#i am so touch starved

[skrimblo]

Me and the bad bitch i pulled by [spoilers]

Happy valentines

[aroacearchangel]

hey who wants to hold hands and play with my hair and be so gentle with me i might shatter into a million pieces

[pullhisteeth]

in which Eddie's love languages are quality time and acts of service - and you're a commitmentphobe

something small that came to mind the other day (I definitely do not do the annoying thing of never doing the things I commit to, no, definitely not). it's a lil bit christmassy so sorry about that lol. college!au, gn!reader, etc etc. fluff. 1.4k.

-

so you do this thing which you are convinced pisses all your friends off, where you declare that you're going to do something - wash the dishes, finally fold your laundry, finish a book, braid your hair, go to the gym, bake something - and then never do it. it happens far too often and you are so sure it drives them mad, Nance and Robin surely rolling their eyes at one another when you once again flop down on the couch and resolve that today will be the day that you repot the plants in your dorm room.

and it does. they're your friends, but friends can be irritating despite how much we love them regardless, and it's maybe one of your bigger flaws.

they groan about it between themselves sometimes, the same way you do with Robin when Nancy ditches girls night to finish another piece for your college newspaper, or the way you do with Steve when you catch Robin in another conversation with the cute girl behind the counter at the campus café who she still hasn't asked out. every single time, she joins the two of you with that look on her face that says, not this time, folks, sorry.

they often brush off your declarations of intent, humming without paying much interest, and you know it, of course. you also know they're your friends, so it's their job to put up with this.

but then there's Eddie. Eddie is a new friend, as of the months before summer break, though his presence at nights out or evenings in with the whole gang is so concrete he may as well have been here the whole time.

Eddie is also incredibly pretty. he throws you off guard often with his throwaway compliments ("you look great tonight, sugar") and those hands he fails to keep to himself. they land on the small of your back sometimes when you're leaving the bar. other times his knee nudges yours when you're sat beside each other during movie night. and, worst of all, sometimes his fingers brush yours as you walk, and it takes everything in you not to grab hold and never let go.

one evening, you've come home from class and changed into pyjamas and you're padding sullenly through the apartment you share with Nancy and Robin. like clockwork, you throw yourself onto the empty couch and say: "tomorrow I'm gonna go on a long walk."

"right," you hear Robin mutter from where she's sat on the other couch, her eyes trained on the complicated looking crochet project in her lap. Nancy's out but Steve and Eddie are sat at your dinner table - they may as well live here, you sometimes think - working on assignments.

"I'll come with you," Eddie says.

it surprises you; normally the only acknowledgement of these whims you ever get are the uninterested noises from Robin or Nancy.

"you will?" you return, turning your head to look away from the ceiling and over at Eddie.

"sure," he says, still looking at the assignment on the table in front of him. he's holding his forehead, pinching it in concentration. he looks pretty in the ebbing sunlight, as usual.

"sweet," you mutter back.

and he does. he sticks to his word, turning up sometime mid-morning the next day with a thick coat on and two coffees in takeaway cups. you wander with him around the park near campus and try your hardest to keep your expectations low.

he's a friend. it's not a date.

the following week you're back on the couch, watching a rerun of Golden Girls, and you let your eyes wander around the room, paying little attention to the television. you stare up at the plants hanging from the top of the cabinet by the door, and the ones on the windowsill.

"I'm gonna do it," you say. "I'm gonna repot them."

"mm-hmm."

Nancy's at the dinner table, scribbling away on various pieces of paper. she gives you the usual hum of okay, sure, yeah without looking up at you.

"need a hand?" Eddie asks. he's on the other couch, halfway through a joint.

you turn over onto your side to look at him.

"yeah, okay. wanna go to the garden centre?"

"only if we can look at the fish."

"obviously."

this cycle continues. every few days, your dramatic commitment to a new thing will go unnoticed by your seasoned friends, but Eddie won't let whatever it is go. when you tell them you're going to go to the beach, for some fresh air, he offers to drive you there. when you declare that you're going to bake them some bread, and finally learn how to kneed, he brings you bread flour and promises he'll bake weed brownies with you one day. and when you decide that today is the day that you'll take your resumé to the cafe round the corner, he looks it over with you and walks you over. I could do with a coffee, he tells you.

you get the job, starting a week later. you're working 3 shifts a week between classes and sometimes closings shifts roll into the evenings, when you'd usually be doing nothing in your little living room with your friends. on these nights, when it's dark before you finish, Eddie is always stood beside the back door as you leave. the first time it happened he said he'd been on his way home from class and had spotted you cleaning up inside so thought he'd wait for you, but then it happened two days later, when you know he doesn't have any afternoon classes. and so after every late shift you emerge from the back door to find him smudging out a cigarette with his shoe, and he looks up at you and smiles, and you walk with him two blocks back to your apartment.

after a month or two, you're on another close. it's December and you're on your last shift before you hitch a ride back to Hawkins.

