#who tried to search for one of my fics on tumblr so I could reblog it with a new snippet

[reinedeslys-central]

my writing directory

I know, I know, it's very audacious of me to create a writing directory when I'm not one of those stellar writers with a gazillion fics. But! I figured this is a much better way to keep track of any writing posts I make here. That way (since my tumblr fics aren't in linear scene-by-scene progression atm) anyone can just see the other parts of the fic in one spot, and I get to have one spot to know exactly what I've posted!!

scroll past the ** for writing directory.

WRITING STATS:

Fandoms I will prob write for at some point or another:

PJO / Riordanverse

Doom At Your Service

Stranger Things

Naruto

KOTLC (maybe idk)

MDZS/CQL

Love O2O/A Smile Is Beautiful

no i don't do rpf but I could be persuaded to do a cinematic universe fic

Fics currently on the go:

could die without you knowing, though - stranger things, platonic stobin dealing with tommy hagan dying (friendship weirdness), future fic (I'm talking like, they're full-on senior citizens), chrissy and eddie are alive. Tumblr & AO3

small mercies (your hands in my hair) - cisswap wangxian and gang are graduating highschool and it's their last summer in the same city. fireworks and love confessions and family feels. AO3

the currently unnamed obligatory three-days-in-the-infirmary fic - nico-centric, kinda character study, solangelo figuring things out post-BOO, kinda canon non-compliant bc idk the timeline between BOO and the other books, angst, grief, found family, softness. Tumblr only atm (the scenes are NOT in order of chronology lol)

like snakes in the grass - projected to be a JYL-centric time travel fix-it so massive I still haven't finished plotting it out lol. My OG huge fic I wanted to write. Will try posting little scenes. 'wind, peace, power;' on AO3 is supposed to be my practice run at the prologue. I will be rewriting that tho it's not my best work.

oh, haven't you heard? - a MDZS ficlet series starring gossip and rumours that are describing different canon divergences. ex. 1: oh, haven't you heard? NHS ran away to be with his lover in the burial mounds? no, you're crazy. Clearly the YLLZ abducted him. Not posted yet.

Snake In The Garden - meng yao character study.

burning like a glowing star - valgrace senior year, first meeting to kinda-lovers, right person wrong time. Tumblr

Fics that are FINISHED:

as the clouds roll in - pjo/riordanverse minor characters-centric college AU. part one of a three-part story about bianca di angelo taking care of her brother, figuring her life out, and making friends (+ Drew the unintentional major character). Anyone who can pick up on the clues (pretty easy ig) and figure out the setting, etc gets a cookie /j ! based on the vibes of 'On The Ride Home' by KC Katalbas bc I just love that song so much. AO3

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

WRITING DIRECTORY

my ao3 which has some stuff on it if anyone wants to see that - it has all the fics that have the AO3 note on them. Should have said that lol

Every scene for the same fic will be listed in the order it's written/posted. If I end up finishing a story I'll reformat and dump the whole thing in plot-order on ao3. Cheers!

PJO / Riordanverse:

the as-of-yet unnamed obligatory three-days-in-the-infirmary fic: scene 0 - prologue-ish scene 1 - the library of social awkwardness or here (or in my heart, 'kidney function is a privilege, not a right') scene 2 - sleeping easy (also a current contender for epilogue or halfway mark in the story)

assorted scenes: good days and bad days (solangelo) too much (grover and percy and insecurities)

on the ride home-verse:

burning like a glowing star: scene 1 - I See Stars scene 2 - I can show you the world

Stranger Things:

could die without you knowing though part 0 - summary first chapter (robin gets the dreaded phone call)

MDZS/CQL:

Anyway, have a nice day y'all. <3

[red-riding-wood]

PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

[javis-burner-phone]

To Writers in the Pedro Pascal Fandom:

This fandom went full Chernobyl this summer. I need a hazmat suit to get through these tags. I recently saw an anon reach out to a fic writer here.

The anon is right that there's a problem in the fandom space, but they're misplacing blame. I'm writing this post for the non-hateful writers that have tried to feel a part of the community, but ended up feeling left out. I'm posting this on a burner account for obvious reasons that you'll see below:

The hateful posts about "big writers" have absolutely disgusted me, but I can relate to the frustration that many fic writers are expressing. We see very fun and active areas of the fandom where writers are communal, hyping each other up, reblogging fics, but only within certain friend groups. Most of us writers don't have that. Instead this fandom sometimes feels like a desolate wasteland for many of us.

Here's where us writers need to place the blame:

Since the introduction of algorithms, there has been a cyclical effect: popular Tumblr posts are boosted due to everyone's default feed settings and posts from new, lesser known blogs are pushed down.

Over years, this has impacted fandom spaces in a sort of feedback loop. We're currently seeing the late stages of this. This effect pushes most fandom activity towards the already popular blogs by default. (Yes, Tumblr has always shown popular posts first, but algorithms, and the feedback loops they create, have made the effect stronger over the years.)

Is that the "big writers" faults? No. Are friend groups to blame? No. In fact, we should have more friend groups in this fandom. That's how fandoms used to be. There were dozens of overlapping friend groups that would have long reblog chains and mainly interact with each other. New people could find other new people pretty easily and make their own groups.

Now new people/smaller blogs are far less exposed to other new people/smaller blogs by default. *That* is the problem.

Eventually, I found my people. I feel a part of the community and you can too.

You just need to make 3 virgin sacrifices and find the lochness monster in order to do so. What I mean is, it takes a lot more effort than it used to. Be ready for that:

1. Sort by "Latest posts" when searching fandom hashtags. Imagine if Ao3 used an algorithm to show popular fics first instead of sorting by most recent fics. New writers would be screwed, right? That's what Tumblr does. Support posts that resonate with you, but have low engagement. Leave likes, comments, reblogs! Guess what happens when someone that feels isolated in this fandom gets a bunch of notes from you? They're gonna check out your blog. They may want to connect!

2. DM people. Is there a lesser known blogger whose posts you like? Ask to be mutuals! Start a conversation! If you can't be social it's gonna be near impossible to build community. Sorry if you have anxiety, but that's the truth. Warning: half the convos will fizzle out. Move on to the next person as soon as you sense this.

3. Don't try to connect with bigger blogs for friendship. I've tried and as long as you gush over them, they respond, but the interaction ends there. DMing them works, but the convos almost always feel one sided and fizzle out. I'm mutuals with some bigger bloggers, but I had to add their usernames to my filtered content list in account settings. This means they can see my stuff, but I can't see theirs. Seeing them have fun in their friend group just reminds me of my failed attempts to connect. Maybe filtering them isn't fair, but that's how I deal with my negative emotions. No, they are not rude for not befriending me. I don't feel entitled to friendship.

(edit: I got a weird anon about this part. It's more difficult to befriend people who already have close-knit connections here. It's not impossible, but I've had much better luck with fellow isolated fandom members. The secret ingredient is our shared desperation lol. Befriend whoever you want ❤️)

4. Join/start a small PPCU discord server. The big servers will just make you feel more isolated, but the intimate ones are way more communal and it's easier to make stronger connections there than on Tumblr. 

These tips are for people that actually want to find solutions instead of spreading hate and complaining.

I'm saying this as someone that averages 50 notes on most of my fics after a year in this fandom(edit: saw this poll and thought I'd clarify. I get 50 notes now, but for 8ish months I got 5 on a lucky day. This post is for people who still feel isolated because I know how it feels.) It takes way more effort than in the early 2010s to feel a part of a fandom, not because of cliques, but because of the feedback loops the algorithm creates. 

I understand the frustration, but I'm not going to spread vitriol just because the fandom ecosystem went to shit. 

[chosotallgf]

DOUBLE IDENTITY #1 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

next chapter 🔜

SYNOPSIS | y/n is a third year college student who is about to intern for the top business company in Japan in a week, what happens when she unknowingly cross paths with her future boss not knowing he’s hiding a secret.

WARNING | mafiaboss toji x fém!reader, geto x fém!reader, alcohol, moderate au, sexual activity, criminal activity & behavior, naoya is his own warning, angst & fluff (not really lol) not proof read

p.s my work is only on A03 & tumblr!

it was finally the weekend which means you and your girls can turn up in club after your lectures. I mean what is a Friday night if you are not clubbing in your 20s? you have 1 year left before you graduate from university & is interning at one of the top businesses in japan in a week.

you been waiting for this opportunity since you hear a new ceo was appointed not so long ago, you also hear gossip that he always looks detached / laidback but he’s also very wealthy so it’s fine right? what could possibly go wrong?

Rushing up your apartment stairs to get ready & nearly falling to get to your closet. you promised your two best friends shoko & utahime to be dress by midnight and it was well past 10pm. destroying your closet wasn’t enough you needed to find the perfect outfit for tonight, it didn’t help that you also had to take a bath & do your makeup which all together was about an hour.

as you were searching you spot your off the shoulder tight mesh top that push up your boobs up good. “yeah this top will do for now” you thought as you pair it with a black mini skirt.

Half way getting ready, you hear a loud ass banging nose against your door “y/n you better hurry tf up I wanna make sure we get a good section at the club” utahime shouts. “hold on give me a min” you huff out as you struggle to get your last pair of heels on.

Finally all done you walk downstairs to find them snooping thru your fridge “if your hungry their barely anything in there, I haven’t gone shopping yet” “I can tell I only see this half ate pie left” shoko says as she grabs a fork. “So who the lucky guy that’s been taking you out to dinner Mhm?” Utahime grins says crossing her arms.

“No one” I roll my eyes. “I been so busy & tried that all I been eating is takeout, between classes and getting ready for this new internship it’s hell” my face clearly showing that I’m stressed, utahime pulls me into a hug saying “don’t put too much pressure on your self you need to relax you already got the intern whats more to worry about?” Puffing out “I don’t know what if I somehow mess this up? I been pulling so much into my classes to get good grades but it will be all for nothing if I can’t even get working for a company correctly”

“see their you go again worry about the future, just have fun in the moment, right shoko?” she gesture towards me at Vivi to get her to agree. I mean she’s right but I saw so many reviews online about how the company is strict and isn’t afraid to disposition anyone. “utahime right, plus we are suppose to clubbing right having fun and this isn’t let’s goo” shoko wraps her arms around me and utahime shoulders as she pulls us to the door with kisses on our cheek. if only y/n knew this was the first step leading down a dangerous road….

author note: I already wrote like half of the beginning of this fic so give me time to post chapter 2 soon :)

also lmk if you wanna be tagged when 2nd chapter is posted! remember to like and reblog

update chapter 2 is posted

[nemobeatrice]

The Golden Miners - Chapter 11: The Pink Guy

If you want to reblog the GIF without the fic, reblog this.

FF.net

Quotev

Wattpad

Fugo woke up in his room and was about to get dressed when he saw a note on the floor near the door. It was from Giorno, saying that his dad found a house nearby. It had the address on it, too. Great, he thought, we can visit each other without driving. The note also said he wasn't here and he'd be helping unpack all day.

Okay, so Giorno wasn't going to be here. Fugo can survive. Good thing he's friends with Narancia. He texted him and waited for a reply. Usually, Narancia replied right away, but he was taking his sweet time. Well, he needed to change his clothes. However, he received nothing from his best friend after changing.

Something probably occupied Narancia's attention. For now, he got on his computer, having YouTube and Tumblr open on two different tabs. Then his phone rang, but the caller was Trish. What did she want now?

"Yes?" Fugo answered.

"Hey, are we that pink-haired guy?" Trish asked. "You know, Doppio?"

It all came back to him now. "Oh yeah. Unfortunately, Giorno isn't able to help. He moved into one of the houses here."

"Oh, well, at least Mista's replying to our text now."

Fugo had managed to see Mista's texts but was too tired to read them. He checked it now, and Mista left apologies for being unresponsive.

"So, about this search, why did you call me to help find—what's his name—Doppio?" he asked.

"Well, Mista said you're the smartest person. He'd figure you'd track him down. Go on, Google him."

Fugo rolled his eyes and did as she commanded. "Ugh, I keep getting places of coffee shops. Do we have any more details about this guy? I need to know if Doppio is his first or last name. Also, the exact city he resides in would be nice."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"This is your problem."

He heard her sigh. "Okay, then let's ask Mista. He knows Prosciutto, who knows Risotto, who knows Doppio."

"Alright, then call him."

"Ugh, you're supposed to be the information gatherer. Fine, well, Narancia's angry with you."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Trish sighed. "And I'm angry too. But, unlike Narancia, I'm angry with both you and Giorno. You guys are rich enough to go to Disneyland and should've invited us."

"Why are you mad at us? We can't just ask for a bunch of money from our parents!"

"You're right! I hate your parents. Yeah, and even Giorno's dad!"

"Hold on. Can we get back on topic? If that's true, why would Narancia be mad at me?"

"I'll tell you if you give me the information I need."

"Ugh, fine! I'll call Mista." Fugo hung up on Trish and called Mista. "Hey, are you there, Mista? I need you to help me out with something."

"Oh, Fugo. It's you," Mista said, sounding depressed. "Sorry for not answering your calls and texts. I made everyone worry, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Formaggio was right. Prosciutto must've broken up with him. He wasn't sure how to approach this and was nervous. "Could you tell me about any of Prosciutto's friends?"

"Oh, sure." Mista sighed. "Formaggio seems alright. He's in a relationship with Illuso, a stuck-up prick. Pesci is Prosciutto's ugly little friend. He creeps me out. Melone's hot, but I think Ghiaccio, some guy who reminds me of you, is dating him. Then there's Prosciutto's boyfriend, Risotto. Not going to lie, he's hot as fuck. I guess I shouldn't be so upset he broke up with me. I would, too. I can't tell who's hotter, him or Giorno's dad."

Fugo almost barfed. "Um, could you tell me more about Risotto?"

"Did you and Giorno get into a fight or something? Risotto is a little too old for you."

"What? No! Oh my god! Just tell me about Doppio, the guy he was dating!"

"Sheesh, don't get your panties twisted! I met up with Doppio—oh, that's his last name, by the way—and he tried to get with me. Before I could agree, I asked him for his age, and he said he was 33. Dude looked like he had just turned 18! What the hell kind of anti-aging cream does he use? It's probably expensive. I turned him down. He seems high-end."

"What's his first name?" Fugo sounded impatient.

"Vinegar. Yeah, strange, I know. Hey, don't you find it's weird how we're named after food?"

Fugo ignored his question and searched Doppio, finding zero results. He used other search engines, and still nothing. "Does Doppio live in Italy?"

"Yeah, I assume somewhere in Sardinia. He sounds like he's from there. Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Where is Doppio usually? Do you have his contact information?"

"Sorry, but I don't know where you can find him, and he didn't give me his contact info."

"That's fine. Later." Fugo sighed and hung up on Mista. He dialed Trish, and she answered. "I need to confirm something. Your mother met your dad in Sardinia, right?"

"Yes, Costa Smeralda, to be exact," she answered. "Did you find him?"

"Not exactly. I can't find where he lives. His name is Vinegar Doppio, and he's 33. Mista assumed he lived in Sardinia. That's it. That's all the information I have."

"Thanks." Trish sighed. "I don't know what to do. How will I find him?"

"I would've told you if I knew that. You're going to do this by yourself."

"Except I'm not going to do this by myself. Besides, Narancia wants to help, and I think you guys need to fix what's going on between you two. This might be a great way, and Narancia isn't smart. He'll need all the help he can get. Let's—"

"Now, hold on!" an angered Fugo interrupted. "Narancia may be bad at math, but that does not mean he's a burden to the search!"

"You're right. I'm sorry. Let's meet at the beach. It's not too hot to go on a search."

-

Everyone except for Giorno was at the beach. Narancia didn't seem too happy with Fugo and tried to wedge Mista between them.

"Alright, everyone," Trish started, "Doppio isn't here, so we'll search all of Naples for hints or clues. Now, we'll split the group into two. I'll be with Sheila while you boys do whatever you do."

"I may not be the smartest," Narancia said. "But I won't be an issue. Do I need Fugo with me?"

Before Trish could answer, Fugo glared at him and interrupted. "If there's something you want to say, say it."

"We're going to go now," Trish said, taking Sheila by the hand and running away."

"Wait!" Mista was about to go after them but stopped, looking at his two friends arguing. "Hey, can we work together?"

"Did you enjoy the beach without us, Fugo?" Narancia questioned.

"I wished you joined us, but you just had to play Just Dance for hours!" yelled Fugo.

"You would've joined us if you weren't Giorno's little bitch!"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been spending so much time with Giorno that you've ignored us! Right, Mista?"

"Do I have to answer that? Could we please find Trish's dad?" Mista avoided.

"Ugh! Whatever. I supposed we should head to Risotto's house." Narancia took out his phone and typed away. Fugo caught a glimpse of Risotto's address in the Google results.

"How'd you know how to search for people's addresses?" Fugo asked.

"My Twitch chat told me one time. When you were off having fun at Disneyland without us, Formaggio doxxed me."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, whatever. I know where Risotto lives. Hmm, this neighborhood isn't so friendly. Luckily, I know friends who live there."

"Oh, those questionable friends who abandoned you?"

"Shut up!" Narancia threw a punch at him, but Mista gripped his arm before it made contact with Fugo's face.

"Stop, guys!" Mista separated them. "We're making a scene here. You're going to get the cops on us. Cool it! If we're lucky, Abbacchio might show up. Do you guys want to be lectured by him?"

"No," the boys answered.

Narancia sighed. "Let's just get this over with. Don't talk to anyone in this neighborhood. I hope Trish and Sheila don't follow us. I heard a few horror stories. You guys watch the news, right? Sometimes, the newscaster would talk about how bad it's over there."

"I hardly watch the news," Mista said, "but I got it. I brought a gun with me, just in case. Prosciutto gifted me his revolver." He let them have a peek at it before putting it away.

"Mista, I never asked if you're alright after the breakup. I'm sorry. Are you broken up with him?"

"I'm a little sad, but I'll be fine." Then he blushed. "Besides, I want to look at Risotto again, hehe!"

"The neighborhood isn't far. That must be why Risotto took Doppio here." Narancia grinned at Fugo. "Wow, you took Giorno near a dangerous neighborhood and didn't know? That's not like you."

Fugo clenched his fists. "Enough! Let's go."

The walk wasn't far. Fugo had never noticed the tall, grungy apartments because cleaner and well-maintained buildings hid them. New graffiti overlapped with the faded and ugly ones. Some were almost washed away. As for the people, unsavory people watched the boys. Fugo felt like someone was watching them and got closer to Narancia, but the black-haired boy coldly shoved him away.

"Dude, hug Mista. He's the one with the gun," Narancia whispered.

"Don't worry, Fugo. We're almost there," Mista said.

He wanted to look back to see if they were following, but Mista checked for him.

"Hey, you alright?" he whispered to him.

"Yeah, I think I'm just paranoid," Fugo answered, continuing to whisper.

"Can't blame you. You may be loaded, but you dress badly."

"Now that I think about it, I think I'm safe. You guys spend your allowance on expensive clothing."

"Seriously? Shit, no wonder why I felt eyes on me!" Mista panicked, no longer whispering.

"Mista, calm down!" Narancia ordered. He pulled out his pocket knife. "Where's Risotto's apartment number? If you guys are going to be pussies about this, I'm going by myself."

"And leave you by yourself?" Fugo said. "No."

"Quit pretending you care about me."

"Shut up!" Mista demanded. "We're near his home. Quiet!"

They stopped near a door. Fugo noticed signs of a break-in and some dried blood on the door frame. He moved the welcome mat, which covered more blood.

"I'm scared," Fugo admitted.

Risotto opened the door. He was tall and looked unamused. It seemed his presence intimated Narancia, seeing as he dropped his knife and bumped into Fugo.

"Mista?" Risotto spoke, and the two boys noticed their friend blushing furiously. "Who are these two?"

"H-hi! Um, do you know where Doppio is?" Mista asked.

"He went to meet a blond guy he met this morning. I don't know who. And before you ask Mista, it's not Prosciutto. He's with me."

"He's here? Um, do you guys want company?"

"Mista!" The two boys jabbed his stomach.

"Ouch! Okay, do you know this blond guy?"

"No," Risotto answered. "But I've seen him. He's the toughest guy I've ever seen. And before you go, I think that guy might be a tourist."

Before he could close the door, Mista put his foot in the doorway. "Do you have his number, Twitter, anything?"

"Doppio's tough to contact. He'll contact you when he wants to. Can you leave?"

Mista unlocked the door and left the neighborhood with his friends.

"So, all we have is a mysterious blond guy," Narancia said.

"And he's buff," Mista added.

"Don't tell me who I think it is," Fugo said. He got his phone out and called Giorno. "Hey, GioGio, what's your dad doing currently?"

"I'm not sure," Giorno answered. "I finished unpacking, but he wasn't helping me. Instead, he enlisted an army of his friends to help. It's ridiculous! Also, I have no idea where my mother is. Should I text him?"

"Yes."

"Okay, hold on. I just texted him. I'm waiting for a reply. Is there a reason why you need him?"

"Remember that pink-haired guy we saw at the beach? We might think he's Trish's dad and might be with your dad."

"Her dad with my dad? What do you mean?"

"Dating. They're together. That's what Risotto's saying."

"No, that can't be. My dad is with my mother. They're out there somewhere doing something." Fugo heard the doorbell ring through the phone. "Hold on. I think my dad is home. Hey, Dad, your friends— Oh no. Um, where's Mother? You broke up with her? Is that why you brought home this guy?" It sounded like Giorno was moving. "Hey, babe, you need to get over here."

