20doozers

[20doozers]

This is so unbelievably well written holy shit???

You guys have got to check her work out it’s amazing!

and always remember, hard drugs aren’t the way to escape. Everything gets better, sure it’s rough and slow but sometimes you just need to push through it. And as someone who’s seen and heard just how horrible hard drugs and even cigarettes can be on your body I truly don’t think I’ll ever encourage anyone to do those things. And if you are struggling please know there are resources and ways to get help. People care, so don’t go out in such a horrible manner.

Tom x female reader where they are both in the wrong place, drugs, cigarettes both have a bad influence on each other but at the same time they can't live without each other

ADDICTED | TOM KAULITZ

TW: TOXIC RELATIONSHIP AND HEAVY USE OF DRUGS

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

you met tom in a bathroom, of all places. it was 3:43 a.m., the tiles were sticky, and the music from the club throbbed through the walls like a pulse you couldn’t escape. he stood under the flickering light, dreadlocks tied back, cigarette hanging from his lips, eyes hooded and unreadable.

you were there with someone else. he was too. but none of it mattered once your eyes met.

“got a light?” you asked, holding up your cigarette even though you already had a lighter in your purse.

“only if you give me a drag.” he replied, and that was the beginning of the end.

it started with smoke breaks. sharing joints outside of afterparties, fingers brushing, eyes lingering. you talked about nothing and everything — music, pain, childhood memories that still hurt when you pressed too hard. he told you about nights on the road that blurred into each other, about the pressure, the emptiness, the silence between the noise. you listened like it mattered.

he liked the way you didn’t care. you liked the way he made you feel seen, even when you were disappearing.

the drugs came after that. it was slow.

you didn’t even know what it was — some off-brand benzo he got from a friend of a friend. tom held it out to you between his fingers, smirking like it was candy.

“just one,” he said, “we don’t have to do anything else. just float.”

you were in the back of a cab, legs tangled in his, some song humming from the stereo, your heart already beating a little too fast from the night. you’d spent the evening drinking cheap whiskey in a club that pulsed like it had a heartbeat. the world was blurry around the edges. he’d kissed you in the bathroom stall, hands on your hips, teeth dragging across your throat like he needed you to survive.

you took the pill with a swig of something sweet and bitter.

he kissed your forehead like you’d done something holy.

you ended up in a motel that night — one of those off-the-highway ones with neon signs buzzing through the window and cigarette burns in the blankets.

you never remembered how you got there.

but you remembered the way it felt.

you laughed for hours — at nothing. at everything. he told you stories that made no sense, and you told him your secrets like they didn’t hurt. your limbs were jelly, warm and loose, and you melted into him like the whole world had finally stopped demanding anything from you.

he pulled you into his lap, fingers trailing up your spine, mouth dragging lazy kisses down your neck.

“you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, “like a dream.”

you made love slow.

then fast.

then again and again, like your bodies were the only way to stay awake.

you fell asleep with his hand between your thighs and your head on his chest, giggling like teenagers in the dark.

and for a moment, everything was perfect.

—

the pills came more often after that.

blue ones, pink ones, ones you didn’t name anymore.

you danced through clubs like you owned them — him behind you, his hands on your waist, your hair stuck to your neck with sweat. everything tasted like freedom.

you’d sneak out the back doors of shows, lips on fire, pockets full of little escapes.

you’d kiss in elevators, laugh until you cried, scream at each other in the rain and make up under flickering motel lights.

you were reckless.

gorgeous.

untouchable.

people called you dangerous.

people called you addicts.

you called it love.

because it was — wasn’t it?

love in a capsule.

in a mirror.

in a song you couldn’t remember the next day.

you wrote your names into the walls of every place you stayed.

you carved your initials into the night like you could make it stay.

but it didn’t.

it never does.

—

then, nights after those, someone passed him a little baggie, and he turned to you like he needed your permission.

“you cool with this?”

you nodded. you always nodded. you both stopped asking questions after that.

so that was the first time you snorted it with him, running back to his house and doing it off a scratched-up mirror on the coffee table at his house, between an empty bottle of vodka and an overflowing ashtray. the lights were low. the tv played something no one was watching. your heart was already a little broken before the powder even hit your bloodstream.

