Gentle Lovin’ — Choso Kamo

Eternally yours

Summary: Eddie grapples with the realization that he exists solely in your imagination, while you cling to the fleeting moments you have.

Warning: I found this fic in my drafts from the end of last year. I completely forgot about it and reading it today made me incredibly sad. Why do I write things that hurt? Read at your own risk.

Word count: 744

Eddie stares at your hand resting beside his on the dock. He wonders how his hand can feel so real when it looks and moves just like yours. He can feel the wood beneath his fingertips. He can hear the water brush against the dock. He can see the moon casting a light on your face. It’s all so real, but he’s not. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of his body and the self-awareness causes him to feel uneasy.

Breaking free from his thoughts, you ask Eddie what he does when you’re not around. His voice trails off as he searches for an answer, realizing that his memories revolve solely around you. He musters the words, “I don't know…maybe I only exist when you’re around.”

The weight of your gaze intensifies the ache in his chest, as he grapples with the paradox of your presence while feeling his own absence. You exist and he doesn’t. How can he make sense of that when you're staring right at him, making him feel so alive?

“Do you think of me when we're not together?” He asks softly, feeling cracked open by his vulnerability. If he were to ask you what his lungs looked like, he'd swear you could simply peer down and tell him.

“All the time.”

That eases the ache and he smiles. The cool night breeze envelops both of you as Eddie tentatively lifts his hand, feeling the air flow through his fingers. However, a tremor runs through him, and you reach out to steady his hand with a gentle touch.

“Don’t get lost in it. Just stay with me.” You say.

Eddie tightens his grip on your hand, but his chest rises and falls quickly. He does not meet your eyes, because he is getting lost in it. The panic starts to set in. But then he feels your thumb brush gently over his hand. He hears his name on your lips, and it's as if you pulled him out of the hole he was falling into.

With his brown doe eyes fixed on yours, Eddie’s hand rises to touch your cheek. His fingers trace your face delicately, committing every curve and line to memory. He hesitates before asking, “Is this okay?”

You affirm with a single word, “Yes.”

Noticing a change in your expression and your attempt to control your breathing, Eddie’s thumb caresses your cheek as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

A small smile appears on your face before you admit, “I think about this all the time. You have no idea.”

Curious, Eddie asks, “Think about what?”

“You. And how your touch would feel…” Your voice trails off, cheeks flushing.

Eddie gently tilts your chin up. “How does it feel?”

Your eyes meet and he waits for your response, captivated by each of your breaths. But then, a tear falls from your eyes.

“Better than I could imagine, which is silly because this is all in my imagination,” you confess, your voice breaking as you look away.

Eddie wipes away your tears, his face filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Suddenly, you envelop Eddie in a tight hug, surprising him but easing his tension. He reciprocates, pulling you closer. Holding you tight.

“I miss you,” You whisper.

The words fall from your lips. Eddie is filled with confusion because he doesn’t know the pain you’ve endured because of his story. He doesn’t know how his fate ended, because this version of him lives on only within your mind—suspended in time. You met him in the middle, where his story was still happy and he was filled with promise of it being his year.

He lets his unanswered question dissolve, softly assuring you, “I’m right here.”

And he is, yet he isn’t. Time has passed, and the world has moved on from him, unbeknownst to Eddie. So, you securely hold him in your heart and mind, ensuring his existence continues.

“You know,” he starts, stroking your hair, “If I exist only because of you, then that’s a life worth living.”

The lake stills, the wind ceases, and just before Eddie can comprehend you're gone, he smiles. The world darkens, freezing him in an eternal moment.

Eddie Munson ceases to exist, residing only in the mind of a shifter, between the pages of the writer, the pen strokes of an artist and through the words of those who read him back to life in every possible scenario.

For every moment you experience in reality, he waits—until you meet again.