"he's out there again," your boss mutters as he comes in from emptying the trash.

"hmm?"

"your boyfriend. does he have to smoke out there?"

you feel yourself warm, the bloom of embarrassment and something more under your skin.

"he's not my boyfriend. I'll ask him to stop smoking, though."

"some friend you got then, walkin' you home every night."

you don't respond, bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. you speed through everything else on the list and grab your jacket and bag when your boss waves you off with a half-hearted happy holidays, and skip a little too quick out the fire door behind the kitchen.

sure enough, here he is, though tonight feels different. you quickly spot him smudging the cigarette out, but as your eyes drift back up they land on something colourful in his hand.

he looks up when he hears the door but he doesn't smile like usual; instead it's small, laced with apprehension. but it blossoms when you grin at him, so wide your eyes nearly close.

"good shift?" he asks.

"hm, it was okay. what've you got?"

you step closer and look down to see that it's a pretty bunch of flowers.

"uh, I... if I don't do this now, I owe Steve fifty bucks."

you look up at him, confused. "what?"

"wanna go get dinner?"

the bliss that swells inside your chest feels like enough to lift you off your feet. you grin again, and he smiles back.

"Eddie Munson, are you taking me on a date?"

he looks down at his feet, bashfully kicking the stub of his cigarette with one shoe.

"I mean, I thought the walks home and everythin' were obvious enough, but..."

you giggle at him, thinking about all the evenings he'd drop you home without more than a hug goodbye, leaving you kicking yourself for thinking this could be anything more than good friends.

"my fault," you say. "wanted to say something, but I'm not good at committing to stuff."

"nah," he says, looking up at you again. "you just needed a hand gettin' it done."

lifting the flowers, he holds them out for you to take. as you do, he takes your bag and, before you can protest, slings it over his own shoulder. they're pretty, deep reds and purples.

"these are beautiful, Eddie."

he smiles back at you and brings his hand to the small of your back, as always, as you leave.

walking down the street, past closed-up shops in the cold, your hands brush his as he gets closer and closer. you seize the opportunity, finally committing to something, and wind your fingers between his.

[chaoticillness]

“Is that my shirt?”

»»————-　🎞　————-««

Featuring: Shikanoin Heizou, Kamisato Ayato, and Zhongli

Warnings: None! Ayato favouritism

Director’s Cut: this got so sappy at the end… im sorry it’s ten pm at night and im touch starved. Anyway, this is the piece I promised for the sweet n’ spice collab by @bluexiao and @anantaru! enjoy!

»»————-　🎞　————-««

Shikanoin Heizou

Ah, dreaded early mornings. No time for anything fun! Rushed breakfasts, running like a maniac around the house, frantically rummaging through your closet to find that perfect outfit. Which was exactly what you were doing this “fine” sunny morning. And coincidentally, you may have grabbed someone other than you’s white tank top. 

“Is that my shirt?”

“It’s a generic item! I’ve always had this tank top, what are you talking about?”

“No, [Name], you haven’t. I am the most prestigious detective in Inazuma, I would think I can recognize my own shirt when I see it.”

Your eyes flit back and forth, you’re already late for work and goodness, you can’t change now. So you pull the one thing that will shut him up. A peck on the lips and you’re out the door before he can say a word.

Because unfortunately, Shikanoin Heizou (also known as your darling boyfriend) is always right.

Kamisato Ayato

In your seven months of dating the one and only Kamisato Ayato, despite your crafty attempts and sneaky escapes, you have not managed to get into his closet.

You love your boyfriend, you do, but you need to know where he pulls those boba teas out of! And where else to find the truth than his collection of kimonos that probably cost more than your life. So while Ayato’s in his office, you distract Thoma with some excuse about the sorry state of the gardens and tiptoe into the Yashiro Commissioner’s quarters. 

Wow, these are… so fancy. And he doesn’t even use them! I’m gonna start using them if he isn’t, damn.

Eyes locked on your target, you swiftly glide across the floor and slide open the door to the forbidden closet. 

Unfortunately, you have the attention span of a moth.

Excitedly trying on the kimonos, you go through a few before you hear some footsteps. It’s probably Thoma doing the laundry, right? …Right? Despite this, you quickly pull yourself out of the kimono you’re currently trying on and put everything back with the utmost care to make sure you were never there. But you were just a little too late. 

