#for mozz<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pearlypairings]

Put the icing DOWN would be so fun!! - Mozz 😘

eddie x chrissy || enemies (troll&blogger) to lovers, comment section banter || visual edit (my first one ever! i'm scared😅)

A/N: our beautiful anon Mozz, this is my humble attempt to bring your prompt and the fic club ideas closer to life. thank you for this opportunity to be ridiculous! I have so many hcs about this now lmao

yesterday's prompt

scroll, scroll, scrolling down to the comments.....

:( the title made him think she got too stoned on her birthday and got really excited, only to be disappointed by the very regular-shmegular recipe details (yes he surfs random food blogs at 3am when he's very high). trolling the post was his sweet revenge for the disappointment until he realized she had baked her own birthday cake, which is very much a cardinal sin in his book~

[wormfunkie]

splatoon yuri be upon thee

[foalishly]

hiiiiii everyone i’m a lil drunk how’s everyone doing today

[cheesy-clown]

Morally I can blame my hormones /my period for me getting emotional over Dave right?

The fact he keeps kicking my fucking ass bro 💥

[mycenaae]

hey, don't cry. white beans with tomato paste and garlic with cheese on top. and toasted bread, even.

[fantabulisticity]

I should get up and eat something. I didn't have a real dinner last night bc I was going to have dinner at Karaoke but the bar was understaffed so they closed part of the kitchen early and were only serving fried food. And I'm not super fond of chicken strips and finger steaks, which are the closest to a meal in that section, so I got cheese curds. Which, like, is NOT a full meal. And then I had a bunch of whiskey and cranberry juice, and when I got home I drank like 6 oz of milk to tide me over to morning. Luckily I had a really big brunch yesterday, so that helps, but I still didn't really have dinner. So I should get up and eat breakfast now. My body NEEDS to consume something. But my bed is so comfy and warm, and I am so sleepy and cozy.

[nishibai]

ive never been to chilis

i will get you something from there and ship it to you.

[dont-ask-just-spend]

omg buddy do you have an eating disorder... 😭

(both to aven and to mod because 😬 bro u good?)

Nuh uh

[imreszekeres]

Valid to not like Pizza but just funny as Pizza Steve the character always makes me think of you

My best friend is literally the Pizza Steve Official so thats valid! I am a pretty cool slice myself 😎 hehehe

[thehoneycrypt]

⋆˚꩜｡ angel on your doorstep - the hanks x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: the shock of your and the Hanks' lives appears one late night, changing your lives for the better

a/n: just a heads up! in the second half, it's gonna be hank 5 centric with a suggestive ending! nonetheless, this fic has you and the hanks as one big polycule <3

The doorbell rings during your horror movie marathon with the Hanks, inciting a high-pitched shriek from Hank 3. You stifle back a snort and pause the film while the other Hanks laugh at his terror. Hank 3 puffs out his chest and pouts, “C’mon, homies! It was freaking scary!”

“It’s alright, Blue,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his temple. A giddy smile forms on Hank 3 at his nickname and smooch, “Lemme go get the door, it’s probably the pizza guy,” you announce, rising from your spot on the couch

“Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” Hank 4 cheers.

“And mozzarella sticks!” Hank 2 adds on, “Can’t forget about the mozz, bro!”

“And the soda!” Hank 1 grins, “We definitely need some sugar after yesterday’s wicked sez of Hank gliding.”

You nod at your boyfriends’ response and make a beeline for the door, not wanting to keep the delivery man waiting. Unlocking the door, you open it up and begin your greeting, “Hey there, thanks for-”

No pizza guy or anyone is at the doorstep. You frown and turn on your heel to go back inside, only to abruptly stop when you hear a meek cry.

“Oh my fucking God,” your jaw hangs slack while you lower yourself towards the ground. Inside a woven bassinet, a little baby comfortably wrapped in a cotton blanket lays inside. A folded paper is set on top of the blanket. Panic sets in, as you grab the note and read it.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I had no other options. Her name is Ellie, short for Eleanor. Please, take care of her in the way I couldn’t.