Masterlist

“you, stop . . moving,” sukuna prowls, the base of his chin sat on top of your thighs.

you were in your usual spot, waiting for him to return from whatever battle had him occupied for half the day. moments later, you’re now slouched back against sukuna’s throne with a very grumpy, pouty demon lying his head against the center of your lap. before you could even part your lips to ask him what happened this time, sukuna grumbles. “bad. very bad day, little one.”

humming, you strum a few feathery fingers toward the pink roots of his hair before softly digging a path through his tender scalp. “oh. well, wanna talk about it?”

“no,” he replies gruffly with an abrupt quickness, his pout growing the more he remembered about his day. however, as your fingers continued to comb through his silk tresses, sukuna buried his face between your thighs. “i need… to recharge.”

“most people would drink water or eat somet-”

“shut up.”

“…..”

slowly peeking from between the warmth of your glued legs, sukuna notices the pausing halt on your fingers that played with his hair and he scowls. oh, he’s pouting, and with a cute, annoyed grumble, he avoids your gaze.

“i told you to shut up, not . . to stop doing that. go on. hmph.”

rolling your eyes, you gave him a subtle head pat before hearing a loud sigh exit between your thighs. he’s usually never this clingy, and you remained quiet - wondering just what happened in his day for him to behave so … needy.

your fingers resumed its maze through his scalp tenderly, and his long lashes fluttered close - a soft content sigh dragging away from his thinly parted lips. in a way, you had to admit — this looked silly.

a huge, burly thousand-year-old curse of a demon positioned between your thighs. it was merely comical, and yet, sukuna could really care less.

the king of curses didn’t have a weakness - except you.

“mmgh-” he’d grunt, tilting his head to the left before he felt your thumb gingerly scratching behind his ear. for a second, you think you saw his nose twitching too. sukuna’s pink brows were still forcibly furrowed together, perfectly expressing his stubborn frustration before he let off another noise.

this time though - it’s different . .

it’s a subtle, cooing ‘rrrrr’ sound that’s deeply low. the entire sound alone from sukuna makes your thighs shake a bit and you look down at him with a perplexed look.

“ ‘kuna?” you murmured, the swirling circles of your finger stopping once again. a cunning grin gradually creased against your lips before you gasped. “did you just … purr?”

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“that noise you just made.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, his scratchy voice a bit muffled from how he nearly sank between the arc of your thighs. “pft. i was clearing my throat, obviously. you humans and your delusions-”

“nooo, i heard it,” you cheekily simpered, pinching his cheek. that earned a disgusted glower from him before you brought your fingers back toward behind his ear. “i scratched behind hereeee ‘n then . . you made that sound.”

the demon’s breath hitched once he felt the tip of your stubby thumb leisurely trail its way near behind his ear. instantaneously, his ear even twitched at your delicate touch and his eyes were just whining for more. for once, sukuna doesn’t have a witty remark and he’s just allowing you to toy your fingers against his balmy skin.

“stupid …. it wasn’t a purr. that’s insulting.”

“oh, my bad. what was it then?”

sukuna glares at you, and you return with a smug expression. damn.

sighing, sukuna’s shoulder slacken. “whatever. anyways,” he grumps, his chin sitting back onto your right leg. crimson eyes flicker up toward you before he pouts. “scratch behind my ear again. see what happens.”

“or what, you’ll purr again? ooh. scary.”

sukuna’s cheeks were so flushed - on the very cusps of shading into a bright hue of vermillion before he scoffs. “ha! do it. you wo- mmmmrr-”

cutting him off, you give him a good scratch behind his ear once more, and again—that sound comes out. a soothing, content purr from sukuna that cutely makes his whole body faintly rumble against your thighs.

it wasn’t just the purring, it was all of his changing body language that occurred too.

whenever your fingers would swiftly dash across the sensitive territory that was located behind his ear, sukuna turned into an entire different person. his eyelids would hang low, his nose would twitch, and his usual grumpy expression would slowly switch to a more… tame one.

it’s like your fingers had some sort of magic, and it irritated him but it also made him . . craving more of your touch. “there there,” you hummed, feeling him relax against your touch. your fingertips were always so gentle, dancing down the outer edge of his ear as the low, purring noise continued.

it only lasted for a few seconds but to sukuna, it felt like many, many hours..

the scratching had him nearly hypnotized - and he was already closing his eyes, forgetting all about his horrible day. you silently watched as the curse’s pink slit brows curled apart from its usual furrow, and you could almost see his pout turning into a tiny smile.

it’s a half-almost smile, and sukuna’s starting to feel himself eventually falling asleep.

