, and the fidgety way she picks at her cuticles hints at her unease. Even though you feel a sense of discomfort, a strong urge to leave the parking lot doesn't overcome you. Instead, you reach into the glove compartment, retrieve a crumpled $20 bill, and gently pass it through the window.

You recoil in shock as she snatches it out of your hand, making sure to quickly wobble off. With your heart racing, you roll up the window and sink into the headrest, trying to soothe your jangled nerves. What the hell was that about? The only conclusion you can draw is that she must be a deranged old woman.

After finally catching your breath, you unlock your car door and slide out, card in hand. Gently inserting the blue plastic into the slot at the back of your phone case, you carefully place it in your pocket. The night had fallen, and you were eager to return to the comfort of your home.

You took a cart from the parking lot racks and pushed it inside, feeling the chill of the air as you entered the store. "Hmm, what should I pick up for Jess?"

—

"Jess! Mom! I'm home!" You set the bags onto the dining room table and wait there with a cocked hip. Within moments, Jess emerges from her room and descends the stairs in a flurry. A gentle smile adorns your face as you present the tub of delectable ice cream, relishing in the delightful sound of her joyful squeal.

"Ah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" With a grateful smile, she plants a sweet kiss on your cheek and pulls you into a warm embrace. She then heads to the kitchen, excitedly searching through the drawer for a spoon. Your mother, already present in the kitchen, peeks out from behind the corner.

You notice her face contorting into a slight frown paired with a gentle smile. You recognize that look instantly, so you grab the car keys and smoothly slide the card off the table. Her eyes soften with regret as she passes you a tiny list. "It's just a few things, the ingredients for Jakiya's birthday cake that slipped my mind. Do you mind picking them up?"

You raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. "I don't necessarily have a choice, mom." Your mom huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's a simple yes or no question, don't be difficult." Despite your strained relationship with your mom, you made an effort to avoid arguments when Jess was present.

Speaking of which, Jess had stopped rummaging in the drawer, body strung tight like a bow. Your gaze softened as you released a weary, deep sigh. You were completely fed up with your parents' nonsense, but Jess shouldn't have to witness the constant fighting between the three of you.

With a gentle nibble on the tender flesh of your cheek, you gracefully acknowledged your mother's request, enveloping yourself in the comforting embrace of your jacket. "Sure mom, what do you need?"

A smile of gratitude adorned her face as she pushed a small list towards you. You grinned wryly as you snatched it, then swiftly headed towards the door. The sun had long set, plunging the world into darkness. The street lights flickered weakly, barely illuminating the empty streets.

Jess gazes at you as you prepare to depart, smiling guiltily. With a playful roll of your eyes, you silently express your affection, mouthing the words 'I love you' and blowing a tender kiss in her direction. Her nose scrunches up adorably, but her face lights up with a radiant smile as she reciprocates the gesture. As you steal a glance to the side, you catch sight of your mother observing the exchange, her eyes filled with a bittersweet longing.

"Text me if there's something else, I'm not going back out later." The words were directed towards Jess, but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand and reached for a large spoon from the drawer. Stepping outside, you were greeted by the refreshing embrace of the cool, crisp air, causing you to release a frustrated sigh. The sound of your keys jingled as you retrieved them from your pocket, pressing a button to unlock the car doors. With a swift motion, you hopped into the front seat and firmly closed the door behind you.

You wait impatiently as the engine sputters before shutting off. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you attempt a few more times before surrendering. Frustrated, you hit the dashboard and recline in your seat. If you were to go inside and inform your mom that the car wouldn't start, she'd make you walk anyway.

With a sigh escaping your lips, you swing open the door and slide from the seat locking the doors behind you. Embarking on your journey towards Kroger, you find yourself humming a gentle melody, adding a touch of serenity to your brisk pace towards the supermarket. The night envelops you in a tranquil embrace, yet the houses you pass by are alive with vibrant activity. As you stroll along, your gaze wanders towards the windows, offering glimpses into the lives unfolding within.

Some families are cooking while others are at the table already eating. Happiness danced in the air, casting its enchanting spell upon every corner. Yet, as you observed this idyllic scene, a twinge of envy tugged at your heartstrings. Growing up, you yearned for such a blissful atmosphere that seemed to elude you. At the tender age of nine, your parents bestowed upon you the title of maturity, deeming you wise beyond your years. And while, yes, you possessed a certain level of wisdom, it did not equate to being capable enough to care for your baby sister.

It fell upon you to fetch Jess from daycare and ensure a safe journey back home for the two of you. It was your responsibility to prepare meals for both of you after school. The weight of raising your four-year-old sister and yourself rested solely on your shoulders, as there was no one else to do it for you. Over time, the bond between both of you and your parents had weakened. They were seldom present, and when they were, disagreements ensued. You made an effort to keep the arguments hushed whenever Jess was around. She often blamed herself for the strained relationship between you, your mom, and your dad.

As you stroll along the dimly lit street, a sudden hush falls upon your heart as the echo of footsteps reaches your ears. Time seems to stand still, and for a fleeting moment, your heart skips a beat. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, you cling to a glimmer of hope, imagining that those footsteps might belong to a passerby, innocently treading the same path as you.

They draw nearer, their footsteps quickening. You swallow your trepidation, nearly stumbling as a man's voice pierces the air. "Excuse me!" His voice resonates with a deep, thunderous timbre, sending shivers down your spine. You flinch, but press on, hastening towards the bustling street where the glow of passing cars illuminates the pavement and towering structures. Towards the sanctuary of safety.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

You're almost there. You start to jog a little but they've closed in a bit too much. Their presence looms closer, their energy palpable. Just as panic threatens to consume you, you part your lips to release a piercing scream, only to find that silence has enveloped the air.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of a bush, followed by a brief, hushed cry that fades into silence. The chirping of crickets has ceased, leaving a stillness that envelops the world. With uncertainty, you glance behind you and collapse to the ground as the two men have vanished. Gazing up at the night sky, the reflection in your eyes, you offer silent gratitude to whoever intervened and saved you in that fleeting moment.

You stand up and you resume your journey, eventually arriving at the bustling street. Though your legs falter when you notice the woman from earlier sitting on a bus stop bench. The impact of the $20 becomes evident as she savors a warm, nourishing meal, and her once weary eyes seem to be less bloodshot.

A part of you hesitates to pass by her, yet you dismiss that fleeting sense of unease and march towards her. It appears that she is also cautious of your presence, as her head swiftly turns towards you—almost as if she is just as cognizant of you as you are of her. Her gaze drifts beyond your shoulder and her eyes widen, a sheer terror reflecting in them. She abandons her meal, rises with some effort, clutches onto her bag, and hastens away.

Your brows knit together and you cast a glance over your shoulder, a whirlwind of bewilderment dancing in your gaze. There is no one lingering in the shadows and the surroundings appear undisturbed. Returning your attention to her path, you discover that she has vanished into thin air. A sense of unease settles within you as you resume your journey towards the store, diligently keeping a watchful eye on the space behind you.

—

The parking lot is nearly empty when you leave the store. Alongside you, a stream of tired employees bid farewell to their workday, their footsteps echoing in harmony with your own. Amid this scene, a message from Jess illuminates your phone, informing you that dinner has already been prepared. However, a bittersweet note lingers as their parents, driven by impatience, have chosen to indulge in the meal without your presence.

The girl had put you some food up and would eat with you when you got home. You tell her that it's fine and for her to go to sleep. She responds back with the middle finger emoji. You let out a soft laugh and gently tuck your phone away, resuming your journey back home. In moments like these, you can't help but appreciate the invaluable presence of your sister. She is the unwavering support that keeps you grounded, the guiding light that helps you navigate through life's challenges. It is because of her that you find the strength to persevere, even in the face of your parents' constant demands.

Raising Jess, despite its challenges, has molded you into the person you are now. A person who is dependable, always on time, patient, and strong-willed. You possess the remarkable ability to adapt swiftly and thrive in any endeavor you undertake. If your parents hadn't entrusted you with the responsibility of raising your sister, none of these remarkable qualities would have blossomed within you. Although it may be bittersweet, raising Jess has truly been a hidden blessing, concealed in the depths of life's mysteries.

As you hurriedly make your way home, you take a shortcut and find yourself in the dimly lit parking lot of a mysterious barber shop. Instantly, a wave of regret washes over you as you stumble upon a group of men engaged in some clandestine activity. Panic sets in, and you quickly decide to retreat. However, fate has other plans for you. In your haste, you accidentally collide with a solid chest, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

When you gather the courage to look up, you are met with a sight that leaves you breathless. Standing before you is a towering figure, adorned with intricate tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. His pierced septum and eyebrow only add to his intimidating presence, and his annoyed expression sends shivers down your spine. As his eyebrows furrow, you can't help but do a double take at his striking attractiveness.

"Watch where you're going, woman." You nod in agreement and attempt to move aside, but a member of the group lets out a disrespectful whistle. Your body tenses as you try to keep walking, only to have your wrist grabbed by another individual. "Where do you think you're going? You're such a pretty little thing."

"I just want to get home. Please, let me go." Your attempt at a stern tone falters as your voice quivers and a hiccup escapes. Laughter fills the air, causing you to shrink back as if confronting a pack of wolves. Six of them.

The mysterious figure you collided with earlier firmly grasps the man who is restraining your wrist. " I don't have all fucking night Tyler. Either give me my shit, or I'm going to blow your brains across this goddamn lot."

The atmosphere suddenly becomes hushed, as if time itself holds its breath. A distant memory resurfaces, a conversation shared with your sister, where you both playfully pondered about how you would handle such a situation. Laughter filled the air as you jokingly mentioned pepper spray and karate moves. But now, in this very moment, fear grips your heart, rendering you utterly petrified.

Tyler releases his grip on you, causing a small, trembling breath to escape your lips. "Jesus, Dom. I was just joking," he says nervously, glancing at his friends for support. A few chuckle while others remain silent.

Dom gazes at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Go. Before I change my mind." Despite the stern tone, there is a softness in his eyes that reassures you. You thank him profusely and speed walk away from the group.

The moment you thought you were making headway, the piercing screams and the thunderous gunshots shatter the night's calmness. Time seems to stand still as the world around you falls into an eerie silence once again. With a lump in your throat, you quicken your pace, feeling the weight of tears welling up in your eyes.

This couldn't possibly be the end for you. It simply couldn't. You still had a duty to care for your sister, to provide her with a better life than you ever had. You longed to shield her from your parents, but how could you do that if you were no longer alive?

As you sprint away, tightly holding onto the groceries, a gasp escapes your lips before a hand covers your mouth, guiding you into a hidden bush. The struggle feels like the most intense challenge you've ever faced. Through a tiny gap, you catch a glimpse of your groceries left behind on the pavement.

" Shh, little female."

As if by magic, a wave of calm washes over you the moment you recognize the familiar presence of 'Dom'. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you gently rest your hands upon his, feeling the rhythmic beats of your heart resonating in your ears. As you glance through the foliage, a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing 'Tyler' once again. Yet, he appears far from human this time. His complexion is a mesmerizing shade of deep purple, and his face is adorned with four fiery red eyes and a menacing set of frothing, razor-sharp teeth.

His mouth oozes with saliva, which cascades onto the solid ground and creates a sizzling noise. It was acidic. Dom embraces you tightly, his free hand ascending. In his grasp, a peculiar gun emerges, unlike anything you have ever laid eyes upon. With precision, he positions the barrel's tip against the peephole, his finger gently caressing the trigger. As the gun powers up, a radiant orange glow illuminates its entire frame, casting an ethereal aura. The release is nearly soundless, as a beam pierces through 'Tyler's forehead.

He moves away from you, emerging from the bushes, taking your stunned body in his arms and lifting you up gently. Running his fingers through his hair, the white locks falling smoothly into place.