"Thanks. I love you!" he said before hanging up. "Ugh, now I need to call Trish."

"Hey, I think I'll head home," Narancia said. Fugo knew him well enough to hear that sad tone in his voice.

"Hey, Narancia, I'm sorry for fighting with you."

He sighed. "I just want to be alone right now."

Fugo looked at Mista, hoping he'd know what's up. He didn't. They let Narancia walk away.

-

The four of them arrived at Giorno's house around 1 PM. Fugo rang the doorbell. Hopefully, Giorno heard the door. It sounded like he was having a party.

"Do you think Giorno's got food?" Mista asked. "We haven't eaten lunch."

"Sorry, I guess I was so caught up trying to search for my dad," Trish apologized. "Hmm, don't you think it's strange how Giorno's dad had vacationed here for a week and already has a house here? Can he do that, Fugo?"

"Trust me. He can," Fugo replied. Someone like Dio, who lived for a long time, must have friends in high places. He wondered what he could get away with.

Giorno opened the door. "Oh, guys, you're here."

"You just moved in," Trish said. "How have you finished unpacking?"

"Well, my dad called his friends here. And no, they're not from Japan. They're from Egypt and the other parts of Europe. I think that Hol Horse guy is from America. I don't know. He has guns and kind of dresses like a cowboy, but enough about them. I saw that pink-haired guy with my dad. Follow me. Close the door."

Trish got inside first. Fugo closed the door once everyone was in.

"Dude, Narancia's room looks nicer than this," Mista commented, looking at the beer bottles on the floor. "Are you sure you've finished unpacking?"

"It wasn't like this," Giorno explained while walking to the room where Dio held the party. "It got rowdy so fast. But Trish, how do you know if Doppio is your dad?"

"Well, I had this feeling at the beach. Do you want to know what's funny? Formaggio thought Doppio was my brother. And I'm getting that feeling again. I may not trust Formaggio, but I do trust my gut."

"Hey, Trish," Sheila said. "Formaggio said Doppio is with Giorno's dad—Dio, right? Um, does that mean Giorno's kind of like a brother?"

Mista laughed. "Hehe, Giorno and Trish are step-siblings! Why do I find that strange?"

"Wouldn't my dad have to marry Dio for him to be my stepbrother?" Trish asked, looking at Fugo.

"I'm exhausted to answer this. We've had a long day and gone without lunch," Fugo replied.

"My dad ordered pizza," Giorno said. "It'll be here soon."

They reached the door. Giorno opened it, and once he did, everyone in the room looked at them. They were all adults except for one. As for Dio and Doppio, the pink-haired man sat on his lap, making out with the blond, who squeezed him tightly. They stopped, realizing the silence filling the room, and turned to face them.

"Aw, I thought the pizza was here," Doppio whined.

"Shh." Dio planted his finger on Doppio's tender lips. "That's just my son and his friends." He looked at them. "Giorno, I said this party was for grown-ups only."

They eyed the only teenager in the party. The teen had a beer bottle in his hand.

"Except him. He's an exception. He was basically a baby, haha!"

"Um," Trish spoke up, making eye contact with Doppio. She struggled to get the words out, but there were too many people. They all looked at her with piercing stares. "Never mind," she said before leaving.

"Was she talking to me?" Doppio asked.

The doorbell rang.

"Giorno, make sure the girl doesn't get the pizza. I don't want her to eat it," Dio said.

"She hates pizza," Sheila informed.

"Giorno, get the pizza. I'll take care of Trish," Fugo said.

Fugo rushed to Trish, finding her in a corner, curled up in a ball and trembling. "Are you alright?"

She jumped and turned around. "Oh my gosh! It's you! Sorry, you surprised me. Gees, there are so many adults in there. They don't need to hear my business, and seeing Dio make out with my dad was weird."

"Yeah, it's weird. Maybe you should confront him next time."

"How will we even know if there will be a next time? It seems impossible to contact him."

"You're right, and I don't think we can ask Dio. He doesn't like you, it seems."

The two heard Sheila's footsteps. "Sorry, I had a few words with Doppio. He says he finds it silly that you're his kid, but once I showed him a photo of your mother, he had a headache and went to the bathroom. I'd follow him, but Dio yelled at me. What do we do?"

Trish sighed. "Let's just go home. Turns out this was just a waste of time. Oh, and Fugo, before we go, are we streaming Minecraft tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I feel Narancia is not on board," Fugo answered. "He's been hostile towards me."

Giorno held boxes of pizza stacked onto each other with a salad bowl on top and walked across the halls. "You guys hungry? We can't eat with the adults, but we can head to the dining room."

"Oh! A salad? Who ordered that?" Trish asked.

"Mariah did, but I don't think she'll mind if it disappeared." He smiled, handing her the bowl.

"Ah, you're the best!"

"Hey, where's Mista?" Fugo realized he disappeared again. "Don't tell me he's in the party room."

Sheila facepalmed. "He has to be. He's 18, isn't he? Giorno, get him out of there so we can eat with him."

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

omg, chels you dont understnd. i tried reblogging this last weekend but tumblr wont fucking let me because the app crashed and then my work fucked me over, so rip to my first reaction to this beautiful fic 🥹

Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did.

hmmmm, this sounds like foreshadowing 👀 i see you...

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

literally, laughed at this because girl, same. what freedom???? who needs that??? all i need is billy?!?!? indepence? cant relate

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

🎶take me into your fucking arms🎶

“What if I don’t want you to leave?”

*puts on wedding gown* fucking commit then, m8

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

reading this triggered my very own vietnam war flashback the last chapter

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

MAAM, HE IS TRYING AND I LOVE IT 🥹 LOVE ME A MAN THAT ACTIVELY FIXES HIS MISTAKES. USE A LIP SCRUB AND THEN SCRUB HER FUCKING LIPS OFF OF YOU BABIIII 🥹🥹🥹

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

jfc, i should make a bingo card with all my kinks for this fic. if i make a bingo with all it i blaze the chapter i bingo'ed on 😭😭😭

Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

he already got it ✨💖💕

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

here, so all the girlies dont need to imagine or search the gugle for it

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

yes?????

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

"You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.”

"Do you want more?” Billy asks.

"You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

is this...degradation kink? or is there a enemies to lovers kink? is this it? what is this kink? 😭😂

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

shit, i'd give him everything and anything..heart, body, and soul 😭😭😭

“You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.”

amen. 😌✨

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

omg omg omg omg touch it quick

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

chelsea, respectfully, wtf 🥹✨

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

like my fucking earphones when i put it in my fucking pocket 😌🔪

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

....chels, im begging you, if ever this applies in the near future, dont use Wanda's line on me i will cry and breakdown and i cannot..

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

thats love, bitch

“Is there any way to break it?”

respectfully, no 😌✨

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

aggsagahaggwgah, istg, do that one more time and im dragging you to the nearest city hall to get married 😤💕

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

maam, you just contradicted yourself in the same sentence 😂😂😂😂

If he could play games, so would you.

and you'd lose but you'd like it. so game on, babes 😌✨

The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

"Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

occupy my mouth to shut me up then 😤✨

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

this fucking line omg omg. chelsea, you brilliant little piece of perfect golden brown toast

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

"Good girl.”

It almost drives you insane.

stop emotionally edging yourself 😭😭😭

omg, chelsea 🥹 so fucking good 🥹

Nightfall (4)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3

Warnings: Dubious Consent, smut (18+), mostly dirty talk, some fucked up dynamics where he lets her press a stake to his heart, oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, teasing.

For @stardustmorozov, Nicky I'm sorry but you're gonna yell at me again... and I'm gonna love it.

You sit on his bed, listening to the sound of the shower going. 

Your mouth tastes like spearmint, and your hair is still a little damp after your shower despite your attempts at blow drying.

You’re in one of his shirts, having raided his drawers when the duffel bag he’d given you earlier held nothing but sheer lingerie disguised as sleepwear.

Maybe you shouldn’t stay here, so instead you stand, and begin wandering around his apartment.

His bedroom is farthest from the front door, and you step out, roaming down the hallway, and stopping when you see another door.

It’s open, and you peek in to find an office that you promise yourself to explore after.

It’s the only door in the hallway, and the end of it opens up into a large area with a high ceiling. There’s his kitchen to your left, and on the opposite end of the room from where you are, is the living room area. There are no walls here, just windows that show off the glittering lights of the New York skyline at night. You wonder how he’s able to stand the sun, knowing that vampire eyes were hypersensitive to light, and that most of them avoided the sunlight. Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did. 

You tuck that snippet of information away for further examination.

You turn to examine the kitchen, scanning the cupboards, surprised to find regular household foods like pasta and rice, wondering if he had bought these items for you, or for other human friends of his.

Another hallway at the other end of the kitchen catches your eye, and you walk slowly, more deep in your own head than you were paying attention to the layout of his apartment.

You find the bedroom you’d first woken up in, all walls and no windows, a place that protects from the light, with its own en suite bathroom. You decide that maybe you can sleep here tonight, away from him and his wretched mouth. 

Backtracking, you look at the door for a long moment, before moving forward to examine it.

You reach for the handle, pushing down, you realise it’s locked. You sigh, eyes falling on the latched deadbolt, reaching up to open it, before trying the door handle again.

The door opens this time.

Your stomach twists.

Damn, had it really been that easy the entire time? You study the elevator just a few paces away from the door.

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

You turn away from the door, and you gasp in fright as you see him standing just a few steps away. 

You jerk, back hitting the door as fright slams through you.

You suck in a deep breath, pressing your hand to your chest.

He’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and shoulders still glistening with water after his shower.

You stare at each other, a silent showdown of who’s going to speak first.

Billy tilts his head, studying you intently.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your brain comes up with the dumbest, most obvious answer possible.

“I’m- not wearing pants.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We could go get some. Would you leave then?”

“No, cause it’s three in the morning and I’m tired.”

He takes a step toward you, a teasing smile on his pretty face. Your eyes trace the lines of his scars as he draws nearer. You relax as he approaches.

“And in the morning?” 

He’s so close now, you’re eye level with his dripping wet chest.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” You whisper, studying the scars on his chest, and then flitting your gaze up to meet his.

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

Except that you don’t feel trapped, all you feel is heated want.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” He asks, his voice stirs something inside of you, a dangerous feeling, something disastrous in the making.

“You can’t stop me.” You murmur, as his fingers touch the bottom of your chin, gently tilting your head higher.

He smiles then, all fangs and pearly whites on display.

“If only that were true.” He hums, leaning in till his lips brush yours.

You push against his biceps hard, and he moves back just enough so that you’re able to slip away from him.

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

You don’t get very far, before he’s gripping your wrist tightly to keep you in place. You turn to face him, a look of calm irritation plastered on your face.

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?”

“It’s about nothing. Let me go.” You pull on your arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m not-” You grunt as you pull on your hand again, “-You’re just pissing me off.”

“You’re the one that called me ‘sick’ and now you’re jealous cause I kissed someone?”

“I’m not fucking jealous-” You gasp as he pins your body to the kitchen counter, your body freezing in shock at the angry expression on his face.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He grits out, blinking after a second and seemingly calming in the same space of time.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Don’t forget I can hear every beat of your heart. I can smell your cunt. I already know how wet you are. Don’t think you’re capable of a lie.”

You let out an angry sigh, turning your head away from him.

“Whatever.” you say as harshly as you can.

There’s a moment of silence, where he looks at you, and you make a point not to look at him.

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Billy what the fuck! Put me the fuck down now you asshole!” You grunt, his shoulder digging near painfully into your hip. 

You kick your legs, trying to escape and after a moment you realise that it doesn’t make a difference.

If you really wanted to, you could maybe straighten your body and fight your way out of his grip, but there was an inevitability to his movements. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how difficult it was, Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

So when your body lands softly on his bed, all you do is look up at him angrily.

“Stay there.” He orders, untucking the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor. You look up to the ceiling to avoid looking at his nude form. You don't want to give him the satisfaction.

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

You clench, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of your face to hide your desire. You try your very hardest not to remember the look of him, the feel of his body on yours, his cock-

He tugs the pillow away from your face, and you sigh in annoyance up at him.

You don’t want to look down, but your eyes have almost a mind of their own.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you notice that he’s wearing a fitted pair of grey boxers on his lower half.

When your eyes meet his in confusion, he grins.

He finds his way up to you, hands sliding over your legs, up your calves and to your knees.

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

His hands slide up more, and you're just confused when he reaches under your shirt to tug at your panties.

"We're not fucking tonight, sweetheart, I just wanna talk to you."

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

When he gets the garment off, you watch him close his eyes for a brief second, tilt his head up and take a deep breath.

He was-

"God. You smell good."

His eyes are red when they reconnect with yours.

You don't say anything- you find that you can't. You want him and he knows it.

He grips your thighs, pressing them upward so that your cunt is exposed to him fully.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you're sure he can hear it. Open and vulnerable as you watch him look at your glistening cunt.

"Pretty. Did you know that?" 

You gulp, eyes glued to his form, admiring the look of his arms and the swell of his biceps.

"I want to taste you every day, all the time. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from dropping you on the first surface I can find and burying my face in your cunt."

He watches you clench around nothing, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

He releases your legs, letting them drop a little and he looms in above you, pressing your body tightly to his.

Chest to chest, your bare centre pressed right up to the hardness of his clothed cock, there's no space to breathe where he doesn't exist.

He angles his head so that his lips are pressed to your ear.

"I want to lick that pretty little cunt till you pass out, and then wake you up so I can do it all over again." He whispers in your ear, your body tense and on edge from just his words.

"I want to fuck you till you beg me to stop, and even then, I'll still be giving you just one more."

You think you might be ruining the sheets below you with how aroused you were.

"Then do it." You challenge, hoping for some reprieve to the ache inside of you.

His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing your cheek before covering your mouth firmly.

You make a muffled sound of protest, raising your hands to try and push him away. You hear a quiet laugh, before one of your hands is pinned above your head.

It doesn’t matter, whether you have one hand free or two- you would not be able to get out from under him on your own.

“My poor sweet little huntress,” He hums, your ear vibrating with his low words, “If you want me to fuck you till you cry, you’re going to have to ask nicely. Actually no- you’re going to have to beg.”

Your groan of annoyance is muffled behind his palm. There was no way you were going to beg him for anything.

You feel him smile against your neck, and then you still as you feel his teeth. 

He drags his sharp teeth gently over your neck, avoiding the spot where he bit you earlier.

“You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.” 

To prove his point, you feel his tongue swipe over your shoulder, and then purposefully over your bite, sending brief little shivers down your spine, and then he trails his tongue up the column of your neck, and then even further, licking over your cheek as well.

Your body feels like a livewire, vibrating with sheer desire each time he touches you.

You want to grunt out so many things. That he was filthy, that he was just downright fucked up in the head.

That you wanted him to keep going.

“You like that, don’t you? You always have.” He lets out a slow sigh, “You always get so wet when you can’t fight back.”

Fuck you, you wanted to say. 

“What if we made this interesting?” He hums, raising his upper body off yours for a second to reach into his bedside drawer. 

You’re no longer fully trapped under him, and if you wanted to get out, you could. Instead, you wait curiously to see what he was going to do.

He pulls a stake out of his top drawer.

“You- just have that in there? I could have killed you this whole time?”

“Of course.” He teases pushing the drawer shut, “Now’s your chance.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s sliding the silver stake into your hand.

What the fuck?

“Now, you can stop me if you really want.” Billy says ominously.

“That’s the most fucked up-” Before you can finish, he’s slapping his hand back over your mouth.

“Don’t care about what you have to say, baby, I’m gonna do what I want to you, and you can stop me if you feel like.”

And then, he starts tugging your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

In retrospect, you don’t have to kill him to make him stop, you could just mortally wound him. One well placed stab near the heart would be enough of a deterrent. You could slip free and be out the door in minutes.

Billy pulls your shirt up higher, exposing your breasts to the open air. Your hand tightens on the stake.

You should do it. You really should.

He groans when his tongue slides wetly over your left nipple. You shudder blissfully.

Your eyes roll back in your head, before fluttering shut. A breath of air leaves your mouth in a rush, fingers hold taut on the warming piece of silver in your hand.

One quick swipe of his tongue on your left breast, then your right. He raises his head.

“Do you want more?” Billy asks.

With your eyes still closed, you shake your head.

“Then stop me.” He says, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple. 

His short beard scratches along your sensitive breast, he kisses his way up to the spot below your collarbone, white hot sparks splintering over your body everywhere he touches.

You still when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Still want me to stop?” He checks in.

No you don’t.

“Yes.”

His teeth press into your skin.

A sharp cry spills out of you, tingles as he breaks skin, followed by a jolt of pain and then heat.

You jerk when he extracts his fangs.

Billy moans when he gets his first mouthful.

You pant, unable to understand how having him drink from you could hurt, and yet feel so blissfully good.

He takes another, and then another.

Was he going to kill you like this? Should you stop him now?

He rolls his hips, rock hard erection just bumping your clit and you gasp.

Fuck, why did every part of him have to feel so good? You could feel your arousal, slippery and messy between your thighs, begging you to give into him, if only for a moment so that he could ease your ache.

Instead, you move your hand, pressing the stake to his shoulder.

From his spot, drinking from your chest, you feel him make a sound of amusement.

You groan, disdain for him building in you, you press the weapon deeper till it breaks his skin.

He pauses, raising his head from your chest, lapping slowly at the trickling droplets of your blood before drawing back.

“Silly girl, didn’t anyone teach you how to kill a vampire?” He asks, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip, and though you try to fight his guidance, he’s too strong, pulling your hand until the stake is pressed to the centre of his chest.

“My heart is right here.” He murmurs softly, and with his hand on yours, he pulls the weapon closer, breaking skin once more.

“Stop.” You say, panic building inside of you, tugging at your hand in hopes that it can slip out from under his. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to kill him.

You pull hard at your hand, gasping gratefully when you manage to pull away. 

You look at him, sharp breaths trying to calm yourself when you get your hand away. 

He gives you a soft smile, pulling the stake away from his chest and dropping it on the bed.

You gulp, watching the wound he’d caused heal before your eyes.

“You are,” You breathe, “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Maybe,” He agrees with a hum, “But at least you can admit to yourself now, that you want this too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely, “That maybe you actually like me.”

“Not wanting you to die is not the same as-”

“-Oh give me a fucking break.” He grunts, pulling back.

He grips your knees, and before you can figure out what he’s doing- he flips you onto your stomach.

You let out a little grunt, pushing yourself up, but suddenly pressed back down by the weight of his body covering yours.

“You’ve cum on my cock way too many times to be lying to yourself like this.” He hisses.

You turn your head, so that you can see his face in your peripherals.

"You're such an arrogant fuck." You grunt out, your rucked up shirt causing your nipples to press against the bed, the exposure of your body makes you almost quiver with delight.

He leans in, his breath against your ear as you feel his hands gripping your hips.

"Why can't you just admit to yourself that you might want me, hmm?" He hisses lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin, tormenting you.

"That deep down," He continues, pressing his hand between your hips and the bed, "Somewhere in that pretty head and wet cunt," You feel his hand sliding lower, fingers touching the top of your mound, "You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"I want to lick your cunt so often that I can taste you when you're not there. Is that too much to ask for?"

Your head spins, too drunk on him to formulate words.

He makes it even harder, by slipping his hand lower, fingers meeting your wet slit.

He doesn't hesitate, fingers gliding easily down, meeting your clit and you let out a low, shuddering moan as your ache is addressed in the slightest way possible.

You tilt your hips forward, into his hand.

"Billy." You sigh, widening your legs instinctively, anything to encourage him to keep going.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You mewl, nodding your head.

His finger slips gently over your clit, and your breathing pauses, you don't want to do anything that would make him stop giving you this pleasure.

He gives a firm press, and you feel your body shudder, a wave of pure bliss sinking over you.

You say his name again, shifting your body, trying to display your impatience to him.

"Ah ah ah, little girl. Where are your manners? I told you I wanted you to beg."

"Fuck you." You groan angrily.

His finger slips lower, massaging your entrance for a few moments before slipping his finger in.

You gasp, your body going lax at the feel of the pleasure building in you. It’s good. It’s so good and it’s so wrong that he makes you feel like this.

"So fucking tight." He hisses, "That cunt's begging for a stretch."

Focusing on his words are hard with the way his lone finger moves, pumping in and out of you easily, your body desperate for him.

Something goes off in your head, like a gun when he curls his finger, and touches that spot deep inside of you. It pulls a groan from the very depths of your soul. You pant, trying to keep your thinking focused with the way he’s trying to steal it.

"That's it. You like this huh? Like the way I take what I want?" He leans in till his lips are at your ear, "I like it too." You clench around his finger.

"You're a sick fuck." You groan, half your mouth muffled from where your face is pressed to the bed.

"Yeah? Am I? Do you hate me?" He pulls back, and before you can make any sound of protest, two of his fingers are sliding into you.

Fuck, you can feel your body stretching for him. He uses his other hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up almost painfully so that your face isn’t muffled in the sheets anymore.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

You cry, his fingers beginning to move slowly, spreading you open and forcing you to feel him, to ache for more of him.

His fingers slow when you don’t immediately answer, and you groan internally, assembling the words in your head.

“I- I,” You stutter out, tears dripping from your eyes uncontrollably and pooling around his grip on your jaw, “I h-hate you.”

“Yeah? Poor little girl. Should I stop then? Leave you alone?” He coos, voice condescending in every way possible.