“you sure?” tom asked, thumb brushing your knuckles. he looked fucked up already, pupils wide, lip caught between his teeth.

you nodded. maybe you weren’t sure, but he was your anchor, and if he was sinking, you were going down with him.

you watched him cut two lines, slow and careful. his hands were steady — like he’d done this before. too many times.

you leaned in and did it quick, sharp. it burned. your nose stung, your eyes watered, but then the rush hit, and suddenly the world didn’t weigh so much.

he leaned back, watching you with that crooked little grin. the one that made your chest ache.

“see?” he said, voice low. “not so bad, right?”

it became your ritual after that. bad day? a line. an argument? a line. celebration? a line.

you stopped looking for reasons. it just became part of the rhythm — like kissing, like fighting, like sleeping with the blinds closed because neither of you could stand the light.

—

you knew things had gone too far the first time you watched the needle sink into his arm. there was no music playing. no noise. just silence — loud, thick, and cruel.

you sat across from him on the floor, legs folded beneath you, trembling as he tied off his arm with the drawstring from your hoodie. his lips were chapped, hands steady, eyes far away.

“tom.” you whispered. you didn’t even know what you wanted to say. just his name. just something to keep him here, now, with you.

he looked up for half a second. his eyes were glassy. “don’t freak out, baby. it’s just once. just to take the edge off.”

but you both knew better and it wasn’t just once.

the first time he gave you heroin, he was gentle. he held your face in his hands and kissed your forehead before he slid the needle into your vein. you didn’t want to feel it, but god, when it hit? it was like drowning and floating all at once. the world got quiet. your bones stopped aching.

you melted into the floor with his arms around you, and for a moment, you weren’t broken people in a broken room. you were just… free.

but the fall always came.

you woke up two hours later, heart hammering, throat dry. he was slumped next to you, barely breathing. you shook him until his eyes fluttered open.

“don’t fucking do that to me.” you cried, clawing at his chest like you could keep him alive by force.

“i’m fine,” he said, blinking slow., "we’re fine.”

but you knew you weren’t. you weren’t.

—

there was a week — seven long days — where you tried to stop. cold turkey.

you’d both agreed, in the middle of a comedown that left you sobbing in the shower with your skin itching and your thoughts too loud.

“we have to stop." you’d whispered, curled up in bed, arms around your stomach like you were trying to hold yourself together.

tom didn’t answer right away. he just stared at the ceiling like he was trying to see through it.

“yeah,” he finally said, voice wrecked, “okay.”

the first day, you were angry.

the second, you were trembling.

the third, you puked three times and told him you hated him.

he yelled back, said you were just like everyone around him — manipulative, hollow, cruel.

you threw a glass at the wall. it missed.

he slammed the door and didn’t come back until 3 a.m.

when he did, he was sweating, shaking, and empty-eyed. he crawled into bed beside you and didn’t say a word. just pulled you into his arms like you were the only thing keeping him from disappearing.

day four was hell.

the headaches, the cramps, the screaming fits — you were on fire from the inside out.

“i need it,” you whispered, pacing the room, nails digging into your scalp, “i need something. anything.”

tom just stared at you, pale and hollowed out. “you think i don’t feel the same?” he snapped., “you think this is easy for me?”

you lunged at him, fists pounding against his chest. he caught your wrists, held them tight. you both froze — wild-eyed, breathless, too close to the edge.

“i hate you.” you gasped.

“i know,” he whispered, “i hate me too.”

day five, you broke, but he did first.

you found him in the bathroom, hunched over the sink, powder on the counter, tears in his eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he kept saying, “i’m sorry, baby, i can’t— i can’t do it without it.”

you didn’t say anything.

you just joined him.

—

the fights got worse.

the come-downs were savage. your body hated you. your soul hated him.

you were cold all the time. tired. shaking. empty. and the only thing that stopped the screaming in your head was the high.

he started using more. disappearing for hours. you found syringes in his jacket, in the bathroom cabinet, under the bed.

you were angry, sad, disappointed. you both had saidd days before that cocaine was oay, but you both would've stopped with the heroin.

one night, he stumbled in at 4 a.m., and you were waiting for him — sitting cross-legged on the floor, crying.

“you promised,” you choked out, “you fucking promised me we would stop with the heroin. what the fuck is this?" you cried out, holding a little bag.

he just looked at you like he didn’t even recognize your face.

“what do you want from me?” he slurred, “you think i’m your savior? i can’t even save myself.”

you stood. pushed at his chest. “you’re the reason i ever touched this shit. you dragged me into it.”

“bullshit!” he screamed, voice cracking, “you wanted it. don’t act like i forced you.”

