#cruckles

[lifesdiary]

this is one of the softest thing ever, I love mczuckles ♡

[smilky-clouds]

Zuckles, entering the room looking disheveled: Sorry I'm late I was doing things

McCreamy, entering the room also disheveled: HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

[misfits-moodboards]

McCreamy & Zuckles + Red/Blue, summer vibes kinda?

Requested anonymously!

The blues aren’t exactly the same even though I tried to get them to match, sorry 💖💖

[misfitscollegeau-blog]

McCreamy(Jay):

• Wears his off white mask everywhere (to flex) bc that’s just how he is lol

• Has a skateboard!!

• Takes like all the music classes and blows evERYONE AWAY

• Plays 🅱️ortnite way too much

• Kind of a loner? (Until he meets the Misfits ofc)

• Asthma(tm)

• His hair gets wILD when it grows out

[multiwinch]

@kkriii

“ if jay’s ever tired and wants to nap but mason isn’t feeling up to it, he usually goes to sleep with his teddy”

I liked that one :)

[mssjynx]

bad luck

mczuckles. 962 words no warnings .

Bad luck. Mason knew it like no one else did. Growing up, it followed him everywhere. Through elementary school, middle school and high school, it tormented and tortured him. A curse, he claimed. It had to be a curse. Because there was simply no way one boy could have such awful luck.

Only a week ago he’d fractured his hand because he’d tried to stop the elevator from closing, except for no other reason than to make Mason’s life harder, it didn’t bounce back when it hit his arm. Nope, it tried to close for a long few seconds until a pop was heard from Mason’s wrist and the person in the elevator hit the button that opens the doors.

For that stupid reason, his forearm and hand were locked up in a cast and he had to try and juggle his shit with one arm as he walked around campus.

Bad luck.

“Do I really have to carry all this shit for you? Since when did you actually give a fuck about your lectures?”

Cam the Asshole. AKA: Mason’s best friend for over seven years. The one who witnessed all of Mason’s bad luck events and laughed at him no matter the occasion. He was good at complaining and being really, really irritating.

“Do you ever shut up?” Mason grumbled, shifting the few books he could tuck under his cast.

Cam grunted but didn’t respond as they rounded a corner. Bad luck, bad timing: whatever you wanna call it. It had somebody else rounding the corner at the exact same time, jabbing whatever said person was holding right into Mason’s gut.

He fell to the floor, curses rolling off his tongue as he dropped his books and curled over to protect his tummy. Hot and painful.

“Motherfucker,” he spat, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Aw shit.” A different voice.

Laughter from behind him. Fucking Cam.

“Hey, I’m so sorry- fuck, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A hasty voice, concerned, and accompanied by a hand on Mason’s shoulder. When he composed himself enough to lift his head, he met deep brown eyes and arched lips. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

The boy had soft-looking brown hair, deep brown eyes and a soft, kind face that. Mason was turning pink in the cheeks. Of course, he met the most gorgeous boy on campus by impaling himself on his fucking skateboard.

“’ts okay,” he grunted, accepting the hand up and stumbling to his feet. “Not your fault: I shoulda been watching myself.”

“Yeah, instead of talking shit,” Cam scoffed.

“Fuck off, cunt,” Mason snapped, sending him a glare before returning his attention to the pretty boy who handed him his books back. “Sorry about that,” he offered, struggling to find a place to let his eyes rest.

He almost fell to his knees again when the angel in front of him smiled nervously. “Don’t be. I’m Jay. Sorry to meet you like this…?”

Mason hoped his palms weren’t too sweaty when he shook the boy’s hand. “Mason,” he told him. His cheeks were red, he knew it. Cam wouldn’t stop damn cackling. “I’m s- sorry about this, I, uh-“ he shakily snatched his hand back. Jay’s was too warm. His face was too pretty. “I’ve gotta- uh, I should-“

“Wait a moment,” Jay said, holding up a finger as he ruffled through the bag over his shoulder. When he pulled out a pen, he reached for Mason’s cast and stepped a little closer. “Do you mind?” Polite. He uncapped the pen and motioned to the clean cast. Mason shook his head, allowing him to go on as he held his breath.

Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.

Jay took a moment to scribble on his cast and when he finally pulled back, there was a small message Mason couldn’t read upside-down and ten little numbers followed by two x’s. His face was bright fucking red.

“I hope I run into you again… without stabbing you with my skateboard, of course,” he said, eyes sparkling. He took another moment to examine Mason’s face, waiting for a response.

Aw fuck.

“T-thank you, I- uh, fuck. I- We-“ Stuttering, stammering: he mentally punched himself. “I gotta gay-“ Fuck’s sake. “GO! Go! I mean, go: I gotta go. I have a class and we- we should go and- I’ll see you around!”

In his humiliation, he grabbed a hold of Cam’s sleeve and yanked him forwards, half-stumbling half-running around the corner and down the hall away from the boy who he had thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of. Cam’s laughter was remorseless and when they finally stopped, Mason hunched over to catch his breath and had to stop himself from screaming.

“I- I’ve gotta gay,” Cam wheezed, gasping for air as he howled with laughter.

Mason only groaned, shaking his head with his hands over his face. “Fuck off,” he mumbled.

“God, you managed to fuck up so- so, spectacularly,” Cam giggled, hand over his chest as he tried to get his breath back, “and you got his fucking number! I don’t believe it, I don’t fuckin’ believe it.”

“Shut up, Cam!” Mason whined, not wanting to look at the writing on his cast. There was no way it was real. His face was burning, his heart was racing, and his head was spinning. There was no way he didn’t just hallucinate everything that had just happened.

“I’m fuckin’ done, cunt. I’m so done!”