“such a cat,” you teasingly mumbled, hearing his ragged breaths suddenly come to a mesmeric slow. sukuna deeply sighs, cool puffs of air from his nostrils falling against your thighs. you weren’t sure if he was fully asleep or not, so you gave him a soft poke.

nothing.

giggling, you laid back against his throne as he remained in his same spot—head laid on your thighs as he was kneeling before you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna so relaxed. he’s usually so angry - so full of hate and uncontrollable rage but now, he looks finally at peace.

at peace in his favorite spot - between your thighs.

in a soft lulling voice, you gave his head a small pat before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “i love you, ‘kuna. sleep well.”

“hng- i love …. you too, little one.” he’d groggily reply, pressing plush lips against the crevice of your thigh.

“never talk about this again, by the way. or els-”

you interrupt his tiny threat by scratching behind his ear one more time and sukuna purrs even louder than before. it’s more high-pitched this time, and he opens his eyes before a pink tint spreads across his face once he realized he purred again.

“d- damn it..”

✧˚ ༘ Falling asleep next to him ft. Tsukishima Kei

⇢fluff, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy), written this with post-timeskip Tsukki in mind, your honor they're idiots in love, they want each other bad. anyway, self indulgent short drabble

Tsukishima thinks his heart is going to explode from how close you are to him. The room is silent and you're haf-asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, smelling of his shower products and he almost doesn't mind the sweet, lingering trace of alcohol on your breath.

When you invited him and Yamaguchi to a party that night to celebrate the end of exam season he initially wanted to refuse, but the thought of you going only with his friend, getting hit on by random guys at the club didn't sit right with him. So he tagged along and watched you dance and chat up whoever was willing to spare you the time of day. To say he was irritated would be an understatement but Tsukishima knew better than to comment on your behavior; he knew how easily you sulked and pouted until you got your way. And you always ended up getting your way with him– he liked you that much, though he never found the words to tell you. He had to basically drag you home that night, helping you take off your makeup while you sat on the edge of the bathtub, complaining about your headache. It was Yamaguchi's idea to let you stay the night at their flat considering the state you were in. Tsukishima wanted to point out that you weren't in fact that drunk, just tipsy, but he held his tongue. He couldn't waste an opportunity to keep you by his side just for a little longer. So after you showered and joined him in bed, he was finally faced with the reality of it all.

You're here, pressed up against him, your nose nudging against his jaw as you shift around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels warm, too warm, his palms sweaty as he adjusts, rolling on his side to give you more space. His hand comes up to your waist to prevent you from completely rolling over him and the little breathy hum you let out at the touch is a low blow. Tsukishima has always been analytical, trying to make sense of the world through logic and his sharp mind almost never failed him. But what can he do when his brain is basically mush, heart thumping so fast he's afraid you'll hear it if you lay your head on his chest? He tells himself to go to sleep, just close his eyes, take a deep breath and calm down but he can't— not when you're so close and fit so well against him.

And then you speak, a breathy, barely audible whisper of his name and his resolve crumbles. "Yea?" he says back, pressing his forehead against yours, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

"d'you have some water? My throat feels dry."

He nods as you cough, slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. By the time he returns you're already propped on your arm and he can see you blinking slowly in the soft moonlight.

"Here you go. Drink up." he mumbles, fingers brushing against yours when you take the glass and bring it to your lips, emptying it in a few greedy gulps. "Jesus... slow down, it's all yours." You give him a glare and set the glass down as he joins you under the blanket again.