The baby— Ellie— lets out another cry before her eyes flutter shut. Carefully, you lift the bassinet up by the handle and carry her inside.

“Hey, babe, everything okay?” Hank 5 peeks in from behind the wall. You turn around and lock eyes with your boyfriend, “Five…” he lowers his gaze to the bassinet, eyes wide and color draining from his face, “Is that- Is that-” he lets out a laugh of disbelief, unable to speak.

“I, uh,” your grip on the bassinet tightens, “We need to talk.”

Hank 5 nods and you head inside the living room where the other Hanks are chatting up a storm about the movie.

“Bros, I’m like… 99% sure that the killer is the creepy guy in red from the start,” Hank 2 mutters, stroking his chin pensively.

“Nah, my money’s on Old Man Jenkins!” Hank 4 bets to the others.”

“Hank 4, that was from the other movie,” Hank 1 shakes his head, “Besides, fam, you got no money to bet!”

“Oh,” the blond frowns, “You right, my b, homie.”

Hank 3 is about to chime in when he notices you and Hank 5, “Bros!” he offers you both a smile, “Got the goods?”

“Uh, well,” Hank 5 swallows hard and points to the bassinet, “It ain’t pizza.”

You place the bassinet on the couch and with all the delicateness you could muster, you lift the sleeping baby up and cradle her in your arms, “She was left on the doorstep.”

All the Hanks crowd around you, gawking in awe at the bundled of joy. Hank 5’s eyes twinkle and a soft smile rests on his face, “So small,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, “What- What are we gonna do?” the baby stirs in your arms and sighs, nuzzling closer to your chest.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hank 3 elbows Hank 5, “This is Hank 5’s dream and it just came true, bro-babe!”

Ellie’s eyes snap open at the redhead’s loud voice and whimpers before breaking out in a violent cry. You place the infant upright and against your chest, rocking side to side. Hank 5 softens at the scene and aids you, rubbing Ellie’s back while you rock her.

“Don’t be so loud, dawg,” states Hank 1 with a disapproving shake of the head, “Little homie’s trying to sleep.”

Meanwhile, Hank 2 tilts his head at you, “What are we gonna do, house-babe?” his voice trembles just a bit, but fear is evident in his eyes.

You look at Hank 5, then the baby, and then at the other Hanks. An unfamiliar silence falls upon the room.

“Can we keep it?” Hank 4 is the first to speak up, extending a finger out to Ellie. Now calm and resting against your arms, she reaches out and grasps it with her tiny hand.

“It’s not an ‘it’, Hank 4,” the brunet Hank scolds his blond counterpart in a hushed tone, “It’s a girl.”

“A little dudette,” Hank 3 stands next to Hank 4 and in front of you, stroking his thumb against Ellie’s cheek, “Wicked.”

“Then I guess,” you exhale, holding Ellie close. Time seems to slow down, as you and the Hanks admire the baby, an insane bombshell on all of your lives, “We’re parents now.”

The spare room in your and the Hanks’ shared house is quickly converted into a nursery, painted by Hanks 2, 4, and 5 with furniture assembled by Hanks 1 and 3. The walls are covered with various sports decals, as well as the crib and changing table; hell, even your baby’s clothes are sports-themed with football-patterned onesies and "Future Goalie" t-shirts.

It's late in the night when you tend to a fussy Ellie, laying her against your chest and rubbing her back while you rocked the chair. You and the Hanks would alter nights for Ellie duty with rotating Sundays.

A soft knock on the nursery door alerts you. Gently, you return a sleeping Ellie to her crib and plant a kiss on her forehead before opening the door. On the other side, Hank 5 stands before you in his white undershirt and fleece green bottoms, "Hey there, beautiful."

