Hello! I'm Mahal (Mah-hal). Thanks for clicking my blog. I'm just starting to write fanfiction, so I hope you like it. So far, I'm thinking of writing about characters from Attack on Titan (Levi Ackerman), Fields of Mistria (likely Reina and March), and maybe Avatar: The Last Airbender (likely Zuko and Sokka) 😝
Here's my masterlist. I'll try to keep it updated.
Also, minors please do not interact. This blog is rated 18+. A lot of my likes and reposts will be nsfw. If you don’t know what nsfw means, you’re too young for this blog.
Rule #1 of surviving second year med school: Never use mind numbing sex as a cure for pre semester burnout. Rule #2: Pray the stranger who kept you up until dawn isn't your new Cardiovascular Pathology professor.
New professor, Dr. Li, thinks you planned your night together just to manipulate your grades, making him your harshest critic and coldest nightmare.
CW: P in V. Smut 🔞MDNI 🔞
4:30am
He still hadn't stopped.
Your wrists were pinned above your head, both of them caught easily in one of his hands, and the morning light coming through the blinds was doing you no favors because you could see his face clearly and his face was the best face you had ever seen on a man.
"You're being loud again" he murmured, his mouth at your ear "Someone is going to hear you"
"Fuck—" You tried to move your hips and his free hand pressed flat against them and held.
"Look at me."
Dark eyes, completely steady, watching your face with focused attention, like he had been doing it all night and had not yet found it boring.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked
"Nonono, don't stop," you begged"Please don't—"
He drove into you slowly and whatever you were going to say next didn't happen.
He had looked so different last night.
Five hours ago you were sitting at a bar nursing a lime soda, trying to remember what your own name was.
Four days of cardiovascular pathology pre reading. Four days of arterial diagrams and a highlighter that had run out on day two but you'd kept using anyway out of spite, leaving faint colorless streaks across pages you were probably going to have to re read again. Your shoulders were practically locked in a perpetual knot and your brain probably had the texture of wet cement.
You just needed one hour. One hour of not being a medical student.
The bar was quiet, three blocks off campus, a place that played jazz badly enough that nobody stayed for too long. You'd ordered a lime soda because you had an eight AM class tomorrow and because the last time you'd had gin on a weeknight you'd shown up to pharmacology smelling like a bad decision and your study partner had not let it go.
You were two sips in and staring at nothing when someone sat down two stools over.
Dark coat, slightly too nice for the bar. Hair that looked like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. He ordered a neat scotch, barely touching it, staring straight ahead like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He looked reserved, painfully polite when the bartender handed him his glass.
The jazz got worse.
"They really committed to the trumpet," you said, to the space between you. "I'll give them that."
He looked over. Startled, like he'd forgotten the bar had other people in it. Then something relaxed in his face and the corner of his mouth moved.
"The commitment is admirable," he agreed. "The execution is another matter."
His voice was a little rough at the edges, like it hadn't been used much today.
"First time here?" you asked.
"Is it that obvious?"
"You ordered the scotch and their scotch is really bad. Regulars know not to order it."
He looked down at his glass and then yours. "You're drinking lime soda."
"I have class at eight tomorrow."
"So do I."
"Then you're also going to regret the scotch."
"Probably." He didn't drink it. Just turned the glass slightly on the bar. "Is the lime soda better?"
"It's better than you'd expect for this price.” You held out your glass. "Try it."
He looked at the glass. Looked at you.
"Just a sip." You held it closer. "I'm not contagious."
He took the glass. Tried it. "That's better than I expected."
You took the glass back. "The jazz is awful but some drinks are good."
He almost smiled. Properly this time.
An hour later you'd discovered he was also in medicine and wouldn't say more than that. He wasn't shy exactly, more like someone who'd gotten used to not being asked.
You'd ordered another lime soda. He'd switched to water.
An hour later, outside, the night air felt cold, you stood on the sidewalk and looked up at him and the reasonable thing would have been to say well, nice talking to you and go home to get eight hours of sleep before the first day of a very important class.
"My apartment is two blocks from here"
He looked at you for a moment. "Okay"
The quiet reserved man who'd looked startled when you spoke to him lasted approximately as long as it took your front door to click shut behind you.
After that he was something else entirely.
