#i hope this all makes sense in the way ive explained? if anything is still unclear let us know!! 🫶🏻💖💖

[aetherraeys]

bloodmoon pt2

(part 1)

remus lupid x vampire!reader ⊹ 11.9k

cw ⟢ swearing, harrassment, men being vile, blood, detailed description of pain, friends to lovers, slowish burn, biting, suggestive at the end

a/n: not proofread x SORRY THIS ACTUALLY TOOK DAYS IVE BEEN TRYING TO MAKE IT LESS THAT 12WC!! i hope you enjoy ,,, slightly obsessed with vampire!reader now.

“Finally realised she’s not the devil incarnate, have you, Moony?”

Its as though Sirius just physically couldn’t stop himself, everyone else had been ignoring it for weeks—the skeptically raised eyebrows changing into almost knowing looks. They’d all been silently watching.

Him and you, you and him.

How essentially overnight, Remus had become one of the people he used to openly scoff at, roll his eyes as if they’d fallen into some sort of trap that was only obvious to him. To his friends shock and relief, their dear old Moony, was not as immune to you as he’d made out to be.

Now, if anything, it seemed that he was more affected than anyone else, walking you from the slytherin common room, to the great hall, and back again—visiting you multiple times a day when you were working in the hospital wing. The complete 180 in the way he reacts to you, a sigh of relief when he sees you enter the room, rather than the erking gut reaction he had before.

And even as discrete as Remus has tried to be, he was unable to escape Lily’s watchful eye—having caught glimpses of a few Bloodsuckers rolling a round in the bottom of his bag.

It literally wasn’t even as secret as this point.

But, apparently unbeknownst to Sirius and Sirius alone, there had been an unspoken agreement: do not acknowledge it. Which explained why, the moment the words left his mouth, the entire table fell into a stunned silence.

A silence Sirius was still exactly one beat behind.

The ghost of a smirk still playing on his lips, Sirius barely had time to register James’ foot swinging under the table before—

“Ow! Bloody—fuck—” He doubled over, forehead colliding with the hard wood of the table.

By the time he pried his eyes open from the sharp sting of pain, everyone was staring at him with identical looks of disbelief, as if he were the idiot in the situation.

Raising his hands in surrender, he huffed, utterly perplexed by the turn of events.

“What?! So we’re all just supposed to act like it’s normal that one minute he hates her and the next he’s so far up her arse he could whisper in her ear?!”

At the very least, Sirius expected someone to back him up. James, maybe, because he was always on about Remus being a hypocrite. Or Marlene , who at least had the good sense to find humor in all of this.

But no.

Instead, James pinched the bridge of his nose like he was battling a migraine, Marlene muttered something that sounded suspiciously like for Merlin’s sake, Black, and Lily was just avoiding eye contact altogether, suddenly very interested in buttering her toast.

And Remus—Remus just sighed. That slow, patient sigh that meant he was this close to losing his temper, but he was doing that thing where he convinced himself he was above it.

“Pads,” he said, voice clipped, “I swear to God—”

“No, no, sorry,” Sirius cut in, straightening up despite the throbbing ache in his shin. “Am I the only one who remembers how you used to look at her like she’d burst into flames if you kept staring? How you’d turn green when she walked in the room?”

Across from him, James let out a sharp, incredulous breath. “Are you actually daft?”

Sirius just ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

He looked to Lily, hoping for a shred of backup, but the traitor was still focused on her toast. He turned to Marlene, but she just gave him a wide-eyed look that screamed drop it, Black.

He turned back to Remus, who was now very pointedly stirring his tea, as though pretending he wasn’t the center of attention would make Sirius forget the absolute insanity happening right in front of him.

“I hated her?” Remus repeated blandly, finally looking up. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

Sirius let out a laugh. Loud, disbelieving, scandalized.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mocked. “What would you call it, then? Casual disdain? Deep-rooted, undiagnosed allergic reaction? Because I distinctly remember you not being able to stand within a three-foot radius of her without looking like you were about to be sick.”

At that, Remus’ jaw ticked. It was barely there, the kind of reaction only someone who knew him well would notice. But Sirius did notice, and so did James, and it was definitely why James suddenly went stiff beside him.

A beat of silence.

Before he could go off—before the tightness in his jaw and the twitch in his fingers could escalate into something actual. Just as the inevitable explosion was about to happen, Sirius bracing himself for the verbal annihilation that was surely coming—there was a sudden shift in the room.

You walked into the Great Hall, oblivious to the absolute war zone you were unknowingly interrupting.

Just barely brushing past him as you made your way to your seat, as always, Pandora on one arm, lolly in your mouth—as normal as ever.

It was nothing. Just a fleeting moment. The soft whoosh of your robes as you passed behind Remus, your fingers lightly skimming the back of his chair in a casual, absentminded way. Barely even a touch.

But it was immediate.

Remus’ shoulders relaxed. His hand, which had been clenched into a tight fist against his thigh, uncurled. The sharpness in his jaw eased, the tension around his mouth smoothing into something effortless.

He didn’t even turn his head. Didn’t watch as you crossed the hall to your usual table, settling in without a second thought.

But Sirius saw it all.

He saw the way Remus exhaled, slow and steady. Saw the way his fingers twitched slightly—like maybe they wanted to follow where you’d been. Saw the way, without even realizing it, Remus tracked your presence out of the corner of his eye before returning to his tea like nothing had happened.

Sirius gawked.

“You have got to be kidding me.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the disbelief in it was palpable.

James cleared his throat, poorly disguising a smirk as he reached for the pumpkin juice.

“Pads,” he said, in a tone that was dangerously close to condescending, “I’d drop it if I were you.”

Sirius snapped his head toward him, scandalized.

“Did you see that?” Voice whispered, eyes gesturing wildly at Remus, who was now painfully composed, stirring his tea with the patience of a saint. “She brushed past him, and suddenly he’s a bloody monk! He was about to rip my head off, and now look at him—he’s practically floating.”

James just shrugged, taking a sip from his goblet. “Yeah, mate,” he whispered still, far too amused. Only mouthing his next words, in hopes to not break the peace—“We know.”

Remus quite literally looked as though he’d reached enlightenment, comfortable in letting himself ignore everything else around him.

He didn’t think it was weird how, as of late, his mind often wondered to you.

It seemed only natural really, you were more affected by him because of his condition, and he was more affected by you. Guessing that this was how everyone felt this whole time, drawn to you all the time—presence undeniably addicting.

Yeah. It made sense to him. A perfectly reasonable explanation.

That’s why he felt absolutely no way about having found himself in the hospital wing, yet again. Clearly once he’d been sucked into your orbit, there was no escaping—completely unavoidable, not that Remus was complaining.

You could smell him from a mile away, not even turning away from your station—

"Hello, Remus," you mused, setting down a tray of fresh bandages. "What is it this time?"

Remus hummed, glancing down at his hands like he needed to double-check. "Not sure yet. Give me a moment, I'll think of something."

Even during the hustle and bustle of the hospital wing, multitasking as he perched on the edge of an empty bed, silently observing your movements.

You were good company.

That was all the reason he needed.

All that mattered was the way the steady hum of your presence started to settled something deep in his bones, the way the corners of your mouth twitched in quiet amusement whenever your eyes caught his—half-exasperated, half-knowing.

Rolling your eyes, but there was no real bite to it. "You do know this isn’t a common room, right?"

Remus exhaled a slow breath, something curling warm and weightless in his chest. "Strange," he said, tilting his head. "Feels like one."

You gave him a look, but he could tell from the slight twitch of your lips that you were trying not to smile. "Unbelievable," you muttered, shaking your head. "Well, since you're so comfortable, you might as well make yourself useful."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You turned away, reaching for the large pile of freshly folded bedding, before handing it to him. “Put these on top of the cabinet in the corner, since you’re clearly in no rush to leave."

He took the pile without hesitation, fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent something sharp and fleeting through him—odd, but not unpleasant. Not anything worth thinking about.

"Mm. Of course." Using his height to his advantage, placing them with ease. As much as he wanted to trail after you as you moved around the ward, he’d already been told—several times—that if he wished to stay, he needed to stay out of the way.

Even if he wanted to help it, he couldn’t. There was a pull to you, a presence that drew in attention in ways both subtle and impossible to ignore.

As much as it was special—it’s not something unique to him, at least. You had that effect on everyone.

Rather unfortunately actually.

Not everyone who was drawn to you, was quite as pleasant as Remus. You had a feeling he would come, saunter in—unbelievable high and mighty, friends trailing behind him.

Remus was still sitting on the empty bed, reading, as you packed up the last few things—only fifteen minutes left before the end of your shift. That’s why he was waiting, having fallen into the habit of walking you back to the common room—supposedly because ‘company wouldn’t hurt’.

The sharp inhale that left your lips had him sitting up straight immediately—alert.

“You okay?” Already walking over to where you stood, face twisted into an expression of concern, you simply shook your head—mumbling “Yes”.

Still training your gaze downwards, eyes almost twitching and lips pressed into a thin line. Then he heard them, not too far from the entrance—obnoxiously loud, howling laughter accompanying.

A clear grimance was stuck on your face now, placing a hand on his chest as you finally raised your eyes from the tray of empty vials you’d been sorting.

“Let me handle this, okay?” Voice suddenly hushed, hand lightly pushing him to sit in the far corner, out of sight. He didn’t protest, walking backwards in the direction you motioned him, despite the look of confusion, only asking—

“What? What’s the matter—“

You cut him off completely, practically pleading while you backed away to close him into the bay, brows knit high.

“Just promise you’ll stay here? Please?”

When he finally nodded, you shut the curtains behind you, taking in a final deep breath before plastering the most polite smile you could muster on your face.

It made you want to physically shrink into yourself, the arrogant, smug smirk his lips curled into when he saw you—as jarring as ever.

Avery.

Closely followed by Malfoy and Mulciber. Pathetic really, the lot of them. Walking around as if they were Heaven’s gift to earth, like they graced the presence of everyone they’d met. Fragile, weak men, who so clearly took pleasure in the discomfort they caused others.

So self-important and big headed that they can’t fathom the idea of rejection.

Because you had, in fact, rejected him.

But Avery was relentless—so used to being the one doing the discarding, so accustomed to having others scramble for his approval—he’d not taken it well.

You had tried patience. You had tried politeness. But it was becoming increasingly clear that neither would get you very far.

He leaned against the nearest bedframe, all mock ease and arrogance, his lips twisting into a grin that sent a fresh wave of repulsion through your stomach, setting uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

"Merlin, love," he drawled, letting his gaze drag down your figure, lingering far too long in places that made the surface of your skin crawl. "You really shouldn't be wasting your time in a place like this." He tutted, shaking his head in exaggerated pity. "What a shame—a pretty thing like you, running around cleaning up after other people's messes. Bet you could be doing something much more...suitable for a girl like you."

Malfoy and Mulciber chuckled under their breath, the former nudging Avery's shoulder as if egging him on.

"Shame she's not taking any applicants," Mulciber added with a grin. "Not officially, anyway."

Spine becoming taut, you didn’t even try hide the way your expression visibly distorted into disgusted frown.

Avery’s grin widened, his tone dropping into something lower, more vile. "Come on, sweetheart. I know you’ve got better things to do than play nursemaid to a bunch of useless sods," he said, stepping forward. "That uniform—" He whistled, dragging his eyes over you like you were something to be had. "Merlin—makes a man wonder, doesn't it?"

Roughly dropping the empty vial he’d been fiddling with back into the tray—"Bet you'd be a real treat with a bit less of it on."

The pressure in your jaw from the clench sent sharp pangs through your skull, stomach twisting.

"Shame, though," Avery continued, completely ignoring your stiffened posture, "a bird like you, wasting away in a place like this when you could be spending your time with someone who can show you a good one, a real man."

"Yeah?" you deadpanned. "Where would I find one of those?"

Mulciber let out an obnoxious bark of laughter, while Avery's smirk wavered for the briefest moment before he recovered.

"Feisty," he mused, tilting his head, eyes glinting with something nasty and superior. "I like that."

Knuckles white, fingers numb—you were sure your nails had drawn blood from their harsh digging into your palms.

"But let’s be honest, love," Avery continued, stepping even closer, his voice taking a somewhat conspiratorial cadance. "A girl like you—" He clicked his tongue. "I know what you really are. You act all high and mighty, like you’re better than us. But I reckon if I just—" He reached out toward you, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sleeve. "Pushed a little, you’d fold like the rest of them."

That was it.

"Right," you said, voice cold and even. "If you haven't got anything wrong with you, feel free to leave. I've already given you my answer." Snatching your arm away from him as though he was something filthy—purposefully dusting off where his fingers had been with a loud, “ugh,”

It was painfully silent, and for a moment Avery didn’t move.

His smirk vanished.

Its replacing expression, something ugly, almost unhinged—filled with malice, his nostrils flared as your words, your viseral reaction set in.

"Right," he sneered, stepping even closer, until there was barely a breath between you. "Of course. Because you think you're too good for me, don’t you?"

You stood your ground, not moving an inch—but the fury radiating from him was palpable.

"Don’t you?" he repeated, louder this time, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, puffed out as if to make you cower before him.

A dramatic sigh passed your lips, head rolling over your shoulders—when you looked back at him, an almost devious smirk played on your lips and with a condescending, feigned sympathetic coo, you responded.

“Yeah…I do.”

And that’s what really did it.

Avery’s lips curled into something vicious, eyes narrowing.

"It would be real unfortunate if something happened to that pretty little face of yours," he murmured, voice mockingly sweet but dripping with spite, his finger suddenly reaching up—so light, so deceptively gentle as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You began physically recoling away from his touch, but his fingers gripped the bottom of your jaw—holding you in place, "Seeing as that’s all you really have."

A hand clamped down over his wrist.

It happened so fast—one moment, Avery was inches from you, the next, he was yanked back, spun around so fast that his head barely caught up before he was staring at the broad chest of someone towering over him.

Remus.

He wasn’t angry.

No—anger was too simple, too small.

He was seething.

His grip on Avery’s wrist was bruising, his knuckles white with the pressure. His expression, usually so composed, so calm, was something terrifyingly unreadable.

"You’re a sick bastard, you know that?" Remus finally said, voice eerily smooth—so quiet it sent a shiver of something primal down everyone’s spine.