“Nh-” You immediately vocalise, begging him in your head to not stop, but the words can’t seem to come out of your mouth.

He laughs in your ear, understanding what you were about to say without you having to say it. 

The pace of his fingers quicken, you hiss, arching your back, feeling your orgasm swiftly approaching. You’ve wanted him since this morning, since he pulled you onto his lap and told you that you were his.

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back in your head, on the brink of release-

-And then his fingers stop.

A cry of despair leaves your lips, and the denial in your body aches, and then hurts even more when he pulls his fingers away, withdrawing his hand from under you. His grip on your jaw loosens, until your face is pressed against the sheets once more.

You raise your head groggily, turning your body onto your side when you feel him lift himself off of you. You catch sight of him sliding his fingers, wet with your denial into his mouth.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, on the brink of begging for him, pleading with him to make you cum, and then take you in any way he saw fit.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you stay still, trying not to speak, feeling the fire of denial burn through you.

You tug your shirt down, looking at him with angry eyes as he observes you.

“Are you done having your fun?” You ask bitterly.

The corner of his lip twitches.

"You know what to say if you want to cum, baby. Don't act like this isn't your choice."

You feel petulance build up inside of you, anger beyond thought.

"Go fuck yourself." You hiss, moving to slide off the bed.

He grips your hips, hauling you back, until you're on your back, looking angrily up at him.

"What's the rush, sweetness? Don't you want me to clean you up?" 

“Clean me?” You repeat in disbelief, sitting up, propping the weight of your torso onto your elbows. Your brain stalling on what that could possibly mean.

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

He takes his time, shouldering his body in between your thighs, his face so close to your dripping centre that you’re not sure if you have any brain cells left functional

“God.” He murmurs, his breath brushing along your mound as he takes in an unnecessary breath, his eyes immediately locking on to the messy place between your thighs, “You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.” 

“You are the most insane person on the planet.”

He grins, lowering his head slowly, anticipation building inside of you, a simmering heat, a thrumming pulse.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Is the last thing he murmurs before his lips meet your cunt.

You close your eyes, pressing your lips together, begging yourself to not make a sound. He places a gentle kiss to your slit, and then another, before you feel his lips part, and his tongue snake out.

You make a muffled groan behind your clenched teeth as he gets a taste of you.

What starts off gentle, turns slightly rougher as he lays a harsh swipe of his tongue along your pussy, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel Billy begin to slowly lick your cunt.

He’s thorough and unrelenting, his face buried between your thighs, licking at you without a care in the world.

You want to spit every degrading word you can at him, hating the way you know in the back of your head that only he has ever made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck you.” You gasp as his tongue finds your clit easily, a laugh vibrating through your nether regions as he hears you.

You give up trying to resist, reaching to grip the back of his head, hoping to urge him on.

It has the opposite effect, he raises his head, and you whine, a low, pained noise at his torment.

"I'm not clean enough yet," You argue, looking down to meet his scarlet eyes.

You look at each other for a long moment, the heat of unsaid words crackling between you.

You want to beg, you're almost on the brink of it.

"I agree." Is all he says before he lowers his head again.

"Fuck-" You gasp, your back hitting the bed as your arm refuses to support your weight for any longer. 

His tongue is too dexterous, licking at your clit, and then dipping down to your entrance. He groans, tongue catching your arousal straight from the source.

Your toes curl, blissful orgasm near, your body tingles with the anticipation of your impending release.

You moan his name, putting every ounce of desperate desire into the one word.

He pulls away right when you're on edge.

The sound that leaves you is pitiful, tears of frustration spill from your eyes as you look up at him.

"I'll give you anything if you let me come."

"You know what I want." He says, licking his lips.

"Besides that," You try to bargain, "I'll blow you again, or I'll let you bite me." 

His smile is one of amusement, it makes you feel like a child, begging for something you're not going to get.

"I think we've already established that if I wanted those things, you wouldn't stop me. Even if you could."

You frown, letting out a sharp breath, fully understanding that he would not take pity on you tonight.

"Fine, asshole, I'll do it myself." You grunt, slipping from under him and sitting up with the intention of a shower.

He grips your bicep harshly to stop you. You grit your teeth angrily, unable to look into his eyes.

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

He pulls you closer, till his lips are pressed right to your ear again, your stomach flipping at his proximity.

"I'll tie you to the bed, and edge you till you forget your name. I'll use you like my own personal fleshlight and I'll never let you cum."

You hiss angrily, nether regions throbbing at his words and you tug your arm out of his grip.

"Fuck. You." Is your only reply as you head to the bathroom for the coldest shower possible.

.

After all of that, you sleep in bed beside him.

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Thought vampires didn't need sleep?" You ask, voice unsteady, having just woken up.

"We don't." He answers, looking down at you. 

Your eyes trace his scars, you want to touch them, ask him what happened.

"So why did you lie beside me all night?"

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away as you feel blood rush to your face.

"Will you tell me more about this…imprint?" You ask softly.

He makes a little sound of displeasure.

"It's not exactly an imprint- It’s like-" He lets out a low sigh.

"It sounds worse than it actually is, but- ugh- do you know what quantum entanglement is?"

"Do I look like a physicist?" You answer.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at your snark.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

"What entangles them?" You ask.

"Physical interaction, but, with people, it's a lot harder to explain because there's a lot that isn't understood. It can happen with anyone, but not everyone, and at a subconscious level, it has to be accepted by both."

"You're saying I chose this?"

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

"Feel me?" You press, hoping for him to elaborate.

He raises a hand, his knuckles carefully brush your cheek.

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

You blink, trying to figure out if you'd felt the same way. You had so many questions flying through your head and difficulty putting them into words.

“Is there any way to break it?”

You can almost feel the air go frigid between you.

“As far as I understand, nothing breaks the bond except dying.”

Great.

“And what happens if we stay together?”

“I’ve heard different things from different people.” He responds.

“Like what?” You ask, trying to think it through. You remember Ethan had mentioned that there was the prolonging of lives involved.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"I don't want to tell you what I'm not sure about. I have a friend, bonded to a human, maybe you can ask them whenever."

You swallow, nodding, trying not to fret over the possibility of more vampires.

Deep in thought, you blink in surprise when you feel his thumb brush over your cheek again. You look up at him in surprise.

"I have another question, but it's very personal."

"What is it?" 

You stall for a moment, studying the look in his eyes, the dark reflectiveness of them, the way you can almost see yourself in his eyes.

"Exactly how old are you?"

It changes the sour mood, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement before he gives you a fanged grin.

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

You huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to freak you out, and telling you my age is gonna freak you out."

Maybe he was right, maybe it was better that you didn't know.

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. He gets closer to you, fingers tracing over your cheek and down your neck, only stopping when they reach the healing bite on your shoulder.

Experimentally, he presses his thumb against the wound. You turn your head sharply to look at him, feeling the pain swim through your body but not reacting to it.

“Ow.” You say simply.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks quietly.

You smack his hand away, sitting up, your back to him.

“Why does it suddenly matter?” You jab, moving to dangle your feet off the side of the bed.

There’s a big silence, he doesn’t answer, and after a moment you’re forced to glance back to make sure he’s still there and hasn’t dissolved into the air because of you.

He’s looking at you, as if he somehow understands something about you that you don’t know about yourself.

“How many times have you been bitten?”

The question brings a laugh to your lips.

“Enough times that I'm used to it.”

“Does it hurt any less each time?”

You turn away, an amused and thoughtful smile rises to your face.

“Every time I get bitten, always hurts like the first time.” You say in finality, leaving the room soon after.

.

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You’d showered, looking at your reflection in the fogged mirror, trying to think clearly with so much frustration in your system. In the moment, you close your eyes, and recall the first time you’d ever fucked him.

It had been frantic at first, the way he’d used his tongue on you had your body begging for more, and you honestly thought you were going to die after you’d tried to kill him.

You’d put everything into it- savouring him because you wanted to seal yourself into his memory- if he was going to kill you by the end of it.

You’d gone pliant when he'd lined himself up with your entrance, and you can still remember the way your brain spiralled in surprise at the ridiculous amount of pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like that before.

Over and over again, you’d fucked till you could barely hold yourself up, till you’d been sitting on his lap, his hands gripping your hips to do all the work because you couldn’t even lift your head from the crook of his neck.

He’d been quiet, not like the second time, or even last night, when he was so vocal, the only thing you could compare it to was sin itself.

Your lower regions pulse. You can feel the heat between your thighs, begging for him, and the pleasure he gives regardless of how annoying he was.

It’s why you grab the dress at the bottom of the duffel bag to wear, deciding that you didn’t have to beg to get what you wanted. 

It was actually a really cute dress, blue, with little printed flowers all over it. Most importantly, it was short, only coming up to mid-thigh, which meant that if you bent over, he’d see the smallest scrap of lace you’d decided to call underwear today.

If he could play games, so would you.

.

He’s making breakfast when you step into the kitchen. It kind of amuses you, that he’s only cooking for you.

“Can I help?” You ask, stepping up beside him at the stove to look down at the omelette he’d been working at.

He glances at you, looks down at the stove, before blinking to look over at you once more.

You watch his jaw stiffen, you resist the urge to bite your lip as you watch his eyes trace down your body.

Oh, what power.

“Butter.” He says, “Fridge.”

You offer him a teasing smile, before turning away.

You bend unnecessarily, feeling your skirt rise up, cool air brushing the back of your thighs. 

The butter is on the middle shelf, making your bending completely unnecessary in the first place.

He's not looking at you when you turn around. You're not even sure if he's seen your little display.

He takes the butter from you without a word, and you're very intrigued by the way he cooks, the move of his wrist to flip the omelette.

"Can you get the bread toasted for me?"

How was he doing this? Being so calm and casual with you? Seeing this side of him was so much worse for your sanity than anything else. 

"You have bread?" You ask curiously, looking around, but not able to spot any.

"Yeah, here-" He steps away from the stove to reach into one of the overhead cupboards. You glance down at the pan on the stove, to make sure nothing is burning. The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

There were deep impressions of his fingers… caused by squeezing too hard.

Maybe he was more affected with your display than he let on.

You fight a satisfied smile, giving him a knowing look when he returns to place the bag of sliced bread into your hands.

"You bought all of this for me?" You tease, "I'm flattered."

He looks hot when he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I can’t let you starve.”

“Because you like me?” You pry, swaying your shoulders playfully from side to side.

He huffs, using the spatula to flip the finished omelette onto a nearby plate.

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head without looking at you.

It only urges you on, like a match, sparking as it rubs against coarse paper.

You brace your hands against his kitchen counter, stiffening your arms as you use your toes to push you into an effortless bounce, using the momentum to raise your body, sitting yourself on his counter, facing him.

He doesn’t look, simply preparing the pan for toast.

“Ah,” You tease, parting your thighs subtly, “So you don’t like me then.”

Yet still, he doesn’t respond, calmly observing the bread as it toasts, the smell of it in the air makes your mouth water a little.

But it’s not what you’re hungry for.

“Maybe you only think you like me because of how sweet my blood tastes. Maybe it’s all in your head-”

Your voice goes quiet when he finally pins you with a stern glare. 

His movements are decisive, turning the stove off, moving the pan away from the residual heat, and then turning to you.

Goddamn.

You gasp, raising a leg to back away from him while also making an attempt to push him back with your foot, but there’s nowhere for you to go, your head bumps a cupboard door, and that’s all the distraction he needs to grab your ankle.

You let out a little squeak, gasping as he pulls you forward and right up against his body, encouraging your legs to wrap around him.

You open your mouth to speak, to protest, to fight him in an unmeaningful way, but you don’t get the chance as his hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your mouth onto his.

God fucking damn.

Your eyes shut, your body relaxes, and then sings with delight as he delves his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth, unable to fight it, leaning in because it feels so good to have him. 

Fuck every part of you that told you this was wrong. You wanted him and nothing would stop you.

You grip his shirt in a tight fist, leaning in, meeting his mouth with an undeniable force. He presses back, and for a moment you feel so blissfully wanted, maybe more than you’d ever been before.

Only when his hand weaves into your hair, his fist tightening to hold your head in place as he leans away, do you remember the taunting remarks that got you here.

Your scalp stings, mouth falling open to gasp in air.

His eyes are dark red, like the blood he drinks to stay alive.

He doesn’t speak, releasing your hair to support your behind as he lifts you off the counter, moving quickly with your body pressed to his.

Your vision shifts too fast for comprehension, and the next thing you can process is lying face down across the marble kitchen island.

He grips the back of your head to keep you there, warm cheek to frigid marble and you stay, refusing to move, wishing that he takes in this moment, everything that you’re willing to give.

He leans over your body, until his mouth is pressed to your ear.

“Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

He’s not done ranting, continuing on as if he doesn’t care for your answers.

“I know you just said that to get a rise out of me, but the very idea of me only wanting your for your blood- makes me fucking sick.”

He leans in even more, taking a deep breath in the space of your neck.

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

He leans away a little.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? When you put on this little dress and flashed that cunt at me?”

He moves away even more, and the next thing you feel is him pushing your dress up, his hand pressed securely to the small of your back so that you can’t raise your body.

He's still for a moment, and so are you, burning with anticipation, your cunt getting wetter by the second.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his nose graze the back of your thigh.

You shudder, feeling his breath along your most sensitive areas, your skin tingles as he runs his nose upward, your hands curl into fists beside your head when you feel a small puff of air against your skin.

He’s still for so long that you find your body tense with anticipation, biting down on your bottom lip hard so that you don’t beg him to just put you out of your sordid misery. 

You make a small mewling sound of surprise when you feel his tongue lick along the lace gusset of your panties. 

He tugs at the scrap of fabric, pulling it away from the tacky seam of your cunt so that he can get a better look, an uninhibited view of your desire.

You want to say his name, so badly that you can feel the resonant sound of it in the back of your throat. Instead, you repeat it in your head.

Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

“I can’t believe how fucking messy this cunt gets. All for me.” He says softly, as if you’re not meant to hear but you do anyway.

“Such a fucking shame that you won’t beg. The things I want to do to you, the ways I want to make you cum.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting hard against the kitchen counter, your inner walls fluttering, begging. 

“Fucking tease.” He breathes out, as he watches more arousal spill from between your thighs.

Billy, please-

Your gasp gets caught in your throat as his tongue licks a wet trail from your clit to your entrance.

“Fuck- didn’t mean to do that but I can’t help it.” Is all he says before his tongue starts licking you slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head and stays there permanently for a few seconds. The flood of bliss is almost too much for your body to manage.

He grunts, his hands gripping your thighs to spread your legs further apart.

His tongue is forceful as it dances over your clit, and then, after what you assume is a moment of contemplation, you feel his tongue push its way against your entrance.

Your breathing is sharp and shallow, you reach to grip the other edge of the counter, trying to get some leverage to remain sane.

The pleasure is shallow, but your body is hypersensitive with denial, his tongue fucking into you at a reasonable pace is almost enough to have your breath stalling in your throat.

When he finally gets control of himself, his tongue slows, carefully licking you, daring your body to think about orgasm.

After a few more moments, he raises his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief, your body releasing the tension of pleasure, your hands relaxing its grip on the marble countertop.

But you should have known better than to think he was done with you, not satisfied until you know for sure that you’ve lost this interaction.

His hands on your hips, gripping them as he turns you over, pulling you up into a sitting position.

Nose to nose, you look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze.

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

You sigh, pressing your cheek into his palm and closing your eyes.

“Say it for me. What do I want?” He asks.

You breathe out a huff, an unknown emotion squeezing your throat tightly.

“Me.” You whisper softly, eyes still shut to avoid his gaze.

He doesn’t mind, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Good girl.”

And then he’s gone- right back to toasting bread, as if nothing had ever happened.

It almost drives you insane.

.

.

.

Happy Halloween!

[theshyspy]

chiquitita - h.s

summary: your best friend figures out you’re not doing to well and and does something sweet to cheer you up. Friends to lovers???? I’m not sure but that’s what I picture lol

warning: not directly, but mentions depression and a teeny panic attack. Also, tumblr deletes random paragraphs and I don’t even know which anymore so if something feels like it’s missing,,,, its probably that

a/n: I wrote this when I was feeling kinda low and didn’t know who to turn to. It comforted me, and maybe it can comfort you a little too. If you need someone to talk to, please don’t hesitate to reach out and we’ll be there for each other💕,

(please reblog and interact with this fic and me if you enjoy it, i can't express how much it means and helps me keep writing and making fics!!!!)

Check out my masterlist!✨

You were tired.

At least that was the answer slipping off you tongue whenever you were asked. The longer version consisted of loneliness and all-consuming dread crippling through you. Like a shadow, it creeped after you everywhere, refusing to leave your side.

Unable to grasp how much longer you could keep going, a part of you longed for someone to pick up on the subtle signs that something was off. To see through the rehearsed smile plastered on your face as your cheeks tinted with red and soft mascara stains rested underneath your exhausted eyes.

But it left you feeling smaller, so insignificant as no one uttered a slight concern.

Shutting the door behind you, a sigh fled your lips as your frame moved further into the hallway. I need to clean, you muttered, glancing at the pile of shoes scattred in front of the entryway.

you couldn’t help how pathetic you felt as your heart sank in your chest. Frustrated over your inability to let the flat look decent, you scoffed mockingly as your head flung backwards. The last time you made your bed was nothing but a faint memory, and you despised what you were turning into. A lazy, unmotivated shell of yourself fighting breakdowns like it was the only thing you knew how to do.

With a heavy heart and a knot tied in your stomach, you moved through the dirty living-room and threw yourself down on the couch. Turning your gaze away from the coffee-table in front of you, you let out a shaky breath. Take-out boxes were scattered around, used mugs decorating the few empty spaces around them. you couldn’t bear to look at it, the mess eating at the itty bits of self-respect left in you.

The silence echoing through the apartment rang in your ears, forcing you to turn around in search for the TV remote. Finding it, you let the first program playing on the screen be the night's background noise.

Sucking in a shaky breath, your cold palms pressed against your burning eyelids. Nerves were creeping up your spine, worsening the throbbing in your chest and the sickening feeling resting in your stomach. you bit the inside of your cheek, anything to keep the trembling of your lips in check.

You dug your fingertips into your skull, letting out a harsh whimper as the impact stung. Only to continue.

Every muscle in your jaw was clenched, brows furrowed as you tried to soothe the burning sensation crawling up your throat.

It was ridiculous really. you could so easily move into the kitchen and get the trash-can, throw away the litter covering the flat surfaces and one of the problems would be gone. It demanded ten minutes at most.

But you didn’t.

You just rolled over in agony, trying to calm the heaving of your chest and ease the lump burning in your throat.

It was spiralling, and you knew that if your focus weren’t changed soon, you’d end up bawling and heaving on the floor.

Turning around again, you pressed your hot cheek into the throw-pillow underneath you and forced your eyes to the cartoon playing on the tv.

There wasn't a clue in your mind as to how long you laid like that as the empty feeling returned to your chest. No matter how much you disliked that feeling, you hated the other one more.

Pushing yourself to an upright position, you let your weight rest on one arm as you gazed out the window. The sun that casted light over your furniture had set, replaced with the soft glow of moonlight.

Your eyes widened in surprise as a soft knock echoed through the apartment. But instead of getting up and opening, you sat quietly plastered in the same spot and let your leg bounce hastily.

Hating the idea of anyone seeing the state you was in, you ignored the second, harder knock and took a deep breath.

“Sweetie, I know you’re home,” the voice, recognised as Harry, said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

A small knot tied in your stomach as you pressed your palms against the hood of your eyes.

Recently, every plan you’d made was cancelled. Your excuses short and consisting of promises that you’d do it later– which you never did. Of course it had nothing to do with him. He was your safe place, magically easing your mind whenever around.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. The whole “dealing with mental-illness” situation was rather embarrassing, you thought. Everyone else had their shit together, and there was nothing more humiliating than seeing your peers reach the goals you sat for yourself as every step you took led you the wrong direction.

You were well aware he’d see right through the fake smiles plastered on your face, and you just couldn't deal with it. Not right now.

“Please.” His tone was gentle, almost coating the concern laced through the words of the soft plea.

The rawness in his voice was easy to detect, even through the door and you couldn’t help how it tugged at your heart.

“… I even brought those cinnamon rolls you like so much,” he tempted.

Conscience eating at you, you forced yourself up from the seat. The overwhelming mixture of feelings running wild inside your chest introduced itself as a heavy lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry, H. I’m just not well right now,” you voiced carefully, hoping the white lie would convince him to come back later.

“I can deal with a little flu.”

You were almost surprised over how bad your walls and door were at blocking out noise.

“No, I think I might have covid or something.” For credibility you let out a few coughs, praying it would be enough for him to buy it.

The silence swept over you again, and for a second your heart sank. As much as you wanted to be by yourself and deal with the mess of your home alone, you really didn’t want to be left alone. And the simple thought of him believing your lie and leaving (with the cinnamon-rolls, if you might add), wasn’t as soothing as you presumed.

“You know I love you, but that was the worst fake-cough I’ve ever heard.”

You couldn't stop the laugh slipping off your lips. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He turned quiet again, as if just listening to your laugh before he spoke again. “I’m not gonna stay long if you don’t want me to, I promise, I just need to see you.”

Biting your lip, you let out a shaky breath and placed your hand on the handle. Unlocking, you pushed the crack open enough for your head to stick out.

The soft glow above him casted shadows down his frame, but you could still tell how he relaxed under your gaze. His muscles unflexing as he quirked his lips upwards in relife.

