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azrielslittleslut · 1 month ago

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Tarquin x Fem!Reader

Period Sex/Praise/Romantic Sex

Warnings: smut, p in v, mention of blood, period sex, NSFW, praise

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: this is my humble petition for more Tarquin fics.

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The Summer Court was truly beautiful, with its sandy beaches and endless blue water. You longed to be out there amongst the sea of people, wading through the warmth of the ocean. You wanted to feel the sea spray on your face and the feeling of the sand between your toes. You wanted to feel the sun, warming your skin and body in only the way the sun here could.

Instead, you were curled up on the bed in the fetal position, your hands clutching your stomach as wave after wave of sharp pain shot through your abdomen.

You had been having your bi-annual cycles for centuries now, but they never got easier. You had tried everything- teas, herbs, magical medicines- but nothing had ever worked, other than being knocked unconscious by one of the healers. The best way to deal with them, you had learned, was to just lie in bed and try not to die as your cycle ran its course.

You were so distracted by the pain that you barely heard the door to your bedroom open, followed by the calming scent of a sea breeze mixed with jasmine. "My love?" Tarquin asked, his voice soft. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned in response, the pain too great for you to form words. Why did being a female have to hurt so much?

Tarquin gently sat down on the bed, careful not to move you around too much. His handsome face was twisted in concern as he looked down at you, his turquoise eyes full of anxiety. "Is there anything I can do?" He placed a warm hand on your lower belly as he spoke, his touch a comfort.

You mastered yourself enough to say, "I think it would hurt less if you were to take a dagger and shove it through my uterus. Perhaps you could try that?" Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, thanks to hours spent groaning in pain. "Just put me out of misery, Quinny."

Despite the gravity of your words, Tarquin smiled at the sound of your nickname for him. The two of you have been lovers for years now, but that name always eased something in his chest. "I would never do that, sweetheart. I'm sorry you're in so much pain." He paused for a moment. "I was talking to a healer earlier, about how bad you're cycles are."

You looked up at him with blurry vision. He was wearing his crown, you realized, the sapphire and white gold looking like waves on top of his white hair. "What did they say?" you asked, though you assumed they had not told him anything you didn't already know.

"They gave me a way to help you... if you are willing, of course." There was something darker in his voice, almost like nervousness. But that would be insane- Tarquin was never nervous around you.

You sighed, rolling over onto your side to face him fully. "I've tried everything. Nothing has worked for centuries, so I don't think anything they would suggest would help." You grabbed the hand that was still on your stomach, your fingers lacing with his. "Thank you for trying though, love. That means the world to me."

Tarquin shook his head, and you swore you could see his dark skin blush. "No," he murmured, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours. His bright eyes had darkened to the color of the deep sea, a color you only saw when he was writhing in pleasure. "Have you ever tried... having sex?"

For a few moments, you could only blink as you processed his words. Did he really want you when you were... like this? Did he not find you disgusting?

Tarquin must have sensed where your thoughts had gone because he leaned forward and placed a palm on your cheek. "You are beautiful in every way, my darling. You are perfect, and I would never find anything about you disgusting." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "Forgive me for saying anything. I only want to make you feel better. I hate seeing you in pain."

Your eyes filled with tears at the tenderness of his words. You had thought about making love with him during your cycle before. Especially since you seemed to be more sensitive and needy during it, but you had never dared to bring it up to him. But now...

"Tarquin," you whispered, moving your body up to reach for him. "I need you. Please." The pain you felt in your belly was nothing compared to your growing desire, and all you wanted was him.

Tarquin chuckled softly as he moved over you, pressing you down onto the bed. "There's no need to beg, love. I will make you feel so very good." He began to kiss down your neck, moving his hands down to the hem of your nightdress.

As he began to raise it up, you froze, suddenly aware of what he would see when it was removed. "Quinny," you breathed. "Maybe we should do this in the bath? I don't want it to be messy."

His brows furrowed for a moment as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. You gasped as you felt a warm fabric appear under your body, the softness of it against your thighs. You glanced down and smiled to yourself as you saw a towel beneath you.

"Always one step ahead, are you?" you asked with a giggle, reaching up to pull him back down to you.

Tarquin's lips were warm and soft against yours as he kissed you gently. "I'm nothing if not prepared."

The kisses deepened, and soon the room was filled with the sound of your soft moans. He kissed down your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys along your sensitive flesh. You were so caught up in his lips on you that you didn't flinch when he raised your nightgown, exposing you to the air.

"Lift for me," he whispered against your skin. You obeyed him, staying silent as he gently removed the clothing from your body. Your nipples hardened from the chill in the air, but Tarquin wasted no time in putting his mouth on them.

He expertly licked and flicked your nipples, switching back and forth between your breasts, giving them equal amounts of attention. "Feels so good," you moaned as you threw your head back against the pillows.

Tarquin hummed as he deftly started undoing the ties that held his tunic together. You bit your lip as the beautiful skin of his chest was revealed, filled with muscles and scars. You roamed your hands over his body, digging your nails into his skin, not caring if you left marks.

He paused as he looked down to your pussy, and you felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. "So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes full of love. "Every part of you is beautiful."

"Thank you," you said quietly. He always had a way of making you feel so loved and seen, no matter the circumstance. You were overwhelmed with so much love and adoration for this male, and you thanked all the gods for him.

Tarquin pulled back just enough to remove his pants, his eyes on your face. "Do you want me to touch you?"

You thought for a moment. He normally took his time teasing you and drawing out your pleasure, but that was not what you wanted now. "No," you responded finally. "I just want your cock inside of me."

He smiled as he freed his hard length from his trousers, and you licked your lips as his thigh muscles flexed as he removed the rest of his pants. "I love it when you tell me what you want. So bold for me."

You welcomed him in your arms as he once again hovered over you, his face inches from yours. Slowly, he pushed in, and you gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to slowly thrust into you.

"You feel so good, my love," he moaned into your neck. "You were made for me."

Your back arched as he rolled his hips, hitting that deep spot inside of you that had your vision go white. You were normally sensitive, but this felt way better than usual. You had always heard that females were more sensitive during their cycles, but you had never thought it to be true.

Damn were you wrong.

Every thrust of his hips had loud moans escaping your lips. "Yes, yes, yes," you moaned as he kissed you and ran his hands lovingly along your body. He worshipped you with his cock, his body, with every part of him.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Tarquin asked, his hips pounding into you harder. He reached down and started to gently rub your clit with his thumb, but it was enough to send you over the edge.

A ragged gasp escaped your lips as you came, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Tarq-" you tried to say his name, but your body was overtaken with wave after wave of pleasure.

Tarquin smiled as he kissed you, swallowing your moans. "That's my good girl," he praised, his voice low. After a few more powerful thrusts, he came and you sighed as you felt his warmth fill you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stared at each other with lazy smiles on your face, basking in the afterglow of your joining. It was always like this with him, always full of tenderness and care.

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, breathing in his scent. "I feel better," you admitted. It was true- the near mind-bending pain from earlier had subsided to a dull ache. Why hadn't the healers suggested this centuries ago? "Thank you, Quinny."

Tarquin chuckled as he pulled out of you, settling himself on his knees. He looked down, and you followed his gaze to the ruined towel on the bed.

You winced. He had helped you clean up during your cycles before, but it was always slightly embarrassing. You fought the urge to look at his softening cock, knowing it would be covered in blood. "I feel gross now."

In a swift movement, Tarquin hauled you up in his arms, and you distantly heard the sound of the bath water running. "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" he said cheerfully, his face full of warmth.

You smiled as you leaned your head against his chest. "Always so good to me," you murmured. "Do you think you would be up for round two in the bath? There won't be a mess-."

You even weren't able to finish your sentence before Tarquin sprinted to the bathroom.

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#tarquin #tarquin acotar #summer court #acotar fanfic #tarquin smut #acotar smut #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #dee writes #acotar #acotar fic #acotar imagine #tarquin x reader #tarquin x you #kinktober 2024

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giigil · 1 month ago

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9.29: ⛧ ﹒He's at the end of his days.

tw: suicide

notes: remember when i said i was going on a break? apparently i have covid and i'm like in this chokehold that is vampire!satoru x angel!user that this is all i'm in the mood for right now.

Life had the penchant of screwing him over.

It allowed that bastard Suguru Geto to walk in and bless him with the curse of immortality—a sentence of endless bloodshed and loneliness—something he wouldn’t wish even on his worst enemy.

Fueled by the anger and hurt as a fledgling left to fend for himself in a world unbeknownst to him, he led a destructive path, overwhelmed by his unquenchable thirst and immense strength. As a result, he killed countless humans who had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The higher-ups had a fit after they learned of his existence. His actions had the entire vampire society in an uproar; however, they had no control over a creature like him. He’d always been too powerful for them to truly do anything. So they let him be, cleaning up the remnants he’d left behind during his frenzies.

Luckily for them, after hundreds of years of walking the Earth and living a meaningless existence in the persistent cycle of killing and feeding, Satoru didn’t see much of a point in continuing on.

˚₊‧꒰ა. .໒꒱ ‧₊˚

He sits on the ground of a dark alleyway, propped against a brick wall. His blindfold’s long since fallen from his eyes and lays on the cement; he’s fatigued and weak from not feeding for the past few days. It’s a slow and painful way to go, but he considers it warranted after everything he’s done.

When he hears footsteps approaching him, he opens one eye to see someone standing before him. That’s when he realizes…

An angel. A sardonic grin forms on his lips.

“One of God’s little servants has graced me with their presence,” he bites out with a cynical laugh. “What? Here to put me out of my misery?”

He welcomes it.

