#GET ME OUT OF MY FLOP ERA PLEASE

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[dix0nspretty]

Ask Nicely

Summary: You decide to let König have what he wants- and your poor couch suffers for it.

König x F!Reader, 1.1k words

Era: N/A

TW: thigh fucking, sub!König, violation of a couch lol. Temporary and accidental orgasm denial.

Day 3 of my bastardized version of Russian Roulette Febuwhump/Kinktober for March that I'm affectionately calling Trinket's Cause of Death. It's basically 50/50 whump/kink where I generate a number corresponding to a prompt.

Day 3: Thigh kink with König (kink)

It’s hell trying to keep König’s hands off you in general, the mountain of anxiety disguised as a terrifying Colonel and your partner not exactly an easy person to boss around.

You know that the easiest way for him to ground himself is through physical contact, but you didn’t think that would mean sticking his hand up your shirt to grope at soft flesh in the middle of a train station or holding you like a teddy bear in his lap while at the bar. The contact isn’t unwanted, not by any means, but it can be a hindrance- especially given his propensity for the squishier parts of you.

Working in the front garden, for example, is difficult to do when he won’t get his hands off your ass. Cleaning his hard with him nipping at your calves and heels figuratively and literally, the freak.

Forget trying to focus on anything that involves you sitting still because he pounces like a 6’11” puppy, hands and teeth and lips aching for a taste of you. Your thighs take the brunt of it, always bruised by his overeager hands and tacky with his dried spit. In hindsight, maybe the dress was an unintentional provocation, and he was all too quick to take the bait. The second you flopped onto the couch in that creamy dress, his head was buried in your lap. He’s so hungry for a piece of your pillowy flesh that his hood is forgotten, drenched through with slobber as he mouths at the fabric in an attempt to get at you.

“Please, liebling,” König begs as he shoves his head under the flowing skirt, drenching your skin in hungry drool. “Let me. Let me, let me.”

His gigantic hands cling to your legs, forcing them open so he can shove his head in like a curious dog, nipping hard enough you squeak. You didn’t wear any underwear today, which König takes as invitation to bury his nose in your cunt with a long sniff. “Slutty Schatz,” he mumbles to himself as he laps at your core before going back to the real object of his infatuation- your thighs. It’s enough to draw a needy whine from your own lips.

“Wait.”

Your heads paw and push at his head to try and detach him and for a few moments, it’s like trying to move a brick wall before he relents with a tortured sigh. “Ja?”

Once you can catch your breath, albeit still being driven insane with each needy puff of König’s panting still under your skirt and keeping you soaked and needy, you speak. “Ask nicely. If you… if you ask me nicely, I’ll let you fuck my thighs. This one time.”

Never in your life have you seen the Austrian move so quickly, yanking his head from between your legs and looking at you with near-feral eyes as pleas flow from his lips in a messy combination of German and English that you only catch some of. “Bitte, bitte, do not tease, ja? Will be so good, won’t even make a big mess, ich werde so gut sein-“ You have to capture his cheeks, still hidden under that drenched hood, and squeeze to get him to stop. “König. Breathe. Get some air, calm down.”

The whine he lets out is enough to make you want to ride him until he’s nothing but a sobbing submissive mess, but you relent. “You can do it okay? Yeah? Let’s just-“ König doesn’t let you finish your sentence, using that strength he does his best to play down to spin you around and bend you over the back of the couch, so far over you have to splay your hands out over the back to keep from tilting over. “Will be so good liebling,” he pants and whines. The sound of a belt being fumbled with is audible before the sound of a zipper and suddenly the hot and soaked tip of your partner is pressing into the back of your thigh. “I will even clean the mess, ja? Make you cum too, I swear, Schatz. Now stay.” “Wait König, not on the couch-“

He ignores you entirely, manipulating your thighs to be squeezed shut and tight before pushing himself between them with a moan of pure desperation. “Ah-! Danke, danke, Schatz, danke- ah!” The shove of him between your inner thighs has you moaning as well, the hot thickness of König slick with pre-come shoving between the soft flesh has him grinding against your core, coaxing arousal to coat the both of you and ease his thrusts. “Fuck-”

Each thrust gets rougher from him until you’re relying entirely on gravity and the one hand he has on your waist to keep you from tipping over the couch, the other preoccupied keeping your thighs nice and tight.

It’s filthy and debauched, but fuck, it feels good. Although König is clearly getting more out of it than you are, based on the way you’re nearly immobile with his heavy weight pinning you down. The couch back is pressing into your ribs, but the pleasure is enough to forget the pain. “Pretty fucking thighs,” König whimpers into your ear, huffing and puffing as his hips slam into yours with a slap of flesh. “Look so good with my cock between them, liebling. Danke, danke, danke- I’m�� werde abspritzen, fuck, going to p… ah! Paint this pretty skin white. Like this, Schatz?”

“K- König,” you whine, clawing at the couch fabric. That delicious heat is curling up your thighs, so close. So close…

There’s a hot spurting between your legs, thick creamy cum coating the insides of your thighs as König moans your name and the couch creaks and snaps, one of the legs collapsing under the abuse of your bodies. His hands are tight enough to leave dark purple marks, which you’re becoming aware of as your orgasm is snatched from you with a pathetic sob. His hips slow and he drops heavy down on top of your body, just short of crushing you like a bug under a boot. You can’t help but feel cheated getting your orgasm stolen, but at least he got off… “Shhh, Schatz,” he whispers into your ear once he catches his breath, brushing your hair back to press soft kisses to your temple and cheekbone. “Sh. You will get yours, I won’t leave my liebling hanging, hm? Shhh. You will get to come, baby.” A desperate noise pulls from our throat before you speak in a shaky tone. “Gonna need a new cou-” When König uses the combination of fluids to slide into you, bottoming out in one go, the last coherent thought you have is that at least the broken couch’s upholstery is spared any more filth.

[hoonvrs]

CIGARETTES — s. jaeyun smau

PAIRING jake x fmr

SYNOPSIS where university student jake develops a little crush on the girl he sees with a cigarette between her lips in the smoking area and decides he needs to impress her. how else would he do that except calling his smoker friend to teach him how to smoke ( spoiler: it doesn’t go so well. )

GENRE smau, fluff, crack, sprinkle of angst if you read it upside down, golden retriever x black cat duo

FEATURING ( enha ) all, ( ive ) gaeul, yujin, ( nct ) chenle, jisung

WARNING smoking [ don’t smoke kids ], swearing, kys/kms/suicide jokes, friendly bullying, dirty/sex jokes ( more will be added if necessary)

STATUS completed

TAGLIST ( CLOSED )

S. NOTE JAKE MY MANNN ( hoon look away ) as an 02z girl i finally have an smau for each bias so i feel v complete

also please don't spam like as it shadowbans me and lessens engagement <3

PROFILES

virgin mary’s | smoking HAWT | privs

CHAPTERS

01 BI yourself

02 we found love in the smoking area

03 life is roblox

04 you white whore

05 jake you beautiful bastard

06 are we rush houring rn

07 it’s the dawg in me

08 yuh :3

09 the brit

10 what if i was suicidal .

11 here comes christian bale

12 i don’t trust him. weird fella

13 give us another sonnet english boy

14 bros from yapan

15 he thinks he’s a 90s babe

16 i’m just a girl

17 i’m sat.

18 go piss girl

↳ extra: did life360 tell you that.

19 i got my peaches out in jojo

20 okayy little miss poet

21 i’m built different

22 WAHHHHHHW WAAHHH

23 i want you

24 why are u bricked up

25 PUKA PUKA POW POW

26 jake in his flop era

27 this is getting too homoerotic

28 they go low i go lowER

29 inshallah he will eat

30 hello ross lynch

31 filthy omega

32 u r sobir. die (+written 0.8k)

33 she shoiodv be inde clubbb…..

34 when he makes you his girlfriend

35 can’t take me anywhere

36 noo you’re so sexy haha

37 no. (+written 0.7k)

38 i feel so kawaii today

39 come home fat

40 wasn’t very dabatayo of you jay.

↳ extra: it’s actually dattebayo*

41 ur man can’t drive manual

42 i Want you so bad

43 hawk putuh

44 okay blondie

45 though shalt not fail, but prevail

↳ extra: random

EP1 upset my girl. i’m gonna Kms

EP2 im not smoking that shit

EP3 OUR girlfriend ☭

copyright © hoonvrs 2023 all rights reserved

[ifwdominicfike]

after a long day dilf!chris decides to show you how fed up his with how much you’re so spoiled

── .✦. ──

“you just take and take and take- fuck — til y’get everything that you want right, so fucking spoiled.” his thrusts now rough and slow, hitting that same spot each time making you cry out his name.

he has you bent over his office desk while having a tight grip on your wrists behind your back, you try your hardest to wiggle out of his hold but nothing seems to work and you just stopped trying. the feeling of his cock drilling into you over and over again is making your brain turn to mush.

“i asked you a fucking question, answer me or m’not gonna let you come. we can be here all night if thats what you want baby..”

his hips piston into you one last time before he stills, waiting for you to answer. “don’t w-want to..” you can hear his smug laugh, “oh.? alright then baby..” you whine once more, “no, no please — i’ll s- say it please-” your voice now quiet and whiny, you feel him pull out completely and start to stuff himself back into his pants.

“NO! please please- i’ll do it.. promise” you turn around and try to grab at him, putting his hands on your waist trying to convince him to not stop. now you’re looking at him, taking in the sight of his bare chest and pants with the button still popped open, showcasing his raging hard on bulging against the zipper.

“well? m’waiting, or you just gonna stare at me like a needy girl begging for m’dick.” he grips onto your hips and pushes you up against the hard wood, his bulge now rubbing up against your bare cunt.

you hold onto the desk to brace yourself, you slowly grind against him while mumbling, “m-m’spoiled..” he gives you a smug grin before hauling you up onto the cold surface.

before you know it he’s drilling into you once more, with a hand tangled in the roots of your hair making you hold eye contact with him. “fuck look at you.. so pretty f’me when you listen, yeah?” he groans when he feels you clench around him, your thighs cant help but tremble — not when he’s going this rough on you.

with shaky hands you go to rub your clit, needing the extra stimulation to push you over the edge you’d been teetering for a good minute. his gaze shifts over to your pathetic attempt at getting yourself off and he swats at your hand.

“nuh uh, y’tell me what you want. y’dont deserve to touch yourself baby..”

you whine in frustration, he gives you a faux pout and brings his hand down to your clit. his thumb rubbing you in a slow and teasing way, “this what you wanted? m’dick nit enough for you or what?” he taunts.

“n-no! no please just — need it please oh fuc-“ you’re cut off by your own orgasm taking over, your legs wrap around his waist pulling him in deeper than ever. “yeahh jus’ like that, thats m’girl” he praises, your face digs into his neck while he continues to chase his own release.

he follows right behind you and stills inside you, groaning as he paints your insides. “fuck sweetheart, so good for me.. best girl ever.” you mumble into him agreeing, not having the energy physically say anything.

“even though you’re spoiled rotten though right?”

“s’all you’re fault..”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

will this get me out of my flop era 🙁🙁🙁 if it flops im quitting

taglist - @http-bellaa @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @chrisbrowser @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott @cherrynflowergarden @thinkshespretty @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @chaossturns @emely9274 @sturn777 @sturns-mermaid @st7rnioioss @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @pip4444chris @amyiasturnl @tezzzzzzzz @mattsstarlet @matts-wife @theyluvivi @raysmayhem-72

[mywitchyblog]

Why i will Nver take Antis seriously

Okay, let’s talk about why I will NEVER take anti-shifters seriously. 💀 These people seriously think they’re serving some type of intellectual argument, but let’s be real—they’re just pathetic dick riders with no valid point to make. Sweetie, they think they can just hop on some anti-shifting bandwagon, pretend to be “woke,” and act like they know better than us. But we know the truth, and it's so obvious how weak and desperate they are. The only reason they’re even talking is because they can’t handle the fact that the shifting practice is real, and people are out here thriving while they’re stuck in their flop era. 🙄

I usually just scroll right past the negative content, but one day I saw this video that made me roll my eyes so hard I almost gave myself a headache. This girl is doing a makeup tutorial, all casual and cute, and then she drops the bomb: “Remember when we all used to shift in 2020? Can we admit that it was all a lie?” Like, girl, please. 💅 Immediately, the comment section is filled with people agreeing, “Yeah, it was just lucid dreaming.” “It was maladaptive daydreaming.” Sweetie, no. Just no. You’re out here acting like you have some epiphany, but it’s really just you looking for attention because, let’s face it, you’ve got nothing else going on. 💔

Here’s the thing: If you’re gonna pretend like you’re some kind of expert on shifting, at least do the work. At least try to understand what it actually means to shift, and not just repeat what everyone else says. 🧐 This girl comes out here saying she “shifted” and was “diagnosed with schizophrenia.” Girl. I had to pause and check if I was still watching the same video, because that was a whole mess. You’re throwing around terms like mental health issues just to sound edgy and relatable? Nope. Let’s be clear: schizophrenia is not something you just casually throw around to justify some half-assed clout-chasing narrative. If you really shifted, you wouldn’t be out here trying to “debunk” something you clearly never tried to understand in the first place. You pretended to shift for attention, and now that the hype died down, you decided to flip the script and start bashing shifting because it didn’t give you the clout you wanted. Pathetic. 🤭

And let’s not forget how she conveniently chose to make this video the one that blows up. 5.2 million views, girl? 😱 But the rest of your videos barely make it to 5k? Sis, we see you. We see how this is the only way you can get any traction. Your “I’m exposing shifting” video is your only shot at relevance, and it’s clear as day that you’ve jumped on this anti-shifting bandwagon just to get some views. The flop era is real, and it’s showinggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg. You had one moment where you got some attention, but the rest of your content is crickets. 🦗 I mean, honey, if you were actually serving something real, you wouldn’t have to rely on dragging people down to make a name for yourself. 🤦‍♀️

The truth is, she’s out here just riding whatever trend gets her noticed. That’s all she’s doing. When shifting was trending in 2020, she hopped on the wave pretending to be a part of it, and now that it’s not the "in" thing anymore, she’s throwing it under the bus to stay relevant. She’s the definition of a dick rider. Trying to latch onto whatever’s popular and ride the wave for as long as she can. But we see you, and it’s not cute. 🙄 You thought this was your moment to “expose” shifting and act like you’re somehow above it, but you’re just showing how desperate you are for attention. You're chasing views like a lost puppy, and it’s pathetic.

And don’t even get me started on that comment section. Why are these people agreeing with her, parroting the same old tired “shifting is just lucid dreaming” nonsense? Where are the real thinkers in this comment section? Sweetie, if you want to speak on something, at least educate yourself before you start spreading false info. 🙅‍♀️ It’s like y’all are too lazy to actually look into shifting, spiritual hygiene, and the depth of the practice. But instead, you’re just echoing a 2020 “shiftTok” narrative, regurgitating outdated and ignorant opinions like it’s fact. I’m honestly embarrassed for you. Do your research or stop talking. Simple as that. 🧠💡

The truth is, these anti-shifters don’t care about anyone’s mental health. They’re not “protecting” anyone; they’re just mad that they couldn’t get in on the trend or didn’t put in the effort to understand it. They want to act like they’re doing some grand thing by “debunking” shifting, but all they’re really doing is exposing their own ignorance. Like, sweetie, just admit you’re jealous. You couldn’t get the attention shifting gave others, and now you’re bitter about it. 😝 You couldn’t connect with the practice, so you’re going to try and tear it down. But guess what? It’s not working. 😘

Let’s talk about the bigger picture here. The real shifters—the ones who do the work, who research, who respect the practice and the boundaries it requires—we’re still out here, and we’re still shifting. We’re still growing, we’re still thriving, and we’re not letting some random, clout-chasing person get in the way of our personal journeys. The real shift doesn’t come from attention or clout; it comes from within. It comes from dedication, intention, and respect for what we’re trying to achieve. And trust me, anyone who genuinely shifts knows it’s an empowering, transformative experience—not something to be mocked. 💫👑

So to all the fellow shifters out there, don’t let these clowns get to you. Don’t let their negativity and petty arguments distract you from your journey. You are doing something real, something powerful. While they’re stuck in their flop era, we’re out here creating new realities, growing, and elevating ourselves in ways they’ll never understand. Keep going. Stay true to your path. And remember: the truth speaks for itself, and the real ones will always rise above the noise. ✨💖 Keep shifting, keep evolving, and never let anyone who doesn’t understand the practice try to dim your light. You’re not in the same lane as them—and you never will be. 👑💫

[dixons-sunshine]

Bedtime Shenanigans | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: There was no denying that when it came to parenthood, Daryl was an amazing dad. Your daughter adored him and he absolutely adored his daughter, maybe a bit too much. He let her get away with a lot, so to get back at him, you placed him on a duty more impossible than fighting off a herd with your bare fists—getting your daughter ready for bed.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, no arc in particular.