“Pestering a girl who’s already rejected you, and when that doesn’t work, you threaten her? Because your fragile ego couldn’t stomach the idea of her not wanting you?”

Avery sneered, yanking his arm, but Remus didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened.

“You’re a sick little boy with nothing to offer,” Remus continued, slow and deliberate, his voice dripping with disgust.

“I mean, it’s no wonder no one wants you—you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Avery’s face turned red—not just with fury, but humiliation. His eyes flickered to Malfoy and Mulciber, both of whom had stepped back ever so slightly, watching with careful amusement, not stepping in. The muscles in Avery’s jaw ticked. His free hand twitched, curling into a fist.

Remus didn’t so much as blink.

The cracking, whining sound of the hospital wing doors is all that was heard.

“What on earth is all this commotion?!”

Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice cut through the ward, almost bouncing—echoing violently off the walls, her stern expression making even Malfoy stand a little straighter. She narrowed her eyes, gaze flicking between each of you before they landed on Avery.

Yanking his arm from Remus’ grasp, stepping back with a sneer.

"If you’re not sick, you’ve got no business being here," she snapped. "Out—the lot of you!"

Avery was still enraged, but he knew better than to argue.

"Disgraceful," Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath as she turned to you, her hand coming onto you shoulder with a soft pat. "You’re dismissed for the evening, dear. Go on and get some rest."

You exhaled slowly through your nose, lips still pursed into a thin line, nodding.

But just as you turned to leave, Avery leaned in just close enough for only you to hear, voice low and dark.

"You’ll regret this," he murmured.

Then, with one last glare at Remus, he turned on his heel and stalked out, Malfoy and Mulciber following close behind.

You still hadn’t moved from behind your station, lost in deep thought, goosebumps still raised on your neck from Avery’s vile touch—the blood beneath your skin felt warm, too warm and buzzing with something you’d only describe as fury.

Gaze still fixed on an unimportant spot of the floor, the agitation seemed to only swell, invasive—inevitable, its just that you couldn’t believe it.

The audacity, the nerve, and on top of that; you let him get to you, knowing he relishes in the rise, knowing—

Warmth and a gentle hand, ghosting over your spine is what broke your chain of thought, you could still feel the skin of your cheeks internally burning. If it was anyone else, you would have flinched away, but, it was Remus.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his hand settle lightly against the small of your back, grounding. You finally took the steps to remove your dressings, hanging them by the doors—still warmed by the heat radiating from his palm.

A silent question, a quiet offering of comfort.

You exhaled, long and slow, willing away the leftover tension still coiled in your muscles. It didn’t work. Barely having made it half way through the walk to the common room, almost trudging to a stop—footsteps getting heavier the further you walked.

“That was—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head as a humorless huff left your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Remus’ fingers twitched against your back, the only sign of the anger still simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, you didn’t deserve it,” His voice was even, comforting but still slightly strained, turning the last corner before reaching the dungeon, he pressed further—“You know that, right?”

Pausing outside the common room door, you nodded, rolling your shoulders as if that would shake off the lingering filth Avery had left in his wake.

“I know,” you muttered. “Doesn’t make it feel any less disgusting.”

Remus didn’t respond right away, and when he did, it wasn’t with words. Instead, his hand slipped from its place on your back, pulling you in lightly by your wrists towards him. Engulfing you completely, arms firmly wrapped out you, anchoring—when you lifted your head to look at him, he was already looking down at you. Eyes swimming with sympathy and unspoken words of compassion that just escaped him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, searching his face. “Step in like that.”

The way his brows furrowed made it seem as though the thought had never even occurred to him.

“Of course, I did.” The answer was simple, final, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And to him, it was.

You studied his face for a little while longer, the look in his eyes so unbareably fond, it had the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end—you forced yourself to look away shaking your head, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of your lips.

Just the glimpse of your smile had a small twinge of pride blooming in Remus’ chest—unable to avoid the way his lips mirrored yours, forming a crooked one. Having felt the tension in your shoulders melt away, the way you comfortably tilted your head up at him again—a soft, sincere “Thank you,” resting in the air between you, he allowed himself to relax.

Ever so slowly, reluctantly, you were putting space between you, arm trailing down his as you walked backwards towards to door, drawing out the seconds so you could absorb his warmth just that bit longer.

“You don’t have to thank me,”

Still basking in the lasting grip of his hand on yours, arms stretching out and away from both your bodies, inching painstakingly back—”I know,”—the words were soft, airy—fingertips just barely connecting now, eyes locked with his.

The heavy sound and creeking of the door, is all that hung between you for a few long moments, both still savouring the last whisps of skin on skin—until your back was pressed against the door, a lazy smile spread across you lips, breathing out—”Goodnight, Remus,” before finally disappearing behind the cold metal.

Not even moments after you were out of his sight, he sighed, almost dreamily—fingertips still buzzing from your touch, he ran a hand through his already messy hair, letting it drag down the side of his face. Settling on his lips, still stretched into a cheesy grin as he started his walk back to his common room.

After that day, Remus somehow found a way to make sure you were rarely alone, always with you on your shifts, putting imperative effort into essentially escorting you around the castle—its not that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself.

It was that Avery was notoriously cruel and twisted on his own, but with the added encouragement of his entourage, and the burning desire Remus knew he had to defend his bruised ego.

It felt necessary to him.

He’d been so thorough, that even as the full moon came and went—Lily had coincidentally taken the time to join you before the end of your shift, grabbing dinner in the great hall every night that Remus was away. You were almost never alone.

Almost.

To and from classes, it became a bit harder to ensure you had company. But quite frankly you weren’t convinced it was necessary at all. It’s not just that you weren’t particularly fond of people taking time out of their day to get you from point A to point B.

It’s that you didn’t even believe Avery was actually going to do anything, it had been almost two weeks and he still had yet to utter a single word to you. Apart from the occassional glare from across the great hall—Avery’s little threat had been relatively harmless.

You didn’t even grant him the satisfaction of acknowledgement as you walked by him and his friends while they sat on a bench in the courtyard. And even as another snide and vulgar remark reached your ears, you continued to where you needed to—completely unfazed.

Though, it did make the grip you had on your textbooks, that tad bit tighter. Taking in a deep breath, you told yourself—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

It seemed that Avery was a bit of an opportunist, waiting for the right time to jab at you, waiting until you were alone.

One after the other, they hopped off the bench—trailing after you, the scuff of boots against the dry ground, the low murmurs of laughter that sent a wave of irritation down your spine. It was calculated—deliberate, the sun was low, casting long shadows across the courtyard—students milled about in the distance, not too many, just enough.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” Avery’s voice was deceptively light, laced with the same condescension that it dripped the last time. “You’ve been awfully rude, you know. Ignoring me like that.”

You sighed through your nose, forcing your steps to remain even—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

A presence at your side. Another just behind. You were surrounded, their shadows stretching long under the fading sunlight.

“I’m busy, Avery—don’t you have a stone to kick or something.”

His smirk twitched, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his fingers flex like he was resisting the urge to grab you. “You know,” he said, voice all mock thoughtfulness, “I wasn’t going to let you get away with what happened in the hospital wing.”

That made you stop.

The words dug under your skin, prickling, burning, unrelenting—you turned sharply, finally looking him in the eye.

Avery smiled, slow and victorious, relishing in the reaction.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, taking a deliberate step closer.

The urge to wipe that smug, entitled look off his face clawed at your insides.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think you’re being gracious, do you? Letting me ‘get away with it’? What, so I’m supposed to thank you for your mercy?”

Avery’s smirk twisted.

“Wouldn’t kill you to show a little gratitude,” he mused, eyes flicking down your body with a slow, assessing gaze had you fighting every urge to not simply swing at him. “You’ve been walking around here like you’re above people. You ought to be taught a lesson.”

He took a step closer, a sick, dread beginning to pool in the pits of your stomach, fingers twitching for your wand—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

“That uniform of yours,” he murmured, tilting his head like he was considering something. “You have to know what it does, don’t you? Little skirt, all dolled up like you’re just begging for attention.”

Eyes darkened with something vile.

“Though I suppose you’re already getting plenty of attention, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Flitting around in that little thing, acting all innocent, when we both know what you are.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make it invasive.

“Lupin have you playing nurse, is that it? Bet he just loves having you at his bedside, don’t you, sweetheart?” His voice dropped lower. “Bet you wouldn’t even have to ask to get on your knees for him.”

You’d finally had enough, completely disgarding your textbooks to the floor as your shoved him back aggressively. The heated argument erupting in no time—vexed and roaring, “All this bitching because one girl doesn’t want you—pathetic!” You almost didn’t recognise your own voice, shrill, abrupt, nasty.

Words violent and clashing against his, boiling and sharp, insults spewing, slicing through the once peaceful air of the courtyard. A few heads turned, a few onlookers slowing their steps as the tension grew thick, simmering with something electric, something dangerous.

It was the principle, you refused to back down.

Refused to let him win.

And when the venom on your tongue reached its peak, when you could no longer stand the sight of his smug, entitled face—taking a step back, face twisted and scrunched into a look a revolt, while you surveyed him. Eyes scanning from head to toe, you let out a loud, bellowing incredulous laugh before spitting, “You’re not even worth it, Avery. Infact, you’re a waste of time and good air,”

Then you turned away.

Disregarding—dismissed him like he was nothing.

The sharp crack of an insult, a curse from Avery’s lips, venomous and unchecked.

And that was when it happened.

You heard the whisper of fabric, the flick of a wrist—the fizzling hiss of magic.

The moment was barely a fraction of a second, having put just enough space between you, there was time—you’d be quick enough to deflect it—the hex. Every instinct, every reflex kicking and screaming to do so, to move, fight back before it hit you.

But—there were just too many people.

Too many bodies standing in your proximity, too many possible targets, too much risk of having someone else caught in the crossfire. Enough time to deflect, not enough to redirect—you’d have no control over where it would go, you didn’t even hear the curse he muttered, no chance of knowing what it could do, no control of who it could hit.

So you made a choice, bracing yourself, every muscle of your being constricting, becoming taut.

You took it—biting into your lip as the awful, searing burn of the spell made contact with your back, the impact making you seize up even further, hurtling forwards, upwards.

The world around you blurred, spun—then—

Stone.

A sickening crack as the side of your body collided with the hard stone of the courtyard walls, ribs taking the brunt of the impact, before you bounced off it, gravity pulling you down. Slamming against the firm ground with a dull thud.

At some point, Regulus has caught sight of the commotion and was already running to the great hall in search for his brother—who would without a doubt be with Remus.

Pain exploded through your side, agonising, blooming mercilessly with every breath, every slight movement. The sharp stinging throb of your ribs, your lungs burning as the weight of every inhale pressed against the bones—each one more of a struggle than the last.

Curling in to yourself, hand desperately clutching at your side—eyes squeezed shut, the world sounded so distant, muffled, the first thing you register was the silence—all you could feel was the small shards of grass brushing against the side of your cheek with each shaking tremble of your body.

Then, a second later—murmurs. A ripple of shocked voices.

A small crowd had formed, hesitant, concerned, a voice was so close but so far away you wouldn’t make it out over the gurgling, rushing sound that floated between your ears—instictively raising a hand, a signal—stay away.

Barely hearing the sharp gasp from somewhere in the distance—the sound of loud panicked footsteps—running. Unsure of how much time you’d spent laying there—only disturbed by the way the footsteps made your body shake as they got closer, you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the desperate calls of what you thought might have been your name.

Hand coming into contact with something hard and hot—trying to push it away, it was all too much and you were still—the pain of movement so overbearing. Pushing through the crowd, his heart rested firmly in the pits of his stomach at the sight of you—fragile, just a small mass of robes, folded into yourself.

Eerily similar to that morning two moons ago.

He scooped you up quickly, despite the weak and pitiful protest that left your lips, the heartbeat that was now pressed close to your ear was mildly soothing—familiar.

Remus.

Each one of his rushed jolting strides made the stabbing pain in your side more noticeable, and though the voices blurred and blended into eachother, you could make out three, maybe four other sets of rushed footsteps behind you.

A mild, faintly sweet smell of anti-bacterial filled your nostrils, the hospital wing. Even in his panic, you could recognise the overly catious, gentle way Remus set you down on bed—still pained whimpers spilled from your lips, once again curling in on yourself.

Pomfrey’s voice was sharp and alarmed, bringing you ever so slighty back into the room, she was telling, no asking something, and Regulus’ voice chimed in.

“It was Avery, he hexed her while her back was turned—coward.”

You could feel the heat of Remus’ hand on your back, trying to sooth you, calm the injured groans that you couldn’t hold in. And as Pomfrey’s gentle hand came to move yours from their desperate grasp on your side, you squirmed away—cracking an eye open as another wave a pain radiated through your body.

She shushed you, voiced becoming more tender and quiet—”You have to let me see, dear,”

Slowly, reluctantly, you withdrew your hands, breaths becoming more shallow with each moment, and as she lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing your skin, a chorus of horrified gasps sounded around you.

Your side adorned with dark splotches of red and black and blue surrounding the area, streaking up your side in cruel, uneven smears. The skin was swollen, raised in places where the bone had set wrong—a clear distorted, raised bump peaking at the side. Flinching sharply at the prodding touch Pomfrey pressed into you, hands gripping the sides of the bed in restraint.

“Oh dear,” The grave tone in which she spoke did not give Remus the sense of comfort he was looking for, brows knit high on his forehead, and like the others, gaze transfixed on the huge blossoming mark on your side.

She turned in a flurry of motion, disappearing behind the curtain only to reappear moments later, her expression unreadable but urgent.

They waited anxiously to be in the know. Barely minutes had passes since your arrival, and a sobering silence had already hung in the ward, the only audible sound was you.

The laboured, heaves and cries you struggled to contain.

No one spoke.

Lily and James stood stiffly at the foot of the bed, their worried eyes darting between you and Pomfrey. Regulus was deathly still, his lips pressed into a tight line.

Finally, after multiple rounds to and from the cabinet Pomfrey, took the first of three vials and put a few drops of the cloudy white liquid under your tongue, doing the same with a few more drops from a vial with green liquid—it must have been foul tasting from the way your body stiffened with a small retch. With a deep breath, she announced to them—

"This is nasty business," she said, voice low, steady. "I’ll need you to hold her down."