#giigil #character ai #bots by marny #character ai bot #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenario #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru x you #jjk scenarios

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call-me-copycat · 1 year ago

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The Weight of Regret

So... It seems I can't save requests to drafts without them disappearing... なぜこうなるのか…( ꐦ•᷄ὤ•᷅)و

I deeply apologize if I've never received your ask! I have many requests waiting right now, but now that I know about this I'll make sure to try my best to keep them from disappearing (_๑óωò)_

*I FORGOT TO SCREENSHOT IT!! NOO ｡°꒰ ՞ ´ ᗣ`°꒱°｡

➤ Welcome: Links to all my masterlists, rules for requests, and some info about me (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

▶ [CHARACTERS]: Dadzawa x Daughter Reader (platonic)

▶ [GENRE]: Hurt/Comfort + angst

▶ [SUMMARY]: You've always struggled with smoking, and it tears away at you until you're caught. Will you get into trouble, or will you be spared and helped?

▶ [WORD COUNT]: 6,868

▶ [WARNINGS]:

- This one is rather angsty all throughout

- Mental breakdowns

- Smoking (obviously)

- Mentions of addiction

A deep inhale. The smoke filling your lungs gave off a comforting feeling that temporarily masked the guilt that ate away at you. A heavy exhale. The remnants of your action shamelessly filling the air in a heavy cloud of smoke.

It was a tiresome night, and stress was breaking apart your mind as exams rode closer and closer to the present day. Too many things had to be done at that moment, and even more things were left undone or unfinished, waiting for you to come back and complete them. You didn't know when that time would come though.

It all seemed so heavy. You'd push yourself to complete the burdensome amount of classwork you were assigned and then will yourself to train on your quirk. You'd repeat this cycle day after day, but you never seemed to gain any benefits from doing all this. It seemed as though all your efforts were in vain. You weren't much of a suck-up, but there were still small expectations that at least someone would notice how hard you were pushing yourself. Alas, that day never came.

No one else seemed to be struggling this much. It caused your mind to wander where you didn't want it to. You began to think... Were you falling? Was there something wrong with you? Were you not cut out for the Hero Course? Troubling thoughts such as these began to slowly litter your mind. Beginning like a small weed, they festered and grew to unimaginable proportions.

They began to tear apart your sanity, and it felt as though you were having an argument with your own brain every single day. It was exhausting, and horribly painful to endure. But you didn't let anyone know. You couldn't. They'd think you were insane. Or they'd baby you, seeing you as too unstable to be a hero one day. All the work and effort you put in would all be wasted without anything to show for it.

Endure. That's all that rang about your head. All you had to do was to keep yourself moving. To endure it, that's what made a hero after all, right?

Too bad no one told you how pointless it all felt. It seemed as though you were spiralling, into an endless pit of misery that welcomed lost and pained souls into its gaping mouth. It was times like these that sparked the flame of your habit.

Twisting the white stick around your fingers, you thought back to how it started while staring into the flickering yellow flame at the end.

It was all too much that day. It was too much everyday, really, but that day in particular had hit you hard and knocked everything out of you without any preparation time. A misaligned testing schedule, a broken phone, a dropped dinner. Everything seemed to go wrong for no apparent reason. You wanted to burst into tears, but as a last resort you willed it away.

Your mind had been running a marathon, and you were exhausted beyond belief from the work your class had been put through. You had originally walked into your father's room to ask him if you could have some help on an assignment you had been struggling with, but it quickly changed.

Looking around Aizawa's room, you didn't see him anywhere in sight. You saw some of his things littered about the room, not particularly messy but in an organized chaos kind of way. Realizing he must've been busy with something or called by someone, you sighed and went to exit back to your own room not too far away. However, something caught your eye.

A white box was partially sticking out from under his work bag, and although you knew what it was you still lifted the bag to see anyways. A clean, already opened box of cigarettes met your drained and exhausted gaze. It was no secret Aizawa was a smoker, in fact a good chunk of the teachers smoked every now and then. However, unlike the others, you noticed your father never really talked about it openly. He'd answer questions briefly before moving the topic of discussion, and that was about as much as you got out of him.

Memories of him scooting you back inside the house when you were younger flashed across your eyes, as he always wanted you to be somewhere else when he was submitting to his slight addiction. It was almost like an unspoken rule, but it always infuriated you how he never outright told you anything.

You didn't have time to read in between the lines. Pushing yourself to simply get out of bed was a struggle, so that's probably why you weren't thinking clearly that night. All the tests, assignments, criticizing, and sleepless nights bursted throughout your mind, burning your thoughts on the rising anger.

You hadn't had time to think. What were you so angry about that night? You don't remember. Possibly the work without reward. Or the unspoken sayings. Or the fiery thoughts that charred your mind everyday and night. Who knows.

But what you did caused a chain. A chain that you wished never existed. Looking at the open box was tempting. But you were a good kid, right? You got good grades, you treated everyone decently, you did as you were expected. But what about you? You hadn't thought about that. And the rage filled your consciousness once again, fueling your shaky fingers to nab a single stick from the box before running out of there.

Only, you didn't know what to do when you got back to your room. You had clutched it to your chest, panting from the run. You had never even held a cigarette before, so you took the time to examine it. You didn't think it looked like much, but you heard it caused nasty effects and addiction that was overall very hard to cope with. There wasn't much you heard spoken about it, except for maybe a passing stranger on the streets.

It was seen as a taboo. To smoke was to throw yourself into being delinquent. You'd be seen as one of those bad kids that got tattoos and wore spiky clothing. Only... That's what you were taught, but seeing average people like your father, or even Nezu smoke every now and then debated that thought.

You wished you threw it away. Burned it without putting it in your mouth. Anything but smoking it.

A "cancer stick", a "coffin nail", you had heard it go by many names. It all worried you, but the thrill of doing something so wrong, of doing something just for you... It excited you for once. You didn't care that it was bad, nor did you care that you'd come to regret your actions. Life was heavy and cold, quiet and unforgiving. You needed something to pick you back up, to distract you from the swirling winds of reality that screeched outside the flames of the smoke that shielded you.

You lit it, watching the flame flicker. That was your last chance to throw it away. Too bad you listened to impulse instead. You certainly learned your lesson. Putting it to your lips was foreign, and it felt so dirty. The first inhale was the worst, leaving you in a coughing fit and a state of confusion and irritation on the lack of soothing that was supposed to come from it.

After trying again, it got easier for you. And easier. A little too easy. You sat there, enjoying the vague calmness that washed over you as the hot nicotine filled your lungs, pushing away everything that once hurt. It was refreshing, and you wanted more. You wanted a stronger escape, one where you were nothing but a floating blob in your head. Unfortunately for you, the cigarette ran down too far, the slight burn ripping you away from your temporary euphoria.

You watched the little flame burning the paper down in present day, eyes empty and brain too numb to cope properly. The memories haunted you, but in a way it had become routine. Although you knew it was bad, and although you knew the effects, you couldn't tear yourself away from it.

Addiction had long since clung to your head, taking control of your thoughts and behaviors. You soon found yourself doing things you wouldn't have before, your limbs being puppeteered by a broken mind. It spread, until there wasn't a single part of you that wasn't succumbed to this "infection", as you called it.

You never stole at least, you had already succumbed to one of the drops in life, and you certainly wouldn't let yourself fall even further. You couldn't. Knowing the look in your father's eyes if he were to find out... It was haunting. But it was the only form of restraint that kept you sane in a way.

You worked small jobs when you could, such as helping yardwork or cleaning. Being a student left no time for a side job, and even if it did you knew you definitely wouldn't have enough energy for one. So you had to make do with what you had.

You'd always buy from smaller stores, or ones that were in lower quality, trying to diminish the risk that they'd ask for your age. You only got asked once, but you panicked and said you were buying it for a family member. You never went back, but of course you were still new to the way things were at that time.

It'd long since grown into something that seemed ever so permanent, and you were only counting down the days until you knew you wouldn't be able to go a day without a huff.

A soul contaminated and controlled far too young by a never-ending, all-controlling force that seemed so powerless at the time. You couldn't brush the disgust from your mind each time you reached into the box. It was an obsession you couldn't bear to be a part of any longer.

That one event led to others, creating an even worse cycle for you to be a part of. The chain of events leading all throughout your life until it reached to where you were now.

Looking at the pale paper tube lit aflame in your hands, the memories only served to cause more self-loathing and repulsiveness. Sighing, you brought it back to your mouth once more.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The morning after was one that mirrored every other awakening that had happened before it. You threw on your uniform, ate a quick breakfast, and went off to UA with your father.

As you walked through the halls in the early morning, thoughts of the previous night's memories flashed through your mind once more. Peeking over at Aizawa from the side of your eye, you wondered if he could possibly have known how to erase this addiction. With all his added years of experience with things of all sorts, he always had an answer to everything you asked of him. But this was different.

Lately you had been thinking of different ways on how you could force yourself to quit. The constant fear of discovery and disappointment continually unraveled your tattered mind, making it only so much worse to suffer at the hands of your own mind.

Too lost in thought, your attention was torn away from the delicate and intricate rays of sunlight shining through the tall glass windows of UA, coating the world in a filter of pink and orange as the sun began to wake up with its people of Japan. The wind swayed the leaves of the trees, causing a small flock of birds to rise up into flight. The world still spun around you in its elegant symphony of everyday life, and it would've calmed you if you had bothered to look up.

You stayed looking at the ground.

The day went by as normal as possible, a reminder of the continued cycle that constantly swallowed you without decision. General classes, lunch, more general classes, hero training, home. It was all the same, with only a few diminutive details that made that day slightly different from the others, just as they always do.

Except, to your annoyance you got hit with a craving right at the end of the day. It wasn't uncommon as the cravings had a habit of hitting you at random times, and if anything you considered yourself lucky since it happened to be the end of the day. Nothing a quick break out at the back of the school couldn't fix.