Warnings: Like one swear word.

Word count: 964.

A/n: Requested by @darylsdelts. This isn't really that good but I hope you like it nonetheless! I really wanted to get this done for you. (I haven't forgotten the uncle!Daryl thing you sent my way. I haven't completed season 11 yet so I'm not too comfortable with writing for the Commonwealth yet. As soon as I finish it, it will be written. Sorry for the wait!)

“Hazelnut, I'mma need ya to calm down now. S'bedtime,” Daryl practically begged for the hundredth time in five minutes, desperately trying to calm down the hyperactive three year old that took great pleasure in doing anything but what was asked.

Hazel giggled and continued jumping on the bed, completely disregarding her father's request. “No,” she laughed as she continued jumping, nearly falling off of the bed in her excitement.

Daryl quickly moved to steady her to prevent the painful tumble to the ground, and sighed deeply when Hazel just went about jumping on the bed again. “Hazel, please,” he pleaded again. “Jus' please. M'tired and wanna go to bed as well. We can play again tomorrow, 'kay?”

Hazel slowed down and Daryl thanked his lucky stars. However, it was all a ruse, because his little girl gave him a big, toothy smile, a mischievous laugh, and resumed with her prior activities. “No.”

Daryl groaned and felt like tearing his own hair out. He loved his daughter with his whole heart. He loved his little girl more than almost anything else. However, her steadfast refusal to settle down for the night was wearing him thin, and he was beginning to believe your earlier statement—saying yes to everything she asked and allowing her to do whatever she wanted would make her more prone to acting up. Daryl didn't want to believe what you had told him, but now he was starting to believe what you had told him was the truth.

“Hazel, sweetheart,” Daryl began in a soft voice, trying to push the irritation that was starting to form in him away. She was only a toddler. She didn't know any better. Yelling at her wouldn't get him anywhere. He sat down on the bed, the movement causing Hazel to fall flat on the bed, her giggles echoing through the small room. “Ya remember wha' Mama told ya the other day?” Hazel nodded and clambered into Daryl's lap, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Daryl smiled and hugged her back, his big hand softly caressing her back. “Then wha' did she say?”

“Bedtime is for sleep. Bedtime means to rest and be ready for more play time tomorrow,” Hazel relaid the message you had told her countless times before. “But, Daddy, I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna keep playing with you. We need to finish our teaparty.”

“I know, Hazelnut, I know,” Daryl whispered into her ear, slightly rocking from side to side. “But s'late. Both'a us need to go to bed or else we won't be in the mood to play tomorrow. Ya get me?”

Hazel nodded and Daryl breathed a sigh of relief. However, it was proved to be another ruse, because Hazel withdrew from Daryl's hold and started jumping around on the bed again, mischievous giggles falling from her lips. “No. Play time!”

Daryl sighed and shut his eyes. He was in for a long night.

You laughed as Daryl flopped down on the bed, the archer moving to cuddle up to you, his head finding its place on your chest. You placed your book down on the bedside table and wrapped your arms around your husband, your fingers softly threading through his hair. “Rough night?” you asked playfully, laughing when he groaned. “I'm impressed. Only took you an hour to get her settled down. I thought it would take longer.”

“She wouldn't listen,” he grumbled into your chest. “I love her, but she can be a real gremlin. Dun' feed 'em after midnight, righ'?” Daryl smiled when he heard you laugh. “Ya were righ'. I can't always let her do wha' she wants. I need to establish some rules with her.”

You smiled and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “You know it doesn't mean that you're a bad dad, right?” When Daryl didn't reply, you lifted his head to look into his eyes. “Hey, I mean it. Rules are simply made so that she can learn right from wrong. Do you know how hard it is for me to say no to her? I wanna give her everything she wants, but I can't, and that's okay. Rules are good. Rules help her learn that eating messily isn't always acceptable. Rules help her learn that refusing bath time is only okay for daddy, because daddy is too stubborn to listen to reason.”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess I can tell her to stop refusin' bath time.” He stopped and sent you an apologetic look. “M'sorry fer teachin' her the wrong things. I promise I'll be better.”

You smiled and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “I know you will. I love you.”

“I love ya too, Sunshine. So fuckin' much.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[iamthesilentwriter]

In Shadows We Meet

Draco Malfoy x Weasley!Fem!Reader

Summary: You know you’re not meant to, but you do. You and Draco have been secretly dating since the summer. What happens when your secret relationship is almost exposed? Or, the one where Ginny finds out.

Warnings: slight angst, some kissing

Authors Note: Hello! Sorry, I've ghosted you all. I have started/been writing a Marauders Era High School Foster Care AU, centered around Regulus and Sirius Black, over on AO3, under 'iamthesilentwriter'. It has literally become my newest hyperfixation and I've been really enjoying writing it. That doesn't mean I've completely stopped writing over here on tumblr, it's just posts will occur (hopefully) once every month, maybe more if I have multiple ideas. Thank you all for all your patience, and please enjoy my first Draco x reader oneshot!!

Word Count: 6,878

Navigation | Masterlist

Being Ginny’s twin is like living in the world’s worst nightmare. 

Your mother only wanted one daughter, so when she found out she was having twins, she wasn’t particularly thrilled. And if she had to have two, why couldn’t they at least be the same? 

You and Ginny are complete opposites. She is funny, outgoing, charismatic, while you are the polar opposite. You’re quiet, anxious, and observant. She thrives in the spotlight, while you prefer the shadows. Where Ginny rushes into adventure with reckless excitement, you hesitate, overthink, and hold yourself back. It has always been that way.

So, it was a surprise—even to yourself—when you started developing feelings for a certain boy your family despises. 

Draco Malfoy.

He gets you in all the ways your family cannot. He understands things about you that even you don’t understand. The way silence isn’t always loneliness, how words aren’t always necessary, how there is strength in restraint. 

You weren’t sure when it started—maybe it was the stolen glances across the Great Hall or the times you found yourself unconsciously searching for him in a crowd. But if you had to pinpoint the moment you truly met, it would be in Potions.

He’s fairly good at Potions, you are absolutely not. You were barely scraping by and the end of last year, and Professor Snape—never one to waste his time on hopeless cases—paired you with Draco for tutoring. 

A Malfoy and a Weasley. The irony of it wasn’t lost on you.

"You’re quiet today."

Ginny’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she flops down beside you in the Gryffindor common room, her gaze sharp and searching.

"I’m always quiet," you mutter, staring into the flickering fire.

Ginny snorts. "Yeah, but this is different. You’re brooding. You only do that when something’s on your mind." She nudges your arm. "Spill."

You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeve. Ginny knows you too well. But telling her? That’s a dangerous game.

Because if she ever found out the truth—about Draco, about everything—you’re not sure she’d ever forgive you.

You’re not sure if anyone in your family would ever forgive you. 

Sure, your eldest brothers—Bill, Charlie, and maybe even Percy—might forgive you. Considering the fact that they’ve always been more accepting, more willing to see beyond the surface. But Ron? The twins? Even your mum and dad?

You can almost picture their faces, a mix of disbelief and betrayal. Loving a Malfoy, of all people. It would be like tearing apart the very fabric of what it means to be a Weasley.

Ginny nudges you again, harder this time. “Hey, don’t go drifting off on me. What’s going on?”

You force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “It’s nothing, Ginny.”

Her eyes narrow, and you know she doesn’t believe you for a second. “It’s not nothing. You’ve been weird for weeks now. Even Mum noticed.”

Your heart sinks. Of course your mum noticed. Molly Weasley has a sixth sense for when something is off with her children. It’s only a matter of time before she corners you, demanding answers you can’t give.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you finally say, the words tasting half-true. “Schoolwork, you know?”

Ginny raises an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable. “You’ve never worried about schoolwork before. Even when you were failing Potions, you didn’t look this stressed.”

You wince at the mention of Potions, the memory of Draco’s steady gaze and patient explanations flooding your mind. How his fingers brushed yours when passing a vial, how his rare, soft smiles were like secrets shared only with you.

“Come on,” Ginny presses, her tone softer now, almost pleading. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your sister.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of expectation and trust. She’s your sister—your other half, your constant. But this? This is something you’re not sure you can ever share with her.

“I know, Gin,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “But some things are just… hard to explain.”

Ginny watches you for a moment, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. Finally, she sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You nod, the guilt pressing down on your chest. “I won’t.”

But as you glance back into the fire, the flickering flames seem to mock you with their restless dance. Because deep down, you know that as long as Draco Malfoy remains your secret, there will always be a part of you that Ginny—and the rest of your family—will never truly know.

It’s not like you want to keep your relationship with Draco a secret. It’s the fact that you have to. If his father ever found out about the two of you, he most likely would be disowned… or worse.

Draco started sending you cryptic letters the second summer started. It was your way of communication. Every letter was written in a carefully crafted code, disguised as harmless, impersonal conversation. 

To anyone else, they would seem like the ramblings of two bored students discussing Potions and Quidditch. But hidden between the words were secret messages, phrases only the two of you understood.

You remember the moment you realized what he was really saying. 

The first letter had been vague, almost like a test. “The potion ingredients you mentioned… I think they have more meaning than you realize.” You had been confused at first, rereading the words over and over until something clicked. He wasn’t talking about Potions at all.

And then the flowers started arriving.

At first, you thought they were a mistake, but no one in your family ever mentioned them. They would appear outside your window at The Burrow, tied with silver ribbon. A single stem at a time—deliberate, chosen with care.

You had to buy a book on flowers just to understand what they meant.

A blue cornflower—hope and anticipation. A white camellia—you’re adorable. A red tulip—declaration of love.

That was the one that made your heart stop.

That was the one that changed everything.

You kept every single one, hidden away in an old box under your bed. Pressed between pages of books, tucked into letters you never sent back. Proof that, for the first time, someone saw you. Not just as Ginny’s twin. Not just as another Weasley. But as you.

The fire crackles beside you, but your mind is elsewhere. With him.

“I’m going for a walk,” you say suddenly, standing from the couch.

Ginny frowns, tilting her head. “Now?”

You nod, grabbing your cloak. “Yeah. I just need some air.”

She watches you for a moment, as if trying to decipher something unspoken, but eventually sighs. “Alright. Don’t stay out too late.”

You murmur a quiet “I won’t” before slipping out of the common room, your heartbeat steady but quickening.

The castle is quiet at this hour, most students tucked away in their dormitories. You keep your footsteps light, making your way through familiar corridors, down winding staircases, until you reach the spot.

A small, tucked-away alcove near the entrance to the dungeons. A place no one ever pays attention to.

And he’s already there.

Draco leans against the stone wall, arms crossed, his pale hair illuminated by the dim torchlight. The moment he sees you, his expression softens.

“You’re late,” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in his tone.

You step closer, barely suppressing a smile. “I had to be careful.”

He studies you for a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out something small. When he extends his hand, your breath catches.

A flower.

A pink carnation.

I’ll never forget you.

You take it carefully, fingers brushing against his. Neither of you speaks for a moment, the silence filled with everything unsaid.

And then, softly, he says, “I missed you.”

Your fingers tighten around the delicate stem of the flower, your heart beating a little too fast. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve met Draco here more times than you can count, exchanged letters all summer, deciphered secret messages meant only for you. And yet, every time, the sight of him makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

His stormy grey eyes hold yours, searching, like he’s trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. Then, before you can process what’s happening, he leans in—just slightly, just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the scent of expensive cologne and parchment and something unmistakably Draco.

And then, softly, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

It’s brief—chaste, even—but it leaves your skin burning.

You’re sure he can hear your heartbeat. It’s embarrassingly loud in your ears.

You swallow hard, staring down at the pink carnation still nestled between your fingers. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you finally say it.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Draco exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and when you dare to glance up at him, there’s something unbearably tender in his expression. Like you’re something precious. Like you matter.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The castle is silent around you, the dim torchlight flickering against the cold stone walls. The world beyond these walls doesn’t exist. Not your family, not his, not the expectations, not the war that lingers in hushed whispers in the halls.

Just this. Just him.

Draco reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, hesitant but certain.

“You know,” he murmurs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, “one day, I’d like to do that properly.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face as you look away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Just fondness. Just the quiet kind of happiness you’re not sure you’ve ever had before.

You don’t say it, but you think it. I hope I’ll always be here.

It’s not some act of defiance you are trying to display. And, yes, you are aware of the fact that Draco has been nothing but horrible towards your family.

But he’s changed.

He’s stepped back. He’s stopped saying nasty things, he’s stopped bullying others, he’s stopped being… that person.

And, maybe, you had something to do with it. You don’t think Draco would ever admit it, though—however true it is.

You lean against the cold stone wall of your usual meeting spot, a quiet alcove near the entrance to the dungeons, just out of sight. It’s late, and the castle is hushed with the weight of the sleeping students inside it. You’ve just finished your prefect rounds, and exhaustion lingers in your limbs, but the anticipation of seeing him keeps you awake.

You think back to the first time you truly met him—not in passing in the halls, not in the context of family rivalry, but really met him.

Fourth year. Potions tutoring.

He had been annoyed at first, at Snape for forcing him to help a Weasley, at you for being so hopeless with brewing. You remember the sharp remarks, the condescending sighs. But you also remember the moment something shifted—that first time you understood something because of the way he explained it, the way his expression changed when he realized you weren’t as dull as he thought.

And now, here you are.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You barely have time to react before Draco steps into the alcove, his familiar scent washing over you—cologne, parchment, something distinctly him.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hand finds your waist, drawing you close, and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

It’s still new, this thing between you—the kisses, the way he touches you with something close to reverence—but it’s welcome.

Your breath stutters, but you melt into him easily, your arms winding around his neck. You tangle your fingers in his hair, soft and fair between your fingers, and he hums—a sound of quiet contentment that makes your heart swell.

When you finally pull back, your face warm, you barely manage a shy, “Hi.”

Draco doesn’t let go. He keeps you close, his thumb brushing slow circles against your waist. “Hello,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, like he doesn’t want to disturb the fragile moment between you.

You stay there, pressed against him, basking in the rare peace of just being. No expectations, no secrets to keep, no families to disappoint—just the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, he speaks.

“I think my mother knows.”

You freeze. Your entire body tenses in his hold, but Draco doesn’t let go.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still resting against his shoulders. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “Not about us?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But… I think she knows I’ve been seeing someone.”

You swallow, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. Of course she knows. Narcissa Malfoy is no fool. If anyone would notice the changes in Draco—the way he sneaks away, the way he seems lighter somehow—it would be her.

“How?” you whisper.

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me the other day if there was ‘a girl’ I was spending time with. She was… careful with her words, but she knows me too well.” He pauses, his gaze searching yours. “I didn’t confirm anything, obviously, but she knows.”

You nod slowly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Draco is quiet for a moment, his grip on you tightening slightly. Then, with surprising certainty, he says, “Nothing.”

Your brows furrow. “Nothing?”

“She’s not like my father,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “She’s never cared about blood status the way he does. She wouldn’t approve, not openly, but… she wouldn’t stop me either.”

You exhale, a slow, measured breath. It’s not reassurance, not entirely, but it’s enough.

Draco watches you carefully, then leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I won’t let anyone take this from me,” he whispers against your skin.

And for now, that promise is enough.

But that promise doesn’t last long.

You’ve been agitated. Studying for the O.W.L.s is no joke.

Draco has been understanding in every way that matters.

He doesn’t complain when you’re too exhausted to sneak away as often as you used to. He doesn’t sulk when your letters become shorter, your handwriting rushed. Instead, he presses a kiss to your forehead when you do meet, tells you to take care of yourself, and reminds you—without words—that he’s still here.

But you haven’t been as careful.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re tired, distracted, too busy to think about every step you take. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. You’ve let your guard slip, just a little.

You’re just finishing up your meeting with Draco now, his hands warm on your waist as he lingers, reluctant to let go. He presses one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering, before murmuring, “Go. Before someone catches us.”