Remus’ head snapped up.

"What?"

His hand had come up to your head, stoking the hair that had stuck to your face away—sweat prickling at your hairline.

Pomfrey didn’t hesitate.

“She has a broke rib, it’s healing in the wrong position,” her hands her already moving to press against the swelling at your side, even as you twisted in agony, she continued,

“I need to re-break the bone.”

Eyes nearly popped out of his head, heartbeat ringing loud in his ears—though still not loud enough to drown out the constant shallowed, wheezes that left you, littered with moans of distress that got weaker as the seconds passed—your lungs struggled to fill with enough air to support your voice.

Re-break the bone.

It sounded so clinical, so matter-of-fact, so detached from the reality of what it actually meant.

Your breaths were coming too shallow, too fast, your vision slightly spotting at the edges. The sharp, stabbing ache in your ribs with each inhale made it impossible to breathe properly. Every tiny movement sent daggers through your body, the weight of it all crushing.

“But she’s still awake,” James whispered mostly to himself, soft, quiet—but everyone still heard.

The words rattled around in your skull, sinking past layers of pain and exhaustion, now, you were panicking, hand frantically clawing up Remus’ forearm.

“We don’t have time to wait for a sleeping potion to work, it’s already healing as we speak.”

Your vision was blurry, but you could feel Remus’ hand against your forehead, could hear the barely restrained emotion in his voice.

“Shhh, it’ll be over soon,” What else could he have said?

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing anyone could do but hold you down and watch.

It needed to be done, you understood that, but it didn’t make your next words any easier to say, every syllable a struggle against your fractured ribs, “Do it now—,”

Pomfrey nodded.

James and Regulus hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, grim-faced, exchanging silent glances before reaching for you.

James’ hands found your shoulders, firm but careful, his grip like iron. Regulus settled by your legs, a single hand pressed against your thigh, his face etched with a deep frown—your pain so clear, so raw he couldn’t look at you. Lily hovered just beside him, her fingers twitching at her sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you herself.

And then there was Remus.

His hands were steady, one gripping yours tightly, the other resting against your head, his thumb brushing against your temple in slow, comforting strokes, feeling truly tormented—harsh wrinkles between his brows as he winced with you. Dreading the idea that you will now know of a pain so awful and familiar to him.

Pomfrey took a deep breath—"On three."

Your own breath caught by the lump in your throat.

"One.”

Gripping on Remus tighter, gaze fearful as it fell on him.

"Two."

Your body tensed, finally screwing your eyes shut, forcing the brewing tears out the corners, instinctively bracing—

"Three."

The crack was sickening.

But the sound that followed was much much worse.

Your jaw slacked releasing a truly blood-curdling, tortured, harrowing, an ear-splitting scream—it ripped through your throat, hoarse and choked, resonating through the ward with an echo.

A pain unlike anything you’d ever known exploded through your side, hot and sharp, rattling up your spine and everywhere. It felt like being torn in half, deep and intense. Your body tried to arch away, escape the splittering agony that set every nerve on fire, but James held you down, gritting his teeth as you thrashed weakly against him.

Only able to focus on the reorganising of bones at your side, the low grinding and shifting sound you heard from within yourself.

A fresh wave of agony struck—white-hot and blinding—and suddenly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stay awake, head lolling in clear delirium, vision blurring, blackening at the edges, sob ridden whimpers and hiccups still tumbling out between wheezes, your grasp on Remus faltering.

Your vision tunneled, black at the edges, fading—

"Stay with me, y/n,” he whispered, voice raw—wrecked, laced with something aching. "You’re okay."

You didn’t believe him.

The slow and gentle soothing, lulling stroke of his palms over your hair matched the pattern his fingertips ghosted over your hand, fingers intertwined—he held your hand close, pressed to his chest as if letting you go would mean losing you completely.

Still reeling from the pain, nerve endings on fire, all you could muster the strength to produce was one word, weak and unsteady—”Remus?”

Pomfrey worked quickly again, pressing another vial to your lips, the taste barely registering past the burning in your chest—applying a large bandage coated in medicinal ointment to your side. Remus took the small towel by the bedside, softly dabbing off the beads of sweat that remained on your forehead—

"Breathe, love," he murmured, voice soft as silk, but no less urgent. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Your lungs shuddered—staggering at the effort, the air thick, heavy, impossible to take in. But you tried. The worst of it dwindled away, not gone, not by a long shot—but enough for the unbearable pressure to settle into something dull, something that no longer consumed everything.

Your body went slack.

Regulus let out a long, slow breath.

James loosened his grip, rubbing a hand over his face.

And Remus—His legs almost gave out beneath him, barely able to swallow the lump in his throat as he took a deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever, and he leaned in closer—the idea of continued space between you was basphemous.

No one spoke.

For a long moment, the only sound in the ward was the shallow, uneven rhythm of your breaths.

"It will heal properly now," she said, her voice more gentle than before, but edged with a small tinge of relief, “I slowed her healing, so the pain will linger for a few days. She’ll need rest.”

Then she was gone, disappearing behind the curtain, leaving the rest of them standing around your bed, and Remus—he only stared at you, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing the back of your hand, eyes running over your exhausted figure, eyes clearly heavy with the grueling after effects of your ordeal.

A long silence stretched between you.

Letting out a slow, jagged, painful inhale, tongue darting out to wet your dry lips to no avail—it was hushed and raw, “Water,”

Remus all but scrambled to get the small metal cup by the bedside, gently slipping a hand under your neck to tilt your head forward—helping you take a few sips. The others all just watch the scene unfolding infront of them, the comfortable way you leaned into Remus’ touch, the unnecessarily fond and tender look in his eyes as he instinctively dotes on you. How his hand trailed back to yours, drawn in to it like a magnet.

Lily couldn’t help the small knowing smile that twitched onto her lips.

Then, the heavy wooden doors of the hospital wing slammed open abrupty with a force that rattled the glass vials on Pomfrey’s shelves.

Everyone’s heads snapped up.

Sirius stood in the entrance, his chest rising and falling with sharp, heavy breaths, his knuckles raw and split. His robes were disheveled, streaked with dirt and something darker, something red. And in his grasp, dragged by the scruff of his collar, was none other than Avery.

Or, at least, what was left of him.

Avery was battered—face swollen, a deep gash running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, lip split so severely that blood had seeped into his teeth. His robes were torn, dirt and grime smeared across the fabric, and his wand—his precious, useless wand—was nowhere to be seen.

Sirius took a few steps forward, his grip tight on Avery’s collar, until they were just a few paces away from your cot.

And with a sharp jerk, he threw Avery to the floor.

The Slytherin crumpled like a ragdoll, landing in a heap at the foot of your bed, groaning as his battered body hit the stone.

Pomfrey gasped, hand flying to her chest.

"What on earth—"

But Sirius wasn’t listening.

He stood over Avery, hands curling into fists at his sides, his entire body still taut with adrenaline. For a long, stretched-out moment, he simply stared at the boy on the ground, nostrils flaring with every furious breath, as if daring him to move. Then, voice low and seething, Sirius asked,

"Haven’t you have something to say?"

The room was silent.

Avery coughed, his body shuddering with the effort.

Straining yourself to move further up the bed—you watched with everyone, every breath rattling in your lungs, eyes dark and cold.

Avery hesitated for a second too long, and Sirius moved—a single, sharp step forward, hands twitching, still ready to rip him apart.

"Alright!" Avery wheezed, flinching back. "Alright!"

The silence stretched thick.

"I did it—I hexed her!"

The words came out weak, broken, almost panicked—pathetic.

Sirius said nothing, only raised a brow, unimpressed.

Avery swallowed hard, shifting painfully on the floor.

"I’m sorry."

There it was.

Sirius still didn’t speak, just watched him, waiting—the digust dripping off of the scrowl that sat on his face.

"He—" Avery’s voice cracked, shaking violently as he forced himself to continue, "—he didn’t do anything to me. I just…" His throat bobbed, his entire face twisted in humiliation. "I just walked into the Whomping Willow."

James was grinning now, shaking his head in mock pity. "Wow. That’s just—" he let out a low whistle, "—real unlucky, mate."

Sirius smirked, slow and dangerous.

But Remus wasn’t smiling.

He was staring at Avery, his face unreadable, his grip on your hand still firm but not tight. He hadn’t said a single word since Sirius arrived, hadn’t moved a muscle—just watching.

Sirius took a deep breath, exhaling sharply as he rolled out his shoulders, like he was only just calming down from whatever happened before he’d stormed into the ward.

Then, crouching down so he was eye level with Avery, he grinned.

"You should consider yourself lucky," he mused, voice dangerously casual, "because if it were up to him?" He tilted his head, nodding over to Remus, smile sharp and positively wolfish. "You wouldn’t be conscious right now."

Avery’s entire body shuddered.

Sirius only chuckled darkly, clapping him on the shoulder—hard enough to make him flinch.

“Off with you now, before Remus decides to be less forgiving,”

Avery swallowed thickly, glancing toward the matron—who, while still clearly appalled, had her arms rigidly crossed but was making no move to defend him. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself off the floor, every movement making him wince. And then—without another word—he turned and limped toward the exit, humiliated beyond belief.

The moment the doors shut behind him, a collective breath was released.

Remus turned his attention back to you, the anger that previously blazed in his eyes melting away in seconds, another smaller, more comfortable silence lulled over the ward. Sirius turning, and as he took the last few steps toward your bed, looking you up and down, taking in the way you were still clutching weakly at your ribs, holding onto Remus, he let out a breath, asking—

"You alright?"

The very corners of your lips curled, twitching up every so slightly as you huffed out a choked snicker, and though it was cut off by a sharp hiss—you were clearly amused. Letting your head fall back tiredly with—”I’m alright, much better now,”

Pomfrey slipped through the curtains again, and while she changed the small now sweat ridden towel by your bed, refilling the water, she said—

"I assume I don’t need to tell any of you to let her sleep."

She eyed the group pointedly.

James had the decency to look sheepish. Lily nodded. Regulus said nothing, but his arms were crossed, as Sirius rested his elbow on his shoulder—the usual indifference returning.

But Remus, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand away—you looked so tired, probably wanted some rest, but he was frozen in place, stuck by your side.

Pomfrey sighed.

"Fine," she muttered, almost to herself, "just don’t let me catch you keeping her awake."

He let out a sigh of relief as she left, the others slowly filtering out, Lily giving your hand a comforting tight squeeze as she left. Remus pulled his chair up closer, allowing his body to lean slightly on the bed, just watching you eyes full of worry.

It was slowly and shaky, but you brought your free hand up to him—he stayed still, watching expectantly for your next movements. Your fingertips threading slightly through his hair in a gentle stroke, pushing it away from his face—mirroring his from before.

But yours slipped down and settled at the base of his neck, fingers still curling around the strands—touch too tender. Eyes scanning his face just as much as his were scanning yours.

“You don’t need to stay here—I’ll be fine for the night,” It came out heavy and mumbled, less convincing than you’d hoped. His face flashed slightly with an almost offended expression, the idea clearly never having crossed his mind.

“I want to stay,”

His words were plain, honest—left little room for protest on your end, but you still tried. And even as your eyes got heavier, sleep weighing heavy on your body—”But you can’t sleep on that chair all night, you’ll break your back,”

A huffed laugh came through his nose, typical crooked smile playing on his lips—”I’ll be fine—”

“Come up here,”

Yours words cut him off, light and simple, and you shuffled over onto your side—lips pursed to hold in a wince, making space for him before he could protest. His eyes just darted between you and the now open space, trying and failing miserably to stutter out an excuse—but the sleepy bored look in your eyes, accompanied with the light pats on the bed made him relent.

Slipping into the bed, careful not to knock you and keeping a safe, meticulous distance from you, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes rolling with a dramatic sigh—”I’m not made of glass, y’know,”

Watching as his form relaxed a bit, taking up more space, you slowly curled into the gap he’d left, drapping the thin cover over you both, humming as you finally closed your eyes. He watched you settle carefully, hesitating before bring an arm around to softly pull you in slightly closer to him, the smile twitched onto his face, when you unconsciously burrowed into him—allowing sleep to over come him too.

The change between you wasn’t instantaneous, nor was it something either of you consciously acknowledged. It was slow, creeping, like ink bleeding through parchment—gradual, yet utterly inescapable.

Because it wasn’t just that night you spent in each other’s comfortable and content company, and though it started with the nights, this was the first of many.

Somewhere along the way, your post-shift routine had shifted. You never really meant to end up in Remus’ dorm every night—it had just happened. One moment, you were finishing up in the library, the next, you were in his bed, limbs tangled lazily, a book forgotten between you as you talked in hushed voices about anything and everything. His sheets smelled faintly of parchment and something woodsy, and without fail, your shoulders, your knees, your arms would brush, a constant, grounding touch that neither of you ever pulled away from.

At some point, you both stopped pretending this was something normal friends did.

Maybe it was the way his fingers always lingered on your wrist when he passed you something, or the way he never failed to have a Bloodsucker rolling around at the bottom of his bag.

It had started as a small thing—insignificant, really. You hadn’t even noticed it at first, not until the third or fourth time it happened.

The first time, it was after a particularly long shift, your legs aching from standing too long, your mind buzzing with exhaustion. You’d barely slumped into your usual seat beside Remus in his common room when he wordlessly reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A small, wrapped sweet.

You had blinked at it, then at him.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged, as if it was nothing. “Thought you could use one.”

Then again between classes, during late-night study sessions, in the middle of a quiet walk back to the dorms—whenever you reached for one absentmindedly, he had one ready, handing it to you without a second thought. He never even looked like he thought about it, just pulled it from his pocket like it was as natural as breathing.

The realization hit one afternoon, sitting across from him in the library, books scattered between you. He passed you a piece of parchment, and along with it, he slid a familiar, wrapped sweet across the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, picking it up. “Okay, you definitely don’t carry these around for yourself.”

He barely looked up from his book, but the ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Maybe I just like being prepared.”

“For what?”

Remus finally glanced up, a single brow raised. “For you, obviously.”

