#in which squishy is insecure and stupid

[punk-in-docs]

🕷 Don’t Need Telling Twice 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.4k words

Summary: Movie Night at Eddie’s place. All the little things that sneak into the cracks in between new love and affection. So I was intending to get a lot filthier with this but somehow it turned out sweet enough to rot your teeth- Eddie being insecure. Wayne being parental, Pencils being nervous. Let’s see how they iron it out man. (It’s really just me waffling about insight into these two lovebirds)

Saturday morning in your scruffy yet clean kitchen. Stereo cranked high. Melded into your happy place.

The bright slip and drip of the opening guitar licks to ‘Should I stay or should I go.’ Joe’s condescending spitting voice begins. You twirl around with the greased baking sheets in hand.

The kitchen is warm, it’s got this odd glow about it, from the slanted sun gushing in through the cream drapes that have yellow flowers on them. The shabby wood cupboards and the creamy tiles of the breakfast counter with its little peach-pink roses, which is now cluttered with baking trays.

Entirely rose tinted in your view. But you’re blasting the Clash. Loud enough to wake the neighbours.

You’re making cookies for your date tonight. Moms tattered pink apron hanging limp off your body from too many washes. Really it’s a scratchy old thing.

This morning did come around quick. Sunrise like a copper-red wound knifing slashes across the sky. Burning the whole horizon to that fantastic blood orange. You’re too squirmy to sleep. Too excited.

Seeings as you were up early, you put it to use and ran to the store. And now you were knee deep in cookie batter. Chocolate chip. Little starbursts of Cocoa powder and flour dusted everywhere. Head banging, head shaking and hair flicking along to Joe Strummer and his ridiculing tone.

You kick the walnut stained cupboard door closed. It’s wonky and juts out like a stubby tooth snapped off a jaw. It’s always been like that.

Every door in your kitchen creaks. Whines all aged. The appliances have their knacks and sticky tricks that come with years and years worn behind them. Temperamental.

Sure even your whole house is nothing fancy. You’ve never had that much money to scrape together, or give a shit that the whole place is dated. One thing wins favour over all that; your place is cosy.

It’s stuffed with life. Scored deep with it. Consumed. It’s not some ultra chic monotone black-red wasteland. It’s got posters and art on the walls, the crazy bohemian touches that come from your entirely whacky mother.

Sure this house wasn’t all that. But she made it great, and celebrated it in it’s own uniqueness.

Same goes for the best kind of people too. She’d say that to you with a wink.

Handfuls of pennies and some imagination went a long way. Clicking her tongue and shooting you her fierce brand of optimism that seeps out her every pore: eternally unflinching.

A lot of it, this house, echoed its funky warm pattern after the musical, magical, mental, woman who birthed you.

Forever hunting thrift stores for funky things. Weird shaped clocks. The Who posters. 60’s pop art. French Impressionism posters. Stupid cartoon lamps with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on the shade. Broken and chipped from the Goodwill but she liked that it wasn’t perfect or level.

She bought prints of famous artworks. Degas. Van Gogh. Millet. Flower drawings, or pressed leaves and flowers behind a sheet of glass. Not one piece of furniture matches in your living room. Or any room. The rugs are old and squishy soft, worn to death. It’s whacky to say the least. But you’d take it over any home they’re always flashing from the interior pages of a magazine.

She has blue daisy pillows on the couches. Always buys godawful cheap lemon candles that are all sugar acidic when they burn. But it cements that scent of home to you now.

There’s no inch of wall space not covered by frames or colour. One day she got up and impulsively painted your kitchen a bright buttery yellow. Just because. Flowers stamped everywhere cause she saw the idea in some hippy book.

And she filled this house with second hand books, too many, spilling over with them. She crammed your home with laughter, and literature, arts, and so many idols of your taste in music came from her.

You wouldn’t trade her for the entire world.

Flighty and bonkers as she is. You hate her being away so often, and with Charlie gone off now with her serious boyfriend, it does chip at you on the sadder days. Being here alone. It gouges just that little bit more when she’s not around.

The days when Linda says something particularly cutting, or times when jocks insults jab just that little too deep. You do miss her then. You can’t hate her for it. her job is a real earner and it makes her so happy. She brings you back souvenirs from every little corner of the globe she’s seen. Postcards. Snow globes.

She trusts you. She always says you’re her favourite kid in the world. That she knows of.

She’s not like some of the other Hawkins Moms you’ve seen. Not at all. The ones who all go to the same lousy hairdresser for the ruler straight highlighted bob. Go to Jazzercise on Thursdays. Hate their ignorant husbands. Wear beige cardigans and chunky gold jewellery and are the queen of boring casseroles and insist their kids be in bed by nine.

Then there’s her. Jagged and wound down and much looser. Etched in coolness. Less controlled - more quirky. Crazy hair even on a good day. Cherry ice cream smile. Young by their standards. Berkeley dropout. Strolling around in her suede fringed jacket and a Patti Smith t-shirt and boot cut jeans.

You’ve always seen the way other moms raised their brows at her appearance. They think she’s trashy. A single mom who dresses and eats and acts the way she does.

Scoffing behind her back at the rhinestone jacket or her vintage cowboy boots. She’s punchy. She doesn’t give two shits. She loves both her kids passionately and would be the first to swing a punch, split her knuckles open for you. Always in your corner. No matter what.

She had you both so young and braved through your dad walking out. Good riddance. He never did have the balls to do the important shit.

She told you that once you were just on the cusp of being old enough to understand why he wasn’t around.

Told you as she wrapped her arms around you and engulfed you in a hug. Smelling like Yves Saint Laurent Paris and gold Newports. She kissed the top of your head.

He couldn’t hack responsibility babe. He had his chance. Too bad he blew it. Cause I happen to think you’re the coolest pair of kids in the world.

She bucked up and scraped money together and it stung a bit sure. Pinched the corners of life at times. But she turned the back of her Brooke Shields shiny hair to the stares she gets in this town. Flipped the bird to those Carol’s and Susan’s who dared to judge her.

Somehow they thought she was a deadbeat mom. But she’s now raised two honour roll kids. First Charlie. Now you.

You’re on track for Indie State. Charlie went to Purdue. She said she’d love you even if you wanted to flip burgers or fix greasy old clunker cars for a living.

The phone shrills out loud as you’re scooping sticky chocolate chip dough into the greased sheets. It clumped between your fingers.

“Hang on.” You call out with no patience to the ringing, as you lean over to pluck it from the wall. Cradle it between your shoulder and ear. Trying to locate a dish rag for your smeared messy hands.

“Yeah.” Figured it would be someone for Mom, or a telemarketer.

“How’s it hangin, Pencils.”

Immediately a grin bursts on your lips. It’s Pavlovian. He smiles. You echo it.

You hear his voice? Ok then. Your stomach flew to bits. All fluttery like confetti.

“Well well well. If it isn’t my favourite metal head.” You say as you balance your trays down. Bumping the counter with your hip.

He chuckles through the phone. You hear the crackle of his exhale. You can picture his smile and it’s doing something to your guts that is just, crazy.

“Hey, c’mon now. Play fair. You never told me you were seeing other metal heads? I bet it’s that lanky haired bastard from the pizza place on Beechwood Drive, in his Slayer tees.” He twirled the old green phone cord around his finger. It clacks around that chunky silver ring of his.

He’s so quick to step up and play around and you love it. You can hear the jokiness layered on his voice. Hear him moving around cause staying still is his worst nightmare. Typical Eddie.

God. Look at you. You’re both twirling the phone cords around your fingers like middle school girls. Crushes thick in your throats and smiles. Choking your hearts fully. Paper airplanes tossed with love notes folded inside. Initials crossed together in a pink love-heart.

“Yeah.” You tease. “But his hair isn’t as great as yours. And don’t you know by now that I’ve got guys lined up around the block. I’ve had to have a ticket booth installed.” You pick up your wooden spoon to mix.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Linda. I thought I rang my pencils.” You hear the soft scuff of his laugh.

“Hang on one second, my lipgloss needs refreshing.” You pout. “And I feel like I should be singing ‘If I only had a brain’.”

He beams and it’s so wide his cheeks hurt.

“That’s not the Wizard of Oz I’m hearing over there pencils, right?” He deciphers.

“Saint Joe of Strummer. Our lord and saviour.” You tell him proudly. Cursing when you splodge a little of the sticky dough on the countertop. Looking around for the dish rag.

“I’m of the Anti-Christ church myself. Ozzy is my devil and I’m bound to obey.” He leers. His voice drops and it slithers between your legs to hear it get deep.

“Mmm. Sounds kinky.” You flirt. Trying your hardest not to drop dough on your bare toes where you’re scooping it to the tray. He’s a great distraction to your focus.

“If you’re into blood play and satanic practices baby, I got some great news for ya.” He fiddles with the empty microwave packets on the kitchen counter.

Chicken pot pie from two nights ago. The Kraft mac n’ cheese that he shovels down like air. Usually scraping it out the pan, eating it with a too big wooden spoon. As he reads a rock magazine at the kitchen counter.

“Sadly no. Dungeon stuff only. Oh and leather. Face masks. Lots of whipping too. And biting.” You tease.

“Hang on. Lemme get a pen and some paper… I’ll make a note…” He rustles around like he’s actually searching for it. Wiry body with the twisted phone cord wrapped around his torso.

You smile at his eagerness to please you.

“I don’t think you need to take notes, Munson. Last time was pretty sensational.” You blush. Mixing your batter and flirt is creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Jesus. You’ve no idea. It’s been driving me crazy. I should be committed. Look, I couldn’t even wait til tonight to hear your voice. I-“ He sighs in wanting. His tongue was tripping away from him. He drew back. Worried he was being too much.

He couldn’t wait. He had to call you.

“Munson. You never have to be sorry for calling me.”

Cause, I fucking like you.

“You know, you can call me Eddie. Pencils.”

“First name basis? How brazen.” You rib.

“Yeah, later on I was planning to show you my ankles. Risqué or what?” He flirts. You chuckle.

He’s wandering over to the window and flicking the curtain aside with his fingertips to see the same old drab and murky Forest Hills staring back at him.

“What would the village elders say-“ You gasp. “My reputation will be in tatters.”

“Not possible. Your name isn’t Linda.”

“I may have to kiss you for that one.” You warn.

“I’m very open to that.” He says very quickly. Twirling a packet of reds around the shiny surface of the table. Considering lighting one up. The rush of your voice is his nicotine until he hangs up.

You close a cupboard door and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound. “Learning drums over there?” He seeks.

“I’m baking.” You offer up.

Phone at your shoulder and between your ear still as you mix the dough with your other hand to fold in the chocolate chips. Shaking the packet and watching the chips fall. Plinking into the thick batter. It’s very messy and clumsily done.

“Tell me you’re wearing a tiny pink Betty Crocker apron?” He all but purrs down the phone. Licking his lips.

“It’s pink and frilly.” You drawl.

“Mmm. More-“ He rasps down directly down the phone. Grinning. Holds it right to his mouth to talk louder into the receiver.

“Pretty heels too. Lacquered hair like Donna Reed. Whole shebang.”

“Fuck.” He twirls hair around his finger. Almost bites down on his skull ring.

“The images in my head are so unmatched right now. You’ve no idea.” He charms.

“Damn.” He moans again. It’s low and it strikes a direct chord with your pussy.

Shit. You’ve had delicious filthy dreams about those moans. Your hands on that hard dick of his.

“Yeah and don’t forget my strand of pearls.” You grin.

He splutters. Oh he could give you pearls if you wanted them. It’s what he’s been dreaming of.

Such a horny boy.

“You’re the perfect date you know. Kinky as fuck, into whipping and leather. But pearls and baking.”

“You don’t even know what I’m baking-“

“You say pot brownies pencils, I’m gonna go out right this second and buy a goddamned ring.”

“Remember the four C’s. Colour. Clarity. Carat. Cut.”

“Shit. You want a diamond? Hmm I was thinking more along the lines of a pop ring. More in my budget. Or maybe something out the claw machine in the arcade.” He bargains.

“I like a man who puts in the effort. And, hey I’m not picky. I’ll take it. Diamonds are way overrated anyhow.” You decide.

“And just to lay your mind at rest I’m making Extra Chocolate, chocolate chip cookies.”

He cradled his aching throbbing heart. Hand splayed over his chest. Made a groaning noise like he was mortally wounded. A crackle of the sigh rattled the phone.

“Alright. You’re officially too good for me. I’m gonna have to hang up.” He jokes. You laugh.

You really hope he doesn’t.

“Don’t do that.” You ask quietly. “I need to talk to someone sensate. I beg of you.” You urge. “I had to listen to Linda bitch all the way home on Friday about how low fat ice cream sucks, and how much she wants to bang James Spader in Pretty in Pink.”

“Wow that really says a lot about her taste in guys.” He commented. She really was Tiffany-twisted, that girl. Wrapped up in her own over groomed looks, bouncy blonde curls, and sex life. Lived by rules out of Cosmo magazine and fad diets.

“My ears wanted to commit suicide by the time I got home. Thank god cause as I got out the car she started to mention the words sleepover and boyfriend and I just about had the sanity to slam the car door, before anymore came out.”

“Wise move baby.” He beamed.

You preened at the nickname that did dirty things. Finally you now had the cookies ready for the oven.

“Alright...” You clunked the wooden mixing spoon down. “First wave of troops going in. I’ll you know their condition after battle. Hopefully they make a worthy addition to our night as I am trying to impress you with my passably mediocre baking skills.” You charm.

“Hey don’t practice too hard now. You know us guys like em stoopid.” He puts on a southern-belle twang.

“If you can navigate yawself round a tree girlie. Keep on walkin. Them slick city fellers can have ya.” He drawls.

Your laugh makes his whole mood hop into giddy.

“You’re such a goof.” You smile. He couldn’t wait to see that grin of yours in person again. In a mere handful of hours-

“I didn’t need another incentive to be impressed by you, pencils...” He smiles. Tone slipping back into genuine. “Already there.” He offers.

Before you can respond. Hurricane Munson struck elsewhere.

“And uh, Whatever condition those troops are in. I’ll take it. I’m not picky either. Charlie. Tango. Bravo.”

“Good.” You answer. Twiddling with the corner of the dish cloth. Fondness settled like warm oozy mush on your chest. Inescapable.

You could spend hours down the phone listening to Eddie crack his jokes. Twirl around. Get distracted. Put on stupid drama club voices like he was at Hellfire

“There aren’t trees in the way of your trailer are there? Cause I won’t be able to navigate round them all on my own.” You joke in reference to his earlier remark.

“You’re the perfect lady.” He sighs in a sweet hum.

“Oh and uh, I picked the movies for tonight.” He suddenly announced. Sounding cheeky. Brimming with it.

“Yeah?” You asked with inflection. “Yeah.” He answered. With none.

“You’re not gonna tell me are you?” You clued up.

“Leave me to have my wicked wicked fun.”

“VHS tease.” You complained all snarky.

“Scoot your pretty ass over here and come see for yourself you coward.” He dares. Tongue tipped out between his smiling teeth.

“Six still good?” You check. Up on your tiptoes and swirling around the tiled floor. Stomach swooping with anticipation.

“Golden.” He answers.

“Guess I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the skirt.”

He sucks air through his teeth. “Ah same here. I hope we don’t clash.”

“Bye, Edward.” You joke. He gasps.

“Mm. Definitely gonna have to let you see my ankles now.” Comes his voice. Smile traced on it. You could tell.

“I’m counting the minutes.” You dip your voice low.