You nod, exhaling softly, before slipping away from him.

The castle is quiet as you make your way back, the corridors dimly lit with flickering torches. You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you turn a corner—

And walk straight into someone.

You stumble back, heart leaping to your throat, and when you look up, panic surges through your veins like ice.

Ginny.

She crosses her arms, her brows furrowed. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.”

Your mind races. Does she know?

You force yourself to stay calm, to school your features into something neutral. “Oh. Sorry, I was just—”

Ginny’s eyes narrow, scanning you, and you realize with horror that your lips are probably still a little swollen, your hair a bit mussed.

Think. Say something.

“You were just what?” she presses.

You swallow hard. “I—uh—prefect rounds. I lost track of time.”

Ginny doesn’t look convinced. “Really?”

Your stomach churns. You’ve been slipping up, you know you have. And now, with your sister standing in front of you, suspicion written all over her face, you’re not sure if you can lie your way out of this one.

“Uh-huh. Yep,” you say, nodding a little too quickly.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t have to say anything—the look on her face is enough.

“Sure you were,” she says, and then, with a tilt of her head, she adds, “but you’ve still got an hour.”

Your stomach drops. She caught me in my lie.

“Uhhh,” you stammer, scrambling for something—anything—to say. But your mind is completely blank.

Ginny watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, just as your panic reaches its peak, she does something unexpected.

She loops her arm through yours and starts walking, dragging you along toward the Gryffindor common room.

You blink, caught off guard, but let her lead you without resistance. The silence between you is thick, almost suffocating. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s from the near-disaster you just avoided or the fear that Ginny isn’t done questioning you yet.

Then, after a beat, she finally speaks.

“You have a boyfriend?”

You sigh, shoulders sagging. There’s no use denying it.

“…Kind of.”

Ginny hums. “How long?”

You hesitate. Then, quietly, you admit, “Since summer.”

She nods, as if that makes sense, then glances at you again. “Is it… Michael Corner?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Ginny nods again, almost thoughtfully. “Huh. He’s been acting weird lately too.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you keep your mouth shut, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

No such luck.

“What year is he in?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering. “…Sixth.”

Ginny hums. “Is he in Gryffindor?”

You shake your head.

She exhales, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”

You swallow. “I’m… not ready for anyone to know.”

Ginny studies you for a long moment, then nods, squeezing your arm gently. “I understand.”

You reach the Fat Lady’s portrait, and Ginny mutters the password. As the portrait swings open and you step inside, you can’t shake the unease curling in your stomach.

I’ve got to be more careful.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

You didn’t mean to get upset with Draco.

But you did.

It had been a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have escalated the way it did. You can still hear the sharp edge in your own voice, the way Draco’s expression had hardened, his frustration evident as he raked a hand through his hair.

“Why are you acting like this?” he had asked, voice laced with exasperation.

You had crossed your arms, your own irritation bubbling over. “I don’t know, Draco. Maybe because I’m exhausted? Because I have a thousand things to do and I can’t afford to get caught sneaking off every night?”

His jaw had clenched. “I never asked you to.”

And that—that—had been what set you off.

“Right. Of course you didn’t. But it’s still me risking everything, isn’t it?” you had snapped.

Draco’s expression had flickered—hurt flashing across his features so quickly you almost doubted it was ever there. But then his face had gone cold, distant.

“I didn’t realize I was such a burden.”

You had opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he had already taken a step back.

“I’ll give you space,” he had said, voice quieter now. “Since I’m clearly just making things harder for you.”

And then he had left.

That was nearly two weeks ago.

You haven’t spoken since.

It’s now the Christmas holidays, and you haven’t received a single letter from him. Not even the smallest, coded note. You’ve debated whether or not to send him something, but every time you pick up a quill, doubt creeps in.

What if he doesn’t want to hear from you?

So, you don’t write. And you’re miserable.

You’re snappish with everyone, your temper shorter than usual, your patience wearing thin over the smallest things. It’s only a matter of time before someone calls you out on it.

That someone, unsurprisingly, is Ginny.

She storms into your room one evening, arms crossed, her expression set.

“Alright, enough,” she says, planting herself in front of you. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You glare at her from where you sit on your bed, arms wrapped around your knees. “Nothing.”

Ginny scoffs. “Oh, please. You’ve been in a mood since we got home. Snapping at everyone, storming around like you’re about to hex the next person who breathes wrong—”

“I have not—”

“Yes, you have,” she interrupts, eyes flashing. “And I’m sick of it. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what.”

You open your mouth to argue again, but the lump in your throat is too thick. Instead, to your absolute horror, your vision starts to blur.

Ginny’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of your tears, but she doesn’t back down. If anything, she crosses her arms tighter, her stance firm.

“Oh,” she says, her voice quieter now. But there’s still frustration beneath it, an unwillingness to let this go. “So there is something wrong.”

You shake your head quickly, blinking hard, trying to push back the sting in your eyes. “It’s— it’s nothing, Ginny.”

She scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You flinch, and Ginny exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“You know, I’ve been patient with you,” she says, voice clipped, pacing at the foot of your bed. “We all have. We all thought, maybe, you just needed some space. But you’ve been awful to everyone lately. You barely talk to me, you snap at Mum every time she asks you something, you completely shut down whenever someone even tries to—”

“I said I’m fine,” you snap, but it comes out shakier than you intended.

Ginny whirls around, her brown eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. And I don’t get why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! I’m your twin, remember? The person who’s supposed to know when something’s wrong? But you won’t even let me in.”

Her words hit like a punch to the chest, and the weight of everything crashes over you all at once.

You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s like you can’t breathe. Your hands grip at your knees, your entire body going rigid as the pressure in your chest tightens, and suddenly—

The tears spill over.

You don’t mean to. You don’t want to. But once it starts, you can’t stop.

Ginny freezes. “Oh.”

Your shoulders shake, and you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to will the sobs back down.

Ginny hesitates for half a second before sitting down beside you, her voice softer now. “Hey…”

You shake your head, still unable to speak.

The bed shifts slightly as Ginny shifts closer. “Look, I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to make you cry, I just—” She sighs. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It’s stupid.”

Ginny sits on the bed beside you. “It’s clearly not.”

You exhale shakily, willing yourself to get a grip. But your voice is small when you finally admit, “I messed things up.”

Ginny stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve, carefully keeping details vague. “I got into an argument with… someone. And now, I think I’ve lost him.”

There’s a pause. Then, something shifts in Ginny’s expression. It’s like something clicks.

“…You’re in love with him.”

You freeze.

The words send a jolt through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Love.

You hadn’t— You weren’t—

Except… you are, aren’t you?

Your heart pounds, your entire body going still. You think of Draco—his sharp wit, his rare smiles, the way he looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. You think of his hands at your waist, the warmth of his touch, the quiet, careful way he had let you set the pace.

You think of how much it hurts to be apart from him.

“…Oh,” you whisper.

Ginny’s expression softens. “Yeah,” she says. “Oh.”

You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat.

Ginny nudges your shoulder gently. “You should write to him.”

You hesitate.

“Apologize,” she says. “Talk to him.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think I will.”

Ginny smiles, standing up and stretching. “Good.” Then, with a teasing glint in her eyes, she adds, “And whoever this boy is, if he starts treating you badly, let me know, and I’ll handle it.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of you. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks. “Damn right.”

And then, with one last knowing look, she leaves you alone with your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, then pull out parchment and ink.

You hesitate only for a moment before pressing the quill to the page.

My Knight,

I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was stressed, and I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.

You are not a burden. Not even close. If anything, you’re the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve missed you, more than I can put into words. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I needed to say this.

Please write back.

Love,

Your Supernova 

You stare at the letter for a long moment before folding it carefully.

Then, heart pounding, you seal it and set it aside to send in the morning.

You wake up with the same knot of anxiety in your stomach, the one that’s been twisting ever since you sent Draco the letter yesterday. Your thoughts race, each one a worst-case scenario. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he’s angry with you? What if he never wants to speak to you again? The questions swirl like a storm in your head, and despite the bright December morning outside, the world feels impossibly heavy. You try to push them away, but they cling to you, relentless.

It’s already noon when you hear the soft knock on your door. You’re not expecting anyone, but you know immediately what it is. Your heart leaps in your chest. Ginny’s standing there, holding a letter, and the panic hits you again like a wave.

"Here you go," she says, her tone light, but the knowing look in her eyes makes it clear that she senses your unease. She offers you the letter with a small smile, not hiding the fact that she knows how much this means to you.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the letter. "Ginny," you murmur, voice barely a whisper, "I can’t."

She watches you with a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You’re freaking out over a letter? Relax, sis."

"I—" You try to steady your breath, but your hands are trembling too much to be still. You want to tell her that it’s more than just a letter—that this could change everything. But the words don’t come. "What if—"

She cuts you off, her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Look, if it’ll help, I can read it for you."

Your eyes widen at the idea. "No!" You grab the letter from her hand, clutching it to your chest. "I want to read it myself."

Ginny laughs softly, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Take your time.” She watches you with a mix of amusement and something more—concern, maybe. Her gaze lingers, but she doesn’t push, letting you have your moment.

With a deep breath, you rip open the envelope. The sound of it seems too loud in the quiet room. Your heart beats in your throat as you pull the letter out. The parchment is thick, the edges slightly curled from the fold. The familiar scent of ink and parchment fills your senses, but it's the feeling in your chest that’s the hardest to bear. The anxiety. The dread. The hope.

You unfold the letter, feeling the smooth paper against your fingertips, and begin to read:

Dear Supernova,

I’m sorry for not replying sooner. I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and I’ve realized that I shouldn’t have been so distant. You didn’t deserve that.

I don’t know where things are headed between us, but I want to see where it goes. I’ll do better, I promise. You’re worth more than the way I acted.

I’ve missed you.

Love,

Your Knight.

Your heart softens as you read his words, the relief flooding in with each line. It’s not as bad as you feared. In fact, it’s better than you’d hoped. The knot in your stomach begins to loosen, and you let out a shaky breath. For a brief moment, everything feels right again. He’s trying.

But then, something else catches your eye. A small, dried flower slips from the letter. You pick it up carefully, fingers brushing the lavender petals. It’s vibrant even in its pressed state, a perfect wild lavender, curled and fragrant, its purple hue still bright. The meaning of lavender strikes you instantly—devotion.

You smile softly at the gesture. It’s personal, thoughtful. Something Draco would do, if he was truly trying.

Your attention shifts again as something else falls from the letter—a piece of jewelry. You gasp softly, and Ginny leans forward as she notices it too.

You pick up the necklace gently, your fingers skimming the cool silver chain. It’s delicate yet sturdy, not too heavy but unmistakably expensive. The pendant is a small, intricate locket, polished to perfection, gleaming in the soft light of your room. You turn it over in your hands, admiring the fine craftsmanship.

It’s engraved with delicate swirls, floral patterns wrapping around the edges. When you open it, you find two tiny spaces, perfect for small photos. Your heart tightens as you wonder—did Draco have this made just for you? Or had he kept it all this time, waiting for the right moment to give it away?

A folded note slips from the locket, and you unfold it with trembling fingers.

Merry Christmas.

It’s Draco’s handwriting, neat and precise, though a little more formal than you’d expect for a casual holiday message. You smile at the simplicity of it, the warmth of the words, and yet, something unsettles you. Was he truly thinking of you when he wrote it, or was he just trying to smooth things over?

Ginny doesn’t give you much time to ponder. She snatches the necklace from your hand and inspects it, eyes wide in awe. “Ooooh, wow. This is gorgeous.” Her fingers glide over the pendant. “And… really expensive.”

You laugh nervously, your voice barely a whisper. “I—he didn’t have to—”

She holds it up to the light, her eyes glittering. "I don’t care what he had to do. This is way beyond what I’d expect from a… guy like him." She glances at you, raising an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the expensive gift.

You smile softly but it’s bittersweet. You’re not used to receiving gifts like this—not from anyone, especially not from someone like Draco. You glance back down at the letter, reading his words again, feeling the weight of them. I’ll do better, I promise. You trace the edges of the necklace absently, your chest tightening again.

Ginny stands there for a moment, watching you quietly. The room falls silent as you let the words sink in. But Ginny isn’t done yet.

She sets the necklace down carefully and gives you a sharp, knowing look. “So, is everything okay between you two?”

You freeze, unsure how to respond. The truth feels complicated, tangled in knots you don’t know how to untangle. “Yes... and no. For now, everything’s fine. But I still need to talk to him. I just need some time to figure it out.”

Ginny nods slowly, studying your face. “Alright. Just don’t let it go too long, okay? You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

You nod in return, grateful for her support. “I know.”

She stands, moving toward the door, then turns with a half-smile on her face. “Well, let me know if you need anything. And…” She glances back at you, a playful glint in her eye. “If he starts treating you badly, I swear I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Ginny smirks, then exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You sit there, the letter in your hands, the necklace resting beside you. You should feel lighter now, but something doesn’t sit right. You can’t place it, but there’s a tension in the air you can’t shake.

You try to dismiss it as nerves. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything that’s happened, or the confusion you still feel. But it lingers, like a shadow in the back of your mind.

Things slowly start to unravel the second you step foot onto Hogwarts grounds.

Christmas break had been a nightmare. All you wanted to do was apologize to Draco properly, not some half-hearted apologies in letters.

And now, as you sit in your secret meeting place, tucked away behind the old tapestry on the seventh floor, you can’t stop fidgeting. The silver locket rests in your palm, cool against your skin, the chain sliding between your fingers as you move it back and forth. It’s become a nervous habit over the last few days—something to ground you as you run through every possible way to say I’m sorry without completely breaking down.

What if he doesn’t forgive you? What if you’ve messed things up beyond repair?

The thought makes your stomach churn. You clench your jaw, trying to steady yourself. You just need to see him, to explain everything, to tell him—

The sound of footsteps approaching makes you freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, and you barely have time to compose yourself before the curtain of the tapestry shifts and Draco steps through.

The second you see him, you don’t think. You just move.

You surge forward, throwing your arms around him, clutching him tightly like he might slip through your fingers if you don’t hold on. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then his arms come around you, strong and sure, pulling you against him. The familiar scent of him—clean parchment, expensive cologne, and something unmistakably him—fills your senses, and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

You feel him shift slightly, and before you can say anything else, his hands cup your face, tilting it up toward him. You barely have time to register the soft look in his silver eyes before he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed, not desperate—just firm and reassuring, as if he’s telling you it’s okay without needing words. The tension inside you unravels, and you melt into him, hands clutching the fabric of his robes as you kiss him back.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head slightly. “I do,” you insist. “I should’ve never made you feel like—like you weren’t important. You are. So much.”

Draco exhales slowly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You drive me insane sometimes, you know that?” His voice is soft, teasing, but there’s no real bite to it.

You huff out a weak laugh, sniffling. “Yeah, I know.”

His arms wrap around you again, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in this moment, the weight of the last few weeks fading as you press your face into his shoulder.

He’s here. He’s yours. And this time, you won’t let your fear push him away.

The next couple of days have really taken a toll on you. You’ve barely had time to see Draco due to all the late-night studying you’ve been doing.

Today had been a particularly tough day. And in a desperate need to see Draco, you completely forgot to keep an eye out for anyone who might follow you.

You weren’t thinking straight. How could you? All you needed was to see him, and maybe, because of that need, you let your guard down.

And now, you are suffering the consequences.

You’re pressed against Draco’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you as you shake in his hold. His hand moves in soothing circles along your back, and you clutch onto his robes like a lifeline, your body wracked with silent sobs.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice warm and steady. “Everything is going to be okay.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, buried in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as he whispers quiet reassurances against your skin.

“It’s alright, love,” he says, voice softer now, full of something you can’t quite name. “I promise, it’s alright.”

Eventually, your tears slow, your breathing evens out, and the weight pressing against your chest lightens just enough for you to finally lift your head. Draco tilts your chin up gently, his silver eyes scanning your face as if making sure you’re truly alright.

And then, he kisses you.

It starts slow—his lips brushing against yours like a question, as if making sure you want this. And Merlin, do you want this.

You kiss him back instantly, pushing yourself closer to him, your fingers threading into his hair. The tension of the past few days melts away as he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to your waist, the other resting against the back of your neck. It’s intoxicating—the way he kisses you like you’re something precious, something to be cherished.