Maybe it was the projects—you always ended up partners. Whether it was a conscious decision or just something unspoken between you, you gravitated toward one another like it was inevitable. Like it was meant to be. The others barely batted an eye anymore, rolling their eyes as you took your usual seats together, heads ducked in close as you whispered back and forth, scribbling notes in the margins of each other’s parchment.

Or maybe it was the bookstore.

That trip to Hogsmeade was different. You’d both walked through the cobbled streets, the wind crisp but pleasant, your arms brushing as you made your way toward the small, tucked-away shop Remus had offhandedly mentioned once before. It was his place—somewhere quiet, somewhere his. And yet, he’d brought you.

He watched as your fingers trailed the spines, his own hand brushing over yours as he pointed out his favorites. There was a certain weight in the air, a quiet understanding you both wordlessly acknowledge—both so easily able to find solace in each other, a unspoken harmony—solidarity.

And then there were his nights.

Pomfrey was very understanding when you began to ask to have the days after the full moon off.

You had entered his dorm without knocking—because, by now, you never had to. You expected him to be curled up in bed, exhausted and aching, maybe reading, maybe just resting. Instead, the moment you sat down beside him, he shifted—eyes heavy-lidded, body sluggish, but his arm curled loosely around your waist, his face nudging into the fabric of your jumper.

You barely even hesitated before your fingers found his hair, carding through it with a softness you didn’t even have to think about.

You were there every morning after, pulling the duvet up over his shoulders, murmuring softly as he pressed closer, his fingers grazing the fabric of your sleeve like he needed to feel you near.

And somehow, somehow, the nights you stayed over became less about exhaustion and more about something else.

You weren’t sure when you stopped leaving.

There was no more, “I should go,” no more, “It’s getting late.”

One day, you simply didn’t.

It just took one moment—you were dozing beside him, your legs tucked between his, your cheek pressed into his pillow. The next, you were waking up, his arm draped heavily over your waist, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His scent clung to you, warm and familiar, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft warmth of him against your back.

It was inevitable.

The stolen glances, the lingering touches—each one more obvious than the last. The shift had been slow, careful, but now it felt like a rope being pulled taut, a thread stretched thin between the two of you, waiting to snap.

The day it did, was so ordinary.

Nothing out of the daily routine for you and Remus—you’d made your way over to his dorm, to keep him company, of course—James and Sirius were off at quidditch practise, leaving just the two of you. Both lying on your backs, sprawled across the bed.

The light music of one of Remus’ records droning on in the back as you listened to the low and steady melody of his voice—reading outloud, you’d have to admit, you weren’t paying as much attention to what he was saying as you were to the light vibrations his words sent through the matress beneath you.

Taking a few moments of near silence for you to realise he’d stopped reading, mumbling out quietly, “Why’d you stop?”, as you turned to look at him—but he was already looking at you. The sudden intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat, but his voice as casual as ever in your ears—”You were falling asleep, that’s why,”

The ghost of a pout reached your lips, lightly defending yourself in feigned offence, “No I wasn’t.”

He huffed out a light scoff, shifting onto his stomach, somehow impossibly closer to you—the breath of his words brushing over the curve of your cheek. One of those crooked smiles that made your chest bloom with an undeniably fuzzy feeling etched onto his face, “If you weren’t falling asleep what did I just say?”

Your lips parted, sucking an inhale as if you were about to answer, but all that came out were stammered stutters of half started words, before you huffed out in defeat—he was already laughing at you. And it shook the bed, making you bounce slightly up and and down in sync with him, it made you giggle—joining and mixing in with his as it echoed off the walls of his dorm.

When it finally quieten down, lazy grins still stretch out on both of your faces, he couldn’t help it—it was second nature at this point, he leaned in closer, fingertips rushing the hair lightly away from your face with a low content hum.

It didn’t make sense, the familiarness of his touch was the same as always, and yet today, it made your mouth so incredibly dry—swallowing thickly as he inched closer and closer. The space between you barely a fingers width.

The sun shone in lightly through the window behind him, giving a small spotlight to the golden brown whisps of curls that framed his face—his eyes were scanning your face, for reluctance, hesitation—anything.

But your expression was calm, matching his movement—eyes darting around his, catalogueing his features, the way his eyelashes became slightly straighter towards the ends of his eyes, and the extra freckles by the edges of his eyebrows. Involuntarily, you sucked in a small sharp breath as he closed in, when there was just a slither of space left between you.

He paused, eyes flicking between yours and your lips, words so shockingly tender, barely above a whisper—”Do you want me to stop?”

You couldn’t trust your voice to not break under the pressure of his gaze—so warm, so fond. Instead you just shook your head, fingers twitching up to his arm, he was so close—but hesitant still. Catious.

Even as he leaned down towards you, he paused again, just as the tips of your nose brushed against each other—eyes still searching for even a drop of doubt in yours. Shifting to hover over you lightly, fingertips coming to just lightly trace along the line from the bottom of his jaw, to the drip in his neck.

His lips brushed against yours.

It was soft at first, testing, but the moment your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he pressed closer, Remus abandoned all his reserved. Melting against your touch with a low sigh, dropping the weight he held on his forearms and pressing into you, deepening the kiss. Something that was once gentle and timid, bloomed into more feverish, wanting touches and grasps.

His hands gripping almost roughly at the curve of your hips, rolling you over and onto him—erupting in giggles against his lips—the sound muffled between the spaces where your mouths met, soft and breathless.

His laughter mixed with yours, a quiet, husky sound that sent warmth curling deep in your stomach. His hands slid over your waist, fingers splayed against the thin fabric of your shirt, his touch firm, but reserved—like he wasn’t sure if he should be holding you like this but couldn’t bring himself to stop.

You didn’t want him to.

Both hands sliding to his neck, exploring, travelling up and down—carding through his hair one moment, holding desperately onto his jaw the next, pulling him closer as if to fall into him—become one. His touch leaving the surface beneath your skin, warm and craving.

Muffled groans and whimpers sounded through the room, the pads of his fingers pressing slightly harder into the rounds of your hips—leaning up into you, into the kiss, breathless and greedy. Sitting himself up straight—allowing his hands to wander, trailing down your spine—spending jolting shivers through you, pawing at your thighs.

Indulging in the first taste of you, the pent up desire set free in the form of unrestrained, frenzied kisses. Relishing in the contact, the cooling sensation of your cold body against his—touches becoming rushed and eager as he drank in every gasp of his name that passed from your lips onto his.

It wasn’t until his hands, once again, found purchase on your hips—grasp almost bruising, causing your to rock helplessly against him, did you pull away suddenly with a sharp gasp. Burying your face into the curve of his neck, chest heaving. A string of apologies immediately tumbled from his mouth, “fuck m’ sorry, I didn’t mean to—y/n,”

He leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, but you’d brought your hands up to cover it, barely loud enough to hear, squeaking out, “It’s fine—just don’t look at me,” It was a bit late for that, he could already see them—the small dark veins that pulsed and protuded from the base of your neck stretching further up.

“Y/N,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet, not like this—hands still stuck firmly to your face—chest still rising and falling in quick succession, just as breathless as him. He pressed again, voice low and soft, comforting—”Lemme see,”

“Just gimme a minute,” Voice panicked and muffled by your palms.

He didn’t wait, just taking your wrists lightly, and pulling them away—your head hung low in shame, avoiding his gaze, still trying to catch your breath. Letting go of your wrists, they fell to your sides, and his hands came up to your face, compelling your gaze to meet his.

“Why are you hiding from me?”

Eyes as warm and sincere as ever, he let his hands trail down your neck, ghosting over you shoulders—gently tracing the curve of your spine, forcing a soft gasp from your lips as a shiver ran through you.

His touch was delicate, reverent, as though he feared you might break beneath his fingers. His thumbs brushed just beneath your jaw, tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin—where the veins pulsed dark and traitorous against the curve of your throat.

“Y/N,” he murmured again, softer this time, like he was afraid to startle you. “It’s alright.”

Leaning down, peppering slow, calming kisses to the exposed skin of your collarbones, the goosebumps raising in their wake impossible to ignore—hands finding their way to grasp at the fabric of his jumper.

His hands now rested low on your waist, making your breath hitch as he nipped lightly at the skin of your neck, trailing his soft pecks up and down from your neck to your jaw. Humming as you leaned into them, melting.

Becoming putty in his hands, once again.

Light gasps slipping through your lips when he brought the thin skin behind your ear in between his teeth—the lightest of bites and bruises littered between his words; “Did you have your potion last week?”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, just barely tugging at the soft brown tufts, panting out, breathless; “Forgot,”

He only hummed back again in acknowledgment, bringing his lips back to yours, swallowing the whines of his name the your couldn’t contain. “So pretty,” he mumbled against your lips. Touch worshipping each piece of skin it passed, fingertips inching up the underside of your shirt—leaving light feathering touches across your skin before residing in the dip of your waist.

Kisses slipping away from your lips as you shuddered against him—lips pressing firm against the curve of your jaw he whispered, “Want a bite?”

The drag of your fingertips against the skin at the nape of his neck forced a groan from his lips, as he continued his assault on the sensitive skin by the dip in your neck. You almost didn’t notice what he said, brain warm and fuzzy from the hot kisses—eventually mumbling out, “Not funny, Rem,”

Your words came out breathy and distracted, less convicted than you’d like, sighing dreamily against his touch. You could feel the way he smiled against your skin—“Mmm not laughing,” so close you could feel each rumbling vibration of his words in your chest the warmth radiating off him mind numbing.

A gasps catching in your throat as he tightened his grip on you, anchoring—punctuating his words with the small nibbles and pecks, “Been thinking about it…for a while,” it was so hard to focus on what he was saying with the way the pads of his fingers dug into flesh at your side—as if it were possible to pull you any closer than you already were, “—trust you,”

He leaned back slightly, taking a look at your hazy expression—lips swollen and glistening, half lidded and breathless. Absolutely bewitching. He looked just as tempting, tops of his cheekbones reddened matching the deep red of his parted lips. Just barely brushing his nose against yours, sighing almost dreamily at the contact—his thumbs stroking slowly back and forth over the flesh of your hips.

Whispering so softly, “Only if you want to,” a pressure-less offer.

Instead of responding, you just leaned into him further, reconnecting your lips making him sigh contently. Eventually, trailing cautiously light, ghosting kisses down his jaw, mirroring his own nipping and sucking pattern. Fingers twiddling and intertwining with the small curls at the base of his scalp.

Testing, contemplating his offer when you found yourself hovering over the junction by his neck, his heartbeat joining yours in its loud thumping rhythm that rung in your ears. Ever so slightly craning his neck, baring the skin to you—soothing your hesitation with simple words, “It’s okay,”

The air almost stilling, his voice so delicate even as he felt the small sharp, piercing of your teeth into his skin. He’d thought it would hurt more, be more uncomfortable—unpleasant. But he just felt a rush in his head, jaw slacking slightly permitting the prettiest groan you’d ever heard. Hips stuttering against yours, eyes almost rolling as he flooded all your senses, unconsciously grasping onto him tighter.

A hot buzzing filling him entirely—surprisingly euphoric, intoxicating. Your body shuddered against his, muffled delicate whimpers passing through you, licking lightly at the broken skin as you withdrew—it was short, barely ten seconds of connection. All nerve endings in your body set alight, looking back at pupils blown.

Drunk on him.

Exhaling with almost a honeyed purr, he lifted his thumb wiping gently at the corners of your mouth. Planting a kiss just by where is thumbs had been, letting them trail again down your jaw—slower than before, less fevered, more lax. Smirking against you when he bit over a mark he’d already made—earning a sweet gasp from your lips.

“Better?”

His voice took an almost smug cadence, and when you hummed back shy and lazy, lips still parted, satisfied sighs spilling for you. Remus couldn’t help the bubble of light laughter that rumbled in his chest—shaking you on his lap. Messily kissing back up to your lips, smiling against you. Savouring each and second of your moment.

When lunch struck and you strolled into the great hall, hand in hand—you shrunk slightly at the quiet murmurs that sounded as you walked between the benches. It wasn’t that you were together, no, that was normal.

It was the trail of red and pink bruises and hickeys that adorned both your necks—failing miserably to cover it with the collar of your shirt. Remus on the other hand, walked in as confident as ever—squeezing your intertwined fingers reassurance. Wearing his marks like a badge of honour—leaning down to your ear, whispering in a teasing tone,

“At least we’re matching,”

And when you sat down at the table with him, rather than your usual spot two tables across, lolly in hand—after Remus silently shot a look at Sirius that said you better not start. He settled beside you, hands interlocked under the table, his warmth against you, your cold against him, comfortable. Blissfully ignoring the way Sirius muttered “About time,” under his breath.

[scribbledghost]

hiii I really like your inhuman vessels, it’s kinda different from what we usually see and I like it so much!!

I was wondering how the inhuman vessels would react if reader was depressed or was going through a tough time?

hope you have a good day <33

I'm glad you asked, because I really needed to write about this today.

Got kinda long, so I'll put it under a cut.

I like to think they all can tell what's wrong without you having to really explain. Telepathic connections have their perks, after all. So when your melancholy and ache and pain creeps into their own subconscious, they're all on high alert almost immediately.

Who comes to you first really depends on what they can sense you need right now. Vessel appears if you need a soft, gentle presence. II appears if you need someone to offer solutions and practical advice. III appears if you need someone lighthearted who can make you laugh. And IV appears if you need a distraction, someone to tell you stories or pull you up to dance with him.

Granted, that's just who finds you first. All four of them will eventually make their way to you.

Their primary objective is making sure you know how loved you are. How much you mean to them, how much better their existences are now that you're in them. I can see a lot of cuddling happening here, either in a big pile or just one of them holding you while the others stay close. If you cry during this, that's okay. They'll be more than happy to keep you close until you're ready.

If it's a low mood, they'll stay like this and bring you whatever you need until you feel better. If it's something more chronic like a depressive episode, they'll switch tactics just a little bit.

If it's long-lasting, they'll help you do anything you need help doing. Need a bath? They'll gladly carry you to the tub and help. Need food and water? They'll bring it. Need some sunshine? They'll gently help you outside for a quick walk around the garden.

I headcanon that Sleep found Vessel when he was at his lowest, so he's very well-versed on how you're feeling and how difficult it is to overcome. The others understand as well, for Sleep tends to gravitate towards those who are desperate, but Vessel knows depression a bit more intimately I think.