The back of the school was mainly empty everytime you saw it, and it was a sort of unspoken unwind-place for people to relax when they struggled being under the constant pressure of the expectations of perfection that came with being a part of UA. It was also the only spot without cameras as well, and there was only a miniscule risk of someone walking in on you. The only people that went to the back were tired teachers or students, or Lunch Rush every now and then who empties the waste contents of his equipment into the large ground drain that sits by the only door back inside.

The ground was covered in smudges and bits of debris, most uncommon to see from the elite UA high, but in a way it added to the charm since all other areas of the school were constantly squeaky clean. The bell had rung, and your father wasn't leaving until he finished his grading and daily training with Shinso, so you had a good amount of time to get what you needed done (you hated what you had become).

Opening a hidden side pocket from your school bag and bringing out the box, you promised to yourself you'd make it quick. You lit a stick. A deep inhale. A heavy, hatred-filled exhale. You watched with weary eyes as the cloud of smoke fluttered around in the wind, growing lighter and diminishing completely from the edges in. It was peaceful in a way, seeing something so terrible eventually disappear before your very eyes like you hoped. If only you could will it away from your head.

Taking another breath in, your little moment of calm was broken away from you as the back door creaked open, causing you to sputter and cough in surprise as your heart practically ripped itself from your chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Didn't mean to catch you off guard, Pocket Rocket!" A familiar voice reassured, the familiarity failing to do anything other than cause more panic and self-loathing.

You looked up to see none other than Present Mic turning around from where he had his back turned, his work bag in one hand and the other trying not to let the back door slam.

"Just trying to escape a little early, y'know?-..."

Too late to run away. There was no time to hide your wrong-doings as you saw your father's best friend turn around and watched as his casual smile faltered as it fell upon the white stick that was currently lit and in between your fingers and your eyes that were wide open in surprise.

A million thoughts ran across your head. Disgust with the fact that you let your addiction get this bad. Rage at the world for pushing you so far. Fear of getting a disappointed look and an even more heavy discussion. Too many things to focus on, much too small a window of time.

The air was thick and heavy, the awkwardness you felt in the moment ate away at your very soul bit-by-bit as you waited for the silence to be cut through somehow. To be cut loose no matter the cost was what you so desperately wished for. But he stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

Eventually Mic sighed a bit, and even though it was small it ripped a hole like none-other across your state of mind as the weight of the situation finally bore down on you.

He took off his glasses and quietly cleaned them with a small cloth from his pocket, lengthening the stretch of painful silence further as you waited in terrible anticipation. Placing the glasses on his head rather than back across his eyes, he turned and looked at you with a tired expression, dragging his hand down his face and sighing once again.

"Geez, kid. You're really killing me here..." He muttered, loud enough for you to hear. "How long?..."

Such a simple question, just two words. Two words too much. Two words you never hoped to hear, nor to ever have to answer.

"I, um.. Awhile..." That was all you could get out, voice slightly raspy from the hot smoke that went down your throat not too long ago. The shame was unbearable to endure.

"Man... What'm I gonna do?.." Mic looked exasperated, and truth be told he was. Although he was confused and worried, you were caught off guard with how calm he was. You expected shouting, scolding, immediate action, something. The fact that he wasn't showing much made you stuck on as to worry about if he was hiding his actual anger, or if he actually didn't care that great a deal. You doubted it was the latter.

He shook his head, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. "Your dad know ..?" He asked it with a shallow tone, almost as if it was redundant and the answer was already known. You could only meekly shake your head no in response.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you - 'cause I'm your uncle. I'm not going to ask any questions or anything, I just... want to know if you're doing ok?" His green eyes shone with concern, and you felt another hole being torn in your heart as guilt gnawed at you.

You didn't initially answer, opting to bring your knees up to your chest and stare at the ground as you tried to conjure an appropriate response. You breathed out of your nose as you decided that there was no point in hiding anything anymore. It was already uncovered, why bother with more layers of nonsense?

"No... Sometimes I feel ok. But, then I feel like this other times..." You vaguely gestured to your surroundings, signaling that you weren't feeling mentally well currently, causing your habit.

"Geez, I'm so sorry [name]... " His expression was heavy, but still displayed an air of lightheartedness in an odd kind of comforting way.

"Look, here's what's going to happen ok? First I want you to tell- no wait.." He cut himself off, thinking for a second before beginning again. "No, first things first; hand over the box", Mic reached out a hand in your direction, signaling to you with a quiet air of kind authority.

Your eyes widened in initial surprise, but you supposed it had to have happened at some point when you got caught. It was harder than you liked to admit, grasping the box a little tighter until you clenched your eyes shut and swiftly dropped it in his hand before your mind could further disagree and get you into more trouble.

Mic let out a little breath as he looked at the box, and once again he caught you off guard as he opened it and handed you a single cigarette.

"Here. I'm not sayin' it's ok or anything... But I know from experience that the urges are tough to handle. Just don't want to throw you straight into the pool without a little help, y'know?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pitifully took it from his hands, wishing you could just never have to look at it again. Sensing your disdain, he lightly sighed and patted you on your head. Your attention stayed fixated on the ground, avoiding his gaze.

"You know what you have to do next, right?"

Staying silent, you nodded.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Staring up into the night sky from the apartment balcony, you relished the quiet peacefulness you felt when you gazed up at the sparkling stars ahead.

The little town of Musutafu was always lit up at night. The distant sounds of cars and people's chatter filled your ears. There was a slight breeze that caused you to rub your uncovered arms despite it not being that discomforting. Windows were randomly lit up different shades of yellow or white from the surrounding buildings, and you distracted yourself by looking around to see if you could spot anyone walking around. You saw none, but you heard people all around.

You let out a heavy breath, wondering how you would be able to approach your father on the subject. You knew you had no choice, because if you didn't then Mic would definitely tell Aizawa himself, and that would make your situation worse and your reputation would go down. There was no escape and no more hiding.

At this point you'd accept any punishment that came your way - after all you were stuck at such a deep point in this hole you made that you couldn't even see a way out anymore. You'd get scolded, punished, people would think badly of you. You accepted it because what else could you do?

What hope was there really, when life pushed you to take such measures at your lowest only to punish you for falling into its trap? As much as you wanted to grow cold and bitter, you couldn't find it in yourself. You felt like a small child again, awaiting a cosmic trial that was about to be given to you by the mighty hands of the universe itself. A silly way of thinking, but at this point in your life you felt you needed it.

The breeze stilled, and the weight of the unmoving air settled on you. Looking up at the twinkling stars again, you tried to steel your mind as hard as you could so you could get the hard part over with. To have to come out all by yourself and to out yourself on a bad habit you gained from the lowest moments of your life made you feel like putty being pulled and twisted.

"Bit of a breeze out... Where's your jacket?"

You startled at the feeling of Aizawa's hand that suddenly placed itself on your shoulder without warning. You jumped a bit more than you would've under normal circumstances, much more tense than usual.

Blinking, you registered his question before answering with a feeble shrug of your shoulders, not bothering to look behind you to see where he was.

You heard the chair next to you creak before he spoke up again. "Bring your jacket next time you want to go outside. It's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick."

Sliding your eyes to the side, you glanced over at your father sitting casually in the soft chair that matched the one you were in, his hands in his pockets and his hair tied up. He was looking up at the sky just as you were, only with a more empty glaze as he scanned over it in exhaustion.

The sounds of the town didn't help the slightest in deterring the wave of stuffy silence that laid itself down over the both of you. It seemed you were the only one slightly bothered by it, which made sense since it took quite a bit to bother Aizawa.

You turned away and looked solemnly at the ground, eyes filled with the weight of all the dignity you knew were about to lose. The chilled breeze slightly numbed your fingers, it not being able to do much since the warmth of your hands clasped together kept it away.

"I heard from Ectoplasm that you were struggling with certain aspects of math, that right?"

Sighing, you clenched your hands tighter to the point where your fingernails were digging crevices into the soft skin of your palms. You weren't in the mood for small talk, especially about things you needed help on or were struggling with, so you just nodded stiffly.

He leaned back further into his chair. "I'm going to put you in Vlad's Hero Financing, that after-school program, until I see improvement."

Ah, the place where the bad or stupid kids go, you thought to yourself. There were many after school programs, but the hero financing class was (unsurprisingly) the least popular, so teachers had to send in disobedient or struggling students just to keep its attendance record up. You were sure Vlad got forcefully assigned to teach it since he never seemed to want to be there every time you saw him.

You didn't need this extra weight being thrown on top of you, only serving as an unnecessary reminder of your struggles and failures that turned you into the person you were today. It already gnawed at your skull every morning as soon as you opened your eyes and up until the last second before they closed again at night. To hear further criticism being tossed onto the already overflowing pile was only helping to force the bottle closer to bursting.

Warm tears began to fill your eyes once again as the thoughts and memories began rapidly assaulting and battering your bruised mind that had already endured so much. At that moment you felt nothing but rage. If asked, you couldn't explain what it was that you were angry at. Possibly too many things built up to pinpoint one single reason.

You were trapped and pressured, and what else could you do when you hit rock bottom besides digging deeper and letting loose? You were going to be seen in a worse light, to be met with angry and disappointed glances and glares, so why bother trying to fix a plate that was broken so far to the point where it was just dust?

What was the point of trying to push yourself further if it was all going to be blown away before your eyes? Your mind was a spinning cycle of pain and color, memories of both hatred and loathing helping to boost the deep-seated rage that burned the edges of your thoughts with red fury. You couldn't see clearly, couldn't think clearly, not a single logical thought breaching contact to help restrain the broken reigns that tore after giving their all for much too long.

"Because that's all I am to you, right? A bad kid? One that can't even comprehend something everyone else can?"