“Darling, is that my shirt?”

Shit.

“Oh, it’s alright. You do look absolutely ravishing in it.”

Zhongli

You missed him. A lot.

So what better to do than raid his closet?

Rows of the same suitcoat await you when you swing open the doors. Does he have a single other piece of clothing? It’s debatable. But all of them smelled like him, and that’s good enough for you.

Curling up in the surprisingly soft brown coat, you fall asleep in the comfortable warmth of the bed and the smell of your lover.

When he comes back in the dead of the night, exhausted, he doesn’t even notice before falling into the cradle of sleep. But when the morning sun shines through the windows, he realizes you’re wearing a rather familiar shirt.

Archons, he loves you.

»»————-　🎞　————-««

[nilla-bear]

POV: I’m having a mental breakdown in my bedroom and praying to God to send me a sad, pathetic, blood hungry, 6’4 priest who loves me.

[uglypastels]

having someone take the seat next to you and immediately wrap their arm around you or put it behind your back. holding someone's hand as you walk on the street with a little swing in it. having someone to play with your hair mindlessly because they can and it gives you butterflies. rubbing their thumb over your hand. cuddling up under a blanket to watch a movie. comparing hand sizes and hugs and forehead kisses and spooning and and nose touches and... when is it finally my turn

[dysfunctional-transmlm]

yall ever wanted to hug a boy so bad that you just *hugs air*

[realmermaid333]

Sometimes being autistic kinda sucks because I am ahead of my peers in the ways they are behind, and I am behind my peers in the ways they are ahead.

Most people my age are pro-drivers with job experience, dating experience, are already in college, and have larger friend groups. I am behind on these things.

But I have always been very mature and logical for my age. While also being "socially off putting" (i put it in quotes because really it's just that lots of neurotypical ppl are judgmental and kinda boring I'm sorry. I'm only talking about the mean ones). I struggle to make friends my age because we tend to not line up when it comes to emotional maturity. But I do get along with people near their mid 20s-ish. But because unemployed for time being, I am not where the mid-20s homies are

So add all of that together and you get;

Has one irl friend 💔

[ricosbrainrot]

is it really a dinluke fanfiction if it doesn’t include din tenderly cupping luke’s face and secretly having the most soft expression underneath his helmet?

[spooky-b1tch]

i think i’m gonna die from lack of physical affection

[aphrodisiashana]

*rattles the bars of my enclosure* i want cuddles and kisses and to sit in someone's lap with my face in their neck and nap there

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

Is That My Hoodie? (Frank Iero x reader)

Summary: Frank comes home from tour a day early to surprise his partner - and finds something he thought he’d lost during his travels. 

Word count: 1215

Warnings: none (unless it being sickeningly cute warrants a warning) 

A/N: Our dear reader definitely feels like they’re more on the submissive side here... but maybe that’s just because I really needed a cuddle while I was writing. Also, the one potentially gendered term in here is ‘mommy’ - but I am both a pretty boy and a plant mom (albeit a terrible one because they keep dying) so I decree that it’s a gender neutral term 😌

Hauling the last of his guitar cases through the front door, Frank propped it against the wall with the others and took a moment to just enjoy being back in his own home. Of course he loved being on tour with his best friends - it just wasn’t as much fun when his fiancé couldn’t join him. The band had been out adventuring around as many states as they could get to in the last three months, and (y/n) had been stuck at work for most of it. They’d made it to both LA shows near the start of the tour, but hadn’t been able to get the time off to come along for any extended period of time. 

So for three months, the two of them had had to cope with nightly video calls when the time difference and work commitments allowed it, constant texting, and (y/n) sending photos and videos of the dogs. Lois and Soup seemed to be missing him just as much as he missed them. It was strange, going from being practically glued to each other every moment they were together to only seeing each other through a screen every now and then. 

It was almost 1am, and the house felt a little too quiet as he walked through to the kitchen. (y/n) was definitely a night owl, and they had once tearfully confessed that they didn’t like it when he wasn’t there because they found it hard to sleep without him beside them. Usually at this time, they’d be going through the kitchen cupboards for a snack, or cosied up with a book on the cushion in the big bay window with some music on. But he couldn’t hear anything: no footsteps, no crunching, no baby-talking to the dogs. He hadn’t told them he was coming home - they were under the impression that his flight was going to land early tomorrow afternoon - so it wasn’t like he’d expected a big welcome at the front door. But he’d at least thought they would have come running when they’d heard the door open. 

“(y/n)? Angel, I’m home.” 