It's not an uncommon occurrence for one (or multiple) of them to sort of... siphon off your pain and take it upon themselves. Vessel is particularly prone to doing this. All of them know it's important to let you feel what you feel, but none of them can stand seeing you so upset. The least they can do is take some of your mental pain for themselves, if just to take some of the edge off for you.

Overall, their paramount concern is taking care of you during your tough spot. They won't leave you alone - at least, not if they can help it, and not for very long if they can't - and at least one vessel is always with you if you'll allow it. Granted, they still have standard worshipper duties to attend to in the name of Sleep, but they'll do everything they can to ensure it can be done with only 3 of them so one can stay with you. More than once, Vessel has filled in for III or IV during musical rituals, and all of them have taken over the others' tasks so they don't have to go anywhere.

Whatever you need, all you need to do is ask (either out loud or by projecting your want to one of them telepathically). They will all move heaven and earth to get you whatever you desire, if only to see you smile.

[genderqueerdykes]

I’m not homophobic, but your bio is really confusing me…

If you can do that, can you break it down for me? Explain it like I’m five, iykwim (i just discovered that im abrosexual so im kinda new to the whole lgbtqia+ schtick)

yeah sure!

I'm intersex and have a complicated identity because of it. i don't fit into just one box, i fit into multiple queer identities. I've had to transition into gender itself, as an intersex person, because I've been told I'm "too masc to be a woman" and "not a real man". i haven't been allowed to be a man OR woman for most of my life, I've had to transition into gender itself

I'm bigender, and im a woman and and a man at the same time. both my manhood and womanhood are trans identities because I've had to transition into both. im also both transfeminine and transmasculine, for the same reason. they don't cancel each other out, or anything like that. I've had to transition into masculinity and femininity as well, as both have been held away from me just out of arm's reach

I'm a multigender butch lesbian! there's no rules that state that lesbians can't have more than one gender, and can't be men. many lesbians are also men. many transmascs start in the lesbian community and like to stay there because it still suits them. for me, ive always resonated with lesbianism. the way i love other people is very sapphic. i dont have to change the words i use for myself because people believe lesbians can't be trans or multigender. there's no rules. a lesboy/guydyke is a lesbian who's also a man or vibes with manhood

I'm also a gay man, which is why i also identify as a fag. I'm both a gay man and a lesbian at the same time, and i really resonate with both the terms fag and dyke. they both suit me! I'm bisexual, because i have 2+ modes of attraction. gayness and lesbianism are 2 different modes of attraction i experience

I'm genderqueer. I'm not a gender conforming man or woman. im a feminine man and a masculine woman. i do not fit into binary manhood and womanhood. the term non binary doesn't suit me. it doesn't feel good when applied to myself, but genderqueer is perfect!

im aromantic and on the asexual spectrum. i do not like romance or romantic relationships at all. i dont experience crushes or the desire to cuddle, kiss, go on dates or anything else associated with romance. I'm also on the ace spectrum. i don't get horny when i see attractive people. and i do not want to have sex with them. i can find people attractive but I don't want to have sex about it

hope that helps somewhat! it really isnt that confusing at all once you realize you can do what you want forever. queer identities don't have to make sense. they're identities, not scientific theories. queer people are as broad and varied as anyone else! the definitions of queer identities are suggestions, not boxes to shove people into

[sockeye-station]

Wait is your four the captain? How did that happen?

YES! YES!! I GOT SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT! I WIN!!!!

CLEARS THROAT. OKAY OKAY OKAY IVE HAD THIS ROTATING IN MY HEAD FOR A HOT FUCKN MINUTE AND ILL TRY MY BEST TO EXPLAIN IT IN A WAY THAT MAKES SENSE

OKAY. LETS REWIND ALL THE WAY BACK TO OCTO EXPANSION!!!

so! octo expansion goes all normally, we have our agent 8 fighting through the entire structure to escape, agent 3 gets brainwashed, they have to fight, yadda yadda. you probably know how it goes by now. But here's the thing.

what if i went ahead and changed a tiny thing. just the teensiest detail.

what if instead of spamming splashdowns, tartar decides to use one big fuck off booyah bomb.

"but, didn't booyah bomb come out after octo expansion?"

yes. yes it did. and that's why i chose booyah bomb specifically.

tartar whipped out the idea to use a booyah bomb from some prototypes it found out about after abducting god-knows-who, and used it despite its unstable build. No one, at that moment, knew whatever that was, what it did, how dangerous it was, or anything of the sort. This was some sort of last hurrah, as it knew that this was its last shot at stopping this failure from escaping the facility. And so it exerted Agent 3 into giving it everything he's got. Quite literally, even! It pushed him so hard, he too became unstable while trying to mantain and boost the energy ball.

The Booyah Bomb is thrown with as much power as Tartar could muster out of that creature, pretty much covering most of the arena. Once the ink settles, and Agent 8 gathers his senses, he looks around. Agent 3 is nowhere to be seen.

at no point in canon is sanitized agent 3 properly splatted throughout the fight — you only break their shield, they superjump back to their platform, and you eventually knock them out. you never splat them. so who's to say that, just like agent 8 during the ascent, they don't have a respawn anchor?

That's what I decided to play with here. Agent 3 is splatted with no respawn anchor. Agent 3 is dead.

The rest of octo expansion plays as normal, only that there's no passed out Agent 3 waiting at the helicopter.

Starting from here, Agent 8 becomes affiliated with the NSS through Cuttlefish after breaking the news, feeling like he needs to make it up for the loss they suffered as he feels responsible for it. He grows closer with Agent 4, and eventually they become closer friends, even staying at her place after she invited him once their friendship was more developed. This paragraph is mostly to explain how they know each other and how their friendship started, also explaining why my Agent 8 gives OtH Agent 4's number instead of Cuttlefish.

Okay! Now, back to the point of this ask. I actually had a bit of this typed out in a server I'm in!

[Agent 4] didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming Captain, being the fifth longest-standing member of the NSS after craig, the squisters and agent 3. craig was retiring, the squid sisters were still busy with their inkopolis celebrity scene, and [Agent 3] was dead. so she was the next best option.

she didnt really ask for this in the first place, and yet she accepted out of hopes of being acknowledged. When she was just an agent, the rest of the team didn't keep in touch with her much (except for Agent 8) after the events of OE, and at one point even stopped being called for whenever Callie got the shades on again. Whenever she patrolled, she did it without any previous call, and was rarely acknowledged by the others. She still kept visiting the canyon whenever she could after everyone else had moved on.

even after becoming the "captain", the others didnt usually reach out to her for assistance, and instead tended to act on their own. they never really took her as captain, rarely listening to her. so obviously this whole mess made her feel like absolute dogshit, questioning why she even decided to go through with this.

that title was meant for [Agent 3]. not for her. he was the one that came before her, and was better than her in so many ways. at least that's what the others kept repeating around her.

as much of a punch in the gut being constantly compared to someone else was, she kept pushing to try and make herself known, separate from the other's achievements. which is why she ended up accepting marina's request.

[idontactuallywherepjs]

pt. 1

So. I started reading The Rangers Apprentice last night, and I only got up to chapter six i think (Will's just arrived at Halt's cottage for his first day of training and Halt remarks that at least he's on time and already had breakfast). And. I'm in love. Im buying the first three books today.

Anyways, assorted thoughts.

I really like the dynamic all of the wards have with each other. Like yeah these are kids who grew up together and love and get on each other's nerves in equal measure.

Will and Alyss being the only two who don't remember their parents is both heartbreaking and makes perfect sense in a weird way? I don't really know how to explain it but it just fits.

It also makes them confiding in each other about what craft their aiming for that much more impactful.

But it's also infinitely funnier to me that Alyss didn't look up. They've known each other their entire lives, literally, and she didn't. Look. Up. Comedy gold.

I just about cried at Will's reasoning for battleschool.

For whatever reason, Martin reminds me of a rat. I want to hit him with a frying pan. He's delightful.

I loved all the Craftmasters. Yeah their personalities and descriptions aren't groundbreaking or anything but they still seem neat.

Chubb's wooden ladle.

Jenny and Chubb's entire interaction. Him hitting her on the head. so great.

Will being able to feel Halt's eyes on him is so good. Like yeah! He's a natural! (I hope he falls on a face a few times while training but I love the detail that he was chosen because of his potential, not because he'll be perfect out the gait, and I like that his potential as a ranger is in obvious to him.

Will's pranks and mischief is so good. I love that detail. And the bunnies oh my gosh. I was laughing with Lady Pauline.

The second that paper was mentioned in knew what Will was going to do.

I did however think that the paper would be blank.

Will just causally doing. All of That. to get up the tower. Holy shit. Horrifying. scaling the wall especially.

I hope someone told the guard on duty what was happening right above his head i think his reaction would be funny.

My heart stopped when Halt grabbed Wills hand. Like I could tell it was coming there was no way he wasn't getting caught but i was still startled for some reason.

I hope nobody told the guards outside Baron Arald's office anything about what happened that night. Let them be confused.

Baron Arald is the funniest character so far and nobody laughs. "This time, use the stairs." Hilarious! that was so funny. poor guy is taken way to seriously i love him.

I really like the pacing so far. just something ive noticed. I takes it's time and lingers on certain scenes where other books would jump ahead. I like it.

I think ive forgotten how much i love this part of a story. it's the beginning. Ive just met the characters. I've got no idea what happens next. The plot hasn't really kicked off. The big bad is just in the distance. It's nice. It's relaxing. I love it.

[godza]

TELL ME BOUT KIM SOLEUM 🗣️🗣️

YAYYY MY LITTLE GUY!!!

first impression: loser. normal guy. just like me fr

current impression: what the fuck is wrong with him. deeply strange individual. my little freak

fave moment: when he cut his arm off <3 i love how soleum rationalizes his decisions to the reader and they make somewhat sense in the moment but then he does something fucking crazy that makes you go hold on. what? i love when hes a sneaky little freak bastard. also the entirety of the amusement park arc that was peak soleum blurring the lines of himself. also when he was breaking up with braun but it was all through chief lizard. made me giggle. also his cult leader and serial killer arcs. i love everything hes ever done hes so freaky

story idea: him not realizing other peoples opinioms of him but that happens in canon anyway. hes a little miffed by the monster rookie titles but i want him to start turning into a darkness (which he kind of already is) based on his reputation alone. return of the cat when. or something about his arm bc he glossed over that way too fast. why are you just okay with that!

unpopular opinion: man idk. most people are right about soleum its other characters i dont agree with people about. if i had to think about one i feel like ppl make him seem way too inferior to braun. they need each other i dont think its some poor sad bottom top dynamic i think they both get things from each other. not an equal power dynamic but not as bad as people make it seem. also i think saheon and soleum is a ridiculous ship why would you do that to soleum thats just mean

fave relationship: him and braun ofc <3 i love that funky little rabbit. i got so happy in 189ish when he came back for reals. im not fully up to date im on 190 ive heard brauns doing some shit but who am i to judge. to me braun feels like 'my wife is mad at me hope i die'. i love him so much idk why. tvhead yaoi. toxic terrible yaoi.

fave headcanon: ill mak these all up on the spot i havent seen these anywhere else. that his eyes now glow bc of contamination. a nice red bc of the cover. that he shows animal tendencies now. he needs a lot of salt bc hes a deer lol. i feel like even without the silver heart hes incredibly persuasive and can make most ppl do whatever. he started doing weird shit to creep saheon out but they became habits so now soleum does mildly weird shit like eating dinner foods for breakfast even when by himself. also that sometimes hes talking to braun and muttering out loud. made me giggle when he was holding braun to the whiteboard and had to explain. silly little guy. but braun appreciates the extra attention he likes to see soleum squirm a little. i still wanna know how braun was able to know what soleum was up to on the radio. it was probably the contamination fragment. i want soleum to accidentally use random fragments in wromg situations itd be funny. accidentally stops talking and just gestures bc hes in deer mode. you can make this guy do anything if you can make it sound logical

[purrpl-png]

What is your opinion on Beast x Ancient?

sighhh deep down i knew someday ill have to answer this question😞

i dont really like participating in ship discourses and it turned out a little longer than i thought, so im placing it undercut for those who are interested enough to read what i think

the answer is that its not for me. at least not in a romantic way. at least not for now. i was never really a fan of ships with complicated/toxic dynamics or hero x villain or rivals at all. for example, i never liked billford or tomtord or even sonadow and stuff like that. not that theyre entirely bad, its just not for me and gives me discomfort, because i was in toxic relationships myself and i just can't help but associate them with my personal experience. this includes beast x ancient and even some of the beast x beast too with the way i portay beasts characters in my mind, but its not about them

honestly, i am not really into shipping in general as i cant really understand or process the concept of shipping in my mind as a whole, if it makes sense. like i personally never truly understood the exact point of it nor felt the urge to ship. but i do understand that shipping plays a huge role in every fandom and its just how it is, people having fun, even if i am somewhere far away from all this. ofc i drew a couple of 'shipey' things out of pure joke or to play with some dynamics for fun (ex. my shadowbill animation and buttervelvet post), but never went any further than that. doesnt mean that i dont ship anything at all, trust me, i actually love some ships, but its not like HUGE for me and is very rare, it's just very difficult to explain exactly

dont get me wrong, id LIE if i said that i dont like to see beasts and ancients interact with each other. id lie if i said i dont enjoy the possibility of many interesting scenarios between them and an idea of slow redemption arcs either. all these parallels and tragic doomed soulmates stuff is SICK AF, i like their dynamics and contrasts between the characters. their bond is like a foundation of life itself; their virtues cannot exist without each other, no matter how much they like it or not and theyre complete opposites, but at the same time theres NO ONE whos is more similar to them than they are to each other. all of them are the only perfect match to confront each other and its such a peak cinema i wish more people didnt sleep on, because theres SO much you can do with it💔

unfortunately, i saw a lot of people romantize/fetishize very weird things iykwim... ive seen some HORRENDOUS bad terrible uncomfortable stuff i wish i didnt, that i clearly dont support and dont interact with :( it even made me block some of the tags. and while im still here, i want to remind that i have pr0ship in my dni, so if youre a pr0shipper reading this, please, unfollow/block me, because ive seen some interacting with my posts before😞

and just to add, of course i know that most of beast x ancient shippers dont do that, because some of my online AND irl friends i knew for YEARS and i sure know they wouldnt hurt a fly in their life and dont approve of such things at all either, liked beast x ancient, but i still prefer not to engage with it anyway just in case. lets just say i am extremely neutral/apathetic to everything unless its something bad and harmful

thank you for listening to my little yap session, i hope any of it made sense, i am not really much of a public talker honestly and interacting with any fandoms and people in it usually gives me some kind of anxiety and mixed feelings, because im struggling with comprehending peoples attention. its been like that for years and ongoing even now, but im really trying to open up a little as a person and not just a rando who usually drops their drawings once in a while and disappears until the next time lol

[vampyreelf]

Runaway

Request: hello! ive been having MAJOR house of wax/vincent brainrot....im wondering if you can do a vincent sinclair small fic? or something like that, im not used to fic terms,,,,,, it can be anything you want to write abt :3

A/N: Vincent Sinclair is so pookie, having brainrot about him is so valid and I totally get you, I hope you like it, let me know. 🫶

Summary: After suffering a mental breakdown, you decide to go on a road trip. You stumble upon a small town called Ambrose, and things escalate from there.

