#fluff with tiny angst

[iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant]

little collection of my brain tangles, relating to my OCs that I previously abandoned… part 2

Wow, I wrote again. Who would have thunk it. Just an fyi these posts aren’t connected beyond they have my oc’s in them. This is just my one shots for my oc’s basically. Anyways on with the fic. Hopefully this one won’t be neglected like part 1…. Hopefully.

TW: swearing, gay, sickness, coughing, brief mention of parental induced mental trauma and neglect, one sneeze (I’m sorry, my brain isn’t braining on the sneeze stuff idk why it just wants to write fluff and angst…)

———————————————————————

Knox woke up with scratchy throat. Nothing to horrible. It could be put to ease with sips of water though out his day. It wasn’t an inconvenience, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t pay much mind to it. That was then. Now it’s now. And his throat hurts. It takes up all of his focus, he coughing constantly and he can feel the beginnings of an itch in his sinuses. Least to say, Knox was not having a good time. He didn’t particularly want to go to the doctors, it took a long time, most the time nothing was really wrong with him, it was a long drive, sitting in the germ infested lobby probably would only give him more illness. But he would go if he needed to. With that in mind, he wondered out into the living room. There he spotted Mackie.

“Ma-” he immediately starts to cough and hack, doing so into the cuff of his sleeve.

“Mackie” he finishes, his voice so scratchy Mackie could hear his pain. Between the hacking coughs and the pitiful state of his roommate, Knox had all his attention.

“Yeah?” Mackie questions.

“Can you look at my tonsils?” Knox’s chokes out.

“Sure, come’er” Mackie says, using his soft voice that is reserved for vulnerable matters alone.

Knox nodes and stumbles up to the couch where Mackie’s sitting. Tiredly he sits down beside him. 

“Come on, lay your head down bub.” Mackie coos gently, patting his lap. 

Knox hums in response and lays down on the couch, head resting on Mackie’s lap. 

“Say ‘ahhh’” Mackie whispers fondly, looking down at him with a soft smile.

Knox’s starts too. Then his breath hitches and he turns his head to the left so he’s facing away from Mackie. He hitches for about a minute, Mackie waiting patiently. But the sneeze never comes. After a minute or so, Knox tentatively moves his head so he’s facing upwards once again. Then he opens his mouth for Mackie to take a look.

Mackie, not saying a word but understanding, leans over Knox and looks down his throat. Sure enough, his tonsils are swollen and inflamed. 

“Poor thing…” Mackie coos, stroking his head.

“You ought to go to the doctor.” Mackie adds, a certain gentleness in his voice. 

Knox turns his head to look at Mackie

“Yeah-” Knox starts but the once forgotten sneeze rears it’s head all of a sudden. 

“Hurrshchu!” Knox snaps forward with a sneeze, right into Mackie’s uncovered belly, having been wearing only his binder.

“Shit. Sorry.” Knox mumbles, sounding disappointed in himself.

“I didn’t mean too-” but he’s cut off.

“Aww, it’s alright. Your sick, it’s to be expected. I just want you feeling better.” Mackie interrupts.

“Now, how about I call you in a doctors appointment. Then I’ll drive you there. That sound good?” 

All Knox could do is nod his head as tears well up in his eyes. He hadn’t ever been taken care of like this. From the time he turned 10 Knox had been expected to do things for himself because he’s a man. 

Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was just a freak occurrence. But Knox let a few tears slip as Mackie called and made an appointment for him. 

The soonest he could go was tomorrow morning, so Knox began to get up and go to his room. Mackie had other plans.  He looped his arm around Knox waist and pulled him back down.

“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just cry then expect me not to cuddle you.” Mackie says with a grin.

Knox wanted to say so many words of thanks but his throat wouldn’t allow it. So he just nods and sinks back into Mackie.

 Not long later Asher and Vex get home from their separate work places. 

“Wha??? Cuddles without me? How dare. Move your feet, I’m joining.” Asher announces. 

“I’m sick” Knox’s warns.

