Eddie Munson is the type of person that would make eye contact with you and nod his head along when you're speaking amongst a group of people and they've stopped listening to you.
Eddie Munson is the type to say, "Hey, you were saying?" when you're interrupted.
Eddie Munson is the type who would make you feel included and seen because he knows what it's like to be left out.
Eddie Munson is the type who would never let you walk behind or on the road when there's not enough space on the sidewalk for more than two people. He's linking hands with everyone and moving in a line! Or everyone's walking on the road, bitch!
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.
summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.
warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.
wc: 2.5k+
a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink
It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.
Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.”
Until that damn game.
When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections.
“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle.
“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“
“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”
For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now.
“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“
“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”
You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.
More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention.
“Fine.”
The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.
He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.
“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not.
“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?”
“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”
“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”
“Well that makes one of us.”
Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”
He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration.
Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t.
You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“
“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.”
He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.
“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you.
He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.
Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend.
“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“
He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.
You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”
“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?”
You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized.
God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.
“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.”
He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not. You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.
“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”
His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.
“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice.
The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.
You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight.
And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.
You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game.
“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.”
If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation.
But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat.
Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.
When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.
He bites.
Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.
You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?
If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.
He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture.
Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of.
“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault.
He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent.
Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of.
“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it.
“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.”
Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.”
He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”
“I do not-”
He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point.
“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.”
You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.”
“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”
“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.”
His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.
“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.”
Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.
He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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miya atsumu is down bad. catastrophically. embarrassingly. so much so that even osamu—his own flesh and blood, who should be on his side—has started calling him pathetic.
“yer makin’ it so obvious,” osamu mutters as they watch you from across the gym. you’re laughing at something suna said, and atsumu feels a pang of jealousy so deep he nearly keels over.
“am not,” atsumu grumbles, but his eyes are still locked on you, hands on his hips like a lovesick fool.
“yer starin’ at her like she’s the last bowl of ramen on earth,” osamu deadpans.
she might as well be, atsumu thinks. you’re the team’s manager, but to him, you’re his manager. you bring him extra water when he’s been pushing himself too hard, you tell him to rest when he’s being stubborn, and you always—always—greet him with that bright smile that makes his heart do backflips.
“atsumu,” you call, jogging over. his name sounds so sweet when you say it, and he straightens up immediately. “want some water?”
atsumu nearly malfunctions. “yes,” he says, a little too enthusiastically. he takes the bottle from you, fingers brushing, and if he were a weaker man, he’d be on the floor.
you tilt your head, smiling. “you okay?”
“perfect,” he breathes, and osamu groans.
suna walks by, muttering, “get a grip, miya.”
but atsumu doesn’t care. because when you turn away, you glance back—just for a second—and grin.
and miya atsumu is done for.
big fan of a good shit-eating grin. like a ruckus-causing, pot-stirring type of grin. a smile that truly fucks around and finds out. anyway
Eddie is like those little kids who say "watch this" and precede to show you the lamest thing you've ever seen.
You're hopelessly in love with him, so every time you're like, "That's my man. Wow, amazing."
Anytime in a group situation, anyone tries to tell him otherwise, you cough loudly and glare daggers.
EDDIE MUNSON’S ♡ LOVE GUIDE ♡
contents: this is a little guide/headcannon on what it’s like for our beloved eddie munson to have a crush or date someone. this is somewhat similar to the a-z sfw/nsfw lists i did a little while ago but a little more detailed and strung together. word count - 782
notes: this was so fun to make i wish eddie was my bf :( enjoy!
other works (that are similar): three songs | a-z sfw list
⟡ what it's like for eddie to have a crush ⟡
eddie is the type of guy to be boldly flirty with someone that he’s interested, having no fear to compliment you or make suggestive comments. however, when you approach him or make flirty comments to him, eddie shuts down not knowing how to respond/function.
eddie believes in chivalry still, so he wants to make the first move but he never knows how. he’ll overthink to his friends, day after day, trying to navigate how to ask you out without being weird. his friends get annoyed with him, often rolling their eyes as he talks about you for the thousandth time that day. they wish either of you would just make a move so they can stop hearing your name being mentioned by eddie.
eddie also hates when he has a crush because he can physically feel himself become obsessed, taking any opportunity to spot you across the hallways in school or stare at the back of your head or profile of your face while he sits in class. he feels himself go from being the nerd, or the freak as people refer to him, to being a lovesick puppy, ready to serve you at any moment. he also becomes flirty and nervous, blushing like crazy as you make eye contact with him or flirt. god, he has such a love hate relationship with having a crush. can’t you just be his already?
when eddie asks you out, finally, he’s flustered and jumbles his words as he speaks quickly. “would you want to go out with me sometime? like on a date?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. his stomach is knots, full of angst, as he exposes his deep admiration for you. when you smile, nodding eagerly, he feels instant relief and his mind is quick to beginning planning how he’ll create the best date you could ever go on.