“i wanted you,” you sobbed, “i didn’t want to be like this.”

he exploded.

grabbed the lamp off the dresser and smashed it against the wall. the crash echoed, the light went out, and you both stood in the darkness, shaking, hearts bleeding out of your mouths.

his hand caught your arm.

oo tight. too fast.

not a slap. not a punch.

but enough, enough to make you cry out.

enough to leave bruises the next morning.

enough to make you flinch when he let go.

you stumbled back, cradling your arm like it wasn’t even yours.

the look on his face shifted instantly.

all the rage drained out of him, replaced by horror.

his mouth parted like he might say your name, but no sound came.

you just stared at him. silent. trembling.

your breath hitching in the silence, too scared to speak, too angry to scream.

then the anger cracked open and grief poured out.

his face crumpled. he slid down the wall and buried his face in his hands.

“fuck. fuck. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean—”

his voice broke.

you fell to your knees in front of him, crying so hard your ribs ached.

“i don’t want to die like this." you whispered.

he looked at you, tears running down his cheeks.

“i ruined you,” he said, “i ruin everything i touch.”

you crawled into his lap, arms wrapped tight around his shaking body. he held you like you were the only good thing left.

and maybe you were or maybe you were both just sinking at the same time.

“we were supposed to save each other.” you whispered into his neck.

“i know.” he whispered back, “i’m so sorry, baby.”

but sorry doesn’t fix track marks.

sorry doesn’t undo the nights you almost didn’t wake up.

and neither of you knew if you’d survive the next one.

—

a month later, you found him on the floor.

he was blue, eyes half open, lips parted, a needle still dangling from his arm like some cruel joke from god.

your scream cracked the walls, you shook him so hard your hands went numb.

“tom—” your voice was hoarse, raw, “wake up. please, wake up—”

he didn’t move.

you called 911 with shaking hands. you said his name over and over again like it was a prayer. the operator kept asking if he was breathing. you didn’t know. maybe. barely.

when the paramedics came, they pulled you off of him. you were screaming. crying. begging.

they hit him with narcan. once. twice. nothing, then a gasp.

then chaos.

you rode in the back of the ambulance holding his hand, even though he couldn’t hold yours back.

you whispered, “don’t leave me." over and over until your voice gave out.

—

he woke up in the hospital three days later.

white sheets. heart monitor. the sharp, cold light of survival.

you were slumped in the chair beside him, hair matted, eyes red and hollow. you hadn’t slept. hadn’t eaten. just sat there, watching his chest rise and fall, terrified it might stop again.

“hey.” he rasped, barely a breath.

your head snapped up. the moment your eyes met his, the dam broke. you covered your mouth and sobbed so hard your whole body shook.

“i thought you were dead,” you choked, “i thought i lost you.”

he turned his head away. shame bloomed across his face.

“maybe i should’ve been.” he muttered.

“don’t say that,” you snapped, voice cracking, “don’t you fucking dare.”

silence.

then: “rehab,” you whispered, “we have to go.”

he didn’t answer, but he didn’t say no.

and that was enough.

—

it was a private facility, outside the city. green lawns. sterile halls. nice nurses with soft voices.

you shared a room for the first week. you cried through detox. held each other when it got ugly. nightmares, cold sweats, vomiting — the whole hellish unraveling. he screamed in his sleep. you woke up with your hands shaking and your ribs sore from sobbing.

but for a while… you were healing.

he joked again, played guitar in the common room. you started writing. poems, mostly. messy little things about pain and hope and how love can rot.

then he got restless.

“i’m fine now,” he said one night, sitting on the edge of your bed, biting at his thumbnail, “i don’t need to be here.”

“yes, you do. i'm fine too but we need to stay until the doctors say we are fine." you said gently, reaching for his hand.

he pulled it back. “this place isn’t for people like me,” he muttered, “i’m not some rich kid with a coke problem. i’m just… me.”

“you almost died, tom.”

he looked away. “yeah. and it felt better than being sober.”

that night, he packed. they couldn’t stop him. he signed himself out and left while you were at group.

you found his note folded in your pillow.

"i love you. but i can’t do this. not like this. not here.

i’ll get clean my own way.

i’ll be okay.

don’t wait for me.

– t."

you cried like someone had ripped your soul out of your chest. but you stayed. you finished the program. you healed.

without him.