As your gaze meets his, your mortal eyes widen in awe. He appears changed, yet undeniably captivating in a strange, otherworldly manner. His complexion is a deep shade of grey, adorned with intricate tattoos in an unfamiliar script. Some markings are white, while others emit a haunting red glow. His hair, too, is a ghostly white, almost pulsating with life. His eyes, a cloudy white, give the impression of blindness, yet two more eyes rest just below the main set. The piercings on his nose and eyebrow remain, adding to his enigmatic allure.

You take a step back, but he gives you a piercing look that freezes you in place "What are you?" Without a word, he hesitates for a moment before taking your hand and leading you away. "Where are we going?" Your voice trembles with fear. Dom halts and releases your hand. He gestures towards the lifeless body. "Do you see that? Hundreds of those things have already touched Terra, 3 earth months ago."

You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm. The deep timber of his voice brings you back to reality. "They proliferate with astonishing speed, ceaselessly multiplying. Your planet is infested, we're only here to see if it was preventable. We were too late."

As he looks down upon you, his eyes soften, embracing the sight of your trembling figure. "Our ultimate aim is to gather a chosen few among humanity and escort you to a hospitable planet, so that you can once again repopulate."

You shake your head slowly, taking a step back, "I cannot abandon my sister here." Dom releases a fierce growl, pointing his gun towards you and firing. The beam narrowly misses you, striking another monster in the head.

"Make it quick."

In a flurry of movement, you dart into the house, the groceries slipping from your grasp and finding their place on the table in a haphazard manner. Dom follows silently, his presence masked by a cloaking device that renders him invisible to the naked eye.

Your heart races within your chest, a wild stallion galloping against the confines of its cage, as you ascend the stairs with reckless abandon, the sound of your footsteps reverberating loudly against the wooden steps. Bursting into Jess' room, a wave of relief washes over you, a grateful prayer whispered under your breath. Taking a seat on her bed, your smile quivers with a mixture of emotions.

Her expression is one of bewilderment and a touch of fear. Tenderly, you sweep a strand of hair away from her face. "Do me a favor, my sweet girl. Pack some clothes, but pack light. I'll explain on the way but do it quickly." Jess has always trusted your decisions without hesitation, and she won't begin to question them now. She swiftly jumps out of bed and retrieves a bookbag from her wardrobe, the very same one you both use during your camping adventures.

"We don't have much time, little female." His tone isn't rushing in the slightest but you quickly head to your room and grab your book bag. You gather only the essentials - tough denim, comfortable shirts, reliable footwear, empty notebooks, and writing tools.

Jess rushed into the room, packing faster than anticipated, much to your relief. You take her hand and guide her out, but suddenly a loud crash interrupts. Both of you scream and huddle in the corner. Dom reveals himself and fires a shot, striking the massive creature in the shoulder. Its deafening roar rattles the house and you hear your parents' heavy footsteps approaching. Just as the monster lunges towards you, Dom takes aim and shoots it in the head. Neon blood splatters the wall, causing it to slowly dissolve.

With wide, frightened eyes, Jess looks up at you as you cling to her protectively. Your parents step into the room, dressed in their robes, shocked expressions on their faces as they take in the scene in front of them. Dom pays no attention to them, instead turning his gaze towards you and giving you a once-over.

" Are you ready?"

With a subtle nod, you accept his outstretched hand, intertwining your fingers with his while ensuring your younger sister is safe by your side. The first to break the silence is your father, his voice laced with bewilderment. "What the hell is happening?!" His eyes fixate on you, as if you hold the key to unraveling this enigma. Disregarding his inquiry, Dom strides past, leading the three of you down the staircase. Your parents trail behind, bombarding you with a flurry of questions. Despite their persistent curiosity, you make a conscious effort to block out their voices, but your mother intervenes by snatching Jess away from your side.

With a sudden movement, the girl breaks free and falls into your waiting arms. Dom brandishes his weapon, his expression icy and resolute. Your mother retreats, seeking solace in the arms of your father.

Dom takes the lead, while the two of you follow closely. Observing Jess, he sees her slight build and anticipates she may have difficulty keeping pace. However, he remains utterly unfazed, not a hint of complaint escaping his lips. In a surprising display of strength, he effortlessly lifts her, prompting her to let out a startled yelp, and places her book bag on his shoulder.

" We need to move fast. Keep up."

As you secure your book bag and inhale deeply, a rush of adrenaline courses through you. Dom sprints ahead, weapon in hand. The sound of breaking glass startles you, disrupting the tranquility of the surroundings you had just passed. The anguished cries of parents and children tug at your heartstrings, but your focus remains on Jess.

—

The length of time you've been running is a blur, your legs now numb from the effort. Nevertheless, you persist, matching his pace as best as you can. Jess has succumbed to sleep, worn out from the night's adventures. You grin wearily at her and give yourself a firm slap on the cheeks, determined to stay awake.

Dom is pleasantly surprised by how far you've been able to sprint, appreciating your resilience and commitment to your kin. As the three of you reach a vast clearing, he gradually slows down and halts. You catch up to him, panting heavily, with sweat glistening on your skin. You look at him, curious as to why he's stopped. Dom raises his arm and utters something in his native tongue. The gauntlet beeps and responds to him in kind.

The once vacant clearing now teems with life as your gaze is captivated by the majestic arrival of a ship. Its sheer grandeur overwhelms you, compelling you to take a step back. Towering above, the ship's entrance demands you to tilt your head back.

As Dom guides you onward, the hatch swings open, inviting you to step onto its surface. A warm welcome awaits you from a gathering of his companions, each adorned in vibrant hues, yet all sharing the distinctive feature of milky white eyes. Drawing nearer to Dom, you find solace in the proximity of your sister. They engage in conversation briefly, before the hatch seals shut and Dom secures his firearm in its holster. " You will be safe here. The ship will take off tomorrow night when my people come with more of your kind."

He leads the two of you to a room, one big bed placed in the middle of it accompanied by a smattering of curious contraptions. The walls exude an ethereal shade of slate grey metal, while a petite window graces the space just above a cozy sitting area. Tenderly, Dom settles Jess upon the bed and places the bag on a nearby table. He looks towards you and motions forward. "Rest."

As he moves towards the room's exit, you seize his hand. Your eyes betray a lack of trust, not in him, but in the very ship and its occupants. Dom stares at you, his emotions veiled, and you struggle to hold back tears. " Will you come back? Are you leaving us?"

In Dom's world, the idea of a female requiring reassurance and assistance was unfamiliar territory. The females on his planet, known as sîmalę, were formidable warriors, often occupying positions of power surpassing those of the males. Dom found himself fortunate to have gotten his position. [ Female¹]

He reminds himself that you are a human hailing from the terra planet. The concept of hunting or encountering creatures that did not resemble pets or the animals confined within the cages of a zoo was foreign to you. Dom gently releases your hand from his grasp, his gaze emanating reassurance despite the vacancy in his expression." Sleep, little female and this one will be back soon."

Observing as you reluctantly nod, you make your way towards the bed. With tenderness, you remove your sister's shoes and tuck her in, finding solace in this simple act of nurturing. Your savior exits the room, leaving you to collapse onto your knees, tears cascading from your eyes. The events of today crash upon you with the intensity of a thunderstorm, and you come to the realization that it is now solely you and your sister. A small part of you regrets not bringing your parents along, but you have convinced yourself that it was the wisest choice.

" What's wrong?"

You swiftly brush away the tears with the back of your hand. Gazing at your sister, you grasp her hand gently in yours. Her eyes hold a hint of doubt as you shake your head. It was crucial to show Jess that you were the pillar of strength, assuring her safety and control.

"It's nothing, I'm just exhausted. Let's head to sleep okay?" Jess nods, revealing the empty side of the bed for you to rest on. You kick off your shoes and wrap yourself in the comforter. Jess joins you promptly, nestling beside you to provide warmth. The lights recognize your need for rest and dim down.

"I love you."

You grin and hold her hand in yours. "I love you too."

—-

The gentle murmur of voices pulls you from your slumber, but Jess is no longer by your side, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness. Your eyes gradually open, taking in your surroundings. A sleepy yawn escapes your lips as you sit up in bed. The voices fall silent, only to be replaced by Jess' voice, beckoning you to join the conversation.

"Are you finally awake?"

A slight thumbs up is the only response Jess receives before you run your hands over your eyes, dispelling the drowsiness. "Dom says that the others will be back soon, in two hours. Then we'll be leaving here." At the mention of his name, you lift your gaze completely. The alien is stationed at the entrance, arms crossed, sporting a ghostly smile as a greeting.

Relief floods through you when he appears, and he can sense it too. Your oxytocin levels spike at the mere sight of him. The moment is disrupted by the loud rumbling of Jess' stomach, leading her to groan and flop onto the bed. "I'm starving!"

A piece of your heart is relieved to see Jess back to her usual self, yet a part of you understands the importance of discussing the recent events and what lies ahead. Dom opens the room door and motions to it. "This one will take you to the canteen, you'll eat there."

Jess eagerly jumps out of bed, taking your hand and pulling you along. "Hurry, I don't want to go by myself," she pleads. You yield to her plea and stand up. Dom watches the two of you but doesn't race you to get ready. The two of you quickly put on your shoes and exit the room.

Dom assumes the lead, acknowledging the presence of the guards stationed throughout the ship. "You will eat with the rest of your kind, worry not." You reciprocate with a nod, holding your sister tightly while marveling at the ship and its bewildering gadgets that surpass Earth's comprehension. Dom opens the door for both of you, placing a comforting hand on your lower back. His touch brings solace as you step inside, with Jess following closely behind. Although the canteen isn't teeming with people, its modest occupancy provides a semblance of safety within the ship's vast expanse.

"Jess?"

The sound of your sister's name comes from a girl with dyed red and pink hair. A dazzling diamond stud graces her pierced nose, and her eyes gleam in a warm toffee shade. It takes a moment for your sister to locate the person who called out to her, but when she does, her eyes fill with tears of happiness as she waves in acknowledgment.

You anticipate your sister's eager rush, yet she remains rooted, her hand clasping yours with increasing intensity, as if seeking your validation. A profound connection is forged as your eyes meet, and despite the weariness etched upon your visage, you manage to summon a tired smile, silently conveying your agreement. With unwavering determination, Jess propels herself towards the girl in the queue, leaping into her outstretched arms. "Kayla!"

While your sister is occupied, you sit at an unoccupied table, startled by Dom's sudden presence across from you. "How do you and your kin fair? Little female." It's a pity that you feel more at ease with an alien than your own kind.

" My name is [ ]." The nickname he has given you isn't one that offends you in any way. The way he uses it is quite endearing, but you'd rather him call you by your real name than anything else. You wring your hands together and your stress levels rise steadily. Anxious thoughts swirl in your mind as you ponder, "What will happen to everyone else that's left here?"

Your name carries the meaning of 'to conquer' in his native tongue and he finds it fitting for you. Dom's jaw tightens slightly as he locks eyes with you. "This one will not lie to you. Many of your species will die, it is survival of the fittest when it comes to the Qęnłar. They are hard to kill without proper weapons but it is not impossible."

[ Abomination¹]

A soft gasp is stifled by your hand as tears well up in your eyes. The sense of guilt consumes you, making you question your own worthiness. Unsure of how you could have helped, you can't help but feel like an imposter among those who perished.

Dom seems to sense your inner turmoil and does his best to console you. "There is not much you could've done, litt–."His voice falters momentarily as he nearly utters the name he'd given you, but he swiftly regains composure. "Had you not gone out that night, you also could've been left here on terra to die. None aboard this vessel would have spared a second thought to rescue you."

It's clear that he's not skilled at soothing people, particularly humans, yet you offer your thanks with a watery smile. As he opens his mouth to speak again, he gently places a hand on his ear. Despite the absence of eyebrows, you observe the furrow in the center of his forehead. His gaze turns icy as he stands up from the table.