“That doesn’t mean you can pick your feet up for two seconds so I can sit down.” Asher say with a smile. Knox giggles lightly, the giggles quickly turning into coughs. Once he’s done coughing and laughing, he picks his feet up and Asher slips under him. Now Knox is laying on top of the both of them, feet in Asher’s lap where he teasingly tickles him, head in Mackie’s lap where he plays with his hair. And where’s Vex in all this? He’s in the kitchen, scrolling through Walmarts app and preemptively buying soups for when they all inevitably get sick.

[puddingforg]

FINALLY Finished this darn comic, I do kinda like how it turned out, the comic is inspired by @krackenwl post abt turning giant panic!

(CHECK THE REPOST BCS THERE ARE MORE SCENES THAT DIDN’T FIT HERE‼️‼️)

I apologize for the artstyle change, I started this on march and then picked up again in August, hence the change, anyways I hope y’all like it and let me know if y’all would like a part 2 ^^!

Btw the characters here are my ocs Hunter and Owen :)

[suzyandthefox]

G/t is so beautiful because wdym I'm the size of your thumb and you can barely feel my existence around you yet you love me more than anything and everything? To the point where you would change your lifestyle,your habits, your speech patterns, just to make me feel safe and comfortable with you? Because you have genuine feelings for me and you see me as an equal?

G/t is so beautiful because wdym I'm fourty times bigger than you and you can't even look me in the eyes without trembling yet you defy your fear and your anxiety and all odds just so you can talk to me? Wdym you are going to sacrifice things and do leaps of faith just so you can tell me that you love me and you wish to be with me forever?

G/t is so beautiful because

Wdym you're risking everything for me?

Wdym I'm that important to you?

And why are you the first person that made me feel this way?

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

It was purely a coincidence when Toji pulled up right next to your car at the red light.

God, he hates traffic. It was the bane of his existence. On the highway people just drove like fucking idiots, and Toji was never one to back away from a challenge. You want to flip him the bird? He will flip you two. You want to try and race him? He will gladly leave you in the dust. It didn't help that he rode on his motorcycle more than his truck. It was as if people felt the need to anger him more when he was on his bike.

So yeah, he was already in a grumpy mood when he pulled up to that red light. He groaned as he leaned back in his seat and interlocked his fingers, popping them with a slightl stretch. His knuckles had been white on the handles ever since that old lady flipped him off a few minutes earlier. God, he hated old people, too.

But the moment he slows to a stop next to a familiar looking car and finally glances to his right, he has to double take. Of course, he just had to run into you. You've been his girlfriend for three years now, and he's admittedly grown obsessed with you. But at the moment, Toji was growing even angrier.

Sure, he has a temper, but it felt justified this time.

You told him you were staying home today, so did you lie, or did something come up? Tojis mind just happened to settle on the worst.

He continued to stare at you for a few seconds, but you were too preoccupied with whoever you were on the phone with. You looked concerned, maybe a little panicked, but he could tell you were mostly angry.

Finally, you glanced to your left, and thinking your eyes deceived you, you took another look. The confusion in your eyes shifted to shock as you registered who you were looking at. Toji, in his black leather and that shiny black helmet, sitting on his bike right next to you.

You apologized and hung up on whoever you were talking to before putting your phone away. You nervously smile as Toji crosses his arms over his chest. The "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Radiating off of him. If you hadn't known him for so long, you would be even more intimidated than you were, but at the moment, you felt more anxious than anything.

Toji flipped his visor up, and the heated glare he was shooting at you was enough to get your knees weak. But not in the good way. "Toji-," you attempted to say, but you were cut off by the sound of the backseat window rolling down. Tojis eyes widened in shock when he saw 12 year old Megumi sitting in the back, cuts lining his cheek, his busted lip and the bruise under his eye, as the boy stared at his dad with a deadpan expression. Tojis eyes shot back to you, and you swallowed your spit nervously.

Before Toji could even attempt to speak, a car behind you both honked, startling him. You flinched and faced the rode, shielding your face from Toji as you sped away. Toji only caught a glimpse of Megumi sticking his tongue out at him before you were off. Toji, normally the road rager he is, ignores the honking car and hits the acceleration.