"Hey there, handsome," you step aside and let Hank 5 into the nursery. He approaches the crib and stands there silently, his eyes fixated on the snoozing baby. You join his side and whisper, "Missed the baby?"

"You know it," he softly laughs. There's a certain glow to the green Hank, one that radiates warmth and unconditional love. He really was meant to be a father, you smile knowingly to yourself.

"Isn't it kinda crazy that she looks like us?" your ears perk up at Hank 5's question. As Ellie grew into her features, the other Hanks would comment on how she looked like a mini Hank 5 but with your eyes, what were the odds of that being the case?

"Maybe, it's a sign," you suggest.

"A sign?" Hank 5 parrots back, his gaze now on you.

"Yeah," you take his hand in yours and interlock your fingers together, "A sign that this was meant to be, that you were meant to be a dad."

"And that you were meant to be a parent," he pulls you into an embrace, swaying you side to side while he continues to speak, "My dream came true..."

"It did," you reply, "But I have a feeling there's a but in that."

Hank 5's chest vibrates with quiet laughter, "You know me too well, baby," he releases you from the hug, but remains holding your hand, "I think-" he hesitates, "I wanna give her a sibling. I want for her to have what I have with the other Hanks."

"I think that's a lovely idea," you squeeze Hank 5's hand tight.

He melts into a puddle at your confirmation, tear-eyed and smiling ear to ear, "Does that mean...?"

You tug on his hand and pull him close, only lips apart. With your free hand, you guide downwards and rest it against your clothed pelvis.

"Let's make another."

[ysochonky]

Man I love the this girl. I could watch her eat for days .

3/4 of a Chicago style pizza. 8 mozz sticks. A half loaf of garlic bread. A large tin tray of lasagna and half a 2 liter of coke. 👀

…… 2.5 hours later (McDonald’s time)

[sosquaresowhat]

I'm so desperately sad that the nearest sheetz to me is 800 miles away.

LIKE YES EVERYTHING IS FUCKED EVERYBODY SUCKS

BUT TOTS ARE BACK AT SHEETZ

[wormfunkie]

☆ red devil rejects ☆

ambushing grizz co workers and stealing their shit 👍because they can ✨

[sapphicandgraphic]

The Girl Next Door

Synopsis: A new neighbor turns Melissa’s world upside down.

Chapter: 2/10 (The Peace Offering)

Series Warnings: Slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, protective Melissa, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Parental death mentioned, casual sex mentioned, more adorable banter

_______________________________________________________

Chapter 2

You woke up well after midday with a dull headache and a very dry mouth. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why you weren’t in bed. Then you remembered you didn’t have a bed yet. Which explained why you were still sprawled on the sofa, an open pizza box on the floor beside you. You looked down at the sad graveyard of stale crusts and grease stains, contemplating your options.

Boone had pinned a sticky-note to your chest: Shift starts at 7:00, don’t be late!

You crumpled the paper up and dragged yourself into a sitting position. First order of business was to chug some water, hop in a steaming shower, and put some clean clothes on. By the time you were dressed and out the door, it was almost 3:30.

Crossing the street, you set out for Angelo’s on Arch. Half an hour later, you had a massive Italian sub in one hand and a bag full of salty snacks in the other. You were climbing the stairs to your place when you ran into the redhead on the landing.

“Hey,” she said dryly. “She lives.”

“Barely,” you yawned.

Looking at the pinched expression on your face, Melissa felt a mild pang of sympathy. “What’s a matter, sweetheart? Somebody didn’t get their beauty sleep?”

Privately, Melissa thought it oughta be criminal to look as good as you did, considering the night you’d had. Your hair was windswept, your cheeks pinked softly by the chill outside. You might have just stepped out of a photoshoot.

“Nothing Angelo can’t fix,” you said bravely, holding the massive sandwich aloft. Then on a whim, you added, “Any interest in going halfsies with me? Consider it a peace offering for last night.”

“You know Angelo’s?” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your order?”