“Honestly, did you open for me or the cinnamon rolls?”

Chortling, you rolled your eyes and answered. “How could you even ask that? The cinnamon rolls, obviously.”

“Of course, stupid question.”

He couldn’t help but notice how tired you looked as he drank in your appearance. Dark bags resting under your eyes, hair greasy and nails bitten down. It was a stark contrast to his rested, sun kissed frame.

Getting self-conscious under the weight of his eyes, you bit your lip and played with the hem of your top.

“I’d invite you in, but everything's a mess.” you said, a tight smile resting on your lips as the lump in your throat grew.

There was no one in the world you was more comfortable around than him, but having even him seeing space was nothing but humiliating. You were supposed to be able to throw away used napkins and put your plates in the dishwayour. To fold your dry laundry within a week of it being done.

But you wasn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and it only made you feel worse.

“I’ll help you clean.”

Glancing back up at him, he smiled sympathetically as his free hand brushed away the loose strands on his forehead.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Yes you can,” he argued, folding his arms and letting them rest over his chest.

“I’m not gonna let you keep shutting me out.” His voice was so gentle, silky in your ears as you felt it tug at your heart.

Looking away, you bit the insides of your cheek in a desperate attempt to ease the stinging behind your eyes. You couldn’t grasp how badly you’d craved the softness of his words until he spoke them. It was nothing like how your own words had sounded recently.

“Okay?”

Nodding, you glanced up at him through glossy eyes.

In no time, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. One hand gently pressing your head against his chest, his chin resting on top of your hair as the other hand stroked your back.

You screwed your eyes shut, the loving touch forcing out a strangled sob. The soft fabric of his shirt rubbed against your skin, and the hot tears streaming down your cheeks damped it.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

His words were careful, yet fell off his lips so effortlessly. Sounding like a promise he was determined to keep no matter what.

Softly, he pressed his lips against the top of your head as he let his hand stroke your hair. The simple motion was soothing, calming your hyper breathing.

“Let’s get you inside, eh?”

“Mhm,” you muttered reluctantly. Still not fond of the idea, but rather having that than her neighbours watch your breakdown.

Gently pushing yourself out of his hold, you lifted a shaky hand and dried the tears on your cheeks.

You were the first to move inside to the small hallway. Standing hesitantly, and watching as he took off his shoes and hung his coat.

The hall looked okay. What didn’t look okay however, was the rest of the space.

You could feel how your hands started shaking, slight movement that was barely noticeable as the nerves crawled up your throat again. Your stomach turned and you almost got nauseous just by predicting his reaction.

You followed reluctantly as he led the way. You didn’t know which was worse, not being able to see his reaction or actually seeing it. Either way, his broad shoulders tensed as he let the sight of your living room sink in.

Embarrassment bubbled over, and it was an automatic response as apologies and self-deprecating comments spewed out of you.

He turned around, a gentle expression painted across his features as he interrupted you. “I know how much you feel like you need to apologise for this, but I promise you you don’t. No matter how much you want to, I’m never gonna let you apologise for not being okay.”

You looked away and crossed your arms over your chest, feeling small under his gaze.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders once again. His scent familiar and calming as you breathed him in, resting against him.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, okay?”

You simply nodded against him as he kissed the side of your head.

“I could fall asleep like this,” you muttered quietly against him, feeling more relaxed than you had in awhile. The motion of his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder blades, slowing your breath.

He squeezed you harder before speaking jokingly. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you go to your room then, you look like you could use the rest.”

“Gee, thanks Harry you sure know how to make someone feel special.”

He vibrated against you as his chuckle played through your ears. Letting the sound register, you started realising how much you’d missed the sound of his voice.

“But I am serious though, have you gotten enough sleep?”

“Perhaps not the ideal amount, but I’m fine and manage.”

“Right, that’s a no then.”

In a swift motion, you were thrown over his shoulder as he made the way over to your bedroom. The squirming to get out of his hold, having no effect on him.

Laughter was playing through the flat as he threw you down on the unmade bed. Your expression mirrored as he looked down at you with a smile resting on his lips.

“Will you at least keep me company till I fall asleep?”

“Thought you would never ask,” he said, throwing himself down at the empty space next to you.

Your back clung to his torso as his fingers ran across the bare skin on your arms. Goosebumps travelled up your spine, a natural reaction to his warm breath fanning the back of your neck.

You didn’t know how long it took, but as soft humming played through your ears you drifted to a long needed, peaceful sleep.

- - - -

“Nice of you to join me.” He greeted, a grin on his lips as he watched your wide-eyed reaction.

“You did all of this?” Your voice faltered as you gestured aimlessly at the room, letting your surroundings sink in. The floor was spotless underneath him and the table previously littered with take-out boxes, was only filled with the simple decorations you’d placed there.

“I don’t know what to say.”

From what you could see of the kitchen behind him, the countertops were shining and the dishwayour let out steam from a fresh wash.

“It’s too much, Harry.” you lifted your hand and held it in front of your agape mouth.

“Too much? It feels like too little-” he shook his head, “-you’ve been going through so much and I haven’t even been there for you.”

You stepped forward, arms wrapped around his torso as you looked up at him. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, and you couldn’t help how your conscience weighed in your chest.

“Please don’t say that.” The desperation in your voice was clear as you hated the way your actions had affected him. “I was the one who shut you out.”

“I just feel like I should’ve tried harder.”

“But you’re here now and you’ve done so much-” you glanced out in the room again. “-I don’t even know how to thank you.”

You lifted your face, looking back up at him.

“I’m never gonna let you shut me out again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He pulled you closer, a warm smile on his lips. The content sensation in your chest telling you he’d keep that promise.

-

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[ackerfics]

yellow — levi ackerman.

— levi ackerman x female reader (wizarding world au | harry potter au)

— warnings: none <3 just fluff

— summary: it’s the day of the ball and a special day at that. one that levi never paid attention to until this year. it’s a day filled with wishing he never took his first breath if it meant his mother’s last when he did. it’s a day of white lilies and the arctic chill of winter wonderlands. a day painted in death. that was until she painted everything yellow.

— word count: 7.5k

— notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEVI ^^ this fic is inspired by two asks who were requesting for an hp au with our beloved captain. it’s been a while since i’ve written something that reminds me of sleepless nights and nostalgia. i tried writing on a different route this time, mainly using levi’s point of view for the entire fic, with some insights on reader here and there. alsooo, my friend told me i give off ravenclaw vibes even tho i was sorted in gryffindor in pottermore so i feel like i connect with the house of blue and bronze more thru this fic.

side note, this is the dress i referenced, i had a hard time finding dress of that aesthetic but everything was worth it in the end because i found one. plus, i’m actually nervous about this one but to hell with it ^^ nonetheless, i hope you enjoy reading this !! consider this as my christmas gift to you. merry christmas, everyone!

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated !! <3 | my masterlist

repost because tumblr is not my friend rn.

Yellow.

Levi doesn’t have a favourite colour — it’s something he never paid attention to while growing up. If someone were to ask him what he likes during cold days, he’d answer the bitter tang of black tea in a heartbeat. He can easily blurt out the candy his best friends always buys from Honeydukes (apparently, Erwin likes sugar quills just as much as the next wizard roaming in Hogwarts and Farlan adores chocolate frogs, saying that they’re hilarious to eat). Every single memory he created in the castle’s walls remained intact inside Levi’s mind, a vault of precious reels that sometimes play in a loop even when he’s trying so hard to pay attention to the Transfiguration spells McGonagall rapidly fires at their class. There are so many things he can list but he always falls short on one single thing — a fact so vital that some might even say it’s related to one’s personality trait. But Levi doesn’t care. He doesn’t get how someone’s first question in getting to know his character connects to what colour he strongly prefers.

Shades of yellow burst like splatters of paint in his vision.

Yeah, Levi doesn’t have one of those.

If one is part of the most notable pureblood families that became nearly extinct after Voldemort came into power all those years ago, it was expected that choosing a favourite colour became the least of his worries. When someone in search of strong allies comes for the remaining Ackerman wizards on the face of Europe, Levi never had time to think of childhood. His only surviving kin, an uncle by the name of Kenny the Ripper (a ruthless adversary to dark wizards), took him and his cousin under his wing and hid them in places not even the Death Eaters could chase after them. When they were old enough to be placed in Hogwarts, that was the time Kenny disappeared from the planet, never to be heard of again — like he was waiting for the time to get the brats from his hands. He was always saying that Hogwarts was the safest place for runts like them, though he had to wait two years to place Mikasa in the same place he left Levi.

Bullshit is Levi’s take on the matter.

How can he be safe when the fucking Chosen One goes to the same school as him? Even in the same year as his little cousin?

However, having a favourite colour is slowly materialising in front of him in the form of an unlikely individual.

“Is this seat taken?”

A third-year Levi looked up from making another sentence about Shrinking Solutions at a girl with a cheery disposition, who was carrying too many books in her arms. Levi had to squint to prevent himself from being blinded at her smile. It reminded him of the stars, the evening star to be exact. Judging from the books she was holding, she must be another Hufflepuff he didn’t know belonged in his year. After realising that he was staring at her for a good amount of time, Levi quickly looked down on his homework and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her brighten immensely as if she was meant to shine.

“Thank Godric this spot is available. Who knows where I’d have to study if it weren’t.”

Levi discreetly glanced at her. His hand was still poised as if he was writing something, hoping that the girl was too busy organising her things to notice that he had long stopped finishing his paragraph. He had seen her a couple of times while passing the hallways to and from classes. She was always with that rambunctious brown-haired bespectacled person that never seemed to run out of conversation-starters. Now that she placed the books carefully around her spot on the long table, Levi picked up the noticeable shade of celestial blue in her tie.

Ravenclaw.

The House of human potential and wit beyond measure.

But what made Levi completely turn his head to her was the bright sunflower hair tie keeping her hair in a ponytail. Not to be someone who thinks of House stereotypes but finding something completely eye-catching like a sunflower hair tie on anyone that isn’t Hufflepuff painted Levi in bewilderment. Plus, he never knew her or her personality trait. It was just bizarre yet it fits her for some reason.

“Wait, is that Snape’s assigned homework?”

Levi met distinctly-colored eyes and briefly wondered if the overhead lights made her irises shine out of nowhere. He shook himself out of his stupor as the girl raised her eyebrow in curiosity. “I’m sorry,” Levi apologised with a slight shake of his head. “You were saying?”

She chuckled a bit. “What you’re writing on the parchment, it’s for Snape’s paper about Shrinking Solutions, right?”

It was a breath of fresh air. Finally, someone who wasn’t intimidated by the Ackerman name. He knew of his family’s reputation in the Wizarding World, some might say they never belonged to one House unlike other pureblood families or they’re too versed in their fields that they come off as unapproachable. For this particular girl, Levi was slightly shocked that she continued to start a conversation as if he’s a normal student without nobility as his last name.

“Yeah,” Levi found himself nodding, voice still barely a whisper. His eyes tore from her smile to the unfinished words on his parchment.

She sighed indignantly. “I never comprehend how Professor Snape just dumps this on our plates. The number of inches he requires for our essay doesn’t help either. The other unfinished essays on my part are begging to be written now that he assigned this to us.”

Levi nodded wordlessly. “It’s a pile of bullshit.”

“I know, right? Snape never has any mercy on those who aren’t Slytherin. I don’t remember Professor Flitwick favouring a whole class of us once in my life here.”

“Hmm.”

The onyx-haired boy never once looked up from his parchment. Upon hearing that she’s started writing, Levi inwardly let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t like any human interaction at the moment, seeing as he had a deadline to race. He hadn’t gotten past the halfway point of this essay. Taking a book from his pile, he opened to the many uses of Shrinking Solutions, choosing to elaborate on a specific point and hope that Snape would look past the flowery words that he was planning to write and give him a deserving mark. Now that he was slowly losing his touch with reality, Levi let the scratching of his quill flow around him as every word burst into life on his parchment. He could faintly hear someone flipping through a book beside him, also subjecting themselves to productivity. Levi was glad that this Ravenclaw was mindful enough to let them work in peace.

It was pretty uneventful. Minutes turned into hours as Levi finally placed a period in his last sentence. He expelled a breath, feeling the burden on his shoulders lessening as he stretched his arms above his head. One down, too many to go. He had to study for impromptu quizzes set for the following week, plus, he volunteered to help Professor Kettleburn with feeding the animals. With a final sigh, Levi stood up from his seat and tidied his things into his knapsack. The lack of movement in the seat next to him made him stop.

The girl was sleeping over her parchment, folded arms supporting her head. It looked like she had already finished her assignment. Fucking Ravenclaws and their innate talent of making schoolwork look like a piece of cake. An occasional hum came from her and Levi looked around the library to check if somebody heard her snoring. To their luck, the library was empty save for the two of them.

Without thinking about it, Levi gingerly shook her shoulder. “Hey, sunflower, wake up. It’s nearing dinner.” She only shrugged his hand off her shoulder. Levi tried again. “Sunflower.” He shook her shoulder harder albeit still gentle so as not to startle her. “Bloody hell.” Why did he even think this was a good idea — waking her up. She slept like a log. After a couple of attempts, Sunflower finally stirred from her slumber, her eyes squeezing shut before blinking up at an unimpressed Levi. “Good fucking morning, yellow,” he greeted her dryly.

“Yellow?” she murmured groggily, mind still in a drowsy haze as he lifted her head from her arms.

Levi merely rolled his eyes before fixing his knapsack over his shoulders and started making his way to the huge double doors of the library.

The girl was left baffled at the lack of response, her gaze following the onyx-haired wizard out of the library. With that, the Ravenclaw witch finally had her first encounter with the famed Ackerman. Of course, she was curious about him back when they were first years. He always kept to himself most of the time with that brooding expression of his that only rewarded him of one friend his entire stay in Hogwarts (if people could count the relentless pestering he got from one of her Housemates, Farlan Church, as a pact of friendship). Still, she wondered what compelled him to actually speak some words to her, even calling her nicknames (even though the reason was that he doesn’t know her name). Again, the Ravenclaw found herself looking at the huge clock on the library wall. With a start, she stood up and frantically shoved all her borrowed books and parchment into her shoulder bag. Hange would start worrying about her if she entered the Great Hall a minute late for dinner.

“Oh, bollocks, I hope Hange saved me a seat at the table,” she kept muttering until she went out of the chamber.

The next day, Levi got himself a gift from a Ravenclaw boy he knew to be Farlan. He was saying that Levi’s a lucky guy for getting a packet of sweets from one of the prettiest girls in their year, something Levi brushed off with a dismissive wave. It was a small package of sugar cookies from the breakfast earlier that day. It was a dainty gift, something he didn’t mind unless he had his tea with him. What surprised him, however, was the small note hanging from the mouth of the bag.

Thank you for waking me up in time for dinner.

— Yellow

Levi still has the note to this day and he is fucking ashamed of himself for keeping it.

It’s ironic how that nickname stuck when he’s the Hufflepuff one.

He didn’t even know her name at that time.

“Guess we’re partners today.”

For some reason, Snape partnered Levi with Yellow, the girl he woke up in the library a year prior. For their Potions class, they were assigned to learn and make Skele-gro for the day. Levi never comprehended how the Slytherin Head took it upon himself to warn them about the curriculum, how this year was supposed to be for researching poison antidotes before Christmas strikes across the castle. Great, he had to avoid a close encounter with death for his birthday. The potion they were trying to master for the day was just the start of another hectic year under the pointy nose of the dingbat that is Severus Snape. As he was about to flip through the section for Skele-gro, the chair beside him familiarly screeched.

Like deja vu, Levi looked up to the smiling Ravenclaw he nicknamed Yellow.

Levi only hummed and nodded with a blank expression plastered on his face, going back to his skimming. The girl made herself comfortable at his desk, also opening her book to where the detailed recipe for Skele-gro was etched on. He never missed how she kept glancing at him with curious eyes. It was making his skin itch, his temples tingling at the eye contact.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask, not looking up from reading through the list of ingredients.

“[Name] [Last Name],” Yellow casually supplied.

Levi flickered his eyes to her brilliant ones.

At his furrowed brows, she cleared up, “Thought you didn’t hear it when Professor Snape called for our names, which is why I transferred to your desk. Plus, I never introduced myself in the library last year. It’s just common courtesy since I have an idea of who you are.”

Levi raised an eyebrow, a sneer pulling on his face. “Oh, yeah? Care to tell me what rumour you heard to have an idea about me?” He was expecting something about his uncle or family, how he was practically an orphan like the Chosen One who just entered this year since his said uncle vanished from the face of the planet. He was also expecting along the lines of him being the coldest Hufflepuff, how it was a miracle that such a rude-looking individual got the Sorting Hat shouting Hufflepuff at the top of its lungs (if it had any).

Yellow (he was going to keep calling her that, seeing as she now has a bright dandelion yellow ribbon tying her hair in a low half ponytail) returned the gesture of raising her eyebrow, surprised at the guarded expression on her classmate’s face. She tilted her head, akin to a dog. “I heard your name in the halls too often the past weeks. You’re the top scorer in the last Quidditch game, yes? The one who gave Hufflepuff their win. Some are saying that you’re to thank for having Hufflepuff a place higher than Ravenclaw in the Inter-House.”

Her tone didn’t indicate any bitterness. For the first time in his life, somebody took Levi by surprise. Of course, people were talking about how Hufflepuff dragged Ravenclaw to the ground with a huge point difference. Levi never thought that his points mattered, it was Diggory’s job as their Seeker to win the game. Levi’s voice wavered as he uttered, “Uh, I-I see.” He turned back to his book, cheeks starting to warm.

Yellow giggled before clapping her hands together. “Let’s gather the ingredients, shall we, Mr. Ackerman?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you then?”

“I have a name, you know. If you keep calling me that, you’re going to sound like McGonagall when she’s trying to make me speak in class.”

She laughed — a pleasant sound, much to Levi’s surprise. “Well, Levi, can you help me gather the ingredients for this potion?”

Levi blinked at her before standing up from his seat. “Let’s go, then.” When he registered that she wasn’t following him, he turned his head to find her staring at him with a small smile. “Oi, hurry up, Yellow, we don’t have all day.”

“I’m coming! Hey, wait up.”

“You’re too slow. We’re going to run out of the good ones with your pace, you know.”

“Making potions doesn’t have anything to do with how bad an ingredient is. You just have to make sure you know how to adapt when you have one.”

“You Ravenclaws and your idiotic reasonings.”

“Hey! I take great offence to that!”

“Good.”

She sputtered and Levi had to prevent a small smile from surfacing.

The girl named [Name] ignites so many emotions inside him that he thought was impossible. She manages to make him feel everything all at once with one look at her. All it takes is one look and he’s falling deeper into a pit that he has no clue of. The fourth year was spring, the fifth year was the catalyst.

Levi’s heart was pounding.

This can’t be happening. Why the fuck was this happening in the first place? Who in their right mind would put a fucking threat inside Hogwarts?

Levi swore his heart stopped when Hange, [Name]’s best friend, came barreling towards him in the middle of the hallway. He was talking to Erwin, a Slytherin Prefect who he was once cautious of because of his unnerving way of approaching people. (“Levi Ackerman, correct? Would you dedicate your heart to fight for what’s right in this battle between light and dark?”) Erwin was in the middle of telling Levi of this muggle contraption, something called a flashlight, when Hange stopped in front of them while shouting for Levi. He remembered Hange panting as if all air was sucked from their body, hands on their knees as they crouched. Their glasses were askew when they lifted their head, their next words dousing Levi in the freezing waters of the polar tundras.

“[N-Name], s-she,” Hange panted before continuing, “she’s petrified!”

Levi wasted no time in racing towards the Hospital Wing. He could hear Hange’s feet padding behind him but all he could think about was Yellow. He knew she wasn’t of pureblood, with her parents being from one of the other. It was a fact that was randomly brought out during one of their late-night talk sessions in the Astronomy Tower. Perks of being Hufflepuff’s Prefect. Levi cursed himself for thinking about those nights when she needed him in the Hospital Wing. His mind came to a blank slate when he asked himself what help could he give to her, to Madam Pomfrey and the professors concocting a cure for the petrified victims. With a fervent shake of his head, Levi ran even faster. Enough of the doubts. Yellow needed him right fucking now. She was petrified for fuck’s sake.

The condition of the Hospital Wing was heart-wrenching. Students were occupying the bedside of those who were affected by the petrification. From what Levi could recall, the last victims were Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater. If it wasn’t him, Hange was by her side or someone from her House if the former was too busy with their experiments. How come Yellow was petrified, too?

“Madam Pomfrey,” Levi called out.

The matron of Hogwarts turned around. “Mr. Ackerman, this way. Thank you for bringing him here, Hange.”

“No problem, Madam Pomfrey,” Hange answered. “[Name] would want it that way.”

Levi paused when he reached the bedside of his closest friend. What was causing these petrifications? Mindlessly, the onyx-haired boy gently ran his fingers on [Name]’s arm. From what Levi could tell, she was petrified when she was walking, head tilted to a certain direction, most likely the reflective surface she was staring at while the unknown culprit poised for the kill. His hand crept higher until he could feel the chill coming from her frozen face. Levi’s eyes drooped in regret for not being there with her. Curse their unaligned schedules this year. His fingers traced flowers on her skin, a message travelling from his fingertips, begging for her to wake up and come back to him. His chest was pinching now and then, jaw clenched and other hand curled in a tight fist.