It takes seconds before Toji has caught up with your vehicle, but he swerves into the lane behind you, tailing your rear. Toji didn't give a fuck about the car he just cut off, his mind was elsewhere.

Why the fuck was Megumi beat up for? Did he get into a fight at school? Did he win?

You, on the other hand, avoided looking into the rear view mirror. The look of Tojis helmet was enough to make you nervous, but you could tell he was angry. And as his girlfriend, you knew he was worried as well, even if he would never show it as Megumis strong dad. You could only prepare yourself for the scolding, the questions, the worry, the everything Toji was once you both got home.

Exactly how angry was he? Did he already know about Megumis fight, is that why he was coincidentally there at the light? Will he be proud that Megumi won?

-------------------------------------------------♤

It was a tense atmosphere around you three. You sat at the kitchen counter as Megumi stood by your side, and Toji was on the opposite end of the kitchen island, just staring. He hadn't said a word to you or the little boy as you both parked your vehicles. And you could see the intensity in Tojis eyes.

"Care to tell me what the hell is goin' on?" His voice was deep and gravely. You glanced at Megumi, almost as if you expected the boy to speak up and save the whole situation. Of course, the raven haired boy only stood there calmly. Your fingers itched to dab at the bruise under Megumis eye, you wanted to heal him so bad it hurt.

But you weren't a sorcerer. You couldn't use any sort of technique on your boy. As if he needed it. For a kid his age, he's certainly tough.

You looked back at Toji with a timid smile. "Well.. Megumi got into a fight at school today." You started softly. Toji cut in, "No shit Sherlock." And you glared at him in response. He wanted to be mad? Fine. But you refused to have all this attitude from him. Fortunately, Megumi spoke up before you could throw an attitude right back at him.

"Some kid said something about mom..so I punched him in the face." Megumi said it so casually. Every time he would call you his mother, your heart would do leaps in your chest.

Toji scoffed and crossed his arms. He stared at Megumi for a few seconds before looking back to you. "This true?" He said, bringing his thumb to his mouth, probing his nail to his teeth. You couldn't help but soften at his obvious worry, but you also couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Yes Toji, the principal said that Megumi started a fight with another boy. It took two teachers to get Megumi off that kid." You further explained.

You looked back at Megumi with a soft smile before gently rubbing your palm down his cheek. "Even though I wish you wouldn't have gotten yourself hurt." You mumbled, a slight scold forming on your tongue. Megumi shyly tilted his head away from your touch with a scowl. "Yeah, well.. he should have kept his mouth shut." Megumi retorted. Toji sighed and rubbed the pads of his thumb and pointer finger against his eyes.

"Does it hurt, kid?" The question was soft and hesitant. Toji has never been good at comforting others. Megumi shrugged casually and mimicked his father's pose, arms crossed over his chest. "It burns a little, but I can handle it." It sounded like a challenge from Megumi. As if he was saying, "doubt me, I dare you." And Toji only nodded. "Go to your room for a few minutes then.. I need to talk to your ma." Toji mumbled, eyes locking with yours.

Megumi silently looked between you both before nodding and walking to his room. You nervously look down at your fingers, fiddling with the cuticles around your nails. "Toji, I'm sorry -" You started to say. But Toji had begun to make his way around the kitchen island. He stood in front of you and pulled your head to his chest.

You were surprised, to say the least, but that didn't stop you from melting into his chest. "Thank you for taking care of Megs. You're a good mom." He mumbled, his breath fanning over the top of your head. Tears welded up in your eyes, and your shoulders sagged in releif.

Toji always knew what to say and what you were thinking.

"You're not mad?" You questioned timidly, wrapping your arms around his waist. Toji only hummed as he shook his head no. "No.. it's not your fault there's some asshole kids at Megumis school. And it's definitely not your fault that Megs had to defend your name." Tojis words sounded like pure sugar to your ears, with a bit of spice. "But he's hurt -" "He's a tough kid, like his daddy. Some douchebag kids can't hurt our son." Toji reassured you.