He had your back against the hallway wall before you'd turned the light on, his hands finding your waist like he knew where they were supposed to go, mouth coming down on yours with a deliberateness that had nothing shy about it. He took his time. He was methodical in a way you hadn't been expecting and couldn't have prepared for, working through every response, adjusting, applying what he learned.
He kept you up until early morning. Multiple times. Your voice was gone by three AM, your thighs were shaking by four, and by five you'd stopped being surprised by anything he did.
By six you'd finally fallen asleep, briefly, against his shoulder.
--------
7:15am
"Zayne! Zayne, stop."
"Mmmm"
"I have class at eight. I cannot be late."
"You still have time"
His hips keep a slow rhythm, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His eyes are dark and heavy lidded, completely unbothered by the time.
"I have forty five minutes and I need to shower and find my notes and eat something and I haven't peed since like three AM and I'm not getting an UTI because of you—"
"Just a little more," he whispers, lips brushing against your throat.
"I'm serious," you whine, though your body betrays you, arching up against him instinctively as his grip on your hips tightens. "I can't miss this. It's my first day of —"
"Shh," he cuts you off softly, leaning down to capture your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp before his mouth slides down to your collarbone. "Five more minutes. You're fine. It feels too good to stop now."
"Zay—"
"Look at how wet you still are" he shifts his angle, hitting the exact spot that makes your brain turn to mush.
He rolls you over, pulling you back against his chest, his hand sliding down between your thighs while he fucks you from behind. The friction feels dirty and intoxicating. You bury your face in your pillow to stifle a scream when he fucks you harder, his breath heavy against the back of your neck. He holds you so tight against him that you can feel every single beat of his racing heart against your spine.
Twenty minutes. He ruins you for another twenty minutes, bringing you to a shattering, body shaking orgasm that leaves you breathless and tangled in the damp sheets. When he finally cums, he buries his face in your hair, his heavy body pressing you into the mattress as he lets out a ragged exhale.
Then, he lazily rolls over to his side, reaching for his watch.
7:42 am
He freezes.
You turn your head slowly, watching as his brow furrows, eyes staring at the watch face. He blinks once. Twice.
"What time is it?" you ask, voice cracked and hoarse.
"It's 7:42"
"Holy shit!" You sit up too fast and immediately regret every single decision you'd made in the last eight hours. You rip the covers off, almost falling out of bed as you scramble across the floor. "I'm going to be late! I'm going to be so fucking late!"
Zayne sits up rapidly "Where is my shirt?"
"I don't know." you are already across the room, yanking the closet open, pulling out the first things your hands touch. Jeans. Fine. Sweater. Fine. Socks, where were your socks? you had socks last night!
"Bathroom?" he asks.
"Through there, use whatever you need, just—" you are hopping on one foot getting into your jeans. "Don't use my toothbrush."
A pause from the direction of the bathroom. "I'm not going to use your toothbrush."
You grab your tote bag and start throwing things in. Notebook. Textbook —heavy, unnecessarily heavy, why were medical textbooks built like weapons?. Laptop. Charger. Pen. Another pen because you always lost the first one. Your student ID.
Zayne comes out of the bathroom, his clothes back on and his hair slightly damp. He lookes unfairly composed for someone who had approximately the same amount of sleep as you.
He opens his mouth.
"I have to run," you say, grabbing your keys. "Pull the door shut when you leave, it locks automatically. Don't let anyone in if they knock. Don't—" you pause, calculating, "—actually if anyone knocks just don't answer, my neighbor borrows things and never returns them"
He is watching you with an expression you don't have time to interpret. "Wait—"
"I'm sorry, I have to—bye, thank you, the door—"
You are already in the hallway.
The stairs take thirty seconds. The cold air outside hits you and you break into a run, bag bouncing against your hip, five blocks to the medical campus, the textbook inside the bag apparently made of fucking concrete.
Your thighs stage a formal protest around block two but you ignore them.
You hit the glass doors of the medical building at 7:58 and make it to Lecture Hall 3B with enough time to collapse into a seat in the middle row.
The clock ticks to 8:00.
You look up at the front of the room.
The podium is empty.
Other students are settling in, opening laptops, existing normally, having presumably slept normal amounts and done normal things last night. You push your hair back. Catch your breath. Tell your body to behave itself.