—

you woke up that morning with sunlight on your face.

it was warm — the soft kind that didn’t hurt. it spilled through the rehab center window in pale streaks, casting golden lines across the bed, the floor, your hands.

you blinked a few times and smiled.

you couldn’t remember the last time waking up felt… okay.

tom had been gone for sometime now. not a word, not a text, not even a missed call. it used to tear you up inside, but lately, it just made you determined. because you were almost there. because tomorrow… you were going home.

ninety days clean.

ninety fucking days.

you reached for the notebook on your bedside table — the one the center gave you.

you flipped to a fresh page and started to write:

day 89. i think i’m ready. it’s weird, being proud of myself. i haven’t felt that in a long time. i hope tom’s okay. i hope he’ll be proud too.

you thought about the last thing he said to you — “i’ll be okay.”

you repeated it in your head like a lullaby.

you wanted to believe him.

you pictured him waiting for you tomorrow — maybe sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, that familiar lazy grin on his face. maybe he’d say, “you actually did it, huh?”

maybe you’d cry.

maybe he would too.

you imagined hugging him and smelling the same old hoodie. you imagined him clean. you imagined a future again.

you put on makeup for the first time in months. nothing fancy — just a little mascara, a little color in your cheeks. the girl in the mirror looked tired but alive.

you told the nurses thank you.

you helped another girl braid her hair before group.

you said, “i’m nervous, but i’m excited.”

you said, “i think i’m gonna be okay.”

and you meant it.

that whole day, you carried a little joy in your chest like a candle you didn’t want to blow out.

the next day, you’d be free.

you didn’t know that across the city, a hotel door had already been kicked open.

you didn’t know he never made it past last night.

you didn’t know his hands went cold while yours were still reaching.

you didn’t know yet.

not yet.

you got the call at 2:17 a.m.

you didn’t scream. you didn’t cry. you just sat there, frozen, staring at the wall until the sun came up.

they said it was accidental. you knew it wasn’t.

at the funeral, they played one of his demos. something he wrote when you were still together.

you couldn’t listen.

you walked out.

but later that night, you found an old voicemail from him — one you’d saved without meaning to.

“hey. it’s me. i dunno when you’ll hear this. maybe never. but uh… i just wanted to say i’m sorry. for all of it. for not being what you needed. for not making it. i love you. even if i disappear, remember that, okay? i fucking loved you.”

you curled up on your bed, the phone pressed to your chest, and cried until you couldn’t breathe.

he was gone.

but he was still everywhere.

in the smoke. in the silence. in the scars.

you’d never be whole again.

because some loves don’t end — they haunt.

—

you didn’t pick up again after the funeral.

you could’ve. god knows, the grief begged for it. the emptiness stretched wide and loud, like a scream trapped behind your ribs. you thought about it. you thought about the warmth, the quiet, the numbness.

but then you’d see his face, the way he looked in that hospital bed, the way he cried the last night you held him, the way he tried — even when he couldn’t anymore.

and you stayed clean.

every morning, you poured coffee into the chipped mug he used to love. you sat by the window and lit a candle instead of a cigarette. some days, it didn’t feel like enough. some days, it felt like too much.

but you stayed.

you went to meetings. you talked about him when your voice didn’t shake too much. you kept a photo of him in your journal — the one where he was laughing, head thrown back, sun catching in his eyes. no needles. no pain. just him.

alive.

you wrote letters to him that you never sent.

"i’m still here, tom.

i didn’t let go.

you couldn’t stay, so i’ll stay for both of us."

and on the anniversary of his death, you lit a joint but didn’t smoke it.

you set it down by the river where you first told him you loved him.

and you whispered,

“this is for you.”

then you walked away.

still shaking.

still scarred.

but still clean.

because if you couldn’t save him in life,

you’d carry his name in your healing.

and that would have to be enough.

[20doozers]

Still alive fam ??🫡

Yep, still alive. Having some mental struggles and getting medication. I should be back to brainstorming soon but fics are on a momentary pause.

[20doozers]

★hard day,soft night★

TW: cuddling, fluff, some nudity mentions, m!reader, two very gay and in love teens, 2005-2006 georg, American football player Georg, sweet nickname “baby”, very sweet and patient Georg, I think that’s it

A/N: I’m sorry this is so short I really am neglecting you guys but life is super busy recently

Georg groaned as he trudged to his bedroom after a long day of school and aching joints from football practice. It had been a rough day, just doing exercises and running laps around the field because they’d lost last week’s game. Georg was miserable and only wanted to climb into bed. Georg tossed his backpack on the floor before going over to his closet to grab a clean pair of sweatpants to wear to bed. Yet when georg stripped off his hoodie and tossed it in the general direction of his bed he heard a little grunt come from under the blankets.