You’re so lost in the warmth of him, in the way he holds you, that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching.

You don’t even register the presence behind you until—

Someone coughs.

You and Draco break apart so fast it’s almost comical, your head snapping toward the sound.

And there, standing just a few feet away, is Ginny.

All the blood drains from your face.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at you, her expression unreadable, which somehow makes it worse.

Your heart pounds against your ribs. Ginny isn’t stupid. She’s piecing everything together in real time—the secret meetings, the necklace, your constant evasion when she asked who you were seeing. And now, catching you like this, wrapped up in Draco Malfoy like he’s the air you breathe—

You try to swallow the panic creeping up your throat.

“Ginny—”

But she’s already turning on her heel.

Your heart lurches. No, no, no.

“Ginny, wait!” You break away from Draco and hurry after her.

She stops, but only just, turning around sharply. “What?” she snaps, her voice cutting.

You flinch, but you force yourself to meet her eyes. Draco is right behind you, tense but silent.

“I—I’m sorry,” you start, voice uneven. “I should’ve told you sooner. There was a reason I didn’t—”

Something shifts in Ginny’s face, like a realization hitting her all at once.

“I’m not mad at you,” she says suddenly, though her voice is still tight. “Well, I am, but I’m more mad that you didn’t think you could trust me with this.” She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “I get why you didn’t say anything, because, yeah, it’s Malfoy—” her gaze flickers to Draco before settling back on you “—but you’re happy. I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

Your breath catches.

Ginny sighs, her voice softer now. “I see the way you act, like you’re my shadow. And, frankly, you’re treated like one. It’s not fair.” Her eyes search yours. “You deserve to have something that’s just yours. And if that’s him—” she jerks her chin toward Draco, “—then fine. But you should’ve told me.”

You blink at her, unable to speak. She’s not furious about who you’re dating—just that you hadn’t told her. The relief that floods you is almost overwhelming.

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Ginny studies you for a moment longer before she finally sighs. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, shaking her head. Then, she turns to Draco, her gaze sharp as a dagger.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Draco actually chuckles—until he sees the look on Ginny’s face. He swallows, nodding. “Understood.”

Ginny hums, clearly satisfied. “I’ll see you back in the common room,” she says, glancing at you one last time before walking away.

Silence lingers in the air for a beat. Then, warm hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a familiar embrace.

You turn in Draco’s arms, looping your own around his neck.

“Well,” he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That wasn’t so bad.”

You huff out a laugh. “I guess not.”

His smirk deepens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Now we should tell Weasley about us.”

Your stomach drops. You swat his shoulder instantly. “Absolutely not.”

Draco chuckles, leaning in. “Fine, fine,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We’ll save that heart attack for another day.”

[cowboy-robooty]

This is the 5th time im trying to post this damn masterlist. fuck my baka life. It straight up deleted your ask last time my apologies.

i didnt respond for 10 days because it made me so happy to get an ask like this that my little heart ceased to beat so i flopped over and died grandpa on the lazy-boy with a bucket of chicken on his lap style. im ok now tho dont worry. anyways, heres a current compilation of my exceptional itager doujin comics and such (not singular fanarts), although this list hasn't updated in forever since... idk... people don't really scanlate itager comics from pixiv much anymore (>3<) at least not on tumblr since the R-18 ban! I'll put this all under the cut since it'll be a bit long

FULL DOUJINSHI:

Hiraite Musunde Ishuukan! - R (corolla)

This is the best itager doujinshi ever. Hands down. I've never read anything that has topped this it is literally perfect. It's created by overlord R who's only critical fault is that she ships gerita.. but ngl i think she was just born in the wrong time. You'll see a lot more work by her here and i genuinely think that if she was born in an era that didn't push for uke italy she would've been an itager warrior. shes like how a lot of people who aren't racist in this day and age (thank god) would've TOTALLY been super racist 50 years ago (you know what i mean? sometimes you just can tell when you know somebody). Poor R was born in the wrong generation.

Her other doujins are also excellent (found below)

Lettera d’amore - R (corolla)

Very close second to her best one

Gattiino Nante Iwasenai - R (corolla)

This one is also great but I'd say it's only a tinyyy bit more behind the other two because of the knowledge she is a Gerita believer (it spoils the taste of some bits when you think about it). If you ignore her beliefs though this is a just as high quality of Itager doujin as the other two

Temperatur - PB (Neri)

What's this?! A doujin that's improperly sorted on [MANGA SCANLATION SITE] under gerita?! This is Itager LOL you can literally see it on the title and on Otaku Republic its labled as itager as well. Although it has fully proper intentions behind it, it's still not nearly as good as R's above doujinshis or my favorite Itager fanartist (who will come up later in the pixiv comic section). This isn't because it's itager of course (im going to fucking kill you if you go "durhhh its worse because its itager since gerita is supreme") NO. It's because this author isn't willing to keep "it" in their pants! This is a shounen ai but there's still too much eroticism for the sake of sexiness rather than humor which takes away from the critical broship aspect of itager! I have nothing against ero (if you know me im SUPER pro-ero) but yaoi is a science! Erotic scenes are like chilli crisp in a doujinshi... YOU MUST USE THEM PROPERLY OR ELSE IT'LL RUIN THE YAOI INSTEAD OF ENHANCING IT! Also there is pruaus jumpscare which ranks it down for me too.

HONORABLE MENTION

I have two Itager doujinshis I bought off Otaku Republic that have never been scanlated before. They are the last of their kind on the website, so I'm too afraid to tear them open for scanlation. I also don't know how to translate Japanese and it probably would be a nightmare to contact the original authors of these doujins since they're so old... but the art looks so good... especially for strawberry sex. I will make a point to put an effort in this over the summer (if I cannot get permission, then I will translate it for myself and you will need to personally contact me to see the translation, out of respect for the original author).

TRANSLATED PIXIV COMICS:

Before we begin, everybody, please say thank you to yumekotan. I have no clue where you have gone and I think you probably shipped gerita (another case of being born in the wrong generation perhaps), but you have done an incredible service for our world with your scanlations. I will be providing links to yumekotan's tumblr post scanlations for your easy enjoyment and grouping the links by author.

モツ (MY FAVORITE):

this motherfucker is my goat. my on god goat. i think they hate hetalia now or are just average japanese embarassed of their past bc they deleted all their hetalia work and i would literally do anything to put them in a time machine and make them go back to when they liked this shit so i could commission them to make a whole doujinshi with my entire year of part time job pay. Perhaps I'm wrong, since this is all we have left of motsu's legacy in the itager wars, but this is SO freaking itager i think my eyes would start rolling to the back of my skull if i found out they're another gerita victim of the era. because almost everybody else on this motherfucking post is a victim to being born in the wrong generation, but they do have comics and fanarts that show symptoms of their gerita truth aids (and the comic gets really weird or bad suddenly when it kicks in like you can pinpoint it). Motsu has never faltered. And whats even more impressive is that this is absolutely canon. The best itager doujinshi by R is incredible and perfect because it's exactly canon, but I think that motsu takes it a step further by being able to create mundane comics that still have the same level of canon atmosphere. I'll admit that R's best Itager doujin relies on sticking close to things himaruya has already written to keep it standing strong. Motsu doesnt give a single fuck. bro said no pads no helmet no condom we whip out dick out in the wind raw and see who gets pregnent. and it turned out himaruya did because these comics are absolutely perfect they are a true extension of the real webcomic itager which i think i have a SUPER SUPER long way to go until i can get there. (at this point I kind of embrace that my itager is colored in the way my way of writing and humor is, but that is because i draw itager for fun too much these days due to heavy school and work. my career is studying classical #true webcomic himaruya style itager which requires actual skill).

R (corolla):

These above three are very good quality R pixiv comics (going from best (top) to great (bottom))

^ Good tier comic. nothing excellent but nothing bad in its flavor

The below four are itager comics I would consider OK, but they have some form of gerita AIDS that causes it to be a bit unpleasant to eat (to varying degrees, going from OK (top) to what is this gay shit <- derogetory (bottom)). R was born in the wrong generation... and it really starts showing how the environment influenced them to add some really bad components to their version of the ship

^[This comic seems to have problems, so click this LINK to see it]

To clarify, none of these are absolutely terrible awful "killed my grandma" kind of things. All of these comics compared to the average gerita comic are WONDERFUL. But if we are looking at it alone without the context of the gerita invasion our world is suffering from, these OK-bad tier comics do have key components wrong with them. If anyone is interested I suppose I can make another post annotating what is wrong with these comics, but I feel like that is unnecessary and a bit cruel considering R doesn't seem interested in the ship anymore. Sometimes people live and die in the wrong era, and you must acknowledge their faults, but still be understanding of the situation they were in.

Hakoniwa:

^[This comic also seems to have problems, so click this LINK to see it]

If you've read all the English translated doujins for this ship floating around online, you probably recognize this author and are surprised this is here! Yes, they have a billion jillion gerita doujins and i hate all of them LOL. But this one pixiv comic is the one time they got something right. Hakoniwa seems to have this problem that (aside from gerita... although I think this is a symptom of having gerita aids) they make this ship way too emotional in an angsty sadness manner! I understand that their focus is that they prefer exploring the emotional depth of ships rather than making humorous situations, but they're doing it all wrong! (this isn't even to mention how I think that humor and emotional depth are things that can exist side by side; even complimenting each other if executed properly....) I feel like people get the idea with ships that sadness/angst = depth, which is untrue. emotional components that twist your heart around and bring you to tears can come from sad AND happy things, it just seems to be that it's much harder to execute with happiness. People think angst and fluff are opposite things when really, they're two sides of the same coin, with both of them being done terribly most often LOL. I don't consider myself someone who likes fluff or angst at all actually, because it seems that when people describe something as either of those things, neither of them provoke the feeling im supposed to have. I think that with itager, it has lots of depth in its emotional components, but these components are made of things that make you feel so heartwarmed that you could cry. This comic does not reach that level, but it is for once an emotional comic that Hakoniwa gets RIGHT. This is canon compliant. This is something that would happen. This is ITAGER!

FANFICTION:

There is no good itager fanfiction. There is very few mid ones. maybe one or two OK/almost good ones. but no solid good ones. and this is coming from a guy who spent the last 6 years scouring ao3 and fanfiction dot net. In my opinion, hetalia fandom has this wretched curse that it will uniquely be the only fandom with so much fanfiction with none of it being good. Good hetalia fanfiction does not exist for Itager and Romapru. For other ships maybe, but at least for the two I'm into hell No. Everytime I come back to ao3 it just leaves me upset and unsatisfied like that stripper that i KNOW doesn't actually love me and just wants my money, but I keep coming back hoping shell change her mind. NEWS FLASH! SHE WONT!! SHE JUST NEEDS TO PAY HER BILLS THIS MONTH!

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Hidekaz Himaruya:

Webcomic Kitayume era. Basically anything before the World Stars serialization. I often reread this era whenever I'm feeling like I want to consume some itager

Hetalia (anime - Studio Deen):

Seasons 1-4 (APH to World Series... in other words before the artstyle changed.) + bits and pieces of beautiful world are good (but some are BAD... LOOKS AT THAT ONE SCENE THEY ADDED THAT I FUCKING HATE).

Bloody Moimoi:

I'm not a bloody moimoi expert, but of course I've read their doujins how could i not. They have pieces of real goodness in them, but basically all of their work is R-18, so of course the gerita aids is too much for my palate to handle. I'll take a closer examination at them if somebody asks me to, but for now I'd say if you haven't read their work yet you should, since during their non R-18 scenes I remember theres some good parts, but the R-18 totally kills my boner *cries*

IN CONCLUSION:

I hope this was helpful!! I'm SO HAPPY I GOT THIS ASK WWWWW IM SOOOO HAPPY EEEEK EEEK EEEEEEK SQUEE IM SO HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT ITAGER THANK YOU GUYS. I LOVE ITAGER I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT I LOVE IT I LOVEEEE IT AUGHAKSDJF *BLEEDS FROM EYES*. This isn't itager connected at all, but you should read Killer Crush (manhwa) if you like Itager. To me Killer Crush is as close as an independent completely unrelated manhwa can get to being an Itager AU. Seriously. To me it's an itager au ngl and in the ranks of my absolute favorite comics. 10/10 read it. it's a nicotine patch.

[rubytuby]

surprise

patrick zweig x fem!reader 

word count: 3.3k (LOL)

warnings: established relationship with patrick because i'm lazy, art is your best friend, mentions of getting drunk but it's college so like to be expected… also allusions to sex haha but um i just love to write a cutesy plot.

note: i am normal about patrick zweig, i feel so normal about him #needthat. jokes, but i am in love with him its so bad, i wish he was real. also please don't be offended by my tashi erasure, still love her, but she didn't exactly fit in here. obv this is not canon bc you're dating patrick in stanford era instead of tashi, anyways, hope you enjoy <3.

FEBRUARY 23 2007, STANFORD

The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the tennis courts as you and Art wrapped up your practice session. Both of you were drenched in sweat, Art slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.

“So uh, want to walk back to the dorms together?” he asked, sounding overly eager.

You squinted at him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Sure, but I need to shower first. You know, make it seem like I haven’t been pushed to my physical limits,” you said, gesturing to your sweaty attire.

Art laughed. “You have a single, why don't you just wait until you get back to your dorm?”

You groaned, shoving your racket into your bag. “That's the problem. The maintenance guy showed up at 7:30 this morning to tell us they’re shutting off the water from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. only on my floor for some urgent plumbing issue.”

“Damn, that sucks. Are they even allowed to do that without giving anyone notice?”

“That's what I asked, but apparently, giving us 30 minutes notice is considered adequate. So, technically, they can,” you replied, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be quick, though. Just need to rinse off. If you don’t wanna wait for me to chill, you can walk back to the dorms. I won’t be offended.”

Art shook his head. “I’ve got time, I’ll wait. I’ve gotta call someone anyways,” he said plopping down the bench and pulling out his phone.

“Alright weirdo, if you’re sure,” you said, dropping your tote bag next to him. “I’ll be super quick.” With that, you darted off to the girls' locker room.

As soon as you disappeared, Art pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number. The phone barely rang before Patrick answered, his voice tense with impatience.

“Are you guys on the fucking way yet or am I going to have to wait longer?”

“Hello, sunshine!” Art greeted cheerily. “Your beloved is taking a quick shower. We’ll be there in about 25 to 30 minutes.”

Patrick groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you just tell her to shower in her dorm? I’ll lick the sweat off her if it means not waiting any longer.”

Art grimaced at his best friend’s comment. “The water’s out on her floor. She said she’s literally only rinsing off and changing. Just be patient. I’ll text you when to leave so we can time it perfectly.” A sigh rang out on the other line.

“If this plan doesn’t work and I’ve been hiding from my girlfriend for a couple hours for no reason, I’m going to seriously hurt you,” Patrick grumbled, staring out Art’s dorm window.

“Well she definitely thinks you're in New York visiting your parents,” Art paused, “I just had to talk her down from buying a plane ticket, so I think we’re good.”

“I told her I just got into the city a couple hours ago when I actually got to SFO. She was so upset yesterday when I said it’d be five days until we saw each other. She called me a fucking asshole, so I dont know what to do anymore.” Patrick said as he flopped onto Arts bed.

Art scribbled on his worksheet, humming in response. “Well, at least you know that she definitely misses you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she misses me or just wants to slap me in the face,” Patrick replied, exasperated.

Just then, Art saw you coming out of the locker room, chatting with one of your friends on the team. “Hopefully not the latter. Anyway she’s out. See you at 15. Don’t be late,” Art said flatly before hanging up, knowing Patrick and his unfortunate untimeliness. 

Art smiled up at you as you approached. “Who was that?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Our shared lover,” Art replied with a laugh, haphazardly shoving his worksheet and phone into his bag as he stood up.

“Aww, any exciting updates from Pat? He still stuck with his parents for another five days?” you teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

“He just got to the city. He mentioned playing on the East River courts and paying someone to hold a spot for him,” Art lied smoothly.

“Sounds about right,” you said, sighing. “Anyway, I was talking to Nathalie over there…” you squinted, linking arms with Art as the two of you started the walk back to your dorm. “She mentioned a frat party happening tonight. Since Patrick’s trapped in New York, I figured why not go?”

“There’s going to be a keg stand, a ton of alcohol, and some shitty DJ or something,” you added, glancing at a group of students touring the campus before turning back to Art.