"I was thirsty ok? Plus my head hurts so bad. Can't you give me some paracetamol?"

"Not when you've still got alcohol in your system, dummy. I'll give you one in the morning." he huffs, slipping his hands into your hair to massage your scalp before you get to complain more.

Kei's thumbs rub against your temples, soothing the dull ache and you finally relax, your protests melting on your tongue as you close your eyes again. "There, better?" he whispers and you nod, cuddling up against his chest. "Yea, thanks Tsukki. You're a saviour."

"A saviour, really?" he teases and you chuckle.

"You know what I mean."

And Tsukishima knows– at least he hopes he does. Hopes that behind that little sleepy smile and content expression of yours lays a feeling akin to his. But he pushes down those thoughts, leaving them for tomorrow because he's finally starting to fall asleep and as his breath settles and his eyes flutter shut, Tsukishima promises himself that one day he'll get you to sleep by his side every night.

It was too much.

The noise. The people. No personal space.

You were feeling a little more than burnt out from a weekend that was meant to be fun.

Morning walks for coffees and croissants. A few hours around the pool. A few at the beach. Riding bikes along the boardwalk. Games and rides. Eating all the food.

And it was fun, but you were tired.

Eddie was climbing into bed, your bed, with its dark bedding and soft pillows.

He yanks the hair tie out of his hair, dark curls falling from the bun it was in from the drive home, tossing it on the bedside table.

“Feels so good to be home,” he sighs as he sinks into the pillows, meeting your eyes with a smile lighting up his face.

Pulling the socks off your feet, you crawl into bed, immediately gluing yourself to his side.

Eddie pulls the warm comforter over you both, keeping his other arm tight around you.

Digging your face into his chest, you breathe in the scent there, Sandalwood mixed with something that is all Eddie, soothing the racing thoughts and nerves.

You tangle your leg with his, hooking your ankle in place. Your hand slides under his hoodie, traveling over his soft tummy and dusting of hair, making its way to where his heart beats steadily.

You close your eyes and feel the thumpthumpthump, breathing in time to the rhythm.

Silence fills the air for a while before Eddie breaks it with a gentle whisper.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you hum your reply as you lift your head slightly, bumping his chin like a cat seeking affection.

You press a kiss to his chest before laying your head back down, running a hand over the space where his heart lies, playing with the hairs there.

“If you wanted to get your hands on me, all you had to do was ask,” he mutters with sleep filling his voice and a goofy smirk on his face.

You shove him playfully as he giggles deliriously, the lack of good sleep over the weekend finally hitting him.

He drifts off not even five minutes later, gentle snores leaving him with the occasional sigh.

With one final press into him, wishing you could crawl into his skin, to really be one with him, you close your eyes.

Hoping to meet him in the dream world.

eddie doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.

it reminds him of his late mother, who had the same gorgeous untamed curls. She used to comb his hair when he was little, being ever so gentle and taking her time brushing out the knots.

his father made him feel less-than for just about everything about him, including his gorgeous mane. Called him awful names and always told him to ‘cut that fairy shit’ when it grew too long.

so, ever since she passed, and his father went to jail, hes been growing it.

unfortunately, she never taught him how to take care of it, she’d always just do it herself. So, he doesnt put product in it, he doesnt cut it, he doesnt even brush it. And, stubborn as his mama, he doesnt let anyone else touch it either.

then you come along, happy and sweet, always loving to everyone. he falls in love with you so fast he hardly even notices. you certainly dont either.

one hot summer day you’re both in his room, you on his bed, him pacing, frantically explaining some sort of nerdy campaign idea. you dont know, you havent been listening for a while, too distracted by the way he keeps wiping sweat from the back of his neck. you cut him off rudely, he doesnt mind

“hey eddie?”

“sweetheart?”

“whens the last time you got a haircut?”

he freezes, silent, which is very out of character, dude never shuts up.