“See ya.” He parts. Slinging the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall. Smile charged to megawatt from your conversation. He wants to twirl and flip his hair. Goddamnit. He couldn’t keep still.

Then he drags his eyes to his surroundings. The crushed beer cans crumpled up on the kitchen counter, and the coffee table. The overflowing ashtrays. Trash in the kitchen. The dishes. The laundry strewn sofa. The dust- he chews his lip.

It was like he was seeing this place through fresh eyes. And it needed rectifying. He rolled up his sleeves.

Shit. He needed to hustle.

~

It was fair to say Wayne and Eddie had to grow used to living with each other.

The veil of constancy was Eddie’s safety blanket when it came to the gruff and earnestly stoic man, that was Wayne Munson; he pretty much remained himself. Didn’t change much.

Liked his bacon crispy. Made a peach cobbler that would blow your socks off til next Tuesd ay, but couldn’t assemble a sandwich neatly at all. Used to drive big semi trucks across the states. Did the crossword in the Hawkins Gazette. Adored Billie Holiday. Collected comical mugs. Liked strong coffee with cinnamon and had a dislike for cilantro. Loved old spaghetti westerns and that twanging soft country music he always hums too, which had carved space out of his soft-soppy Tennessee heart.

He had hatred for people with nasty gossiping sniping souls. Ugliness born inside, he thinks people don’t ever shift it on or lose that. He worked his fingers to the bone for the modest home and the little money they raked by on. He was unfailingly honest and generous. He had few words to give. He was Eddie’s weather-beaten yet reliable rock.

Eddie can imagine that Wayne getting to know him was more of a challenge; tricky to navigate; herding cats, walking on-knives-and-eggshells kind of difficult. How do you get to know someone when their character is set on shifting sand?

Thing is. Eddie never really changed that much.

He’s still the starry-eyed kid leaping on the couch, shredding air guitar to Metallica in filthy sneakers cause the moment just ran away with him. He’s the one making a huge show of not stepping on cracks in the pavement cause he’s down enough as it is. Not breaking mirrors, ever, and picking up sidewalk spilt pennies. And apologising and stepping over weeds in the trailer lot. Not trampling them underfoot.

Eddie was still the boy inside that felt bad for struggling weeds. The one to feel sorry for a squashed little dandelion.

Wayne wrenched open this home to this kid as a stranger. Barbs and shame-wrapped guilt set in his heart that he didn’t know his brothers own kid better than he did. He kept to his lane. He stayed out the way of his brothers numerous convictions. Remained a stranger to trouble.

But then, when need came knocking; he offered up, no questions asked. The way a bird offered the gentle lift of their wing, to something foreign needing shelter, in a warm bramble nest, from the raging storm.

Eddie will never forget the first words he heard out of Wayne’s mouth. Around the corner of some bland police precinct. Warm. Firm. Dependable.

“He’s my family. He’s blood. That’s enough. Kindly let me see him.”

He didn’t regret stepping up to bat for one minute. Maybe he’s grouchy and he’d never fully ‘get’ or approve of everything his nephew did, or enjoyed. But he didn’t chew him out, or pick at him for it.

He learned what flavour pop tarts Eddie liked best for breakfast. When he needed sleep or help. When he needed space. When to warn him to watch his attitude, or his mouth, or manners, and when to back off. Parental things.

Eddie was a stale eyed kid when he first met Wayne. Perhaps innocent and maybe just jaded enough to see beyond the rose-tinted prism of childhood. He was jaggedy-rough round the edges and not worn into himself yet. Caught up in the hard knocks of social care and down-and-out on his luck, as a mostly unwanted eight year old. That stuck some nasty pins in his ego pretty early on.

Wayne could see how Eddie kept expecting to be shuffled on elsewhere. Big shining eyes that a puppy would envy under a scruff mop of hair. Clutching all he had for dear life. His scruffy collection of tattered comics and stubby pencils and half broken toys.

Kept looking around the trailer like he shouldn’t get too attached. Sat gingerly on the edge of the sagging bed. Shouldn’t make mess or get comfy. Cause soon, he’ll have to pack his scrappy things into that sad cardboard box and eek out a wobbling lipped goodbye. Sad that home hadn’t stuck, again.

Eddie kept that empty scruffy little box sat in the bottom of his closet for six months. Just in case.

Wayne threw that box right in the trash.

Bought him a beat up old turntable. Put a shelf up in his room and a stood a few second hand fantasy paperback books on it. Bought him a few new things that didn’t belong to someone else first.

Wayne watched Eddie fall into stability. To learn how to put roots down. Grow steady and then in quick spurts, into who he was. In that way kids do. The way they grow into clothes that were too big. Shoes that would eventually fill out to fit their steps.

He watched the love of music come blasting in. Middle school. Rolling Stones magazines. Catching Black Sabbath on the radio one day. The appreciation for that loud thrashing dirty-steel rock he now loves. The one that ran vein deep. His idols with the crazy scruffy long hair. He discovered Ozzy and Axl, Judas Priest and Lemmy.

Watched him sew on badges that he bought for pennies at dime stores, and get bloody fingertips cause he really was useless at needlework. Found his signature rings at a cool vintage place outta state. Watched him saw off the arms of his denim jacket and come home with a swing in his step and a DIO shirt from the goodwill - a twinkle in his eye. Determination threaded in this burgeoning passion. Tip of the iceberg.

A plan Wayne. I have a well executed, thorough plan. Foolproof.

Mmmhmm. Is this gonna end up exactly like the last plan you had, kid?

Let’s find out.

Gone from the sweet boy who was too scared of everything, and everyone boring, and being judged, and now he’s turned inside out, full circle, to become this genuinely sweet young man, who turned against that boring tide of beige normalcy.

Eccentric and whirly with the unfocused energy that never burned out. Dynamite blaze kid. Even when he tried to hide scrapes on his knees, and raw knuckles. A shiner that he let his shaggy fringe cover, from an attempt to fight and claw back.

He still gave Wayne that shocking toothy grin with a fat lip and a busted nose, cause he was actually stupid proud of himself - and the way he stuck up for some freshman. The tiny nerdy one who had a carton of milk poured over his head by the meat head jocks. Having pages ripped out his science textbooks by them and spread to the wind like leaves.

Eddie sat beside the newbie with bleeding raw knuckles, cracked jokes, sellotaped those torn pages back together - wonky. Just to show that someone out there, cared.

The smiles became armour, devil horns and Gene Simmons tongue. The hair started to grow out into rioting curls. Doe eyes glinted promiscuity; to those who didn’t know him well enough to know there was no shred of malice anywhere in him.

Eddie collected parts of himself, the way someone would laundry plucked off the line- like the badges and pins he secured on his chest and flashed around for fun.

He found his first DND board and his dice at a yard sale. And then came that sweet head-muzzy strain of Colombia gold, and Reefer Rick and light frothy cans of beer on an empty stomach. He found acceptance. Ripped jeans and scuffed knees. The exquisite pin pricks of a scratchy tattoo the day he turned 18. Asked if he could wear the old sagging leather jacket he found hung in the back of the closet, from Wayne’s younger and more hip days.

The way he went full bonkers-gaga over seeing his 24 fret NJ warlock in the window of a music store in town. Bursting big heart eyes over it and saving up for months. Awfully tempted by the idea of some piercing, somewhere, but nearly fainted when he got in the shop. So that was the end of that. He founded Hellfire and he protected his fellow freaks. Scraped together his high school band.

Collected the little lost sheepies in armfuls, in bunches, so that no one within his reaches would ever have to sit and console that festering hungry chasm of being an unwanted kid, with nowhere to turn.

Cause Eddie knew well enough, it was a bottomless gremlin pit with gnashing teeth, and it would take take take as long as you bothered to feed it.

And all that learning and comfiness, and living, now it currently tapered down to Wayne not being at all surprised, by watching his nephew shaking frail little spindly spiders out into the doormat, talking soothingly to them.

Shooing them out off the glossy pages of his rock music magazine. Telling them to get used to the brave new world of Forest Hills outside these four walls.

“-And kudos by the way for eating the flies. Appreciate you for that. Sorry I’ll have to take down those cobwebs. Consider this your eviction notice.” As he jimmied the last one off the paper and it crinkled noisily. Bracelet on his wrist jingling.

Wayne is peering over the shield of his paper. Coffee steaming away in a chipped Snoopy mug by his side. Cigarette dangling from his fingers. Watching Eddie crouch right at the mouth of the trailer door. Holding it open and watching the insects lope away in new brave directions.

Pieces of clarity started to to swim together when he takes a look at Eddie’s clothes.

Different to his normal threads on a Saturday night; Either he’s kicking his feet into reeboks, shouldering on his leathers and vest to go out a party at some place, and come back reeking of grass and beer breath. Or; he’s shuffling around in his thread bare plaid pyjama pants and a ratty AC/DC tee, asking what’s for dinner through a smeary eyed yawn.

This is neither; he straightened up to go and neatly return the magazine to his room, as opposed to throwing it down to rest in any old place. Odd.

Wayne took notice of his clothes. Black jeans that were suspiciously clean of ash stains or frayed knee holes. His long sleeved black skull tee rolled up to his elbows, ink on display. Chest blazoned with a band name he’s never heard of, and down the sleeve too in gothic red. His hair was all fluffed up - like he’d finally discovered what a comb was.

Eddie saunters back into the room. Flitting from place to place. Shoving beer cans in a bulging garbage bag. Along with empty crushed food packets that he left out. Sweeping crumbs off the counter with his bare hands. Probably over the floor but the effort was there- picking cigarette butts off the floor that he was careless enough to drop.

And Wayne didn’t even have to shoot his usual look, clearing his throat at him, about that nasty habit. He was clearing up entirely on his own. Without prompt.

He was rushing. Rushing was the antithesis of Eddie’s speed. A thin film of sweat on his brow under that choppy lollop of a fringe. He’s crammed garbage bags full. Shoving stuff inside.

Says something under his breath that sounds like “shit” as he darts back into his room. Wallet chain jangling behind him. Socked feet thudding softly on the carpets.

He keeps an ear open for what sounds like commotion. Frantic tidying. The shuffling of clothes by the armful. Closet doors shutting with a thwack. He talks to his guitar as he hums and tidied.

“I know I know. Sweetheart. I should have done this earlier. Don’t look at me like that…”

He rounds up his dirty clothes and does a sniff test - again. That was the third time tonight.

Movement clattering along the hall. Socked feet storm back to the washer. He’s stuffing an armful of mostly all black clothing into it like he’s trying to dispose of body parts in there. Ramming in so much he has to shut the door quick.

“Rat bastard.” He hissed after he shook the dream fresh laundry powder in and slams it shut. Punches it for good measure. His rings clack on the metal-metal contact. Shook his fist out I n the air cause that hurt more than he thought it would.

Now he’s back to the trash bags in the kitchen. Looping them up and walking across the door to dump them outside in the garbage cans. Hopping across the sharp gravel in socked feet like a jumping hare.

Wayne sees that determined set in his brow as the door snaps open and back in slams Eddie at a million miles a second. Frowning at everything he sees. Sloped brows. Mouth curled into a grimace.

He comes to empty the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table near Wayne. Well, it was an old soup can that somehow turned into an ashtray. Annoyed that he missed it. Muttering to himself. Scooping away dust. It was like watching a one man ant farm.

This led to him now being stood on the couch, suddenly reorganising the shelf behind it. Batting cobwebs away from mugs and wiping a hand on his jeans.

“Jesus. I mean how dusty is this place?” Eddie asks to no one in particular. Not expecting an answer.

Silence. Rustling.

Wayne folds up his paper and nicely slaps it down on the arm beside him. Folds his hands in his lap. “Eddie.”

Eddie turns around like a doe eyed deer caught in semi headlights. Twisted at the waist. Back of his shirt riding up over his lithe waist. Peek of his back and his plaid red boxer band showing over the back of his jeans.

The bony notches of his spine poke through skin where he’s leaning over. He blinks owlishly at his uncle. One foot braced on the back of their elderly moth-eaten couch.

“What the hell you doin?” Wayne asks with kind bewilderment. Shaking his head at his kid.

“Spring cleaning?”

Wayne’s eyes narrow as he lifts his hand up and sucks on his cigarette. “Sure?” He checks.

“No?” Comes the answer. Carefully. Wincing. Wayne takes a breather.

“There’s cobwebs. And, dust.” He explained. Pointing to the wall before him. “Look see, dust.”

“Why the sudden aptitude for household chores there, huh?” Wayne asks as he nurses his cooling coffee.

To his shame they don’t exactly keep the place pristine. He tries his best, but on some days work takes it clean outta him. Eddie’s room resembled a garbage tip bomb-site most likely.

Eddie swallows. “You know. Just- some light maintenance.” He shrugs. That was the most plausible answer his brain spat out upfront.

“On a Saturday night?”

“I’m um, totally slammed on Sunday.” He admits. Clapping off his hands.

“Kid. How stupid do you think I am. Because frankly, all I’ve seen, is all I need to see. If you get my drift.”

Eddie turns away and continues his frantic cleaning. Polishing a mug with his shirt sleeve.

“I have… guests… coming over tonight.” If he makes it plural maybe he can get away with it.

“Your DND club.” Wayne guesses. This earns a snort from the metalhead.

“I once saw Gareth eat pizza off the canteen floor. Like I’d bother dusting here for those doofuses.” He grins.

“Then question remains; who are you dusting, and laundry-doing and taking out the spiders for?” Wayne leans forward and asks. Scratching the stubble at the side of his grizzled jaw.

Eddie clings to silence. Which he never does. Never ever does this boy exist without noise bursting out his mouth. Looks like a sheepish kid again.

Wayne’s gaze meets his. ‘Well?’

Cause he would support whomever Eddie chose to bring home. Girl or boy, or undecided. He’s no dummy. He’s got eyes in his head. He’s seen things. The little quirky tics in Eddie’s character when he likes someone. He knows his kid pretty darn well enough by now.

“A girl.” Eddie concludes turning away, like it was casual, cool, and nothing to get worked up over. No biggie. Just… the girl of my dreams. So what? I can be casual about this. It’s totally fine. And normal. Normally fine.

“A girl.” Wayne nods.

“Change this record. It’s skipping.” Eddie leers. Pointing a funny wagging finger at his relative.

“This girl. She royalty or something.”

Eddie cuts a look. It’s just bordering on grumpy and peeved.

“Listen, she ain’t coming to inspect the place or audit us. A little dust and clutter isn’t gonna put her off spending time with you, now is it.”

Eddie sighs. Itched the back of his head. Screwed his eyes shut.

“No. See man. I wanted to be presentable. Cause when she walks in this trailer, she’s gonna be expecting me to look and act like sleazy, greasy trailer trash. And I just. Wanna-“ he clenched his fists.

“Just wanna be….presentable.” He mumbled. Repeating. As he softly scuffed the couch arm with his foot. He sighed. Rubbed a dusty knuckle in his eye until stars scrawled black and bursting.

“Goddd. Look at me. I’ve showered twice. And I untangled the knots out my hair. I used that fancy bar soap I got for xmas that smells like lemons. I brushed my teeth for a whole two minutes. May have used a splash of your cologne. That stung like hell by the way.” He added naughtily. Pinching the collar of his shirt in two fingers and flapping it up and down to cool himself off.

“I’m sweaty. My hair feels itchy. I don’t know what I’m gonna say. She’s gonna be stunning, and awesome and I feel like I’m having a heart seizure or probably a stroke over here. I don’t know man. Fuck-“

Wayne let’s him get it out. As he’s learned with Eddie sometimes it’s best. He often just needed a ramble. To let his tongue lash til he ran dry.