⟡ what it's like for eddie to date someone ⟡
when eddie dates someone, he is the most sweetest bf in the entire world. he’s so concerned with gf, making it obvious that he cares for you deeply. he’ll always ask if you’ve eaten or if you’re hungry. he’ll let you play your “girly pop” music as he refers to the music you listen to, even though he can’t stand it because he loves you so much.
eddie loves giving you affection; in public, he’ll hold your hand or put his arm around you, make even a little kiss on the cheek. he isn’t the biggest fan of public affection but he also likes to make it known that you’re his. in private, however, he’s awfully romantic and cheeky. he loves to make out with you, letting time pass by as you engage with each other’s mouths, his hands roaming around your body.
eddie feels so safe with you as his girlfriend, knowing he can be vulnerable and nerdy in front of you. he know’s you’ll listen to him nerd out about his d&d trials and updates on how the hellfire is dealing with the watch of vecna.
eddie also nicknames you early on in your relationship, wiping your name from his mouth. you’re “baby” or “princess” to eddie, the affectionate names rolling off his tongue with ease. occasionally, eddie says “my sweet girl,” loving how your face relaxes and a smile appears when he calls you that. he knows it’s your favorite nickname but he saves it for rainy days when you’re feeling extra low and need a pick up.
our precious eddie also likes to include you in things he likes. eddie is quick to introduce you to his hellfire club friends, making sure you are well aquatinted with them and know they’re now your friends too. eddie also introduces you to the members in his band; making it clear that he requests your presence, every week, when they perform at the hideaway. you always go, of course. the biggest deal of all, though, is that he lets you mess around on his most prized possession - his guitar.
to be the best bf possible, eddie is sure to spoil you relentlessly. he brings you things that reminds him of you, or make you little birdhouses while he’s in wood shop class. he’ll make mixtapes of songs he hears and thinks you’ll like or bring you to your favorite restaurant after school. eddie will even risk his life, aka climbing up the short trellis that’s against your house up to your window, to visit you when your parents won’t let you go out. eddie will do anything and everything - you’re his princess after all.
Clingy!Satoru who calls you every night that you're not in his bed, so he can snuggle his pampered butt into bed and fall asleep to your voice; cheek squished comfortably into the pillow, murmuring soft and sleepy I miss yous into his pillow while you adore him through the screen.
Clingy!Satoru who liplocks you like he's trying to glue himself to you. His lips never want to leave yours, there's always a reluctancy when he pulls away from a kiss and oh, the way he pleads for kissy marks — he wants to be decorated in them, "More please... here, and here... and here... huh? It won't look goofy; it's my lady's lipstick. I'm gonna show off your marks to everyone."
Clingy!Satoru who stands behind you in a queue — because you "look too good from the back" and he needs to block the people behind you from getting a good view of what belongs to him. With a dorky smirk on his face, his fingers nip at the back of your clothes, his eyes obsess over every inch of you from your head to your shoes.
In public, especially in long queues, Satoru leans down to your neck and speaks to you with his lips grazing your skin.
Clingy!Satoru who keeps his arms around you while the two of you are talking in a group, his biceps pressing at your sides. He habitually grazes his fingers over your tummy, stopping and smirking each time he receives a swat from you.
Clingy!Satoru who trots after you, tall stature lingering in your shadow, following as you pave the way to wherever it is you're taking him. He'll clumsily bump into you from the back when you abruptly stop because he keeps such a terrible tailing distance.
Clingy!Satoru who is glued to your body in bed even during a heatwave. It always plays out the exact same way every night:
You're sweating, the air is too thick. But Satoru doesn't care; he clings to your back despite being a literal heater himself.
"Satoru." you swat him away for the fifth time. He groans and inches away — but a few minutes later he's scooching back into spooning position.
"Satoru, seriously. You're too hot."
"I know." he smiles against the nape of your neck, arms wrapped firmly around you.
Swat.
Hi!!!
Could you write jealous!eddie x reader…🫣
I’m down so bad for this man istg
ty for requesting :D i too am down bad for this man — grump!eddie can't believe other people get to look at you (jealous!eddie, established relationship, 1.7k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
Eddie thought the comic book section of Family Video was the coolest thing in the world until he met you. And it’s weird ‘cause now you’re all he can think about. He’s holding a collector’s item in his hands, but all he can see is you — and how close you’re standing to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.