With a deep breath in and a few long moments to compose himself, Mason huffed and stood up straight. “Come on, jackass. I don’t want to be later than I already am,” he grumbled, cheeks still pink he could assume as Cam side-glanced him and snickered.

“Okay, hot-shot, let’s go.”

“Asshole.”

“Disaster.”

[uminobiruka]

homesick

also posted on ao3 here

mason has a panic attack. jay attempts to calm him down. (what the fuck is the shipname im using cruckles)

jay stumbled onto the hallway, the music behind him becoming quieter as he continued to walk.

he didn't feel drunk. he didn't drink, really, but the music and the people had become too overwhelming at this point. besides, mason had gone somewhere a while ago, and jay could feel anxiety creeping upon him. he wasn't even sure how long has it been since mason left the room. half an hour? a full hour?

fuck

the kiwi wasn't even sure where to search. outside? no, he would've been able to see his friend if he had snuck out. their room was the most probable place for the aussie to be, considering jay wasn't hearing any zuckles-like screams. he picked up his pace. the door to their room was wide open, as usual, with nobody to be seen in the darkness. jay flipped the light switch, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness and searched the room carefully. “mason?” he called out. nothing.

where the fuck can he be?

looking around the room again, heartbeat rising, he mentally checked out every place. his bed? nothing. mason’s bed? neither. his eyes fell on the bathroom door. slightly ajar bathroom door, to be exact, with visible light on inside. he breathed out, relieved that his friend was probably just throwing up, and knocked.

“mason? everything fine?” the only response he got was jagged breathing.

jay walked inside, his brain taking a while to register what was happening. mason was sitting in the corner, knees to his chest, head against the wall, breathing far too fast. he looked completely disheveled, eyes red when he looked up at the kiwi. jay’s eyes widened with worry as he rushed to the aussie, kneeling in front of him.

“mace, are you okay?”

mason shook his head, still hyperventilating. jay gently pushed his legs apart, holding his hands and crawling closer.

“hey, hey, calm down, okay? i’m here, everything is fine.” except it obviously wasn't. mason’s eyes were wet and unfocused, his body trembling. jay moved further towards mason, straddling him, knees to the wall, one hand tangling in mason’s hair, pressing the aussie’s head onto his shoulder. “mason, mate, breathe, i’m here with you, i’m breathing, see?” he was aware of the gibberish coming out of his mouth in an attempt to calm mason down, but continued, because mason seemed to be listening, wrapping his free arm around jay’s back and squeezing him.

“whatever it is, it's going to be fine, you just gotta- gotta breathe with me, mate, do you want me to count? would that help?” mason squeezed him harder, the kiwi deciding to interpret that gesture as a yes. “we breathe in for fou- five, okay, five, and then out for… eight? yeah, that should work, okay?” mason squeezed again. jay wasn't even sure if that was the correct breathing technique, it has been a few years since he saw that on the internet after all, but he had to try. slowly, he counted to five, stroking mason’s hair to indicate that he was doing it right. the aussie’s breathing slowly returned to normal, albeit filled with hiccuping, and his grip on jay had loosened.

the kiwi pulled away a bit, hand sliding from the back of his friend's neck down his arm. mason was still trembling, even in a hoodie and jeans, and was staring down onto the tiled floor. the fingers on his left hand were still intertwined with jay’s, not that either of them seemed to mind.

“mace, what happened?” jay’s face was full of worry.

"i- i’m- fucking hell,” mason wiped his eyes on the right sleeve, “i got so fucking worried th- that when we come home everyone will be gone and i couldn't- i was so scared and started panicking so much, jay, fuck, i’m sorry.” he straightened his legs, making the kiwi sit on his thighs. in response, jay squeezed his hand and ruffled his hair.

“it's fine, dummy,” he said, attempting to stand up, “i just got worried when i couldn't find you, that's all. do you wanna call cam to see if he's fine?” he finally got up, looking down onto mason’s unevenly flushed face. “tomorrow, i'm fucking exhausted right now, not even go- nna shower,” the aussie said, still slightly hiccuping and jay offered him a hand, helping him stand up onto his shaking legs, “doubt that i’ll sleep tho.”

the two walked out of the bathroom, mason immediately heading for his bed, being stopped only by jay’s arm around his waist. he looked at the kiwi quizzically, tired from the panic.

“come cuddle, mace. i want you to sleep, not worry the entire night.” jay was leading him to his own bed, the arm slipping away as he sat down, looking back at mason and patting the bed with a soft smile. mason shrugged, figuring he should at least take off his clothes, smelling slightly of weed, if he hadn't showered. jay took the hint, undressing himself too. awkwardly, mason sat down on the bed, unsure of how he should continue. the kiwi gently pulled him into a hug, laying down and flipping them on the side, reaching for the light switch next to the headboard. the room sunk into darkness again. mason wrapped his arms around jay’s torso, burying his head into his friend's chest, and tangling their legs together. jay had one hand on mason’s upper back, drawing soothing circles on his heated skin, the other ruffling mason’s hair yet again. it felt mesmerising.

“hey, mace? before you fall asleep, uh…” “yeah?” the aussie voiced, muffled. “the boys are fine. everybody back home is fine, okay? there's nothing to worry about, we're just both homesick. but i’m here with you. and we're leaving soon anyway. and you can call cam and toby anytime and-” jay trailed off.

mason just squeezed him harder.

“thanks, jay." he paused to yawn. "night.”

“anytime, mate.”

[smilky-clouds]

Fitz, mumbling in embarrassment: I-If I were a gardener, I would put our tulips together.

Smii7y: Aw, babe!

Zuckles: If I were a gardener you’d be my hoe.

McCreamy: …thanks