Art nodded, slightly wincing at the mention of the keg stand. “Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” he replied sarcastically, earning a nod of agreement from you.

“I was planning on skipping it, but Nathalie really wants me to go. I thought if you came with me, it might actually be fun. Better than wallowing in my room wishing Patrick was here,” you admitted, biting your lip.

"Well, we had fun at that party last Friday, you remember right?" Art asked, smirking.

"Remember is a strong word," you replied, shaking your head with a laugh. "I think I have bits and pieces from that night. I do remember waking up still drunk at noon with my t-shirt on backwards and you snoring next to me in bed. Also like 5 missed calls from Patrick."

Art flashed you a lopsided grin. "Well, your bed's comfy, but I thought I was going to roll off in the middle of the night."

"Well, I stayed in my corner, I was flush against the wall as you were all sprawled out making yourself at home on my bed," you teased, nudging him playfully.

As you approached your dorm building, you noticed Art’s phone buzz. He glanced at it quickly, fumbling to put it away as a smile grew on his face. “What’s with the grin, weirdo?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. Just a funny text,” Art replied too quickly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Who, me? Who said I’m lying, I’m the picture of innocence,” Art said defensively.

You shook your head. “Sure you are. Anyway, I think I’m gonna drop my stuff on the floor, crawl into bed, and maybe take a nap. Maybe we can think about that party, I can call you at 11 so we can pregame.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You smiled gratefully as the two of you ascended the stairs to your floor. Art talked animatedly about his plans for the weekend while you half-listened, preoccupied with thoughts of collapsing onto your bed and taking a deserved long nap.

"Yeah anyways, I'm thinking of catching up on some studying, this english class is kicking my ass," Art continued, unaware of your drifting attention. "Maybe I’ll go on a run later though. You could join me if you wanted, if you’re up."

"Maybe," you replied absentmindedly, reaching a hand into your tote bag sifting for your keys.

As you reached your door, frustrated with your bag, you dropped your tennis bag and lifted your whole tote up, practically sticking your face in it to find your keys. "I hate these fucking tote bags, I can’t find shit," you grumbled to Art, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you turned around with a scowl— until you saw Patrick standing there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Patrick! What the fuck? What are you doing here-” you exclaimed, letting your tote bag fall to the floor and throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Patrick laughed, hugging you back just as tightly. "Surprise" he exclaimed, holding you close, smiling at Art over your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "You asshole! Trapped in New York with my parents, my ass!" you shook your head, playfully hitting him on the chest.

Patrick held his chest dramatically and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "All part of the plan," he murmured. “Plus, I had a little help," he added, nodding towards Art, who was standing nearby with a smug expression.

You turned in Patrick's arms to face Art, scoffing in shock. "Art, you were in on this? You’re such a liar," you exclaimed.

Art shrugged. "Hey, I was just hosting him at my dorm while we were at practice. Technically, I didn’t lie—I just omitted a few details," he explained, grinning.

"How could you do this to me? Traitor!" you said dramatically, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against him and resting his head on your shoulder. "Come on. You know it was worth it," he said, his tone teasing.

You sighed playfully, shaking your head at the pair of them. "I guess I can forgive you both this time," you conceded.

Patrick’s hand gently brushed through your hair as he settled his head into the curve of your neck. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me,” he said softly.

As you lingered in Patrick's embrace, you paused. "Wait, where's all your stuff?" you asked, pulling back slightly and turning to look up at him.

Patrick grinned, nodding towards your door. "In your dorm," he replied casually.

“Wow, Breaking and entering," you quipped, crossing your arms squinting at Art.

Art interjected with a laugh, "Actually, perfectly legal entering. You're the one who gave me a spare key."

You shook your head, "That's for emergencies, Art," you retorted, shooting him a mock glare.

Patrick turned you around to face him, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed," he teased.

You sighed, "I'm shocked you guys were able to pull this off, honestly," you admitted, shaking your head with amusement. Patrick laughed softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

Reluctantly pulling away from Patrick's arms, you grabbed your tote bag from the floor, turning to face Art and Patrick. "As much as this hallway talk is very exciting, I seriously need to find my keys. I'm exhausted," you declared half-joking.

After a brief search through your bag, you finally located your keys nestled among your belongings. Patrick picked up your tennis bag with a playful grin, indicating his readiness to follow you inside.

"Alright, Art, thank you," Patrick called out over his shoulder as you unlocked the door.

Art waved casually. "Have fun, be safe you two. I'll see you later," he replied as he walked down the hallway.

As the two of you entered your dorm room, you barely had enough time to place your bags on the floor before Patrick closed the gap between you and him and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands pulled you against him as he pressed your back against the door, placing his hands on either side of you almost boxing you in. His kisses were sloppy, teeth colliding as his lips moved against yours, hands desperately roaming your body, as if he couldn't get close enough to you.

You responded eagerly, melting into his embrace, your own hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip, hands roaming over your back, then up to cradle your face, pushing strands of hair away as he deepened the kiss.

"Patrick," you managed to gasp between kisses, your chest rising and falling with each breath. "I... I need to put my stuff away," you painted, reluctantly pulling back

Patrick leaned back, a mischievous smirk on his face, moving over to lean against your desk. "Sure," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you took out some things from your bag. "So, how was practice?" he asked, his voice low, as he looked you up and down.

You scoffed, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as you organized. "Heinous. I keep getting paired with this girl on the team who can't return any of my serves," you replied exasperatedly, glancing over at him.

Patrick raised an eyebrow, "maybe you should just go easy on her."

You shook your head, clicking your tongue in frustration. "I've tried to go easy on her, but she can't even play me when I do that. She acts like it's my fault she can't play for shit," you paused to sigh.

Patrick grinned, tracing a hand up and down your arm. "We both know you're too good for stanford women's tennis," he murmured, moving from the desk to stand behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and giving them a quick squeeze.

You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his comment. "Careful," you say firmly.

Patrick put his hands up in mock surrender, his cocky grin never faltering. "Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad," he said. "You're right."

As an unspoken apology, Patrick moved closer, his hands gently moving up to your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck softly. His lips left a warm trail on your skin, "I missed you," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “So much.”

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access, closing your eyes briefly to savor the sensation. "I missed you too," you hummed, your voice softening as you turned to face him fully. Your hands came to rest on his chest. "You know, I wish you would’ve just told me you were coming," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.

Patrick's playful demeanor softened as he gazed into your eyes, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Sorry again," he murmured sincerely, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you still love me?" he asked, clearly teasing and testing you.

You couldn't help but smile, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I still love you, even with your elaborate lies," you replied, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "But I have to say I knew something was up. Art was being weirder than normal."

Patrick hummed, his hands gently caressing your sides as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Hey? Are you even listening to me?" you asked, blinking up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Patrick paused, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes. "Sorry, what did you say? I was a little distracted," he said, smiling.

You laughed softly, giving him a light shove. “I said Art was acting weirder than normal. I could tell he was hiding something.”

He shook his head and grinned, suddenly, he scooped you up over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised laugh from you as he carried you to the bed. Playfully flopping you down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.

"So, what's our plan for tonight?" he asked between kisses, his fingers tracing light patterns on your sides.

You sighed softly, your words catching in your throat as his kisses became more fervent. "Well, there's this party my friend invited me to," you managed to say, struggling to speak coherently. "But last time I went out with Art, it was a shit show," you paused, trying to focus as his lips trailed down your collarbone, "but you're here, so we can do… whatever you want," you finally managed to say, your voice breathless with desire.

"Can we?" Patrick teased, his tone dripping with innuendo, his kisses becoming more urgent and needy.

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. "You know, you're impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "But yes, we can."

Patrick grinned triumphantly, his hands roaming over your body as he leaned in to kiss you again, his hunger for you evident in every touch and movement. "Good," he murmured against your lips. "I think I just want you to be myself tonight."

"Freaky," you quipped, biting your tongue to hide a laugh.

With a self-assured grin, Patrick swiftly removed his T-shirt, revealing his lean and tan body. His gaze never left yours as he leaned back in, his lips finding yours with intensity. Your fingers traced lightly over his chest as you meshed together, and through kisses, you opened your eyes for a moment, gaze fixed on the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

"You've got more freckles," you observed with a playful smile, pulling back slightly, teasingly tracing each tiny mark with your fingertip.

Patrick grinned warmly, his eyes crinkling as he removed his lips from yours pulling you into a tight hug. "You're so cute," he murmured, squeezing you against him. His hands gently moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you closer, lips looking for another kiss with a soft sigh of contentment slipping out. His gaze, filled with adoration and longing, locked onto yours, silently expressing his deep affection.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe. You locked eyes with him, your own expression softening as you smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

Without breaking eye contact, Patrick's hands moved to the hem of your T-shirt, his touch almost insistent. He lifted the fabric, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze, with the T-shirt slipped over your head and thrown to the floor, forgotten. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of you, bare-chested in front of him, a cheeky grin began to spread across his face. 

You rolled your eyes, whacking his arm. "Are you 13?" you teased.

Patrick laughed, unfazed as his hands and mouth roamed your newly exposed skin, his lips moving back to your collarbone, placing soft kisses along its length. Your remaining clothes were shed in a flurry, falling to the floor as you both moved with urgency desperately reconnecting.

Finally, as your kisses slowed and the two of you were breathing somewhat heavily, you rolled onto him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

"I love you," Patrick murmured softly, placing a lovingly sweet kiss onto your forehead.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. "Is that just because we had incredible reunion sex?" you teased lightly, a playful challenge in your voice. "Or do you love me all the time?"

Patrick laughed, his fingers moving up and down on your back. "Only for the sex, it's usually worth the plane ticket," he teased back, with a smile. "Just kidding. I love you all the time," he replied earnestly, as a grin started forming on his face.

Leaning up from his chest, you pressed a sloppy kiss against his mouth, your hands tangling into his hair as you felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile against yours. "I knew it," you murmured against his lips, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Say it back," Patrick urged with a playful grin, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you playfully pulled away before he could capture your lips again.

Rolling your eyes theatrically, you feigned annoyance, though your smile betrayed your true feelings. "Fine," you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I love you too, freak."

[kolesodd]

could you do a fluff/smutty fic with james hetfield where he takes the readers v card pls <33 preferably an established relationship and set in the early 90s but you take the reigns !!

I hope you like this anon! I thought this au was so cute! <3

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Setting: early 90s ; black album era

Warnings: piv, slight choking, mentions of alcohol and drinking. drugs involved (just cigarettes), unprotected. (wrap up)

Summary: Metallica was just about done with their world tour. Their last stops being in the states, selling out arenas and some stadiums they had booked. They were currently on break until it was time to tour North and South America. You guys were at a celebration party, celebrating a successful abroad tour. Though, James wanna celebrate in a different way, of course you couldn't say no to that.

"CHEERS TO A SUCCESSFUL AND SAFE...BLACK ALBUM TOUR. I WANNA THANK EVERYONE ON OUR TEAM FOR MAKING ANOTHER TOUR HAPPEN!" Lars said as he shot his red cup in the air that was filled with some type of alcohol.

Everyone said their cheers and cheered before taking a sip of their drink. "Another tour..another successful album to be quite frank." James raised his brow. You chuckled at his comment. You both were sitting on the couch playing a game of cards with Kirk and his girlfriend. The two couple across from you and nodded. "Dare I say we deserve something for it." Kirk said.

The band wasn't too focused on getting trophies but they highly appreciated the recognition they rightly deserved. You supported James and been with him since Kill em All. You really watched the band grow and become experienced with their sound and instruments. The fact you were able to witness everything in real time just gave you goosebumps.

Not only that, you couldn't stop thinking about how you two were about to celebrate 10 years of being together. 'A decade already?' You thought. Time was sure going fast and as the saying goes, 'Time goes by fast when you're having fun.' Rightfully so. You sure as hell was having the best time while dating James. There was never a dull moment in the 10 years you've been with him. You guys aren't perfect but you both matched each other perfectly.

It was getting late so you guys decided to head on home. You entered your shared apartment and you two were quick to just flop on your soft bed after being out all day. You two were exhausted and just needed some rest for a moment. A moment to relax for a bit.

"Home! god i miss this bed!" James said as his face was muffled in the pillow. He let out a guttural sigh that couldn't help but make you laugh. He turned his head to look at you with a smile.

"What?" You said curiously.

"Nothing...I just, you know..wanna celebrate my tour in a different way~ a quick blow? pleasee?" He asked politely. He knew that you were still a virgin but of course, you two managed to please each other when it came down to any of you being horny, so you wasn't entirely inexperienced.

"Don't you want more?"

"More?"

"Yeah?"

James looked at you confused as he sat up. "More what? I don't want nothing else.."

"Oh so you don't wanna take my virginity then?"

You can see when his heart skipped a beat and had butterflies in his stomach. "Wait- I-"

You just nodded as James obviously didn't have no words to say.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He slowly moved closer towards you. "Mmhm..I'm sure. 100%. I love you so so much and I'm ready." After your words, he kissed your cheek then moved towards your lips pecking them. "I will go easy on you baby. Just let me know when it hurts or you want me to slow down- or even stop ok?" He whispered in between each peck. Eventually, you guys were in a much needed kiss.

His tongue going against yours; exploring your familiar mouth. James had you stripped down in mere seconds. He was taking his time on you and didn't wanna rush a moment like this. He kissed down your stomach and kissed the waistband of your panties. He slowly slid them off exposing your wet cunt.

He loves going down on you ever since the first time you guys did it back in 83. You could definitely tell the difference between 20 year old James with no experience and a 30 year old James, with experience and knows all your rights spots from memory.

He was now at your entrance. He first rummaged through the bed side drawers to take out an unopened box of condoms. James also had a box; just in case for moments like these when you were feeling up for it.

"No-" You said grabbing his wrist. "Don't put it on..." James was taken aback and looked at you for a moment indeed of reassurance. You nodded and he just put the box back. "Damn so i technically bought those for nothing?" He shook his head as you giggled. He was a pretty good size in length and girth. Your heart was pounding and it was way too late to back down now. He slowly pushed himself into, feeling your tight walls around him. "Fuck-" He cursed under his breath. You groaned at the slight pain and even winced a bit. The pain was sharp and uncomfortable and it had you breathing heavily.

"Calm down, breath. I don't want you to pass out." James said as he caressed his cheek. He was now fully inside of you. He kept this position for a minute until you were comfortable and ready. He began moving slowly, his thrust was manageable but it was still highly uncomfortable for you. You soon relaxed your body more and kept breathing. Eventually you got the hand of his movements and his size. The moment you felt comfortable is the moment your body wanted more. James being a gentleman that he is, he still kept going slow.

His low groans and grunts filled the room and it turned you on. "Go a little faster..." You told him in a whisper. "You sure baby doll?"

You nodded.

You didn't have to tell James twice. He increased his thrust speed to a medium. That unfamiliar uncomfortable feeling was finally long gone and out of your hair. You officially lost your virginity to the man you love and,, you didn't mind him using you like some toy.

Once you had a feel to him, James had you in all different positions. Different positions you never thought you could even do. He wasn't going soft and sweet but more rough and sloppy like he hadn't fucked in ages...technically he hasn't but he's willing to wait. You guys were both back to missionary and he moved his hand down to your throat, softly squeezing it; filling your choking kink you always had.

His eyes were dark and his voice was deep and raspy. "Gonna come now baby...fuck-" He moaned out. Your moans were the only sounds being heard throughout the room besides the harsh smacking of skin to skin contact. He was thrusting hard and deep in your cunt. "Yeah..i think- i feel it-" You whined. He subconsciously went even more faster and rougher. You thought he was gonna break the bed but you didn't care. In the heat of the moment you, just wanted to come; and you came.

He quickly pulled out, jerking himself off as he released himself onto your stomach, causing a sticky mess. "Fuck- fucck-" He huffed and took a deep breath. He looked down at you, your face was red and tired from the activity. He grabbed a few tissues and cleaned up your stomach. "Thats my girl...thats.my.girl." He said before landing two kisses on your cheeks. You smiled and watched him lay on his side of the bed catching his breath.

"You know were locked in now...like this." He said putting his crossed fingers. "Im happy to be your first, and I'm willing to be your first in anything else."

"My first husband??"