Nothing. He stopped to check his phone, suddenly worried that he’d misread their work rota and had come home while they were working a night shift. But the schedule they’d sent him made it look like they were off for the next three days. So why did the house feel so empty? 

When he got into the kitchen he was ambushed by the dogs, who were so delighted to see him that they knocked him off his feet. He grinned, scratching their heads and letting them lick his face and hands. 

“Hi, darlings. I know, I know! Daddy’s home, huh? Yeah, I’ve missed you too. Hey, hey, Lois. You know where your mommy is, huh? Are they here? Or are they out having fun without us?” 

Soup barked and skittered towards the living room, pausing at the doorway and looking back at Frank as if to say, ‘well, are you coming or not?’ He got to his feet and followed, stopping with a soft smile on his face as he took in the scene before him. He should’ve known. 

(y/n) was curled up on the couch with headphones in, music playing loud enough that he could hear it faintly even from a few feet away, fast asleep. The TV was showing a re-run of a crime documentary they’d watched together before he left, and there was a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. He moved to crouch beside them, gently taking one of the headphones out and bringing it up to his own ear, stifling a laugh as he realised what they were listening to. 

“Joyriding, huh? You miss me enough to wanna listen to my songs on repeat?” 

They stirred a little, mumbling softly. “I always miss you when you’re not here.” 

“Good thing I’m back, then.” He stroked the side of their face, brushing back the hair that had fallen across it. Their eyes flickered open, bleary with sleep for a moment before registering who was sat in front of them. They jolted upright, very nearly smacking their heads together as they flung their arms around him. 

“Frank, you’re really home! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have tried harder to stay awake!” 

He squeezed them tight, rubbing their back and burying his nose in their hair, letting the familiar scent of their shampoo flood his brain. “Wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well it sure as hell worked.” They sat back, making a big show of rubbing the sleep from their eyes to disguise the happy tears that had started to fall. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you too angel.” Leaning in to kiss their forehead, he noticed something - and a knowing glint appeared in his eyes. “Is that my hoodie?” 

(y/n)’s cheeks burned as they glanced down at the soft black hoodie. It was a little too big, so their hands were almost swallowed by the sleeves and it covered most of their thighs, leaving just a sliver of their sleep shorts on display. On the front was a very familiar faded ribcage print, and the arms were decorated with matching bones. “Maybe.” 

“See, I wondered where that had gone. I could’ve sworn I’d packed it to go on tour with me. I thought for a while that I’d left it in one of the venues by accident.” He grinned as their blush deepened further. 

“I may or may not have asked one of the crew to steal it back for me.” 

“You know, you could’ve just asked me - I would’ve let you have it.” 

“Yeah, but it’s your favourite one.” 

“And you look so fuckin pretty wearing it.” Moving to join them on the couch, he pulled them into his lap, a hand wandering beneath the hoodie to rest on their bare waist. “Way better than I do.” 

Snuggling against him, (y/n) rolled her eyes. “That’s not even possible, seeing as you’re the prettiest person ever.” 

“Hmm... second prettiest, I’d say. You take the top spot, no contest.” 

“Liar.” 

“I speak only the truth. And you know that if you asked me for the moon on a plate, I’d do my damn best to get it. Anything for you.” Kissing the top of their head, he felt his heart sing as they snuggled even closer. He really didn’t feel complete without them in his arms. The two of them sat there for a little while, half watching the documentary and mostly just enjoying being back in each other’s company. Frank felt (y/n)’s breathing slow down a little, and he nudged them softly. 

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me here. We can go to bed, you’ll be way comfier up there.” 

“Don’t wanna move.” 

“Your joints will be really stiff in the morning if you sleep here.” 

“Don’t care.” They leant up and kissed him, effectively ending the conversation. 

He smiled into the kiss, his free hand coming up to cup their jaw and hold them even closer, loving the little whine that escaped as some of their hair tangled around his fingers. 

Oh yes. It was good to be home.

[pinkboxess]

I would love to be cuddled to sleep by ted 😫😫😫

ooOOOOOOH you don't even know how badly I also want that. Being cuddled to sleep sounds like the best thing ever. I just really want him to be beside me and rub my back and play with my hair. Ugh my heart aches.

Another option is lying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and feeling his breathing like you're a weighted blanket on top of him. And then you could probably still get the back rubs too.

[das-jaim3]

Jaime is tired.

Jaime is in need of a hug, cuddles and/or tea as well as smooches over his face while being praised for working so hard.

Jaime worked a short but stressful shift at a restaurant and his feet hurt. Jaime deserves cuddles and smooches.

[h0ney-pot]

[taggtheotter]

Not to be pathetic and sad on main but I would kill to not be touch starved anymore