You pull out the textbook. Open it to chapter one. Anatomy and Hemodynamics of the Cardiac Muscle.
The door at the front of the lecture hall opens.
Quiet footsteps on the floor, the kind that don't rush. The room goes silent and a tall figure in a dark coat crosses to the podium and looks out at the room.
"Good morning."
You stop breathing.
That voice. You know that voice. It's the exact voice that called you good girl thirty minutes ago.
You lift your head from your textbook very slowly.
Dark hair, white shirt, perfectly buttoned, every button in the right place, no evidence of the last eight hours anywhere on him.
He reaches up and adjusts his glasses.
His eyes move across the room, row by row, and when they reach the middle section they find you immediately.
You watch him breathe.
Just once. Just a short arrested thing, his eyes stopping briefly on your face, your very flushed, still slightly out of breath face.
He clears his throat once.
"I'm Dr. Li," he says, and his voice comes out perfectly even, not a single crack in it "And I will be your professor for Cardiovascular Pathology."
You are so fucked.
Idea inspired by this 👇🏻🩷🩷. Will there be a scene like this? Yeah🤭
I know, I already have too many wips but I couldn't help it😭
in your relationship, “what's mine is yours” is sylus's motto. he just…never expected you to use his wealth to keep your favorite tv shows from being canceled.
before you met him, you'd been betrayed one too many times by some greedy network axing your beloved series one season in. so when you finally gain the resources to fight back, you vow to never be left on an unanswered cliffhanger ever again.
as the current season of your most-watched show comes to an end, you scour the news for a renewal announcement that never comes. when the inevitable “unfortunately, this series will not return for another season,” article drops, there’s no time for mourning—only action. you stay up all night running numbers you shouldn’t even know, wondering just how many zeros it’ll take for the studio to change their minds. (and they will change their minds. like, the main characters haven’t even kissed yet! there’s potential here, people!)
within the next week, the retraction statement floods the media:
“to our amazing community: an anonymous benefactor has made a multimillion-dollar donation to the production team behind your favorite show! their generosity will secure at least five more seasons for this brilliant team of creatives. thank you for making your voices heard!”
hmmph, you think when you finish reading. and don’t let it happen again!
other fans around the world rejoice at the network's change of heart, though they’ll never know the “benefactor” who made it happen was one of their very own.
and sylus? he hardly pays your philanthropic endeavors any mind. the funds are yours to spend, as far as he’s concerned; plus, if it means more cozy nights lying next to you, hearing you gush about scenes and storylines while your favorite show plays in the background…well, if it makes you that happy, he might just buy the whole network himself.
☆ Day 1 of Levi Month 26 | Modern AU | event by @levievent
☆ Summary: Your anniversary dinner is supposed to be elegant, romantic, and unforgettable. It certainly becomes one of those things.
☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Gender-Neutral Reader
☆ Genre/Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship, Anniversary, Humor, Fluff
☆ Word Count: 1.2k
☆ Check out the other days!
☆ AO3 Link
☆ a/n: thank you to my beta reader @slaytherinthoughts! please don’t ask for a part two or I’ll go to Target and start meowing. don't ask for a part two, even jokingly, or I'll block you.
Levi books the reservation four months in advance.
He doesn’t tell you until the evening of your third anniversary, when you pause outside the restaurant beneath an awning and stare through enormous windows at white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and people who look like they’ve never checked their bank accounts before buying anything.
“Levi,” you murmur, glancing down at your outfit and suddenly wondering whether you should’ve worn something nicer, “this place has a doorman.”
“I can see that,” he says.
“The doorman is wearing gloves.”
“He’s just opening a door, honey.”
The doorman opens it with a gracious smile, and Levi places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside before you can have a crisis and run outside. He looks unfairly handsome tonight, dressed in a dark suit that fits him perfectly. So perfectly that you’re trying not to stare. You can already see what he’s thinking even though he’s trying desperately to hide it. He wants this to be perfect.
“You planned all this months ago, didn’t you?” you ask after the host leads you toward a small candlelit table.
Levi pulls out your chair for you. “Maybe.”
“How long?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Four?” His silence answers you. Your smile grows warm. “You’re adorable.”
“Just sit down.”