Vincent Sinclair x Reader

Warnings: just your run of the mill murder mentions, nothing much and dark undertones, this was low key fluffly.

GIF by @coppoladelrey

After you had a mental breakdown for being too overworked, you decided to go on a road trip so you can relax and just see new places. You avoided the highways because driving on those was extremely depressing so you were in country roads, now you were in Louisiana. It was hot and you were so thankful for your A/C being so powerful.

You decided to stop in a small town that you stumbled upon, it was around 1:00 PM and it was time to get more snacks and water, you parked your car in front of the small shop and you left the car. When you tried to enter the shop, it was locked. You found it odd since it was 24 hours, but you decided to wait to open again, you were in no rush so you decided to wait in your car.

Losing track of time playing games on your phone, you heard someone knocking at your window, you yelled and put your hand on your chest. You looked and you saw a man in a suit, you smiled tightly at him and left the car to be able to talk to him.

“You alright, sugar?” Bo thought it was extremely odd that not even Lester was able to see where you were coming from.

“Yeah, just passing by. I needed to buy some snacks for the journey, but it seems to be closed.” You pointed at the shop and Bo smiled at you.

“I think the owner had to leave for a few hours, you’re than welcomed to wait. But you shouldn’t in the car, come on I’ll walk you around the city, we have a wax museum that’s really cool. I’m Bo, by the way.” He raised his hand for you to shake and you did, you also introduced yourself.

The two of you walked towards the museum, and Bo kept asking questions such as why you were travelling, where you were heading and why you were by yourself. You didn't like the fact that he was almost interrogating you but you tried to keep your answers to a minimum. You weren’t to divulge the state of your mental health for this trip to be possible, you didn't resent Bo, you simply blamed it on southern hospitality so you remained pleasant and polite.

“Here we are, I have the keys to it so I can show you around.” Bo opened the door and allowed you to enter before him and he started telling the story about the museum. “Trudy was the woman that started it all, she had great talent we try to keep her legacy alive.” You looked at the the wax figures and they’re amazing, you’ve never seen anything like this before.

“It’s beautiful, who’s the current artist?” You asked whilst still looking at the statues, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life before.

“His name is Vincent.” Bo informed you, he was watching you admiring Vincent’s work with genuine wonder and that made him smile.

“I’d love to meet him.” That was the only outcome for you, meeting the genius behind these sculptures, you felt a connection with him even though you have no idea who he is.

“He’s, well how do you say it? A recluse?” Bo explained to you and the way you deflated made his heart clench, why was he so affected by your sadness? He already looked at you with this sense of protection, he didn't want to kill you, it was strange.

“That’s a pity, it would be great to meet him.” You looked so sad, and Bo couldn’t have that. Vincent would kill him but if it was a bad idea Vincent was going to kill you anyway.

“Well, he lives down here. You can try to talk to him, can’t make any promises though.” Bo showed you the way and so you did, it was dark and you could tell that candles were lit.

Vincent was freaking out, why would Bo do this? Vincent didn't want to kill you at all, and you seemed very interested in his art. Ever since you and Bo entered the museum, Vincent was admiring you and he wanted to make you his muse.

“Hello? Vincent? I was looking at your art and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’d love to meet you if you want.” The hope in your voice was the most amazing thing for Vincent, you were so respectful and you loved his art Vincent’s heart was skipping a beat, he wanted to get to know you but you would scream and run away as soon as you saw him. “I hope you can hear me, your art is amazing.” Vincent took a deep breath and showed in your field of vision and he couldn’t even look up to your face of disgust.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you, Bo said that you were more of an introvert so it’s an honour.” You got close to him and raised your hand to shake Vincent’s, he reluctantly raised his and looked at you and you had the biggest smile Vincent has ever seen. He didn't say anything and you assumed that he was a man of few words. “Well, I think that I should leave you be. You’re probably very busy and I didn't mean to intrude, so I should get going.” Vincent started panicking, he didn't want you to leave.

Vincent grabbed your arm and guided you to one of his almost finished figure, you were admiring Vincent’s work and he was admiring you, your eyes, your cheeks, your complexion. He didn't want you to leave, and he didn't want you to die, he needed you.

“That’s amazing, Vincent. Thank you for showing me this.” You put your hand in his arm and smiled at him warmly, you couldn’t deny that his shy nature drew you in. You wanted to learn more about him, maybe you could stay a bit longer in this town. Vincent nodded and in a bold move, he put his hand on top of yours. “I hope that you can say yes, but totally alright if you don’t…would you like to go out for a cup of coffee with me?” You internally cringed with how awkward you were but Vincent couldn’t help but love it. He nodded and he was glad he did, because he was able to see the biggest smile he has ever seen.

“Great, well I better find a hotel. Do you know any?” Vincent nodded his head, he would need Bo’s help to keep you here. He doesn’t want you to leave.

You’re his, his muse, forever.

Bo already got your car broken when he didn't hear any screams he realised that Vincent didn't want you to leave, at all. Meanwhile, you and Vincent were spending this time contemplating art and talking about it, you were so excited where this was taking you, and Vincent already knew that you weren’t leaving at all.

[adrealucia]

so i was wondering if you could do a sean oneshot where reader and him are in a relationship prior to the accident, and yk when it happens and sean goes awol she kind of has the same reaction as lyla does with the no sleeping and stuff like that (maybe worse bc the lohl is the prime suspect of a murder😭) and basically they only come in contact a few times before sean and daniel make it to mexico (blood brothers ending) where they can finally speak freely and after reader finally graduates she immediately books a plane to see him,, probably doesnt even tell him tbh just shows up in puerto lobos and looks for them on her own. then when she finds the garage she knocks on the door and daniel answers and then like a big reuniting scene and woww happy ending the gangs back together yahoo!! pls ive had this idea for a while its kind of badly explained but tysm for reading, and no pressure!! take ur time and have a wonderful day/night🩷✨

i know i am like super super late with all my reqs, but I hope you might still enjoy this :) ly <3

sfw/ gender neutral

Back to you

The days after the accident felt like a blur, each one dragging longer than the last. Time had stopped. It was as if the world had continued moving, but you were stuck in a loop, forever caught in the aftermath. you could still hear the sirens in my mind, still feel the rush of panic that hit you the moment you saw Sean’s face on the news.

Sean Diaz, prime suspect in murder of local officer.

you couldn’t even breathe. How could they say that about him? The boy you loved—who had been nothing but kind, nothing but genuine. Murder? No. No, it couldn’t be true. But still, there was no sign of Sean. No calls. No texts. Just a haunting silence that made your chest ache in ways you didn’t think possible.

you couldn’t sleep. Not really. Not without hearing his voice in your head, begging you to wait for him, telling you everything would be okay. But how could you wait when everything felt like it was falling apart? How could you pretend that everything was fine when it was so obviously not?

Lyla tried. She tried to help, to make you talk, but you couldn’t. There was nothing to say. The world felt so far away, as if everyone else was living a life you no longer belonged to. Your thoughts spiraled, and all you could do was replay the last few conversations in your head, trying to find something, anything, that might tell you where Sean had gone. Where you had gone wrong. But there was nothing.

Then the letter came.

One line. One sentence.

I’m safe. Meet me in Puerto Lobos.

That was it. No explanation. No reason for what had happened, just those words. You barely processed them before booking your flight. You didn’t think about what you were doing, or why. All you knew was that you couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t stay in this place without Sean, without knowing what had really happened.

The days leading up to your graduation were a blur. You could barely remember walking across the stage, your head still reeling from the letter, from the hope and the fear that twisted together in your chest. You didn’t want to celebrate. You didn’t care about anything else.

When you arrived in Puerto Lobos, the air was thick with humidity, and the salty scent of the ocean filled your senses. The streets were quiet, isolated in a way that made your heart beat faster. The small town seemed like the kind of place people could disappear into—and you feared Sean had done just that.

You didn’t know what to expect. You only had the address from the letter—Calle del Mar, No. 7. You hadn’t stopped to think about what you'd do if you didn’t find him. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might not be here.

But as you walked down the streets, the weight of every step pressing against your chest, something shifted inside of you. The address led you to a small, forgotten-looking garage, the metal door rusted and aged. There was no sign of life, nothing to indicate this was the place you were looking for. Your heart raced, every instinct telling you to turn back, to give up.

But you couldn’t. Not when you were so close.

You knocked. Once. Twice.

The door creaked open.

Daniel. His face was just as you remembered—stoic, unreadable, but something in his eyes shifted when he saw you. His gaze lingered for a moment, like he was deciding whether to let you in.

“You’re looking for Sean,” he said, his voice low, like he already knew why you were here.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Where is he? Please, I need to see him.”

Daniel stepped aside, not saying a word. Your breath caught in your throat as you walked past him, your feet moving faster than you intended, as though the closer you got to Sean, the more you could breathe.

And then you saw him.

He was sitting there in the dim light, his back to you, almost a shadow in the room. Your heart stopped, your feet rooted to the ground as you took in the sight of him.

Sean.

You couldn’t believe it. He was real. He was here.

You barely registered moving toward him, your legs shaking with the weight of it all. The tension in your body snapped when he finally turned around.

His eyes met yours. For a moment, he just stared, like he couldn’t believe you were actually there. His expression was unreadable, but then, when he spoke, you could hear the crack in his voice.

“Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. All you could do was step closer to him, reaching for him, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

And then you were in his arms, holding him so tightly you thought you might break him, like if you let go for even a second, he might disappear again. He was warm. He was real.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding you close, his hands trembling against your back. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your voice small. “I never stopped looking for you. I never gave up.”

You stood there for a long moment, tangled in each other, as if the world had stopped just for you. All the questions, all the uncertainty—everything you had carried with you in the time since the accident—seemed to fade away.

The gang was back together. And this time, you weren’t letting go.

authors note: I haven't written a sean drabble in forever, so I hope this still lives up to your expectations! I am currently working through all the reqs In my inbox, so please be a little bit more patient with me, thank you again for all your support and kind words <3

[oldiesstationlover11607]

YOU WRITE FOR WATERPARKS NOW????!!

may i pleaseeee ask for an awsten fic where reader is geoff or otto's sister and they dont really get along but when awsten goes out somewhere and gets into a fight while theyre traveling (theyre staying at a hotel) he goes to readers room and she takes care of his injuries and they make out up and end up sharing a bed. maybe could turn into a secret dating thing but yeah.. hope this makes sense <3

ps. happy early/late birthday (depending on when you read this)

pps i will aboslutely FILL you inbox with parx requests. ive been foaming at the mouth for them. youre an angel !!! 🍊

Secrets - Awsten Knight x Geoff's sister!reader

Word Count: 1552

A/N: Sorry this took so long! please request more awsten pleaseeee bc i love waterparks hehe

I never thought I’d find myself in this situation. It was past midnight, the hotel hallway was eerily quiet, and Awsten, of all people, stood at my door with a split lip, bruised knuckles, and a sheepish look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice low but sharp enough to cut through his usual bravado.

“Good evening to you too,” he quipped, his words slurring slightly as if he’d been chewing on them before spitting them out. “Can I come in?”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Not until you explain why you look like you lost a fight with a garbage truck.”

Awsten’s hand went to his lip, dabbing at the dried blood as if he’d only just noticed it was there. “Some guy at the bar was being a jackass,” he muttered. “Said some stuff, shoved me. So, I… shoved him back.”

“And then?” I pressed, raising a skeptical brow.

“And then he punched me.”

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. This wasn’t exactly out of character for Awsten, but it didn’t make it any less ridiculous. “You couldn’t go to Geoff? Or Otto? Why are you at my door?”

“Geoff’s asleep. Otto’s…” He gestured vaguely, like Otto’s absence was a problem too complicated to explain. “And, I don’t know, okay? You were just the first person I thought of.”

That surprised me more than it should have. Awsten and I weren’t exactly close. Sure, I was Geoff’s sister, and we saw each other plenty whenever I tagged along on tours, but our relationship mostly consisted of bickering, sarcastic jabs, and the occasional begrudging truce.

“Fine,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “But if you bleed on anything, I’m sending you the cleaning bill.”

“Noted,” he said, brushing past me into the small hotel room.

The room was cramped, with barely enough space for the bed, a tiny desk, and a chair shoved awkwardly into the corner. Awsten collapsed onto the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh, cradling his injured hand like a war hero nursing a battle wound.

I grabbed the first-aid kit from my suitcase, setting it on the nightstand. “Stay still,” I ordered, pulling out a cotton pad and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Yes, doctor,” he said with a smirk, though it faded the moment I pressed the cotton to his lip.

“God, that stings,” he hissed, jerking away.

“Stop being a baby,” I said, grabbing his chin to hold him still. Up close, I could see the faint shadow of a bruise blooming along his cheekbone. His eyes—usually sharp and mischievous—were softer now, a hint of vulnerability peeking through.

“What happened to the guy who hit you?” I asked, dabbing at the cut.