"Now don't spoil our future...but yeah...your first husband." He turned to wink at you causing your heart to skip a beat.

a/n: I hope you like this fic anon and and anyone else that read it.

dividers: cr to owners

[airbendertendou]

May I please get a scenario or hc (whatever is easier for you!) of Rindo’s s/o dying their hair to match his hair color? Like they do it while he’s at work and he has no idea until he comes home. Thank you! I hope you have a good day/night!

synopsis : reader changes their hair to match their boyfie <3 characters included : mikey, ran, draken, koko & bonten!rindou

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— MANJIRO! ♥︎ you copy his classic, half-up hairstyle ♥︎ doesn't even notice you've changed your hair ♥︎ draken says something snarky abt it like "oh, you're matching, cute." ♥︎ nd mikey goes ??? w his cheeks puffed out from a taiyaki ♥︎ but when he turns to see you ♥︎ it's like the sun shines down onto you carefully ; like angels are singing ; like he's falling in love all over again ♥︎ his head flops onto your shoulder, arms shakily bringing you closer to his hold ♥︎ mumbles something about turning you into a sano /:

— DRAKEN! ♥︎ you go for jus a simple braid, a little piece of hair tugged out ♥︎ he snorts when he sees you, rolling his eyes nd everything ♥︎ but his ears are so so red ♥︎ and hes thought abt how to tell you how pretty you look ; how you need a dragon tattoo now, too ♥︎ shoves you under his arm when you tease him abt his blush, digging his chin into the top of your head annoyingly ♥︎ tugs on that little strand a lot!! jus to get your attention, he swears ♥︎ but has this sort of pride in his eyes when you show your hair off at the toman meeting

— RAN! ♥︎ your hair is styled into two braided pigtails ♥︎ oh hes so smug ♥︎ but also keeps an eye narrowed and focused on anyone mking inappropriate comments ♥︎ we live in a society where pigtails are sexualized ♥︎ twirls your braids the way he twirls his!! ♥︎ will also purposely mess his hair up so you have to fix it for him ): ♥︎ grins at any and all matching hair accessories he see ♥︎ talk him out of getting the giant, obvious bows please

— KOKONOI! ♥︎ can b his bonten hair or his current one! ♥︎ either way, you twist or braid a few pieces of hair to mimic his style ♥︎ hates it at first ♥︎ bc how dare you make his signature style look better than he does ):< ♥︎ ends up liking it bc now he has easy access to kiss your ear nd neck ♥︎ he goes through all the other styles you'd look nice in ; all the colors you could pull off ♥︎ something about your hair matching his... ♥︎ makes you feel more official, somehow

— RINDOU! ♥︎ bonten era ; you get the jellyfish cut! or maybe copy his colors- ♥︎ he knew abt your hair appointment but didnt think it was anything out of the ordinary ♥︎ little did he know.... ♥︎ he just stares ♥︎ like wide-eyed, heartstopping, can barely breathe stares ♥︎ stands to his full height and cups your chin, turning your head gently to get a full view ♥︎ grins w pink cheeks ): kisses the tip of your nose and just continues to stare ♥︎ "all mine......" its whispered before he takes your breath in a kiss ♥︎ He's Obsessed.

——♥︎—— im so sorry for the lack of content lately ); hope this was okay / the format was alright. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♥︎

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband @chrofeisnightmaregf

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[withleeknow]

for the requests — i'll send two songs that i've liked for quite a while and you can choose the member that you see who fits the vibe?

sand by dove cameron

and

make you mine by madison beer

conversations with strangers.

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader genre/warnings: exes to ??, non-idol au (i wrote this with seungmin in mind as a celebrity/singer or musician of some sort so it's pretty vague and it's not explicitly mentioned what he actually does, so if you wanna imagine him as an idol it still fits the narrative. i can't tell you what to do lol), Angst™️! (i think. i liked this at first but then i was looking at it so much that i became desensitized to it and idk if it's that sad anymore lol); the ending is a little ambiguous maybe?, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, could've been more edited word count: 2.9k note: this might be one of my favorite things that i've written lately but i am also in my fish freshly dropped on land era so i am fully prepared for this to flop like ass lol bye

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I saw the end when we began You couldn't love the way I can I tried to bargain with the stars For more than half of your heart But you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand And I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand

Sand - Dove Cameron

"Why did you call me?"

"Why did you come?"

There isn't a good answer to his question, so you choose to ignore it in favor of keeping your eyes on the road, your fingers holding tightly onto the steering wheel. You don't know what to tell him. You yourself aren't even sure why you came to that bar, why Seungmin is sitting in your passenger seat right now just because he was drunk and he wouldn't let anyone take him home but you.

"I asked you first," you say. It takes an effort to keep your voice even, an effort not to look over at him.

"Don't know," he sounds like he couldn't care less, but that's always been Seungmin for you. "Old habits die hard, I guess. You were the only one I used to call."

You round a corner without even having to look at the GPS. The route to his place is still ingrained in your brain even after all this time. On some nights when you feel too stuffy indoors, you would go on a walk by yourself. Directionless for an hour or two, you just want to feel the wind wrap around your body and solid ground beneath your feet.

On these same nights, you would find yourself at Seungmin's door.

It's always unintentional, the way your feet would carry you to his home without your permission.

"Used to," you reiterate. "Past tense. You don't get to call me anymore. I'm not your chauffeur."

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. Then his voice, ever so calm and collected, "You came anyway, didn't you?"

His words irritate you for some reason, even though he means nothing bad. No malice in his voice; he's just simply stating a fact. You did come when he called, and perhaps the person that you're really annoyed with is only yourself, because why did you come?

He should be a stranger to you by now, and yet, you're here.

Maybe you know the answer. Maybe it's not a hard question at all.

You let the both of you wallow in silence for the rest of the drive. When you pull up to Seungmin's building about ten minutes later, you finally turn to cast your gaze upon him with your eyebrow slightly raised, a polite Get out if there ever was one.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person and going on his merry way, he just stares at you with his big eyes and his hair still styled to perfection even after a night of celebrating and drinking. Seungmin loves to be difficult, this you can't ever forget.

"Well?" you press. "You're home."

He blinks, then swallows thickly. He looks around your car for a few seconds, unsure of himself. If he wasn't intoxicated, you would think he's trying to stall.

"I... I can't go up by myself," he says.

"Are you serious?"

He just nods, something expectant in his gaze.

"You're a grown man."

"Help me up." He doesn't sound all too drunk, but maybe he's just got a way of masking it because Seungmin would never outright ask for help. He's stubborn, and he thinks it makes him look weak. Incapable.

In the end, you give in to his request. You let him lean on you in the elevator on the way up to his floor, the scent of his cologne still overpowering the bourbon he had all night and it makes you just a little nostalgic.

At his door, you hold onto his waist and look away when he punches in the passcode. The door unlocks and this should be it for the two of you, your unexpected reunion should be ending the moment Seungmin crosses over to the other side of the threshold, but he just turns around and looks at you, his body against the frame of the door this time.

"There, you're home safely," you say. "I've done my part. Goodnight."

"Come in."

"Why?"

"I'm tired. Come in." And with that, Seungmin retreats into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow without any further explanation at all. For a moment, you stand there by yourself, not really sure of what to do. You hear him shuffling inside, before the sound of his body plopping onto the couch carries over to your ears.

What business do you have here? What business did you have with Seungmin in the first place today?

And yet, you find yourself trailing inside, closing the door behind you until the lock clicks into place. Maybe you're curious to see what the place looks like since the last time that you were here. The two of you never lived together - you weren't foolish enough to agree even though he did ask - but you were over often enough to consider this your second home.

Not much has changed. It's still the same minimalist four walls that you were used to. Same light gray paint, same black couch. Same framed signature of his favorite baseball player and same tiny crack in the decorative bowl on the coffee table. There's a photo on the credenza lying face down seemingly on purpose, but you don't say anything about it.

"What am I doing here?" you ask.

"Why did you come?" he shoots you the question for the second time tonight.

You blink at him. He only stares back.

"Why did you call me?" you repeat. "Why did you really call me?"

Questions thrown out but no answers received, like you're both running in circles, with neither of you knowing why you're even running in the first place.

Seungmin purses his lips before he stands up, the suddenness of the movement leaves him unsteady on his feet, makes him hold onto the couch's armrest for support. "Do you want some water?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Okay."

"Give me a second. Have a seat."

You watch as he pads into the kitchen a little wobbly, then returns a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He sits back down on the couch next to you, some distance dividing the two of you. He takes a sip, you do the same.

"Called you because I missed you," he says, casually admitting it like he was merely discussing the weather. The place hasn't changed, but maybe he has.

The last time you spoke to Seungmin was about six months ago, when he dropped off your things two weeks after you broke up. You haven't had any contact since, and that's exactly the way it should be for you and him now. You went your separate ways and that was it. A mutual agreement that hurts, but it was mutual nonetheless. For the past half a year, all he's been to you is a stranger. You know why it had to happen. You agreed to it.

But, just because you haven't talked, doesn't mean that you haven't thought of him. You wish he only crossed your mind in passing, wish your brain only conjured up the image of him whenever you saw something that he would like, or whenever you caught a glimpse of him on the TV or radio. In reality, it's been much more pathetic. You think of him almost every day, despite your best efforts to cleanse yourself of everything that's remotely related to the name Kim Seungmin. His absence carries itself with you all the time, a hollowness that seeps into every crevice of your life.

You know he means it. Seungmin doesn't lie, least of all to you. His honesty twists inside of you like a knife. Salt, meet wound.

You have no words to offer him, no response you can think of that would make sense to say out loud so you don't say anything. The only sound that falls from your lips is his name, like a warning, a plea, a consolation all at once.

But he doesn't seem to mind. Not his sudden vulnerability, not your reluctance to entertain that split second of honesty.

"I answered your question. Now you have to answer mine," he says. "Why did you come?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes a moment like he's mulling it over in his head. "Thought maybe you missed me too," he says eventually, ending the sentence with a bitter chuckle. "Just a little bit."

You tongue your cheek, stall with another sip of water before you place the glass on the table. On a coaster of course, Seungmin hates cup rings on his fancy table.

You lean back to rest on the couch, staring up at his boring ceiling. There are memories of you on this very couch, ones of you lying with your head on his lap as he plays with your hair, the two of you winding down after a long day. Or ones that are far too inappropriate to bring up ever again, of nights where you were both too desperate and impatient to take it to the bedroom. Those gentle reminders are still here somewhere, tucked between the cushions perhaps.

"Sure." You hum, nodding along. "Let's go with that."

Another chuckle, humorless. Though, you think he's pleased enough with that non-answer but you're not sure. He mirrors your position, falling into the couch with a sigh. From your peripheral vision, you think he's scooched closer to you, just by a few centimeters, in the process of settling into the sofa.

"My turn," you say. "Why do you want me here?"

"What is this, 21 questions?"

You shrug simply. "You asked me to come in. I'm just curious."

When Seungmin stays silent for a beat too long, you turn your head to watch him, thinking maybe he's knocked out because of the alcohol in his system. But you find him wide awake, his eyes staring ahead, looking like he's already sober.

His face is unreadable when he says, "Wanted to see something."

"See what?"

"See if something is still there."

It's your turn to remain quiet as you process his words, and it's Seungmin who has to turn to gauge your reaction.

"And? Is anything still there?" you ask.

"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one that stayed."

"Does it matter? If I say there is?"

"Of course it does."

"What would you do about it?"

He goes still once more. You know he doesn't have an answer to your question. What would he do? What could he even do? Patch things up only for them to fall apart again in a couple months? Once upon a time, you were naive enough to think that you could find a way to make it work. You had enough blind faith to think that it would all work out in the end; that if you wanted it enough, maybe the universe would let you have this one thing.

You return your gaze to the ceiling. He's shown you his cards, maybe it's only fair that you show him some of yours too.

An uncertain inhale, then the realization that this is the only time you would be able to have an honest conversation with him about this.

"Wanna hear something funny?" you ask.

"I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."

It's anything but funny, and Seungmin is certain that you're not building up to a punchline. Sure, it's a little tragic that nothing matters, but there's some freedom, some comfort in that too. You can tell him everything that's plagued your mind for the past couple hundred days or so without having to worry about the repercussions. Even though not all is said, everything is already done.

"You know, you were mine before you were anyone else's," you say. You feel his eyes on the side of your face. The silence persists, and you aren't sure if you can take it as a sign to continue, but you do so anyway because at least he's not pumping the brakes on it, right? "I used to be jealous of your life. Toward the end, I mean."

"Jealous of what?"

"I don't know. Just your life, your dream. All of it."

Seungmin blinks. "You were jealous that I got to live my dream?"

"I said I was jealous of your life, not you," you correct him. "Because you always seemed to want everything else more than you wanted me."

"You make it sound like I was the bad guy." He turns a little defensive all of a sudden, an edge in his voice when he says, "That's not true."

You still remember him well enough to know that it is.

And it's not such a terrible thing; it's simply the truth. You can't fault him for having a dream and for having enough courage to see it through, even if it means unintentionally leaving you behind in the process. You could foresee the end even from the beginning. If you wanted to blame someone, you would have to blame yourself too.

You swerve around his metaphorical walls, his make-believe suit of armor. If you'd been nervous around Seungmin tonight, then that anxiety is now chipping away brick by brick the more you internalize the fact that nothing matters anymore.

"Remember your last show before we broke up? You were so happy, I was so proud of you. You belong on stage and I never wanted to take that away from you. But then I noticed the crowd, the thousands of people out there cheering your name and I realized that I would never compare to them. Their praise meant more to you than mine, and it was only a matter of time before you outgrew me to look for bigger and better spotlights.

"I'm not saying you were wrong for any of it. I don't blame you. You were always going to outgrow me. It's sad, but it's okay. I always knew that you'd have to leave me behind at some point. It's on me too; I just fell too hard too fast for someone who could never stay. It's your dream, you can't help it. But that night... that was the nail in the coffin for me, knowing that one day, to you, I would be just one of the faces in a crowd that you can't even tell apart."

It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. In fact, it's even a little cathartic to pour out the words that have been sitting heavy on your chest. Although it's not until a single tear spills over that you realize your eyes have welled up somewhere along the way. You quickly wipe it away with your thumb, then you feel his hand reach for yours after a few beats.

Seungmin calls your name, and you can hear the regret in his voice. When you look at him, his eyes have softened, no longer on the defense now that you've beat him to the offense. "I'm not drunk enough to forget about this in the morning, you know," he says.

"Does it matter? What are you going to do about it in the morning?" you ask. "We're already broken up. It's not like we can go anywhere from here. But at least now you know what it was like for me."

It seems to be a common theme tonight - stretches of silence in between admissions of truth so that one of you can gauge the other's reaction, trying to assess what path would be worth it to take at this crossroad you find yourselves unable to move on from.

Then he's tugging on your hand, pulling you to him until you're in each other's orbit again. Close enough for him to wrap his arm around you. Close enough that you're weak, not that you were ever that strong to begin with. It doesn't really come as a surprise that you let him.

"I..." Seungmin starts, full of uncertainty as he tries to string together a sentence. "We could go back."

This isn't a surprise either, that you're considering his words.

"What happens when it ends again?"

You can practically taste the residual bourbon on his breath when he leans into you, his lips brushing your cheek just slightly. "Then it ends again," he says, a little pained, all too selfish. "But it'll be worth it. It's worth it to me."

"What if it's not what I want? What if it's not worth it to me?"

He pulls back, putting some distance between your faces so he could see you better, the deep brown of his eyes searching for something that you're both aware of.

"You came tonight," he murmurs, as if that in and of itself is a sufficient enough explanation. "You stayed."

Not all is said, but everything is already done.

You had chance after chance after chance to leave, to shut this down - whatever this is - but you didn't, not even once. You're still a willing participant even though you've lived through this ending before. You know he loved you, know he loves you even if the way he goes about it is selfish.

Because you do know the answer to his questions. It's clear as day; anyone can see it from a mile away.

When your world eventually comes crashing down again some time from now, you won't blame Seungmin. You won't blame yourself either, despite having option to walk away from all of this right now.

Because maybe some pains are worth enduring twice, aren't they?

Why did you come? Why did you stay?

Is anything still there?

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.06.2024]

[thealternateuniverse]

Must Be Nice

Pairing/s: Bambam x Reader

Word Count: 2,632 words

Not really based but inspired from Bambam's song 'Must be Nice'

“Bam! Come on! There’s so much food, get over here already.”

Her voice was like a balm, soothing the tension buzzing in his nerves. Just hearing her made him feel lighter, like the weight on his chest had been lifted, even if just a little. He was relieved she came.