His confirmations were all you needed. You had been stressing ever since you picked up Megumi early for school. You couldn't help but feel guilty and ashamed, like it was your fault Megumi got into trouble. Not only that, but he was actually hurt. Maybe he didn't fuss about the pain, but you certainly would.

Toji could feel your tears soak his shirt and let out an amused huff. He kneeled down so he was eye level with you, and he gently swiped his thumb under your eye. "Stop your crying, will ya? Megs is fine, and no one is mad at you for anything. You're a good mom, even if it's not biologically." Tojis, not so normally soft, voice rang through your head like a mantra. A deep breath entered your lungs, and you exhaled it after a few seconds. He was right, after all. Megumi was fine, a little bruised, but okay. And as long as Toji wasn't mad at you, your heart finally gave peace to the whole situation.

"Now.. how about I go up to Megs' school and have a chat with the principal?" God bless the poor soul.

[kix-mm]

Wishes gone wrong...

T was never one to easily make friends, what few he had never stayed, and eventually, it escalated to him creating an imaginary friend. Someone truly out of his world. A person who understood him, who cared for him, who never left his side...

T wanted nothing more than for his friend to become real, for someone real to love him for who he was and not out of pity, like his parents, or teachers, or the countless doctors and therapists. T's imaginary friend was all he wanted in his life... and yet, when the day came, he wanted nothing more than for the wish to be undone.

G was massive, overwhelming, and appeared at the worst time. Suddenly being wished into existence in a tiny room was not ideal and caused for a very close first meeting... T was immediately panicked when their imaginary friend suddenly materialized right beneath them... but G remained calm, kind, and patient. The wish was granted because they both wanted it after all... all they had to do was to figure out how to deal with this newfound reality

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[baby-tini]

You think Dabi's pretty- scratch that you think he's beautiful, but unfortunately he doesn't agree. Despite his calm and collected nature, he's insecure about his scars. He doesn't understand how you, the most beautiful person in the world, could like him, a villian, someone who's covered in burns... it just doesn't make sense to him. You, however, don't care and hate when he talks negatively about himself and it has caused arguments that has led you to getting upset and Dabi pulling away, leaving for a couple hours to days. He always comes back though, he can't stay away, you know that and he's coming to terms with it. You really, are the only person that cares about him, besides the league, he doesn't have many people.

He looks so pretty making breakfast, in nothing but his boxers and grey sweats. "You look so pretty Dabi," you murmur sleepily, wrapping your hands around his waist from behind, laying your head on his right shoulder. He scoffs, flipping the eggs and tensing when he feels you run kisses along the staples across his back. Shaking his head, he mumbles, "your eyes must be blurry from sleep, doll." You whine into his back, huffing as you pull away. "Why do you always do this, Dabi? Can't you please just take a compliment, you really are pretty."

He finishes cooking breakfast and turns off the stove before turning around and leaning against the oven. "Babydoll, you do understand that I'm covered in burns, I'm not exactly a model... plus I'm not supposed to be pretty, I'm supposed to be scary, doll." Glaring at him you narrow your eyes, "Dabi, please stop saying that, you're very attractive... I think the burns make you look hotter to be honest.." He bursts out laughing, petting your hair as he moves to take the plates out and set them on the table. "Is that right, doll? You think I look hotter with the burn scars? You're a little freak, you know that?"

He always does this, he can never except that he's attractive because of the scars, so he'll make it into a joke or wave you off with a "sure, whatever you say, doll." It's really upsetting, because no matter how hard he tries, there's always a snarl pulling at his lips when he looks at himself in the mirror. Coming up behind him again, you wrap an arm around his stomach as the other wraps around his upper chest as you lay your cheek on the midst of his back, he relaxes a bit, caressing your hand as he hums. Leaning a bit into your embrace as he takes the arm wrapped around his chest and kisses your hand, rubbing circles on it.