You sit, still smiling, and Levi takes the chair opposite yours. For a little while, everything is perfect. The restaurant is unbelievably beautiful, the candlelight catches in Levi’s grey eyes, and beneath the table, the toe of his shoe rests lightly against yours. Your waitress, Gabi, comes to get you started off with drinks. After she leaves, Levi reaches across the white cloth to take your hand, his thumb moving over your knuckles.
“Three years,” you say.
“Hm.”
“You sound absolutely thrilled.”
“Wouldn’t be here if I hated you.”
“Shakespeare has nothing on you.” Levi smiles.
Then the waiter spills both drinks directly into your lap.
Neither you or Levi reacts at first. One moment, two glasses are being carried toward you; the next, sparkling water and red wine cascade across the table, soaking the cloth, splashing your clothes, and extinguishing the candle with a tiny hiss.
The waitress freezes. You freeze. Levi looks down at the wine dripping from the edge of the table onto his pants.
“Oh,” the waitress whispers.
Levi looks at her. Gabi begins apologizing quickly, scrambling for napkins while you press your lips tightly closed, because Levi looks like he’s using every ounce of self-control to not say something that will get you escorted out of the restaurant.
“It’s okay, hun,” you assure the waitress, grabbing Levi’s wrist beneath the table before he can object. “Accidents happen.”
“They happen to incompetent people,” Levi mutters.
Gabi hears him. You know because her face crumples slightly before she flees to retrieve more napkins. You glare at Levi.
“Be nicer, would you?” you whisper.
“My socks are wet.”
“I’m sure they’ll write songs about your suffering.”
You’re quickly moved to another table, offered replacement drinks, and assured that your meals will be paid for. Forty-five minutes later, there’s no food. The couple seated beside you, however, is providing dinner and a show.
“I know about Vanessa,” the woman hisses.
The man recoils. “Vanessa is my dental hygienist.”
“You don’t floss.”
“That’s exactly why I need a dental hygienist!”
Levi slowly closes his eyes and exhales slowly. You lift your fresh glass to hide your smile, but it’s utterly useless. Laughter escapes you in a short undiginified snort.
“Don’t,” Levi warns without opening his eyes.
“I’m not doing anything,” you say shakily.
“You’re shaking the table.”
Beside you, the argument intensifies.
“Then why did she text you a tooth emoji at midnight?”
“Because I have gingivitis, Claire!”
Your shoulders tremble. Levi opens his eyes and stares at you, his mouth wavering, threatening to break into a laugh. “Why are you enjoying this?” he whispers.
“I’m learning so much about oral health,” you say.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You love me.”
“I’m starting to regret that.”
Your meals finally arrive after an hour. They’re both wrong. You look down at a plate containing something covered in mushrooms after specifically requesting no mushrooms, while Levi stares at a piece of fish he most certainly did not order.
The waitress smiles nervously. “Enjoy.”
Levi looks at you. You look at Levi. At the next table, Claire announces that Vanessa can have him. Levi reaches into his pants, pulls out his wallet, removes enough cash to cover the drinks and tip, and places it on the table.
“We’re leaving,” he declares.
You blink. “What about our romantic dinner?”
“I’m about to romance you into a cheeseburger.”
That’s how your meticulously planned three-year anniversary dinner ends with the two of you sitting in a twenty-four-hour diner, still dressed in your finest clothes, sharing greasy fries. No chandeliers, no candlelight, no quiet violin. There is, however, a sticky patch beneath your bare elbow and a milkshake so thick you nearly choke trying to drink it. Levi watches you struggle with the straw for a few seconds before sliding his own untouched spoon across the table.
“Thanks,” you say.
“You looked pathetic,” he scoffs.
“You’re the most romantic man alive.”
“I booked the other place four months in advance,” Levi grumbles, poking at a fry.
“This is so much better, though.”
His brows draw together slightly, wondering if you’re just trying to make him feel better. He knows you wouldn’t do that to him, though. “Honey, your clothes are stained.”
“So are yours.”
“And the food took an hour.”
“But we found out Claire’s boyfriend has gingivitis.” Levi chokes out a laugh. You reach across the table and take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “I mean it. This is perfect.”
Levi looks over your face for a long moment and you watch the disappointment and hint of anger leave him little by little, his shoulders relaxing as his fingers clench around yours.
“I wanted to do something special,” he says.