"This one will find you in your chambers later, ask the guard to lead you when you are ready. Fęrłåk dė hłał." Although you don't understand the meaning behind his words, you nod in agreement, captivated by the enigmatic aura surrounding him. He then departs, pausing briefly to converse with the guard. [ Eat well ¹]

With a glance in your direction, the alien acknowledges Dom with a nod. Your stomach emits a low growl, prompting you to lay your head on the table, too fatigued to make a move.

Clang!

Next to your slouched figure, Jess sets down two trays brimming with mouth-watering dishes. As you straighten up, a grin spreads across your face. You instinctively grab the tray loaded with an assortment of fruits, feeling understood by her intuitive gesture— she knew you so well.

"Where did he go?" You assume she's talking about Dom. With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, you indulged in the succulent sweetness of a ripe mango, savoring each delicate bite.

"Jess. What happened yesterday–."

The girl holds up her hand. "I don't know what happened when you left, and there's no need to tell me. I've never questioned anything you've done for me before because you always have the best interest at heart. Thank you for coming back for me. Dom told me that you wouldn't leave without me."

She gazes down at her tray of food. "A part of me feels guilty for leaving mom and dad but I know that you made the right decision and had your reasons." Jess lets out a shaky sigh and turns to face you. "I'm scared, absolutely terrified but I want to be strong for you. Like how you are for me. I can tell you're stressed as it is and I don't want to burden you."

You pull her into a hug and shake your head. "Jess, you could never, and I mean never be a burden to me. Do you understand?" She nods into your chest, sniffling softly. You rub her back and bite your lip. "I'm also really scared, this is new to me but I'll make sure that we'll get through it."

She nods again and pulls away from you. You purse your lips, a mixture of emotions swirling within you, and decide to divert your attention by savoring the delectable cantaloupe. "Now eat. You pulled me from my sleep and I want to go back to bed." Jess chuckles softly, her head bobbing in agreement. " I'm also really sleepy. It'd also be crazy to wake up in space."

The mere thought causes you to grimace involuntarily. This entire experience is uncharted territory for you, but just like in the past, you will learn to adapt and persevere. The cool, refreshing juice of the watermelon glides down your throat, its delightful taste prompting a gentle hum of satisfaction.

It feels almost surreal to grasp the idea that within a mere two hours, you will bid farewell to your beloved home. A place you believed to be exclusively inhabited by humans, the notion of extraterrestrial existence had never crossed your mind. The journey that lies ahead will undoubtedly present its fair share of challenges and hardships. This very moment, unfolding like a scene from an otherworldly sci-fi saga, is something you never could have anticipated, even in your wildest dreams. And now, as you find yourself in this new reality, your mission has taken on a profound meaning - to protect Jess at all costs.

"Captain X'ęnš would like to enter your chambers. Will you allow him access?"

In a state of heightened alertness, you find yourself sitting up, your muscles tense with anticipation. The room is suddenly bathed in light, only to swiftly dim as the perceptive AI detects that Jess is still sound asleep. A wave of uncertainty washes over you as you contemplate the identity of the person standing outside the door.

Your gaze sweeps across the room, desperately seeking an object to grasp onto for a sense of security. Eventually, your eyes settle upon one of your worn boots. With a mixture of doubt and determination, you call out to the AI. "Please show me the door feed." A brief moment of silence ensues before the AI responds, its voice calm and reassuring. "Certainly."

The door shimmers, revealing a translucent barrier that draws you nearer. Dropping the shoe, you breathe a sigh of contentment at the sight of Dom standing before you. Standing in front of the door, you gaze at him, captivated by the intricacies of his face.

"Can he see me?"

In a swift response, the AI speaks, "Negative, this is a unidirectional perspective. He is visible solely to you." As soon as it finishes saying that, Dom raises his head. Your heart pounds rapidly as his gaze eerily connects with yours, contradicting the AI's statement. "Open the door."

As the entryway unfolds with a whisper, Dom's towering figure emerges. You greet him with a breathless smile, slipping your hands into your back pockets. "Hi." Dom mellows at your soft tone, allowing you to place a hand on his arm and push him back, watching as you discreetly slide out of the room so as to not wake up your sister. He does a once over, looking for any wounds or signs of distress, and finds that he's pleased with himself that you're alright.

"This one said he would visit after his duties, jœrmünd łæ bšłåm." He watches with amusement as your eyebrows furrow. " What does that mean?" Your lips form a thoughtful pout. "And earlier you said, ferrak di hal." From the moment you first laid eyes on him, even though it was just recently, you had been curious to discover the sound of his laughter, and it did not disappoint.

His laugh isn't boisterous. It's a deep and soothing sound, akin to the soft murmur of a distant waterfall. As the echoes of his laughter reached your ears, they stirred a gentle fire within, causing a delightful warmth to spread and caress your belly. Whether he noticed the subtle increase in your body's temperature or not, he remained silent, allowing the enchantment of the moment to weave its spell.

"Jœrmünd łæ bšłåm, it translates roughly in terra language to, 'good evening.'" His eyes twinkle with a playful delight as you attempt to mimic the intricate sounds and melodic cadence. " Fęrłåk dė hłał. It means to, eat well."

Dom gazes intently at you, then clasps his hands behind his back. "Walk with this one." You wriggle your toes in your cozy socks and give a slight nod.

As if guided by an invisible force, your steps align effortlessly with Dom's. The silence envelops you, but it feels far from uncomfortable. Your gaze wanders through the vast corridors of the ship, capturing glimpses of unfamiliar beings from distant worlds. At this moment, you break the silence and softly inquire, "May I know your name?"

With a quick glance, Dom's gaze shifts to you, his lips forming a straight line, prompting a frown to appear on your face. You ponder if your request was too bold, unsure of the cultural norms that may have been offended by your question.

As he utters the words, a sense of relief washes over you, even though his expression seems tinged with sadness. "This one's given name is Nim'xėn." he murmurs. In the distance, a group of his fimea approaches, but you remain oblivious, lost in your own thoughts. With a tender touch, he clasps your wrist and guides you to his side, yet your attention barely registers the gesture. [ soldiers ]

"Nim'xėn, in the language I speak, translates to 'of soft heart'. It doesn't much fit, when it comes to this one's line of work." Your mouth opened in a small 'o', that was probably the reason he had stuck with Dom all this time. You laughed softly, holding your hands up in surrender when he shoots you a coltish look of exasperation.

"I think it fits, regardless of what you do." There is no trace of mockery in your tone, nor any hint of jesting at his expense. With a gentle smile adorning his face, he steals a glance at you. A surge of warmth courses through your veins, causing your body temperature to soar. Swiftly, he averts his gaze, evading your notice.

With a gentle laugh, he responds to your attempt at saying his name, "Nim'jin?" He guides you towards a door, "This one will help you practice your Tuökkorsė, later." You assume that he's talking about his home language and your cheeks flush with embarrassment, making you question just how badly you butchered his name.

As Nim'xėn gently swings open the door, a beckoning gesture invites you to step inside. Without hesitation, you follow the invitation, and in an instant, your jaw falls open in awe. Unbeknownst to you and Jess, who had been lost in slumber for over two hours, the ship had gracefully ascended into the vastness of space. The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking, confirming your belief that waking up to the wonders of the cosmos is an experience beyond compare.

The space around you is encased in what looks like a delicate glass structure. You floated weightlessly in the vast expanse of the universe, far from the comforts of home. "Nim, this is truly breathtaking," you marveled. The alien blinked in response to the endearing nickname but remained silent. "Jess would love to see this."

Nim'xėn walks up behind you and fixates on the view he has witnessed countless times. However, inexplicably, he discovers himself treasuring your pįiwth expressions and yearning to unveil new wonders, all to witness your delightful grin once more. [ childish or cute¹ ]

"This one gives permission for you and your kin to visit here anytime." The enigmatic allure you possess has captivated him, leaving him bewildered. It is not his nature to be swayed so easily. He should have abandoned you on that desolate street, yet your innocent gaze had a profound effect on him. The depth of your love for your family astounded him, for even in the presence of imminent danger, your thoughts were solely consumed by her, and her alone.

Once he had escorted you to your room, his task should have been complete. Yet, your tender human hand had entwined with his own. Your unwavering trust and reliance had ensnared him, making it difficult for him to let go. In a realm where his female counterparts were independent and formidable, that moment of vulnerability had drawn him in, like a eürq to light.

[ large mosquito like creature — a saying similar to, ' a moth to flame ' ¹ ]

Yet, he also knew how strong you were. None before you had managed to match his speed, let alone endure it for an entire three hours. Your unwavering determination fascinated him. Nim'xėn yearned to prolong your time together, reluctant to bid you farewell.

Turning to the extraterrestrial, you met his gaze with the same wide-eyed innocence that had captivated him during your initial encounter. "Seriously?" His nod elicited a radiant smile on your face, reminiscent of the joy of Christmas, and Nim'xėn felt a flutter in his hearts. Your eyes then sought his. "How do you say thank you in your language?"

Nim'xėn couldn't help but find it pįiwth¹ that you were making an effort to learn his people's language. He decided to humor you. "Stęq'hn kevvhr.²" The alien chuckles when you grimace, looking up at him with furrowed brows. [ childish or cute¹ ] [ thank you² ]

"Lirft X'ęnš, quœ mojå iėał ph'ük ak hlem.¹ "

As he tightens his jaw, a resolute grunt escapes his lips. Returning his attention to you, he observes the slight downturn of your plush lips and the tilt of your head to the side. "Do you need to leave, again?" Nim'xėn softly hums, his hand finding solace on your lower back as he leads you towards the door.

[ Captain X'ęnš, we need your assistance up front. ¹ ]

"This one will take you back to your room."

As you tread back, a hushed calmness settles in, and Nim'xėn discerns that your thoughts have carried you away. Respecting your need for introspection, he chooses not to disturb your reverie. Upon arriving at the room, you turn around, meeting his gaze head-on. "Stęq'han kever." Without delay, you slip inside, leaving him standing there, his words left unspoken.

He then realizes that while the two of you were walking back, you had been trying to replicate what he had just said. Nim'xėn, finding himself once more, made his way towards the pit. Despite your imperfect rendition, he grasped the essence of your intention and couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

phæż pįiwth ¹ he thought. [ how cute. ¹ ]

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forsworned · 3 months

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfailed mission bluesˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ this fic was inspired by @ragingbookdragon bc holy shit they are absolutely talented and their writing style and the way they pick out little moments here and there in a chaptered fic kind of way but not quite? just a very casual yet perfect way to write idk if that makes any sense but anyways i just wanted to get out of my writers block and write this

꒰warning(s) ig suggested poly relationship???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Nobody had anticipated today's events. The mission was a failure. Rare, but it did happen every so often when communications went interrupted, information was falsified and one slip up from one person caused a domino effect. Still, no one was at fault.

"It was bad intel, mate." Kyle softly says to Johnny.

Johnny merely stares at his scotch that had been downed a few moments ago, the ice clattered and seeped at the bottom of the glass.

"I know." He lets out a sharp exhale from his nose.

Price glances over at Johnny before making eye contact with the bartender. "Any chance of a drink sometime this week?"

The bartender chuckled at the playful jab. "Aye, 'll be ready by tomorrow night."

The bartender came over to serve a bottle Stillman's to Price, but he tilted his head in Johnny's direction and the bartender picked up the signal. Johnny's eyes flickered up for a moment and the bartender gives him a kind smile. "On th'house."

The corners of the Scot curl up into a half smile. "Ahh, thanks mate." He murmured. His mind was flooded with distracting thoughts as he watched his glass being filled. He nodded at the bartender and then caught the gaze of Simon, not quite leering, more analyzing than anything but still scrutinizing if only a bit.

Johnny turned away and lifted the glass to his lips. The fiery liquid gave a pleasant burn in his chest. It was quiet save for the sound of Irene Kral crooning over the speakers and the soft pattering of rain against the glass. The bells at the bar entrance rang and the squelching of shoes against the hardwood floors made their ears perk up.