“uhh. like a few years ago. why?”

its your turn to be quiet, suddenly all coy. he finds you absolutely adorable as you stare at his floor, trying to find a way to ask him without startling him. as if he were some wild animal, which, he basically is.

“just.. immm noticinggg its kinda matted in the back…”

you try to sound the least accusing as you can. he doesnt seem offended but you can tell hes thinking.

“well, yeah, i. i guess i just havent touched it since. well my mom used to do it for me”

you feel like an ass, touching on something you shouldnt have, making him all quiet and sad. you backtrack.

“jesus, eddie, im sorry i didnt mean to-“

“its okay angel, i know”

he sits next to you. you give him a nervous smile, still sweet, hesitantly reaching for his curls. you can tell he’s hesitant too, but he nods, granting you permission. you take a single strand between your fingers, twirling it.

“Its so pretty, eds. ..would you let me? take care of it, i mean?”

hes scared. but youre so sweet and youre asking so nicely. a part of him is scared if he lets you, he loses another part of his mom. but the other part is staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but genuine affection.

“i.. i guess you could.. try.”

his heart pounds in his chest. You absolutely beam, thanking him immediately and bouncing around the room, looking for a brush. he laughs, shaking his head. you watch as he rummages through his closet, before handing you a light pink brush. you think about teasing him for it but he already looks vulnerable. you smile sweetly instead, taking it from him.

“sit” you point with the brush. he does as you say, running his hands up and down his thighs in a self soothing motion.

“its okay eds, you dont have to be nervous.. ill be gentle i promise” he gives you an unconvincing smile. you return with a guilty one, downturned. you kneel in front of him, in between his knees, brushing his bangs with your fingers.

“we can stop whenever you want, okay?” his cheeks are bright red as he nods timidly

you move to sit behind him, and run your hands through his curls gently, admiring it. you take a part, hold it at the root, and brush gently.

“that feel okay? tell me if it hurts” ever so sweet.

“mm-hm” you can feel his nervousness. “you- you remind me of her, y’know”

youre pretty taken aback, but honoured nonetheless. you keep brushing through the mattes in his hair as you talk.

“Yeah? Wanna tell be about her?” youre not sure if its the right thing to say, but you figure he probably hasnt told anyone about her. you can practically feel his energy shift.

“she was sweet. loving and kind to everyone, like you.” you both smile. “and she was pretty. beautiful. i really miss her.” you stop, rub his back a little.

“i can only imagine.. im sorry eddie.” he turns to face you, smiling.

“s’alright sweetheart. thanks for letting me talk about her” he hugs you. you hug him back, tight.

“hows the ole hair going?” He asks when he pulls back, a joking tone to lighten the mood.

“good!!! ive gotten the mattes outta this chunk here, it looks good. your hair is really beautiful, eds” youre ecstatic and it travels to him.

“thank you. my mom had the same hair.” he smiles, turning back around to let you continue.

“i bet she was really gorgeous.” youre extra-extra gentle. He keeps talking and you keep working. He tells you about how she smelled, the softness of her voice, his favourite memories with her. he tells you about the last time he saw her. he tells you all the things hes been holding inside, everything he never got to tell anyone, never trusted anyone enough. and when hes done, his hair is untangled and soft.

you smile proudly, running your hands through his hair, marveling at your work.

“its done” he whips around, looking at you with wide excited eyes

“really??” you nod, smiling wide. he runs over to the bathroom to see for himself. You stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder in the mirror. Hes surprised, looks like he might even cry. you wrap your arms around him, leaning your head against his arm.

“do you like it? Its a little poofy, but you can wash it out and it’ll look be-“ he cuts you off by turning around and hugging you. he hugs you tight, lifting you up.