He kicked the couch again. Harder. Still standing up tall on it.

“What’s she like, this girl. She into the same kinda stuff as you?” Wayne enquired.

It dipped muzzily into his big soft heart seeing Eddies mouth hooked right up into a petite smile when he asked about you. One side curls.

“No she’s, uh, she likes Punk music and Bowie, Talking Heads, Billy Idol, and like, you should hear her, she talks about all these artists and shit I’ve never heard of. It’s amazing-“

She’s entirely too good for the likes of me.

“She’s so cool. Effortlessly cool y’know?- And creative?! She likes scary movies and she works in the record store. She hates jocks. I cannot believe she’s actually bothering to look twice at a moron like me. Super senior, King of the freaks.” He jabs his fingers into his bony skull clad chest.

Because Eddie didn’t think it was exactly a secret that flunk out’s like him, were never exactly crawling in babes, or cramming in dates on the weekends.

“I really like her.” He mumbled openly. Wiping palms on his jeans. That’s what this effort all whittled down too.

He couldn’t meet Wayne’s eyes as he said it. It seemed to good to be true. His hopes were so little. Floundering seeds.

He wanted this to go well. He whirled his eyes elsewhere and fidgeted through his words. Typical Eddie.

“I gathered as much from your general-“ Wayne waved his hand around in the air of the living room and towards the kitchen “…Running round. Giving me whiplash just watching you, kid.” He stubs out his cigarette.

Eddie stays where he is. Stood couch top. Absorbing the information Wayne fed him.

“Why don’t you get down from there. Leave the dusting the hell alone. And just relax.” He soothes. Always a balm to the frizzy fraying nerves.

Eddie looks like it could be a trap if he dares to let himself chill out. You say it like it’s easy.

“She must like you to come all the way out here to spend time with you. Just be yourself. I guarantee you, that’s what she’s interested in. Not the state of this place.” He shifts in his chair and groans a little. Adjusts his legs.

Eddie let’s out a huff. Slumps down the sofa and throws his body onto it. Crazy hair flicking after he moved. It’s fluffier too. Some lame attempt at his own hands to pretty it up from its usual insanity.

“What you guys planning on doing?” He seeks. Sips his coffee. Distraction worked well, too. He often found.

“Ordering pizza and watching a couple movies.” Eddie says up to the ceiling. Scanning for cobwebs. Fiddling with the rings on one hand. One knee twitching up and down.

He had the stack of videos ready on top of the TV. Night of the Living Dead. Nightmare on Elm Street. And then Ghostbusters for something undeniably cheesy. The microwave popcorn in the kitchen. A number for the pizza place hemmed in on the fridge with magnets, as per usual.

Wayne makes a soft noise at the back of his throat at hearing that. A smile creeps on his lips. He idly reads the folded back of his paper.

“What?” Eddie quizzes.

Wayne’s smile grows if anything.

“I may be an old man. But I was young once. I do happen to know what that means.” He stared Eddie down in that parental way.

“You’re gonna be careful with this girl, right. Safe sex ain’t no joke.”

That did it.

“Aww man, c’mon.” Eddie choked, cringing, as he launched himself up out the sofa and quickly scurried away like a jangly pillar of goth black missile. Aimed sharpish in another direction.

“It’s a first date, by the way. I’m not gonna be breaking out the condoms and whistles and bells here.” He lets out.

He’s shaking his head and losing himself in the confines of his room. Music is softly shredding out the low stereo. Alice Coopers ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ sneers softly into his room. He cranks it up.

Wayne stood up. Smiling and shaking his head in making his kid cringe. Gathering his things for work. Walking to the kitchen slowly to empty the dregs of his cup. Leave it in the sink for later. He grabs his things as he walks on past the front door. Heavy work boots crushing soft on the carpets and then the lino.

He walks right up to Eddie’s door, peers into the clustered metal gilded mess of his room.

Shocked to notice he could actually see the floor. And the raunchy pin ups were safely shepherded away inside the closet. The playboy magazines he pretends he doesn’t know about shoved under the bed. The dresser and side tables were still messy as. There’s been an attempt at making the bed. The sheets are straightened and tucked in.

“Listen now, you’re 20 year old man, and you have a zipper. I won’t say any more than that. But you best play it safe. Y’hear?”

“NO.” Eddie fairly shrieks.

“Not listening anymore.” Comes the answer as he faffs around and pretends to be busy with some things in his closet.

“Eddie.” Wayne smiles.

He turns back around and stands up. Expression of limited enthusiasm.

“Wayne. I am the town fuck up in a lot of ways. But not in this way.” He marched back to his bedside. Throws the blue Trojan condom packet up in the air and catches it. A silent ‘see?’

His uncles brow crooks up. Shuffling his wallet into his jeans. Pulling on his heavy fleece lined denim jacket. “Jeez. Those things still in date?”

Eddies face falls.

“They expire?” He flips the packet and looks at the back.

“Lord. I am gettin out of here. Save me some pizza would ya.” Wayne dismisses with a shake of his old head.

This high school romance thing was better left a young man’s game.

~

Eddie thinks he forgets how to breathe, when the buttery headlights of your car slant into the big window of the trailer.

He poked his head out the door earlier. The air is cool out tonight. Hung with moisture, so thick you could sip at it. Icy cold like a dirty clear martini. The kind of night that bloats up and leaves the taste of wet grass on your tongue.

The headlights are a sobering neon yellow under the cushy spring night that was churning slowly in dregs and streaks, to a violet. Lilac bathed air punched with cold. One of those night slow nights that gets slipped into dark majesty, and the stars cluster bright like winking pearls.

Eddie’s eyes have been on the windows for an hour. He’s paced groves in this thick matted carpet, he’s sure of it. Eyes set on the windows like he’s on a mission. Trying not to chew his nails. Got him acting like a pound mongrel waiting for their owner to come home.

The car lights flick off. Engine cuts dead.

And now he can hear the slam of your car door. His heart rockets into overdrive with scary amounts of adrenaline and stabbing excitement that will, he’s sure, undeniably make a moron out of him before then night is out.

You’re stepping up the creaky porch. He knows those snaps and shifts of the old steps. You’re knocking on his door.

He takes a deep breath. Fills his crappy sentimental lungs, that he placated with a cigarette, twenty ache filled minutes ago.

He cannot open the door fast enough, and the sight of you the other side, roundhouse whirls into his chest. Smacks right between the ribs. Fists him by the front of his t-shirt and yanks-

You’re like that song Wayne hums and taps his feet too, when he makes eggs on a Sunday mo rning. ‘Like being hit by a falling tree, woman, woman what you do to me.’

“Ah woman bearing beer. You’re definitely welcome inside.” He grins. Leaning against his door.

He thinks he keeps on imagining how pretty you are. But here you stand with the cheap orange light of the trailer washing back over you, haloing your body like a wash of heaven, and he’s gotta remember not to stare.

You’ve brushed this smoky-sparkly purple eyeshadow on. Nightshade purple like the sky out tonight. Big lashes all dark too. Your lips are pink shiny and glossy. (You so totally stole a tube from Linda, naughty pencils)

You’re wearing a brown corduroy skirt and a black polo neck. Long brown leather boots up to your calves. Your hair is so silky. Eyes shimmering this angel honey warmth at him.

You’re holding an eggshell coloured plate of Saran-wrapped cookies. Piled high and dark chocolate. In your other hand you have a six pack of coors and something else-

“Best part?” You begin.

You hold something up, tilt your head and there’s that smile.

The thing you hold, it’s all canine teeth and fake tufts of hair. Two triangle ears. Tacky acetic smell of plastic. “For the Heist.”

A wolf man mask. A smile leaps onto his lips.

“You think of everything.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Got yours I hope Pencils?” He asks with a levelled look as he widens the door for you to step in.

“It’s in the car. Messes up my hair.” You shrug. You climb up the last uneven wedge of a step and move to come inside.

“Hey.” You smile. He liked that you goofed around first. Went traditional greeting second.

“Hey back.” He said softly. Pretty smile all wide. Espresso dark eyes fixed unendingly on your face.

You nervously chew your lip and gaze down. You want to lean over and kiss his cheek but didn’t want to overstep or be weird about it.

You clunkily flounder on the doormat. Self doubt lingers on your fingertips. You wish you could just escape into the confidence to lean over and kiss him like you did the other night. But then you had a belly of vodka and Dutch courage backing you up.

Decide hand him over the plate of cookies. He can smell the cocoa and sugar sneaking out when he takes the thing off you. “For you-“ you gift.

“Troops made it. Well done boys.” It makes you chuckle. Wiggles the plate in one hand and talks to the cookies.

“Hope you got a sweet tooth. I made so many.”

“Always.” He answers to your enquiry. “My diet is 98% Oreos and mini powdered donuts.” He beams.

You nudge the beers in your hand too. “Fridge?”

He takes them off you gently. “Yeah, here, gimme.” He bundled them up and stepped past you. The door snapped shut behind him and you took in the space as Eddie padded to the fridge.

You smile as you gaze around the walls. The scratchy orange curtains. The warmness of the lamps splashing up light. A very well beloved couch and all the mug keepsakes and hats on the walls. It’s cosy. It’s a home. Capital H. Just like yours. You can see that from one glance.

The Campbell’s soup can used as an ashtray cause the actual red glass ashtray next to it was overflowing with pocket junk. The plaid shirts yet to be ironed, crumpled somewhat clumsily in a laundry basket. Some sepia family pictures tacked to the space above the counter where the sun won’t bleach them. The red pansy pattern on the sofa that clashes with the lone saggy yellow throw pillow. The marbled malty brown carpet.

A place that sure wasn’t fancy, but had character and warmth in swathes more than anything designer and clinical green money could buy. It’s a sagging trailer sure, no hiding that. But you imagine with a cold shower of outside patting at the roof, these friendly yellow walls would swallow you up in their charming blanket of old cigarettes, male cologne and powder dreamy detergent. Some scratchy record playing blues and a snuggly throw on that couch, it would be a sort of enclosing haven.

“It’s uh- not much. But… a place to crash or to hang your hat, as Wayne says.” Eddie trails off. Setting the cookies on the counter. Nodding in jest towards the numerous baseball caps.

“I like it. Honestly. You should see my house. Moms hippy-bohemian posters and pretty strange sense of interior decor reigns strong.” You tell him.

“I’d like to see that.” He says as he clunks beers in the ancient whirring fridge. You smile over at him. You nod and share eye contact.

“Come through the front door this time though, perhaps. Save your ass from that thorny rose bush.” You encourage warmly.

“Awh. You’re worried about the state of my ass.” He preens. Leans against the counter and gives you moony eyes.

“Damn right. Someone��s got to be.” You answer back.

“Thank heaven it’s you.” He simpers. Smile

Slowly crawls up and your stomach warms all dizzy. You bite your lip.

“Drink?” He offers. Hands splayed over the counter. “We got Pepsi, ginger ale.”

“Actually, a beer would be great.” You nod. Cold buzz light give you some courage to finally bump your mouth to those soft sweet lips you adore. And had missed.

You should have done it tonight the second he opened the door. Damn politeness. You should’ve sprung on him.

“Two beers. Coming up.” He grins. Drums the counter with open slaps of his hands. Dives for the fridge.

You unzip your boots. Worried about getting wet marks on the floor.

“Princess. Your shoes are probably cleaner than this carpet.” Eddie explains wryly from behind the fridge.

Coming back to see you standing into the mushy carpet in your bare feet. Painted toes mulberry purple. Sparkles glitter gritty over the deep paint.

“It’s the principle of the thing now, Munson.” You say as you toe them off. Stuff your socks inside. You place them by the door and wander over to the jut of the counter. Standing the other side looking at him. His skin itches and leaps with the realisation of your smiling at him. He more than likes it.

He’s got the beers before him. Cracking them open. The fizz and the hoppy mist. He slides yours on over for you to catch like a saloon bar in a western.

“Mi’lady” He says as he raises his can up for you to crash them together in a toast. A tinny clank where you toast. His rings clack on the side of the can.

“Thank you, gallant Knight.” You flatter. After taking back a cold hop filled sip.

It makes you think of that slanted drunken time in Kyle’s garden. Sharing polite sips of a warm beer. Stealing glances under fringes and sparing longing looks.

You watch his brows raise with surprise at your choice of title. “And here, I thought I was the jangly belled jester dude. Or the scrawny but lovable bard.” He grins all toothy.

“Fraid not. You’re my Knight in shining DIO vest.” You tell him.

If you had to, you’d rearrange the entire solar system by hand to see the sight of Eddie Munson blush again the way he is now. His cheeks full with it.

He scratches the back of his neck and looks like he wants to twirl away and hide in his hair all bashful.

“You rescued me from the pack of Ogres and brought me healing Campbells aid. Not to mention some very seriously delicious behaviour in a closet.” You played along. Fiddling your fingertips along the edge of the counter. “That’s Knightly behaviour, my guy.” You nod.

“You’d be ok with being my maiden then, huh?” He can’t ignore the very bloated intent behind those words. Chews the inside of his lower lip. He can taste beer and he’s so aching to kiss you again.

“More than ok.” You met his longing brown gaze. Those melty eyes standing stark under that chippy fringe. “Hey, as long as you don’t think I’m the Dragon. I’m fine with whatever.” You hold your hands up.

His smile brightens. “I think we all know who the dragon is, pencils.”

You laugh.

His heart swoons.

And then it twirls somewhere different. He looks intent. Like he wants to grab something but can’t. Pent up. Like he’s digging fingers into the counter to keep from something else.

“Ok, excuse the shit outta me but, fuck it, I should have done this the second I saw you tonight.”

He suddenly bursts into movement around the counter. You follow where he rounds it in record time. Chain jangling. Socked feet padding the floor.

Emotions are chunky jagged things that can’t contain him. Slip off his body like oil slick. Beat off him like rain bouncing off concrete. It can’t contain him or maybe it’s the other way around.

He comes your side and you can barely have a breath before he’s cupped your neck either side, so gentle, and pushed his lips onto yours in a kiss so sweet it made your brain wipe blank.

His body cages you back into the counter. Tile top digging the back of your waist. Your hands flounder for a second. You smile to his lips before your hands come to his back. His belt buckle jams to your skirt and it makes your stomach flutter with want.

He tastes the same and it’s a flavour you’re oddly fascinated by. Smoky brush and hoppy beer. Maybe a little acrid but you don’t mind it. So traditionally Eddie it makes your knees wobble.

His thumb is soft on the line of your jaw. Savours the way He languidly kisses you out of breath. He swallows a sugary clasp of a little gasping noise you made. Wants more- more more more of them. He’s caught in your orbit and never wants to fall out of this clutch of your gravity.

Tastes the gloss off your mouth and he prays you don’t think him a massive perverted creep for this.

When you break for air, his lips don’t wander far. Spit wet and near yours and now he’s wearing sugar high pink gloss too. His nose lays along the line of yours.

“Sorry-“ He gasps.

He may have short circuited your brain with that kiss. Glitched something out for sure.

“I don’t see what sorry has to do with that.” You murmur softly. Leaning up to brush your nose into his. Try to contain this harsh vein buzz he’s got going in you.

“Inviting you over to my trailer and mauling you.” He gasps as he rakes a soft brush of hair off your cheek. Back tenderly behind your soft ear.

You push on your tiptoes. Capture his mouth in a slowly melting peck. Hand sliding across his cheek. Palming a cheekbone. Fingertips nesting in that dry wild mane.