Georg froze, slowly turning to look for what had made the noise when he spotted a sleepy looking m/n poking his head out from under the blankets. M/n being around Georg’s was always common and sometimes m/n waited at his place for Georg to finish practice so they could hang out and relax.

“Oh, hi m/n, sorry about that..” Georg couldn’t help but laugh, m/n looked pissed, like an angry animal being disturbed in its natural habitat, his hair messed up and a little sleepy scowl on his face.

“…I hate you..” m/n grumbled quietly as he sunk back into the blankets, hidden among them once more.

“Uh-huh sure you do.. I’ll be there in a minute.” Georg just continued to get changed before eventually climbing into bed with m/n, gently sliding an arm around his waist to pull him closer. M/n gave a few soft noises of disapproval but didn’t put up much of a fight when Georg tucked m/n against his chest and kissed his head gently.

“I hate when you have late practices..” m/n whined, much softer and less mad at being provoked.

“I know you do bud but it’s only for a few more weeks, then football season ends and I’m all yours for the winter.” Georg reassured, gently rubbing a hand up and down m/n’s side, shushing him softly.

“Promise…?”

“Promise. I’d never ever ever lie to you m/n.”

“…okay..” m/n finally settled against Georg’s chest, letting out a yawn as he curled further into Georg.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.. so tired..” m/n whimpered, barely able to keep his eyes open as Georg gently rubbed his back and held him close, the warmth and love too much to handle.

“Then sleep baby.. I’ll be here when you wake up, it’s a weekend after all.” Georg murmured softly, craning his neck to kiss m/n’s head.

“..baby..?” M/n croaked weakly, looking up at Georg confused.

“Shhh.. just sleep, we’ll talk in the morning..” Georg whispered, and with that m/n was soon fast asleep against Georg’s chest, warm and content in the arms of his bestfriend? Lover? Whatever they were they loved eachother and that was all that mattered right now. Two dumb teens in love.

YAYYY I finally finished a fic. I wish I would have posted this on Georg’s bday cuz the days lined up exactly but unfortunately I just haven’t been able to write really well lately. And this new tumblr layout makes my layout look terrible so I’m sad💔 This is a super short one and I feel bad about it but it’s the best I can do right now so please be nice to me😞 okay anyway I love you guys! Take care of yourselves!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @billskeis @divinelolita (let me know if you wanna be on the taglist!!)

[20doozers]

I genuinely am so terrible to you guys I’m so so so so sorry.. I tried to work on a fic but I’m genuinely just so burnt out and my mind blanks every time I try to type.. I’m so so sorry for letting you guys down again. I really am trying I just can’t. I’m so sorry for the empty and broken promises and i really am trying to do better. Again I’m sorry if you guys are disappointed or upset with me, I totally get it if you guys are, just please be patient with me.

Maybe if I feel better later I’ll scramble something together for Georg’s bday..

Love you guys❤️

[20doozers]

Okay so good and bad news. Good news is I’m alive and okay, bad news is tumblr decided to deleted the fic while I was putting in final touches so unfortunately that means no fic. But there will be one next weekend I’m so so sorry guys😭

[20doozers]

New fic will most likely be coming out on the 23rd!!! I started it on Wednesday and can’t finish it in two hours but you guys will get a fic soon I promise!!!

[20doozers]

when will there be a new fic? we're waitingggg!!

Sorry!!! I’ve been super struggling with motivation recently and everything feels so overwhelming but maybe this weekend? I’ve been thinking and I have some ideas but they’re all a little out of my comfort zone and I have a request I haven’t finished yet.. anyway I’ll probably post one next weekend but please be patient with me, I can only do so much in a week😭

I really do hate to keep yall waiting but time goes so fast and I’m super busy on weekends and it just all clashes in a really busy schedule most days.. I promise I’m trying though.

Anyway, love you guys!! Please please take care of yourselves and don’t be stupid like I’ve been these past few months. <3

[20doozers]

he’s so hot holy shit

[20doozers]

★cold bed, warm boy★

TW: cuddling, fluff, some sexual undertones but mostly fluff,

A/N: sorry about disappearing for a while, I’ve been busy and taking care of my own metal health so why not come back with a Georg fic??

The sun was low in the sky as Georg laid in bed, soft beams of sunlight peeking through the curtains as he slept peacefully, his arms around his lover and his face resting on the pillow, his hair splayed out in a sort of mess from tossing and turning. Georg was always a rough sleeper when he slept with m/n. The two teens always stayed together when they could, so when they finally got some alone time when Georg’s parents went out of town they stayed at his place.