“thank you.” you can tell he really means it.

boyfriend!kirishima who makes you his whole personality — it's honestly sickening how obsessed he is with you, and he doesn't even try to hide it. every conversation circles back to you somehow.

boyfriend!kirishima who never misses a chance to call you beautiful, no matter where you are or what you're doing. you could be in pajamas with messy hair, brushing your teeth, or covered in food — and he's still looking at you like you're the most radiant thing he's ever seen.

boyfriend!kirishima who gets ridiculously excited when he finds something that reminds him of you. he’ll send you twenty-five blurry photos of a weird-shaped rock because “it kinda looks like your cat” and he’s already named it. it's now living on his shelf. it's part of the family.

boyfriend!kirishima who insists on carrying your bags, opening every door for you, holding your hand when you cross the street — even if it's just a parking lot. proving chivalry isn't dead.

boyfriend!kirishima who sends you gym selfies, but not just any selfies — specifically of his biceps, flexing hard, with a cheeky caption like “thinking of you 💪❤️” because he knows you love it (and he lives to impress you).

boyfriend!kirishima who, when ordering for you or talking about you in public, casually refers to you as his wife. “yeah, my wife would love the fries” or “oh, my wife showed me that!” and he doesn’t care if people correct him — you’re his forever in his heart, so why wait?

boyfriend!kirishima who’s never afraid to try anything you suggest. even if he’s deathly afraid of heights, if you say you want to skydive, he’s already booking it with trembling hands and saying “as long as i’m with you.”

boyfriend!kirishima who checks in regularly throughout the day. little texts like, “don’t forget to drink water, okay?” and “you’ve got this. i’m so proud of you.” he sends affirmations like they’re love notes, because he wants to be the voice in your head that reminds you you’re doing amazing.

boyfriend!kirishima who lets you talk his ear off about anything and everything. even when you think he’s distracted, he’s soaking up every word, remembering little details to bring up later just to see your face light up.

boyfriend!kirishima who always talks about the future like it’s already decided — you and him, together. “once we’re living together, we can get a dog?” “maybe we can paint our bedroom that color.” he never lets you forget that he sees you in every part of his life.

boyfriend!kirishima who makes you the sweetest, most thoughtful diy gifts. a jar full of reasons he loves you, all handwritten. matching bracelets he stayed up all night making because he wanted them to be perfect. things that take time, effort, and love — because that’s how he loves you: completely.

more of my works here

© plushieni do not copy, steal, translate, repost any of my work

lil blurb about high!eddie being.. eddie.

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his finger pokes you in the side and you flinch, turning around to face him. a frown takes shape on your face immediately once you see the shape he’s in.

“eddie? what time is it? why are you still awake?”

eddie’s sat on the bed next to you, holding his knees to his chest, his index finger pointing out like he’s ready to poke you again. his eyes are wide and wild. you can see how red his scleras are even with how dim the light coming into his room is.

sighing, “go to sleep.” you say as you close your eyes again only to feel him poke you on your close lids a little too hard. “eddie!”

forced to wake up, you sit up on your elbows, staring at him as he sits motionlessly. only his eyes following your every breath.

after a moment’s silence and a staring contest in the near darkness, he speaks.

“i want string cheese.” he pokes you again, this time in the boob.

you slap his hand and roll your eyes at him. he always gets this way when he’s high. “then go to the kitchen and let me sleep.”

persistently, he pokes your arm, his finger digging deep into your flesh. “i want you to come with me.”

“yeah in your dreams.” you grab his wrists one by one and force his hands into his pajama pants’ pockets. he just watches you with his big eyes, pupils blown wide.

“please please please” he begs whiningly, his voice getting higher with each word. “please come and watch me eat string cheese.” you can’t help but chuckle at his silly desperation. he’s on the verge for tears for string cheese.

“eddie i’ve got work tomorrow.” you try to reason with him though it’s doubtlessly futile.

“it won’t take long i eat fast like this.” he tries to show you but he forgot how to take his hands out of his pockets so now he’s fake chewing, and doing it slower than he thinks he is, while his hands are moving under the fabric of his pockets. “come with me and you’ll see.”

you stifle your laugh, the static expression stuck on his face making the whole situation funnier than it should be. “the kitchen is like two feet away. just go.” pushing on his shoulders, you try to move him but he’s as stiff as a rock.