“I don’t mind a little mauling.” You explain. He rests his hands on your hips with a self satisfied chuckle. Thumbs stroking the waistband of your skirt.

“Not very Knightly.” He quipped. Going dumb the way you plucked kisses at his mouth in-between his attempts to speak.

“Chastity is overrated. I’m not waiting in a fucking tower to protect my virtue.” You tell him.

You’ve got his fucking chest skipping and his heart is on the roof of his mouth. Cheeks ache from smiling.

He holds your waist like he’s afraid you’ll move or drift away. Ridiculous. You’ve patiently waited to get here. You’re not budging. Eyes set on yours. The wet gloss glimmer of your lips and those eyes he pathetically wants to stare into like he’s discovered a new form of Eden.

“I can’t believe I didn’t work up the courage to talk to you sooner.” Bursts out his mouth before he can stop it. A shy little confession that he feels very nerdy to have given a voice too.

“Wanna know something?” You tell him all softly. Stroking over the wavy tips of those choppy bangs.

“If not guess I’ll just kiss it outta you…” He decides. Eyes dizzily on your lips. His hips sway into you and he tilts his head to plant a sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I think I had a crush on you from the very second you got sat behind me in history class.” You explain.

You couldn’t help it. There you were all wrapped and stirred up in your love of punk and anarchy. And then in walks this crazy, messy leather clad and metal dipped kid with doe eyes and trouble stroked deep into his smile. The frenzy and the non-conformity. Clutched you good.

“Why do you think I always tapped on your shoulder asking for a pencil, pencils?” He teased. But he wasn’t done;

Sense slotted into place.

“Do you know why I call you that by the way?” He checks. Voice such a soft chasm of purity.

“I assumed the way I’m always covered in graphite and ink, and paint splatters.” You shrugged.

“No.” He raises your hand up and marks a kiss the back of it. “But I do really dig that look on you.”

“Alas-“ He continued. “Its because you never snapped at me. Never once rolled your eyes or ignored me when I tapped on your shoulder. You didn’t dismiss me the way everyone else did.”

You’re floored. Stood pinned to this counter and you’re so touched.

“You always gave me a pencil. Always. And you smiled at me as you did it. Didn’t tell me to keep it with disgust or bark that you wanted it back right after. Look at it like you’d contract rabies from being touching something I’d used.”

You indeed smiled at him. You asked about the patches on his vest. About the bands you’d not heard of. Told him the answer to a random question of the pop quiz if you saw him struggling. Twisted around and caught sight of the horned devil skull he was doodling and thought it was cool.

You lit up when he came into class or when he said something funny. And sure, he did show off in the hopes it would earn that beam of yours. He always felt like opportunity slipped out his hands when you scurried away after class finished.

He tried every day, to stay and catch your eye- make you laugh again. Just something to rouse that little kernel of connection he had to you. And when he saw you around you were always alongside the blonde one he assumed was too cool to approach.

“Wow, we’re morons. It’s only taken us this long to get things going.” You supplied casually.

“Pencils. Trust me. I noticed you beside that blonde poodle friend of yours a lot. I thought how pretty and awesome you seemed. Would’ve tried to talk to you, but I kinda thought you hated me.” He admits with a wince.

“Why?” You ask almost sadly. Ready to crunch up your own conscience in guilt.

“That’s what people usually do. They don’t even get to know me they just decide to skip right to the ‘hating my guts’ part.”

You shake your head. Boldly.

“Not this people.” You say. Cupping his cheek. “And I’d like to spend a lot of time proving that tonight.”

Your free hand slunk to his waist. Holding him with a perfectly lovely touch that has his knees swooning. Fuck it, yes. He could swoon too.

He smiles at that. And it’s so stunningly honest it makes the slippy walls of your heart ache. Lays his lips onto yours again.

“What’s say we order this pizza, get buzzed and uh, do some very dirty hand stuff on the couch whilst we pretend to be interested in it?” He grins.

“Perfect.” You slip up and kiss him again. Arms crossed over his shoulders. Body entirely pasted to his.

“Does this mean we’re officially dating now?” You ask him sweetly when you pull back. Not having moved one inch away. Engrossed, entangled and entwined.

“It better.” He nudged his nose to yours. And it really was as simple as that.

“Fuck. I wanna kiss you again. Can I-“ He started, and before you can even answer. Before your tongue can shape and push words out your teeth. He’s on you again.

“Baby. We’re way past asking permission.” You break away and breathily tell him as the kissing gets heavier, more intense. Arms squeeze harder. Getting closer when there’s no room to spare already. Crushed. No breath. It’s glorious.

“Don’t tell me that.” He flirts. If you give him free-reign, you’ll never be able to reel him back again. You just won’t. He’s far too, far gone.

“Believe I just did.” You tell him. Ballsy.

He leads you stumbling by the waist over to the couch. Smiling. Nibbling your lower lip. Sucking and his tongue sweeping yours. Knocking and kissing, knees touching. Falling and falling into each other again. You gasp where you awkwardly clash together on the lumpy couch cushions.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one Pencils.” He teases. Face all blushy and definitely love-drunk. Kiss dazed. Funny how you’d quite forgotten about those beers all of a sudden.

“Bring it on, Munson.” You urged.

~

🕷️This here? Oh no biggie. Just the next part of Eddie x Pencils 🕷️

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @stiegasaw @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @poppy-metal @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx

~

[elysiumarchieve]

Scaramouche kissing headcannons? Pretty please???

combining these two requests because i can fit them well together!

scaramouche kissing headcanons

warnings: fluff, and my horrible attempts at explaining kisses, i feel bad putting him as a warning the entire time but he is a menace

✧ scaramouche,, isn't too fond of physical affection

✧ in his eyes, it's weird that people press their mouths together and 'make out', which literally looks like they are eating each other's face (he watched fatui recruits make out in the hallways, my dude saw some wild stuff)

✧ however, scaramouche is open to learn more about kisses, though you need time and patience to warm him up to the idea

✧ while he likes soft pecks on his cheeks when he isn't in the mood for more affection, he becomes really soft around you (and his cheeks are extremely squishy and you feel like you have to thank the shogun for creating him like this)

✧ cup his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses and he will groan at your display of affection, but never dares to make any argument against you - in fact, if you would stop due to his reaction, he'll glare at you and ask immediately why you stopped

✧ for him, kisses are really intimate. after all, he wouldn't press his mouth onto anyone else mouth other than yours that is, so that's that

✧ i see him as the type of person to grab your hands and press soft kisses onto the back of your hand, your fingertips and any small wound you have from fighting that he could find. he also likes pressing his face into the palm of your hand afterwards, a smug grin on his face when he notices your startled and flustered expression on your face as you try to process what he just did. it's such a simple act to show how much he truly appreciates you and yet you always have the same shocked look on your face.

✧ kisses with scaramouche are not an everyday thing. while he has his five minutes in which he might be more demanding for affection than on other days, he doesn't really want to to kiss you the entire time. if you ever come home to him however and kiss him on the lips unprompted, he'll scoff but won't ever refuse you

✧ despite that, kissing him for real, on his actual lips is somewhat of an experience. you can tell he has never done this before and it bothers him to the point of wanting to reject any sort of affection like this, so that's why you need patience. he'll quickly believe that he is of no use if he is unable to perform any task before him, even if it might be a simple kiss (it's the trauma)

✧ his kisses are slow but demanding, leaving you breathless when he parts from you. his hands usually cup your face in an almost possessive way, his way of making sure you're not actually leaving (which sounds stupid in his head since you're right?? there??). his kisses might be slow and somewhat sensual, something rather unexpected from the balladeer of all people, but he's demanding your entire attention to be directed at him, to only see him in those few seconds and that you wouldn't dare even to think about anyone else

✧ he doesn't really peck your face or suddenly attack you with a barrage of kisses, but rather, when he happens to be in a good mood, he'll kiss your forehead gently and immediately turn away and leave the scene as quickly as possible

✧ in a way he reminds you of how snow is, ice cold to the touch but melts right away when coming in contact with your skin - scaramouche was just like that. with no natural body warmth and nothing to essentially make him human, he struggles with himself in a way you couldn't understand but try and grasp upon his feelings

✧ you know that the only reason he still wants to keep you at an arms length at times is rooted in his own fear of being abandoned, something you'd never dare to speak up about with him. knowing him, he'd get upset if you ever mentioned any hidden insecurity of his

✧ so when he kisses you, a small gentle kiss to the back of your hand, a loving kiss on the lips that only you ever came to receive from him, he was similar to a snowflake melting and warming up. he might be cold to the touch, but his heart must be otherwise, that's what you're certain about

✧ at one point, scaramouche might even become impatient if you forget to kiss him after returning home or if you forget your daily peck on his cheek (something he wants to hate but craves as a part of his routine)

✧ sitting across the room, he might clear his throat multiple times, his arms crossed before his chest as he glares at you expectantly

✧ if you have the audacity to ask him what's wrong he'll scoff, simply asking in a deadpan tone if you didn't forget about something - if you still can't remember, scaramouche won't say it and leave the room just moments later, mumbling something under his breath not even you could understand. his pride doesn't allow him to ask for kisses, and besides, how could you forget? (he's more bothered by the fact that he hated not receiving any kiss that morning as you were in a hurry)

✧ why don't you magically understand what he wants from you? stupid mortal

✧ it's not until weeks later you notice the subtle pattern in his behavior. if you kissed his cheek he wouldn't sit down at the same spot and clear his throat pasisve aggressively, sitting there with his arms crossed and glaring at you

✧ if you ask him about it in a rather amused tone, he'll huff and dismiss you, claiming that 'you're too stupid to even remember your own routine' - you don't press this matter and simply give him a peck on his cheek

✧ my poor boy never received any love, so any form of affection and especially physical affection feels foreign to him, so he needs time to warm up to it. however, in his case it's absolutely worth it - for him as for you, he can show you even further how important you are to him, even if it was just a simple kiss

✧ and being a little shit, he expects the same treatment for him without having to ask for it. after all, you said this is what lovers do, so it should come natural to you, right?

✧ he won't admit that he likes kisses. he will never admit this, but you know better

[hmshermitcraft]

False isn't terribly insecure about her appearance. Sometimes her hair doesn't want to behave, or her scars feel a little too visible, but over all she's confident.

One bigger thing is how squishy her cheeks are. Not because she cares, but because the hermits find it so fun to squeeze and pinch them. Some have even nibbled them

Her defensive strategy was to wink and ask "which cheeks?" but then the hermits decided to just bite those too! She cannot win on this server full of bullies.

How dare they find her cute and attractive. Absolutely uncalled for.

Makes it pretty hard to feel negatively about her body, though. Take that, stupid self-doubt, the evidence says otherwise!

[hotpeoplesimp1]

Dean Winchester Oneshot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem plus!sized reader

Warnings: MDNI, not plot, pure porn. Oral (f receiving), praise kink, thigh slapping though minor, soft!dom Dean, Dean because he is a warning, boob play, dirty talk, p in v, no protection (which is stupid, wrap it before you tap it), insecurities, body image issues. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Summary: nothing. Just smut

Feedback is always welcome as long as it’s respectful. This is my first post so be lenient please. Have a wonderful day!

——————

“Fuck, sweetheart… You’re soaked.” Dean breathed out from above me. His green eyes blown with lust and hunger.

My body laying down on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. Feeling extremely vulnerable and open, but also needy and desperate. Biting my lip in anticipation as he looks stares at my bare, wet pussy. Trying to close my thick thighs, my insecurities creeping into my mind. But he wasn’t having that. He grabbed my thighs and spread my legs.

“No, no.” He tsks. “Don’t you dare try to take this view away from me.” He all but growls. Leaning down and kissing me roughly, his tongue swiping over my bottom lip. I can’t help but groan softly, his hand squeezing at my waist, his other one beside my head, using it to support his weight above me. Lifting my hands up and threading my fingers through his hair, kissing him back just a feverishly.

I still couldn’t believe him of all people, Dean Winchester, liked me. This Greek God of a man, who’s the most amazing person I know. It makes no sense why he would want me. Especially considering the girls he usually goes for, the skinny, model looking ones. While I’m not “fat”, mostly because of hunting, I’m not thin either. I’ve got thunder thighs, a softer, squishy stomach, bigger breasts, and stretch marks.

Before I can get too lost in my thoughts and my overthinking, he trails his lips down my jaw. Sucking and nibbling as he goes. Arching my back into him. One of my hands trailing over his broad chest, his shirt thrown somewhere in the motel room along with my clothes. His hard on pressing against my lower stomach.

“Dean…” I whimper. His lips sucking at my collarbone. Tightening my grip on his hair. His every touch makes my skin tingle, my nerves alight as if I’m on fire.

He simply hums against my skin, smirking. Gliding his lips down my skin, to my breasts.

“God, look at these beautiful tits.” He groans. My face flushing. His calloused, strong hands on my breasts now as he squeezes at my flesh. Pushing them together, as he takes one of my nipples in his mouth. Sucking harshly. My back arching more into him as I moan loudly, bucking my hips. A rush of heat going straight to my core, wrapping my legs around his waist. Tweaking my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging softly once in a while. Sending a shudder down my spine. Twirling his tongue around my areola, then my nipple before sucking at it again. Once satisfied with the amount of attention given to one tit, he moves to the other, repeating the same thing while his hand groped and squeezes my other breast.

“Please, Dean.” I whine. I’ve got no clue what I’m asking for, just that I’m desperate for it. He chuckles lowly against my skin, sending vibrations through my body. Gliding his skilled mouth down my ribs and stomach. Littering my soft skin with kisses, as if trying to show that I’ve got nothing to be insecure about. My breath hitches when he moves down to my pelvis.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I ask shakily, breathless. Leaning up on my elbows.

“What it looks like.” He answers, still smirking. His strong hands holding my legs open, giving him access to my dripping cunt. “You trust me, right?” He checks. Wanting to make sure I am in fact ok with this and comfortable.

“Yes.” I answer without hesitation. Causing his smirk to morph into a full blown grin.

“You sure? You ok with me eating this pretty little pussy?” He teases. Making me clench around nothing.

“Yes… Please, Dean.” I whimper. My hand in his hair, tugging it slightly, making him growl in response. Sending another bolt of electricity down my spine and to my core.

He lifts my legs over his shoulders, kissing along my thighs sensually. Taking his time, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Getting more impatient, I start to squirm. Before I can complain, he licks a stripe between my folds. Letting out a shuddering moan, both my hands in his hair now, tugging at it harder. I’ve never felt so good.

“Fuck… You taste as good as I thought you would. Could spend the rest of my life like this.” He murmurs against me. Looking up at me with his beautiful green eyes, watching as I react. Wrapping his lips around my clit, sucking softly. Gasping and screwing my eyes shut.

“Eyes on me, baby.” He scolds, slapping my thigh lightly to get my attention. I jolt in surprise at the action, opening my eyes and looking down at him. My lips agape in silent moans, and my brows furrowed in pleasure. He then dived back into my pussy, eating me out like a starved man. Plunging his tongue into me, making my hips buck to get more. Moving his tongue to my clit, drawing lazy patterns on it. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s spelling his name, the notion making my heart flutter.

I gasp when I feel one of his fingers tracing my entrance. Mewling when he slides it in, rolling my hips. “Fuck, Dean!” I whimper. Feeling him curl it in just the right place.