“Got kicked out,” Awsten muttered. “But not before landing a solid punch. Lucky me.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “You really are a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

He grinned, even as I pressed a fresh pad to his lip. “What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”

“Charm isn’t the word I’d use,” I muttered, though I couldn’t entirely suppress a smile.

We fell into a rhythm after that—me cleaning up his injuries, him cracking jokes to fill the silence. Despite my annoyance, there was something oddly comforting about the banter. It was familiar, easy in a way I didn’t expect.

“There,” I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “You’re semi-presentable again.”

“Thanks,” he said, flexing his fingers experimentally. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’ve had practice,” I said. “Geoff isn’t exactly a stranger to dumb injuries.”

Awsten chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Guess it runs in the family, huh?”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, he shifted awkwardly on the bed. “Uh… actually, can I crash here? Just for tonight?”

I blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“I just… I really don’t want to run into that guy again,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And, I don’t know, it feels safer here.”

The vulnerability in his tone was unexpected, almost disarming. I hesitated, my instinct to say no warring with a pang of sympathy. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed.”

“Deal,” he said, already kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the mattress like he owned the place.

I shook my head, climbing in on the opposite side and pulling the blanket over myself. “No funny business, Knight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though there was a teasing lilt to his voice that made me wonder if he was lying.

I woke up to warmth.

At some point in the night, Awsten had shifted closer. His arm draped over my waist, his face nestled against my shoulder. My first instinct was to shove him off, but… I didn’t. There was something oddly comforting about the weight of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing against my back.

“Awsten,” I whispered, my voice groggy.

He stirred, mumbling something incoherent before his eyes fluttered open. When he realized where he was, his face went red, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Don’t start,” I said, though my cheeks burned.

“Too late.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his grin softening as his eyes met mine. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, but there was no bite to my words.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze flicked to my lips, and before I could overthink it, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, tentative, like he was waiting for me to shove him away. But I didn’t.

When we pulled apart, his grin was back, full force this time. “So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, though I couldn’t hide my smile.

That should have been the end of it. A one-time thing, a weird blip in the universe that we’d both laugh about later. But it wasn’t.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur of stolen moments. Glances that lingered too long, hands brushing when no one was looking, whispered conversations in dark corners. It was maddening, infuriating, and completely intoxicating.

We didn’t tell anyone—not Geoff, not Otto, not anyone on the crew. Part of me liked the secrecy, the thrill of sneaking around. But another part of me knew it wasn’t sustainable.

One night, a week before the tour ended, Awsten showed up at my door again.

“This is becoming a habit,” I said, though I stepped aside to let him in.

“Can’t help it,” he said, grinning as he plopped onto the bed. “You’re just so beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart did a little flip anyway. “What do you want, Awsten?”

He hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. “I wanted to see you.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten. I sat down beside him, the bed dipping under our weight. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just… scared.”

“Of what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between us. “Whatever this is. It’s… different.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to agree, to admit that I was scared too. But another part of me—the part that had grown used to keeping people at arm’s length—wanted to push him away.

“I get it,” I said finally. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be so scary.”

Awsten looked at me, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give him. Then, without a word, he kissed me. This time, there was no hesitation, no waiting for permission. It was messy and desperate and perfect.

When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “You know this is gonna get complicated, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But maybe it’s worth it.”

The tour ended, and life went back to normal—well, as normal as it could be when you were secretly dating your brother’s bandmate.

Awsten and I fell into a rhythm, sneaking around whenever we could. It wasn’t easy, especially with Geoff constantly hovering, but somehow, we made it work.

One night, as we lay tangled in each other’s arms, Awsten turned to me, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “We should tell him,” he said.

“Who?”

“Geoff,” he said. “I mean, he’s gonna find out eventually, right? Might as well rip the band-aid off.”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting into knots. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

Awsten shrugged. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to keep hiding, either.”

I sighed, resting my head against his chest. “Let’s wait a little longer. Just until things settle down.”

He nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. “Okay. But promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t let this be a secret forever,” he said, his voice soft. “I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding you.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I promise,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I believed it myself.

For now, the secret was ours. And for now, that was enough.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[the5thcellar]

I actually think Luke is serious about A. That age gap is typically what men marry these days. I think he's crazy about her and was taking it slow after a long term break up before going official. That shows intention, planning, and wanting her. I wouldn't be surprised the official IG couple post is coming soon.

I'm just upset that they took it this far with promo. Tom and Z were meeting each other's family outside of work early on, so to say you are officially brining him to meet the fame was a bit much. Closing your eyes when she touches your face? Grade A acting. I hate that it makes me believe he was never attracted to an amazing woman like Nicola. I feel dumb for falling for it all. I hope Nicola finds a handsome guy who will love her proudly.

that's a really interesting take tbh! ive actually never considered he was serious about her in the sense of marrying - but of course this is purely based off the vibes I get and is entirely my own view.

one of the reasons i say this is because luke doesn't seem too inclined to keep a completely friendly distance between himself and nic - i heard that the QC leads india and corey were shipped really hard by fans as well and he had a gf during the whole press run - and towards the end india and corey started posing separately on carpets (i.e. no touching, no friendly hand around shoulder even during photos etc) because they wanted to emphasise that they were really just friends.

luke in contrast seems to have no qualms about blurring lines - and one of the reasons the more rabid fans kept insulting Antonia was a direct result of the fact that he kept stating his "single" status to press. I think he could have helped Antonia avoid a lot of the flak she drew by just stating that he's seeing someone. but maybe he felt it would draw even more attention to his private life and her? idk. i don't want to puzzle over his motivations because I don't believe they are too complex - I've said this many times before and I'll keep saying it - no matter how good a man seems (and I do believe Luke is very good and sweet), trying to justify anything they do is still a sure path to disappointment.

more importantly: please don't feel dumb for falling for the hope that nic and luke could be together! i really don't think they were being deliberately disingenuous - i actually think the opposite - i think they themselves are often confused about what they really are and it's just easier to define it as being great friends. it's strange but i get the feeling that they see each other as a source of potential - it's simultaneously impossible and also the easiest thing in the world for them to envision a reality where they're together - there just seems to be many barriers to it happening for real. they're comfortable living in the liminal space between great friendship and great romantic love - it definitely explains why nic said she doesn't have a relationship in her life that's anything close to what she has with luke. I think there just needs to be a decisive push for them to ever move out of this grey area. it'll have to be something massive for it to ever happen... and it's not something I hold out hope for (again, just to avoid disappointment!)

this got really long; I wish nic and luke all the best and I think they have something very special with each other. I think life has many many stops along the way and I don't think luke has found a final stop in his romantic journey with antonia - they are both very young and they don't have the vibe of "together forever" couples - if they did (since luke is such a big believer in love at first sight) - he'd have laid down a commitment a lot sooner.

again I want to emphasise that this is all MY POV - it's the vibe I get. I'm WELL AWARE I don't know these people irl. There's always criticism of how parasocial fandom and stan behaviour are but I think most fans - myself included - are very conscious of the fact that the way we perceive and interact with celebs is completely one sided. I'm also not a psychic or clairvoyant or anything of the sort. i just strangely feel a lot of things all the time and ive never been chill a day in my life 😂

sending you lots of good feelings and healing - I feel your hurt and unease and disappointment because I feel the same, but it gets easier to accept with each day that passes.

[linadove]

thoughts

the past three days ive been trying to be more in the "now" and it made me realize how much its important to detach from this reality, of course i know its "common information" in shifting.. but you cant sit here and tell me that "all you gotta do is have intention to shift" which is definitely a thing, shifting is what you make it out to be, but when you disconnect from the reality you are in its easier to feel like you're not stuck anymore, you can be anything you want and be ready to shift, i feel that when you do detach from your OR its easy to focus on what you want because you're in such a meditated state where you detach completely to who you are here. while i was in the car today i thought to myself how a lot of cancer patients are mostly known by friends, family, co-workers, strangers, etc., that they're cancer patients and yeah that's horrible that some people actually do think mostly on that part on someone's life, but what I'm trying to get to is when that cancer patient has that name following itself "cancer patient" that person would feel like that's all that they are, that, that word is what defines them, but once they take off that "suit" (meaning getting out of their body spiritually) they realize they're not who they have perceived to be but much more (and sometimes realize that they don't know who they are anymore because they don't resonate with the person they were, because they were so caught up in that title it being the only thing they are),

i do want to apologize if this is a bad analogy to what I'm trying to say, its just that it made sense to me this way,

so in conclusion- no matter how much you identify yourself with a certain doubt/thought, it was never you in the first place and it will never truly be who you are, disconnect to who you are and find what it is that makes you happy in experience, dont let doubts stop you, because you letting it stop you, is stopping you, acknowledge the thought and move on, no matter how much you hate your reality it still do not mean you cannot shift because you dont like it, those thoughts are still not what you are no matter what you say, it is not you. go and be free in the multiverse, discover things you never thought imaginable, detach and let go, the best way to ever let go is to let go of who you were in your OR in the moment of attempting to shift (i am also not saying to completely get rid of who you are in this reality.. just detach when you want to) so practice downing detachment

i hope this makes sense, im not good with explaining things, i sound stupid when i do, but happy shifting guys and good luck on your next attempt <3

<3

[aidlyncanon]

this is my first actual tumblr post since idk what to do but ive had this idea in my head for a while and I wanted to share 🤗

so heres what I think each sbg characters love languages are. I wanted to include both the love language they express towards other and the type that resonates? with them when expressed by others. i dont know how to word that but I hope itll make sense 🙏

if it's inaccurate im sorry im not great at wording but i did try and make it at least a bit accurate which is hard when im unsure to most of these

𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄/𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄?

— I feel like this may be the only one that properly fits Ashlyn. I could see her maybe also liking acts of service but i cant exactly explain why.

Maybe its because I think its also what she would do for others that I think it would fit. Like I said maybe acts of service like people doing little things to make her life easier.

I have a headcanon that Taylor or Ben has things in their bags for the others (total mom friends) so imagine her shock when she found out someone had ear plugs in their bag incase she needed them?

you get where im going with this?

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

— I take little to no criticism on this. I can't imagine Ashlyn's being anything else. If she tried getting a gift she'd probably take too long wondering if theyd actually use it. Physical touch is a meh, she doesnt hate it but it wouldnt be her favourite. She said herself she isnt the best with words.

Her gift to people is just her presence. She'd be the type to occasionally need quiet but wouldn't mind being in comfortable silence with someone she likes. I feel like quality time would be her way of showing she cares for someone.

𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: ???

— This is an idk because im basing these off of what we know about their background and character but we know like nothing so everything about this is based off of pure theory.

The only canon part i can mention is that during his conversation with Ashlyn at the school he mentioned how since he moved around a lot he never really had a true bond with anyone.

"You seemed like the type to only get close with people who mean something to you."

So Aiden didnt just want someone he could feel attached to, he also wanted to feel cared for. Its a two way street with him.

While I could see him loving physical touch as I doubt he got enough of that as a child and he clearly loves being touchy with people I feel like with what we know I could argue really any love language. He'd probably take anything if it makes him feel cared for.

I found a picture of a chart saying "your love language may show what you lacked as a child" and he checked every box so he's fucked.

I ultimately want to settle with physical touch as he seemed shocked when Ashlyn initiated the hug likely due to being the one to always initiate them. Like above he probably just wants his efforts reciprocated.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

— Self explanatory we see him being touchy with Ashlyn. He also put his hand on Tyler (idk if this is still fast pass if it is my apologies).

"he did that as a stay away from my girl" stfu. 🤗

𝐁𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— I take ZERO criticism on this.

Were all aware how bad his bullying was so I doubt he heard anything nice about him.

The main thing that makes me believe this is that every time he gets complimented or something nice said about him he gets sort of flustered and blushes.

This ^ was ben after Ashlyn complimented his bandaging job. A small compliment I know but even after what taylor said about him opening up he blushed there too.

You can't deny it means a lot to him he probably thought about those for a while.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

— I talked about this in a discord server briefly but I want to share it here. You know the quote "the quieter you are the more you hear"? Well thinking of that ive come up w the idea that Ben likely is more observant compared to most people.

Hed be the one to notice if someone was looking at something for a while in a store or hear it pass in conversation. Make a mental or physical note of it and get it for them.

I just imagine him being the type to be like "i know you like this" or "this reminded me of you". I feel like he wouldnt be the greatest at expressing it in many other ways so he resorts to getting people things.

Hes also pretty artsy so I can also just imagine him making people little things for them.

Like, tyler taught him guitar? gets tyler a new pick. Logan looking at something in the store? need to remember that. and so on

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— Similar to Ben's. I could maybe see quality time being important to him as he hasnt had many people want to stick around him.

I mean his parents didnt want him and barrons group are just assholes so spending time with someone who genuinely cares for him? Doing an activity he enjoys? Hes over the moon.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

— I can see him wanting to help people, i mean he helped Noah (the guy who barron replaced him with). I can imagine him doing little things for the group and people he loves.

He might get a bit embarrassed if confronted about it but ultimately hed do it again.

𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄???

— This is up in the air but I feel like it fit her the best? I imagine after her dad dying at a young age she grew up knowing that time with people is limited and can end at any moment.

So i can imagine her really appreciating someone spending one-on-one of just personal time with her. But i can also just see her appreciating any type.

My thing is I can imagine her being happy with receiving anything as long as someone had her best interest at heart then she'd become the happiest girl ever.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— Another give in, she does it ALL THE TIME. Its literally her defining feature. Shes very good with words and likes making others feel better about themselves. Seeing people perk up from her words would be enough to make her own day better.

I imagine she too, like tyler, had to be there for her mom a lot. So she probably learnt it from that experience. I also imagine her want to make people happier stemmed from seeing Tyler slowly lose interest in everything around him and wanting to be able to be the person who could make his day just a bit better.

Though like above I could see taylor doing things she knows mean the most of others. Like the moment she realized Ben likes words of affirmations she made sure to compliment him a bit more. After realizing Ashlyn likes quality time she would find a way to do that while also not overwhelming Ashlyn, say a movie or just going on a walk. Shed make an effort to make people happy based off of what they love the most.

𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

— Tyler spent his entire childhood taking care of people so imagine how he would react to being taken care of for once.