“Chicken cutlet, fresh mozz, parm, basil—“

“You Italian?” she interrupted, suspicion clear in her face.

“No,” you grinned. “Just dated my fair share.”

Melissa tilted her head to the side, considering. She didn’t usually let her guard down with strangers, but there was something a little irresistible about your sleepy smile, your slouchy confidence. Plus, you weren’t technically a stranger anymore. And if you were going to be neighbors, she figured forming an alliance might be smart.

“Come on in, then.”

Her apartment had a layout like yours, but that was where the similarities ended. You felt a ripple of shame, remembering the absolute disaster zone waiting for you across the hall. Her home was cozy and warm, with soft lighting and comfy furniture. You found yourself being drawn in, tension easing out of your sore neck and shoulders.

“I never got your name,” you said, watching as she moved through the room on auto-pilot. She tossed her keys on the coffee table and disappeared around a corner, depositing her bags in the closet.

“Melissa,” she called, voice slightly muffled as she peeled her sweater off and tossed it on the bed.

You snuck a peek at the framed photos on her wall, looking for signs of a husband or boyfriend, lingering on a picture of her outside a red brick building with a mural. Her smile was radiant and she was surrounded by little kids.

“Oh, you’re a teacher,” you laughed. “That explains my desire to misbehave whenever you’re around.”

She came back in the room wearing a low-cut tee. Your eyes flickered down to the swell of her tits, the perfect valley of her cleavage where several gold necklaces caught the light and glimmered like bait on a fishing line. She quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Ya got a problem with authority, hon?’

“Among other things,” you said, trying to ignore the butterflies that flooded your stomach as she stalked toward you.

“So it’s my fault you’re a brat?”

She snatched the bags from you and headed into the kitchen, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

“What grade do you teach?” you asked, hoping the slight tremor in your voice wasn’t noticeable. Despite your drunken opener last night, it had been a while since you really flirted with anyone as hot as Melissa. Your game was extremely rusty.

“Second.”

You perched on a barstool at the counter, watching her work. Grabbing a knife, she sliced cleanly through the paper and set each sandwich half on a plate.

“Do you —“

“Uh-uh,” she said, holding up the knife to interrupt you. “My turn.”

She opened the fridge, retrieved a jar of pickles, and slid two spears onto the plates. “Why do your friends call you Hotshot?”

The blush returned to your face. That stupid nickname.

“I’m a paramedic,” you said. “When I was still a rookie, I revived a guy who OD’d on a hotshot—meth laced with fentanyl.”

“Jesus,” Melissa muttered.

“This was before Narcan, everyone thought he was a goner,” you explained. “I did CPR for 9 straight minutes, brought him back to life.”

You took the first bite of your sandwich and moaned. The sound was obscene and Melissa closed her eyes briefly, horrified to find a flush working its way up her neck.

“You always this loud?” she demanded, hoping to distract herself from the sight of your lips, slick with oil, and the purr of pleasure dancing around your soft pallete. Unfortunately, the way she phrased the question did nothing to cut the tension.

“Never had any complaints,” you said, batting your eyelashes.

“You know what I mean.” The edges of her mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile. “Are you always so loud when you eat?”

You waggled your finger at her playfully. “Not so fast,” you said. “According to your rules, it’s my turn to ask a question now.”

“Fine,” Melissa growled. “Just take smaller bites, I don’t wanna have to give you the Heimlich. Marone!”

You wasted no time. “You single?”

The redhead faltered, a disquieted look muting the smile that had been working its way across her face. “Yeah,” she said. “You?”

“Very,” you said.

“What about that guy who answered your door last night?”

“Who, Boone?” You took a bite of pickle, waving the spear in a dismissive gesture. “He’s just a friend.”

Melissa looked skeptical. “Pretty cute friend.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Not really my type.”

She watched as you shoveled more food into your mouth, fighting a smile. Despite what she said, Melissa liked a girl who could eat. And you clearly relished the flavors, eyes closed in satisfaction as you chewed each bite.