Georg’s shirt had been discarded onto the floor at some point, now only in a pair of sweatpants, m/n on the other hand was just wearing a hoodie and boxers he’d stolen borrowed from Georg’s closet. But slowly the two began to wake up, m/n waking up first and Georg following when he felt a warm body press against him. He sighed and murmured, sleepily murmuring a soft “g’morning..” as he pulled m/n closer.

M/n could only hum in response, accepting the gentle pulling as he was soon pulled close against Georg’s chest, rolling his eyes as he felt Georg lightly grind against him from behind.

“Georg…” m/n whined, too tired and not really in the mood.

“Shhh… ‘m not gonna make you do anything.. just letting you know..” Georg murmured into the crook of m/n’s neck, sex wasn’t usually a heated passionate thing, it was always either sleepy morning sex or sweet sex that was more of a ‘I love you you’re my everything’ thing. Even if they did have more urgent sex they always cuddled after, aftercare was always super super important for the two.

Georg hummed quietly as he gently kissed m/n’s neck, Georg was always patient and gentle. If m/n wasn’t in the mood then Georg didn’t push, if m/n just wanted to kiss and jerk off then Georg was okay with it. Sure Georg was the dominant one but communication was important and he never wanted m/n to be uncomfy with anything he did.

“Jus’ relax baby.. you want anything at all? Or do you want me to fuck off and go do it myself?” Georg asked with a little grin, kissing m/n’s cheek as he rolled over to look at Georg.

M/n couldn’t help but giggle, rolling his eyes at Georg’s teasing. “Noooo… leave me and my innocence alone.”

Georg sighed and sat up, patting m/n’s side before climbing out of bed. “I’ll be back eventually, feel free to come join.”

Georg then left, leaving m/n alone in bed, but m/n didn’t care much, just sighing as he sleepily snuggled down into the blankets. The bed was warm and smelled like Georg and m/n loved it, quickly falling back asleep as georg went to go shower and sort himself out.

When georg returned he found a sleeping m/n splayed out across the bed, sleeping peacefully with his face shoved into Georg’s pillow.. what was he gonna do with this boy?

HIIII!!! Sorry about disappearing, I’ve been super busy and struggling with mental health and now I’m sick, but I’m back with a short Georg fic for redemption. Mkay love you guys!!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @d0wn-in-the-morgue @billskeis @divinelolita let me know if you wanna be on the tag list!!

[20doozers]

pls take care of yourself

I’m trying my best to right now, it’s kinda tough but I’m trying to feel better before I start prioritizing writing again :)

[20doozers]

I haven’t written in a while and I’ve been taking a much needed break, depression is still kicking my ass and I’m really struggling mentally and physically with some joint pain and weird waves of nausea and a lot of other icky stuff. I got a request yesterday and I’m working on it but right now I’m just focusing on my mental and physical health.

I love you guys so so much and I really appreciate all of the love my fics get, I can’t believe I have 360 followers! I appreciate you guys so so much and I wish you all the best in life, please be patient and considerate that I’m not getting to requests and posting as much. I’m alive and well I promise. Love you guys!

I apologize guys! No fic tonight, I’m a bit busy and forgot to write this week. I know it’s disappointing and I need to get my life together but I’m not in the best place recently so please just be patient with me. Love you guys!

[20doozers]

Bill is evacuated and hopefully safe from everything, I’m not super religious but these fires are something to pray about.

Large wildfires are spreading across West Hollywood and Hollywood hills, the palisades area, Eaton, etc. there are 6 fires now and it is getting bad and dangerous with lots of evacuations, homes and museums, and lots of places and things burned. If you’re around that area please stay safe and if you’re not but know people around those areas please check on them. Fires are no joke and with the lack of water and the winds it really is dangerous. Keep yourself and others safe, evacuate if necessary and please for the love of god stay vigilant.

A few people have died so far and the winds aren’t even at their worst. Pray for LA and the affected areas, my heart goes out to those affected.

[20doozers]

I apologize guys! No fic tonight, I’m a bit busy and forgot to write this week. I know it’s disappointing and I need to get my life together but I’m not in the best place recently so please just be patient with me. Love you guys!

[20doozers]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I wish I could put it into words how happy I am that I found this fandom, it’s been an amazing year and I’m glad that I’ve found a community, although somewhat small, that appreciate my work even if it’s my first time writing fics and such. I’m incredibly grateful for you guys, happy new years, and take care of yourselves. Love you guys!!