Bambam sat back, watching as she unpacked the food she brought. He should help, he knew that, but right now, he just wanted to admire his best friend. The one person who always made things feel a little easier. His own little ray of sunshine.

“Are you just gonna stare at me the whole time?” She glanced at him with raised brows. “You’ve got a performance in, what? Two hours? You need to eat unless you wanna pass out mid-stage.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. Sometimes he wondered what kind of good deed he must have done in a past life to deserve someone like her.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just about to help.”

She shot him a knowing look, clearly not buying it, but let it slide. Instead, she focused on setting up their meal, and soon enough, Bambam was happily devouring everything she placed on his plate.

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

“You look like absolute shit.”

“I know,” Bambam groaned, head throbbing, face swollen from a mix of oversleeping and last night’s questionable life choices. He and Yugyeom had completely lost track of their drinks, and getting home had been a mission.

“Sit your ass down. I’ll make you something.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped into his seat, watching as she moved around his kitchen like she owned the place. She always did this—showing up exactly when he needed her, as if she had a sixth sense for his suffering.

He leaned his chin on his hand, just observing. There was something oddly therapeutic about watching her do the most mundane things. She didn’t even have to try, and yet, just by being here, she made everything feel a little less miserable.

By the time she placed a bowl of something warm and comforting in front of him, the hangover still sucked, but at least he wasn’t suffering alone.

---

“Oh my god! Look at this! We literally looked like chickens!”

Her excited voice pulled him out of his food coma. He turned to see her holding up a childhood photo she’d found in one of his old albums, her eyes practically sparkling with amusement.

Bambam groaned. “Please put that away.”

“Absolutely not.” She grinned, shoving the picture in his face. “You were so tiny, Bam! Look at those little cheeks!”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “I swear, if any of these ever make it online, I’m suing.”

She laughed, flipping through the album. “Oh, come on. You were adorable. Though…” she held up a more recent picture of him for comparison. “What the hell happened? How did this tiny noodle turn into this?”

Bambam smirked, stretching his arms behind his head. “Puberty, baby. And the gym. Lots of gym.”

She huffed playfully. “I kinda miss your flannel-and-skinny-jeans era, though. That was peak fashion.”

He shot her a mischievous grin. “Oh? Should I bring it back? Just for you?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. No matter how much he changed, he was still the same Bambam. Her Bambam.

---

“Bam! Come on! For someone who hits the gym and performs for hours, your stamina is seriously weak.”

Bambam hunched over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Y/N, on the other hand, looked like she had just downed an entire can of energy drink. They had been on nearly every ride, braved multiple horror booths, and yet, she was still darting around like an overexcited kid at a carnival.

His breath hitched slightly as he watched her. She looked radiant, her eyes lighting up at every cute plushie and every spark of magic around them. The way she clutched that oversized Stitch bear he won for her made his chest feel… warm. They had come here to heal their inner child, and judging by the pure joy on her face, it was working. He felt it too like a part of him that had been weighed down was suddenly lighter.

Eventually, he gave up trying to chase after her, instead opting to watch from a short distance like a tired older brother keeping an eye on his hyper little sister. As long as she was happy, that was enough.

But then, she suddenly stopped, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Okay… I’m actually tired now.” She pouted, looking up at him with big, exhausted eyes.

Bambam scanned the area and spotted a vacant bench near the fountains. “Come on, let’s sit for a bit.” He took her hand, guiding her toward the bench. She plopped down beside him, placing the stuffed toy on her other side like it was a person.

Just as he was about to tease her, she leaned against his shoulder.

Bambam froze for a second. He could feel her breathing heavy and uneven. His playful smirk faded into concern.

“Hey… you okay?” He turned slightly to look at her, noticing how pale she looked.

She hummed tiredly but didn’t answer. That’s when he spotted the faint bruise on her arm. His brows furrowed.

“Wait—did you hit yourself earlier?” He reached out, gently tracing the mark with his fingers.

Y/N barely opened her eyes but managed a small smile. “I think so… Maybe in one of the horror booths?”

Bambam sighed, shaking his head. “You’re running around like a lunatic, and now you’re all banged up. Seriously, do I need to put you on a leash?”

She chuckled weakly, nudging him with her shoulder. “That sounds weird, Bam.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, fair. But still.” He hesitated for a second before softly patting her head. “Just rest for a bit. We’re in no rush.”

“Yeah… I kinda missed you.”

Bambam’s brow furrowed. She was acting like they hadn’t just seen each other last week. She was always around grabbing meals with him, showing up at his rehearsals, teasing him about his outfits.

“You’re getting clingy,” he teased, shooting her a playful smirk.

But Y/N only gave him a small, almost wistful smile.

“I’d make the most of it if I were you.”

His chest tightened. Something about the way she said it made him uneasy.

“Why?” He tried to keep his voice casual, but there was a flicker of nervousness. “Are you going somewhere?”

She shook her head. “No… but once I finish my master’s, I’ll have a real job. I won’t have all this free time anymore.”

Bambam nodded, though it didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, it was the opposite. He had gotten so used to having her around that the thought of her being too busy, of her drifting away, unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite name.

“No one will be around to annoy me,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

She chuckled, but his heart ached when she didn’t tease him back like she usually would.

“But yeah…” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It’ll feel different if I don’t see you in the crowd at my shows.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I will always watch you, Bam.”

For some reason, that didn’t feel reassuring. It felt… final. Like she was saying goodbye. Or maybe he was just tired. Maybe he was overthinking.

Shaking the thought away, he cleared his throat. “Let’s go on a vacation. After my tour in Thailand, we’ll go to Bali with the boys.”

Originally, he had planned it just for the two of them, but knowing how much Y/N missed Yugyeom and Mark, he figured they should all go together. It would be fun. And maybe, just maybe, it would make this strange feeling in his chest go away.

She laughed. “You always make plans where I can’t say no.”

“But you love it.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine. After all, I can’t miss your sold-out show in Thailand. I’m so proud of you, Double B.”

She looked at him, then really looked at him, with eyes full of admiration. And for some reason, it caught him off guard. His chest tightened, and he couldn’t put a name to the feeling that settled there.

“You’re the brightest star, and you always will be, my bestie.”

And just like that, the moment passed. Y/N playfully pinched his cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Come on! Time for dinner.”

Bambam followed her, but the uneasy feeling lingered. Like something was changing between them. He just didn’t know what.

---------

The humid air of Thailand clung to his skin as he adjusted his in-ear monitors, hiding behind his shades during soundcheck. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It was ridiculous, he had been performing for years, but today felt different.

Maybe because this was the biggest stadium in Thailand he had ever sold out.

Maybe because tonight, the crowd was bigger than he had ever imagined.

Or maybe because of the surprise he had planned for his best friend.

Y/N hadn’t been able to visit him backstage. Her flight had arrived late last night, and he figured she was still asleep. No texts, no updates. He’d leave her to rest.

But as the concert kicked off, adrenaline took over. The roar of the crowd, the synchronized ocean of lightsticks, the GOT7 banners waving high, it was overwhelming. Even after all these years, the love from the fans never faded. If anything, it felt stronger.

After their Hard Carry performance, Bambam stood at the edge of the stage, breathing heavily. His gaze instinctively flickered toward the VIP section, searching for her.

But the flashing lights, the glowing sea of green, the sheer energy of the crowd, it was all too much. He kept getting distracted by the way his fans had organized surprises for him, changing lightstick colors, holding up banners that spelled his name, the Ahgabong lightstick drone. His throat tightened. Y/N had always told him he’d make it. And looking at the sold-out stadium tonight, he finally believed it.

Still, he scanned the crowd again, hoping for a glimpse of her. But the lights were too bright, making it nearly impossible to see.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

“Before anything else…”

The cheers erupted, but he waited for them to settle.

“I just wanna thank everyone for coming tonight. You guys are amazing. None of this would be possible without you.”

He removed his earpiece, letting the deafening chants fill his ears for a moment before continuing.

“I also wanna thank my mom, my family, thank you for everything. I love you all.”

His eyes found his mother in the audience, and for a second, he let himself soak in the warmth of her proud smile.

“And to my special someone…”

The crowd hushed slightly, curiosity buzzing among them.

“I can’t see you because of these damn lights,” he joked, earning a wave of laughter. “But Y/N, if you’re here, if you’re watching, thank you. For believing in me since day one.”

The audience let out a collective aww, but Bambam wasn’t finished.

“She’s my best friend, everyone. And I have a little surprise for her.”

He turned toward the massive screen behind him, waiting as the footage played.

A video montage, years in the making.

Clips of him and Y/N as kids, laughing, playing, growing up together. Home videos, school memories, moments that had been buried in old tapes and camera rolls. It had taken months to restore, and he owed it to their moms for helping him dig up the past.

The stadium filled with applause as the video ended.

“I hope she doesn’t kill me for that,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, she had a glow-up.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

“I just wanted to make a little tribute to our friendship. Y/N, thanks for coming tonight. And… see you soon.”

With that, he turned back to the stage, ready to continue the concert, completely unaware of what was about to happen next.

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

Bambam kept his head down, hiding behind his shades and hoodie as he walked through the airport like a New Yorker late for work. The paparazzi swarmed, cameras flashing, bombarding him with questions about his sudden flight home.

He ignored them.

His swollen eyes burned from exhaustion and tears. His PR team had begged him to issue a statement, but he refused. He didn’t want the world to know—not yet. Not when he was still struggling to believe it himself.

Last night, the moment his concert ended, his mother had met him in the dressing room.

And then, she said the words that shattered his world.

"Y/N’s dead."

For a second, everything went silent.

The cheers from the crowd outside, the congratulatory chatter of the staff, all of it faded into nothing.

“What?” He forced out a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not a funny prank, Mom.”

But the way she looked at him the sadness in her eyes, the way her lips trembled made his stomach drop.

“She never made it to the concert, Bam.” His mother’s voice was gentle but firm. “She never even made it to the airport.”

His fingers felt numb as he scrambled for his phone, nearly dropping it in his panic. He checked his messages, desperate for proof that this was all some cruel mistake.

But there was nothing.

The last message from her was yesterday, telling him what time her flight would arrive.

“H-how…” His voice cracked as his breath came in short gasps. “No… She told me she couldn’t miss this concert. We were supposed to go to Bali. We—we just talked yesterday, and—”

He couldn’t finish. His brain refused to process it.

His mother’s next words were a knife to the chest.

“Bam… She had cancer.”

He felt the air leave his lungs.

“She had it for quite a while now.”

His knees buckled. He reached for the couch behind him, gripping the armrest as if it would hold him together.

“Leukemia.”

Bambam clenched his jaw, shaking his head. No. That didn’t make sense. Y/N wasn’t sick. She was fine.

But then it all came rushing back.

The exhaustion in her face.

The way she brushed off his teasing.

The bruises. The heavy breathing.

The way she kept saying she’d miss him.

"I will always watch you, Bam."

A choked sob escaped him.

She was saying goodbye.

And he hadn’t even realized it. He had laughed it off, brushed away the unease in his chest. And now… now she was gone.

The weight of it crushed him.

---

That was why he was here now, flying home with barely anything packed. He hadn’t slept. He spent the entire flight staring at his phone, scrolling through old messages, old photos, old videos his only pieces of her left.

When he landed, the airport was packed with reporters, fans, people curious about why he left so suddenly. But he didn’t care.

At the arrival gate, JayB and Youngjae stood waiting for him, their expressions grave.

The moment Bambam saw them, he fell apart.

His breath hitched, and the tears he had tried to hold back came crashing down.

"Hyung..." His voice broke as he turned to JayB, barely able to stand under the weight of grief.

JayB pulled him into a tight hug, his hand gripping the back of Bambam’s head. "I know." His voice was low, pained.

Bambam clenched his fists. "I'm too late…"

And then, he wept no longer caring about the cameras, his image, or the curious eyes watching.

Because the only person he wanted to see and was supposed to be with him now is gone.

[storm-angel989]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do valentino x teen reader where as, teen reader is in her rebellious era and how valentino would handle the situation?

Thank you in advanced! i love your works and i hope u have a great day!

Hi friend,

So I tried to make this different from my others- rather than going through a hair dying, secret piercing rebellion, what about those of us who decided we wanted to change the world without truly understanding why the world was the way it was? Those of us who tried to protest, to fight against the way life is run? 

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy  

Valentino stared at his daughter in disbelief. Disbelief that she would be so bold. Disbelief that she would dare to question the very thing that brought them the comfort and safety they surrounded themselves with. Disbelief that she honestly thought she would get out the door, let alone get away with dressed….

Dressed like that. 

“It’s a statement, Dad,” Reader snapped. “Now move, my friends and I have plans.”

“If you think for one second my daughter, Vox and Velvette’s niece, is going to involve herself in anything that has to do with canceling soul bound contracts you’ve got another thing coming,” Valentino retorted. 

“Hell is paved with the labor of unpaid souls,” his daughter replied as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And it’s about time my generation does something about it.”

Valentino took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, “put your tits away. And then we can talk about your misguided ideals.” 

“Aren't you the overlord of lust?” She growled. “Shouldn’t you be so proud that I…”

“I will not tell you again. No daughter of mine will leave this building dressed like…like…” Valentino couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Readers eyes narrowed. “Dressed like what, Dad? Like one of your whores? My point exactly, you wouldn’t want your daughter dressed like this! Those souls are someone's daughter, someone’s..”

Valentino felt his temper flare, and it took every single ounce of his self control to not explode right then and there. How could he have raised such a disrespectful brat? A child who dared to desire to shout about things she knew nothing about? A child who so blatantly disrespected everything her family had worked so hard to build. 

“Go to your room,” he said finally, “now.”

“I hate you!” She screamed. 

To his relief, she whirled around and a moment later, he heard the door slam. With a sigh, he turned back to the table and tossed what remained of his now cold breakfast into the trash. 

“You’ve got your hands full today, don’t you?” Vox remarked as he took a drink of his coffee. “Good call on keeping her home.”

“Where did I go wrong?” Valentino asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Anyone?”

Vox and Velvette exchanged glances. To Valentino’s irritation, Vox smirked and Velvette rolled her eyes.

“If you have any ideas, please, I’d love to hear them,” Valentino said sarcastically as he flopped himself back into his chair.

“I mean, Val, you’ve always been so good at keeping her out of the dark side of hell,” Vox began slowly. “Maybe it’s time you show her what life would be like if we didn’t…if we didn’t offer the employment opportunities that we do.”

“Or! Better suggestion, if you don’t want to traumatize the poor kid,” Velvette interjected, “offer to let her sit in Vox’s office and read through any contract she’d like. See the terms and conditions and see that really, we’re doing all sinners and hellborne a favor. And we pay them. Better than most, I would think.” 

Vox choked on his coffee and in one fell motion, his cup slammed against the table. “You want me…to take whatever evil that swept up my sweet niece…into my office and let her loose on our contracts? Just let her know all the dirty details?”

“Obviously, keep the worst ones tucked away, but give her a chance to see…even the slightly more in our favor agreements,” Velvette replied. “Shove some common sense into her face. That’ll help.” 

“If it’s the best idea we’ve got…ugh,” Valentino grumbled. “When exactly will she find her common sense again?”

“Sorry Val, if she’s anything like us…it’s gonna be awhile,” Vox answered with a grin.

[w2soneshots]

Break up era -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: angst, break up.

summary: Harry breaks your heart so you book a solo trip to Greece.

notes: I don't love this but I had to get something out for you all!!😚💞 (also please send requests to my ‘ask me anything’✉️)

Liked by mollymae and 242,179 others

y/username: meh

-comments-

taliamar: my girl, my girl��🏼

-> y/username: you already know😘

freyanightingale: love u

-> y/username: love u more

y/nfanpage21: she's healing😭✨

user40137927: my faith in love has disappeared.

Me and Harry broke up last week and I've been struggling. We were together for just over two years and I truly loved him with my whole heart (still do). He broke up with me because he said he'd 'lost feelings', which completely shocked me. Faith, Talia and Freya have been desperately trying to cheer me up and get me out of my apartment. I went on a shopping trip with Frey and T, as well as lunch with Faith. I also went to the gym for the first time in a while since it's meant to act little bit like therapy. None of it helped.

y/username just posted a new story!

After sitting in my apartment crying over Rapunzel and Eugene's love life I decided that I needed to get out of London, so I booked a last minute flight to a random island in Greece.