“i can’t go alone.” his thoughtless eyes peer into your sleepy ones. “i have separation anxiety.”

you stare at him dumbfoundedly for a few seconds. wordlessly trying to make sense of your boyfriend’s words before you burst into laughter. cackling like you’re the one who’s been hitting joints for the last three hours and he just stares at you. blank faced.

“i can’t go without you.” he whines as you try to collect yourself, barely suppressing your laughs as you remove the blanket off your warm body.

“get up.” you say and he’s on his feet in seconds. standing like a ghost, following you like a shadow as you make your way towards the kitchen.

you cross your arms over your chest, leaning your hip by the counter. “go ahead. eat your string cheese.”

you hear the fridge door open and the sounds of cheese being pulled out of its plastic wrapper, slightly shaking your head at the silliness of the situation.

“hey, turn around.” eddie says and you sigh in fake annoyance.

“what do you want now?”

“i want you to watch me eat string cheese.”

and you do.

you watch eddie put string after string of cheese in his mouth, chewing it as slow as a sloth. keeping direct eye contact the whole time. his face is as still as a painting, only blinking once tears spread over the surface of his eyes. you want to laugh the whole time but keep fighting it.

this is so ridiculous but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“i’m done now.” he says before putting the cheese back in the fridge then he looks back at you in the same robotic stare. “i want you to come and watch me pee.”

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tags: @hazzaismyreligion @fantastic-fox @sugarheart-riot @phyllosilicate-s @becca-alexa @quinnsfae14 @munson-enthusiast @lovinvane @ficsbypix @josephfakingquinn @munsonluvrr @eddies-puppet @mattyhealyssideburn @flawiette @cozmiccass @witchwolflea @musicmoviestv @andrearose89 @ethereal-eddie86 @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @miss-mouse99 @joeydoeeyes

Eddie’s bedroom.

The world didn’t end, he graduated and his room is still as messy as ever ♡

Hey sweetheart! You take requests at the moment? I'm currently healing from surgery (ow) and I just want some fluffy Eddie fussing over me/reader

One fluffy blurb, coming right up! I hope you get well soon 🥰

Warnings: Reader is recovering from surgery, mention of prescribed medication, mention of spicy activities, Eddie is a big ol' mush of a boyfriend

WC: 750

--

The sound of a handbell clanging has Eddie up from the sofa in a heartbeat. He’s learned your communication system over the last few days: one ring means you want some company, two means you’re hungry or need to use the bathroom, and three indicates an emergency. 

This was a three-ring. 

“Sweetheart?” There’s no camouflaging the alarm in his voice as he pushes into the bedroom. He finds you propped up against the pillows, book in hand. “What’s the matter? Are you dizzy again?”

You shake your head. “Could you get me a snack?” The doctor advised against taking the pain medication on an empty stomach, and you had no intention of breaking that rule. “Maybe some pretzels? Or a slice of toast with jelly?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief. “You rang the bell three times,” he explains, soft irritation clipping his words. “I thought something was wrong.”

Glancing at the bell tucked against your thigh, you frown. “No, I only rang it twice. Or, wait…shit, I did ring it three times.” You exhale, sliding your bookmark between the pages and offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“S’okay.” He plops down onto the bed, careful not to jostle your elevated leg. “Just…give me a sec to get my heartrate back down to normal.” Hand to his chest, he takes deep, exaggerated breaths that have you giggling. 

“I mean, I could find something urgent,” you tease. “Maybe I’ll try walking without the crutches, or I can take out my stitches…”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles in a combination of disbelief and disgust. “Bullshit,” he counters. 

“Bullshit?”

“Bull. Shit.” He grins, gently poking your bicep. “You got all queasy that time you had to pull out a splinter, and you expect me to believe you can remove your own stitches?”