[20doozers]

No fic this weekend, new years fic next weekend! Happy new years guys

★Christmas cookies★

TW: fluff, kissing, m!reader, use of y/n and m/n, making cookies and being ridiculous, some teasing, just sweet fluff, some kissing and teasing, nicknames like baby, etc

A/n: I’m back guys! Well I’m still sorta slow on fics but I’m trying to work on it cuz the holidays and such are so busy.

Tom stood clueless in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the ingredients laid out on the counter as his boyfriend washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Uhh.. baby I don’t think I’m equipped with the skill to do this..” Tom sighed, turning to look at m/n as he chuckled and flicked water at him before drying his hands.

“Oh shush, such nonsense isn’t allowed in my kitchen. You’re only here to do the cookie cutters anyway.” M/n remarked, earning a huff from Tom as he walked over and went back to the gingerbread cookies he was making.

“Our kitchen, plus I can make a mean cheesecake.”

“Uh-huh, Tom you do everything but bake.” M/n huffed teasingly, rolling his eyes as Tom came up behind him and hugged him, Tom’s arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. Tom snuck his hands around to m/n’s stomach, pulling his shirt up a tad and sneaking his cold hands under m/n’s shirt.

“Tom! I almost dropped the egg shells in!” M/n jolted at the cold hands, whining as he cracked the last egg into the bowl.

“So?”

“So you could’ve had shells in your cookies! And you already ate half of my pastries so I need to make more.” M/n huffed, barely able to put and actual bite behind his words as Tom gently began to kiss his jaw.

“Not my fault you make good pastries, I couldn’t help it..” Tom murmured, kissing m/n’s jaw a few times before kissing his cheek then pulling back.

“And besides you don’t need to make me any fatter, the regular cookie batches are enough already.”

“You’re not fat Tom, plus I’d love you anyway. I’d rather have a well fed man than a starving man. ‘Nd I like spoiling you, baking is fun regardless.” Tom hummed at m/n’s words, looking over his shoulder at the cookie dough as m/n mixed it and put it in Saran Wrap before letting go so m/n could carry it over to the fridge.

Tom hummed happily as he watched m/n roll out and flatten the now ready dough, setting out the cookie cutters so Tom could do it. M/n hummed as he watched Tom happily press the metal shapes into the cookies; classic gingerbread men, stars, snowflakes, Christmas trees, and many other shapes. It was nice to see Tom happy over something so simple, but m/n knew Tom would be happier when they were baked and it was time to ice them.

The two men were hosting Christmas like usuals, everyone brought or made different things. It was mostly a small celebration with the band; Gustav, Georg, Tom, Bill, Georg and gustav’s wives, and m/n. They always had Christmas dinner together and Tom always loved showing off and braving about how good m/n’s baking was. Cookies, pies, pastries, homemade bread, homemade rolls, etc.

And 30 minutes later the cookies were baked, laying out on cooling racks along with sugar cookies that now just needed to be iced.

“Tom please don’t get icing everywhere, I love you and all but I hate when the kitchen is sticky right before Christmas.” M/n hummed, giving Tom a soft peck on the lips as Tom let him go so he could go ice the cookies.

And as Tom Iced the cookies m/n cleaned the kitchen, stopping every once in a while to check on Tom or help with something, and it took about an hour for all of the cookies to be iced. Of course tom had made a few inappropriate gingerbread men, giving them boobs or a dick, but m/n could only laugh, seeing a glance of his much younger much more immature husband when they had only been boyfriends all those years ago.

Tom hummed and walked over to m/n, pulling him close and leaning in to press a gentle, slow kiss to his lips, and m/n reciprocated. Tom tasted like gingerbread and apple cider with a hint sugar from the icing which only made m/n love him more.

Life was good around the holidays, especially when they were at home together. Husband and husband.

YAYYYY! New fic for the Tom boys dropped! I’ve been sooo busy these past few weeks, I went and saw the nutcracker and they had a beautiful ballerina from Moscow. It was super cool! I’m also on my period so cramps are kicking my ass but I’m doing good if anyone cares. MERRRY EARLY CHRISTMASS Love you guys!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @billskeis @divinelolita @cherry-rawr @d0wn-in-the-morgue (let me know if you wanna be on my tag list!!)