“Don’t blame yourself, Levi,” Hange’s voice resounded from somewhere.

Levi never took his gaze from [Name]. “Why her?”

“Nobody knows the reason why the other students got petrified as well.”

“Yeah, but why her? She’s not even remotely close to the three idiots.”

“The others are not close to them, too, Levi.”

“I know,” Levi gritted. “But if that Potter kid doesn’t do anything about this, he’s going to know real hexes before he moves up another year.”

“Levi,” Hange whispered. “They’re right there on the other side of the room.”

Levi turned around and faced the direction where Potter and that redhead friend of his were situated. “Oi, Potter,” his voice boomed across the Hospital Wing. He saw how the said boy flinched at the threatening utterance of his name. Their eyes were wide when they knew of the person who called them. Levi wasn’t exactly a nice person to others despite being a Hufflepuff. The most they saw him smile was probably with the girl he was visiting. “If you don’t put a stop on this fucking shitshow, expect getting your arse kicked not only in Quidditch.” He didn’t care that the other occupants in the Hospital Wing stared at him as if they caught him cheating on a Quidditch game. “Not to put pressure on you but ever since last year, you earned quite a reputation in Hogwarts. You’re the only one who can stop this.”

That was Levi’s first interaction with the Chosen One.

“Levi, that was pretty harsh,” Hange stage-whispered with their hand covering their mouth.

Levi scoffed. “Harsh? That kid has a lot on his plate. I’m pretty sure he can handle a few blunt remarks here and there.”

“[Name] will be mad at you when she wakes up.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It’s safe to say that when Yellow woke up, not only did she paint his world with that colour, she also made sure to berate Levi for threatening a junior like that. It was pretty worth it actually because Levi finally heard her voice. His day was not the same without her voice twinkling like a fairy’s. So, when they were in their nightly meeting place, Levi leaned his head against hers as she talked his ear off, giving him his most peaceful rest in the entirety of his life.

“People often see Ravenclaws too shallowly.”

“Oh?” Levi murmured against her hair, breathing in the scent of her fruity shampoo, and shoulders touching while the stars looked on the two rumoured lovers.

[Name]’s fingers trailed over the yellowed pages of the book she borrowed from the library. This night was about mermaids, sirens, and their in-depth history. Creatures so magical that it enticed her while roaming around the library for hours on end just looking for the reference book containing the spells Professor McGonagall assigned for the entire class to study. The practical examination would have to wait if it meant quenching her curiosity. She was at the part where there was more than one kind of the alluring sea mystics, having stopped on the page that depicted the mermaids Muggle fairy tales usually described. The illustration of the flowy locks of hair and iridescent fins spurred the discussion unfolding at the moment.

The smile on her face was like the first effect of Amortentia on Levi.

“Care to tell me what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?” Levi asked, taking one of her hands to draw random patterns that mimicked the mermaids’ hair in the book.

“Smart. Quick-witted. Wise. Those are usually the words associated with our House. It’s sometimes linked to the shut-in bookworms.” Her voice was so soft that Levi had to lessen their distance until her breath could be felt on his skin. It was doing wonders to his pattering heart, but he chose to swallow the rising flower petals in his throat and let the waves of friendship wash over him. His heart lurched when he felt her dainty fingers tap his fingertips. She continued telling him with a light chuckle, “I like to think we’re more than that.”

Levi tilted his head. The moonlight washing over her figure outlined her hair glow a beautiful silver. The blessing of the Moon granted her miniature stars on her eyelashes.

“People forget that the human mind is capable of many things — that there is more than what meets the eye. Logic and reasoning are not the only things that bind us as a House. Yes, we have the smartest students in our dormitories but if we were driven mostly by facts, Hermione Granger should be a Ravenclaw.” Yellow buried her face more in her scarf, embarrassed that she said the last statement. She heard Levi laugh through his nose beside her, an indication that he agreed. “Nevertheless, I personally think that Ravenclaw is the House of the Arts and seeing life in curiosity. We explore the capacity of the human mind just as much as Gryffindors explore the tangible world. Within the human mind comes creativity, which births music, art, literature, and magic. It’s quite sad when I hear people refer to us as the dorks, that we’re incapable of looking up from our books.”

“You’re a dreamer in my eyes.” Levi lowered his voice even though it was only the two of them in one section of the Astronomy Tower. A look of surprise flashed on her face as their gazes met. “From what I can gather, not only are you and your Housemates the most formidable people I know, you Ravenclaws carry the stars inside you. And for me, you carry the brightest one in the entire galaxy.”

The splashes of yellow created a symphony of first love.

A graceful smile pulled on [Name]’s lips. “And you’re an adventurer in my eyes.”

Levi imperceptibly narrowed his eyes. “I think you mixed me with the wrong House, Yellow.”

One of his favourite sounds rang true in the chamber. The remnants of her laugh remained as a huge smile as she said, “An adventure for the sake of an adventure, that’s what you are.” At the curious raise of his eyebrow, [Name] elaborated. “There are adventurers who let their purpose be driven by knowledge, glory, and power, but, Vi, you go out to explore the world simply because you have the heart and courage to do it without a goal in mind. You value the things you find along the way, having no regrets and being proud of doing the right things no matter how small they are. You let your heart guide you and I know that’s the most amazing trait a person could ever have. And you have it, every single day when I’m with you. You’re shamelessly human and I think that’s the most beautiful thing ever, Levi.”

The pink on Levi’s cheeks travelled towards his ears, heating his face until he could feel his entire body ignite like a furnace. [Name] had no idea the effects she had on him. The beat of his heart became too loud that he feared she might hear it as well. There’s no doubt that he was looking at her like she had the entire universe painted on her body. Every word went straight to his heart as if Cupid had a good time launching a multitude of arrows in his direction.

What a fucking pulchritudinous person. And she had him speechless.

[Name]’s face twisted in concern at his silence. “Did I say too much?” She tended to overshare things, sometimes over-analyze some of her friends to the point of distancing.

Levi blinked. “N-No, you’re—”

She looked away from him with a sheepish laugh. “Prying, I know.”

His hand cupped her cheek in the most gentle way possible like she was the most fragile thing to ever exist on the planet. Which she was starting to become to him. Her wonder was something he vowed to protect. He slowly placed his forehead against hers, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “You’re,” he breathed before gulping, “absolutely brilliant.”

“You’ve said that a hundred times since we met, Vi. Well, since last year because you’re so quiet when we were in our third or fourth years.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it. You have a way with things and words that makes me feel so … at home.” He was about to say his feelings outright but good thing he caught himself before blurting everything out in the open. “I don’t know how to explain it.” Oh, he did. The courage bestowed by his House vanished in thin air. “But you are so amazing that I can’t help but think you’re way out of my league.”

“I should be the one to say that,” she retaliated. “Have you heard of what they say about you?”

A glint of amusement sparkled Levi’s eyes. “Hmm? What do they say?”

She cleared her throat, posture straightened with a determined look on her visage. The smile on her face never wavered as she iterated, “The vice-captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team and the most remarkable Chaser in all of Hogwarts. The kindest student for helping the professors without asking for anything in return. The most enigmatic student in the castle captured the interest of the whole student body. I must say, there are far more things that they say but those three make up the summary.”

“But what do you think of them?”

“What?” She was taken aback.

“What do you think of what they say about me?”

“I think it’s true to the Levi I have known for three years.”

Once again, he expected that answer but he still found himself flushing. He hoped she didn’t pick up on that. It was merely a question to feed his curiosity of what the person of his affections thought of him. He cleared his throat. “Hmm.”

“I never lie, Levi. You are all of those things and so much more. I’ve seen you fly through the stadium during your matches and you’re glowing like the Sun. I’ve helped you offer your aid to the professors and even though you never smile around them, I can tell that you enjoy doing good deeds without any rewards. Your mysterious persona was what captured my interest in the first place. I’ve always wanted to talk to you but you seem to glare at every breathing thing once they step within a three-metre radius. But behind everything that they say, I’ve seen you talk so animatedly about your favourite Quidditch teams or your favourite subjects.” [Name] gently placed her palm against Levi’s warm cheeks. “In conclusion, you’re the one that’s way out of my league.”

Levi rolled his eyes, shying away from her grasp. “Okay, okay, I get it,” he murmured. “Can we talk about mermaids now?”

She laughed. “Of course, Vi. Whatever you want.”

He never knew that the human heart could beat this fast.

A dreamer and an adventurer written in the stars.

“Ackerman.”

What a fucking good start.

“Yes, Professor?” Levi forced out a polite tone.

Snape looked down at him and Levi stared right back.

“Can you tell me what potion is on the table right now?” Snape said in that drawl of his that seemed to make Levi’s skin crawl.

Levi glanced at the table in front of the entire class and inwardly grimaced. “Amortentia, Professor, the strongest love potion. One whiff of it becomes the most attractive to one person even if they’re unaware of their fondness for the reason behind the scent. It is said to invoke extreme infatuation that becomes an obsession once you’re administered it.”

“Very well, ten points to Hufflepuff,” Snape rewarded.

Please, don’t call names to announce what we can smell.

“Smith, what’s the next potion?”

Levi visibly let out a breath of relief. Across the room, he caught the eye of Erwin and the fucking tree had the audacity to knowingly smile before answering Snape. He knew that look. He was always on the receiving end of that look, whether from Hange, Erwin, Farlan, or Mike. It always had something to do with a certain Ravenclaw who had an affinity for his House colour. The last time he received that look was when Erwin caught him staring at [Name] for a long period, describing Levi’s face as someone who just drank all the love potions in the Wizarding World. Was he that subtle with his feelings for her or was his Yellow just oblivious? Maybe shifting to the latter because his entire friend circle would sometimes remind him that his drool was starting to show with all the gawking he did. Day by day, he was getting closer to socking someone in the face.

As the class went on, as usual, a theory-oriented one that everybody was wishing for, Levi detected the most addicting scents entering his senses. He felt himself droop in comfort; it was a tantalising sillage of a mixture of fruits (bananas, strawberries, and lemon — almost a fruit salad), pages of an old book that was most likely from the library, and—Levi had to prevent himself from looking like an idiot in the middle of class.

It was only when he resurfaced from the Slytherin dungeons with Erwin that he felt his whole face burn. He never heard Erwin tell him, “You look like a tomato, Levi.” All he saw was his Yellow, walking towards the staircase, her Ravenclaw robes flattering her. The sight of that infamous hair tie that captured his attention greeted his vision when she ascended on the stairs to the Divination classroom.

The last scent was a field of sunflowers.

Levi shakes himself from his daydreams to not let the others know he’s not paying attention. Butterbeer overpowers the interior of the Three Broomsticks as a good number of Hogwarts students spend their holidays in the castle, courtesy of the Triwizard Tournament. His group of friends is mostly there to buy things for the Yule Ball, a troublesome event that will take place in a few days and the subject of Levi’s annoyance. In the course of three days, Levi received a total of four proposals from girls he never knew existed in Hogwarts. All of them he rejected and now he’s placed in a situation where he was aware that some boys might ask [Name] to be their partner for the Yule Ball. His hand on his mug of Butterbeer tightens at the thought.

“You should ask her, Levi,” Erwin says from in front of him.

Levi hums and takes a sip of his beverage. “What’s to say she already said yes to the others who asked her?”

Farlan snorts. “You think Miss Head Girl said yes to them?”

“She said yes to you when you asked her to hang out in Hogsmeade to ward off your ex or Erwin when he needed a date for his parents’ gala or something.”

“That’s because we’re her friends, Levi,” Erwin supplies but it’s obvious Levi is starting to overthink. “And I doubt she wants either of us to ask her to the ball.” He shares a knowing glance with Farlan, who shrugs with a mirthful grin on his face. Both of them know how Levi fancies the brilliant Ravenclaw everybody in Hogwarts seems to adore as well. They’re the witness to his floundering whenever she’s around, how he appears to be fidgeting with his fingers, or the tell-tale flush that’s prominent on his skin. “So I think you should go and ask her. She’s definitely not going to say no. I mean, it’s you we’re talking about.”

“What do you mean?” Levi raises an eyebrow.

Farlan rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on! Don’t pretend that you two are not the rumoured lovers. We’ve seen everything, Levi. You can’t deny that she returns your feelings. Everyone can see that she does.”

Levi scoffs a laugh. “No, she doesn’t. Why would she? I mean, I’m not exactly deserving of her. She’s …” He slowly blinks at his mug, a sheen of yellow-coloured glasses covering his eyes. “Luminous.”

Snickers ring from across him, successfully annoying the hell out of him.

“You’re drooling, Levi,” Farlan guffaws.

Erwin chuckles. “Which is more reason for you to ask her. I know she’ll say yes. Come on, when has she ever turned down any of your Hogsmeade invitations.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I never invited her,” Levi drawls. “It’s the other way around.”

“There you go!” Farlan points out with his hand gripping the handle of his mug, mouth outlined with froth from his drink. “She never asked other people to go with her, it’s always you! So, make the first move this time. Ask her to be your date for the ball and I bet she’ll appreciate that more.” The blond leans forward as he places his mug on the table. His gaze arrests Levi, who’s about to bail and make a run for it. Farlan has an idea that Levi is adamant to get out of the hot seat. “If you spoke about your feelings to her, all of us know that love will return. Would you rather let it be spoken inside you until it becomes too soft for her to hear?”

Levi glowers at Farlan, jaw clenching at his friend’s words. “Damn Ravenclaws and their logic.”

“Am I wrong though?”

The onyx-haired boy breathes out a sigh.

“It’s your call, Levi,” Erwin tries to help.

It takes Levi a couple of minutes to collect himself. The outcome of the proposal is walking down on the grand staircase of the castle, taking the breath of everyone that’s watching.

Yellow.

It’s the day of the ball and a special day at that. One that Levi never paid attention to until this year. It’s a day filled with wishing he never took his first breath if it meant his mother’s last when he did. It’s a day of white lilies and the arctic chill of winter wonderlands. A day painted in death. That was until she painted everything in yellow.

Tulle and silk flutter against the steps, a goddess descending from the heavens — too divine for a mortal eye. And Levi is a devout follower. The goddess in question is a wearer of blue and bronze but she dons the colour yellow like the luminary that she is. Every clink of her shoes on the floor lessens the distance until she stands in front of her temple. The gown is a simple one yet she shines amongst the silver and dull colours in the chamber. Attached to the bodice are tulle off-shoulder sleeves coming to her wrists. Adorned on the dress’ material are little crystals akin to dewdrops. Her temples carry delicate gold flower headpieces, with tiny jewels to match the crystals on her dress. Levi is once again speechless and he only stands there with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide, taking her in.

[Name], his Yellow, is a divine deity of beauty and wisdom among mortals.

“Happy birthday, Levi,” she greets with a beautiful smile that makes him weak in the knees.

Levi closes his mouth, gulping his nervousness. “Thank you,” he whispers, too scared for his voice to crack if he modulates it.

Her laugh is like the fairies in the immense ceiling above them. He swears everything brightens at the sound. “Did somebody take your tongue? I swear this is the quietest you’ve ever been. Is something wrong?”

Levi inhales a deep breath. “No, nothing is wrong. I …” You’re so beautiful. He wants to say that but no words are coming out of his mouth. He’s starting to feel his hands becoming clammy and his heart dancing to a nervous tune. “You clean yourself nicely, I see.”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “You clean up nicely as well, Mr. Ackerman.”

“Shall we?” Levi offers his arm, still focused on the beauty in front of him.

“We shall.”

The Yule Ball is an event for lovers. Of friends and newfound sparks. It’s a night of magic.

For once in Levi’s life, he never thought of how his mother gave up her life for him to experience the world in its rawest form. For once in his life, Levi never wants this day to end. He will not let anything take away what’s standing in front of him. He feels Time at a standstill. As they dance to the orchestra’s waltz, Levi feels his lips tugging in a smile and he lets it surface on his face. He can see the glimmer of awe in her irises and his smile grows, foreheads softly pressing on each other. Their noses are touching and the little snow magic flurrying around them adds to the romance. Everybody vanishes from sight, just the two of them in this gentle winter wonderland. Levi knows that the moment they met was the day he realised he finally found his home. That little sunflower keeping her hair together, the laughs that warm the entire room, the yellowed pages she brushes her fingers on, and the glimmer of a promise of forever present in her smile.

It’s the first time Levi feels happiness on his birthday. A feat that will be remembered for years on end.

When the waltz dies down and the thumps of a rock band are waking the fairies from their perch, Levi lets [Name] pull him from the Great Hall. Their shadows dance on the walls, silently prancing from the professors’ sights until they come to their spot in the Astronomy tower. There are a couple of people there, lovers needing the recluse from all the festivities. The gentle hand encasing his own pulls him to their usual spot, right next to the balcony overseeing the entirety of the Hogwarts property. The stars above are shining more than ever, for winter is at its peak. Real flurries of snow tip-toe inside to their spot, kissing their skin in a reassurance that the night won’t be as cold as they perceived it to be.

“I couldn’t thank you enough for getting me out of the misery of watching a concert,” Levi states, hand now encasing hers, with the other finding home in her waist.

She laughs before shivering at the winter breeze. Instantly, Levi takes off the jacket of his robes, tenderly putting it on her shoulders. Upon doing so, their gazes meet and he can feel himself leaning in, both of his hands now pulling her in by her waist until their chests are against each other. It doesn’t register to him that she’s doing the same. Maybe it’s the magic of winter or the wish he foolishly made earlier in the day to give him a moment of peace with his Yellow. A surge of confidence takes over him.

“Yellow reminds me of you.”

“Really?” Her voice is soft-spoken.

Levi’s lips descend first on her cheek. “Yes. You make me warm all over like I just touched the Sun without falling like Icarus.” Next, he brushes them on the corner of her lips. “I never once thought that my House colour could bring me so much comfort and homeliness. I never thought that — until I met you.” He looks at her in the eye and finds them glassy with unshed tears. “You invoke so much happiness in me like no one else does. Every day when you’re with me, I feel like the best person I can be. You’re my reason, my biggest adventure, my haven, [Name].

“You’re my favourite colour.”

“And you’ve always been mine, Levi. Right from the start, I know that it’s you.” [Name] tilts her head, her lips brushing on his. “I dream of you every single day. I might not say this out loud in flowering words but I’m so happy right now. I feel like I can catch falling stars, knowing that you return my feelings.”

Levi’s eyelids flutter. “Return my feelings?”

“Yes,” she gleefully giggles. “I fancy you, too, Levi Ackerman.”

“You just made me the happiest, Yellow.”

Their lips meet and suddenly everything feels right and whole.

It’s soft and unyielding — their love for one another. When they pull away, all they can see is each other. Another kiss is placed on her cheek, a hum of a laugh coming from Levi as a smile once again becomes visible. [Name] effortlessly elicits them from him. Their hearts are offered to one another to keep as well as their hands to hold.

“This is officially the best birthday.”

“Oh!” [Name] slightly pulls away from a confused Levi, her hands opening her extendable purse. From the confines of her bag, she waves a present in front of Levi, wrapped pretty with a golden bow.

“You shouldn’t have.” In reality, his heart is full, as indicated by his smile.

“Of course, I should have.” She hands it to him, eager to see his reaction. “It’s the special day of my favourite person.”

Taking his hands off her waist, Levi chuckles while unwrapping his present. His eyes slowly widen at what seems to be a thick hardbound book. It’s bulging and he curiously opens to the title page. He glances at her giddy smile at the words she wrote on the paper. A Page a Day. On the next page, his heart races in his chest, spurring the butterflies to fiercely beat their wings. For my Yellow. “How did you—”

“It’s mainly because you’re a Hufflepuff. Did I ever tell you that yellow suits you the best?”

Levi hums with a smile. “We really do think alike.”

“Great minds, they say.”

He playfully rolls his eyes, continuing on his journey with his present. He then discovers that the book carries a tea bag for each day, every single one a different flavour with little handwritten notes under the tea bag. Utterly stunning. “Did I ever mention that you’re absolutely brilliant?”

[Name] looks away with a grin. “Only about a thousand times now. I assume you like the present?”

“You have no idea,“ Levi utters. "Come here.” He pulls her in his arms, his favourite sound becoming music to his ears.

Another kiss has been shared and birthdays are never the same again for one adventurer — his dreamer finally in his reach.

[trashlord-007]

I guess maybe I will add my unnecessary opinion. If I can manage not to drop my phone on my face for at least five minutes to do so.

First and foremost, not knowing how to talk to people is a huge one for me. I end up just liking the reblogs with comments or tags, which definitely doesn't scream friendly or eager to discuss fandom, but is the extent of what I'm willing to do so I don't seem like I'm squeezing blood from a stone. I don't want to come across as fake with a "omg thank you!! you're so sweet, you're the best, this means the world to me" on every reblog - I know people would appreciate it and it is also true, I appreciate every like, comment, reblog etc, but it feels performative to me.

Secondly, and I am SO SORRY to my EXOLs for this in particular, I have a really hard time answering DMs. Does this have anything to do with anyone else? No. I just feel guilty.

It seems to me that kpop, outside of a few exceptions, is on the decline across the board (ao3 included). I could be totally wrong but even the MV views and likes seem lower. At this point we've come full circle in fandom culture and we're going to be back to extremely dedicated fans holding up the entirety of a fandom on their own backs for the pure love of it. I won't say which KPOP group it was but on AO3 recently I saw literally two people writing for the group. They would occasionally gift one another a fic, and they would average 20 likes or so. They are doing it for the love of the fandom, so even if we face a total decline I believe a sprinkling of creators would and will hold the line (bless you 🙏)

Even in big fandoms new creators will be totally overlooked because Tumblr's algorithm doesn't allow for new people to join the big table. You'd think BTS would be a big draw but the creators already have their fans and people aren't interested in finding new ones or wading through the trash (porn bots, fuck you, and also fuck you to people incorrectly tagging for likes and views) on the tags, so they stick to their tried and true.