You spat with a venom that wasn't intended, the fiery rage burning your logic to ash. Looking over, you saw Aizawa turn your way in his chair, eyes scrunched in either worry or irritation, now on full alert at your angered outburst.

"Now look, I never said anything about your behavior, but since we're on the topic I think you could certainly use an adjustment-"

"Let me guess, it's once again good enough for you? Not happy with me again?" You interrupted, heart racing in your chest as you finally spoke without a forced filter. You were in the moment, and the adrenaline rush felt exhilarating. "Because too bad! I guess I'll never be the perfect student or daughter you want! You raised a delinquent, a failure! "

It was too much. You clawed at your face, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched tight as laborious breaths rushed out of you. The fear of being seen as a bad kid because of your habit ate away at you ever since that first smoke years ago.

Too overwhelmingly angry to think of anything further, you barely registered the gentle hands that urged your grip to loosen. Despite being detached from your surrounding environment, you still felt the soft pads of fingers wiping under your eyes and down your cheeks, and to your surprise you came to the realization that you had started crying at some point.

Trembling, you tried pushing away from your father's touch, still loopy on the rath you felt. Refusing to look up at him and avoiding his reaching hands, you hastily dug around your pocket, only for Aizawa to successfully grip onto your shaking hands and bring them into his comforting hold. He tenderly rubbed his thumbs over the soft skin on your hands, before letting one hand go to try to bring and bring your face to look at him.

"[Name]..." He breathed heavily out of his nose upon your blatant refusal to look at him once more despite his efforts. "Sweetie, what's going on? Talk to me, please."

The hurt tone in his voice caused another sting of guilt to burn its way into your heart. The concern, patience, and worry all made it so much harder to open up what needed to be let out.

You clutched his hand tighter in yours, earning an affectionate squeeze in response from your father before you pulled your hands out of his grip. Confused, Aizawa went to reach for you again, only to pause as he felt an unknown object in his hand that wasn't there before.

Opening his hand, he was met with a single, lightly crinkled cigarette sitting on the center of his palm, and his heart dropped upon the realization. This was a silent confession.

The silence was deafening, pounding into your eardrums with a heavy weight. Your heart was hammering so rapidly it caused concern as to whether or not it'd burst itself right out of your skin. In a way, you would've preferred that to sitting in that insufferable silence any day of the week.

Aizawa could only look at the object in his hand, cold and still. Memories of his own childhood and addiction haunted him everyday, but it had gotten to the point where he learned how to numb it out. So to see you, his one and only daughter, suffering from the same fate he had dealt with as a teen... It frightened him to an abysmal extent.

He felt in that moment that he had failed you as a father. After all, one wouldn't smoke without reason, and that reason normally wasn't something good. He knew you were pushing yourself, but that was something he had grown to expect. To be the daughter of Shota Aizawa meant that some burdens and expectations had to be carried, that was a fact. He never knew it'd get taken that far, though.

Oh, how he cursed himself. He cursed himself as much as he could mentally. Aizawa couldn't stand the thought of you hurting, of you struggling alone and in silence. He was your father, for goodness sake! And wasn't a father's job to care for their children, to keep them safe and happy? To be a shoulder for them to cry on? And yet, here he was, doing none of that, and his dear daughter suffering right in front of his eyes.

He looked up, only to see you staring at the ground, face hidden and hands clamped shut. There was no doubt in his head you were clenching your jaw as well.

Quietly, tenderly, Aizawa pushed your head up to face him, and this time you didn't object. Upon meeting eyes, he saw yours were watery and red, and you could only look at him, feeling pathetic as you let out a sniffle.

You were only able to wait. To wait for the disappointed speech you were given each time you messed up, to receive a harsh glare, or stern punishments.

But you received none. What caught you off guard was the gentle way Aizawa held your face in his hands, and the soft worried look that sat in his eyes. The complete opposite of what you expected.

"[Name]... Oh [Name]... " His voice resonated with remorse, as if he, in a way, felt more at fault for your bad habit than you were. You never wanted him to feel bad, you had only expected yourself to get dragged down because of this problem, and you fully accepted the thought too. So to see your father in so much pain... Stricken with grief and guilt over the habit you got yourself into... The hole already in your heart ripped further, and a heavy block of heartache settled upon you.

Choking back a sob, you were only able to get out a strangled "I'm sorry...". Aizawa shook his head no at your apology, eyes rimmed red now as well. "No, it's not your fault, kid." Gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in reassurance, he continued.

"... How long?" In a way, his question mirrored Mic's, although his voice held more distress, coming out in a slightly strangled manner due to his conflicting thoughts that jumped about his head.

"A few years..." You looked away, not being able to bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. You felt as though you should be completely honest in that moment, because after all lying would only bring about unnecessary complications, right?

You could see Aizawa visibly tense up a bit, obviously surprised upon receiving a solid answer so easily. He let out another sigh, continuing to look at you with a mix of bittersweet fondness and concern. Aizawa was never really an affectionate man, nor was he really one to show much emotion on the daily. But this time was different. His hands never left you, and his eyes gleamed with deep, thoughtful emotions that carried the weight of his thoughts.

"You aren't... You just-" He let out a heavy breath, struggling to get his words out. Normally he'd have an answer for everything. For some reason, at this moment his mind was failing him, possibly due to the fact that he had never expected to be visited by this day.

He opened his hand once again to take another look at the cigarette. He blankly stared at it before it evolved into a glare, angry at how both of your minds were bound to such a small, feeble item. Upset with how easily it took ahold of both of your lives, and how it preyed on the both of your vulnerable moments.

"I'm sorry... I don't want to be a bad kid... A delinquent..." Your shaky voice broke the silver of silence as you struggled to contain all the years of built up guilt and self loathing that were ready to burst from your mind, threatening to snap the reigns and break free.

Aizawa let out a soft sigh, his expression delving further from a look of anger into a more somber one.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, kid-"

His casualness and calm tone caught you by surprise, especially after you had steeled your mind in preparation for a lengthy scolding and disappointment. It seemed that wherever you went nobody gave it much thought, and although it was supposed to be relieving it gave off the opposite effect: as though no one cared.

"B-but I... I smoked! I'm no good, a delinquent, right? I-I..." Your thoughts began swallowing you, mocking you in its thick putty-like memories. The days when it was too much and you'd cry after. The anxiety that always came with the fear of getting caught. The forever fading hope that this would be over.

You weren't thinking properly, too many things you had imagined not coming true upon discovery. Your world was turned upside down, and it was a mess in your head.

You just wanted this to be over. You couldn't forgive yourself as easily as those around you had.

The flying thoughts and panicked irrationality of your mind was suddenly stalled as Aizawa abruptly placed a firm, solid hand on your shoulder - most likely to snap you out of it.

Looking up you were met with stern yet caring eyes, a swirling mixture of knowledge and pain behind the deep brown color they wore.

"I can tell you regret what you did, that's why I'm telling you to not be so hard on yourself. It'll only break your self-image if you expect perfection. Look..."

He signaled for you to sit, slowly pushing you back down into the chair you once were in before dragging his chair over so it was sitting directly in front of yours. His expression became serious, his features knotting into one of deep focus and thought. Hunching over and leaning his chin against his hands you suddenly realized just how close he was. Remembering him only acting like this once or twice, it was noticed that he only became like this for serious, close moments.

The first time he had sat you down such as this was after the USJ attack. He had held you in his arms after the bandages were removed, silent and... Different.

"We all make mistakes... " Aizawa spoke slowly, suddenly seemingly aware of life around him as you noticed his glazed look was no longer there.

"... We all tend to fall down at some point in our lives... But what matters is that we get back up. Even if you know you'll fall down again." He opened his hand and dropped the cigarette plainly on the small table that sat to the side of you both.

"What matters is that you learn from where you failed. That's why we mess up, to learn. And just because you've fallen certainly doesn't make you a delinquent."

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "You've made a mistake, you regret it, and you've learned your lesson. That's doesn't make you a bad kid, that makes you human."

You started tearing up, the weight of his words finally managing to sink in. Human. You were only human after all... Weren't you?

"Besides... It's not like you've committed some deadly crime. I was standing in your spot myself when I was your age, only..." He looked away and towards the stars littering the sky. "I didn't have anyone to go to. And look where that's got me" Letting out a humorless dry chuckle, he took a deep breath before letting some silence fall in between the two of you.

"I... I want this to end. I want it to all be over..." Voice meek and raw from all the crying, you didn't even know if you were speaking to Aizawa directly or if you were just letting thoughts fall out of your mind without restraint.

"Is that really what you want to do?" Years of teaching had given Aizawa a large handful of experiences, allowing him to meet students of all types who each suffered from something of their own. Of course he had known many who had fallen for this addiction, smoking without care. There were only a few, however, that actually wanted to drop it. "I'd be more than happy to guide you through it... I know it's redundant seeing as I'm still hooked myself, but I know I'm not ready yet..."

He looked up at you, surprised to see you looking right at him instead of the ground. "I've helped more than a few folks quit their habits, so I know a few things... If you want my help that is-"

Accidentally cutting Aizawa off by throwing yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug of affection and regrown hope. He only chuckled, not the slightest upset, before hugging you back and patting you on the back a few times.

He had on the first soft smile of the night. "You sure you can handle it?" His voice was filled with concern, worried for how you'd handle the dark claws of addiction gnawing at you. He knew it was tough, because just as he said he himself had been in your very spot years before. He failed, but at least he knew he was content with where he stood.

"It's a difficult thing to give up, but if you really have your heart set on it, then I believe you. I'll help you through it as long as you're willing. And if you ever feel like giving up..." He paused for a second to get up and head back inside, helping to hoist you up as well.

After the back door to the balcony was open, he turned and smiled with a lighthearted wink.

"... Just remember why you wanted to quit in the first place."