You cuddle into his back, running your fingers over the staples and kissing the edges of his burns, "you know I'll always think you're beautiful Dabi... nothing you say or do will ever change that. I'm not always talking about your looks either, you're extremely intelligent, so observational and snarky... the prettiest parts of you aren't always physical... like the way your eyes go soft when I tell you I love you... or the way they shine just right in the sun. Or when you go soft when your sleepy, you always hold me close... keep me safe." Kissing his scars in between sentences, his hands tighten around your arms.

Pulling you so your face is buried in his chest, as he kisses your head, squeezing tight around your waist. Running his fingers through your hair he whispers sweet nothing in your ear, "even if you don't believe me... please know that you are pretty and I love you so much... more than you could know." Your eyes start to water and get blurry from the on coming tears as you feel something splash on your shoulder, you try to lift your head but he keeps your face buried in his chest. Digging his tongue in his cheek, he inhales deeply as he rubs his hand up and down your back, kissing your head every once and a while.

"C'mon doll... breakfast is done." He kisses your head one last time before letting go and walking to the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes, you go to sit down only to see crimson dripping down your shoulder as it stains your skin, leaving pretty red trails. Glancing back at him, you catch him rub at his eyes, the same crimson staining his fingers before he wipes it away... Dabi really is always so pretty, in all his moments.

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Choose Your Fighter

[justme315]

GT though

I love fluff. I LOVE gentle giants. Would I be the most gentle giant in the universe? Of course. Do I LIVE for those friendships? Heck yeah! Would I DIE for the gt family relationships? Obviously. GT fluff is just..

But do I still love angst and fearplay more? Do I enjoy the feeling of fear I feel as I read the tinies perspective?

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY

(Please tell me I'm not the only one)

[smol-n-smol]

The inspiration brain cells have started revving again!

I feel like I see a lot of stories where humans are integrated into giant schools, but imagine the reverse. As part of an integration program, a giant gets enrolled into a human school.

Just imagine it! He has to awkwardly sit outside the school building for most of his classes, listening in through the windows. From the inside, the human students just see a single eye peering through the glass.

He can't enjoy lunch in peace because his fellow classmates are terrified to see him eat. He's ridiculously smart but gets called "brute" all the time because of the stereotypes associated with giants. There are constantly helicopters and news reporters taking photos of him.

And maybe he can't even go home. Maybe it's a boarding school so he has to stay on campus in specially built accommodations. Of course he doesn't have a roommate or anyone to keep him company so the experience is super lonely.

Plus throughout all of this, he has to navigate the social expectations of being an adolescent. God forbid he gets moody at all, or else he'll be deemed a monster. How is he supposed to make friends when everyone runs away from him in fear?

The angst!! The potential for fluff and hurt/comfort!! I can't wait to write this

[willow-and-morel]

😌 drawing a little to ease my mind /ref

mmm shapes and colors

hi gang sorry i had to do alittle bit of angst i promise she will be fine, yes thats weird ahh magic fire, no its not burning our girlie.

I LOVE TEXTURES 🗣️🗣️🗣️

gradient mapping my love

[alleiwentcrazy]

Now with a part two!

There’s a guy that comes to the cafe Eddie’s working at. Every other day, he comes to the counter, smiles at Eddie and gives him a post-it with “hi, an americano with two sugars please :)” written on it. He has a different color of post-it assigned for every day. Eddie smiles back and makes the americano, trying to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest. 

Needless to say, the guy is insanely cute. He has swoopy chestnut hair, droopy, almost puppy-like eyes, and two moles on his neck that make him look like he’s been bitten by a vampire. Eddie’s not sure if he finds it more adorable or sexy; either way, he’s definitely developed a crush. And now, after months of trying to gather up his courage to say hi, after months of pining and staring from afar... He’s still nowhere near ready to talk to him. And Chrissy’s not letting him live it down. 

“You’re insufferable,” she whispers to him frantically when the guy comes through the door on the first Monday of December. “Do something more than smile dumbly or I’ll fire you.”

“You can’t fire me,” Eddie hisses back as he tries to dust pastry crumbs off of his shirt. 