“God, you’re so hot like this.” He praises. My pussy clenching around his finger, causing him to groan softly. “Been dreaming of this. Making you moan my name over and over ‘til you can’t take it. Of having this perfect pussy all to myself and show you just how fucking perfect you are.” He admits.

My eyes widen in shock, never having expected that. Feeling my stomach erupt in butterflies, my face flushing. I can’t believe he… God… I’m snapped out of my thoughts once again when he slides another finger in. Groaning at the mix of pain and pleasure as his thick fingers stretch me out. His tongue and lips still on my clit, doing wonders.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Wonder how you’ll take my cock.” He growls. Sending vibrations through my body, clenching around his digits. He slowly starts to pump them in and out, still lapping my clit with his tongue. Making dirty, sinful sounds that I should be embarrassed about, but can’t bring myself to care. Hearing him slurp against my cunt like it’s his favourite meal does things to me. My nerves on fire. He starts to pump them faster, harder, curling them once in a while and hitting my G-spot. That familiar heat growing in my belly.

“God- fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I warn. Arching my back more, grinding against his face and fingers. Tugging at his hair harder, gripping tighter. Throwing my head back in bliss.

“Do it. Cum on fingers like a good girl.” He encouraged. Sending me over the edge. My muscles tense, tightening my thighs around his head. Crying out his name, followed by profanities and praise. He keeps his fingers in, letting me ride out my high, still working his mouth over my sensitive clit. Slipping his fingers out and lapping up my juices, not missing a drop.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. Licking another stripe along my pussy. Then making his way back up my body, kissing me feverishly. Tasting myself on his lips but not caring.

“Dean…” I whimper pathetically. Trailing my hands down to his belt and unbuckling it.

“Someone’s impatient.” He teases, smirking. In retaliation I start to palm him through his jeans. Dean groans and grits his teeth. Dropping his forehead to my shoulder, peppering kisses over my skin. Quickly unbuttoning his pants and helping him tug them and his boxers down. Discarding the fabric with the rest of our clothes.

My eyes widening when I see how… well endowed he is. Wondering how the hell that’s gonna fit in me. Sensing my worry, he kisses me.

“I’ll go slow.” He promises. I nod, leaning up to kiss him again. Placing my hands on his broad shoulders, he lines up his cock. Looking into each other’s eyes as he slides in slowly. Gasping softly at the burn of him stretching me out. My breath getting caught in my throat. Resting my head against the pillows as I get used to his size. His hands on either side of my head, his muscles straining. Letting my eyes flutter closed.

“You can move…” I breathe out. Looking back up at him, seeing his jaw clenched, the vein in his neck bulging. Panting above me. Yet he doesn’t move just yet.

“Give me a minute, sweetheart…” He groans. “I move now, I’m gonna lose control and start pounding into you.” He huffs.

Feeling bold, I lean up again. “It’s ok. I trust you.” I whisper. Kissing his neck slowly. He moans and starts to move. Slowly at first, pulling back until only his tip his inside me. Then pushing back in. He does this only a couple times before picking up his pace. Slamming deep inside me and hitting my G-spot, making me cry out and moan. Digging my fingertips into the skin of his shoulders.

“Fuck… take my cock so well. So-… tight. Can feel you clenching around me…” he growls against my neck. Tilting his head down to watch as my tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. Moving his one hand to grab the headboard, his other grabbing my thigh and lifting to get a new angle. Making my eyes roll back in my head and practically scream his name. “Fuck, Dean!”

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” Deb encourages. Sucking at my neck as he pounds into me relentlessly.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” I plead, feeling that coil tighten in my stomach.

“Trust me, I have no plans on stopping.” He assures. Causing me to squeeze his cock again, making him moan.

“M’ gonna-… fuck… I’m so close…” I whimper. Screwing my eyes shut.

“Good girl. Make a mess all over my dick.” He grunts into my ear. Still panting and groaning above me. His permission making my climax crash over me. Seeing stars and my eyes rolling back. My body shaking with pleasure, raking my nails down his back. His thrusts stutter as he gets closer, moaning loudly as I finish.

“I’m gonna cum…” he warns.

“Fuck. Cum, Dean. I want you to cum inside me.” I whimper shakily. My words sending him over the edge, spilling into me and covering my walls with his spend. He collapses on top of me, though supporting most of his weight on his elbows as to not crush me. Kissing my neck, jaw, and then my lips. Moaning against his. The kiss slow and lazy.

He pulls away, pulling out of me. I whine at the loss of the feeling of him, feeling empty. Though he stays hovering above me. Both of our bodies covered in sweat, my hair sticking to my neck and forehead, both of us panting, hearts pounding. Looking up at him with a dazed grin.

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He breathes out. Wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in to kiss me again.

“I really like you, Dean.” I whisper softly.

“I really like you, too.” He grins.

[mochinomnoms]

The octo trio in general are just bbg

Octo trio poly though? Octo trio poly

Azul I think would have stretch marks

Floyd having liked to squeeze azul a lot when they were little and Azul was still a lil chubby bby

Nether of the tweels really liking how insecure Azul became about how he looks and both trying to help in their own ways

Floyd having learned a lot about cooking from azuls mom (my personal hc about where he learned)

Srry for the lack of jade im still learning about his character a bit more

-🐝

Octotrio indeed bbg (they could murder me) so real so real (they'd leave my body floating in the water)

Azul having stretch marks is very interesting to me, as it's probably a daily reminder of his past. I wonder how they'd show up in his merform tho.

I actually think the twins were little shits as kids and probably kinda mean to Azul for a short while. I don't think it's until after he started making contracts that they started to respect him a bit more. I imagine that somewhere during middle school, they crossed into that stupid “we're not friends, we're associates (they're totally friends)” relationship.

But chubby Azul was sooooo cute, :( Floyd whines about how he doesn't have something squishy to grab onto and Jade whine that he doesn't appreciate all the good food at his grasp now that he's dieting. Mama Ashengrotto is happy to feed and teach the twins all there is about cooking, which makes the Leech parents happy and regulars at her establishment.

The three parents have discussed the likeliness of Azul getting with one of the twins or both. Mama Leech has bets on Jade, Papa Leech has bets on Floyd, and Mama Ashengrotto is like 80% sure the three of them are already together but just don't realize it yet.

[sage-nebula]

Something I wonder about is whether Metal Sonic / Overlord calling Tails "unworthy child" will ever be followed up on.

On the one hand, this happened so long ago that it would almost feel weird to bring it up now. On the other, it's such a cutting, damnig criticism that throwing it in and then doing nothing with it feels like there was a story that was intended but cut. It's hard to believe this was just put in there for no reason.

A huge part of Tails' backstory is that he has always looked up to, and wanted to be a hero like, Sonic. And he has felt at times that he falls short of this. His theme from the Adventure games touches on this: "I wanna be strong, I wanna be trusted [. . .] I wanna be cool, I also wanna be like him / but that's not something I can do so easily." His arc in the Adventure games is about him becoming a hero in his own way. He saves Station Square in SA1, he throws (mecha) hands with Eggman in solo showdowns multiple times in SA2, the final time coming right after he's made to believe Eggman just killed Sonic right in front of him. (Which is why his treatment in Forces is so infuriating, but! This is not the post for that.) Tails doesn't have Sonic's strengths, but that's okay, because he has his own strengths that Sonic doesn't have, and his Adventure theme touches on this, too. "There are things only I can do."

But although Tails does become a hero in his own right, and has so much more confidence in his strengths now than he used to, I think he could still struggle with the thought that he's not enough sometimes. As much as I fucking hate what Forces did to him, this arc in the comics still does directly follow Forces, wherein Sonic was captured and Tails couldn't do anything to help him. What does that say about him? How does that make him feel? Is he good enough? Does he deserve to be at Sonic's side?

The use of the word "unworthy" is a deliberate one. Metal isn't calling Tails stupid, or weak, or slow, or anything else that could be an easily dismissable, shallow insult. He's calling him unworthy. He's saying, maybe you are smart, fast, or strong. Maybe you can build computers and pilot airships and maybe even crash one into me. But you are still not good enough. You are still an unworthy child. It's such a deliberate precision strike against Tails' insecurities. Metal wasn't just lashing out. He somehow knew just how to hurt Tails and he stabbed into that squishy weak spot with extreme prejudice.

And then . . . nothing ever came of it.

Of course, literally 2 pages later we had Sonic hyping Tails up:

So maybe that's why. Metal called him unworthy, but Sonic called what he did amazing. So . . . problem solved? I wouldn't think so, but I'm also not on the creative team for these comics, so 🤷‍♀️ If I was, Tails wouldn't be referred to as a "sidekick" in his cast blurb while everyone else gets to be called a hero (or heroine), lol.

But anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this. It's just something I was thinking about as I try to sleep despite my illness making that difficult.

[meowzfordayz]

THIRST TIME WITH V

(Note: Didn't realize you took Thirst submissions because I am a chronic MOBLE user and have yet to see all of your info pages. Forgive me if this is not what you meant by "Thirst". I'm just going off my current knowledge of tumblr lingo. Feel free to delete.) 

18+ Content

Let's start with Kanroji cuz she has been on my mind a lot lately.

Some random relationship HCs before I get into my feelings

You can not tell me this precious girl isn't going to worship your every breath. And she deserves the same appreciation.

Total "Love you like i'm going to lose you" vibes.

IF you have a praise kink in any capacity then she is a good match. Tell her how adorable she is everyday and she will instantly turn red and tell you that you are cuter. 

Is afraid she will smother you to death if you ask her to sit on your face. (Thicc thighs end lives, and I'm looking to die)

Many sweet good night pecks on the cheek, nose, and eyelids. *noises of smooching, noises of smooching, these are the noises of smooching*

One of those girlfirends that cares more about snacks than sex. (And I'm here for it)

Clearly has bottom energy, but prefers to be the big spoon.

Bath house & HotSprings dates or couples massage dates!

Gets really insecure if you don't ever hold her hand when walking.Those kinds of casual intimacies are very important to her. Though she will understand if you don't like participating while in public.

k so... I am so in love with her. Like SIMP levels. In a sensual platonic way mostly. She is so fucking sweet and enchanting. I'm not much of a romantic but I would do my best to make sure her romantic side is cared for in every way if she were mine. I want her to be my best friend and partner in crime too. Like, just let me braid her hair and tell her how beautiful her heart is while we watch stupid rom coms. I don't even like rom coms, but I know she will. And if she is in the mood to let me pick (which lets be honest she is the type of person that will offer the other person picks because she doesn't want to risk picking something they don't like) we can watch a cute slice of life anime and cuddle on the couch. I just want to talk about life, other partners, and Hashira drama with her. I want to bake with her and learn new recipies. I want to be a sweeter person in general when I think about her. And There is no hesitation in my will to buy her all the sakura mochi and dumplings she can eat either. I would rack up $30000 in credit card debt to please her.

She makes my heart expand in new ways every time I see her. And I no longer know how to handle those feelings. 

Here is a quick KNY lofi edit to listen to while reading. <3

https://youtu.be/7EutdfvNkTo 

Misturi Inspired playlist l really like <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-juOCFa_3oc 

ps: I just discovered the Rescue Ink biker gang and I have new goals in life now.

... months later (I read this when you first sent it 😁, but evidently took my sweet time actually answering it 💀) !! 🥳

I giggled so hard reading (and rereading) your random relationship headcanons. 🥺🥰 "these are the noises of smooching" 😂 and SNACKS 😋. In my snacks hcs, Mitsuri actually has a special lunchbox for you (that she keeps stocked w/ SNACKS). 😌 The overall softness I feel for this woman is softer than a squishy kitty, and lemme tell you how much I ADORE cats. 😻💖

The one and only one shot I've written for Mitsuri was essentially an ode (albeit, not a poem) to how generously and tenderly she deserves to be loved: hopeless romantic. 🫶🏽 HELL RAIN FIRE ON ANYONE UNWILLING TO HOLD HER BEAUTIFUL HAND. 😤 Ofc, if public discomfort is the issue, then compromises can be made, BUT OTHERWISE !! 😒😎

As for her thicc thighs ending lives... 🫠

18+NSFW below

"Are you sure?" Mitsuri hesitates, fingertips warm as they trace the curves of your collarbones.

"I'm sure," you huff, grip firm on her waist, licking your bottom lip, "Absolutely sure."

"But..." frowning now, "I'm-"

"You're what?" you interrupt, not unkindly, "Depriving me of your beautiful pussy?"

Her thighs clench at your forwardness, ass plush as she grinds lightly on your stomach, perched pretty and pouting atop your body.

Your tone softens, hands kneading slowly up her sides, carefully pulling her down till her tits press full and snug against your chest, her breaths melting sweetly into the crook of your neck, "Honey, you're not too heavy, nor are you going to hurt me."

"I get very invested," she admits, cheeks pink, nipples hardening as your embrace tightens.

"Good," you murmur, "I want you to be very invested," smirking, "I want you shaking and messy and noisy when you sit on my face," playfully smacking her ass, groan in your throat at its satisfying jiggle, her shy yelp following soon thereafter, "Can't wait to feel your gorgeous thighs suffocating me as I worship your beautiful pussy."

With a low whimper, Mitsuri allows you to coax her into position, giggling at how muffled you sound while guiding her, apologizing profusely when she accidentally knees your ear, squeaking loudly as you immediately swipe your tongue flat and languid across her folds.

Oh when you grab her ass, encouraging her to set her own rhythm.

Ah when you finally flick her clit, folds slick with spit, thighs quivering at the unexpected jolt of pleasure.

Shit when you keep your tongue out wet and steady, desire fuelling her movements as she begins chasing her orgasm, ignoring the dull ache in your jaw.

Fuck when you reach for her bouncing tits, nipples pinched, twisted, and tugged, eyes closed as pressure builds, thighs burning, desperate and frantic to Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop.

"Look at me, babygirl," almost inaudible as she moans eagerly, orgasm washing over her when she takes in the gleam of your stare, the heat of your tongue, nose glistening from her fervor.

—

"Told you I get invested," she whispers roughly.

"Mhmf."

Oops as she rolls off of you, laughter bubbling as you inhale deeply, arm already wrapping around her.

"Where're you going?" you demand fondly.

"Huh?" she smiles easily — entirely unaware.

"I'm not done with you."

Oh?

"I haven't even made you whimper my name yet."

[sadistic-softie]

Remembering that period of time in late highschool where I had recently come out as genderfluid and was also really desperately into fitness because of weight insecurity and my friends just completely reduced my personality to, "Silly dumbass himbo, he don't know nothin but exercise and horny" and called me stupid and a dumbass all the time in a serious way as if it was just equal of a fact as my eye color. It was mutually agreed among them that I was the "group idiot." Or "Child of the friend group"

I just kind of smiled and took it because I was the kind of person who never defended myself, never told anyone no, and always put everyone else before me in every way. I can't even be upset with them because I let it happen and keep happening and I never told them how it made me feel.

Also they were asking me flex for them a lot, which I hated doing because I was really insecure about my lack of muscle growth but I always just sucked it up and played myself up to make them leave me alone. I just had to live with it and laugh cuz I was a "squishy friendly softie" doormat who "never gets angry"

Also, the appointed "mom of the group" was where the most of this came from and it was always joked about how I would need to be babysat by them in any random circumstance because I "wouldn't be able to be left alone for too long"

"Of course you don't get it, you're a dumbass, remember?" "Aww. Big dumb himbo boy~" "Yes, honey, I know you're stupid, don't worry about it" "like...BRO, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY TO THAT ALL I COULD DO WAS LAUGH. They aren't my friends anymore tho lol.