"Hey." She beamed at them, a little glint of light on the gloomy day. Her clothes are drenched as she removed the hood of her rain jacket. Lips glossed, skin dewy and her eyes shining under the dim light. The light frangrance of rosejam and vanilla permeated the air that she stood in.

"Lil late to the party, don't y'think, lass?" Kyle's smooth voice lightened the mood, as if her presence hadn't made them find oxygen once again.

She chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, was--"

"Feedin' that damn cat again, weren't ya?" Simon piped up as he sipped at his scotch and casted a quick glance her.

Her grin grew. "Oh don't be such a--"

He put his hand up to stop her. "'m not drunk enough for this conversation yet."

That earns a laugh from everyone. An impish quip from Simon was nothing that they were a stranger to, although, it happened more often than not when she was around. The mood lifted once more as Price grabbed a barstool and dragged it between him and Simon.

"Hava seat, duck." Price licked his lips as he sipped at his drink and he peered over at the bartender once more as he raised a finger at him.

She smiled at the bartender and waved her hand around and shook her head. "No drink for me tonight, Archie."

Archie raised his brows at her. "The missus doesn't want a drink, t'night?"

"Expectin' a wee one soon." Price larked with a grin as he patted her playfully over her womb.

She laughed and swatted his hand, peering up at Archie. "Not a chance. I'm not in the mood is all."

Archie nodded and went to tend to other patrons that entered the pub. There was a small moment of silence as she huffed a bit and set her bag on the bar. She unzipped her jacket and a pair of hands were on her shoulders.

"I'll take it." Johnny's voice was subdued as he peeled it off her form. She thanked him with a smile and he may have melted at the way she looked up at him with those eyes. He padded over to the other side of the room where the coat hanger was at.

"Taking it a bit hard?" she murmured to Price and Kyle and they gave nods and half smiles.

"Poor thing." She said as Archie brought over a ginger beer, popping open the cap and she laughed. "Thanks."

Another silence as Johnny joined them again. It was a numbing feeling. The feeling of something so grandiose slipping right through your fingers.

Her jaw ticked in annoyance. The sound of molars gritting hard against each other was loud as they glanced over at her. "We were right there."

Johnny hung his head.

"Not your fault, y'know." She fiddled with the cap that was left behind as she sipped at her bottle.

"It's not, Johnny." Simon agreed.

That struck a cord in him. His hand tightened around the glass and he felt a baseball sized lump gathering up in his throat. He decided on keeping his mouth clamped shut.

"Jus' glad you're alive, mate." Kyle clapped the Scot's shoulder.

"Otherwise we'd have to kill ya ourselves." Price chirped up. Another wave of laughter. A small smile adorning Simon's lips as he took another sip of his scotch. The solemn mood overcoming all of them once more as they sat there in silence. Indeed there was nothing they could've done, but the deadened feeling of a failed mission was unmatched.

#cod x reader #call of duty imagines #mw imagines #simon riley x reader #ghost x reade #soap x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost x reader #poly 141

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pawberri · 6 hours

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The key problem with "proship vs anti" discourse is that the most extreme versions of each side, the ones who actually bother to identify with these labels, accepted each others worst takes as arguments they had to debate. "Fiction =/= reality" is, in practice, an absurdly reductionist, anti-intellectual, thought-terminating-cliche that dictates we can learn nothing about a person via art and that their fiction reflects no political or moral messaging worthy of critique. In response to this, the "puriteens" who are too young to possibly hope to articulate their discomfort, to untangle their position from what is often real trauma experienced online, simply argue "yes, fiction influences and reflects reality in a 1 to 1 capacity." They, and people who want to use the groundwork they laid to make bad-faith callouts, make bad arguments about how the action of engaging in problematic fiction is on equal ground to real life abuse, or is a clear indicator of interest in real life abuse. Both of these arguments are terrible, but each side seems to radicalize the other further and further into their own brands of anti-intellectual reactionary belief. "Proshippers" become libertarian absolutists about free speech and view all transgression as righteous and alternative and therefore leftist. They gain a reactionary nostalgia for the past, desiring a time when people didn't seem to care about the implications of art. "Antis" become authoritarian and hypervigilant for signs of moral decay, at their worst, willing to align themselves with government bodies that offer carceral solutions to the debate. They are willing to use harassment as a tool of punishment, which then leads to false accusations and a fear of openness that puts people at risk of being triggered via obfuscation. (That said, proshippers also take part in plenty of harassment.)

I will say that I believe both of these movements are equally sensitive to co-opting by right-wing forces. We see the authoritarian tendencies of anti culture in harassment campaigns and even the way Republican law makers co-opt "grooming." The proship/fic crowd has such extreme nostalgia for the past that I often see people align themselves with the cultures of 4chan or other happily right-wing websites. They so heavily reject the idea that a drawn sexual depiction of a child could reflect any desire that they are disinterested in analyzing what the motivation behind the depiction is. i.e If we track the history of lolicon in Japan we do find that is, yes, countercultural, but that counter culture is right wing, very misogynistic, and defensive of patriarchial Japanese culture as it is and was including its culture around rape and abuse. Plenty of fictional content works as radicalization material, and radicalization material needs to be ambiguous. There is a valid reason to be hesitant to trust people who consume this content, even if I do not believe most of them will ever be dangerous towards children. The mere presence of sexuality is not enough to make a movement left wing. This kind of thing can again be seen in right-wing libertarian movements in the US. (And even leftist movements can be bigoted and even "pro-pedophilia" or otherwise disinterested in social reform around abuse.)

Is all content with elements of age-play this way? No. But to me, that is why kink media deserves to be treated as art and analyzed, critiqued, treated seriously. It doesn't have to do anything to anyone to be worthy of a moral critique. Said moral critique just doesn't warrant harassment and cruelty and reactionary exaggerations of the person consuming said content.

Anyway, what's my point in saying all this? I don't know. I'm just begging you to tag your God damn content with specific tags instead of random and nebulous shit like "dead dove" or "dark content", and also begging you to stop harassing people who do tag their content so I don't have to guess what "dead dove" and "dark content" mean. No one will erase incest kink fics or people who feel sickened by the idea of them off this earth because we aren't god, but we could at least all be responsible about tagging, flagging, and age-gating our stuff.

#csa tw #long post #proship anti tw

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ladyempty · 21 days

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Yan! Maegor Targaryen x Wife!Reader

° | !English is not my first language!|

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

#yandere x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere maegor targaryen #Yandere Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen x Reader #Maegor Targaryen #house Targaryen #house targaryen

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ranhaitanisgf · 4 months

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3:45 a.m - ran haitani [gn]

masterlist

you think that your heart managed to actually stop beating when you open your eyes and see ran staring right back at you. his face is mere centimeters away from yours, his murky violet eyes seeming to be analyzing your face as you jump in shock, letting out a small curse.

"ran, you scared me! why're you up right now...?" you asked, drowsiness still trying to pull you back to sleep. "it's super late, you should be sleeping..."

"i couldn't stop looking at you."

"hah?" you blurted, your brain still too tired to be flustered. ran chuckled a bit at your response, (his slightly raspy voice from sleeping was far more attractive than you could ever handle) and pulled you closer, gently pressing his lips against your temple.

"nothin', go back to sleep."

"mm, is something wrong though?" you asked, tucking yourself closer to his body, (you couldn't help the fact that you were still woefully tired and just a little bit cold). "you love to sleep."

"hm, i'd say it's the opposite, sweets." he murmured, smoothing his hand over the crown of your head. "didn't wanna stop looking at you, my perfect (y/n)."

"gah, stop it...it's so late i don't even know how to respond to that..." you mumbled, shifting your face to hide in his chest. you could feel the vibrations of his laugh in his chest as you buried your face in embarrassment, his long hair tickling your cheeks a bit. "don't laugh at me, you're the one acting weird..."

"sorry sorry~ you're just too cute, i can't help myself." he gently pulled you away from his frame, his eyes finding yours and giving you a soft smile, (it was rare that there wasn't any traces of snarkiness).

"what..." you murmured, feeling as though you were under some kind of scrutiny under his gaze. you could never quite tell what he was thinking, and this was especially true in the dark cover of night when the lack of light in the room shaded his eyes in such a way that you couldn't read them at all.

"'m so lucky to have you. i think god made some kinda mistake giving you to me, but i'm not gonna let anybody try and take you."

"i don't think anybody's gonna try and do that, ran."

"quite the contrary. i think that there are many people who would want to take you as their prize." you rolled your eyes at his words, reaching out to thread your fingers through his hair.

"well i'm not planning on being anybody else's 'prize' or whatever...only yours." ran's eyes slowly closed as you cupped his cheek with your hand, his head unconsciously leaning into your touch.

"mm...that's good to hear." he whispered, relishing in your touch for a few moments longer. "all mine..."

"mhm. why don't we go back to sleep now?"

"m'kay..." you giggled a bit at the drowsiness that seemed be suddenly hitting ran, his eyes staying closed as he once again pulled you closer to him, his lanky arms wrapping around you and making sure that you were as close to him as you could be. "...love you..."

"love you more."

"not possible."

"definitely possible."

"i love you more. now go to sleep."

"no, i-mmph!" your words were cut off by ran's lips pressing against yours, his fingers tilting your chin up and effectively shutting you up, (he was so tired, yet he still had energy to do that?).

"go to sleep, (y/n)."

"this isn't over, ran."

"mm, okay~"

a/n: a little drabble b/c i feel bad abt not completing any reqs :( i hope you all enjoyed :3

#˗ˏˋ𖤐 tokyo revengers ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ𖤐 ran haitani ˎˊ˗#tokyo revengers x reader #tok rev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader fluff #fluff #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader fluff #x reader #reader #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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fandomxpreferences · 10 months

Text

Smart Enough To Know Better, Dumb Enough To Do It Anyway

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:angst (?), mildly toxic behavior, mildly controlling, drugs and alcohol, creepy guy, I think thats all

Summary: Listening has never been your strong suit, and it makes for an interesting dynamic with the Kook King.

Word Count:3.1k

"Rafe, you can't be serious." You whine, making sure he sees your dramatic pout as you emerge from the en suite.

He scans over your appearance with an approving nod and leans in to kiss your forehead.

"Have fun tonight."

You lean back with a scowl and stare up at him with disapproval before yanking on the hem of his sweatshirt that he insists you wear.

"Dude, this is a party. You can't honestly expect me to wear your old lacrosse hoodie and baggy sweatpants!"

He shrugs casually at your annoyance and leans on the door frame with his arms crossed.

"Wear it or don't go. It's up to you."

You're mere seconds from stomping your foot like a petulant child and huff loudly.

"Well, if you would just go with me it wouldn't be a problem." You snark, but he does nothing except smirk at your bratty demeanor.

"Listen, sweetheart, you know I have an early morning."

Usually, you wouldn't push him this far but your aggravation with his policing overrides your senses.

"Yeah, whatever dude."

You roll your eyes and turn around to go back to the bathroom, doing your best not to smile when you hear Rafe walking heavily behind you. You analyze yourself in the mirror with an unamused expression and make a point not to pay him any mind just to rub salt in the wound.

His expression is darker now, a mixture of anger and displeasure swirling around his chest at your challenge to his dominance. After a couple of minutes, you finally turn around to face him and lean back on the counter.

"Can I at least take off the sweats and wear the hoodie as a dress with some boots or sneakers?"

You think it's a fair compromise considering who you're negotiating with, but Rafe clearly disagrees. He's inches away from you before you can blink, with flared nostrils and red cheeks.

"Can you just fucking listen for once? You're lucky I'm letting you go at all and stop calling me dude. You know I hate that."

His voice is raspy and deep the way it is when his temper is teetering the edge, and your spine instantly straightens.

"This is my way of looking out for you when I'm not there. You want to be respectful and please me, don't you baby?"

Goosebumps pebble your skin when he softy brushes your hair to the side so he can brush his lips against the back of your neck. Your eyelids flutter as you try to hold your ground, but resolve is quickly slipping.

His hand wraps around and harshly grips you by the jaw, forcing your lips to pucker as you hold his gaze in the mirror.