“I’m the manager. I can do whatever I want,” she chirps back and goes on to cleaning the machines that don’t need to be cleaned, because Eddie did that twenty minutes ago. 

The guy comes to the counter. There are snowflakes in his hair, big and soft. Eddie thinks that they compliment his eyes—then he realizes that it’s a weird thing to notice about a stranger. 

The stranger smiles. Eddie smiles back. Today’s post-it is light purple.

Eddie makes the americano. It’s muscle memory at this point, he’s not even thinking about what he’s doing until he has to force a lid onto the cup and serve it to his customer. Hell, whatever. He grabs a sharpie and bends down to drabble something on the cup, trying not to spill the coffee. He manages to draw an ugly looking snake that was supposed to be a dragon, cringes, writes “Have a nice day!” underneath it and prays that it isn’t too weird.

Of course it is. But, miraculously, the guy looks at it, huffs a tiny laugh and smiles right at Eddie and – yeah, whatever, curse him – the whole room lights up. Yes, it’s sappy. Sue him. He could be sappy for this guy—if the guy wanted it.

He takes his coffee and leaves, but before he crosses the threshold, he turns back and waves at Eddie, using only three fingers. It’s a small wave, but a wave nonetheless, so Eddie sends him his best grin and waves back.

When he’s finally out, Eddie bends over the counter and groans. Chrissy pats him between the shoulderblades, mocking sympathy. “You’re on probation,” she whispers. Eddie groans once again. This is hell.

***

He has to call in sick on Wednesday. Now that he’s thinking about it, he kind of knew that the mayo smelled funny and it wasn’t good anymore. But he’s a broke college student and he had a choice: stale bread with mayo and a slice of tomato, or just stale bread with a slice of tomato. These weren’t even real choices. It was suffering or suffering.

Apparently, he’d chosen double suffering, and he had a whole night of hurling to prove it. Good thing he doesn’t have to send Chrissy any photos of what he had to deal with – when he calls, she cuts him off with “Just take my afternoon shift tomorrow and we’re even. You’ll miss out on your cutie, it’s a punishment in and of itself,” and goes on with her day.

Eddie’s so grateful for Chrissy. He wouldn’t get anywhere without her. 

***

Eddie doesn’t expect his guy to come on Thursday, it isn’t his regular schedule, so he’s in for a surprise when his morning shift ends and turns into Chrissy’s afternoon shift, and then, some time later, his guy comes in—and he’s not alone.

He’s with a girl. With a pretty, pretty girl, who has beautifully curly brown hair, inquisitive eyes and kind but determined expression on her face. There’s something quite unique about her; Eddie thinks, briefly, that she looks like she’s from another era. Like if they were living in the 80s, she would have a perm, wear bold lipstick and have a whole wall of degrees and certificates in her office. She seems to be destined for great things. She’s a badass.

Eddie’s nothing like her. He tries to swallow down the jealousy as they near the counter. His – his? – guy looks surprised, but smiles either way, his eyes lighting up in a matter of seconds.

“Hi,” the girl says. Her own smile is so nice and warm Eddie can’t stay mopey for too long. “I’ll have a latte with two shots of espresso, and…”

She turns to the guy beside her, but Eddie doesn’t have to know the answer. “An americano with two sugars. On it.”

Their eyes lock for a second. The guy seems a bit shy, but he’s still smiling. Eddie counts that as a win. But he’s still quick with their coffees. He can sense the staring contest they’re having even while he has his back turned to them. He kinda wants them gone, but they didn’t ask for to go, so he just tries to stay calm. Focused. Sharp.

Fortunately, he doesn’t spill anything. They get their order and sit in a corner. It doesn’t look like a date, they pull out books and notes, scribble and sign from time to time. The girl clearly knows more than just the basics of ASL, unlike Eddie. Since the guy started showing up, he’s been trying to learn more about it, but now he makes a mental note to enroll on a course. It’s time to commit – to what, exactly, he’s not sure. But he’s gonna make it happen.