[ajgrey9647]

i'm not letting you sleep on the floor + boom! comics mmpr; Bulk (I am not choosy about which version)

Nothing's What It Appears

The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and when push came to shove, when all the chips were down, Bulk discovered his true greatness. Though others often treated him as ‘stupid’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘obnoxious’, he was anything but those degrading adjectives. In retrospect, his atrocious behavior and commentary did nothing to persuade otherwise.

He could see that now, when such matters were the last thing on anyone’s mind.

Bulk always aspired to greatness or fame or heroism as if they were his birthrights. He wanted to be noticed, to stand out, to be special. Which he’d succeeded in doing, just not the way he envisioned in his fantasies. The bully often stared out the windows in the wide blue yonder, his brain galivanting off on magical quests where he, and he alone, was able to slay the monsters, rescue the fair damsel, and return to a parade of accolades and admiration.

His grades certainly suffered for it, though in actuality, Bulk was quite intelligent. He loved history even if he couldn’t say such a statement out loud. His friends would tease him mercilessly for being ‘nerdy’. Oddly enough, not one would dare make a pithy comment regarding the teen’s larger frame as they might a less terrifying individual.

That was one thing that Farkas was secretly ashamed of, his weight having been a touchy subject most of his life. As a child, he’d always carried a little more ‘cushioning’ as his mom called it and there was not a thing wrong with a squishy, pinchable little boy. His grandmother, when she came to visit on holidays, typically Thanksgiving and Christmas, when one was SUPPOSED to enjoy the abundance of delicious food, would look at her grandson and just shake her head.

“Mae, that child needs to go on a diet! He’s almost as big as a house!” she’d scold, while Bulk sat awkwardly at the table, dinner plate waiting before him. “How’s he ever supposed to…”

The pair would argue loudly, garnering the attention of everyone else present and the embarrassed Farkas would feel their eyes looking at him with disgust before surveying the contents and the amounts on his plate with judgement.

Even if he was absolutely starving, Bulk’s appetite would fly the coop and he’d quietly excuse himself from the table only to disappear to his room to sob in secret.

To his mother, food was love and sure, he loved to eat the food she prepared.

“Just for you, sweetie!” she’d coo.

The growing weight only exacerbated his insecurities, the type that most everyone suffered from in childhood. Even then, Bulk would spend hours pouring over his collection of comics, along with Skull, who couldn’t afford such frivolities. Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Iron Man, the Hulk… all sporting ripped abs and mountainous biceps.

‘Whoever heard of a fat superhero,’ Farkas glumly realized. ‘There’s no super cool suit to wear unless you’re built like a Greek statue…’

Skull would gamely pat his hand, at such times leaving his cheeky observations and wit on the back burner. He truly meant what he told Bulk and he meant it with reverence as someone of his particular build could be snapped like a twig.

“Don’t worry, Bulky! If any bad guys tried to take over, you’d could just sit on them! Smash ‘em into the dirt!”

That wasn’t the fighting style of his daydreams… and was certainly never depicted in the comics. Or movies.

Just cartoons and just for making fun of a character.

It was bullshit…

He was tired of being referred to as ‘fat ass’, husky, stout, ‘pig’ and a variety of other wounding descriptors.

Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out to be a hero. Maybe he didn’t deserve to stand out or be special…

When Tommy transferred to Angel Grove High, Bulk had attempted to assert his authority and put the surly teen in his place from the jump. Of course, that went over like a brick wall with the new student unleashing a torrent of curses and insults, may of which the bully had never even heard before.

“If you get in my face again, you fat tub of shit, I swear to all fuck that I will butcher you like they do pigs at market,” Oliver whispered, voice eerily growing calm and his eyes pooling creepy flood of black where Bulk had been sure they’d been hazel.

And this was all way before he’d gotten any possessed coin.

The fucking dick only continue to grow worse, a hateful, spiteful, unfeeling demon masquerading as human. Eventually, he’d sunk his fangs gums deep in Jason and his little cluster of dorks. Bulk thought the group of friends to be annoying and enjoyed pestering them, but this shit was off the charts.

Skull was sure that Tommy was a serial killer or would eventually become one, explaining to Bulk and their assorted crew that the other teen was seriously messed up in the head.

“Oliver’s the type to keep his victims locked in his basement until he tires of them,” Eugene whispered, glancing over as said teen stood at his locker, back to them. “And keep body parts as souvenirs. Stay the fuck away from him!”

The Skullovitch’s lived in the same neighborhood as the Oliver’s and the lanky teen shared with his best all the wild, crazy shit that went on over at their house: the abusive, loud alcoholic father, screeching, slutty looking mother, and Tommy giving as good as he got at times and at others blankly giving in to his punishments.

Every goddamn day it was something with that prick though…

Usually, Tommy would be swinging fists and brawling with Jason up and down the hall or he’d decide it was Zack’s turn to be his punching bag. Bulk was sure he was behind the rumor that Kimberly had been seen sucking Jason’s dick in the locker room at the Youth Center, landing both teens in the counselor’s office. He’d heard from Sharkie that Tommy had even tried to plant drugs in their lockers, but fortunately hadn’t been successful.

Even Matthew Cook tried to step in and intervene between this dervish and the other teens and ended up with a black eye, split lip, and a detention to show for it.

Bulk wished he were brave enough to throw Oliver into a locker, toss him in a trash can where he belonged. That was his new fantasy, throwing himself between that asshole and Jase and his pals. He’d bloody Tommy’s face and force him to apologize for his bullshit in front of everyone!

Oh, how he wished!

Then the day came that Skull, scrawny, boney-butt Skull, went one on one with the Green Ranger, saving the Blue Ranger from certain death by shoving the evil monster from the second floor of the mall. It had all been caught on tape and was played on the news for weeks.

Bulk crowed from the rooftops how proud he was of his best friend, and he truly was. He just wished he’d been there, been brave enough to do such a dumbass thing. Skull didn’t seem to like the attention all that much and shied away from the spotlight, something Farkas couldn’t understand.

But little did he know he’d get his chance to be a hero. He’d get more than one as would Eugene…

The time came when he and Skull saved Jason from Tommy’s punk-ass sneak attack at the Youth Center. Sure, they hadn’t went toe to toe with the nutty fuck, but he hadn’t gotten to Jase and that’s what mattered. The dark-haired teen wouldn’t discuss why he and Oliver were at odds and seemed shaken up that he’d been lying in wait for him.

However, it seemed that for no apparent reason Tommy eventually turned his wrath on Skull. And that was just not going down on Bulk’s watch.

Eugene had seemed more distant than usual, though he denied anything was amiss. Farkas had no way of knowing that the smaller boy had discovered the Rangers’ identities and had started a budding relationship with Billy, the Blue Ranger. Of course, Skull wanted to spend more and more time with his boyfriend, the pair meeting in secret and enjoying something that was just theirs.

That all changed when he discovered the bruise to Skull’s shoulder, left when Tommy paid him a visit, viciously shoving the smaller teen down in his own bedroom.

“Where the hell you’d get that battle wound, Ranger Rescuer,” Bulk teased, pointing to the dusky purple marring the pale skin.

“Ehhh… I dunno. Don’t remember.”

He was obviously lying, his grey eyes looking everywhere but his friend’s face. They were sitting in the lunchroom at school, the loud laughing and razzing of other students had nearly drowned out Skull’s lackluster response.

“Bullshit, buddy! Who hurt you? Cause I’m gonna beat the brakes off ‘em!”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bulky. I’m fine! Can we just drop it?” Eugene whimpered.

But Bulk caught Skull glancing in Oliver’s direction, the venomous asshole seated at a table on the far side of the room, alone of course.

“It was him, wasn’t it! He hurt you! What the fuck is his problem?”

Pushing back from the table, he was on fire now. Skull scrambled to grab Bulk’s leather jacket, trying to pull him back down, pleading for him not to go over there, it wasn’t fucking worth it!

“Nah, this shit has gone on long enough! He’s never putting hands on you again, Skull!”

But before he could make his way over to where Tommy sat, the long-haired teen, with no apparent reason or trigger, shoved away from his lunch, darted across the lunchroom, and began pummeling Jason, grabbing him from behind by his hair and yanking him backward off his stool. Jase hit the floor hard and his head bounced off the tile, leaving a bright red streak to Bulk’s horror.

Laying there, Jason could only attempt defensive techniques as Zack, Billy, Trini, and Kimberly ran around to jump on Tommy’s back.

Then here came Bulk, like a charging bull, steaming issuing from his nostrils as he too grabbed a handful of hair, twisting Tommy’s head and neck painfully and pulling hard. Long strands came away with a sickening ripping sound and the green clad teen shrieked in fury, hands going to his scalp and abandoning Jason’s blood-covered face.

The whole lunchroom erupted, some students screaming in fear, others cheering and whooping at Oliver finally getting a come-uppance. It took several teachers and Mr. Kaplan to put an end to the wild free-for-all and it didn’t escape their notice that ALL the blows were directed at Tommy. Of course, fighting was an automatic detention for everyone involved no matter their role.

Jason ended up going to the nurse’s office and from there his worried and angry parents picked him up and took him to the emergency room to get checked out. Tommy’s parents never even answered their phone, not for the school nor the Scotts, who were discussing pressing charges and getting protective orders.

Not that they had enough time for everything to progress at all.

A short time later, Jason destroyed the Sword of Darkness, Tommy made his vile decision, and monsters roamed the earth in numbers the Rangers were unable to manage. The city nearly emptied, as citizens fled in terror. But things got much, much worse….

Just when they thought they were turning a corner, close to gaining the upper hand, they were brutally disappointed, shocked into near catatonic states at the sight of a bloody, shattered red Tyranno helmet and the hateful asshole bedecked in new colors.

Bulk had been there that day, trying his best to gather everyone he could find, to get them somewhere safe. Skull was at his shoulder, his nimble frame crawling into crumbling buildings and nearly smashed flat vehicles, searching for survivors.  Trying to find a place to go, they’d ended up with ringside seats to Ascension Day (Ass-cention Day as Skull dubbed it later). Clearly, they’d taken a wrong turn.

“Rangers!” a voice boomed. “Take a look at what’s become of your precious leader!”

Holding the helmet before them, the others stared in disbelief, unable to defend themselves from a barrage of blows and strikes.

“Geez o’fuck, Bulky! Whoever that is killed the Red Ranger! We’re screwed!”

Bulk didn’t answer, watching this newest Ranger twirl as if on a runway in Milan. That voice was familiar.

“I know that voice, Skull!”

Now the floodgates opened. It didn’t matter anymore…

“It’s fucking Oliver, Bulk! That fucking dick motherfucker was the Green Ranger and now he’s… I don’t even fucking know! But Jason’s dead!” he screamed in anguish.

Neither teen nor anyone else noticed the group of putties carrying a severely injured, unconscious Jason Scott into a large transportation pod. It would be decades before the truth was revealed.

Once the dust had settled and he’d assured himself that all the people in his charge had been properly assessed and fed, did Bulk consider thinking about caring for his own needs. His grimy, tattered shirt clung to the sweat-sticky skin of his back, making him itch, and his was streaked with dark, sooty smudges. Mentally and physically he was drained.

Leaning against the wall in a darkened corridor, illuminated only by a small flashlight, Bulk finally allowed himself to cry. The tears tracked in smeary trickles down his full cheeks and hung suspended from lips and chin.

‘This can’t be happening. It can’t be real!’

The remaining Rangers were nestled in his care, carefully tucked into cots in a large conference room of the abandoned facility. They rarely spoke or even responded, so shocked and traumatized by the unexpected turn of events that they merely behaved like dolls or small frightened toddlers.

Besides Kimberly, who spit fire and venom, all the while still sobbing, threats and curses and promises of vengeance filling the air until she’d finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.

How could he have known the Power Rangers were so close? It all made sense now. Oliver’s vicious and unpredictable temperament, the other teens’ frequent disappearances, and unexplained injuries of the past. No wonder Tommy had been obsessing over Jason; the Green Ranger was out to murder the Red…

During the dangerous trek to safety, Skull confessed every damn thing and pleaded forgiveness. To which Bulk replied that was silly, of course he wasn’t angry or going to hold it against him. None of that meant jack-shit now. And his relationship with Billy wasn’t all that surprising, considering all the clues he’d glossed over in ignorance.

Now, Jason was dead, the Rangers near catatonic and almost without all the power coins, and that fucking dick bitch was hunting them down. How the fuck were they going to avoid him forever? There was no way!

“But he’s not getting the others, not no way, not no how! Or Eugene… He’ll have to go through me!” he hissed through his muffled cries.

‘Like that will be hard for him, doofus! He has two fucking coins and he took Jason out! How are you even the slightest threat to this ‘Lord Drakkon’?’

But he was determined to try.

Footsteps echoing down the hall caught his attention and he quickly ran his hands over his reddened, tear covered face, not caring that the darkness would hide most of the evidence.

“You alright, Bulky?”

Skull gingerly moved toward him, his flashlight bobbing as he walked.

“Why are you hiding out down here?”

Farkas sighed and sucked back a deluge of snot. His friend waited patiently, knowing the other teen needed time to process his scattered thoughts.

“Well, Skull, compared to everyone else, I’m fine. I got lucky, just a few minor cuts and bumps,” he grunted, pulling himself off the wall. “I just needed a minute to think. Like its going to make a damn bit of difference.”

“It might.”

“How? How is it going to change anything that’s happened?” Bulk suddenly yelled, unable to stifle his emotions any longer.

Skull spread his arms, the beam from the flashlight wildly arcing along the paint chipped walls.

“I’ll tell you how, buddy! It might make a difference for them,” he argued, pointing back along the hall towards where the survivors hunkered down. “So far, no one else has had grand ideas or has been capable of making a decision about one goddamn thing! Only you!”

The blonde hung his head as he listened to Eugene’s rant.

“Even the Rangers can’t do any of that right now! YOU gathered all of us, YOU got us around Fuckwad’s goons, YOU decided where we needed to get to and got us here, YOU even triaged and treated injuries, YOU cooked a massive meal, YOU, YOU, YOU!”

Wanting to shake the larger teen in annoyance, Skull hissed through clenched teeth.

“You are so BRAVE!”

At that, Bulk’s cheeks colored for a different reason.

“You really think I’m brave, Skully?” he whispered. “I’m no superhero, I don’t have special powers. I’m just a fat, loud-mouthed, smart-ass punk…”

“All that shit doesn’t matter to a hill of beans! Powers and secret identities and superheroes! Look what happened to our friends, the Rangers!” His voice dropped lest it carry back to the demoralized teens.

“Drakkon TOOK their special powers, he KILLED Jason, the goddamn Red fucking Power Ranger! He’s evil and crazy and he’s not going to stop until he gets all the other Rangers too! We’ve gotta be crazier and smarter than him, Bulk! Or we are all FUCKED!” Skull yelled, gripping Bulk’s shoulders now.

“We NEED someone like you, we’re counting on you!” he continued. “So, let’s go lick our wounds in private, then you and I will work together to get everyone as far from that psycho as possible.”

Stepping back, he noted the slumped shoulders and weary features just visible under the flashlight’s glow.

“But first, you have to get some rest, Bulk, or you’re gonna fall right over,” he decided. “Come on, this way.”

Taking his friend’s elbow, Eugene led the way to another room off the corridor. There was a bed with a small side table, a chest of drawers, and a hospital-style curtain divider.

“This is the last bed open and you’re taking it, pal.”

Bulk blinked, his green eyes scratchy with exhaustion and strain.

“What about you, Skull? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor!”