"Don't you?"

His tone is condescending this time as he frowns mockingly, and you nod against his hold. He smiles victoriously before letting go and kissing your cheek like nothing happened.

"I thought so. Go to your party and have fun."

He slaps your ass and turns on his heel to return to his office, leaving you to stare at his back with narrowed eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Who does he think he is, letting me do something? He's not my father." You mumble, already hatching a plan in your mind.

A few minutes later you open the front door and pause to yell over your shoulder.

"I'm leaving. Love you!"

"Love you too. Call Top or Kelce when you're ready to leave!"

You try not to let the irritation seep into your voice when you respond, well aware that he'll be down the stairs and pulling you inside before you can process.

"Okay!"

The door slams shut as you jog down the steps to the Uber where Sarah is waiting, and she scoots over to let you in. It was already a war to convince Rafe he didn't need to drive you, and the only way he agreed was if you let one of the guys bring you home.

Letting you get into a car with a stranger sober is one thing, but doing it drunk is absolutely out of the question.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

You shoot daggers at Sarah when she fails to stifle her laugh, and she coughs to cover it up.

"Ask your fucking brother." You grumble, and she gives you an apologetic look.

Twenty minutes later, loud music rings in your ears as you try to maneuver through the crowded house. There are people packed into every corner, and the smell of cheap beer mixed with weed burns your nostrils.

"I'm going to the bathroom real quick." You shout at Sarah, and she nods before trailing behind you.

You grimace when something crunches under your shoe, and do your best to navigate the narrow hallway lined with people making out.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs when you finally reach your destination, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Sarah raises her eyebrows when you plop your bag on the counter and start rummaging, only relenting when you finally find what you're looking for.

Two articles of clothing are dangling from your hands as you give her a mischievous smile and she puts the pieces together.

"You didn't really believe that I'm wearing this the whole time? Come on, Sarah." You giggle, and she gives you a blinding smile.

"You're such a troublemaker and I love it."

She helps you tie the straps behind your back, and looks over the outfit. It's nothing crazy; just a silk crop top and shorts, but it leaves little to the imagination in terms of your figure. It accentuates every curve perfectly, and you admire your reflection.

"Listen, I have to change back before we leave. I'm gonna need your help standing up."

She links her arms with yours and leads you back into the hall with her head leaning on your shoulder.

"Whatever, wherever, whenever. You know I've got you." She promises, and the two of you make your way to the kitchen for drinks.

Topper does a double take when he sees you across the room, and nearly drops his cup of water. He knows you weren't wearing that a few minutes ago because he'd laughed when you walked in covered head to toe.

Rafe called and asked him to stay in the background and watch you, insisting he was going to make you wear a snowsuit. Topper didn't believe him and was shocked that his friend managed to get you to leave the house like that. So imagine his surprise when there are miles of glitter-covered skin on display as laser beams reflect off your legs.

He snaps a picture and sends it to Rafe with a question mark before tucking his phone back in his pocket with a sigh. He doesn't mean to snitch, but he also understands why Rafe is the way he is.

You don't see the way men look at you, but Rafe does. He hears the comments they make under their breath when they think no one is listening. He knows how beautiful and trusting you are, and unfortunately, he knows that men prey on that.

Rafe opens up the message and rubs his hand across his mouth while pacing as he takes in your appearance. He's debating what to do when he accidentally plays the live photo and pauses. He plays it again and bolts to his Rover.

He no longer cares about what you're wearing; he's focused on the man who was shamelessly eye fucking you with a malicious grin.

Your nose scrunches with disgust when you pry your hand away from the sticky countertop, and you take a long swig of your concoction.

"Let's dance!" You shout, and Sarah nods while grabbing your hand to lead the way.

It's not even five minutes before the fun is interrupted, and your hips stop swaying the second you feel someone's arm wrap around your bare waist.

Sarah stops and turns around with a frown when she notices, and she instantly straightens up.

"I've been watching you for a minute. You wanna dance?"

His breath is hot against your ear in the worst way as he presses into your ass, and you try to sidestep him to no avail.

"No thanks."

You attempt to pry his bruising grip off of your flesh, but his fingers only dig in further causing you to wince.

"Oh come on, it's just dancing."

You're just about to whip around and slap him when you see Sarah's eyes widen, and worry washes over you.

"Busted."

Before you can ask what she means, the man is being ripped backward and you stumble a bit at the force.

"She said no, asshole."

The relief of hearing Rafe's voice outweighs the fear of being caught, and you allow him to pull your arm until you're tucked safely behind him.

"Get your own girl, man."

The man laughs and Rafe goes from protective to homicidal as he stands up taller and angles his chin down to stare at him. The slightly shorter man looks between you and Rafe a few times before scoffing and nodding his head.

"Of course."

Rafe ignores him and turns to you, his mouth set in a hard line as you give him a sheepish smile.

"It's not what it looks like."

Rafe's head tilts to the side as his jaw clenches, and you purse your lips.

"Right, I'll just-."

You cut yourself off and point your thumb behind you before taking a step back to let Rafe handle it. His attention turns to Sarah for a split second and he nods his head to the side.

"Find Topper and get home."

He's about to lead you outside when the man decides to press his luck and speak again.

"Just for the future, you shouldn't let her go out looking like a whore if you aren't cool with sharing."

Everything seems to stop as the words hang in the air, and Rafe freezes midstride.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

He turns his head just enough to see over his shoulder, and the man smirks.

"You clearly heard me."

Everyone watches with bated breath, and your entire face contorts as you realize what's about to happen.

"Yeah, and you clearly know better than to say it again."

Rafe takes a step forward, and everyone waits for the hammer to come down.

"Look it's been a long day, so I suggest you turn and run before I take it out on you because I'm really not in the fucking mood."

He watches as the man gulps and backs away before nodding with a devilish grin.

"That's what I thought.

Much to your surprise, it doesn't escalate any further and Rafe is by your side with one long stride.

You give Sarah a small wave and she raises her cup in acknowledgment, not the least bit surprised at the turn of events. When it comes to matters concerning your safety, Rafe has eyes and ears in every corner of the town.

You don't resist when his hand returns to the small of your back and guides you forward, always keeping you in his line of sight. Your head stays down with your eyes glued to the floor as the crowd parts like the

Red Sea and against your better judgment, you flash your Middle finger in the direction of a few snide remarks and giggles.

You don't dare to slow down or look back at Rafe, not wanting to make it worse. You love to push Rafe's buttons on any given day, but you know when you've gone too far and this is not a time for arguing.

You let Rafe direct you toward the car and focus on your stride without looking up once until you stop at the passenger door. You sidestep a bit so he can reach the handle and fight back a small smile.

It was established early on that you're not allowed to open doors; even when Rafe is fuming that rule still holds true.

Rafe's touch is gentle as he helps you into the passenger seat and he slows down just enough to make sure you're buckled before kissing your cheek and returning to his hardass demeanor.

You watch as he rounds to the driver's side and climbs in, his right hand still coming to rest on your thigh like usual. You pick at your nails as he drives toward Tannyhill and put on your best innocent act.

"I can expl-" You start, but your mouth snaps shut when you see Rafe glare at you before turning back to the road.

It's silent for the rest of the drive and fifteen agonizing minutes later, you're trekking up the stairs to your shared bedroom with Rafe. He diverts to the kitchen and you continue on your path, hoping to be asleep before he returns so you can avoid the confrontation.

You're freshly showered and seconds from climbing under the covers when the door finally opens and Rafe walks in slowly. You straighten up and shift back and forth a few times, squirming under his intense gaze as he stares you down.

"I'm sorry." You try, but Rafe just shakes his head and scratches his temple while pacing a few times.

"Why are you so goddamn stubborn? It can work in your favor sometimes but fuck, look at the situations you get yourself into! All because you want to be a disobedient and vindictive brat."

He chuckles under his breath and you gulp, unsure how nasty this is going to get. Rafe will forgive you with a bat of your lashes most of the time, but not right now.

"What if I wasn't there, huh? What if I didn't have Topper keeping an eye on you?"

He gesticulates wildly as your temper starts to rise, and you frown.

"What do you mean you had Topper keeping an eye on me?"

Your hands rest on your hips as you squint across the room at him, and he tries to think of a justification. He comes up empty and your eyes widen as your mouth falls open.

"You are unbelievable!" You shout, and Rafe nearly flinches at the anger directed toward him.

"You don't fucking trust me so you have to have your goons babysit me?!"

Rafe takes a step closer, dark eyes and flared nostrils matching your own as you prepare for an argument.

"How can I trust you when you're a fucking liar, Y/N? You sneak around and put yourself into risky situations just to piss me off!"

Regret consumes him the second the words leave his mouth, and he softens when hurt flashes across your features at the insult and implication. He tries to reach for your hand but it's too late and he knows it; he can see the walls going up as you shut him out and sighs internally.

"Fuck you, Rafe."

The words spew like acid, and Rafe nearly buckles when you step into your cow slippers and open the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

You pause for a split second in the doorway and contemplate before landing on an answer.

"To sleep in Sarah's room. Wouldn't want you in the same bed as a liar and a whore. I mean, who knows if Y/N is even my name?"

His eyes squeeze shut when the door slams, and he sits on the edge of the bed while running over the events of the night. You let yourself into Sarah's room and collapse onto her bed, resting your cheek against your folded arm.

Thankfully she isn't back yet, which means you have the oppurtunity to calm down and process for a moment before inevitably returning to Rafe.

However, you don't get much of a chance before Rafe knocks softly and cracks the door open.

"Can I come in?"

He sounds tired, and part of you does feel bad for ruining his night and keeping him awake. A bigger part of you is fuming at his insinuations and actions, determined to make him suffer.

"No." You answer flatly, and you can almost hear Rafe roll his eyes.

"Okay."

You think for a moment that he actually left but the thought is cut short when the mattress dips behind you.

"You don't seem to be in the mood to talk, so you can just listen."

You don't respond, and keep your face buried away from him. Despite your obnoxious determination to prove a point, Rafe doesn't falter for a second.

He's used to the attitude and grips your arm to move you onto your side with ease.

"It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust them. I hear the way these guys talk about you when they don't know I'm in the locker room and just passing on the street."

The confession causes your anger to start cooling and you willingly shift to be more open to him. As much as you love Rafe, you hate that he's able to disarm you with little to no effort regardless of how pissed off you are.

"Every single one I've caught has paid for it, but I know I can't get them all. They look at you like your prey, and I can't stomach the idea of something happening. They're just waiting for the time to strike, and tonight proved that."

Any and all fight left in your body dissipates, and you feel yourself deflate.

"Why can't you just say that Rafe?" You frown and he rubs his hand down his face with a sigh.

"I don't want you to have to think about it. That's what I'm for; protecting you so you can live freely."

Your heart melts at the sentiment and you close the distance between the two of you.

"That's sweet, Rafe, but I'm not a little kid. I can hold my own better than you think."

He shoots you a skeptical look and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

"Fine, why don't you show me some self-defense moves so I can protect myself?" You suggest, but he doesn't look thrilled at the idea.

"I don't know if that's a go-"

He's cut off by your taunting chuckle as you tilt your head to the side in mock disbelief.

"What? Are you scared?"

His eyes narrow in annoyance, and you smile victoriously the second you know you won.

"Fine. Let's get to bed and I'll take you to the gym tomorrow after my meetings."

You don't get a chance to argue before you're slung over his broad shoulder and whisked back down the hall. Your loud giggles fill the room when he tosses you down on the mattress and climbs in; laughing as he forces you under the blanket and secures you in place against his chest.

"Goodnight. I love you." He mutters, and you hum in acknowledgment before pressing a short kiss to his skin.

"I love you too."

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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fairysluna · 1 year

Text

little wolf.

Cregan's little sister is the only one who can change his mind, which is why Aemond decides to use his charms and convince her to support the Green using some peculiar methods.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Tags/TW: smut (p in v, loss of virginity, f!oral sex, praise, breeding, kinda innocent!kink), teasing, a bit of mean!aemond, slight dubcon, cregan being an overprotective brother, cursing. if something is missing let me know!!