I'll leave my last thought to myself because I think it literally only affects me and my aversion to the Mainstream Tumblr™️ mentality and their insistence on vilifying anyone and everyone that doesn't agree with them.

Now that I've finished blah blah-ing, let me just say that more events would be extremely fun but I worry that it might cause you, the host, burnout if people don't actually participate. As you know, I'm a flake and I took a hiatus right in the middle of a Secret Santa event, so my opinion is pretty much mud here since I am one of the folks causing grief, but I worry that you might get discouraged if participation is low. I think you'd need a set group of people who are willing to commit to posting something each time to keep spirits high.

Also ngl, before my latest hiatus (different from the one just mentioned, I am gone a lot it seems), I would note-chase. I was hardly writing for EXO and my passion projects were far and few between. I'd literally try to follow the trends and see who (not even which bands, but which individual members) was getting the most notes and write for them. I burned out so much faster, and it didn't even get me anywhere lmfao because I don't even like to write the stuff people like on here. I'm more happy when I'm being a little weirdo in my own corner, but interaction will never stop being the light in front of an anglerfish.

All of this to say... well, I would appreciate more events and EXO content. My dash is DEAD save for a few SKZ posts. My EXOLs are quiet, they've moved on, they're not online when I'm online so I'm missing their posts. I follow some GIF networks just so I can keep my queue from slowly turning me into a Bang Chan blog. I don't have time to search tags and I don't have the energy to skip over all my filtered posts on my own dash just so I can see a pretty gif or two. I think having active fandom networks or blogs or just a list of potential mutuals would help a lot. I don't really follow people first because I just assume most people hate at least one aspect of what I'm about, so I've fallen into a very limited ecosystem and echochamber of content.

And now I'm starting to realise why people start over and create whole new blogs and personas on here lmfao.

No matter what happens I will support you and I appreciate the effort you're making here. Sorry for hijacking this just to complain, geez, I really shouldn't be allowed to talk. But if I see an event come through I will try to partake. And reblogging other people's works is definitely something I can do so I look forward to it wholly!

The OP message and subsequent reblogs did spark a little something something in me, make my fingers twitch, gave me an itch if you will. A thirst. EXO is my ult group. I should be creating for them. I want to create for them. And so I will fan this ember and hope and pray that this will ignite the fire, drive and desire needed to return to fandom.

So I can't be the only one who's noticed the decline in fanmade exo content here on Tumblr. We've gone from a fandom who's new posts could be measured in hours to a fandom who's posts have days....to weeks....to months....to even years for some specific tags.

We have had 6 solo album comebacks this year, 3 fancon tours, 2 solo concert tours, a myriad of festival concert appearances, youtube videos, magazine shoots, instalives, etc. Yet if you go to the exo tag it's mainly populated by archive blogs. And the nude bots, which....that's a whole other problem on its own. I digress. My point being, the tags, at least from what I've seen (I admit I haven't looked into the shipping tags) are being filled by the same handful of blogs yet given the high amount of source material, no one seems to be doing anything with it beyond archiving it.

Again this could just be because I didn't delve too deep or too far back, but it does have me wondering if part of the reason participation this year was down was simply because there's hardly anyone left.

There's been instances in the past where others have attempted to inject new life into the fandom so to speak, with....varying...level of success. The exo revival project being the first and most successful that comes to mind. I'm wondering what everyone else's thoughts are on the matter and if holding new fandom events might be a way to involve more people year round because I really do want to continue holding this event next year but if things keep going the way they have been there won't be anyone signing up.

Let me know what you think, ideas you might have, reblog this and tag your mutuals to get them involved in the discussion. I have a few ideas that I've pilfered from other fandoms, watch alongs. Fic bingo. Theres valentines exchanges. Fandom sleepovers. Heck I'd set up a Tumblr based scavenger hunt if I thought people would play. Like....we dont have to be monoliths in a placid sea of we don't want to. Fandom can be fun. It should be fun.

[acesymmetricfool]

2021 Round Up~

Wow there were some really cool events and prompts this year. I tried to tag everything and everyone I could think of so credit can go where it's due. Let me know if I missed any because I'm low-key exhausted but I wanted to get it done quickly.

Under the cut is a list of everything I did in 2021 for the Danny Phandom. There are some Ao3 links that lead to cleaned up versions of my (favored) fics if you're into that so feel free to sub to Acesymmetricfool on Ao3 for more as I get them tidy or I'll just reblog them as I go anyway.

Here on tumblr, I have my main blog @another-shameless-fangirl and my writing sideblog or check the tags "#asf writes" or "#asf wrote a thing" for more.

Thanks for the support I've gotten from people here, it really does mean so much!

It's mostly angst and drama. How about I tag what isn't. Enjoy~

Trick (362) -Ectober @ectoberhaunt Danny's secret is out. This ghost has tricked everyone into thinking it's little Danny Fenton. Luckily his parents know better than to trust a monster.

Laugh- Ao3 link -Ectober

What do people actually think about Phantom? We'd like to think of him as a friend with a nice laugh.

Glitter - Ao3 link (731) -Ectober

Glittering snow appears wherever Phantom does. There was a beauty in the way Phantom felt pain.

Fairy Circle (1166) -Ectober -dramatic with classmates

Danny isn't interested in this nature hike, especially when his friends are back at camp with another group and he's stuck with Dash and some other people. When they find a fairy circle in a clearing, Danny knows the stories and to stay away. Dash doesn't believe him and maybe there is a price to pay.

Twilight (660) -Ectober -oh no what happened in Fairy Circle

Fenton better not be pulling a fast one about that fairy circle business. Dash rationalizes the events of Fairy Circle in what is basically chapter 2 and is awaiting a third chapter.

Swamp- Ao3 link (3225) -Ectober (Horror)

Fenton Works wasn't always a weapons manufacturer. The Fenton's were paranormal investigators. Field studies were done, measurements were taken, tests performed. It was a family business that searched for proof of ghosts. One night, they finally found it. If only their 6-year-old wasn't sleeping in the backseat.

Poison - Ao3 link (428) -Ectober

Danny Phantom was going to be the end of Amity Park as we knew it.

Mask- Ao3 link (640) -Ectober There wasn’t a time after the accident that Danny felt he could be himself. He had a loving family, friends who adored him, a public whose opinion varied on his performance, but he couldn’t bring himself to present all that he was to any of them. So Danny started to wear masks.

Condemned (420) -Ectober

Danny Phantom was a menace at best, at worst an upheaval of the natural order of things. Danny knew better than anyone this sentence was for the best.

Headstone (2434) -Ectober

Why did he have to be remembered? Why didn’t they want him anymore? Did they all wish him a safe passing to the afterlife? What did he do wrong to make all them want him gone?

He was a hero for them wasn’t he?

Insomnia- Ao3 link (1018) -Ectober

What was a little lost sleep if staying awake meant he could keep his city safe?

A Wish List for Danny- Ao3 link (763) -12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff) @12daysficmas

Danny's been so busy fighting ghosts, he forgot to make himself a Wish List before the holidays started and he just doesn't have it in him anymore. Good thing he has two best friends who love him.

With a Little Help- Ao3 Link (645)- 12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff)

Star Thunder has her life together school-wise. It isn't really her problem if Fenton's is falling apart. Lucky for him, Foley comes to plead mercy.

Call me Grandma Ida- Ao3 link (1541) 12 Days of Ficmas (Fluff)

“I don’t eat. I’m a ghost.” Ida Manson could have believed him if it weren’t for his voice or his face or the way his hands moved. She smiled at the ghost boy. “You’ve got a mouth, don't ya?”

She Knew Those Eyes- Ao3 link (2788)- Truce gift for @faedemon / @moipale

Jazz didn’t know as much about ghosts. She didn’t have powers or experience but she was willing to learn and help any way she could. Danny might not want to tell her about every rough time, but the important thing was that he trusted her to be there on the really bad days.

When her brother's skittish clone introduced herself, Jazz braced herself for what could be a very bad night indeed.

A Real Connection- Ao3 link (822)(Cracky fluff) @floralflowerpower

When Danny Fenton is spotted being carried home by the friendly Phantom, the Citizens of Amity Park can't help but wonder what their connection is. The consensus, despite any objections from Fenton, is that it is so very real.

Electric Duet (669) A duet with @floralflowerpower, prompt by @coolclaytony

Maddie experiments with Phantom's aversion to electricity and makes a dire mistake.

This is Only the Beginning- Ao3 link (1581) @danphanwritingprompts

Danny learns the hard way what Vlad already knew. They were both immortal and every human they cared about would die.

You Were Supposed to Be Our Uncle Vlad (1348) @danphanwritingprompts

Clockwork has his reasons when he shows Danny another alternate future. A single second could have made all the difference. Uncle Vlad would have been family.

My Eyes Were Blue (1021)- prompt by @dannyphantompromptgenerator and @all-out-disney

Danny finds out what happened to Sidney Poindexter.

Checking up on the boy (311) Kinda related to My Eyes Were Blue Prompt by @danphanwritingprompts

“Ma’am, you don’t understand. There’s nobody named Sidney Poindexter currently attending this school.”

Conviction (2083)- prompt by @amabsis

This time, instead of making a weapon to hurt ghosts, the Fenton's make a weapon that allows them to “get their feelings back”. Problem is they already have them, so what happens when you take an already emotional ghost teen and amplify it by 10?

Team Work Makes the Dream Work- (1424)- Cracky fun- prompt by @reallydumbdannyphantomaus

kwan: don't look now but we've shifted to another reality again

dash: fuck!!!!! shit!!!!! no!!!!!

kwan: i mean i know it sucks but it's happened before it'll be fine

dash: no idiot we've got an away game tonight how are we supposed to get to brantford from another reality??

kwan: 😱

kwan: we're gonna have to forfeit!

dash: not on my watch

Thanks so much!

[a-froger-epic]

Get out your glitter leotards and pour some champagne in your cat mugs! 🥂 🍾 It’s time to celebrate Freddie! 🎉😸

🎊 Freddie Mercury Weekend 2021 🎊

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

ABOUT THE EVENT

This weekend is a content creation event in honour of the man himself, the legend we all love, Freddie Mercury! Once more, everyone who is inspired by Freddie is invited to share their creativity with the fandom. You can write, draw, edit, record, even cross-stitch 😉 content for absolutely anything related to Freddie, any ship, any genre, any way you like. This is an indiscriminately inclusive, positive event. Everyone is welcome, there is no wrong way to be a fan of Freddie! (Except convincing yourself you're dating his ghost maybe. That's pretty wrong. And weird. Don't do that.)

WHEN? On the 21st, 22nd and 23rd of May.

HOW? On the above dates (or after!), post your contributions to the AO3 collection or alternatively on Tumblr, tagged ‘#fmw2021’ or/and ‘#freddie mercury weekend 2021’. If you post on Tumblr, please also tag @a-froger-epic to make sure you get a reblog from me!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

THE PROMPTS

You can be as free with the prompts as you like. They are here to inspire, there is no wrong way to write them! Change them around, mix them up, make them fem!Freddie, A/B/O, add your favourite ship. Anything goes! 😊

21st of May - 500-1000 word challenge!

We’re kicking off the event with ficlets and drabbles. First time writer just testing the waters? No need for an epic, just write a scene! No time to write but you want to participate? Surely you’ll find time for 500 words! 😉 Interpret these mini-prompts however you like (every one is a separate prompt, but you can combine them!):

Make-Up 💄   |   Pain/Pleasure 👀

Strip 👕   |   Ring 💍

Forbidden 🤫   |   Delilah 🐈

Piano 🎹   |   Dormitory 🛏 

Outrageous 🎉   |   Contentment 😌

Come Together 🎇   |   Ballet 🩰

Piece of Art 🎨   |   Leather 🧥

Cockring 🐔   |   Kimono 👘

Petals 🌸   |   Leotard 🕺🏻

Mustache 🧔   |   Last Time 😔

22nd of May - Is This The Real Life? 

A list of real event/canon timeline prompts from Freddie’s life. How real you want to keep them, however, is entirely up to you!

Down in flames

Freddie is 16 years old when he leaves boarding school. Does it have something to do with the school gardener, Sanjay? Did he flunk his exams or did he not even sit them? Is one thing connected to the other? Does he really find a boyfriend when he goes to stay with his aunt in Mumbai (then Bombay)? Either way, there’s the small matter of his parents finding out about all of it... (Sources: x x )

When Freddie met Kenny

Freddie is a guest on Kenny Everett's radio show in spring 1974. Freddie is living with Mary, Kenny is married. Two gay men, deep in the closet. To no one's surprise, they hit it off immediately. (Source: x )

But when did he? 

At some point during his relationship with Mary, prior to his relationship with David, Freddie had already begun sleeping with men. But how and when did that first happen? Cottaging in London? On tour somewhere in the world? Your guess is as good as ours… 

Flying High

Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll. Like all rock bands of their time, Queen doesn’t escape the copious amounts of cocaine in the entertainment industry for long. Somewhere on tour in America, perhaps, Freddie is first introduced to it. Where? How? 

Hide your tears

Jim said that he tried to be strong for Freddie and only cried in private, so as not to burden Freddie with his feelings. But this time, he is found. 

One-liners:

In 1969, Freddie doesn’t know how to cook an egg and neither does Roger (Source: x )

In 1977, Freddie meets Joe while on tour in Boston and starts dating him behind David's back

In 1990, Brian and Freddie work on 'The Show Must Go On' (Source: x )

In a year of your choice, Jim reminisces about his fondest moment(s) with Freddie

In 1976, Freddie and Mary end their relationship 

In 1984, Winnie gives Freddie a wedding ring (middle of the post: x )

In the late 60s, Freddie agrees to model for an Ealing Art School fashion show, but panics and flees the runway (Source: x )

In 1974, Freddie is strip-searched upon arrival in Australia (Source: x )

In 1982, Freddie and Roger go shopping in Amsterdam (Source: x )

In 1978, Freddie swings from a chandelier - naked (Source: x )

23rd of May - Is It Just Fantasy?

A list of AU prompts to spark your imagination. Take them and run with them or change them up, just have fun!

Make your dreams come true

Freddie hasn't been very fortunate in his life, until he finds a very special oil lamp, and rubs it just the right way. 

Beautiful stranger

Freddie meets an alluring stranger at a masquerade ball, who has more secrets than he can hide behind a mask. But Freddie has some of his own. 

Thicker than water 

Freddie agrees to a dreadful fate in order to save his little sister from the very same. Fortunately, he has friends who are more than willing to help him, but can they? Or are they, too, in danger?

Diamonds are a boy's best friend

Freddie is the prized jewel of the court, a skilled belly-dancer and entertainer, but he may also be plotting murder and getting away with it. 

Almost Real

In a distant future, humans have all but done away with face to face interaction. Humanity largely lives online. Children grow up isolated and live with only their families well into young adulthood. Cybersex is the new normal, although some families take a puritanical approach for fear of addiction. One day, impossibly, a real life young man falls through the containment field in Freddie’s back garden. 

One-liners:

This plane is going to crash (Freddie knew there was a reason he hated flying) 

Shipwrecked on an island (Freddie could never bear to be alone, but luckily/unfortunately for him…) 

Hunger Games AU (Freddie is so dead) 

A terrible road accident (Everyone is so dead, or are they?) 

Blind Date AU (Freddie's best friend is so dead for setting him up with this person… or are they…) 

Bank robbery (but who are the robbers and who are the hostages?) 

Magic AU ("Yer a wizard, Freddie!")

Film Noir AU (Secrets and cigarette holders) 

Interior Design AU (Does the carpet match the drapes?)

The Bodyguard AU (“And I will always love yooouuuu…”)

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

RULES & FAQ

⛔ Strictly No Hate ⛔

This is the NUMBER ONE RULE of the event, to ensure that everybody feels safe. No rudeness, provocations or hate aimed at creators or other commenters will be permitted, not on AO3 nor Tumblr.

Follow these steps if you receive a comment or ask that distresses you:

Do not engage. (You can take a screenshot as proof.)

Delete it. No ifs, no buts. Just delete it. (Don’t hesitate to block anon hate on Tumblr.)

Alert me ( @a-froger-epic ) or @aboutnothingness, who is lending me a hand to make sure all needs are attended, all questions are answered and everything runs smoothly. We are here to actively support you. We’ve got your back, and we will gladly talk to you and help you feel better.

If you choose to ignore this rule, your work may be removed from the event. We would hate to resort to that.

But what if one of the works has upset me?

Can the thing that upset you be tagged, but it wasn’t? Then please inform @a-froger-epic or @aboutnothingness, and we will bring it to the creator’s attention. (Remember to use the appropriate tags, everybody!)

Was the thing that upset you already tagged? Or is it perhaps simply the characterisation you find disagreeable? Then we suggest you click on the ‘back’ button, take a deep breath and remind yourself it's just fanfic.

Who can participate?

Anyone who is inspired by Freddie Mercury in any way shape or form. This event is open to all.

Can I combine prompts from different days?

By all means! We look forward to your futuristic Freddie-gets-kicked-out-of-boarding-school Maycury Film Noir AU. With leotards. Go crazy.

I'm not sure where my creation fits in, what day do I post it? 

The days, like the prompts, are only suggestions. We don't mind when you post it, as long as you post it! Even if it's two weeks late! 

Help, I've never posted fic before! 

Don't worry, we've got you! (And more importantly, we've got AO3 invites!) @aboutnothingness is more than happy to walk you through the process of setting up an account and is also offering her services as a beta.

I’m still too nervous to participate!

You can post anonymously to the collection. You can disable anon comments on your work. You can disable comments entirely and just collect the kudos. You can close anon asks on Tumblr temporarily. But most importantly, we are here for you and we want you here!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

“I love the fact that I make people happy, in any form. Even if it’s just half an hour of their lives, in any way that I can make them feel lucky or make them feel good, or bring a smile to a sour face, that to me is worthwhile.”

- Freddie Mercury

[imagineteamfreewill]

Here’s to Witches

Title: Here’s to Witches

Pairing: Reader x Sam

Word Count: 1,331

Warnings: None

Summary: Sam and the reader are each gifted something after saving a group of housewives on a hunt, and Sam’s gift is exponentially more... enthusiastic than the reader’s.

A/N: This is completely unedited, so please excuse any mistakes. If you see any glaring ones, please feel free to (politely) send me an ask or a message so I can go in and fix it. The gifs that inspired this fic can be found at the end because I thought they were too cute to not include. Also, feedback makes the world go round and makes my blog a lot more enjoyable for everyone! Please reblog this fic with your thoughts or send me an ask or a message to tell me what you think. Enjoy!

_______________

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this happy,” you said as you leaned against the dresser. The knobs dug into the small of your back and your shoulders but you ignored them as Sam looked up at you with a wide smile.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” he replied.

Bones jumped up on his hind legs, pushing himself slightly off the floor as he tried to regain Sam’s full attention. He succeeded and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way Sam raised the pitch of his voice to talk to his new—or rather, old—furry friend.

“You know, when the witch said she’d brought back someone dear to your heart, I figured we’d come back to the motel to find Bobby or something.”

Sam glanced up at you again, his smile undimmed. “I didn’t think it would be Bones either, but honestly…”

Smiling, you moved away from the dresser to see if your phone had regained some battery. It had died on the way back from the abandoned winery where the coven had been holding its meetings. Thankfully, you hadn’t needed it to call for help. The coven was more domestic than anything you’d ever encountered on a hunt; the witches mostly used their magic to bring dead houseplants back to life, get the smell out of laundry they’d forgotten in the washer, and thaw meat that they’d taken out of the freezer an hour or two too late. You’d been in the midst of trying to figure out how to ask them to stick with what they knew when the real troublemakers had shown up, figurative guns blazing, in an attempt to harm the housewives who were in almost too deep. 

You and Sam had eradicated the bad witches with relative ease and the handful of women had been so grateful to you that they’d put their collective energies together to give you each a gift. They’d given you something you’d thought long gone—a box of photos from your childhood—and they’d promised Sam something “dear to his heart”. 

After unlocking your phone, you quietly placed an order for a few pizzas, knowing that Sam was probably starving after the busy day you’d had. You were about to press the submit button when something bumped against your leg.

“I think he likes you,” Sam said, and you looked down to find Bones sitting at your feet. He was giving you a heart-warming doggy smile and his tail was going a mile a minute. It was almost comical how hard he was trying to sit despite the fact that his butt was wiggling right along with his tail.

You chuckled and crouched down to run your hand over Bones’ back. “Hey buddy! Are you hungry too? Is that why you came over here?” you cooed. Your voice jumped up an octave, just like Sam’s had, but Bones responded quickly and was up in your face as he tried to get as much of your attention and touch as possible.

Sam laughed too, standing up and stretching his arms above his head while he watched. He was clearly enjoying having Bones around and in the back of your mind, you sent up a silent prayer that this wasn’t a temporary thing. If Bones was ripped away from him, it would be a heartbreaking loss. Sam had already suffered so much and you wanted to ensure as much as you could that when he wasn’t on a hunt, he was happy and comfortable.

“You want some pepperoni, Bones? Huh?”