“You did.” You lift his hand and kiss his knuckles. “You threatened a waiter with just your eyes, rescued me from a mushroom invasion, and bought me fries. I’ve never felt more cherished.”
“She spilled wine on you.”
You laugh. You’re not even mad about it anymore. “And you looked like you were ready to challenge her to a duel.”
“I was considering it.”
“I know. It was very sexy.”
Levi rolls his eyes, but his thumb strokes slowly over your hand, betraying him.
A little later, when you leave the restaurant, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders despite your protests. You walk toward the car hand in hand, but Levi suddenly stops in front of a storefront.
“What?” you ask.
Levi draws you closer by the waist and kisses you slowly. You make a small noise of surprise, but you still wrap your arms around him, running your fingers through his undercut. The stupidity of the evening melts into the feeling of his mouth against yours. When he pulls away, his forehead rests briefly on yours.
☆ Day 7 of Levi Month 26 | Streamer AU | Event by @levievent
☆ Summary: Levi does not get jealous. He is simply very committed to maintaining order in his chat, especially when that chat starts flirting with his girlfriend.
☆ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Female Reader
☆ Genre/Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship, Streamer AU, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Jealous Levi, Flirting
☆ Word Count: 1.2k
☆ Check out the other days!
☆ AO3 Link
☆ a/n: thank you to my beta reader @slaytherinthoughts. pls don't ask for a part two. the council is watching me. if you ask for a part two, even jokingly, I will block you.
Levi’s stream setup is unsurprisingly spotless. There’s not a single crumb near his keyboard, not a single cable out of place, not a single fingerprint on his glossy microphone. Even the little cup of tea beside his monitor sits on a coaster. His camera is angled perfectly. He looks so deeply unimpressed by the game he’s playing at the moment that anyone watching would think he’s being held at gunpoint. Which, according to Levi, is exactly what streaming feels like.
You sit just out of the frame on the couch behind him, wearing one of his hoodies as you pretend not to watch him more than the show playing muted on your phone. He’s wearing his headset, his brows drawn together in concentration. He leans a little closer to the screen, his fingers moving over the keyboard.
“If this idiot runs into the open one more time, I’m letting him die,” he says.
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “You say that every round,” you tease from the couch. “And then you save him anyway.”
Levi looks toward you, a softness hidden so well under the annoyance he displays that most would miss it, but you don’t; you catch it every time. And every time, it makes you smile.
“Keep talking. You’re next,” he says.
You thought you spoke low enough that the microphone wouldn’t pick up your voice. Unfortunately for you, the chat heard you. Messages begin moving faster along the side of the screen, a blur of usernames and custom emojis. Levi looks at them briefly, knowing trouble is coming.
Then the donation alert chimes, and an automated voice reads aloud, “Donation from CleanFreakSupremacy: Levi, tell your girlfriend her voice is cute.”
Levi freezes for a brief moment. You press a hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh. He says nothing for one second, but the silence is funnier than any audible reaction could have been. His jaw ticks, his eyes narrow at the monitor, and when he speaks, his voice is so flat he almost sounds bored.
“No.”
You can see enough of the chat from your spot to catch small pieces of the messages pouring through.
Tell her hi!
WAIT SHE’S REAL?
LEVI HAS A GIRLFRIEND?
her laugh was so cute
COMMON LEVI W
MOVE THE CAMERA
that was so adorable
Levi silently wishes he could intimidate the thousands of strangers watching him into silence through a deadly stare. “She’s not part of the stream,” he says. Then another donation chimes immediately.
“Donation from midnightrose55: Respectfully, girlfriend, you sound adorable.”
Levi grips his mouse harder. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying so hard not to laugh that your shoulders begin to shake. It shouldn’t be this funny. It really shouldn’t. But Levi, who can face the most terrifying horror games with a bored expression, is more affected by a few flirty donations.
“Stop donating to flirt with her,” he warns.
The chat moves faster. Another chime.
“Donation from ShortKingEnjoyer: is she single?”
Levi slowly looks at the camera. “No, my girlfriend is not fucking single.”
You lose the fight and burst into laughter on the couch, nearly curling into a ball as warmth rushes to your face. You tap the couch cushions in a fit. You know he’s not actually angry. Levi is far too secure for that… at least, you think he is. But you know he hates sharing attention, least of all with someone named ShortKingEnjoyer. It makes your heart squeeze.