Author's Note: mimor @tvrgvryen sent me this request a few days ago and I had to do it bc i loved it so much. So here it is!

Word Count: 4.9k

Aemond has always been a good observer. He has always noticed the small details, the reason why people acted as they did, the way people treated others. That's why it wasn't hard for him to realize how important you were for your beloved brother Cregan.

The day he first stepped into Winterfell after Vhagar gracefully landed on the snow, he saw how brave Cregan was for stepping between you and the enormous beast. However, that mere gesture exposed the big affection he had for you; his only sister, and with that, Aemond knew what was Lord Stark's greatest weakness… you.

He went to the North with a mission, a task to fulfill, and he was not a man that was known to give up on things. Aemond was resilient, determined. He would not accept a negative answer from the Warden of the North, and even though he knew about the oath and how Starks are famously known for being loyal to their words; he was eager to find his way to gain the North's support.

And his opportunity came up with you; the sweet, kind Lady Stark. Beloved by all, you were also known as the Heart of Winterfell, for it was said that even the small folk held dear for you. Everything that Aemond heard about you were nothing but good words, showing how much people appreciated you, which only impulsed Aemond's bad intentions.

It is true, a Stark never forgets an oath, but the North gathers when the wolf howls… and even though your brother was the visible face of your House, everyone knew that it was you the one that had true power over the masses; your gentleness made you the Queen of the North, and that information was enough for Aemond to start his devious schemes.

It all started at the training yard. The snow had fallen earlier in the morning, covering the ground with a thick layer of snow. He was staring at you as you struggled with a bow and arrow, not being able to hit the bullseye. This would only make you groan with impatience, despair even. Aemond pressed his lips and looked down at his shoes, trying to show himself amused by you wrestling.

"You're too tense, my lady," he said as he slowly walked towards you.

His black fur coat covering his slim shape, his white hair perfectly still despite the crazy wind, his hands at the back of his body. He looked so effortlessly elegant, it almost made you blush.

"My prince," you greeted him, bowing swiftly, "I'm sorry you have to watch this terrible attempt."

"I didn't know women were allowed to train here in the North," he spoke, politely as he stretched his arm to touch the fine wood of the bow you were holding.

"We're not," you replied, "but my brother insists I should be prepared to defend myself, so he forces me to train either way."

"Mhm…" he nodded, "your brother is a clever man. A beauty like yours is the target of many deprived men, he's doing well by letting you learn how to protect yourself."

"But he barely has time to teach me," you complained, placing your arms in position to shoot again, "now he's in a meeting with the Mormonts, and I am here," you let the arrow go, but it didn't even hit the target. "...failing miserably."

Aemond chuckled, and you inevitably blushed at the low sound that came out of him. You stared at him from your peripheral view, analyzing his undeniable beauty and flirtatious smirk which made your heart beat a little too fast.

"You're too tense," he repeated, as he shifted his position until he was behind you.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he squeezed them softly giving you a soft and short massage that made you close your eyes. Soon, one of his hands reached yours, the one that was holding the bow's grip. He wrapped it around yours, and you immediately felt his warmth on your cold skin. It made you gasp silently.

"You see, I'm not so good at using a bow, I think my weapon of choice is the sword," he whispered, getting closer to your ear, his breath smacking against your shivering skin, "but I know things… and I can teach you if you please, my lady."

His nose rubbed against your hair, and your delicious smell almost made him groan. Soon, the prince helped you to fix your position as your breathing was getting heavier and an unknown feeling was installed in your lower belly. You feel the heat even though it was freezing cold, you felt his body pressing against yours leaving a sensation of distress, as if your body was begging you for something.

You feared of someone seeing you; the position was quite compromising, and you were certain your reputation would be stained if someone witnessed such a scandalous scene. It felt too intimate for you, perhaps not so proper for a maiden like you. You would have tried to push him away, but there was something within him that did not allow you to do so; it was as if he had bewitched you with his charms, and you were under a spell from which you were not able to wake up.

"It's simple, my lady," he explained, "you must relax, you must let go," his voice so deep and low against your ear, "come on, no one's watching, you're under no pressure…"

His touch, so delicate and gentle, mixed with his words, which you quickly misinterpreted; 'no one's watching', it sounded more like an invitation rather than words of comfort. You couldn't help but to sigh, a gesture that brought a slight smirk upon Aemond's face.

"Let yourself go, Lady Stark," his voice turned more breathy, rapier. "That's it, so good… now, eyes on the target, don't take your eyes off of it, okay?"

You simply nodded, wildly blushing at his praise. There was a subtle shiver that went to your trembling hands, you cleared your throat trying to play it down.

"Take deep breaths, don't close your eyes," his hands left yours, now going to your abdomen, his nose brushing against your ear as he kept whispering, "good, good girl."

Your teeth captured your lower lip as you held back a whimper. Squirming in your place, you felt weak on the knees as his hands left a squeeze on your hips.

"Now… shoot."

You listened, and your hand let go of the string. Your eyes widened with surprise as the arrow hit close to the bullseye, which was certainly not perfect, but it was an improvement. A smile appeared in your face as you tilted your head to appreciate your achievement, and soon a giggle escaped you.

"Oh, Gods…" you sighed, "I did it."

"You did it," Aemond said, "you did so well."

His words made your face turn to face him, and his lips were just a few inches away from yours. Your breath hitched, as your heart pounded with so much strength that you thought he would be able to hear it… even feel it. His hand traveled upwards your body until it reached the nape of your neck.

For a moment you thought he would kiss you, that his soft-looking lips would dare to touch yours. But suddenly, he pulled away. Few seconds later, footsteps were heard dragging the snow beneath their feet, and soon you found out the reason behind his abrupt reaction.

"Sister!" you heard. The deep and roaring voice of your brother woke you up from your trance, and you turned around to face him.

You saw a frown upon his face as his eyes narrowed. For a moment you thought he saw how close you were with Aemond, but soon his own words proved you wrong.

"Septa has been waiting for you for an hour!" he scolded you, "why are you still here?"

It took you a while to speak, you knew your voice would come out weak and thin if you dared to utter a word in that moment, which not only would make Cregan be suspicious of what happened, but also would embarrass you in front of the charming prince.

Luckily for you, Aemond decided to step in.

"I was helping her train, my lord, I'm sorry for the disruption I might have caused," you looked down at the steps Aemond had left in the snow, right beside yours.

You were quick and subtle once you purposely stepped on them to erase them. Aemond noticed and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, stop your training and go," he demanded, "you might continue tomorrow."

You had no choice but to obey. One last glance was given to Aemond as you bowed to him, saying goodbye. Cregan followed your frame as you entered the castle, and then he turned to look at the prince. Aemond was no fool, he knew Cregan was not ignorant of his intention… he was a man after all, he could see through his facade with no big effort.

However, he did not say anything about it. He just nodded, and then he left leaving Aemond standing alone with the burning desire running down his body.

At first, he planned on just seducing you… but now? Now he will have you. He needed to have you.

That same day, quite late at night, you were found in your chambers, laying on your belly on top of the fur carpet right in front of the warmth of the fireplace. A book was between your hands as your eyes followed the traces of the poetic words that were written in it. The sound of the fire crackling and burning the wood was the only thing you were able to hear until three soft knocks interrupted the quiet calmness of the night.

You barely looked up as you muttered a soft 'come in', turning the page to continue with your reading. The door was opened in a subtle movement that you barely noticed, and soon you heard steps getting close to you.

It wasn't until you were able to see the shoes of that person that you decided to look up, only to find Aemond's grin staring back at you. You immediately sat up, crossing your legs and trying to cover your breasts with the book; the fabric of your nightgown was thin, and you knew that your skin could usually be seen through it if he dared to squint to take a look.

Your body hasn't forgotten about his touch and closeness, and in a certain way it was actually craving for more of that. But you knew it was not proper, you've heard whispers around the castle claiming that he was actually betrothed to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, meaning he already belonged to someone else.

And yet, you couldn't help but to feel the eagerness to touch him.

"My Prince," you said, the shock of seeing him there, sitting on the carpet right beside you was shown in your voice, "what- what are you doing here?"

"I found myself alone and bored in my chambers, so I decided to wander around the castle and the path brought me here… to you," he smiled kindly as he said those last two words. Words that made your heart beat faster and your cheeks turn red, "were you reading?" He asked, pointing at the book that was covering your pebbled nipples.

"Uh… yes," you nodded, shyly, "it's a book about poetry."

"Poetry?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, "Mind if I have a look, little wolf?"

You couldn't help but to wildly blush with the pet name, feeling butterflies inside your belly as you pulled the book out of your chest and left it in his hands. Aemond's eyes inevitably went to see your soft breasts covered by a thin white layer of silky fabric, breathing deep and harsh as he felt his cock twitch inside his pants once he managed to see your nipples through it.

He remained calm, even when the only thing he wanted was to rip that gown out of your body and take you right there. Instead, he just sighed as his fingers elegantly turned the pages, reading some extract of the love poems in the book.

"I see you're a romantic person, my Lady," he commented, without taking his eyes off of the pages, "do you consider yourself a fan of the genre?"

"It's something that I enjoy reading, yes," you nodded.

"I had the impression," he confessed, closing the book and leaving it aside, "have you ever been in love?"

You shook your head, "I don't- I don't think so."

"Mhm…" he sighed, "that’s odd, you're a gorgeous lady, one might have thought you had a lot of suitors waiting for you."

"You're too kind," you said, looking retrained for a few seconds.

"I'm just stating the facts, little wolf," he spoke softly, "It seems like your brother likes to scare them away."

"Them?" You asked confused.

"Your suitors," he clarified, "that's the only reasonable explanation of why you are not married yet."

"He just wants the best for me," you defended him.

"And what would that be?"

"A husband who not only sees me as a womb with legs, but also as something precious, something worthy of love and care," your dreamy voice made Aemond smirk, the naiveness in you amused him in so many ways.

"You're asking for too much in a society like this, don't you think?"

You shrugged, "a girl can only dream."

The prince nodded, "and a man can only fulfill those dreams, am I right?" You remained silent, avoiding his heavy and penetrative stare at all cost, "have you ever been this close to a man before?"

"No…"

"I could tell," he chuckled, a sound that buzzed into your ears and made your mind go fuzzy, "you were quite nervous when I helped you with your bow this morning."

"I don't feel very comfortable with the proximity of men…" you confessed.

"Of all men, or just of me?"

That's when you realized where this was going, and the panic quickly installed in your gut as you swallowed hard. It took you some time, but you finally noticed his true intentions. You knew you had to stop him before things went further.

"My prince, I'm not quite sure what you mean by those words," you started to stand up, tumbling in your knees, "but it's late and it wouldn't be proper for you to be seen in my chambers, so please-"

Your words were interrupted by the sudden action of Aemond, who pulled you closer until you stranded him, your legs at each side of his body as he forced you to sit on his lap, his hands pressed in your hips firmly, not allowing you to escape from his strong grip.

"I think you know what I mean, my lady…" he whispered, leaning closer to your ear only to mutter with his seductive and raspy voice, "I think you can feel it."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the same time you tried to speak, "I- I don't know…"

"Tell me what you felt when I touched you this morning," he commanded, his hands lowering to your thighs, starting to lift the thin fabric of your gown, "was it similar to what you're feeling right now?"

"I… I don't-"

"I sensed your nervousness when I said how good of a girl you are," he chuckled, starting to breathe in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, "does that arouse you, little wolf? Being praised?"

"Prince Aemond, this is not proper, please-" you tried to pull away, but his grip pushed you down once again. Now you were able to feel his hard-on pressing right down your core, which sent you a sensation that caused chills down your spine.

"That's not what I'm asking you," he spoke sternly, massaging your thighs, squeezing them every now and then, "Mhm… my sweet little wolf, you're shaking. Are you nervous now? You don't have to be, I won't hurt you."