The dog yipped in response and you grinned, then stood. You quickly placed the order on your phone while Bones tried to get more attention from Sam. 

“Pizza should be here in about an hour,” you said, and Sam nodded. “So what do we do now? Think Dean’ll be okay with Bones being at the bunker? And in the Impala, for that matter?”

Sam shrugged. Bones was standing on the bed now so that Sam could pet him without having to sit down or bend over.

“Okay, well maybe we should pick up supplies before we get back,” you suggested. “That way, Dean can’t say it would be easy to get rid of him. And we should probably make an appointment with the vet in town, too…”

You pulled out your phone again, but as you were starting to research the veterinarian offices in Lebanon, you felt Sam’s eyes on you. Slowly, you glanced up from your phone and met his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam answered, shaking his head with a smile. “I’m just happy.”

“Okay… Weirdo.” You went back to the website. After another minute or two, you still felt Sam’s eyes on you and you sighed, dropping your hand down to your side so you could fully look at him. “What? Why are you staring at me, Sam?” The question came out with a laugh and Sam’s smile widened.

“I don’t know. I’m just… happy. I’m happy that you’re okay with this,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You love him and I think having a dog would be great.”

"Well I knew you liked dogs, but the last time we talked about getting one, you said that you didn’t think it would be a great idea. What changed?”

Shrugging, you tucked your phone in your pocket and went over to them, making sure to start petting Bones immediately so you wouldn’t get licked in the face again. You pointedly avoided making eye contact with Sam, instead focusing on the retriever who was practically vibrating with happiness at all the attention he was getting from the two of you.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” you answered. “I guess it’s because I don’t want you to have to give him up, you know? I like to see you happy, and Bones makes you happy. He makes me happy, too,” you added, knowing that Sam would call you out on it if you didn’t.

Sam hummed in response, and the two of you continued to pet Bones in silence, only occasionally laughing or talking to the dog when it felt right. 

An hour later, you were setting up the pizza while Sam took Bones outside for a break. The dog had come with his own collar—thank you, witches!—but he’d had to find a rope in the trunk of the Impala to use as a leash.

“It smells good!” Sam said as he opened the door and stepped inside. You glanced over at him with a smile, then laughed when you saw Bones pulling at the makeshift leash to get nearer to the table. When Sam dropped it, he made a beeline for the pizzas and you had to quickly shove him back down onto all four legs so that your dinner didn’t come with a side of dog hair.

“Whoa, buddy! Easy, calm down! You’ll get your dinner soon enough!”

Sam was grinning from ear to ear and you grinned back, feeling the contagious joy bubble up inside of you.

“Pepperoni?” he asked, and you nodded, grabbing the little container full of slices they’d included and holding it out for him. Bones tracked the movement intently and you laughed again as Sam grabbed it and pulled off the lid.

Instantly, Bones was sitting down, his tail wagging as he stared up at Sam.

“Well, at least he knows to sit,” you laughed. Sam laughed too, and soon the three of you were chowing down on your respective dinners.

We’re like a little family, you thought as you settled down beside Sam against the headboard. You’d both torn the top of the pizza boxes off so that the box was easier to hold in your lap, and he’d turned on a mindless movie while you’d made sure Bones had water. 

“Here’s to happy endings,” Sam said, holding out his beer.

You clinked yours against it with a smile, then a quiet chuckle. “And here’s to witches, which is something I’d never thought I’d say!”

(Gifs are by @frodo-sam​ can be found here. I couldn’t find them in the tumblr gif search or I would have included them that way, sorry!)

_______________

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Forever, Sam, Dean, Cas, Deaf!Reader, Words Series (Multiple Pairings/Characters), Home Series (Reader x Marine!Sam) - Unposted, From The Dead Series (Reader x Soldier!Dean), Consort Series (Goddess!Reader x Dean), Sam x Meg 2.0, Blog/Series Updates, and Drabble Days/Writing Events

@lipstickandwhiskey @riversong-sam @shaelyn102 @gabrielslittleangel @supermoonpanda @feelmyroarrrr @crispychrissy @shamelesslydean @supernatur-gal @gloriousartisanfancreator @smallriderbigdreams @sandlee44 @megasimpleplan4ever @ellie-andthemachine @dustycelt @rainflowermoon @katymacsupernatural @ultimatecin73 @musiclovinchic93 @mannls @thegrungequeer @fiftyshadesoffandoms6783 @choosemyname @mishascupcake @emmaa_maariee @mlovesstories @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @gypsytraveler86 @lucifersbird @sev3nruby @flirtswithdanger @whimsicalrobots @kazkingdom @a-screaming-ghost @5seconds-of-fandoms @supernatural-harrypotter7 @teaand-cookies @supernatural-crazed-girl @alexwinchester23 @supernatural3002 @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @lizzielu252 @babypink224221 @just-another-busyfangirl @idksupernatural@courtney-elizabeth-winchester @fuckmemgc @deansgirl215 @assassinofmasyaf @vallucky-gal @reginaphalange2403 @musicalsarelove @thorins-queen-of-erebor @animiliabby @somestupidgeek @basilbumble @swirlyoreo @jae-sch @alliegc28 @meangirlsx @fluffybeebutts @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @oneshoeshort @ten-lane @supernaturalharry @witch-of-letters @itssierramcquade @train-wrecc

[lyndiscealin]

AFTG Collaboration Experiment

The story behind the story

This is highly inspired by this youtube artist collaboration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCpScnyLOh8&list=PLjvuq1J91QkZpevHWcdlMwFqaMX8fuq3L

An artist (ten hundred) started a painting on a canvas and gave this canvas to a fellow artist and that artist added to the original picture and then gave it to another fellow artist and so on. I highly recommend the video series, the picture isn’t finished yet.

As soon as I saw this, I thought I wanted to do this, too, but with writing. I quickly came to the realisation, that I should start smaller than just ‘any story’, because there are too many genres out there and I couldn’t come up with a beginning that was open enough so any author I admire could continue it. Starting a Slice of life romance story and giving it to a horror author just might not work. It could, of course, but it would be far more unlikely to turn out as something that worked.

So I decided to do this inside of a fandom. The AFTG Fandom is crazy creative and the one I am most involved in right now.

The rules are simple:

Look at what the other authors have written so far

Add something of your own

Document your thought process behind what you added and link it at the beginning of your piece (it can be a google doc, a tumblr blog or something else, as long as you can link to it)

Ask another author to continue this

Upload your piece to AO3 and give it to the collection (https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AFTG_Collaboration)

If you don’t have an AO3 account and don’t want to create one, write me on tumblr @lyndiscealin and we will figure something out.

Don’t forget to add the name of the next author at the end of your piece, so I can verify that the addition to the Collection is valid

Be as creative as you like, there are literally no restriction, as long as you don’t ‘overwrite’ things authors before you wrote already

If you write 18+ stuff post a summary, too, so people who are underage don't have a problem continuing the fic

A summary at the end of every piece would be great so the next authors don’t need to spend too much time rereading to search for major plot points

Any author is allowed to finish this, if they feel like it! No reason to hold back!

This should be self explanatory, but I will say it nevertheless: This is supposed to be fun, so no hate, no pressure, nothing that makes anyone uncomfortable. No one has any responsibility for whom he has given this work to. Which means that there is no policing and no asking ‘when will you finish your piece?’ or anything. You give this to the next person and that’s it.

So this was done and I created a Collection on AO3 for this: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AFTG_Collaboration

This is an experiment. I hope it will work, but the nice thing about experiments is that even if it fails, you get something out of it.

I love to gather experience and even if this gets stuck right after my contribution, at least I tried it.

I’m a tiny bit nervous about this, because I saw too many times how people turned something good into something toxic, but we will see. I have trust in this fandom. We can do this. Let’s show the world what we can create!

But, how to start this?

The thought process

So I wanted something open enough that it was easy for nearly anyone to contribute. But even inside a fandom the diversity is very high. There are so many pairings, so many different interpretations.

I settled on Andreil as the main pairing, because it is by far the most popular and I trust people to not give this to someone who can’t work with it or for people to accept this without being able to contribute. I am a big believer in the concept of being responsible for yourself and trusting that people are able to be responsible for themselves.

So Andreil. But Andreil and then what?

What Scenario? What premise? How can I even give a premise without forcing others to follow that path? How can I keep the beginning open enough so others can be as creative with this as they want? Is there even a concept that allows that?

I was stuck.

The thing with a canvas and artist is that you have a canvas. If the canvas is full the picture is likely finished. Of course you can make more out of it, but in the beginning you have just a canvas. That in itself is hard enough to manage, but it is manageable. A far far universe without any direction is destined to get stuck somehwere. But I wanted this to be as creative and open as possible.

So I was completely stuck there.

Until today!!!

Because the Fandom is amazing and crazy and I love it so so much!

Some of you just presented me the perfect idea: Neil as a fanfiction author who writes about the Foxes.

Done. Perfect.

Why? Because this way you can contribute anything!!!!

You can contribute blog articles from Neil.

You can contribute news articles about the foxes.

You can contribute chat fics about Neil communicating with Andrew or someone else in the fandom.

You can even write a whole piece about Neil being on tumblr and AO3 interacting with his fans.

You can write the fanfiction that Neil is writing, so even if you are a JereJean fan, it is no problem at all to write a fanfiction about them and then let the next author write how the Foxes or Andrew or just fans reacted to it or whatever that author wants to make of it.

It’s really really perfect.

It gives me a canvas where I can outline some restrictions, give a bit of a path so the next author can do something with it, without restricting too much.

So what will I do?

I will write the end of the story and then go back to the beginning. I want to let the end be open enough so people can still contribute to it (if we ever get there). Like develop it in a Kandreil fic for example. Or add cats. Or whatever.

It doesn’t even have to be the end. Everyone is free to contribute anything, even a chapter after my ending. But it is at least some kind of frame. A good starting point.

So, I really am not a planner. Either an idea hits me or I can’t write. My idea is:

Start with the day Neil sees a tumblr post where someone theorizes ‘what if Neil was a fanfiction author and that is how he and Andrew met?’

He finds it very amusing, because it hits bullseye and he starts to drift off to the beginning of it all.

That’s it, that’s the idea. Let’s see how it will go from there.

The next author

I am in contact with some very very good authors. And I kind of want to ask them all to contribute. But there is one of them who had the displeasure of being online when this idea hit me and they got the full extent of me obsessing over an idea. And because they happen to be one of these great authors I asked them first. Additionally they were one of the contributors to the thread I linked above, so this was even more reason to ask them.

They said yes!!!

I am so excited and at the same time a bit sad I couldn’t ask the others. But I think eventually they will be part of the project, too. Hopefully.

I will reveal the next author at the end of the chapter^^

(I will reblog this with the first chapter, I just have to post this here first)

[hufflautia]

AA I WANNA KINDA THROW UP. i just went through all my notifications for the last few months in which i was gone and void and just gone like my dad. one thing that i realized that was kind of a shocker was that i like to abandon things before they can abandon me, or just do dumb shit and disappear before i get disappointed.

a beautiful example was when i had ordered two cute dresses and they finally came in the mail and as i was trying one on, i ddint rlly bother looking around it for a zipper besides the back of it, i rlly just shoved that shit over my legs and tried to pull it up and when that didnt work i pulled it over my head and somehow got it on and when i tried to take it off, for the life of me i couldnt and thats when i noticed a zipper in the side.

:/

i know, i have worms for brains. and after i realized, one: im dumb, but also two: theres a likelihood tht i decided not to look for the zipper bc i automatically assumed after i saw no zipper on the back that there wasnt one instead of searching for one bc if i couldnt find one, then i would get worried and disappointed. so i just went straight into it and tried to wear it without using one.

as i was looking through all the notifications, i just felt so immensely sad. maybe bcim listening to intense piano music bc the thought of going through all the notifications made me rlly anxious. bc then i would have to see all the likes and reblogs and comments and be reminded that there are actually people who care and like my work and im an old fart who disappeared for months. and i feel ultra bad bc of that ask i got of the person who was like pls i need closure areu working on the series or not : ( the email connected to this blog is one i no longer use so i didnt get the notification that i got an ask and UGH. the ask was back in december and now its jan and i feel so bad.

yall know how much i struggled with my writing and all the likes and reblog and just the lack of feedback i receive and how i was disappointed. so i think i have reached the reasoning behind my disappearance: disappear bc they disappoint you again. just like my dad when he would consistently disappoint me and i wsant in control of the situation, i could not make him come back home but im in control ofmy own actions so i leave before i can get disappointed again, try to fit on the dress without the disappointment that there was no zipper.

but as i was going through all the notifications i realzied that i am actually loved to some extent. sure, some of my fics dont do so well in my eyes, but others do. i remember feeling sad when chapter 5 part 1 didnt get much feedback but here i am, four months after it posted, and theres 102 notes and thats good enough for me.

i feel so sad, like alone here. my stupid fucking ocd forced me to go throuhg my entire feed every single day on tumblr and it was so exhausting. but i thankfully came out of that by not doing it, and it felt okay again. i was ok. but then i kinda lost touch with tumblr after? like i miss the people i used to see on my feed and i wonder where they are. i wonder where you all are. theres probably gonna be like two or three people reading this, and imt hankful. i hope ur ok.

i feel so weird on this blog. theres so much shit that happened, like with the ocd and then the stalker friend and then the whole thing with feedback. i have a very mixed feeling. sometimes i tell myself im never going back bc the validation will never be enough. but other times i want to write, not even for the feedback but because i like my writing, i like crafting it and thinking of ways to perfect it and make it nice.

i remember the days when i did incorrect quotes and i remember stopping them bc my anxiety was getting to be too much, and thats when i kinda disconnected with tumblr bc then my follower and like count slowed. i think i wanna start it again bc it was fun but its like, where are the people i used to see? people who i follow either stopped posting or idk where they are. i feel sad, like everyone is leaaving tumblr and im reminiscing on what this used to be. this used to be my whoel life and thats HELLA dramatic, no it wasnt, but i remember how excited i felt whenever i logged on tumblr, all the asks i got, etc. its sad when u lose touch with something u would've given everything for. but im not forgetting the new people who i come across, who are still here. its sad and beautiful. maybe things will get better when i post incorrect quotes again and connect with more people. bc this is connecting, in a way. like hey this post is funny. it reminds me that people are there and im not in a void.

thank u if u got this far, thank u for not leaving me in the void of loneliness. :(.

i think that before, when i was semi-notreally-active last year, i was kinda sad. like still dealing with a lot of stuff. ugh work, i remember when i had work in the summer and i was SO fucking exhausted all the time and didnt have the energy to write or just do literally anything. that shit was horrible. but now im actually happy. like im genuinely happy at college, its fun and wonderful and freeing. and im happy. i hope it makes u feel a tad bit better to know that while i was gone, i was happy.

so now idk whats next. i started planning out chapter 5 part 2 today. i hope people will be there to read it. xoxo i love you .

[childishfluff]

Little Kitten- [TommyInnit Pet Regression Oneshot]

Pet Regressor/Kitten!TommyInnit, CGs/Handlers!Wilbur and Tubbo

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten. He liked cat ears and playing with balls of yarn, and curling up in a little ball to take a nap. None of this was a problem until Wilbur and Tubbo came to stay at his house for a week, and he had to hide both a littlespace, *and* a kittenspace. And when Tubbo continuously calls him a "kitten" due to his results on a stupid internet "what animal am I" quiz, and Wilbur literally pets him while cuddling, he realizes he wasn't going to last a day. He was simply a little kitten. And now his friends knew that. -- This is non-sexual, sfw age+pet regression, dni if your nsfw/abdl/ageplay/petplay/cgl/ect. If any of the creators included in this work say *anything* about being uncomfy with fan fiction/of agere content including them, I will take this down and/or modify it appropriately. If they have already said something that I'm unaware of, please let me know.

A/N: so I was reading some tommy centric fics and the idea of Catboy!Tommy popped in my head, which eventually evolved into Kitten Regressor!Tommy as I brainstormed and this 4000-something oneshot happened. To my knowledge, there are no other pet regression fics in this fandom, and this is my first pet regression fic. If I misrepresented something, or you just wanna tell me something cool about pet regression in the comments, feel free too lmk in the reblogs/replies/in my ask box after reading!

For those who don't know, pet regression is similar to age regression. Pet Space (kittenspace,puppyspace,ect) is a separate headspace that someone can slip into, where they act like a different critter or creature. It can be used for all the same reasons as agere, and the online communities overlap a ton! You can look into it more, but that's the gist of it! It's nonsexual, safe for minors, and it ISN'T P3TPL@Y! also warning for a very brief mention of kinks and "getting off" (tommy basically saying that he's not into petplay) at the beginning.

--

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten.

Figuring this out was confusing for him. Even after discovering why he liked acting like a toddler sometimes, and why it helped him, he had to figure out why he also found comfort in pretending to be an animal. At first, he thought that this cutesy cat-like headspace was just him playing around while little, pretending to be one of his favorite creatures.

But then, he noticed how different his behaviors were when he got like this versus when he was just being a kid. It was really annoying, because he could research anything without stumbling across kinks that he was sure he wasn't into.

Just because the thought of wearing cat ears and curling up in someones lap and being pet softly made him happy, didn't mean he got off on it. Eventually, though, he discovered pet regression.

The pet regression community was overlapped, heavily, with the age regression and age dreaming ones he already secretly took part in. He was shocked he hadn't stumbled across it during his late-night scrollings through the "littlespace" tumblr tags.

Just like when he discovered his littlespace, he bought things online with money saved up from streaming, telling his family it was supplies for a video, and created a secret little box that sat under his bed for whenever he wanted to indulge in that headspace. Choker necklaces that resembled kitty collars, cat ears, certain sensory toys, different snacks.

Now, none of this would be a problem, if it wasn't for the fact that Wilbur and Tubbo coming over to stay at his house for a week while his parents were on vacation. Yes, he had pushed to stay home, preferring that he was babysat by someone he saw as his older brother, instead of being forced to go on a boring trip and go on a forced streaming break.

But he didn't quite think out how he'd pull off not regressing in front of either of the two of his friends, for a whole week. Tommy regressed the most when his parents weren't home, and now he couldn't do that.

All he could do is hope that he wouldn't slip, and that they wouldn't discover either of the two boxes under his bed. He'd quickly find that that was really hard when he had two friends that constantly teased and babied him.

"So, what should we do this week? Besides streaming and gaming, of course," Tubbo questioned from his spot where he laid on Tommy's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tommy shrugged, spinning a bit in his gaming chair.

His parents had left a few hours ago to catch their flight, after Tubbo and Wilbur were dropped off early that morning. Tubbo had gotten settled, and Wilbur took the responsibility of making them lunch. So now, the two teenagers sat in Tommy's bedroom.

"I don't know. We'll obviously film some videos," Tommy spoke casually, biting the inside of his cheek. All the excitement and anticipation had worn off, and now they were bored. Yeah, they could start a stream or boot up a game, but it felt right to just enjoy each others company. They had sat in silence for a while, their previous conversation falling off when they ran out of things to say, until one of them tried to start another.

Tubbo had gone through a lot of trouble with his parents to be there, doing everything he could to convince them that Wilbur was responsible enough to watch over him for a week. Tommy wasn't just gonna shove a mic in his face and tell him to entertain his twitch viewers.

"I have an idea!" Toby gasped, sitting up suddenly.

"What is it?" Tommy laughed a bit at his sudden realization, and how his friend had replied to it.

"We should take online quizzes together," he suggested. "Hogwarts house, personality type, whatever you want, and compare our results. You in?" he questioned, standing up and coming over to sit in the wooden chair to the left of Tommy's.

For now, the blonde had two of his kitchen chairs in his room, so that the three men could huddle up together at his PC for streams throughout the next week. "Sure," Tommy nodded a bit, booting up his computer.

"We should start with the Hogwarts House quiz, don't ya think?" Tubbo asked, watching him open his browser.

"Sounds good to me," Thomas agreed, following his suggestion and searching up the desired quiz.

After a handful of quizzes, most of which Tommy deemed "inaccurate" due to results that didn't make any sense to him, they took a "what animal are you" quiz. Tommy knew what his results would be, he's taken tests like this a million times.

It'd most likely label him as a cat. He figured that Tubbo would be none the wiser, clicking through the test and answering honestly. He was a little taken aback when the result screen specifically told him that he was a "kitten".

"Aww," Toby cooed in a teasing voice. "I thought that you might've gotten 'cat', but kitten? That's so cute." he laughed a bit.

"It's probably because they just put kitten in place for cat," Tommy scoffed, hoping with every ounce of his soul that he was pulling off the "shocked and annoyed" act, which he hoped covered up his nervousness.

"Let's see," Tubbo took control of the mouse, click on the drop down arrow next to the blue text that read 'All Possible Results'. "See! There is an option for cat, and it called you a kitten!" he cheered, causing Tommy to roll his eyes a bit.

"Whatever," he said, "It said you were a Golden Retriever, so..."

"Tom-Tom's a little kitty!" Tubbo ignored his statement, talking loudly in a sing songy voice. Tommy knew that he wasn't doing this to be mean, and that he was just joking around, but it did hurt a bit. Because he was a kitten sometimes, and it felt like his friend was making fun of it.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but the food is ready," Wilbur's voice joined the conversation, the older man suddenly appearing in Tommy's doorway. Tommy jumped to defend himself, but Tubbo got there first.

"We took an online quiz that said Tommy was a kitten! 'Cat' was an option, but it said that he was a little kitty," he laughed again.