“Levi,” you manage, still laughing, “be nice.”
“I am being nice,” he grits. “Nobody’s been banned yet.”
Chat picks up on the looming threat immediately.
BAN ME LEVI. IT’S WORTH IT
ask her to say hi!
girlfriend cam when?
SHE SHOULD STREAM INSTEAD
You watch his mouth twist into a frown, and because you both love him and love tormenting him, you stand from the couch and move closer to his chair. Levi senses you approaching before you even reach him. His posture changes slightly, his shoulders rising and his head turning slightly. His hand pauses on the mouse.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
You lean into the webcam frame anyway, resting one hand on the back of his chair and giving the camera a little wave. “Hi, chat!”
The messages fly by too quickly to read. The alert chimes again, again, again, the beginning of the stupidest war to exist. Levi looks at the camera, then at you, then back at the screen, and the redness creeping up his cheekbones is so cute it should, frankly, be illegal.
“Donation from bashfulwolf6599: Oh, she’s gorgeous. Levi, blink twice if you want a third person in your relationship.”
Levi’s face goes blank. You make a strangled noise that’s half laugh and half gasp. He clicks something on the screen, and it takes you a moment to realize what he did.
“You timed them out?” you ask.
“Five minutes,” Levi mutters.
“You banned someone for complimenting me?”
“I’m giving them time to reflect.”
Another donation chimes.
“Donation from reiner0010: sounds jealous to me.”
Levi squints. You see the moment his patience snaps, but it honestly doesn’t take much to tell, because soon, that user is banned too. “You’re gone too,” he mutters, clicking again. “You people are getting too comfortable.”
“Levi, you cannot keep banning people because they’re teasing you,” you scold, although you’re barely containing your giggling.
“I can. Watch me,” he says.
HE’S SO MAD
she should start a channel! i’d sub
girlfriend stream WHEN?
JEALOUS LEVI HAHAHAHA
You look at the screen before looking at him, and your smile grows wickedly. “Maybe I should start my own channel.”
Levi whips his head toward you. “No.”
“You don’t think I’d be good at it?"
“I didn’t say that. I just—”
“They already like me.”
“That’s the problem.”
You should probably be annoyed that Levi is getting jealous over a bunch of pixels and harmless teasing, but seeing him sitting there with reddened cheeks and a clenched jaw because strangers on the internet have complimented the woman he loves makes you want to crawl into his lap and kiss every bit of irritation off his face.
So you bend down and kiss his cheek. Levi freezes. The camera hides nothing. The chat messages dissolve into hearts, screaming, keyboard smashing, at least three people demanding a public wedding stream. Levi looks at the chaos unfolding for a long second, then he shifts the mouse and clicks. The stream ends. Silence drops over the room so suddenly that your laughter fills all of it. Levi removes his headset, sighing quietly.
“You’re so ridiculous,” you say.
“And you’re banned from my stream.”
“You can’t ban me. I live here.”
“You’re banned from the house too,” he says, though his hands find your waist before he finishes speaking, pulling you a little closer. You stand between his knees as he swivels to face you. You lift your hand and lightly brush your thumb against his ears, which now match the redness of his cheeks.
“They can donate all they want. I’m still going to bed with you at the end of the night,” you smile.
Levi’s skin flushes an even deeper shade of red. He stares at you for a moment, caught somewhere between embarrassment, victory, and a tenderness he always tries and fails to hide from you. Then he clears his throat, looks away, and tightens his arms around your waist.
lads boys 🍎 ⛄ ⭐ 🐦⬛ 🐠 🐺: react to the "isapod wants...." trend
warnings: fem reader! suggestive content! swearing!
ꨄ︎ lads masterlist ꨄ︎
chuu's note: this was a pain to make but i hope its ok TT
Caleb
Zayne
Xavier
Sylus
Rafayel
Valko
chuu's note: xavis one lowk something I did when I was interstate... I would bother my friend who was the floor beneath cos I didnt have enough bread lol (we usually got 1 loaf and split it bw each other cos we were saving money)
I can lowk see Balor doing the bob trend on tiktok. He’d have to be talked into it by someone or get the idea from them because I don’t think it’d be on his fyp.