A/N:

Again, I'm so sorry about the disappearance! I do hope this reaches out to the person that requested it... =͟͟͞͞(๑º ﾛ º๑)！！

Notes:

• Tags are okay with me! Just ask if you'd like to be tagged for something specific (like a specific genre, character, etc. Especially if you want to be tagged for either my art or my writing!). Once you do then I'll do my best to tag you appropriately! ✌️(˶｀‪‎‎ࠔ´˵)🙏( •∀< )👍

° Requests are open! Request rules are in my pinned post (I'm not that strict)! You can request and I'll do my best to write it, I just might take some time to do so. I promise I haven't deleted or forgotten anyone! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

♡That's all I have to say, other than that I hope everyone here has a lovely day/night! ( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )

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mel-155-a · 17 days ago

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I fucking hate being trans and also transitioning was the correct decision and I have no idea how to square those two things.

Hormones took way too long to do way too little, almost twelve years down the line I still get constantly misgendered, my tits are...fine. I guess. Average, which is honestly more than I expected so.....woo.

Vocal training makes me suicidal and a significant majority of the people offering it are actually offering extremely overpriced singing lessons when they aren't even qualified in anyway to do that beyond "being good at singing". I'm still stuck in a shitty cycle of trying it and failing hard every couple of years, because my voice makes me cry when I fail to disassociate properly from it in my day to day life and actually hear it.

It took me ten years to get the first stage of a colovaginalplasty in July, and it's been three months of pain, frustration, anxiety, and fear as my reward for the previous ten years of endless humiliation and stress that was constantly getting fucked with by surgeon's offices and insurance companies. I have never been particularly horny, but even for me, three months of any kind of masturbation or sex being complicated and difficult to get anything out of is a whole fucking lot to deal with.

I am getting the second stage in December, and the wait is hellish and the healing process is going to be worse, another extended painful, frustrating, anxiety and fear inducing healing period that will likely last at least a year, maybe longer. And it may or may not be over at that point, I might need revisions which will require more healing and frustration and pain.

I could try to get some kind of FFS so I could look in the mirror without cringing, but god, MORE surgery? Having to go through another years long process to try and force an insurance company to cover it, only to get the chance to be miserable for a year or more? Yeah, sounds great. Just what I wanted.

Make-up is a no go because of the face stuff, clothes generally don't fit me because I am a freakishly large 6'3" 230 something pound giant, and even when I do find something, a new skirt might feel good for an afternoon if I am really lucky. Getting misgendered in it regularly lasts forever.

And the trans community is just FUCKED. I know I am a traumatized, depressed, downer pretty regularly, and that is after ten years of therapy and trying really hard to get better. There are quite a lot of trans people who have not had the chance to do that ten years of work on themselves and oof. It shows. It's not their fault, but god is it draining to constantly be around.

Add in the fact that I am a trans woman who has the gall to not be bright, happy, and conventionally attractive, that I am not the girldick sex bunny AND I am also not the humble non-passing ogress who is none-the-less so proud and happy to be trans, who has pride flag everything and a dozen Blahajs around and just...ugh. I can feel people just waiting for a reason to make the call-out posts and when I eventually come across them where they think I won't see, I just want to never talk to anyone again.

Nothing about being trans is good for me. It is all an exercise in misery both internal and external that I can never escape. But it was also the right choice, not transitioning was worse. What the fuck do I do with that?

It's made even worse because I feel like I am "betraying the cause" or something, hurting all the other vulnerable trans women around me and the non trans femmes I love and have in my life, by being this just constantly screaming pain parade. That there should be a finish line to all this and I should have reached it by now, and been able to come back and happily report to everyone else that their time wandering in the desert will end as well.

I am just stuck. I don't have the resources or ability to disappear into the background and leave being trans behind except as a historical footnote, and it's all so normalized that any joy or novelty is long, long gone, leaving just the pain. I am not sure the joy and novelty were EVER there for me personally. If they were, the memories are so distant and faded as to be meaningless.

So...what the fuck do I do? There isn't a Transition 2 to get me out of the rut. This is just my life. And it fucking sucks.

I feel really apprehensive about posting this, I feel like people will be weird about it. But I am pretty sure that I can't be the only person who feels like this. Who feels stuck, left behind, and unwelcome because they are miserable with the thing that they are constantly told should have saved them. So, if that sounds like you, you aren't alone. I don't have any answers either, but we can have a little pity party together I guess. Wooooo.

#trans shit #trauma #trauma dumping #trans #trans women #transgender #trans femme #only bad choices #a novel

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metal-mouse · 2 years ago

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Not the One to Worship, Not the One to Blame

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x gn!Slytherin MC (no y/n used)

themes: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: swearing, trauma, panic attacks, depression, self-isolating

summary: 1.4k word vomit. The battle against Ranrok is over. You are in your sixth year, and now have to deal with the aftermath that is emotion and nightmarish memories. Despite having kept Sebastian Sallow's secret, you have no interest in his friendship. However, he certainly makes a good scapegoat for all of your pain.

note: This is the first piece of writing I have posted publicly in over 10 years. It is going to be rough, as I am very out of practice. I never expected to write anything to post ever again, but I've had such a massive streak of inspiration I figured I'd put myself out there. Be gentle with me because I'm a big baby but be honest - I'm getting better at receiving feedback. I also don’t edit anything ever, so there’s probably plenty of bad grammar/confusing sentence structure/spelling errors.

You stood alone at the top of the astronomy tower alone, hugging yourself tightly against the chilled air as you watched the sun set. The silence was welcome compared to the chaos of the Great Hall over supper. With hundreds of students meeting together at the same time, the sound of countless conversations overwhelmed you far too easily. You had eaten quickly and excused yourself from the company of Ominis, ignoring the concerned look on his face. You knew he worried, but he also knew enough to respect when you needed your space. It was one of your favourite things about him.

The world around you was washed in a gentle golden glow that you desperately wanted to enjoy. The colours of the sky were beautiful, but no emotions stirred inside of you. You remained numb and empty. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d smiled. You wished you could feel something other than this awful cycle of misery, anger, fear, and hollowness. You wished that people would leave the past in the past. Every time a classmate brought up Ranrok’s defeat at your hands you felt like you were going to be sick. Your chest would tighten, and a clammy feeling would cling to the back of your neck as the rest of your body felt smothered by flames and smoke. You had been furious with Professor Black for being the one to share your involvement in the battle and causing this endless stream of praise and questions. All you wanted was to forget.

Even worse than thinking about Ranrok was seeing Sebastian in the halls, in your classes, in your common room. You may have spared him from expulsion and imprisonment, but you still hadn’t found it in yourself to forgive him. Perhaps the blame you placed on him was unfair, perhaps he was an easy scapegoat for your pain. He had, afterall, caused a great amount of that pain. Yet, you weren’t any better than he was. Every night you dreamed of flashes of green and how the light left Victor Rookwood’s blue eyes… Dozens of men and countless goblins lay dead at your hand, and people actually celebrated you for this. In the beginning, you had been intrigued by the power you held. You had been eager to learn it and grow it. You had liked having a unique power that put you above others. Now, you wanted nothing more than to turn back time. You wished you’d never found out about this magic. You wished that none of this had ever happened.

You were deep enough in your spiraling thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your unwelcome company until a warm cloak was placed over your shoulders. You flinched, immediately in attack mode as you looked at your intruder. Sebastian Sallow didn’t look at you. Instead, he put his hands on the railing and leaned out to see the world below.

“I’ll go away if you want me to.” He said, breaking the tense silence. You watched him apprehensively, without saying a word. Sebastian took that as permission to remain in your presence.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“I may not be your favourite person right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. You’re not alright.” Sebastian looked over at you. You scowled at the way he jumped straight to the point. The empty feeling inside of you was slowly replaced with anger. Not alright? What fucking gave it away? Why the hell was Sebastian the first person to bring it up besides Ominis - who had been there when you started to truly fall apart?

“I’m fine.” You said.

“I haven’t seen you smile since the year started - it’s now February. Not at Ominis. Not when you’re brushing Puffskeins with Poppy. You don’t even smile when Weasley makes his stupid jokes.” Sebastian stood and took a step towards you. It felt like his eyes were burning into your face. All you wanted was for him to look at anything but you. How dare he talk to you about this. Talk to you about your happiness - which he fucking stole from you. Why was he even paying attention in the first place? You adjusted his cloak around you, hating how warm it was and how it smelled like Sebastian.

“If I haven’t smiled, it’s your fault.” A low blow. Sebastian’s nostrils flared and hurt filled his eyes, but he tilted his head as if to encourage you to carry on. You didn’t.

“The last time I checked, you were the one acting so miserable. It’s you who doesn’t bother to even try anymore.”

“I don’t have to try anymore. I’m a hero, Sebastian, everyone will love me all the same. Who cares if I’m miserable?” you spat out, “Can’t you see it? I don’t get to have emotions! Only people have feelings. I’m merely a tool to be used - a weapon if you will - whenever someone needs to use me. It makes it so much easier for everyone to forget what happens under the surface of battle. To forget the atrocities I’ve committed. The horrors I’ve seen. You wouldn’t understand it.” Sebastian’s eyes were wide as he stared at you.

“Is that truly what you think? That I don’t understand? You’re not the only one who went through hell last year. I was right there the entire time. I helped you fight trolls, goblins, spiders, poachers, must I go on?

I saw the look on your face when you came back from killing Victor Rookwood, and I knew before anyone else did what had happened. Want to know how? Because I know how it feels to fucking take someone’s life.” Sebastian bellowed, making you take a step backwards. You glanced towards the stairwell, hoping nobody was nearby to eavesdrop.