Hours pass, but they stay in the same position. Eddie steals a glance every now and then, trying not to let his jealousy get to the surface again, but it’s hard. The guy is cute, the girl is smart and beautiful. He decides to call Chrissy on his way home – if he has to pine, she’ll suffer with him.

The end of his shift is nearing when he hears a giggle from the godforsaken corner. He looks up from the cups he’s been rearranging and sees that it’s his guy’s girl who’s laughing. She’s laughing at yet another girl, who’s standing outside and drawing hearts on the dirty window. She has a goofy grin on her face, one that makes her eyes and her prominent cheekbones pop even more, and it’s the same grin that the girl inside is wearing at the moment.

Now, Eddie doesn’t know a lot about love, but he definitely recognizes heart eyes when he sees them. He smiles to himself – don’t judge a book by its cover, huh?

His guy looks exasperated about being completely ignored, so he taps the glass a few times. The girl outside looks at him, shocked, like she’s only just seen him now, sticks out her tongue at him, and goes back to blowing kisses at her girlfriend. The guy looks truly wounded. Eddie snorts; the dynamic here is immaculate.

In the meantime, the not-his-guy's girl has gathered her things and prepared to leave. She kisses his cheek on her way out, but the guy stays put, bending over his papers again. Eddie thinks it’s quite interesting. Then, he makes a plan.

When he’s done with work, his guy is still there. Which is perfect. Eddie fixes his hair one last time, trying to gauge whether his outfit is metal enough (it is) for the occasion, and grabs the americano with two sugars he’s made.

It’s alright. Everything’s alright.

His wildly beating heart isn’t so sure about that.

When he gets to his guy’s table, he sets the piece of paper on it first. “Looks like you’re swamped – it’s on the house,” it says. The guy looks up, surprised, his mouth opened in a tiny oh. His eyes go wide for a moment and then he smiles. Something warm settles inside Eddie’s chest.

The guy picks up a pen and writes “Thank you!!!” on Eddie’s piece of paper, but before giving it back, he changes his mind. “I’m Steve,” he scribbles, and then gives it back with a flash of smile.

He smiles a lot. It’s an amazing sight.

“Hello, Steve. I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you,” Eddie replies. “What are you working on?” he adds after a second, because he’s feeling bold and he really doesn’t want to go yet.

The guy – Steve – sighs. He makes some room on the loveseat he’s occupying and pushes his books to the middle. Eddie takes it as a cue to sit down. Their knees bump, Eddie gets goosebumps, but he doesn’t move away. Neither does Steve.

“I’ve got an assignment on modern fantasy and its mythological origins, but I’m not as nerdy as my friends so I’m struggling a bit. Nance helped, but she’s not an expert either and my other nerdy friends went for a trip. Maybe you have any experience?”

Eddie’s eyes open wide and he bounces with excitement, nodding his head along the way. “YES,” he writes, all caps, and Steve huffs another laugh. They look at each other then, Eddie all hyped and ready, Steve—soft? There’s no other way to describe it. His gaze is gentle, almost caring. Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.

His phone buzzes aggressively in his pocket. He checks it – it’s Chrissy. She’s got her period and she’s out of tampons.

“Shit,” he mumbles. Steve bumps their shoulders.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Eddie picks up the pen. “Tiny emergency, I’m sorry. Tomorrow?”

He knows that his hopeful stare must seem desperate, but Steve reads his reply, looks up and smiles, nodding. Eddie wants to scream victory, but he only nods back and gets up instead. When he’s about to turn and leave, he feels fingers wrap around his hand, delicate but firm. Slowly, Steve opens up his hand and writes something on it.

It’s a phone number. “In case you get sick again :)”

Eddie can’t hold back his dopey smile any longer. When he looks at Steve, the corners of his lips quirk up too. He’s lovely.

Eddie can’t wait for tomorrow.

[puddingforg]

part 2!! in case you wanna check out part 1 here it is :))

overall liked how the comic turned out, would've like my style to be a bit more consistent but it is what it is

I have a part 3 planned in my head still let me know if yall would like me to post it :)

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[cryptidclownz]

i have scars too!

designs i made for them under the cut!!

[hairmetal666]

Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08