The boy lays two VHS tapes on the counter before you, each packaged in a thick plastic case. My Neighbor Totoro and The Land Before Time. He waits for you to make an impossible choice while you idle just ahead of him, elbows propped on the countertop with your head in your hands. Your wide-eyed gaze darts between the two options.
Your head shakes between your palms. “I can’t decide,” you conclude, rising to full height with a final huff. “It’s like choosing your favorite child.”
“Well, good thing you don’t have to,” Steve quips with a lopsided smirk. His nose scrunches, and it makes his honey eyes sparkle. “‘Cause you’re getting both. On the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, brows pinched in a quiet sort of protest.
He drops the tapes into a plastic bag, then shrugs like his hand slipped. “Too late.”
“Won’t your boss get mad?”
“What Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me,” you agonize, face twisted with every bit of it.
Steve meets your worry with a wider, pink grin. He bounces a shoulder and jostles the nametag pinned haphazardly to his emerald vest. “I’ll be fine, alright? I’m strong— I can take one of Keith’s stupid lectures.”
Your hesitant fingers brush his golden ones when you take the bag from him. “You’re so brave, Steve Harrington,” you lilt with a teasing glint in your eye, tilting your cheek to your shoulder to feign sincerity.
“The bravest, actually,” the boy jokes in return.
Eddie watches all this play out from where he lingers at the comic book stand. A whole rack of his favorite superheroes, and he isn’t paying an ounce of attention to a single one.
He was only halfway listening at first, still mostly focused on the cartoon in his hands — if only to pretend he wasn’t completely eavesdropping on your conversation. But now he’s outright staring the two of you down, with an unabashed glare pointed at the asshole flirting with his girl.
“God, he’s disgusting,” Eddie grumbles under his breath when Steve says something that makes you laugh.
He’s not talking totally to himself. Not entirely, anyway. Dustin’s crouched just beside him in search of one of the newer comics that he swears Keith is hiding from him. “He’s just being nice,” the curly-haired boy reasons with a shrug, obviously distracted as he flips through a stack of flimsy magazines.
Eddie scoffs and finally turns away from you to look at the boy below him. He blinks for the first time in several minutes as he shoots the kid a deadpan stare. “Oh, so it’s not because he thinks my girlfriend’s hot?”
“He’s definitely doing it because she’s hot,” Dustin answers without thinking twice.
“Watch it, Henderson.”
“You asked!” he argues, tilting his chin to look up at Eddie with a wide, ocean-eyed stare. “I’m just saying. Steve’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do that to you— Now, can you please help me find this stupid comic book before I lose my mind?”
Eddie huffs. He decides it might be healthier to distract himself with this metaphorical treasure hunt than stare daggers at you and Steve from across the room. “Which one are you looking for again?”
“Metamorpho— The original. Not the stupid reprint that just came out.”
The older boy stills. He closes the comic book between his palms with one pale hand until the cover of it flips down. Metamorpho, the vibrant cover reads, The Element Man. He’d been too busy looking at you, he hadn’t realized he’d been hiding the thing from Dustin for five whole minutes.
“Is this it?” Eddie murmurs, shoving the thing in the boy’s face.
Dustin’s head shoots up. He snatches the thing from the boy’s grip and gapes at it, with all his practiced teenage boy dramatics. “You had it the entire time?!” he shouts, but Eddie’s already sauntering to the front counter — where Steve’s still making you laugh.
As pretty as you are smiling (so much that it makes his chest ache), there’s a simmering anger burning orange in his chest. Making you laugh is his job. Not Harrington’s.
You seem to notice his presence before he’s even wrapped you in his arms. You flash him a beaming grin that makes his stomach whirl. He gets sick with it — with nostalgia or something equally tender.
The green of his envy starts to fade when he realizes you’re wearing his skull and cross-bones sweater, all bundled up in it like it’s yours. He feels a primal sense of ownership, knowing that you’re swaddled in something that belongs to him, knowing he has you in a way Steve doesn’t. It’s not every day the local freak gets to one-up the king.
“Ready to go?” Eddie grins, rosy and broad, as he wraps his arms around you in a loose, sideways embrace. The warmth of the proximity has your stomach doing backflips. The familiarity of his scent, musky and woody and smoky, makes your heart thud hard against your ribcage.
“Yep,” you nod, still smiling. “Steve’s letting me get the movies for free.”
Eddie’s lips smack against his teeth as his jaw drops in a feigned sense of awe. His wild curls bunch at his shoulder when his head tilts softly sideways, looking at the boy across the counter. “Aw,” he croons, high-pitched and sarcastic. “Isn’t that sweet?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Shut up before I revoke your comic stand privileges.”