[20doozers]

★Christmas cookies★

TW: fluff, kissing, m!reader, use of y/n and m/n, making cookies and being ridiculous, some teasing, just sweet fluff, some kissing and teasing, nicknames like baby, etc

A/n: I’m back guys! Well I’m still sorta slow on fics but I’m trying to work on it cuz the holidays and such are so busy.

Tom stood clueless in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the ingredients laid out on the counter as his boyfriend washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

“Uhh.. baby I don’t think I’m equipped with the skill to do this..” Tom sighed, turning to look at m/n as he chuckled and flicked water at him before drying his hands.

“Oh shush, such nonsense isn’t allowed in my kitchen. You’re only here to do the cookie cutters anyway.” M/n remarked, earning a huff from Tom as he walked over and went back to the gingerbread cookies he was making.

“Our kitchen, plus I can make a mean cheesecake.”

“Uh-huh, Tom you do everything but bake.” M/n huffed teasingly, rolling his eyes as Tom came up behind him and hugged him, Tom’s arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. Tom snuck his hands around to m/n’s stomach, pulling his shirt up a tad and sneaking his cold hands under m/n’s shirt.

“Tom! I almost dropped the egg shells in!” M/n jolted at the cold hands, whining as he cracked the last egg into the bowl.

“So?”

“So you could’ve had shells in your cookies! And you already ate half of my pastries so I need to make more.” M/n huffed, barely able to put and actual bite behind his words as Tom gently began to kiss his jaw.

“Not my fault you make good pastries, I couldn’t help it..” Tom murmured, kissing m/n’s jaw a few times before kissing his cheek then pulling back.

“And besides you don’t need to make me any fatter, the regular cookie batches are enough already.”

“You’re not fat Tom, plus I’d love you anyway. I’d rather have a well fed man than a starving man. ‘Nd I like spoiling you, baking is fun regardless.” Tom hummed at m/n’s words, looking over his shoulder at the cookie dough as m/n mixed it and put it in Saran Wrap before letting go so m/n could carry it over to the fridge.

Tom hummed happily as he watched m/n roll out and flatten the now ready dough, setting out the cookie cutters so Tom could do it. M/n hummed as he watched Tom happily press the metal shapes into the cookies; classic gingerbread men, stars, snowflakes, Christmas trees, and many other shapes. It was nice to see Tom happy over something so simple, but m/n knew Tom would be happier when they were baked and it was time to ice them.

The two men were hosting Christmas like usuals, everyone brought or made different things. It was mostly a small celebration with the band; Gustav, Georg, Tom, Bill, Georg and gustav’s wives, and m/n. They always had Christmas dinner together and Tom always loved showing off and braving about how good m/n’s baking was. Cookies, pies, pastries, homemade bread, homemade rolls, etc.

And 30 minutes later the cookies were baked, laying out on cooling racks along with sugar cookies that now just needed to be iced.

“Tom please don’t get icing everywhere, I love you and all but I hate when the kitchen is sticky right before Christmas.” M/n hummed, giving Tom a soft peck on the lips as Tom let him go so he could go ice the cookies.

And as Tom Iced the cookies m/n cleaned the kitchen, stopping every once in a while to check on Tom or help with something, and it took about an hour for all of the cookies to be iced. Of course tom had made a few inappropriate gingerbread men, giving them boobs or a dick, but m/n could only laugh, seeing a glance of his much younger much more immature husband when they had only been boyfriends all those years ago.

Tom hummed and walked over to m/n, pulling him close and leaning in to press a gentle, slow kiss to his lips, and m/n reciprocated. Tom tasted like gingerbread and apple cider with a hint sugar from the icing which only made m/n love him more.

Life was good around the holidays, especially when they were at home together. Husband and husband.

YAYYYY! New fic for the Tom boys dropped! I’ve been sooo busy these past few weeks, I went and saw the nutcracker and they had a beautiful ballerina from Moscow. It was super cool! I’m also on my period so cramps are kicking my ass but I’m doing good if anyone cares. MERRRY EARLY CHRISTMASS Love you guys!

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @billskeis @divinelolita @cherry-rawr @d0wn-in-the-morgue (let me know if you wanna be on my tag list!!)

[20doozers]

(Original and translated)

This is so insane, prayers/condolences for the affected in Magdeburg.

For those who don’t know there was a car that drove into a Christmas market in Magdeburg and hurt about 68 and killed 2 and about 15 in a critical state from what I’ve heard so far. Truly a terrible thing to happen so close to the holidays.

Not 100% sure on whether Gustav was there at the time or not but regardless of being worried for him and his family there were lots affected.