I spent the next week buying things for my trip, packing and trying to distract myself from Harry. When the day finally came I woke up early and headed to the airport via Uber. When I arrived I went through security, checked my suitcase in then spent the rest of my time in the business class lounge. Once my flight was called I left the lounge and headed to check in. When I got on the plane I found my seat and got situated, not soon after we took off.

y/username just posted a new story!

When we landed a few hours later I went to collect my bag. Then I got a taxi from the airport to a small boat that took me to the island. When I saw it on the booking website I thought it looked beautiful but it was seriously breathtaking in real life. The air smelt clean, the people are so kind and the food looks incredible.

The hotel is so rustic looking but also very well kept and clean. "Hello dear, do you have a booking?" The sweet lady at the front desk asked. "Yes I do, it should be under 'y/l/n'." I replied. "Ah! Yes, I'll show you to your room." She gestured for me to follow her with a big smile. "And here we are!" She said as I set my suitcase in the corner. "Wow this is beautiful, and what an amazing view!" I said enthusiastically while looking out of the window. She smiled "enjoy dear." And with that she left.

I spent my afternoon exploring the island then went back to the hotel to get changed for dinner. I wore a simple white knitted dress, along with some black flip-flops. I had an incredible (and surprisingly fancy) steak, along with some wine. I spoke to one of the locals for a little while before I decided to call it a night so headed back to my room.

The next day I woke to the bright sun shining through the sheer curtains. I practically jumped out of bed, got dressed then went into town to get some fresh fruit for breakfast. I then got into a swim suit and made my way down to the beach.

I sat enjoying the peace and quiet when I got a call from none other than Harry. I answered reluctantly "hello?" "Hey." He replied slowly. "What do you want Harry?" I asked with a sigh. "I'm sorry I- I know you're on holiday but- but I just wanted to apologise, and I couldn't wait any longer." He started. "Apologise for what? Because you don't love me anymore?" I said quietly. "That's just it... I do love you. I just didn't how much I did until you were gone. I don't know why I felt that way I don't know what happened." He said. "But- Harry you broke up with me... you broke my heart." He sighed "and I'm so sorry y/n," A tear slid down my face "I want to be with you but I- I understand if you don't want me anymore I-" "I still love you Harry, I always have. Of course I wanna be with you." I cut him off. Even know he hurt me I know that he wasn't trying to, he just didn't want to lead me on.

y/username

Liked by taliamar and 540,129 others

y/username: umm... that was a weird week.

-comments-

wroetoshaw: 😶

shannonlangdon: stunning stunning stunning!!

-> y/username: ❤️❤️

faithloisak: iconic⭐️

y/nfanpage21: love a good solo trip🤭

user63071426: omg!! Are they back together??

[powerfultenderness]

Wait how would neighbour könig react to a sick reader? Like they’ve holed themselves up in their apartment and are really unwell. I’m in my sickly Victorian child era and need comfort from this hunk of a man 💕

Exchange

Rated: Mature Word count: 2965 Notes: I flipped flop so much on what kind of sick, but settled on König taking care of you during your period because it allowed the exchange that takes place.

Eating dinner alone in the comfort of his own home had been something König used to look forward to. For one, the food was better than what was offered at the mess hall (not that it was particularly bad). There was also the quiet his home offered, no loud and rambunctious soldiers turning meal time into some form of entertainment or competition. As he rose in rank, he started working while eating, then when he finally got his own place, he discovered he didn’t have to. He could take the time to simply enjoy his meal. It was refreshing, to say the least, and turned into a routine. He liked routines…until he didn’t. Until you moved in next door.

Lately there had been a little dance between the two of you. Sometimes you’d invite him over for dinner, other times he’d invite you over. As much as he wanted to sit you down and insist on a set schedule (every day), he didn’t want to scare you away. The next best thing, he figured, was to bring you dinner himself, no excuses, just because he wanted to spend time with you.

He was confident when he knocked on your door. You had expressed interest in this restaurant before and now he was certain to win some favor by sharing his favorite foods with you. 

He was confident until you opened the door. 

“Hey, König.” You started, a quiet pained sigh following your greeting, “I’m not really up for hanging out tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he took in your appearance.

You were wearing what he assumed was your pajamas, a t-shirt and a pair of black shorts that normally would have had him drooling over your exposed skin, but that he was too worried that you were hunching over slightly in obvious pain. 

You shook your head, “nothing. I’m just not feeling good.” 

“Let me help,” he lifted his hands, intending to herd you back inside and either to the couch or your room, but as he did so he brought the container of takeout closer to you. 

“Ugh, König!” You slapped a hand over your mouth and nose and quickly dashed to the kitchen, where you flung yourself over the sink and threw up. It wasn’t much, all liquid, bile and spit and what little water you had managed to get down. 

He cursed quietly and followed you, dropping the food on the counter before gently touching your back. At least he tried to, but you waved him off as you grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe your mouth, though you kept it pressed to your face as you spoke. “I’m just really sensitive to smell right now.” 

“Oh!” He realized that it was the take out that had caused you to suddenly throw up and apologized before darting out of your flat with the food. 

You were still in the kitchen when he came back, having dropped the food off at his place. “Darling, please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.” 

“Nothing.” You sighed as you tried to stand straight, though one of your hands remained pressed to your lower stomach.

“You just threw up on an empty stomach, I do not think that is nothing.” 

You scoffed quietly and resisted rolling your eyes. “It’s nothing. I just need to rest, so I’ll see you later, alright?” 

You tried to get him to leave, instead he moved even closer to you, setting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Please. Let me help.” 

You looked up at him, worry clear in his eyes despite the mask he still wore, and sighed as you broke eye contact by dropping your head onto his chest. He didn’t seem to mind and started to gently rub your shoulders. 

As you leaned against him, he started to worry even more. You felt so weak, trembling slightly in his arms, he had to resist the urge to scoop you up and take you back to his home, where he could properly take care of you. 

“It’s just my period, it’s bad the first day. Just let me go back to bed.” You mumbled and attempted to pull away from him, of course he didn’t let you.

“Okay.” He easily picked you up in a bridal carry, ignoring your squeaked protest, and walked you back into your room. 

He’d been in your room enough times to see how unusual it was currently. Your bed was a mess, blankets in a tangled bundle with your pillows strewn about, used tissues scattered on the bed and the floor. Your nightstand had a glass of water and some pill bottles on it, next to your laptop which was turned toward the bed with some movie on pause. 

He gently set you down on your bed and helped straighten out your blanket so you could get comfortable. You mumbled your thanks as you curled up on your side.

“Do you need anything?” 

You were about to tell him no when your knee hit the, now cold, heating pad under your blanket.

“Uh, actually, can you throw this in the microwave for ninety seconds?” 

He nodded with a soft “of course,” and gently took the heating pad from you. 

Once he was back and handed you the warm compress, he kneeled next to your bed. “Anything else? Something to eat? Fresh water?” 

You groaned and shook your head. You were so nauseous you could barely hold down enough water to swallow the pain medication, there was no way you were ready to eat yet. 

“Cuddles?” He asked as you were shaking your head.

You actually chuckled, his own smile softening his eyes.

“I like cuddling with you, König.” Though it didn’t happen as often as either of you would like. “But not now. I move too much and I don’t wanna bleed on you.” 

König pulled your blanket up to your shoulder, as it had fallen when you reached for the heating pad. “A little blood doesn’t scare me, darling.” 

You laughed again and scrunched up your face. “Gross.” 

“Oh,” you looked back up at him, “you really wanna do me a favor?” 

He nodded, almost too eager to finally do something to help you.

“Can you take me to work tomorrow? I hate driving like this.” 

“You’re going to work tomorrow?” He blinked rapidly, surprised to hear that you were considering this in the state that you were in.

“Yea,” you laughed again, “my period isn’t exactly a good excuse to miss work. Besides, I’ll feel better in a few hours.” 

König hummed like he wanted to disagree but nodded. “Alright.” 

“Thank you. I usually leave around seven.” 

Of course, he already knew that. Not that he was going to say so out loud.

König stood back up and hesitated, looking back and forth between you and the door.

“What?” You prompted him.

“You need to lock the door.”

“Ugh!” You turned your face into your pillow, hiding a grin. “Just leave it unlocked.” You’d get it later. You had to get up eventually. 

“I’m not leaving your door unlocked all night!” König chided as he looked back at you. Especially not when you were this weak and vulnerable! “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You pushed yourself up with another weak laugh and rolled your eyes. “König, you can barely fit on that couch sitting down.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving you with your door unlocked.”

“I’ll lock it later. Or, or just use my spare key.”

König stiffened, “spare key?”

“Yea. It’s on the shelf in the living room, in the white and blue bowl. With a Hello Kitty keychain.” 

As König followed your directions, finding the key easily, he fought with his own thoughts. You were not giving him free access to your flat whenever he wanted! You were just letting him borrow it because he was the one insisting the door be locked. 

After taking a moment to settle his racing thoughts, he popped back over to your room and knocked on the door to draw your attention. 

“Found it,” he said as he held up the key with its cute little cartoon charm attached. 

“Good.” You peeked up at him before settling back down, “thanks, König, goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

He double checked that the door was locked before he made his way back to his own flat. And even though he thought he should return your key to you tomorrow, he looped it onto his own set of keys. 

-

König was concerned when in the morning you admitted to still not having eaten. He was even more concerned when he picked you up from work you admitted to also having skipped lunch. 

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, again, as he helped you down from the truck. “I’ll eat later. Right now I just need a nice hot shower and to stretch.” 

Thankfully it was the weekend and you’d get to spend the rest of your period in peace.

“Stretch?” He asked as he opened the door to the building.

“Yea,” you put a hand on your lower back. “My back doesn’t like when I hunch over so much.” 

König followed you inside and up the flight of stairs, all the way to your door, silent. Maybe you read his insistence on your well-being wrong, most men would rather not talk about women's periods, why should he be any different? 

He was so close to you as you unlocked your door though, that you had to open it and partially step inside just to properly turn to face him. You were about to thank him, but he was leaning down almost in your face.

“Wha-” 

He took your hands in his and looped them around his neck, “hold on.” 

“What?”

He then wrapped his arms tightly around your back and stood up straight, pulling you into a hug that lifted you off your feet.

You let out an involuntary groan as relief flooded you as your back released, the accompanying pop of your back cracking loud enough for both you and König to hear clearly. 

He set you back down, glad of the mask hiding his burning face, and loosened his hold on you until his hands were softly resting on your hips. 

You looked up at him, a bashful smile lighting your face as you continued to cling to him, your voice barely above a whisper. “That felt really good.” 

His eyes went wide and he quickly pulled his hands back, blood thrumming at the little whimper that you let out when your arms fell away from him. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. If he didn't leave now, he'd do something inappropriate, like push you up against a wall and devour you. The thought stirred him until he looked at you again, at the way you pressed a hand to your lower belly in an attempt to alleviate some of the cramping, and reminded him that now was not the time.

“I should, uh, leave you to that shower.”

You hummed and smiled, “alright. Thanks for the help, g’ni-”

“-And I’ll stop by to check on you in an hour.”

You breathed out a laugh, “you really don’t have to.”

“Will you eat?”

You made a face and groaned. While not nauseous enough to throw up from something as small as sipping water anymore, you weren’t quite feeling like eating just yet. Though, maybe you were at the point of questioning whether you were nauseous because you weren’t eating, or if you weren’t eating because you were nauseous. 

You opened your mouth to answer him, to tell him that you’d eat later, but he shook his head. “I’ll bring you something to eat in an hour.” And he walked away before you could protest.

You sighed, well, his heart was in the right place…

-

You were feeling infinitely better after a hot shower, glad to put on your comfiest t-shirt and shorts and wait for König to show up with food. Just as he said, a little under an hour later he knocked on your door. 

“I got you soup.” He said instead of a greeting when you answered, holding up a covered, steaming, glass container. 

“That actually sounds nice, thank you, König.” 

He smiled, the little creases around his eyes giving tale to it, behind his mask, as he walked in. “Good. I was afraid you would say you would eat later.” 

“I mean, it’s technically later now.” 

He shook his head and motioned towards the bar stools you had pushed up against the counter. “Sit.” 

He’d been over enough times to know where things were in your kitchen, and served up some of the soup with a glass of water. It was a light soup, mostly broth with finely diced vegetables. 

“Is this what you eat when you’re sick?” You asked as he continued to move around your kitchen.

“I don’t get sick.” 

You scoffed a laugh that you tried to play off as you blowing on the hot soup.

“...Yea.” He answered truthfully as he put a kettle on.

“No shame in a good ol’ Cup a Soup. I have some in the pantry, you didn’t have to raid your stash for me.” 

“Had to make sure you would eat.” 

You laughed a little at that, surprised at how well he seemed to know you. You would feel a little guilty for not finishing a bowl if it were something that he brought over instead of what you just had sitting in your pantry. 

“What kind of tea?”

“Peppermint. With two spoons of honey.” 

You were finished with your soup by the time he was done preparing your tea just the way you like. 

Following a cute little exchange of an empty bowl for a fresh tea cup, he motioned to your room with a nod, “go lay down. I will clean up.” 

“Kay. Thank you.” You didn’t argue with him this time, because all you really wanted to do anyway was climb in bed. 

König followed after you just to grab your heating pad then headed back to the kitchen.

You were careful with placing your tea on the nightstand, close enough to reach while you’re in bed and but not too close to the laptop that’s facing the bed. 

“I have something for you,” König started as he came back, just as you settled down.

First he handed you your heating pad, which you were glad to pull under the covers with you. Then he held up your favorite candy bar, “for when you feel better.” 

You chuckled, “aww, thank you, König!” 

He set that down next to your tea and shifted on his feet awkwardly before he looked at you again. “And this. Here.” 

He held out his hand in a loose fist towards you.

“Hm?” You reached out to let him drop whatever it was into your palm.

You blinked at the slightly warmed metal in your hand and smiled when you looked down. A single key attached to a plain key ring. 

König was looking up and away from you when you looked back at him, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stuttered out an explanation. “Just in case, yea? I want you to keep it.” 

“Okay,” you said softly and reached over to the nightstand and slipped it inside the drawer. “I’ll keep it right next to me.” 

König’s heart fluttered at how intimate the simple little gesture sounded and he was once again glad that his face was covered. “Need anything else?”

You hummed and patted the bed next to you. “Cuddles?”

His eyebrows shot up at your request. “I thought you didn’t want to cuddle?”

“That was last night! But if you don’t want to cuddle, it’s fine. I’m sure I have a plushie around here somewhere.” You sat up and glanced around your room, trying to remember where you stashed that cute teddy bear you had.

Before you could point out your bear, König moved around to the other side of the bed and lifted the blanket enough to slip under it, muttering for you to lay back down. 

There was a bit of an awkward shuffle as he kicked off his boots and settled behind you, spooning you.

“Ack, you’re on my shirt, you’re choking me!” You half laughed as you tried to pull the tail of your shirt from under him.

He cursed and pushed himself up long enough for you to free yourself. “Why are you wearing such a big shirt?”

“It’s comfy!” 

“And where do you get such a big shirt?” He teased as he tugged on the excess material before settling his hand over the heating pad that was slipping, keeping it close to your abdomen.

“I stole it.”

“You stole it? From who?”

“Mmhm.” Then you paused to hit play on the movie you had picked out, “just…someone.” 

Your ex. You didn’t want to say it, didn’t even want to think of your ex while wrapped up in König’s arms, but your silence itself was loud enough for him to hear it. 

“Do you do that often?” “What?”

“Steal other people’s clothes?”

You laughed, “well, it is hard to resist a comfy shirt.” 

“Little thief.” He teased in German, chuckling at your “what?!” that followed.

You were familiar with his nicknames enough that you picked up on the word ‘little’ but you didn’t know the second word. 

“Only of comfy t-shirts!” you protested when he translated for you.

König chuckled and nudged you slightly, “watch your movie.” 

He didn’t pay attention to the movie, even if you did insist that it was good. He was too busy trying to figure out a way to tempt you with one of his shirts. 

[Neighbor!König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist: 

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 @wybwtjmiadz @ghonigsloverbabe @thatmusedhatter @grassclippers @skystreamchan @lordlydragon @luvecarson @thetestsubject666 @mafer383 @darkangel4121 @puppylikethedog  @trashitytrashitytrash