I figure like at first hed be a bit reluctant however I think ultimately it would mean a lot to him to not have to always be rhe one taking care of others but being able to rest for once.

Like idk how to word it but I think it fits him, I could also see MAYBE words of affirmation? since he did want that when Logan Ashlyn and Ben found him but then again I dont blame him he was literally sitting bleeding.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄?

— This one has a question mark since im not sure. Taking care of others has just became nature to him, its his factory settings. Its not something he like goes and does to get people interested its just natural to him.

I dont think its something he'd do specifically to express care, he'd likely be unaware how much it could mean to someone since its just life to him.

Im not too sure what his would actually be MAYBE quality time again similar to Taylors in the sense that he knows just how fast someone can lose their lives so he likely would appreciate someone wanting to actually spend time with him.

Even if he wouldnt admit it.

If these are inaccurate then I apologize I did try to make them as accurate as I could but wording my thoughts isnt something i'm great at.

Most of these im unsure of but I wanted to talk about anyway so idk gimme ur opinions on them id love to hear them esp since im unsure for half of these :)

[cgtg]

godtier responses i've gotten in my inbox for the polls

copy-pasting em all here 4 posting convenience. we got prince of rage, witch of blood, maid of doom, seer of light, & a dual prince of light/knight of void.

i've broken em up a bit for readability, hope the ppl who sent em in don't mind. also responded to em cus i felt like it

click the dealy if u like seeing ppl ramble at length abt their personal relationship w/ their chosen classpect. yours forever&ever randy

anonymous:

rubbin my hands together like a little fly rn love character stuff and analysis stuff I’m a prince of rage let me explain while I was reading homstuck in that time of my life I was stuck in a situation where I couldn’t really get away with being mad about how I was being treated and I internalized that a lot and ended up being pretty like forcefully numb sort of like toxic positivity but more numbness then positivity and I’d shy away from anything or anyone to aggressive I’d definitely slip up and lash out so id like associate that time in my life with Homestuck cause that’s one of the things that got my through that time and as I read I worked through a lot I let myself express negative emotion like outwardly without blaming myself for it and I learned like a little ego is good that’s just self esteem and when I express stuff I lash out and blow up less and talking makes me feel better now I’m pretty damn good at deesclation learned how to control my environment better and I’m safer cause of it not totally out of the woods yet but definitely doing better much smarter about braving it out so I feel like there’s definitely the sense of princes almost destroying themselves by trying to remove my aspect rage from myself by controlling how I reacted cause I had to and then blowing up but then I learned how to express my emotions while still deescalting so I could stay safe even in rough spots and also communicate without getting aggressive cause my issue was I was good at talking and smart and I picked up on stuff but I’d get stop defensive when I talked it was aggressive and offputting so no one listened when I called stuff out(mainly old old shitty teachers shitty parents when I was still in school) but I got it now I can manage my tone while still being honest and call stuff out also I reported all those guys so it’s all good now so now it’s gone from suppressing things to blowing up to learning how to rebel and report in a smart way when and how to talk and put up a fight and how to manage my emotions and have support systems so thing don’t go sideways I’m in therapy and dude the other day my buddy said I was always the dude back in highschool who was like legit moral like I knew what was up when adults and people were being dicks I actually got praise for it it felt nice cause I always felt like a mess lashing out and I was but at least I sort of had the right idea just needed to flesh it out lol anyway dude I like the godtier polls and the analyzes and stuff this blog is cool take care also I like the outfit for the most part but the poofy asshole prince pants dont fit the vibe for me and I hate the fact I’d be stuck in tights NOT wearing those dude uncomfortable af I would not be able to I don’t like the feeling of tights bro

rage is such a cool aspect bro. it's one i admire a lot conceptually. thank u for sharing ur perspective it was fun 2 read thru. take care urself

anonymous:

witch of blood here ✌️ (i suppose anyway... not to be pedantic but i have a hard time w the idea of classpects for real people bc i view it as a character arc analysis and real ppl dont have character arcs. but i digress i did pick this for a reason) ive toyed with several different aspects throughout the years but blood is the one resonating w me atm, i feel as though i have a strong understanding of like. how people connect to and interact with one another, and in my friend group right now i am definitely the one who brought them all together and keeps us all in touch, like i literally host the hangouts every week lmao. i deliberated w a few different classes but ultimately went w witch because i feel like my relationship with my aspect is very hands on and generally speaking within my control, but also something i had to put a lot of definite effort into learning. im lowkey autistic so interacting w people doesnt come naturally to me, but its something i spent a lot of time learning how to do better, so i feel as though i have a unique approach to it but ultimately can control things in a way that feels v witchy to me. if that makes any sense lmao. also im realizing this could imply that im manipulating my friends or smth and thats not what i mean LOL i just mean that i used to feel that it was completely out of my control how my friendships and relationships went and they often spiralled badly to places i didnt like but now i have a better understanding of ppl and friends in general and can use that knowledge to maintain good strong friendships. i love my friends ❤️🩸

hahah i dont think it reads as manipulation, & anyways manipulating is a neutral act. ur technically manipulating ppl just by talking to em, yk? anyways, this was a cool read. i also deliberated a lot before picking witch 4 myself. witches kick ass.

anonymous:

maid 9f doom here. im not really good at classpecting, I'm not even sure this is what truly suits me but I like to view classpects as my personal journey and it's hard to imagine what maid of doom really means to create with doom, when doom itself is destruction. my journey as a person was always to listen and do what I was told and I was miserable and I still struggle to find my own right in this miserable wrong world. ive been tossed from person to place and told to do everything right and i have this overbearing need to do what is right. But more often than not when I find myself struggling to break free from it all that's exactly what I need to do. break it all, all my personal connections, my stability, my life, when I am at my lowest I burn down all that was once good that I now see was holding me back and truly start anew in my own way. sometimes you need to light a fire before you can start to see new life. this is all probably terribly cringe and oversharing in a way, and I'm not even sure if it makes any sense? oh well.

i think this makes a lot of sense B] u got a cool worldview there & i defo agree w it. thank u for sharing it, it's rly cool to see how ppl who choose doom view their life hahah.

anonymous:

reporting from the light poll! i'm a seer of light, and while we can find plenty of canon content for such a character, here's my opinion on it: 'light' as a class imho is about fortune, luck, knowledge, and relevance. i could point to about a million things in canon about that, but to simplify, these are all things that rose, vriska, and aranea, our canon light players, center themselves around in varying proportions. i also think that light players tend to have an association with pathways or courses of action, and have a good idea of their own path, whatever it may be. rose has a plan, vriska has plans to spare, aranea has plans. i choose light because, one, every quiz ever made tends to give me light, and two, i feel that set of characteristics fits me well. i have a plan, but it's not set in stone - i'm constantly looking for things that might divert its course. for seers, on the other hand, we have rose, terezi, and kankri, and a solid amount of information on all of them. seers are mostly regarded as a passive class, which i find interesting, because rose and terezi play extremely active roles in canon, and kankri as well to an extent. my thoughts on this are that while seers actively pursue knowledge of their aspect, the way they utilize the knowledge is passive - passing it onto their sessionmates to do with as they will, more often than not. a seer rarely directly intervenes, and instead seeks understanding of their aspect and tries to foster something of that understanding in those around them. i chose seer for myself because i have a very 'everyone else's choices are their own, but i want to have all the information i can' attitude towards life. i'll tell anyone things that i see and may be relevant to them, but it's on them to make their own choices after that. i'm obsessive in my pursuit of everything that i crave knowledge of, from hobbies to my profession to the world around me. alright, that's enough of a wall of text. yes i've been called a rose kinnie, and that's fine, i too am a goth lesbian, so how could i complain? thanks for running these polls, they're incredibly interesting! have a wonderful (whatever time it is for you) :)

this is a rly well thought-out one. it always bugged me that seers r relegated to being so passive when the sufferer, terezi, & rose were doing all their sick shit. i think i saw someone say, somewheres, that seers are "punished by the narrative" for trying to be active? as in they cosmically shouldn't have been? hah... seers rule

thanx for the kind words btw, glad other ppl r getting mileage out of this. take care hope ur well B]

@ausgoth:

i get to have 2 classpects because im built different. prince of light and knight of void sit around in my head and beat each other up all day. probably to be expected by someone with 2 classpects, i used to super heavily identify with the heart aspect. i went through a bunch of different classes while the comic was updating when i was vibing with heart. i still enjoy and identify with the heart aspect to an extent but having 2 distinct classpects is much more accurate for me personally.

hell yeah dual classpectorz. i luv it. dual classpectors have my sword. i also i guess dual classpect, but i never rlly understood the heart aspect @ all until rlly recently. wonder how many others relate to u or myself here. for me anyways, i just see space & breath as very interrelated concepts & the way they overlap is rlly specifically relevant in my life, yk? fun stuff :J

thank u guys for all the cool replies, hope others had fun reading em like i did & take care

[waddingham]

20 Questions for (Fanfiction) Writers

hihi sage :) @broadwayfreak5357 thanks for tagging me 🥰

1. How many fics do you have on ao3?

50

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

744,207

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

leg fic 💀

wildflowers (which has slowly crept up this far? somehow?)

two sweethearts and the summer wind :)

it's a symptom of your touch (it makes me so happy this is still top 5 lol)

someday 🥺

4. What fandoms do you write for?

actively right now, just ted lasso. but i've written for schitt's creek, twin peaks, and written for but never shared x-files

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

listen. i'm just a severely antisocial girl, staring at almost 4,000 comments, wishing LIKE HELL i could be that person 😭 i did originally on my first tl fic and i so badly wanted to keep going because i am SO grateful for every comment and reader I get, but now I'm so behind I genuinely wouldn't know where to start

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm. i don't do angsty endings really. maybe in the cracks of light just bc i was talking about it with a friend once and they said they genuinely didn't know which section was truly the dream section and i'm obsessed with that idea.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably someday? I don't know. i end most of my fics in a happy place. or at least a hopeful one.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thankfully. i don't mind criticism but hate would piss me off

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, i do. the sexy kind.

10. Do you write crossovers?

no. they don't hold much interest for me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, but i had a joke from one of my early fics stolen which is honestly just funny lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no. that sounds so stressful fldndkdnd

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

it's gotta be mulder and scully. the way they ate my brain up for years on end......the way I read quite literally EVERY fic on gossamer.....most timeless ship on the planet

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh the western au. rest in peace my beloved </3

16. What are your writing strengths?

ive been told i write really gutteral emotions in a way that comes across very strongly. unfortunately i don't really know how I do that but I'm very glad people feel it when they read certain stories of mine.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i can be too heavy handed and overwrite things. in my more recent wips, I've gotten a lot better at showing instead of telling and trusting the reader to understand the nuances rather than explain them. also if I overthink a plot, or the order of scenes, it literally all falls apart. if I do anything but flow along from one scene to the next, I can't put the story back together. (again — rip western au)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I don't know why I'd have thoughts on this. if it makes sense, go for it. I've done it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

x-files, but as far as posted fic, it's some twin peaks ficlets that you could not pay me to reread, but i can't bring myself to orphan lol

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

this is a hard question because in terms of how the final product came out, it's probably a song of mourning, but my favorite experience with posting a fic was most definitely the escort au, BUT my favorite ones to actually write have been the vampire au and someday (though she needs [and will soon be getting!] a major edit) so i don't know. it doesn't help that if I have even a slight dislike of a project I simply won't post it lmao so the things that have made it up are there because I really liked them

[gor3sigil]

hi i dont really know how to introduce myself, so i hope you dont mind if i skip that part.

i just wanted to ask about that post you made a few days ago. in one of the last paragraphs you mention how hatching is painful. but is it supposed to feel like my entire world is cracking apart around me?

what you mentioned in the beginning of the post, about how the people around you felt about masculinity, that very aptly describes a lot of my fears of reactions to me identifying as masculine, which is what started me crying and ultimately spurred me to message you.

im just so scared

i have lots of trans people in my life, i just dont know how to talk about this with most of them (see: Very Scary :C) ive spent my whole life using femininity to take down peoples walls and help them feel comfortable around me. what the hell am i supposed to do as man? can i even still behave that way? will people even still trust me? will they like me? will they feel safe around me? its unbearable. every time i think about it my brain tries to run away, there's just so much fear.

is this normal at all? to be scared like this? i mean, considering i too struggle with the radical feminist narrative you mentioned? i dont believe the narrative, but i fear it. and then i get insecure and i cant stop thinking the insecurity an indication that manhood is the wrong direction for me.

am i making any sense?

Hi, it must've taken lots of strength to write all this so congrats to you. My answer will be based on my own experiences so take it with a grains of salt. Yeah, your world will definitely shatter too. Because even if you're just socially transitionning, if you do so while being surrounded by trans friends, most of them will change the way they percieve you so your interactions may change. I know that's scary, but you have to trust the process. If they're good friends, they won't like you less or anything. That's the hardest part I think. As you read in my post, coming ot made me lose tons of friends, most of them trans, because they treated me badly after I came out.

And yes, you are making sense. I went through the exact same fears as you. The fear of not being deemed as safe anymore. Unfortunately, I don't really have any solutions to offer you, appart from building your own community, online and/or IRL. Like I said, most of my trans friends were kinda crappy about me being masc and I struggled for years to feel comfortable in my masculinity as a result. Because I did the same as you, me being a "woman" was my way of saying that I understood the struggles of others and was safe. Let me stress one thing. You are still okay, you're not a bad person. Even if you discover new things about yourself, even if you're transmasc, even if you're transitionning (if you do), you are still very much the same person as before, with your understanding of a number of issues, with your own pas experiences.

It's a point I really can't stress enough. As I said in my post, you are still worthy of love, support, tenderness, being understood, being heard, being listened to, being comforted. One thing I noticed is that my previous friend tended to dismiss my feelings and/or be "rough" with me thinking that it was "affirming" because I was a man now. Let me tell you that that's BS and don't let anyone treat you this way.

Maybe try to test the water, idk if you came out already or not but maybe in your presentation or just by talking about transmasc specific issues with them, see how they react. That being said, I really do hope that your friends will be understanding. Or that by explaining to them how their behavior is wrong they will understand and act differently, because sometimes people so shit cause they don't know any better. I hope this helps, and I really wish you all the best. If you ever need to talk feel free to reach out again. Take care.