He had been there. Sebastian had known from the beginning what you were going through, and he had helped - even if it put his life in danger. His true motives may have ultimately lain elsewhere, but you knew he didn’t want to see any more people harmed at Ranrok’s hands. Guilt pushed its way through your unjustified anger. He was certainly making it difficult to blame him for more than what he deserved.

“Just leave me alone, Sebastian.” You whispered. He shook his head, his lips pressed in a firm line. His brown eyes were unusually glassy, almost as if he was trying to hold back tears.

“Whether you like it or not, I understand.” He was still shaking his head, stray tears indeed spilling from his eyes. Sebastian’s lips fell into a frown and quivered a little. It was an ugly face, he was not a pretty crier. Something in this insignificant flaw of his made you pause. Seeing him feel so strongly about how you felt… To show these emotions to you, this clearly meant a lot to him. You meant a lot to him. You approached him carefully, reaching up tentatively and wiped away an errant tear.

“I know, Sebastian. I… I don’t blame you for this. None of it.” You looked down at your feet, your hand still on his cheek.

“And I think you’re far more than a weapon. You don’t have to be the hero with me, you can be just you. I just want to see you smile.” Sebastian very carefully took your hand in his. You looked back up to his face, and you knew he meant it.

“Can we try again?” You asked. He exhaled deeply, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind.

“I think something could be arranged.” Ominis Gaunt’s voice made both of you jump. He stood at the top of the stairs, fidgeting with his wand. Sebastian’s hand squeezed yours tightly. Ominis walked towards where you stood, his cheeks flushed and an uncertain look on his face. Ominis held out his hand for Sebastian, who dropped yours instantly and grasped it. They shook hands firmly, and then Sebastian pulled Ominis in for a hug.

“Boundaries! Sebastian! I will be placing firm boundaries!” Ominis protested, but his arms wrapped around his friend all the same. You let out a weak laugh that was more of a huff full of emotion. You didn’t know fully what this meant, or how anything would play out, but you knew that this would be easier with Sebastian and Ominis on your team. On each other’s team. Life was either going to get better from here, or worse, but you supposed it could be bearable if you lived it with people you cared about. You felt awful for targeting Sebastian like that. He hadn’t deserved all your hatred. Some anger and resentment, sure, but not all of it. As Ominis complained about the cold and coaxed you both back inside, you silently resolved to make it up to Sebastian. You could support him, just as he supported you.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow angst #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy one shot #ominis is mentioned too btw #posting this now so i dont panic and delete everything #this is my first public post since 2013 #isnt that crazy?#i'm not letting myself say bad things about this #I know it's wobbly and rough around the edges - i'm out of practice - its fine #not edited btw #nobody even look at me for at least an hour or I'm going to combust into anxiety thank u #reni writes

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harri-etvane · 3 months ago

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Title: morning coffee Pairing: idk? Maks/Vova/Lena if you squint Summary: Volodymyr, Olena and Maksym share a morning coffee in the sunshine Word count: 1k-ish

Yawning, Volodymyr rolls over, one hand searching for a familiar, warm presence, keen to shuffle back into sleep even as morning makes itself known. Eyes still closed, patting the mattress insistently yields nothing, and as he opens his eyes begrudgingly, he finds the other side of the bed empty and bright morning sunlight streaming in through the windows of their cabin. For a moment, he's content to lie there in the warmth, the quiet - relishing in it.

It still feels strange, intransient; as though if he makes one wrong move everything will vanish. This peace is more beautiful than anything he's ever known and it feels like a fairytale. He exhales slowly.

Idly, his eyelids still heavy, he watches a few dust motes dance in the sunbeams that blanket the room in gold, his thoughts drifting without consequence from one idea to the next - the day full of untold promise. They could swim, cycle, or fish. They could go for a walk, run or ride. They could read or cook or just sit and do absolutely nothing. It is still something of a novelty; there are no five am wakeup calls, no six am meetings. There is no endless barrage of relentlessly horrible news that he must confront, no-one to console or mourn. Just this - a cosy, quiet cabin in the Carpathians where nothing is needed from him, except perhaps to decide what he would prefer for dinner.

He notices a folded piece of paper propped on the nightstand. Unwilling just now to peel himself out of bed, he instead leans over to unfold it and read the contents, rubbing at his eyes, wakefulness slowly descending on him as he shuffles into a sitting position against the headboard.

On the porch with coffee. Come join us x

He considers the words for a little while, stretching luxuriously until he can feel his shoulders crack gently, all the tension gone from him now. He is still getting used to this, to a body that does not ache with exhaustion. In the beginning, it had felt so strange, to be without the ever present tension that thrummed through each muscle, the absence startling. He had forgotten what it felt like; to not hurt, to just be at rest, to be still.

Eventually, coffee is enough of a lure in and of itself, alongside company, to have him finally tip himself out of bed, shoving on a too-large sweatshirt and some socks as he shuffles across the sun-warmed floorboards. The cabin is quiet, almost as though the building too is at rest, waking up at the same time as he. The sound of the birds filters through the windows, bright and joyous. He pads through the corridors, quiet, as though surely - this can’t really be for him. He wonders if it will ever feel real, if the fact that this, for now at least - is his life. There are no more hours to be spent in the harshly lit situation room, or the dark misery of a bunker. No longer hurtling from one emergency to the next, from speech to press conference to interview, his whole self filled with adrenaline and anger at the pain of his people.

Just this place, here - in the golden sunlight.

He pushes open the door, met with all the warmth of the smiles of both Olena and Maksym as they turn toward him.

“Morning sleepyhead-” Olena steps towards Vova, pulling him towards her and pressing a kiss to his cheek, taking a second to relish the warm softness of him, here, just beside her. He will not be pulled away by work, by war and all its chaos this time. They can have this - these shining moments.

“Took you long enough-”

Their joking is affectionate, Maksym with one arm open, beckoning him forward. Automatically, Vova pads forward and leans against his side as they look out over the mountains from the porch at the front of their cabin. Another quiet exhale leaves him, his eyes closing for a moment. Unseen, Maksym and Olena share a glance at one another, the bare warmth evident in both their faces for Vova could rival the sun. For all it feels as though a weight has left him, it has left the both of them too. They are no longer quite so terrified for him - no longer filled with the inescapable dread that a frontline trip to Kursk or Donetsk might be his last, no longer gripped by the relentless anxiety that one day something might happen to him and he would go from them.

He is here, with them.

“The note mentioned coffee-” he looks at them both, all soulful eyes - not quite pouting but close to it. It’s easy to see how persuasive he must have been in meetings with their partners; all that charisma, that sweetness; seemingly for them alone. This time however, Olena rolls her eyes and Maksym elbows him in the ribs gently, both of them almost entirely immune now to his tactics.

“Get it yourself- I’m not running around after you anymore-”

“What happened to I swear to serve?”

“The Ukrainian nation, Vova. Not you specifically-”

“You mean I’m not important to you?”

“You are. Terribly important. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your own coffee-”

Vova grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘traitor’ at Maks before he looks hopefully at Olena, who blinks at him innocently.

“What? I didn’t take any oaths to the Ukrainian nation so don’t start that-”

“You did swear to love and to cherish, forever might I add… so surely that counts, no?..”

She can’t keep a straight face for much longer and she laughs sweetly, handing over a mug of coffee. It’s piping hot, steam still rising from the dark brown liquid and he beams at her in thanks.

The three of them stand in the quiet, the only noise about them is the call of the birds in the trees, the endlessly blue sky stretching out above them without pause.

#harriet writes #debated making it longer changed my mind bc its just plotless nonsense but hopefully its nice?#in place of one of the fluff series chapters ig

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sunwarmed-ash · 11 months ago

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🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

My love language is misery

Chapter 1: Hurt

Fandom: Detroit Become Human Ships: one sided hankvin/established hankcon->hankconvin Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst,Hurt Gavin Reed, Supportive Hank Anderson, Supportive Connor, self harm, pining gavin, jealous gavin read, two part hurt/comfort fic, pre relationship TWs: Post SA aftermath, reference implied SA Chapter preview:

Gavin's hands are shaking so hard he drops his lighter three times onto the half frozen surface of the smokers patio. He phcking hates today. Hates Anderson. Hates his plastic replacement. Hates that he will never be good enough for anybody again… Hates that he’s so ruined. He’s three pulls into his second cigarette when his fist comes flying in contact with one of the four bricked pillars. Pain shoots through his split knuckles and radiates up his dominant arm into his shoulder. It still doesn't hurt as much as being alone does. Having nothing and no one. He’s old (37, a grandpa in queer math), he's damaged, (sexually traumatized beyond repair), no one wants him, at least not in the way he wants them (why the hell would they?) All that’s left for him is another 40 years on this endless, repetitive cycle, forever. Something drops on the concrete behind him and it takes Gavin a moment to check back in and realize who and what it was. The What was a cup of coffee, rapidly cooling and soaking into the bottom of his left pant leg. The Who was Connor, Anderson’s new phcking soulmate, who is now just standing there silently dumbstruck, his stupid mouth gaping wide enough to catch flies. His eyes are staring at Gavin’s hand, which now that Gavin looks at it he can see it’s bleeding. Like a lot. “PHCKING WHAT?” he shouts, the overwhelming feeling of being caught sends Gavin’s defenses reeling. Gavin watches as Connor stumbles back at the outburst. Shows fear for the first time in his presence, and it’s because he’s personally responsible. Good. Leave me alone. “I-I…” Connor says, looking at the empty styrofoam cup before bending to pick it up. He doesn't try and look at Gavin’s hand again, but he finds Gavin’s eyes and somehow that's worse. "Detective…” “The phck are you even doing out here Connor?” Because they are not talking about this. About him. “I...I was bringing you a coffee.” Gavin scoffs. Yeah fucking right. “Why?” “...A peace offering.” A peace offering?! What did Connor fall and hit his head? “For what? Am I not leaving you alone enough?" The android blushes and Gavin can’t even begin to try and decipher what that means. “Yes... Well, I suppose that's the root of the problem. I don't… want you to ignore me.” “So you’d rather I go back to messing with you?” “No. I just… a fresh start? Maybe? For the both of us? We are coworkers now and I think it-” “No thanks,” Gavin interrupts, “Not really looking to make any new friends.” Connor’s brow furrow and he looks genuinely upset by the rejection. Gavin doesn't know what the phck he expects. What the hell would they even have in common? Except for a hard-on for Hank. “Very well. Can I get you something for your hand Detective? It's still bleeding.” Gavin’s disbelieving scoff is mean. “Get the phck out of here Connor.”