"Oh, don't tease him." Wilbur said, "Those tests are crap anyway, I'm sure there was a question you misunderstood or something." he claimed as he came closer to them, standing behind the two chairs as he looked at Tommy's monitor. He could tell that the teasing was making Tommy a bit uncomfortable.

He didn't know why for sure, figuring that it had something to do with being called a 'kitten' feeling to childish for him. "Maybe," Tommy agreed, looking up to Wilbur thankfully. Tubbo must've realized that he accidentally upset Tommy when Wilbur intervened and Tommy immediately seemed relieved, because the next thing he did was apologize.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," he spoke up. "I was just teasing, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all good," Tommy smiled a bit, shrugging, feeling a little better with the reassurance that it was all just a joke. "Most of the tests were crap anyways."

The three of them shifted their conversation to other topics, making their way out to the kitchen to eat the food Wilbur made. Later on, they all gathered up blankets and pillows and snacks to watch movies in the living room.

Tommy was a little worried that the Disney movie Wilbur picked would make him go into littlespace, but that seemed to be the least of his worries as they tried to figure out their cuddling positions for the movie. Of course, they didn't need to cuddle, but it seemed that they all silently agreed that they would be.

"I wanna lay down," Tommy whined, re positioning a pillow near one end of the couch.

"Come here, you crybaby," Wilbur ordered, grabbing his arm. Tubbo was curled up to Wilbur's side, one of the older mans arms around him as he settled into the warmth of the embrace.  Wilbur guided him into laying down so that his head was in his lap, a few layers of soft fabric between their skin.

Tommy didn't fight against this, blushing just a bit as he curled up, letting Wilbur lay a blanket over him. "Is this okay?" he asked in a soft voice, looking down as him. Tommy nodded softly, glancing up at him for a moment before he looked away shyly. Why was he so bashful right now?

"Cuddly," he mumbled simply, settling into the position mindlessly. Wilbur seemed pretty amused by this, using his nails to scratch his scalp, the action not unlike how he'd scratch a kitten's head if one curled up in his lap. Again, Tommy didn't protest, leaning into the touch a bit.

Wilbur continued doing things like this as the movie played, sitting back and lightly petting the boy. He'd play with his hair, or run his fingers over his skin in simple patterns. It was just a cute way of showing affection, and the blonde teenager seemed to enjoy.

Meanwhile, Tommy was holding back kittenspace and trying to focus on the childish movie. His petspace was voluntary, to his knowledge. But Wilbur treating him like a cat, giving him the simple affection he's secretly wanted for so long, made him want to regress to the state of a kitty so bad. He was halfway there already.

He just wished that he could put on his little cat ears. He always looked to cute when he did.

His friends did notice that he stayed very quiet throughout the movie, not really replying to their joked or adding onto their commentary of the movie. They didn't say anything, though, assuming that he was just sleepy earlier than usual, joking amongst themselves as the plot of the movie played out on the screen.

At one point near the end of the movie, Wilbur reached over and scratched the patch of hair closest to Tommy's ear, earning a hum from him. It sounded much closer to a kitten's pur, which shocked Wilbur. He looked over to Tubbo, leaning close to him and whispering, "He really is a little kitten, huh?" as he continued to scratch his scalp.

Toby giggled a bit, nodding in agreement. Tommy seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing when Wilbur pulled his hand away for the time being, cutting out his low hum and burying his now-red face in the blankets across Wilbur's lap.

Wilbur could help but think about how cute he looked doing that, immediately feeling the need to cuddle the boy close and protect him.

Eventually the credits started rolling, and Wilbur told the boys to get off of him. Tubbo did it with little complaining, stretching a bit and standing up with a yawn. Tommy, however, completely lost in his kitten space as this point, whined, pouting.

"I know you're comfy, and probably sleepy, but it's time to get up, Toms." Wilbur told him, fighting against the urge to just push him off the couch. Yes, it'd be funny, but it'd also be mean. Wilbur didn't wanna upset him.

When Tommy didn't reply, remaining curled up with his head in Wilbur's lap, the pet his head softly once again, pushing back the blanket that laid over him a bit. Immediately, Tommy switched his position so that he was laying on his back, swiping his hand at Wilbur's, scratching him a bit.

Like a playful kitten.

Wilbur gasped, seemingly confused as he tilted his head. He dropped the blanket, pulling the attacked hand to his chest defensively. Tommy didn't hurt him all the much but he did just try to scratch him in response to his blanket be taken away. It was funny, and cute, but also confusing. "Ouch! Why'd you do that?" Wilbur asked, pulling his hand away immediately.

Tommy pouted up at him, not knowing exactly how to verbally apologize. He decided on his next actions, rolling over so that he was on his stomach and stretching out. He then adjusted himself so that he was on his knees and hands, looking at Wilbur with a slight head tilt.

There was still a clear pout on his face, his eyes innocent and cute. "What are you doing?" Wilbur chuckled, not understanding his behavior. He couldn't blame all these absolutely adorable actions on being sleepy, surely. He was acting like a kitten, undeniably.

"He's a kitten!" Tubbo said, coming closer to him and scratching Tommy's head. Tommy nuzzled into his hand as he leaned into the touch. "Pet regression," he remembered the name for it, saying it suddenly a few moments later. "I thought Tommy might've been a little but I didn't know about this."

"What?" Wilbur questioned, only more confused than before.

"I think Tommy's an age regressor, and a pet regressor, too, apparently," Tubbo looked to Tommy for some sort of confirmation. Tommy nodded a bit, shyly, confirming both of his guesses. "He can revert back to the state of a child, and also a kitten! He's in a cat-like headspace, so he's going to act like a baby kitty." Tubbo giggled, wiggling his fingers over Tommy's head and watching as he swatted at it. Toby pulled his hand away at the last second.

"I researched age regression because Tommy was acting a bit childish during a late night call a while back, and came across petre too," Tubbo added. "I was planning on asking him about the little thing while I was here, actually."

Tommy didn't know that Tubbo already knew. If anyone could've guessed, it would've been him. They were best friends. He'd call him a lot when upset, or stressed, to talk about what was bothering him. It wasn't a shock that the main person who saw him when he needed something to help him feel better had started to pick up on the traits that hinted toward the coping skill he used to feel better.

Wilbur seemed to understand. For whatever reason, Tommy liked acting like a cat. It was a sort of headspace that he could get into, that Wilbur must've accidentally triggered. Tubbo continued to play with and pet Tommy, explaining the basics of both age regression and pet regression to Wilbur.

"They can both be done for coping, voluntarily or involuntarily. It seems that all the cuddling and petting made him slip. I think he's nonverbal, too, at least as a kitten," Tubbo said, running his fingers through Tommy's hair. At some point, Tommy had sat down, still playing along and swiping at his hands here and there. Tubbo seemed so excited to play with him, and that made him happy!

"Agere and petre can intersect, too. So he might just act childlike with kitten-qualities mixed in," Tubbo continued to explained. "There's also pet gear and little gear, stuff you use when you get into those headspaces. Do you have any of that, kitty?"

Tommy nodded a bit, reaching over and pressing on Wilbur's shoulder, as if telling him to follow as he stood up. He didn't like traveling on all fours all the time in kittenspace, and would only crawl short distances. Otherwise, he would just walk like he would usually. Maybe skip, if he was in a good mood.

Wilbur followed his nonverbal request, following the two teenagers to Thomas's bedroom. Tommy dropped to the floor next to his bed, Tubbo following suit. Tommy pulled out one of the boxes, Toby grabbing the other. "So what is pet and little gear for?" Wilbur asked, curiously.

"I'm sure Tommy will be willing to tell you more when he's up to talking," Tubbo's words earned a slight nod as the regressor opened the box. "But it's basically stuff to help you according to the headspace your in. Comfort items, childish things for littlespace, stuff to make you feel more like a pet for petre."

"Like cat ears or collars for kittyspace!" he added with a chuckle as Tommy pulled those items out of the box, waving them around as an example. His cat ears were all on headbands. He had white and orange ones, black ones with little ribbons, another set with little bells, he didn't know which ones he wanted.

Tubbo realized that his box was little gear, sliding it back under the bed and focusing on Tommy, who seemed happy.

He bounced in place a bit, very excited and playful now, despite being sleepy before. He was happy! When Tubbo believed that his friend might've been different, instead of judging him, he researched a ton and then jumped in to help him when he needed it. And Wilbur, who didn't completely understand what was happening, was still being supportive, just asking questions.

He thought that they were gonna weird about it, or judge him. But here Tubbo was, playing with him and answering questions for him because he understood his nonverbalism. "When will he be....not a cat, anymore?" Wilbur pondered.

"Depends. Regression can last a few minutes to a few days, who knows. But while he's like this, we should make him comfortable, don't ya think?"

Wilbur hummed a bit. He could ask more questions later, directly to his friend that actually experienced this stuff and would be able to tell him more. For now, he'd do his best to make Tommy comfortable, like Toby had said.

Tommy grabbed the cat ears with the bells, white furred ones with pink inside the ear, little pink bows and gold bells on them. He shook it in his hand, like a rattle, listening to the music it made. He made a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a "meow", before giggling. "Did you cat those ears, Tommy?" Wilbur asked, softly taking the headband from him.

Tommy pouted, nodding as the ears were taken from his very pa- hands. He wasn't actually a kitten, he had human hands. He giggled at his own thoughts, snapping out of it when he felt the headband slip onto his head. Wilbur adjusted it.

"There." he stopped after a second, looking him up and down. "You're adorable," he complimented. Tommy blushed, smiling. He looked back down to the box, pulling out a white choker, which had another pink ribbon in the front, with a larger, silver bell hanging from it. He immediately put it on, fiddling with the bell.

"Did you wanna change? There's some clothes in that box," Tubbo asked. As expected, Tommy didn't verbally reply, digging through his box and pulling out a white adult onesie, designed to resemble a real baby one. It was plain, with pink lining, obviously picked out to go with the choker and cat ears.

"Aww," Wilbur cooed, immediately. "You want the onesie, sweetheart?"

Tommy nodded a bit, also grabbing pastel pink shortalls. He might've been happy, and seemingly comfortable, but he was not walking around in just a onesie. "That'll look cute together," Tubbo approved of his outfit choice. Tommy grabbed a few more things from the box, either setting it in a pile, or holding it in his arms.

He left to go to the bathroom, pushing the box back under the bed and leaving without another word. "What all did he pull out?" Tubbo asked, looking to the pile with curiosity.

"A stuffed kitten," Wilbur stated, looking at the white stuffed toy. "It seems that he dressed up to look like this toy," he chuckled. Tubbo laughed, too. "Uh, there's a ball of yarn, and a little white ball?" he sounded curious, picking it up. Quickly, Wilbur realized that it rattled.

"Oh, he likes things that make sounds," Tubbo reasoned. "Rattles and bells. That's cute," Tubbo smiled. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, a pink scarf." Wilbur replied. "Does he just play with anything?" he laughed.

"Isn't that what actual cats do? They scratch at and play with anything in sight," Tubbo joked.

"Fair enough."

They kept talking until they heard shuffling by the door. There, stood Tommy, clad in his cute little, perfectly planned-out outfit. Just his presence earned coos from his friends, who immediately complimented him. "You look so adorable, kitten!" Wilbur said, motioning him over. Tommy approached them, dropping to his knees and hands when he got close to them, 'pouncing' across the carpet.

He giggled, returning to his previous sitting position next to his pile, grabbing the stuffed kitty. "You look just like your toy, y'know." Tubbo told him. Tommy smiled wide, as if he was proud of this fact, nodding quickly. He wore knee-high socks with his out, white and pink striped to match the rest of the outfit. It seemed he took pride in color-coordinated, cute outfits, unlike when he was in his usual headspace. He usually just threw on a baseball shirt and jeans.

"She kitty, and m' kitty too," he mumbled, speaking for the first time since entering his kitten space earlier that day. He didn't talk much in kittenspace, he always had to pull himself into an "in-between" headspace to do so, but he could if he wanted or had to.

"Aww, the kitty can talk. Yes, you are both very adorable kittens," Wilbur cooed from his spot next to the regressor, wrapping his arms around him. Tommy melted into the embrace, nuzzling the side of his face into the part of Wilbur closest to him, his arm.

Tubbo didn't interrupt their moment, waiting for one of them to speak. After a bit of silent cuddling, Wilbur spoke up. "How about we all move back to the living room and set up a little play area for you, yeah? I'll turn on some cartoon, and make some snacks, and we can have fun until bedtime. Does that sound nice, kitty?"

He swayed in place a bit, moving Tommy with him. Tommy nodded excitedly. "Snuggles," he mumbled when Wilbur pulled away from their hug, pouting. "Snuggle me! M' a cute kitty!" he giggled, pointing to himself. He scrunched his nose a bit.

Tubbo and Wilbur knew that the boy was very different off camera. Sometimes, he was still loud, and cursed a lot, but others, he was chill. And apparently, he could be soft sometimes, too.

"I have no doubt about that," Wilbur chuckled, tapping the button of his nose with his index finger, Tommy swatted at it, a bit confused on what to do next when he successfully got ahold of his finger. He put his other 'paw' around it too, dragging his hand to his mouth and biting on his finger.

Wilbur pulled back his hand quickly, shocked. "Bad kitten! We don't bite," he scolded, tapping his head lightly with his hand. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know that he wasn't supposed to do what he just did. Tommy pouted again, his eyes immediately glossing over.

Again, he felt like he couldn't verbally apologize, to upset to pull himself out of headspace enough to talk. This frustrated him and only upset him more. He took the hand he had bit by the wrist, nuzzling his hand into it.

The main difference between Tommy in kittenspace and a real kitten is that he still had, at the very least, a child's level of emotional intelligence. Which meant that he was able to tell when people were upset with him. And he didn't like it when someone was upset with him.

He didn't have kitty teeth! Which meant that his bites hurt a lot more then a kitten's, he reasoned mentally. Wilbur was upset because he hurt him. Cuddles would make it all better, because cuddles made all boo-boos better, he decided.

"Oh, you're okay, baby," Wilbur assured, scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair again. "You didn't really hurt me," he said, as if he was able to read his mind. "You don't need to cry, little kitty."

Tommy kept nuzzling his hand, blinking away his unshed tears. Tubbo leaned close to Wilbur, whispering into his ear.

"Call him a good kitten."

Wilbur nodded, figuring that that made sense. Wilbur had reassured Tommy in every other sense, but he was still guilty. There was a good chance that his emotional response was to the term "bad kitten!".

"You're such a sweet, good kitten."

As predicted, his head perked up at that. He tilted his head, as if to ask 'really?'. "A very adorable, sweet baby kitten," Wilbur ran his fingers through Tommy's hair, his words and affection earning a smile from the pet regressor. "Let's gather up these toys and go set up in the living room, kay? Is there anything else that you need?"

Tommy nodded shyly, crawling over to the edge of his bed and pulling out the little box. He located a light pink plastic item, holding it up. "No more bitin'," he said, slipping the adult pacifier into his mouth. It only added to the childish look.

Wilbur and Tubbo smiled at him. Wilbur was glad that he picked the right cuddling position that somehow led to this, and Toby was glad that he did all that research over the past few weeks. And they were all glad they had planned this one week meet up.

They moved out to the living room, where they played and watched cartoons late into the night. The following morning, Tommy thanked the two of them for everything, and they had an honest conversation about it, telling them everything. How long he had been regressing, both for little and kitten space, how often he did it, when he got all the little and kitten gear.

Wilbur and Tubbo asked a ton of questions, and Tommy answered every single one. Over the next week, between streams and video-filming, Tommy would regress and let his friends learn more about little him, and kitty him. Who Wilbur and Tubbo started calling 'Tom-Tom', by the way.

Eventually, Wilbur would become Tommy's caregiver and handler, after babysitting him over discord calls many, many times. All thanks to that one week visit.

Tommy was so glad he ended up slipping that night, even if it was inconvenient at first. Everything worked out in the end, and he wouldn't change the events of that night if he could.  

It all led to him being Wilbur's 'good kitten'.

--

A/N: let me know if you have requests for any agere/age dreaming/pet regression fics involving some of the DreamSMP members, lmk! I may not write it, due to not knowing to much about a specific youtuber or being uncomfy w/the prompt, but I always love hearing ideas! Please leave feedback/your thoughts on this in the reblogs/replies/my ask box too, I definitely would like to hear them! I hope y'all enjoyed, I spent a while writing this and I hope it makes *someone* happy!

-Apple

[sleepymccoy]

Hello! I wanted to ask you this bc I really admire your work and blog, and I get the sense that you're a person who can tackle nuance well (and I believe this topic deserves it). I've tried wording this as best as I could, and I'm sorry that it's very long.

I've started getting the impression that some parts of the Good Omens fanbase have been sort of contained, if that makes sense. I feel like small creators have a hard time getting attention to their work anymore. As if people are only looking at the same handful of established creators nowadays (and that those creators are only looking at one another). And by extension, content really only gets attention if it's liked/shared by certain people. And then on top of that, it really constricts a lot of topics in fic and art that get appreciated.

I know that the hype for Good Omens has died down in the past year and that explains a major dip in interest, but I still feel there's an imbalance. I see genuinely good work overlooked time and time again, and I worry that my own work has been looked over bc it simply hasn't been deemed a fan favorite. For a while it looked like there was an effort to boost smaller creators, but it's seems like it phased out pretty quickly. I will be honest, it's been a little discouraging. It feels like the Good Omens fanbase is a club a lot of us have been almost excluded from.

I wanted to know if I'm just imagining this whole scenario or if it's a thing others have noticed? If others have noticed, what can we do to spread some love?

I'm sorry if this came off the wrong way or like I'm scolding people. Or like I'm whinging like a needy child not getting enough attention. I'm curious and was wondering if it was worth asking someone else about. Thank you for reading! And thank you for responding if you do!

Hey! Thanks for all the compliments lol, that’s lovely of ya

I doubt i’ll be as succinct as you managed.

Overall, I agree. I don’t think you’re imagining things at all and I’ve certainly also noticed a decline in interest in my stuff since the start

This is a total theory, but I’m gonna put it forward cos it makes sense to me. When Good Omens started up everyone followed a load of people to get at the content and were reblogging and engaging all over the place. Spiderwebs of followers were formed. I think there are blogs who end up being more influential than others, it depends on what youre looking for in the fandom who that is for you, but there are always big sort of blogs that just reblog content to share it. I think they’re the things that change.

Cos what happens is interest wanes. Fans move on and go somewhere else. If you’re following and relying on a blog to show you lots of new art and they’re just not doing it any more, then you’re sort of left just seeing the popular stuff that gets cyclically reblogged.

For example, i was following, with notifications on, a blog that reblogged every bit of poc good omens fan art they came across. total mixed bag of quality, but it was fantastic and picked up blogs that were completely unknown to me. The person running it got tired and moved on, so i don’t have access to that any more. It’s a lost thread in my little spiderweb of access that cuts me off from so much and it’s a real loss

Alternatively, and this is the trap i fall into, you follow creators. Like what you said! So, when I see a post i like very much i go straight to OP and (after checking they’re not a terf or aphobic) i follow. This means i get new content from the source rather than relying on someone elses taste to have a chance of seeing it myself. However, it also means i’m not following many blogs that focus on reblogging a range of content, so i miss newcomers. I’m not ignoring newcomers, i simply don’t see them

Both approaches to who you follow come with the curse of as the fandom gets older, you don’t have a clear way to find new content or creators. There’s an early bird gets the worm element to it all

There’s also tumblr weird bad habit of not reblogging things. People who run personal blogs rather than themed blogs will like something and consider their work done, but that does nothing to help new art or new artists, cos it’s not permeated yet. That kills new content and content creators pretty thoroughly

So yeah, i think there’s a lot going on there, but you’re certainly not making it up and a lack of engagement on your posts isnt an indication that people don’t like it, it just means people haven’t seen it or have fallen for their habit of not reblogging things they really ought to share.

In terms of fixing this? That’s a toughie.

I don’t have a fix, but i agree the lethargy is tiresome. It’s a constant effort to get something to take off, i have to reblog stuff four or five times before it starts moving beyond my immediate sphere of influence. But it makes sense, there are less fans and the fans there are aren’t out looking for new people to follow.

but i don’t like ending on a negative, so i’ll talk about some options or ideas! even though i don’t have the kind of influence someone would need to be heard

In my perfect world (and i repeat this is my day dream, i do not pretend it is well thought out or fair for all) i would remove the like function; either reblog it or you don’t get to keep an access. I would see more blogs that reblog content to a theme. I would see blogs that search out new creators. I would see newsletters that name new creator blogs that have engaged recently. I would see blogs that make it a challenge to themselves to reblog art and fic that has less than 100 notes. I would see more low stress fan events, more prompt lists and less organised zines.

But that’s all a lot of work for individual people to take on (except the likes vs reblogs thing, but that a real personal dislike of mine). I’ve tried to take part, I run @goodomensevents which is a blog where i reblog any general community event on tumblr that doesn’t cost money to take part in. But i don’t really think it has much impact, cos i thought of it too late in the game and no one wants to follow new good omens blogs anymore.

which i understand. i’m happy with my dash, i don’t feel like it’s lacking. I love who i follow. my mutuals talk to me and aren’t cunts. And i have no idea how to find new creators even though i may want to.

But hey, if anyone’s running a blog like what i’ve described, please send me a link! Maybe i’ll make a rec list on good omens events lol, see what happens. I’ll definitely follow you