“Who said I was going to sleep?” Eugene asked, though it wasn’t a question. “Someone’s going to need to keep watch. I’ll grab my 40 winks later. Now get your ass in that bed and don’t sass me.”

“Alright, mom..” Bulk deadpanned, too tired to argue further.

Skull was right. About a lot of things really. And that wasn’t something he could normally claim as fact. Clearly the ramifications of Lord Drakkon’s birth and possession of not one, but two coins tied to this mysterious ‘Grid’ Skull described from he remembered of Billy’s explanation, were going to be vast and far reaching. He couldn’t verbalize it accurately, but Bulk could feel the very atmosphere, the ground beneath his feet, the air circulating the blue and green ball of mud, were twisting and writhing as if in death throes, gasping and grunting as all faded to nothingness.

[felinexwhispers]

Hi, I just came about your ORTHAEUS head-canons and the character sheet you made for them and I’m in love. Not sure if you’re up to pairing them up with a plus-size! or black! reader but I’d appreciate knowing more about your gentle giant.

Oh I would love to!! How about both? Everyone is welcome here ❤️

Pairing: Orthaeus x Black!Plus-sized! Reader

Warnings: None

- He's 7'2 and built like a brick wall so picking you up is no problem for him. He loves to carry you around and playfully nuzzle your cheeks and tell you how much he loves you.

- You're so soft he can't get enough of you. If he was an artist you'd be his muse. You're his queen, the love of his life, if he could he'd kiss you forever.

- He's the ultimate hype man if you're ever feeling down or insecure - because how dare you?? You're beautiful and pretty and your cute, squishy thighs make him want to eat you up (take that as you will ;) ).

- Also the ultimate protector! No one would dare to mess with you while knowing Orthaeus was your partner - unless they're stupid in which case he'll give them a hard earned lesson that might end with you having bandage his hands but that means you're touching him so he's not going to complain.

- He'd love to learn all about where your from and your culture and customs if you have any. And he'll log everything so he can incorporate it into his daily life to make you more comfortable!

- Would give you nicknames like "Sunshine" and "Chipmunk" because they remind him of you. If you don't like nicknames he'll keep them to himself but he's probably calling you Sunshine whenever he's thinking about you.

- Can't find the size you need in an outfit you like? No problem, he knows how to sew and he'll fix it right up for you! He might need you to model for him though, he wants to make it perfect ;)

Your color and body size ultimatly don't matter to him. He loves you wholely and completely no matter how you look. ❤️

[obligatory end card I have yet to set up]

[etoiile]

ami, ami, tell me more about your selfships, please. i love hearing/reading them ^^

RAHHHH noo i hope that you know this door cannot be closed once its been opened (｀ω´) ANYWAYS HERE WE GO

okok so my biggest one for blue lock is definitely REO. and here's why

reo lowkey has like attachment and abandonment issues (thanks nagi!!) and like .... ME TOO!! (cries in parental problems) so we'd both be like very attached to each other and wouldnt ever have to doubt if the other person loved us and much as we loved them. NO INSECURITIES YAY!!!

reo loves pampering people. its his love language. I LOVE BEING PAMPERED BC IT MAKES ME FEEL SO SPECIAL (again cries in parental problems lol my parents never made me feel special HAHAHA) (this post is actually js me trauma dumping)

reo is very perceptive to emotions and so am i ^^ im not too good with expressing how im feeling so having someone who can just tell is so nice

idk why but like i love being carried for some reason. AND REO CARRIES NAGI EVERYWHERE ITS PERF !!!!!

reo talks enough where i dont feel stupid for talking too much but he's also not too talkative which is good bc i love talking (clearly)

i am actually nagi 2.0. like i am nagi nagi is me. WE ARE THE SAME. im really lazy and clingy and unmotivated hehe and reo loves nagi so therefore reo loves me!!!!! (this is my delusion talking)

i think that reo really needs to feel like he's needed. and like. ME TOO BRO!!!!!! im good at making people feel like they mean a lot to me coz im very affectionate and i think that that's something that reo really needs

he's kind of a teasey flirt?? but like not too much where i'm like boy stfu like i dont want an f-boy but i think that like teasing is fun. idk he's just sassy and i think its cute ^^

reo is just so earnest and caring and un-judging, if that makes sense. im really sensitive and a crybaby, but he seems like the kind of guy to welcome me into his arms regardless of my flaws. (unlike sae no offense who's a judgy bitch. still love him tho!!)

reo is rich and my grades lately are looking like im gonna have to marry rich (´ε｀；)

the other ones are chigiri (a good listener but not TOO quiet, sweet and sassy which is fun, def has a better haircare routine than me) and nagi (because we're pretty similar)

ok. ONTO HAIKYUU!! (if ur wondering i have a ton of hq works sitting in my drafts lol. I PROMISE I'LL COME OUT WITH ONE SOON!!!) (jk no promises)

SUGA AND OSAMU AND SUNA. i'll keep these ones short coz i feel like ive made this too long alr lol

suga:

super sweet!! i cant deal with too much meanness (like tsukishima)

despite sweetness hes still super silly and sassy which is just fun

emotionally perceptive (like reo!!) put reasoning for why i need an emotionally perceptive guy above ^^

osamu:

shared love of food LOLL

i have a thing for twins idk why LOLOL. im sorry this is so random but it had to be said. i also like kaoru from ohshc. and like. my current irl crush is an identical twin. IDK WHY ITS LIKE THIS BUT IT IS HAHAHA (i think maybe its bcoz like between the two of them one is always more quiet/perceptive so i notice that?? idek bro)

quieter!! yes!!!!!!!

he would give the best hugs ever. like osamu is just so squishy and yes and he would give such good hugs!! (sobs in touch starved) (this is ur sign to make smth w/ a touch-starved s/o and tag me. im begging u.)

suna:

A FLIRT. i js think its fun

js super goofy

he seems like a really good listener

PERCEPTIVE!!!!!

im sorry this was so long i just couldn't stop yapping once i started lolol

[aunclesquishy]

I try not to vent on my blog so much nowadays but I feel like I need to put these thoughts somewhere altho this gets rly long and rambly

sometimes I feel like I let my Hyperfixations™️ become my Personality™️, which sucks bc like—and this next bit is gonna come out wrong bc I’ve retyped it several times—

I became obsessed w sex and my sexuality etc after getting The Talk bc I was so goddamn terrified and confused that I couldn’t stop thinking abt it (which I looking back I think is attributed to my ocd etc), and I spent my adolescence doing research etc in a ‘know thy enemy’ kinda way

and then once I more or less figured out my asexuality I still obsessed over it bc I was so relieved (and arguably still do but out of a mix of pride and insecurity), same goes for my previously crippling fear of intimacy—id been so averse to it basically forever (idk why), and simultaneously (tho unrelated) struggled w self-esteem/anxiety/depression, and once I overcame p much the biggest fear I had ever had, my confidence shot up and I guess I’ve been riding that high ever since (and I’m going back and forth between ‘yeah I did it I’m amazing’ and ‘jeez chill out it’s nbd’)

not to mention I got rly into Discourse™️ and that fucked up my sense of Idenity/Pride and ever since I’ve been trying to overcompensate and that’s why I always feel weird abt going to pride, at least beforehand, bc I feel like it’s just one more way for me to like... perform queerness? like ‘ofc I’m #queer, look at me, I go to pride, I’m on tumblr, I have The Look™️’ and now it’s hard to tell to tell what comes from pride and what comes from insecurity

and the unnerving thing is once I started taking Zoloft for intrusive thoughts of death etc, the thoughts abt sex etc went down too, so that... says smth, I think (like it was def intrusive thoughts as a teen so I was surprised it’d go down w meds even after I got over the fear)

and tumblr is basically pride month every month so it’s hard to be like ‘k break time’

plus also as I’ve been trying to improve my Spanish, working in a mostly Hispanic community w mostly Hispanic coworkers, plus like idk, being out in the world and being aware of shit? and having grown up p sheltered in a mostly white/liberal (~I don’t see color~ vibes) environment in the 90s/00s (or maybe it’s just bc I was a kid/teen) it’s weird how different things are and how... aware of everything u have to b? (and I know this sounds like ‘u can’t say anything anymore w/out offending someone’ but it’s not quite what I mean...? Like I mentioned before, this is gonna poorly-worded) I’m not saying things were better before, just that overall at least growing up p privileged things were more... neutral? (again, I was a p sheltered kid so I was also just plain unaware) (this is v hard to explain and this post is hella long so whatevs)

I feel like every time I’m like ‘hey let’s get tacos’ or reblog a queer meme or reblog smth abt social justice anything that it comes from a place of ‘HEY DID YOU FORGET IM QUEER AND MEXICAN? CAUSE I AM, LOOK HOW QUEER AND MEXICAN I AM IN CASE YOU FORGOT BC THATS ME, IS THAT NOT OBVIOUS, THATS ALL THERE IS TO ME’

and I think it somewhat stems from adhd hyperfocus and ocd obsession and whatever the fuck else and abt other ppl but it rly annoys me

then again I’m not super abt my gender/sexuality to most ppl but boy howdy will I jump at the chance to talk abt it bc I love talking abt myself (which is also why if I’m not careful I’ll use my friends as therapists)

on top of that add how easy/comfortable it is for me to sink into like, making myself a victim and/or craving validation, so it makes sense that I would post smth like this for validity points

TLDR: I’m a big coward and def overthinking this and I need to get over myself bc I’m rly annoying myself

[stray-kids-react]

Shy s/o doesn't think they deserve them

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° He loved your shy personality, he just wanted to cuddle and praise you all day long. Even though you are a naturally soft person, that also comes with a lot of insecurities.

° Your boyfriend is a hot aussie leader with a heart of gold who fans call daddy, you can't but feel that you don't deserve such a God like boyfriend. And he can see it bothers you.

° Chan is a sweet heart who will check in on you as often as he can even with his busy schedule, he knows having an idol boyfriend can be stressful and he wants to comfort you.

° Felix was baking brownies, which you usually helped him out with even if it is just to cheer him on as he does his thing. But both of the aussies noticed your missing presence.

° Chan waltzed up to his studio, where you often hung around when you were at the dorms. Once he walked inside he noticed your figure curled up in a chair.

° You were scrolling through some messages that were sent to you via Instagram. None of the messages were pleasant, and Chan's heart broke as he read the truly gruesome ones.

"Maybe they are right. Maybe I don't deserve you." you sighed, slumping back.

"Don't say that, you are a beautiful person inside and out who I couldn't survive without." He reassured, taking your phone away as he cuddled into you.

Lee Know

° Minho always liked you since you first met during the shoot of hellevator. He was pretty obvious with his fondness of you, but you never believed that he could like you.

° Later on once you began dating, he soon realized how low your self confidence truly was. So he made a promise to himself to try and increase it as much as he can.

° Many fans would threaten you for 'taking Minho away', but Minho would shred the letters before you could see how many there truly were. He knew it would hurt you.

° Minho is very affectionate towards you and likes to show you his love through touch. Whenever you seem down, he will cover your face in small pecks until you begin to smile.

° Has seen how come fans and staff treat you, pushing you around and telling you that you aren't worth his time. Minho took it into his own hands and protected you from them.

° He doesn't like seeing you upset or feel like a burden to him, especially since you are so special to him. Minho asked Chan and JYP if he could take at least a week off, they said yes.

"You didn't have to take a week off just for me, I am okay with your schedule." You explained, ruffling his hair.

"I know you're okay with it, but I needed to get away just for a while. And I miss you everytime you're not with me." He replied, gently placing a kiss to your head.

Changbin

° Will do anything to make you see for at least a second how important you truly are to him, he usually sends you hearts and does an adorable aegyo voice when talking to you.

° When you first began to hang out, you were very distant and almost never said a word. Changbin wanted to get to know you, so he constantly made efforts to befriend you.

° Once you opened up you Changbin, he noticed how self conscious and self critical you were of yourself. His confusion as to why you hate yourself only grew stronger.

° Every morning when you both get out of the shower, he will stand you in front of the mirror and poke every feature on your body saying that it is gorgeous and perfect.

° Likes knowing that you feel comfortable around him and that you have him to go to when you are feeling down. He wants to always be there for you and support you.

° Won't admit it to you, but he once teared up while you were asleep because he picked up a hate letter that was directed at you and he was worried that you read it.

"Your eyes, stunning. Your tummy, adorable. Your ears, cute. Your lips, kiss able. Your butt, squishy. Your shoulders, gorgeous..."

"Binnie you have five minutes before dance practice, you should really get going now."

Hyunjin

° Hyunjin is known to be a visual God in all of kpop, even though he is also VERY talented. Many people have a crush on Hyunjin, and you happened to be one of the many.

° His personality was addictive to be around, his looks were God like, and his talent was insane. Thus making it harder and harder for you to see how much he truly adored you.

° You saw yourself on totally different levels, you alwere at a ten while he was in the thousands. Your thoughts always doubting a scenario where you two would date.

° Assuming Hyunjin was just being nice to you, it became very hard for Hyunjin to clue you into that fact that he liked you. Everyone knew this except for you it seemed.

° Jisung, being a close friend to both Hyunjin and yourself. Took it upon himself to try and arrange a way for you to not be so self critical and completely oblivious.

° The next afternoon, you walked into the dance practice room which was now turned into a full on romantic dining area. Shocked as you saw Hyunjin with a rose in his hand.

"Is this for me? It can't be... There must be some sort of mistake or-"

"No mistakes, I've liked you for a while and thought I was being obvious enough. But Jisung told me that I should simply confess."

Han

° You and Jisung have been dating for a while, and you watched proudly as Stray Kids gained more and more popularity as they deserved, since they are talented kings.

° The hate comments sent towards you, and the jealous fans or occasionally staff members and idols. Those never used to bother you, but they became more frequent.

° This slowly picked away at your already small amount of confidence, over thinking everything you do or ever did. And Jisung began to notice your distressed state.

° After a performance he went up to you back stage and leaned in for a kiss, when you barely responded to it and looked around the room nervously, his heart twisted sadly.

° Jisung took you to an unoccupied dressing room, and locked the door behind you. He cupped your cheeks gently as he rested his head against yours. A small sigh escaping him.

° You felt all of the built up sadness and anger rise out of you, as tears slowly sprinkled down your cheeks. Your hands clinging onto his back as he embraced you.

"Shh shh shh, it's okay. Just let it all out, it'll be okay. I'm here for you, you know that."

"I'm sorry, I just felt like I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have been so distant, their words just really hurt."

Felix

° Felix knew it was going to be a bumpy ride seeing as he is under a huge company and his band is very popular, but he was willing to go through all of that with you.

° You and Felix were best friends before you started dating, he knew you were shy and quite distant when it came to people. He started to find it cute after a couple years.

° JYP himself has criticised you for interfering with his idols's lives. Even though you didn't interfere and honestly helped Felix calm down throughout the schedules.

° Felix was disappointed by some fo the fan's toxic behavior towards you, knowing that those types of comments will stick with you for quite sometime. You made him happy and he wished others would see that.

° The other members and artists under JYP saw you as part of the big jyp family, but even their support couldn't stop the sadness that brewed as more hate letters were sent.

° You didn't want to stress your already overworked boyfriend, so you tried to find a quiet spot to cry in. But Felix knew you too well, and knew where you would hide.

"I'm okay Lix, I don't want to stress you out since your already on a hectic schedule today. I'll be fine I swear."

"I won't leave until I know for a fact that you are okay, the practice can wait. You need me right now and I'm going to be here for you."