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kortacqueen · 1 year ago

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Drowning

Konig jumped off the ledge of a cliff and plunged into the water below. He surfaced but was quickly dragged under by the current.

He could feel hands holding his arms, the struggle to get control, get away, away from there, from them. Even if he could break the grip, the lock to the bathroom stall would delay him too long. A fist in his long hair and the other under his chin forcing his head to look directly above him at the bully looming over him. The light above making his face dark, a demonic looming figure that feeds on misery and pain. His misery and pain. Smiling, always smiling at his misery, showing his teeth and eyes squinted. The eyes watching him with sick delight almost scared him more than that smile. They absorbed him into a dark endless abyss. A void he could never escape.

The figure above him was speaking, to his friends or to him, König doesn’t know. Doesn’t remember, he never could and never wanted to.

He does know that one moment he was looking up and the next his head was underwater.

Konig wasn’t always a king. He started as a boy. A nervous, scared, and scarred boy. Scared of the people at school and the rent at the end of the month that he never knew if his mother could pay. Scared of the loneliness of the next day spent by himself, hiding in corners and empty bathrooms.

His mother always said a good child like him will go far in life, but he didnt believe her then and he still doesn’t now.

All he knows is that the world is cruel and the people in it, far crueler.

He remembers how the end never seemed to come that day, the reprieve never appearing. They lifted his head out of the toilet water and held him there, yelling at him for something. His head hanging low, weighed down by his long soaking wet hair in front of his face. His scalp hurting from where they yanked his head, seeming to enjoy watching him fall onto himself without their grip holding him up.

He almost thought they were finished after two plunges. He had never been more wrong.

Out and in, out and in, over and over again. The cycle never ending, never changing. Plunge, wait, lift, yell, hit, grab, plunge, wait, lift, yell, hit, grab, plunge, wait, wait, wait. Wait… wait…..

König pulls himself out of the water he had jumped in. Finally on dry land, he collapsed and coughed. The water expelling from his lungs as he caught his breath.

After a moment, he sighed and lifted himself back to his feet. Resigned to finding his way back to his team in soaking wet clothes. He lifted the balaclava under his hood over his nose, the fabric no longer suffocating him.

The walk left him to his thoughts, a curse right now.

König remembers waking on the floor of the bathroom, cold and alone. His wet hair over his face and the floor, soaking his hoodie. Remembers thinking how miserable and lonely he was, laying on the floor of a gross bathroom with no one to comfort or hold him in his times of need. He ended up sobbing on the floor, unmoving, for an unknown amount of time. He left school early that day, with his hair soaking and freezing in the cold fall weather.

Oh, how miserable life can be. König no longer has delusions of it getting any better. So, here he will stay, receiving misfortune after misfortune and trudging through them. Waiting for the reprieve that he feels will never come. A breathe of air he will never get.

#könig #cod #konig mw2 #konig #konig call of duty #König angst #heavy angst #it doesn’t get better for him

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sunflowerabyss · 10 months ago

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The Phoenix Rises: Chapter 6

Pairing: Older!Remus Lupin x Professor!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot Summary: Starting your third year at Hogwarts as the Charms professor proves to be difficult without having Remus by your side as you face new and irritating challenges at work, as well as joining a secret society.

A/N: I know I promised this to be out like two days ago, however, I had a minor writer's block episode and had no idea where I wanted this to go. Hopefully, you can forgive me and enjoy this chapter!

______________________________________

The days that followed your abrupt departure from Remus were consumed by a relentless wave of work. The initial rush of anger and hurt had given way to a persistent sense of emptiness. The more you buried yourself in tasks, the more you began to question whether you had overreacted. Remus's letters, filled with apologies and pleas to talk, piled up on your desk, but every attempt to respond ended with you staring at a blank parchment, unsure of what to say.

Weeks passed in a monotonous blur of routine. The exhaustion from the constant workload, combined with the loneliness that now seemed to permeate every aspect of your life, weighed heavily on your shoulders. Remus's absence left a void that not even the distraction of work could fill.

The situation at Hogwarts took a turn for the worse. Dolores Umbridge, now deemed the Hogwarts High Inquisitor by Fudge, asserted her control over the school with an iron grip. The position seemed absurd and unnecessary in your opinion, but Dolores's influence continued to grow. She initiated interviews with everyone, and you couldn't shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time until she targeted you.

The stress at work escalated, the looming threat of dismissal hanging over you like a dark cloud. The once vibrant and welcoming Hogwarts now felt like a place of constant tension and uncertainty. Each passing day intensified your yearning for the familiar warmth of Remus's presence, but pride and lingering hurt kept you from reaching out.

As the weeks turned into a seemingly endless cycle of misery, you couldn't help but reflect on the choices that led you to this point. The ache in your heart grew, and the realization that you might lose not only Remus but also your place at Hogwarts added an extra layer of despair to your already troubled mind. In the solitude of your office, you found yourself longing for resolution, a way to mend the fractured pieces of your life.

You sat at your meticulously organized desk, its polished surface marred by scattered parchment and ink stains, a visual representation of the internal chaos that consumed you. The quill trembled in your hand as you attempted to compose a response to Remus's letters. Each tear-stained word blurred the ink on the parchment, a tangible testament to the emotional turmoil that gripped your very being.

A sudden knock echoed through the room, interrupting the solitude that had become both your refuge and your prison. Startled, you hastily wiped away the evidence of your vulnerability and cleared your throat before granting permission for the unseen visitor to enter. The heavy door swung open, revealing the unexpected presence of Dumbledore.

His entrance was marked not by surprise but by an understanding that transcended words. Dumbledore's gentle eyes held no judgment, only a deep awareness of the toll recent events had exacted upon you. Despite the dread that filled the room, you found a sense of comfort in welcoming him.

Dumbledore settled into the chair before your desk, his wise eyes meeting yours with a compassion that seemed to reach beyond the surface. "I understand," he spoke softly, acknowledging the emotional maelstrom that raged within you. "Remus has written to me."

The conversation unfolded like a delicate dance between shared confessions and unspoken pain. The anger resurfaced, yet beneath its fiery surface, a seed of understanding began to germinate. You bared your soul to Dumbledore, confessing the wish that you could have done more, grappling with the foolishness of your obliviousness to the secrets that had burdened Remus. The narrative unfolded, revealing the push and pull, the gradual distancing that had fractured your once-close connection.

Dumbledore listened with a patient empathy that transcended mere acknowledgment. "I know it's hard," he admitted, his demeanor compassionate and understanding. Leaning forward, he fixed his piercing blue eyes upon your face. "But I need you to join the Order. I need strong, loyal people—individuals I can trust. They are becoming far and few between, and your strength, your dedication, would be invaluable in these trying times."

Dumbledore's gaze remained steady, a beacon of wisdom in the storm of your emotions. "I know this revelation is overwhelming, my dear. The burdens we carry often shape us in unexpected ways," he spoke, his voice a soothing balm to the raw wounds of your soul. "But your strength is undeniable, and your willingness to face this truth head-on speaks volumes about the kind of person you are."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding even as the weight of the decision ahead settled upon you. "It's just… everything happened so fast, and now I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads," you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of uncertainty.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "Life has a way of presenting us with choices when we least expect it. The Order needs individuals who can navigate these challenges with courage and resilience," he said, his eyes searching yours for a sign of resolve.

Taking a deep breath, you found the strength to voice the question that lingered in your mind. "Why me, Headmaster? Why now?"

Dumbledore's response carried a weight of responsibility. "The times we live in demand courage from us all. You possess qualities that are crucial in the face of adversity. Remus believes in your strength, and so do I. The Order is not just a collective of powerful wizards; it's a fellowship bound by courage, loyalty, and the unwavering commitment to stand against darkness."

As you absorbed his words, a newfound determination began to stir within you. "I won't let you down," you declared, your voice steadier than before. "I'll join the Order and do whatever it takes to make a difference."

With a purposeful expression, Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a small note. "Here," he said, handing it to you. "This will guide you to our headquarters. 12 Grimmauld Place in London. Burn it as soon as possible, and make sure to be there on Friday evening, right after your last class."

You took the note, your heart pounding with a newfound sense of purpose. "How should I get there?" you asked, eager to follow through on this commitment.

Dumbledore leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do not use the Floo Network," he emphasized. "Apparate to King's Cross Station. Alastor Moody will be there to collect you."

You absorbed the information, the details sinking in as you mentally prepared for the journey ahead. "Thank you, Professor," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and determination.

Dumbledore gave you a reassuring smile. "You are doing a great service, my dear. Remember, your strength lies not only in your magical abilities but in your unwavering loyalty and courage."

"Thank you, Albus," you say softly, a small smile forming your lips--the first one in a while.

With a final nod, Dumbledore rose from the chair, leaving you with a weight on your shoulders that seemed both heavier and more manageable, knowing that you were stepping onto a path where your strength would be tested, and your loyalty would be unwavering.