You let out a defeated groan. “Ugh, fine.” He knows you too well, and you love him for it. 

He gives you a triumphant kiss on the cheek and starts towards the kitchen. “Anything else the fair maiden needs while I’m up? More water? Ginger ale? Perhaps some champagne and caviar?” His eyes light up mischievously at the last suggestion. 

“I’m not supposed to drink on these meds,” you quip, playing right into his charade. 

“We’ll take a raincheck on the champagne, then.”

You shift back slightly, wincing as pain shoots through your leg. The surgery hurt more than the injury, and part of you wishes you had just muddled through and hobbled around instead of getting it fixed. 

Eddie returns a few minutes later with toast that’s just the right shade of burnt and slathered in strawberry jelly. He has a glass of water in his other hand, though you hadn’t asked for any. 

He places both on the snack table he’s set up next to the bed before reaching over and grabbing the bell. He rings it one time, loud and purposeful. 

“Can I help you?”

Nodding, he sits down. “I’m bored and need someone to talk to.” He rests his head on his pillow and pouts. “Entertain me?”

“There’s not much going on here.” You shrug, scanning the room for a conversation topic. He’s been taking care of you nonstop, and surgery recovery doesn’t exactly make for riveting discussions. Your eyes land on a magazine. “I read some interesting articles in Cosmo, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie waggles his brows. “Anything spicy?”

You flip to an article that provides explicit details on giving the perfect blowjob and point to the page. “This one was pretty raunchy.”

He studies it just long enough to read the headline before tossing it aside. “You don’t need any help with that. Trust me.” He smirks knowingly. “You probably could’ve written that article yourself.”

“Good to know.” Exhaling, you look over at him. “You can go hang out with the guys if you want. Or they can come over here, as long as they’re not too loud.”

You expect him to jump at the offer; anything to cure his bout of boredom, but he declines. “Nah, I’m good right here.” He snatches up the magazine once more and thumbs through it. “Besides, I need to find out what color palette matches my skin tone.”

“Eddie—”

He cuts you off with his pointer finger. “Shhh. This is life-changing stuff, Sweetheart. I mean, what if I’m…an ‘autumn,’ but I’ve been wearing ‘winter’ this whole time?” His face contorts in mock horror. “Talk about tacky.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

You absolutely do. 

--

MATCHING — KEI TSUKISHIMA. gender neutral reader, fluff, no warnings.

i wrote this lowkey on a whim and realized such cute things while writing it. thank you furudate for making such fun characters to analyze. happy valentines!

though he wont admit it, kei tsukishima likes enjoying and understanding the same things as the people he cares about. though he’s grown to act all nonchalant, inside he’s an affectionate loser who actually cares a lot.

he only acts so distant to seem cool, (or cause he’s developed trust issues) but honestly all it takes is some time for him to really let loose around someone. pester him enough, and he might miss you.

“hey, look at this” he calls over to you, making you shift your gaze away from the stationary you were looking at. once fully turned, you see his hands holding onto two matching keychains.

you quirk an eyebrow, ready to tease. “keychains huh? you wanna match or something? it’d be cute, considering you have matching bags with yamaguchi… why not match something with me too?” you smile, talking as you get ahold of one of the keychains.

“sure” he replies flat. “and i know you like this animal so… i think that’s an extra point”

you blink, not even realizing that what he grabbed is in fact a cute keychain of your favorite animal. it’s furry and soft against your fingers, making you more endeared towards it. “damn, i didn’t even notice that. you actually remember?”

he scoffs, almost offended. “yeah? you think i wouldn’t? i’m your boyfriend”

you roll your eyes. “okay true… but i didn’t think information like this would matter that much. but i’m super flattered th—”

“if you don’t stop yapping i’m just gonna go buy these. find me when you’re done” he says before swiftly grabbing the keychain from your hand and walking to your opposite side.

you let out a yelp. “hey wait— what!? come back i never said you could pay for both of us!”