Seungmin

(He looks so cute! I couldn't help myself lol)

° You were also a beloved idol, and many eoopel actually found your relationship with Seungmin quite adorable. You felt lucky that there wasn't so much hate directed at you.

° Even though you both seemed to have it easy compared to other idol couples, you couldn't help but feel insecure when Seungmin treated you like a queen/king.

° Many fans of yours knew that off stage you are an adorable shy bean, but no one except for Seungmin knew why you would become so shy and distant towards others.

° Your shyness came from extreme anxiety and self image issues. You never had much confidence, and Seungmin made many goals to try and bring your confidence up.

° One day after a hard performance, you sat in front of your dressing room mirror and let your tears slide down your cheeks silently. Letting your anxiety take over everything.

° Seungmin walked in with a box of celebration cupcakes, only to have hsi smile fade once he saw the tears rushing down your features. He felt his heart sink.

"I'm sorry Seungmin. It's stupid really, but I just don't feel like I deserve you."

"Y/n, we are perfect for each other. I spoil you with love and affection because you always make me feel special and loved."

Jeongin

° You knew how beloved Jeongin was, by fans, members, idols, netizens, family... Everyone. This sent a large amount of pressure towards you once you began dating.

°Jeongin loved your quiet and calm personality, it was a nice break from the loud JYP building and Stray Kids dorms. Your shyness is what attracted him to you.

° He liked cuddling with you in your apartment, talking about nothing and everything as a random movie played in the background. It was his favorite place to be.

° You both were open with anything that was bothering you and never let something stir inside of you for too long. He wanted to be your safe haven for when you need one.

° One weekend when he was staying at your place, he noticed you seemed more quiet than usual and asked you what was bothering you. Since something clearly was.

° You snuggled into his chest as you clung onto him tighter, sighing in defeat knowing you will have to admit your feelings even though you think they seem silly.

" I feel like I don't deserve you. I mean, you are Yang Jeongin a literal angel."

"You deserve the universe and everything in it, I love you and only you. Don't put yourself down, remember how much I care about you."

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[recklessmark]

I heard ur requests are open 😊 can i get some idol!mark angst wherein he accidentally met with his photographer!ex through a shoot 😊😊😊 pls make me cry 😅😂 thank you for all the wonderful mark ficsss

words count: 1.3k

a/n: i wrote this at 1 in the morning lol i couldn’t sleep and this wasn’t really giving off misery but i hope you like it!

you shove the last piece of your hamburger into your mouth, chewing it aggressively while fasten your steps. you were on your way to have your lunch when the studio suddenly called you for an urgent photoshoot which you have to make an appearance in 20 minutes. your schedule is clear today and thanks to your coworker and his illness, you had mc donald for lunch and couldn’t even enjoy your food thoroughly.

you stop in front of the restroom to throw the piece of trash on your hand into the bin when some voice catches your attention.

no actually it’s a laugh, a very contagious laugh that you’re familiar with.

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, no one other than your most handsome ex ever, mark lee.

if you have a chance to make an index of the most regrettable things you’ve ever done before you die, breaking up with mark will come first.

you wipe your sweating palms on the sides of your jeans when footsteps approach you, along with the sound of him talking echoing into the wall. instantly, you rush into the restroom and close the door, still, remain a tiny gap that you can peek through. people always say that vision is more trustworthy than hearing, you can lie both way, though, it’s a different story. the biggest question you’re currently having on your mind is mark’s presence at the studio. you want to poke your eyes right away when you see his figure passes by through the gap on the door. not every information we adopt from our hearing should be verified by our eyes.

why is he here?!

however you have no time to speculate about the reasons and his purposes as your ringtone blares out of the blue. you hold your breath in and slowly shut the door since mark’s eyes just fly on your direction. hearing footsteps fading away, you sigh and answer your phone.

“what?”

you don’t know who you’re trying to hide from but you’re practically whispering.

“where are you?”

“in the restroom.”

“the shoot starts in five minutes, hurry up.”

“alright.”

you hang up the call and shove your phone back into your pocket. you groan and brush your hair backward. the fact that you’re going to be late doesn’t irritate to as much as how you’re gonna walk around this place without bumping into mark.

being an dramatic overthinker you are, you’re two minutes late on set that you don’t have time to take a look at who you’re working with. you hang the strap of the camera around your neck and idly tap your fingers on the wide desk which is furnished by three computer screens, waiting for the artist.

just as you let out a breath in relief since you didn’t meet mark on your way, the door flings opened, revealing the least person you want to see.

mark lee.

cliché as it sounds but it’s your fate and you can’t pretend to have a seizure and cancel the shoot now, perhaps you can choke yourself.

you notice the astonishment on mark’s face when he sees you either, however he’s quick to cover it. certainly he’s a celebrity, professionalism is prioritized in any scenarios. and that’s what you found yourself struggle with when you were in a relationship with him. he’s too good at hiding his feelings that you couldn’t distinguish whether he’s honest or it’s untruthful. although you knew mark never lied and he was serious with your relationship, you still couldn’t ease the doubt deep inside your mind. it’s your fault that you ruined everything, you broke him completely so whenever you see mark, there’s a pool of guilt bubbling inside your chest.

you glance away and mark scratches the back of his head when the silence is broken by the noises of the staffs as they prepare for the photoshoot.

this is not the first time you worked with mark. nevertheless, his efficiency when it comes to work never fails to impress you. and he never fails to distract you with his dazzling charm either. suave, divine, glorious there’s no such a word that could precisely describe him.

neither of you start a conversation during the shoot, you don’t even know what you’re supposed to discuss about. therefore keeping your mouth shut to avoid any possible stupid utterance is probably the best option.

everything went well, no such incidents happened and you’re extremely satisfied with the results. you take out the memory stick from your camera and connect it with your laptop. while reviewing the images, his face reminds you of the embarrassing memories you wish never happed.

mark had a condensed schedule, he debuted with superm last year and it worsened the situation. with the nature of either your and his career, you didn’t have much time for each other. basically keeping in touch only by messages and calls, occasionally got to see your partner when you had a chance to work with him. no dates, no private time. both of you had to work with a variety of different people, it’s like a competition that who’s more insecure will lose. and your petty insecurities outweighed your faith and trust in mark.

mark was doing everything to keep you, sending you encouraging and reassuring messages, calling you every night and spending time with you even for a second if that’s all he got. but it didn’t stop you and your most-ever stupid decision, breaking up with mark.

you remembered how depressed mark was. he lost weight, his cheekbones became more prominent and he couldn’t focus on anything. you was dazed when you saw mark on a music show with his dark eye bags and tedious face. there was a night he called you, apparently intoxicated. he was just crying, sobbing, telling you how much he loved you and then cried himself to sleep. you were laying on your bed, balling your eyes out and listening to his emotional speech through the speaker of your phone. and when he’s finally asleep, you still didn’t hang up the call, hugging the watermelon squishy he gave you for your birthday and crying your eyes out.

all of a sudden, your phone rings out loud, cutting your memorial flashback. you frown at the strange number, debating whether you should pick up or not. this better not be some creeps messing with you at 10 in the evening. your thumb swipes on the screen and you bring your phone up to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n...”

“mark?” you ask in confusion, more like confirmation. you don’t reckon it’s someone mimicking his voice.

“yeah.”

your brows furrow tighter, ‘yeah’?, he calls you and says nothing except of your name and yeah...

“what is it mark?”

“nothing. i just miss your voice.”

sir literally saw me two hours ago and chose to keep silent.

“what are you doing?” he asks. you can’t hear anything but nonchalance in his voice.

“uhm...editing your photos.”

your eyes flit on your laptop again, which already go black and you hit your keyboard to activate it again.

“mark...”

“yes?”

“i’m sorry...” you whisper, trying to cover your shaky voice as your eyes watering. you don’t remember when was the last time you got to hear him calling your name.

“for what?” he asks quietly.

“everything.”

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks again, tears run down your cheek. “don’t be, i just hope you’re doing well, can you do it for me?”

you nod furiously and then realize that mark can’t see so you say into the phone instead, “yes i will, you should stay healthy too, don’t stay up late.”

“i know, i’ll see you again alright? goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

you ring off the call and put your phone aside. your hands wipe the tears on your cheeks and your lashes away, staring at the photo displaying in the screen, your vision becomes blurry again.

he’s probably moved on.

you’ve lost him, you’ve lost mark.

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

oh my bad, i didn’t see you didnt write for atsumu or sakusa. can you do the same headcanons (s/o who’s smol and fragile) but with kuroo, bokuto, and oikawa? if possible, i would still like to see these headcanons with atsumu and sakusa <333

hey hey hey anon!! ty for the requests :)

I think this is such a cute idea (´♡‿♡`)

I just started watching S4 soo I'll save your other request for atsumu and sakusa in my inbox and get to that once I'm done!!

in the meantime, I hope you enjoy some of my favorite captains <3

btw sorry it’s definitely not my best, I was having major writers block so this is basically all I could manage :(

•Kuroo, Bokuto, and Oikawa w/ a Small and Fragile S/O•

warnings: none

genre: fluff

characters: kuroo, bokuto, + oikawa

•Kuroo•

Kuroo had teased you about your height ever since the two of you had become friends

it was his way of playful flirting, harmless really

“Ah, hey there chibi-chan, still need help with that chem assignment.”

“I thought I told you to quit calling me that.”

“Aw, but it suits you.”

It was all harmless until he began to actually fall for you 

the way your laugher erupted through the air at one of his stupid chemistry jokes or how you would never fail to flash a pretty smile and throw him a wave whenever you two were near

every single thing about you drew him in and he just had to make you his, so that’s exactly what he did you said yes obviously

even though he spent quite a bit of time with you before making things official, he never realized how prone to injury you were

seriously you got hurt so often it was crazy

at first he thought it was just bad luck until he noticed that you collided with the majority of things that were in your path

it was actually quite entertaining to him a lot of the time, but even if he let out a chuckle he would always take care of you

didn't matter if it was him grabbing the first aid kit from the gym or keeping you company in the nurses office while you got checked out

as much as he loved to tease you for everything, he was always right by your side 

even though he put on a calm and collected front, he got worried every time you got hurt

it didn’t matter how minor or major the injury was, he just wanted to make sure you were okay

he was always making sure you were taking care of yourself too

making sure you ate and drank water and took care of your injuries when needed

sometimes he’d even tease you by buying you a carton of milk and claiming that you needed it for bone growth

he definitely could be a huge pain sometimes, but it always brought a smile to your face

with your height differences, his favorite thing was to pick you up by your waist, hold you up high, and spin you around

he didn’t care who was watching, all that he was focused on in that moment was the lovely smile stitched on your face

he loved to lean down when you were standing around or talking with someone and rest his chin on your head and wrap his arms lightly around your neck

this was especially common when he noticed someone else trying to flirt with you, a piercing gaze followed as well in these situations

if anyone tried to tease you about your height he would pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and run the opposite direction hey problem solved

as much as he teased you himself, he was always making sure to let you know how much he loved you just the way you were

he always eased you insecurities and whispered compliment after compliment in your ear when you were down

he was your #1 hype man no matter the time

he truly saw you as perfect and he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life letting you know

•Bokuto•

when you and bokuto first met, he was very upfront about your height

"HEY HEY HEY! Wow, you're super tiny!”

cue your pouting

bokuto noticed your change of expression and quickly saved himself

“OH! No no, not in a bad way, like a cute way, you know? Tiny and squishy!”

cue him pinching your cheeks like an old lady

Akaashi ended up dragging him back to practice but not before he turned your cheeks bright red, from the excessive pinching and his comments

after that incident, you saw bokuto a lot more

usually due to you bumping into him in between classes

you didn’t mean to but he was just so tall and you were just so clumsy

those situations usually ended with you both apologizing profusely to each other while bokuto walked you to the nurses office

overtime, you two grew closer and closer and eventually made things official 

despite all the energy he had, he was always very gentle with you

he knew he could get a little much at times and with how easily you got injured he wanted to make sure he was never the one causing you pain

his touch was always very soft and loving, allowing you to feel just how much he cared

since you would get hurt so often he would always carry bandaids in his school bag they had little hearts on them

he would drop anything he was doing and sit you down to place a bandaid and a kiss wherever the damage was

“There you go, Dr. Bokuto is always at your service Y/N.”

“Thank you Bo.”

if it was something more intense he would walk you to the nurse’s office, hair drooping and tears in his eyes

he honestly hated seeing you hurt or in pain

if he could, he would take away any and all of your discomfort

he just wanted to see you smiling, that was his favorite look on you

no matter how much you would tell him you were okay he still would not leave your side until you got fully cleared by the nurse and the rest of the day he would be clinging to you with a pout stitched on his face

he adored the height difference between you two

your small hand fit perfectly in his and the was your tiny figure molded into his when you two cuddled felt right

he knew that sometimes you could get a little insecure

he never really understood why you couldn't see yourself how he saw you but that didn't prevent him from bring you up and letting you know exactly how he saw you

he truly saw you as the most flawless person he’s ever seen

compliments were always followed up by a lot of hugs and kisses

he always felt like you deserved to feel like you were on top of the world so giving you piggy back rides or letting you sit on his shoulders was his favorite thing to do

he never missed the laughter that escaped your lips when he would pick up speed definitely his favorite sound ever

his main goal was to protect you from anything and everything and make sure you were loved

and he succeeded with that each and every day

•Oikawa•

oikawa had had a thing for you since middle school

you never really thought much of the way he would act towards you due to his high popularity

honestly, you just thought he was being polite

that was until he asked you out your first year of high school

ever since then you became aoba johsai’s power couple

you didn't really care about titles though, all that mattered was that you and oikawa were happy

and contrary to popular belief, oikawa was a really great boyfriend

he never failed to make you feel appreciated and cherished

he honestly just couldn’t believe he was with someone so perfect, and honestly the blush that spread across your cheeks was just too cute to pass up

this didn't excuse you from oikawa’s teasing, your height being a main target

“Y/N-chan, mind if I rest my arm here, it’s so tired from practice”

“Tooru, get your gross, sweaty arm off my head.”

“Ahh so mean baby.”

although he never missed the opportunity to rile you up about you height, he always recognized when to stop and followed it up with a bunch of compliments

he knew it could be an insecurity of your sometimes and he would never dream of making you feel less then perfect

if any of his fan girls tried to mention something involving your height, he didn’t hesitate to confront them

occasionally going the extra mile and pulling you into a loving kiss right in front of them

he didn’t care if they stopped supporting him, he had you by his side and that was more then enough 

although you usually got hurt quite often, that all stopped when you started dating oikawa

you honestly couldn’t believe it at first

all the scratches, scars, and bruises that frequently littered your body and slowly healed over time and no new ones took their place

you could not wrap your head around how he managed to do it

he was very observant and almost had this sixth sense when it came to you and your injuries

usually catching you before you fell, pulling you out of the way of something, or grabbing something and moving it away before it could cause you harm

you were practically like a small child he had to watch

he always followed up his smooth movements with a flirty remark

“Ah ah ah, you have to be more careful Y/N-chan, I'm the only one you should be falling for.”

although he loved spending any moment with you, his favorite memories had to be watching you in the stands during one of his games, cheering for him

his jersey was so big on you, he found it so adorable it always smelled like you when you returned it which was a huge plus

his favorite thing to do during games was throw you a wink before each serve he did, watching you laugh and wink right back

he always played his best when you were there

watching you from the court made him fall in love with you all over again

you were his world and he would make it his top priority to remind you of that each and every day

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••