_____________________________

Friday arrived sooner than expected, and despite the stressful week, you hadn't written to Remus, wanting to surprise him with your sudden appearance. However, you managed to sneak away to Hogsmeade to gather an ungodly amount of chocolate bars from Honeydukes, along with a new sweater and a Muggle book you spotted at Flourish and Blotts. Deciding to take an overnight bag just in case, you stuffed it with Remus's gifts, some clothes, and other necessities. With your wand in hand, you Apparated to King's Cross.

Navigating through the bustling crowd, you quickly spotted Alastor's distinctive figure. His large frame and magical eye made him stand out, and you saw wary glances from passing Muggles. Waving at him, he responded with a small grunt before motioning for you to follow him to a more secluded spot.

As you and Alastor walked through the crowded King's Cross, he spoke with a gruff tone, his magical eye scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. "You're late," he grunted without looking at you.

"Sorry, Alastor," you replied, a touch of nervousness in your voice. "I had to make sure I wasn't followed."

He merely nodded, his focus unwavering. "Smart move. Always watch your back."

You caught sight of Alastor's magical eye twitching around, observing the people around you. "So, how's Remus really doing?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Mopin'," he said simply.

"Moping?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yeah, moping. Brooding over something or other," Alastor responded, his magical eye flickering as it surveyed the surroundings. "Annoying, if you ask me."

A mix of concern and curiosity stirred within you. "Why do you think he's been like that?" you questioned, trying to gauge if Alastor had any insights into Remus's mysterious behavior.

Alastor huffed, his breath forming a visible cloud in the cool air. "Missing you, I reckon. Can't seem to shake off whatever's bothering him."

Your eyes widened slightly at the revelation. Remus missing you was both heartwarming and perplexing. "Does he know I'm coming?" you asked, deciding to keep the surprise under wraps a little longer.

Alastor shook his head, his grizzled features expressing a mix of frustration and hope. "No, and it's high time someone pulled him out of this funk. Maybe your surprise visit will do the trick. He could use a bit of cheering up."

You smiled at the thought, appreciating the grizzled Auror's straightforwardness. "Well, I hope so. It's been a challenging week."

"Challenging is an understatement in our line of work," he grumbled. "But you seem tougher than most."

As Alastor checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was, he summoned two brooms. You eyed the broom with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "It's been a while since I've flown," you admitted.

"Nothing like a bit of airborne freedom. Follow my lead, and you'll be just fine," Alastor assured you.

Once in the air, you found your confidence returning, and the wind rushing past felt invigorating. "This is incredible!" you exclaimed, and even Alastor managed a gruff chuckle.

You followed him to a massive building after your feet reached the ground. Initially, you noticed the absence of number 12, but as the building expanded, it came into view. Alastor walked in, and you quickly followed behind him.

The interior of 12 Grimmauld Place was a mix of haunting memories and an undeniable air of secrecy. The faded elegance of the Black family home held a certain dark allure. Alastor led you through the gloomy corridors, eventually arriving at a room where you could sense a flicker of warmth and familiarity.

As you walked, you couldn't help but ask, "How did you end up involved with the Order again, Moody?"

He glanced at you with a glint of nostalgia in his magical eye. "Old habits die hard, especially when there's a fight worth fighting. Dumbledore knows I can't resist a good battle."

Sirius Black heard the front door of him home open. Curious, he stood from his chair and walked out to the hallway, seeing who else had arrived. Spotting you, his face broke into a boyish grin.

Sirius's tall frame filled the doorway, and as Alastor pushed himself inside the room, you found yourself standing in the hallway, taking in the scene. The door opened into a dimly lit space where a group of people sat around a table, engaged in hushed conversations. Recognizing the familiar faces, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement.

Sirius nodded at Alastor, acknowledging the arrival, before opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. Without hesitation, you rushed into Sirius's embrace, the warmth of his familiar presence enveloping you. "I missed you," he confessed, holding you a little tighter.

"I missed you too," you replied, leaning back to look at his face. You were pleased to see that he was looking healthier than the last time you had seen him.

Sirius, ever the blunt one, leaned back against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "Remus has been a real joy to be around lately," he quipped.

You chuckled at the understatement, teasingly saying, "Moping, short-tempered, and moody? Alastor told me all about it on the way here."

Sirius let out an exasperated groan. "Yes! It's like living with a teenager going through their angst phase."

You couldn't help but laugh at Sirius's dramatic description, the tension from the week slowly dissipating in the presence of your friend's humor. "Well, I brought an overdose of chocolate and a new sweater for him. Maybe that'll lift his spirits."

Sirius grinned, appreciating the effort. "You might just be the remedy he needs. Though, personally, I'm counting on you to bring back some semblance of sanity to this place." As Sirius playfully nudged you towards the room, you couldn't help but feel a surge of nerves at seeing Remus for the first time in a while.

As you stepped into the room, the animated conversations around the table ceased abruptly. All eyes turned towards you, creating a momentary pause as the surprise settled in. Remus, however, was the first to react. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he stood up abruptly, whispering your name with a mixture of shock and joy.

In a swift motion, Remus rushed towards you, closing the distance between you two. His arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, a mixture of relief and happiness evident in the way he held you. "I can't believe you're here," he whispered into your hair, the words carrying a blend of astonishment and sheer delight.

Sensing the need for some privacy to navigate the complexities of the situation, you gently suggested, "Remus, let's step into the hallway for a moment. I'd like to talk."

Remus nodded, his eyes still reflecting a mix of emotions. With an apologetic glance at the others in the room, he led you into the hallway, where the ambient light spilled in from the room behind. The door closed behind you, providing a semblance of seclusion for your conversation.

Once in the hallway, Remus maintained a gentle grip on your arms, his eyes searching yours for an understanding of the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied your unexpected arrival. "I didn't know you were coming," he admitted, a mixture of surprise and concern in his voice.

"I wanted to surprise you," you explained, offering a small smile to reassure him. "But it seems there's a lot we need to talk about."

Remus nodded, releasing a breath he seemed to have been holding. "I've missed you so much, and I should have told you about everything sooner."

You looked at him, a mix of frustration and understanding in your gaze. "Remus, I'm not upset about joining the Order. I wanted to. I'm upset because you didn't trust me enough to tell me. We're supposed to be a team, facing everything together."

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, and I should have trusted you. It's just…everything is getting more dangerous, and I wanted to protect you."

You nodded, realizing the depth of his concern, but determined to bridge the gap that had formed between you. "Remus, we can face this together. But I need you to trust me."

He looked into your eyes, remorse and determination mingling in his gaze. "I promise, from now on, no more secrets. We'll face everything together."

He pulled you close, your lips ghosting his. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. You mirrored the sentiment, reassuring him of your love.

Before you knew it, you both were surging forward, capturing his lips to yours. As the intensity between you grew, the kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been kept at bay for far too long. The world around you faded away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence.

Just as the atmosphere between you two became more heated, a sudden, awkward cough pierced the bubble of intimacy. Startled, you and Remus pulled away from each other, a shared embarrassment coloring your expressions. The source of the interruption was a young woman with bright pink hair.

"Ahem, sorry to break up the party," Tonks grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. "But the meeting's about to start. Dumbledore is waiting, and we wouldn't want to keep him waiting, would we?"

You and Remus exchanged sheepish glances, realizing the necessity of regaining composure. "Right, of course," Remus stammered, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. You couldn't help but chuckle nervously in response.

"Name's Tonks," she said, sticking out a hand to you. You give her your name, returning the gesture, shaking her hand.

As you walked past Tonks to rejoin the others in the meeting room, you caught a glimpse of her looking at Remus with an intensity that went beyond a casual glance. You pushed the thought back as you took Remus's hand in yours, sitting down next to him. You felt a frown settle on your face as Tonks took a seat next to him.

Tonks's lingering gaze on Remus during the meeting had not gone unnoticed. The way she observed him seemed more than just casual interest, and a subtle unease settled within you.

As the meeting continued, Dumbledore provided updates on recent sightings of Death Eaters and their activities. The atmosphere in the room grew tense as he discussed the increasing frequency of dark magic disturbances and the potential signs of Voldemort's resurgence.

Moody began detailing the increased movement of dark forces. "Got reports of suspicious activity near Diagon Alley," he grumbled. "And a couple of Death Eater sightings in Hogsmeade. Nasty business is picking up again."

A murmur of concern rippled through the room as the members of the Order absorbed the grim news. Sirius, leaning against a wall, crossed his arms and scowled. "Can't say I missed this part of the action," he remarked dryly.

Dumbledore, his expression grave, addressed the gathering. "The resurgence of Death Eater activity is not unexpected. Voldemort is regaining strength, and his followers are becoming bolder. We must remain cautious and act swiftly to counter their moves."

Tonks, who had been unusually quiet, interjected, "I've heard rumors about a gathering at Malfoy Manor. Might be worth looking into." Her eyes flickered towards Remus, a subtle tension in the air.

The gravity of the situation settled over the room as everyone absorbed the information. Dumbledore urged the members of the Order to remain vigilant and emphasized the importance of unity in the face of the growing threat.

Throughout the meeting, your attention involuntarily gravitated toward Tonks whenever she spoke. There was an indescribable unease lingering in your gut, a feeling that something about her presence didn't sit right with you. As she discussed various sightings and activities, your mind couldn't shake the suspicion that there might be more to Tonks than met the eye.

While the others engaged in the conversation, your gaze subtly followed Tonks's movements. The way she interacted with Remus, her seemingly deliberate attempts to be close to him, only fueled your discomfort. It was as if an invisible thread connected her to him, and the unease within you grew with each passing moment.

Remus, sensing your distraction, shot you a concerned look. His presence provided a reassuring anchor, but the feeling of suspicion toward Tonks lingered. As the meeting progressed, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that there might be hidden motives behind Tonks's actions.

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #older!remus lupin x y/n #older!remus lupin x you #sirius black #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #order of the phoenix

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