“Why’d ya go AWOL?”

You licked some sauce off your finger. “Hmm?”

“Last night, you said you went AWOL.” She opened two sodas and slid one across the counter toward you.

“Oh, that,” you said, debating how to respond. “My dad died right after I graduated college.”

The words even took you by surprise. You didn’t usually talk about him, much less with perfect strangers. The air seemed to calcify, the way it always did when grief entered the room. Melissa waited patiently, not rushing to fill the silence.

“It was…sudden. One second he was walking around complaining about the lawnmower, the next we were picking out a casket.”

Melissa made a small hum of sympathy.

“And then my family kind of imploded,” you continued, seemingly unable to stop spilling your guts to this woman. “He was the one that kept us all…” you trailed off, taking a shaky breath.

Melissa reached toward you gently, brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You don’t gotta explain,” she said softly.

You nodded, taking another bite of your sandwich. “Anyway, I stuck around for the funeral, then I ran off and joined the Peace Corps. Haven’t been back in a few years.”

“Peace Corps?” Melissa asked, genuinely curious. “What kind of work did you do?”

“Community health projects mostly. Administered vaccines to kids, worked on a water sanitation project.” You crumpled up the parchment paper from your demolished sammie and tossed it in the trash can across the room.

“Wow,” Melissa said, feeling a little ashamed that she had initially written you off. “I’m impressed.”

“It wasn’t all halos and angel wings,” you said with a naughty smile. “In my spare time I traveled and partied and had lots of casual sex.”

Melissa snorted, and you realized how much you liked making her laugh. She popped a potato chip into her mouth, and you realized how much you liked being the one to bring her food. She licked her lips, and you realized how much you wanted to taste them. Uh-oh.

The redhead looked up to find you watching her, and her eyes narrowed. “What?” she asked gruffly.

“Sorry,” you said, praying your thoughts weren’t written plain as day on your face. “Just zoned out for a second.”

She regarded you with her usual suspicion, but then nodded. “Food coma.”

You laughed. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

You chatted for a little while longer, Melissa giving you the skinny on the neighbors down the hall, the building management, the super. When you checked your watch and realized what time it was, you stood up.

“I guess I should get going,” you said, stretching. Yep, sleeping on the sofa had been a mistake. “Gotta try and clean up the mess before my shift starts.”

Melissa’s eyes darted down to the slip of skin that appeared as you reached overhead, your shirt hiking up far enough to expose the delicate jut of your hip bones.

“Oh,” the redhead said, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “You workin’ nights?”

“For now,” you nodded. “My old boss agreed to give me my job back, but I still gotta eat shit for a little while.”

Melissa followed you to the door.

“Be careful out there,” she said suddenly. You turned around on the threshold, smirking.

“Graveyard shift in downtown Philly,” you said, clapping your hands and rubbing them together. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’m serious, kid. City’s changed a lot in the last few years. Watch your six.”

Your roguish smile transformed into something soft, almost tender.

“What?” Melissa grumbled.

“Nothing,” you said. “It’s just, I knew you liked me.”

With a little mischievous wave, you disappeared into the hallway. Melissa frowned, closing the door with a vague sense of unease.

“Don’t get attached, Schemmenti,” she muttered, wandering back into the kitchen to clean up. Unfortunately, whether she wanted to admit it or not, that particular ship had already sailed.

Chapter 3

[angelicguy]

the side effects of sonic mozz sticks have been haunting me for 3 days and 3 nights constant dizziness bigotry from me and i have to wear gloves when touching any solid surface

[cloverr-overr]

some of my fav artfight attacks i’ve done so far :D

i’ve gotten 28 submitted (woah) and i’m hoping to get even more out in the final stretch of july :3 (u should totally follow me on artfight… cloverroverr…)

ocs belong to (in order): @mozz-bean , pomallii [on af] , @painteblue , @cybermellon , @starbunbunnie , @the-sleepiest-salami