"I told you I do not enjoy this," you breathed out, feeling his hands reaching your hips underneath your gown.

"So you're telling me that if I dare to touch between your legs… I would not find your cunt drenching for me?"

His words made you squirm, the blush running to your cheeks as his thumb started to caress your mons pubis. Your body tensed as you widened your eyes, feeling his finger pressing down.

“I- I don’t- my Prince, please stop-” a small moan interrupted your words as he found your clit between your folds. His thumb rubbing it slowly as you closed your eyes; embarrassed that he was touching such a private part of your body.

“Have you ever been kissed, my lady?” He asked, trying to hold back a groan as he felt your slick coating his digit, “Has someone been lucky enough to be the first to claim your beautiful lips?”

You shook your head, Aemond hummed with delight.

“Then I guess I’ll be the first…”

You barely were able to process his words when he pressed his soft lips against yours. Slow movements that were easy for you to follow without much struggle as you held back whimpers of pleasure, for his thumb was still torturing your pearl in a slow and gentle manner.

Your hand fell on his chest, not with the intention of pushing him away. You grasp his thin blouse, catching the fabric between your trembling hands as you felt the tip of his tongue starting to tease your lips. Hesitantly, your lips parted just a few inches, enough to give him space for him to claim your mouth; swirling his tongue against yours as you tried to keep up with his slow and tempting actions.

He was able to taste your inexperience, the way you would doubt your movements before actually doing them was enough proof for him to know that you were not lying; he was the first man to kiss, which now made him more eager to also become the first man to fuck you.

A gasp escaped your swollen lips when, in a sudden movement, he laid your body in the soft carpet, spreading your legs and placing himself between them. Your nightgown was wrinkled around your hips, exposing your glistening folds to him as he kept playing with your now sensitive clit. Soft mewls were heard as he stopped kissing you in order to taste your skin. You felt the wet caresses of his lips in your neck, your jaw, your collarbones, all while your hands were grasping the fur of the carpet beneath you.

His fingers were soon covered in your juices, your hips trying to move against them in an attempt to feel more, but he pulled them away and you widened your eyes once you saw him licking them and humming after he felt your sweet taste against his tongue. Your breath was caught in your throat as you heard him groan.

"My lady, you taste as sweet as you are," he spoke slowly, you blinked a couple times still feeling your mind fuzzy, "do you want a taste?"

You gulped, not entirely sure of what to reply. The words were unable to come out, so all you could was nod.

A careless smile appeared on his face as he left a soft kiss on your cheek, before you realized your legs were on his shoulders and his face buried in your drenching cunt as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure his tongue was providing you.

His slurping was heard, echoing in the room as you tried to push his head away from your pussy, breathing fast and unsteady as he devoured you. You felt his tongue teasing your needy hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, making you moan a bit too loudly. His hands were grabbing your hips tightly, just to make sure you don't escape from him; his fingertips burying in your soft skin as your body writhe under his skilful mouth.

You could feel your own slick slipping down your thigh along with his spit. It was messy, far from being as slow and calm as the kiss he gave you before. He was eager to make you cum; licking, sucking, and fucking your cunt until you were nothing but a moaning mess.

It was over before you even noticed it. With a loud gasp, your eyes rolling and your thighs pressing at each side of Aemond's head, you reached your first orgasm, which finished with you gulping and hiccuping with pleasure. You heard him moaning against your soaking folds, collecting all your slick to then lean over your body.

He took a look at your face, your lips quivering as your cheeks were burning and tinted with a furious red. His fingers reached your chin, and made you open your mouth, which you did without hesitation. His spit fell in your tongue before your glistening eyes closed as you whimpered. You were able to taste yourself in it, the sweetness of your release coating your tongue.

"Swallow it," he commanded, and you quickly obeyed him, "good girl…" he let out a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but to feel an unknown heat running down your body. "See? I told you you were sweet, doesn't it taste good?"

You nodded, sighing.

"So good, so delicious…" he leaned to kiss you again as his hands pulled down your gown, freeing your breasts, "I swear it, my lady, I will not rest until your cunt is mine forever."

His big hands left a soft squeeze on your tits before they went to his pants, untying the lace and pulling them down. His leaking cock was now on your sight, hard and reddish. You barely noticed he took off his shirt as you were too hypnotized seeing that specific part of his body. Aemond immediately noticed your curious eyes, and he teasingly grabbed his cock in his hand only to stroke it a few times before letting it on top of your clit.

"Do you want it, my lady?" He whispered, starting to rub himself on you.

You whined, looking down at the obscene scene of his cock parting your puffy lips.

"Do you want my cock to make you feel good?" He groaned, feeling your slick coating his shaft, "I will give it to you if you ask me… Tell me what you want."

You gulped, trying to pronounce pleas.

"Aemond… I- I want…"

"Tell me, my beautiful lady," he muttered, "tell me what you desire."

"I want you… please… it's hurting, I-"

The head of his cock reached your hole and he slowly started to sink in you. Your eyes widened as a soft cry escaped your throat. Your legs closed as you brought them against your chest, and Aemond groaned in disapproval.

"Come on, darling… keep your legs open for me," he cooed, "I want to see your pretty pussy taking my cock."

He held the back of your knees, keeping your legs folded but spread. His cock was buried in your tight cunt as tears of pain started to fall down your cheeks. A loud cry was heard, louder than all of the others, and Aemond was quick to put his hand on top of your mouth.

"Sh, sh…" he whispered, "It's okay, it'll pass. Just relax, my lady, it will feel so good."

He spreaded you open with one push, your back arched as you struggled to take him. He stayed still for a few seconds before his own lust decided that he could not wait any longer. Your walls were squeezing him deliciously as he started to pound against you, groaning and moaning as the pleasure was taking the best of him.

Grasping on the fur beneath you, you started to sob. Aemond saw the signs of pain in your face and he quickly leaned over you in order to take one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. The feeling that brought you was indescribable, and soon the pain became bearable as his thrusts remained slow but became harder.

Aemond would choke his moans against your tit as his tongue skilfully swirling around it, licking and sucking as he kept fucking you, each thrust going deeper and deeper.

"Fuck…" he sighed, "your pussy is so fucking tight. Made by the Gods just for me."

His words made you drool as the warmth of the fireplace was starting to affect you, making you sweat. His hand left your mouth, now going to play with your swollen and needy clit.

"This little cunt belongs to me now, doesn't it?" he purred against your ear.

"A-Aemond..."

He hummed, "how sweet you sound when you moan my name like that."

"P-please…"

"What is it, my lady?" he teased you, "do you want to cum? Do you want to make a mess on my cock?"

"Y-yes…" you managed to say, choking with your words as he thrusted harder, "Oh, Gods! Yes…"

"That's it, sweet girl…" he praised you, "taking me so well, so good. I'm gonna fill you up, leave you leaking with my cum. Is that what you want?"

"G-Gods… yes, p-please!" you whined.

"Then I guess I have no other choice but to give you what you want…"

A soft chuckle left him as his thrusts became faster. His hips smacking against yours as he gripped your arsecheeks to gain stability. The sound of your slick drenching around his cock echoed in the room as you started to cry out, sobbing with pleasure and begging for more.

Aemond looked at your cunt, and a soft and subtle whine was heard as he saw the way his cock disappeared between your folds. Your pleas would only make him desperate, eager to reach his climax and seeing your abused hole leaking his pearly seed. The image alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck, so good… so fucking good," he lifted your hips, pounding restlessly against you as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as his breathing turned unsteady, "such a perfect pussy, squeezing me so fucking good."

You clenched around him, and that was what sent him over the edge, spilling his big loads of cum inside of you at the same time that your release exploded. Your cries were heard even in the hallway, as the intensity of your orgasm took over your shaky body. The feeling of him stuffing you with his seed sent you a shiver down your spine that made you twitch your hips.

Aemond leaned over you to kiss you, pounding lazily as he was coming down from his orgasm. You receive the sloppy kiss as your eyes were closing by themselves, too worn out to keep them open.

But then, Aemond decided to speak.

"Look at you, sweet girl…" he said with an odd tone that you haven't heard from him until now, "what would your big brother say if he saw you now, huh? Filled with my seed, a mess under my touch."

Your breathing stopped for a second and only then you realized what you did. You opened your eyes only to find a smirk on his face, and your heart dropped.

"You probably will be swollen with my bastard in a few months… then what would the people think of you? The Heart of the North carrying the Prince's bastard child…"

"N-no…" you muttered, starting to softly push his chest.

"Mhm, yes…" he scoffed, "unless I take you as my bride, of course."

A shaky breath came out of your nose as tears of despair fell down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivered as your gleaming eyes looked at his.

"W-would you… would you take me as your wife?"

Aemond smirked, starting to pull out of you. He hummed delighted with the view as he saw the pearly drops leaking out of you. He sighed, putting his pants on and fixing his clothes.

"If your brother decides to join his forces with ours, I will take you as my bride and no one will know this happened before our marriage…" he said, standing up and looking down at you. "But, if he decides to join my sister's army…"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence for you to know the consequences of that. The panic ran down your body as you sat in the carp carpet, covering your nudity with your nightgown and crying.

"How- how am I supposed to-?"

"Cregan Stark will do anything his little sister commands," he interrupts you, taking a few steps towards you to gently grab your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him, "so you better choose the right option, my lady."

He left a caress in your cheek with a smug smile on his face. He abandoned your chambers, letting you there feeling helpless and a bit scared.

It wasn't a big surprise for him when a few days later Lord Stark gave him the good news… and Aemond fulfilled his words, marrying you a month after the North joined the war and helped King Aegon II win the final battle against Rhaenyra.

What was a surprise, was the birth of your first child, a month earlier than what the Maesters expected.

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hollowed-theory-hall · 16 days

Text

Harry was never really Dumbledore's man

So, in HBP Harry says himself:

“Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you,” said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Dumbledore’s man through and through, aren’t you, Potter?” “Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

(HBP, 348)

But, I'm here to argue Harry actually has many many doubts and reservations about Dumbledore throughout all books (even HBP), and I find it interesting how Harry convinced the Wizarding world (and the readers) that he's Dumbledore's man when he isn't. Not really.

(Just makes me all the more annoyed at him calling his son Albus...)

I'm going to go through some examples of Harry showing his doubts about Dumbledore way before book 7. Because Harry is an abused, distrusting boy, and Dumbledore isn't actually an exception to that until very late into the books. And even when Harry chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions, he never fully trusts his judgment.

“D’you think he meant you to do it?” said Ron. “Sending you your father’s cloak and everything?” “Well, ” Hermione exploded, “if he did — I mean to say that’s terrible — you could have been killed.” “No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”

(PS, 217)

This quote above is from the ending of Philosopher's Stone and the outlook Harry, Ron, and Hermione have on Dumbledore and his behavior is the same as seen in the later books. So I wanted to talk about each of them and how they see Dumbledore because this quote really sets the tone for the rest of the series.

Ron is doubtful and distrustful. The situation is odd, and he's clever, he analyzed the situation and came to a frightening conclusion — the whole ordeal seemed planned by Dumbledore. And Ron isn't scared of voicing this question.

Hermione, while not always a rule-follower, respects Dumbledore and his authority. A lot. So, she doesn't believe Dumbledore could've planned it as it would reflect badly on his character and authority. Hermione is a very loyal person, and once she decides she respects someone she is willfully blind to their flaws (we see it with her later in the series).

Harry, while he's clever enough to notice the same things Ron did and come to the same conclusion — that Dumbledore planned for an 11-year-old to face Voldemort — he attributes good intentions to Dumbledore. Harry sees the situation and draws his conclusions, but chooses to hope/believe Dumbledore's intentions were good ones.

Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others. . . . At last he forced himself to speak. “You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. “Not what?” snapped Riddle. “Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(CoS, 282)

This is one of the scenes people call to to show how much faith Harry has in Dumbledore (even Dumbledore himself), the thing is, Harry says (in his mind) he's just saying things to try and scare Tom. To try and buy time, or unbalance Tom so he may have a chance at escape.

The important note is that Harry doesn't actually believe what he's saying to Tom. He's just saying what he thinks would bother Tom the most.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

(GoF, 310)

This part about telling no one about his wand's connection to Voldemort is true. He never told anyone by that point in GoF. Not Ron, not Hermione, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius.

As I mentioned above, Harry is abused and distrustful. He's not at all Dumbledore's perfect soldier who trusts him with everything. In GoF, Harry decides against telling Dumbledore about his dreams and the pain in his scar:

“Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I’ll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. . . . Maybe there’s something in there about curse scars. . . .” Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. [...] As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, fulllength wizard’s robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write? Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter. Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.

(GoF, 21)

Harry doesn't wish to share secrets with Dumbledore, nor does he feel comfortable to go to him with his troubles (his go-to adult while Sirius was around was always Sirius). Again, Hermione is mentioned as the one who trusts Dumbledore's authority, in Harry's head, but he's right, he knows her well.

Harry actually spends a good portion of the series purposefully trying to hide information from Dumbledore. (I'm saying 'trying ' because Dumbledore always found out, but not because Harry told him).

“He seemed to think it was best,” said Hermione rather breathlessly. “Dumbledore, I mean.” “Right,” said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig’s beak and found that he was not at all sorry. “I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —” Ron began. “Yeah?” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?” “Well, no — but that’s why he’s had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time -” Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him. “Didn’t work that well, though, did it?” said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. “Had to look after myself after all, didn’t I?” “He was so angry,” said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. “Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary.” “Well, I’m glad he left,” Harry said coldly. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer.”

(OotP, 63)

Harry is angry here, true, but he doubts Dumbledore's idea of what's "safe" for him. He's actually glad for the dementors because he doubts Dumbledore would've brought him over if it wasn't an emergency.

And Harry is right to be doubtful and suspicious. He's right that he's less safe at the Dursleys than at Grimmauld Place. He's right to feel angry and betrayed at literally everyone knowing he's being followed except for him. He's right Dumbledore probably wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't for the dementor attack. Harry is correct in each and every one of his assessments of Dumbledore's character and decisions here.

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It’s more like . . . his mood, I suppose. I’m just getting flashes of what mood he’s in. . . . Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. . . . He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I’m feeling it when he’s pleased too. . . .” There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building. “You’ve got to tell someone,” said Ron. “I told Sirius last time.” “Well, tell him about this time!” “Can’t, can I?” said Harry grimly. “Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?” “Well then, Dumbledore —” “I’ve just told you, he already knows,” said Harry shortly, getting to his feet, taking his cloak off his peg, and swinging it around himself. “There’s no point telling him again.” Ron did up the fastening of his own cloak, watching Harry thoughtfully. “Dumbledore’d want to know,” he said. Harry shrugged. “C’mon . . . we’ve still got Silencing Charms to practice . . .”

(OotP, 382)

Remember I mentioned Harry hiding things from Dumbledore? This is one of such occasions. There are more in GoF that I didn't copy, but this is an example of Voldemort-related, dangerous information Harry is hiding from Dumbledore because he doesn't trust him and doesn't feel comfortable telling him things.

“It’s lessons with Snape that are making it worse,” said Harry flatly. “I’m getting sick of my scar hurting, and I’m getting bored walking down that corridor every night.” He rubbed his forehead angrily. “I just wish the door would open, I’m sick of standing staring at it —” “That’s not funny,” said Hermione sharply. “Dumbledore doesn’t want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or he wouldn’t have asked Snape to teach you Occlumency. You’re just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons.” “I am working!” said Harry, nettled. “You try it sometime, Snape trying to get inside your head, it’s not a bundle of laughs, you know!” “Maybe . . .” said Ron slowly. “Maybe what?” said Hermione rather snappishly. “Maybe it’s not Harry’s fault he can’t close his mind,” said Ron darkly. “What do you mean?” said Hermione. “Well, maybe Snape isn’t really trying to help Harry. . . .” Harry and Hermione stared at him. Ron looked darkly and meaningfully from one to the other. “Maybe,” he said again in a lower voice, “he’s actually trying to open Harry’s mind a bit wider . . . make it easier for You-Know —” “Shut up, Ron,” said Hermione angrily. “How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order, that ought to be enough.” “He used to be a Death Eater,” said Ron stubbornly. “And we’ve never seen proof that he really swapped sides. . . .” “Dumbledore trusts him,” Hermione repeated. “And if we can’t trust Dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

(OotP, 554)

Again we see the same exact dynamic from first year. Hermione is loyal to Dumbledore, not even considering he might be wrong about something, or not have their best interests at heart. Ron and Harry on the other hand, are both open to the possibility that things aren't so simple. They don't think Dumbledore is intentionally harming Harry, but they think he's wrong about Snape. Something Hermione, Arthur and Molly would never consider.

(This is actually the most annoying thing in Hermione's character for me, her unshakable faith in Dumbledore, who doesn't deserve her trust)

“. . . so you see what this means?” Harry finished at a gallop. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to. No, listen to me!” he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. “I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —” He shoved the Marauder’s Map into Hermione’s hands. “You’ve got to watch him and you’ve got to watch Snape too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the D.A., Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he’s put extra protection in the school, but if Snape’s involved, he’ll know what Dumbledore’s protection is, and how to avoid it — but he won’t be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?” “Harry —” began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

(HBP, 552)

Even in book 6, the book Harry grows the most comfortable and trusting towards Dumbledore, even then, he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He thinks (and somewhat rightly so because he doesn't know of Snape and Dumbledore's plan) that Dumbledore is wrong about Snape. that Dumbledore is wrong about Malfoy. Harry doesn't trust that whatever protections Dumbledore would leave would be enough (and they weren't).

Even at the end of HBP, the point in the series where Harry has the most faith in Dumbledore, Harry still doesn't trust Dumbledore's judgment or his ability to protect the school. Even after Dumbledore calls Harry out on it, telling him the safety of the students is important to him, Harry still tells Ron and Hermione to get the DA to protect the school without notifying Dumbledore.

And Dumbledore raised Harry to feel responsible for the school's safety, Harry is doing what he was "bred" to do. But he does it behind Dumbledore's back, because like every adult, Harry deep down expects to be let down. After all, he's used to saving the school himself.

So, no, Harry never really trusted Dumbledore fully. At least, not Dumbledore's judgment. Harry does believe Dumbledore's intentions are good for the most part, even if ineffective.

“He never told me his sister was a Squib,” said Harry, without thinking, still cold inside. “And why on earth would he tell you?” screeched Muriel, swaying a little in her seat as she attempted to focus upon Harry [...] Where was saintly Albus while Ariana was locked in the cellar? Off being brilliant at Hogwarts, and never mind what was going on in his own house!” “What d’you mean, locked in the cellar?” asked Harry. “What is this?” Doge looked wretched. Auntie Muriel cackled again and answered Harry. [...] Numbly Harry thought of how the Dursleys had once shut him up, locked him away, kept him out of sight, all for the crime of being a wizard. Had Dumbledore’s sister suffered the same fate in reverse: imprisoned for her lack of magic? Had Dumbledore truly left her to her fate while he went off to Hogwarts to prove himself brilliant and talented?

(DH, 135-137)

And in Deathley Hollows, Harry is very quick to start questioning and doubting Dumbledore. Especially when compared to Hermione:

“Harry—” But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose? Ron, Dumbledore, the phoenix wand . . . “Harry.” She seemed to have heard his thoughts. “Listen to me. It—it doesn’t make very nice reading—” “Yeah, you could say that—” “—but don’t forget, Harry this is Rita Skeeter writing.” “You did read that letter to Grindelwald, didn’t you?” “Yes, I—I did.” She hesitated, looking upset, cradling her tea in her cold hands.

(DH, 311)

Harry is hurt, he feels betrayed, because while he never 100% trusted Dumbledore's judgment, he trusted his intentions. He trusted Dumbledore was good and cared for him. He feels cold and betrayed, showing trust in his intentions. But his readiness to accept Skeeter's and Muriel's accusations so quickly shows he always had his doubts about Dumbledore and they never really left, even if he wanted to trust him, he never did, not fully.

Hermione, on the other hand, who was always loyal and trusted Dumbledore (both his intentions and judgment) 100%, tries to rationalize Dumbledore's actions and convince herself everyone who says bad things about him is lying.

Harry doesn't. Because out of the Golden Trio, Hermione was always Dumbledore's woman, Ron and Harry... not really. Not as much.

“That old berk,” muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. “Thought the sun shone out of my brother’s every office, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it.” Harry kept quiet. He did not want to express the doubts and uncertainties about Dumbledore that had riddled him for months now. He had made his choice while he dug Dobby’s grave, he had decided to continue along the winding, dangerous path indicated for him by Albus Dumbledore, to accept that he had not been told everything that he wanted to know, but simply to trust. He had no desire to doubt again; he did not want to hear anything that would deflect him from his purpose. He met Aberforth’s gaze, which was so strikingly like his brothers’: The bright blue eyes gave the same impression that they were X-raying the object of their scrutiny, and Harry thought that Aberforth knew what he was thinking and despised him for it. “Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much,” said Hermione in a low voice. “Did he now?” said Aberforth. “Funny thing how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he’d left ’em well alone.”

(DH, 478)

More of how Harry thinks about Dumbledore, showing, again, how he always had his doubts and reservations but he chooses to trust Dumbledore's intentions because otherwise, he doesn't think he has any hope to defeat Voldemort. He chooses to keep following Dumbledore's path because he has no real choice but to trust what he sees as the only path that'll lead to Voldemort's destruction. But Harry has plenty of doubts about Dumbledore.

Hermione, on the other hand, has little to no doubts. She doesn't allow herself to doubt.

And this pattern, of Harry doubting Dumbledore again and again, never truly trusting him, just trusting his plan will kill Voldemort... like, how does that lead Harry to want to name his kid 'Albus'? I just don't get it...

TL;DR

Harry likes to say he's Dumbledore's man, but he always had his reservations, even when he choose to ignore them since trusting Dumbledore's plan felt like his only chance at survival. Hermione is much more trusting of Dumbledore than Harry is.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #harry potter meta #hp meta #hollowedtheory #hp theory #harry james potter #harry potter analysis #albus dumbledore

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judasgot-it · 1 month

Text

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"

Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here

You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.

He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.

And for you.

You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.

A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.

”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“

You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.

He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.

”What are you, an animal?“

He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.

”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“

You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.

“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”

“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”

Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.

His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.

"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."

He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.

What an asshole.

"How far is the inn?"

"Close. I'm not telling you."

Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.

"What? Why."

He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.

"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."

Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.

Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.

"Maybe you really are just an animal."

"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"

Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.

"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."

Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.

"What are you doing?"

You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.

"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."

There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.

What an asshole.

This was a nightmare.

"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."

Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.

"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"

The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.

"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."

"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"

You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.

What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?

"It's just the rules. I don't make them."

"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"

You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.

It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.

Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.

Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.

The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.

"This is rather improper of you-"

Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.

It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry."

Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.

"Here. Um..."

There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.

He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.

"fhanks."

"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."

"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.

Still ruining your shirt.

"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."

Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.

It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.

He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.

It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.

"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.

He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.

For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.

Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.

Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.

It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.

"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."

There was a long moment of silence.

It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.

But this was Orter's shirt.

"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."

You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.

It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.

Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.

There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.

"Orter. I said we can share."

"I'd rather not. It's improper."

"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"

"Sharing a bed."

You groaned, frustrated.

"Shut up, virgin."

That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.

"You are insufferable."

"Now that is improper."

The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.

"You should sleep."

"I am, Orter."

"Right."

His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.

You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.

What a strange, strange man.

Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.

Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.

#mashle x reader #orter madl x reader #orter madl #theres like no tags....#anyway did this take forever to write? yea #sowwy....#judas valentines event

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