Eddie squints. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, Munson.”
Eddie, deciding to be the bigger person, chooses to abandon the petty argument. He feels like the bigger person, anyway — like he’s ten feet tall, walking out of Family Video with you under his arm. He could lose a thousand arguments and still feel like a winner as long as he gets to crawl home to you.
You can’t help but notice how weird he’s being, though. There was a foreign bite behind his words as he spat his sarcasm at Steve. The tension follows you even now, as he opens the passenger side door of his van for you.
Eddie holds onto the rusted latch with a pale, tattooed hand. You turn to face him instead of planting yourself onto the chipping pleather seat. “Are you okay?” you ask, a subtle furrow between your brows when you peer at him from beneath your lashes.
The boy scoffs a boyish laugh, obviously overcompensating. “Yeah, I’m fine— what are you talking about?”
Your eyes narrow. “You’re being weird.”
“I think you’re being weird, doll— interrogating me outta nowhere.”
He expects you to laugh. Then he could tell you how pretty you are, and you’d be so flustered by the compliment that you’d forget this entire conversation ever happened. You don’t laugh, though. You don’t even crack a smile. You just keep staring at him.
“I’m fine,” Eddie groans, wild curls billowing when a breeze rolls by. He still tries to smile, though the bright pink expression doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He shrugs and tries to play it cool because anything less than that is so not metal. “I’m just… I’m just a little annoyed. That’s all.”
Your chest stings and your stomach starts to ache. Your mind reels as you try to understand what you could’ve done because the oh-so-sensitive you feels like it must be your fault.
“Annoyed at me?” you press in a tiny voice.
“No!” Eddie booms instantly, much louder than you. He quietens, but his face still swirls with protest. He could never be annoyed at you. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. “No— are you kidding? You’re perfect.”
He takes your face in his ringed hands, cradling your cheeks until they squish softly together. A perfect thing, indeed.
“Then what happened?” you mutter through your gently jutted lips.
The boy drops his chin to his chest and sighs. He hates that you care so much about him that you actually make him talk about his feelings. He’d much rather bottle them up and save ‘em for a rainy day. But no, you love him enough to pry the hidden emotion from his cold, black heart.
“I don’t know,” he answers first in an inaudible murmur, kicking at loose pebbles on the concrete because it’s easier than meeting your eyes. “Sometimes it gets annoying when… Other people look at you, I guess…”
He peeks at you beneath his long lashes, button eyes made of chocolate. They swim with a glittering emotion. Something tender and sheepish. He’s like a puppy when he looks at you this way. You can’t help but find him utterly adorable accordingly.
He’s a little surprised when his words make you laugh. He wasn’t joking, really, but he’s relieved to hear the honeyed sound. It runs over him like drops of summer rain and absolves him of all his envy.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can fix that,” you reply, smiling wide between his calloused palms.
“I know,” he whines, pouting softly. “And it sucks. ‘Cause you’re too pretty for your own good.”
You lean further into his warm hand. You blink at him with pretty eyes, and in a pretty voice, you wonder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that I only care when you’re looking at me? And that everyone else is basically invisible when you’re around?”
Eddie’s heart swells so much it starts to ache. You’ve awoken something in him — something that used to be dead before you came around, or something that didn’t exist at all. It’s something golden and made of velvet. Something warm and honeyed. Something that doesn’t have a name because you don’t even know you’ve invented it.
Despite trying not to smile too wide, a beam begins to pull at the corners of his mouth. A second later, and he’s grinning with all his teeth. He gets all shy, ducking his gaze as he nods at you. “Yeah, actually— that does make me feel a little better.”
You beam up at him, all lovesick and stupid. With your cheeks still in his hands, you rise to the tips of your toes and press a smacking kiss to the flushed apple of his cheek.
Eddie figures it doesn’t get more metal than this.
characters: ushijima, iwaizumi, sakusa
warnings: timeskip! also not beta-ed
note/s: i do not feel like writing a new piece rn so here's a lil repost from my old account (2)
(suna, atsumu, bokuto)
ushijima:
ushijima tried his hardest not to look as if he wasn't bored in the ongoing interview. well, he wasn't. but he has been told by their manager that his resting face looks very unapproachable.
he was fiddling with his fingers as the rest of his team members were answering fan questions. letting out a small smile whenever he finds some questions funny and the way that kourai reacts overdramatically.
"ah, here's a question for big boy, wakatoshi!" kourai announced as he squinted his eyes on the influx of questions.
"yes?" ushijima responded, sitting up a bit more upright.
"is your girlfriend single?" kourai bit his lip as he tried not to laugh at the question.
the spiker furrowed his eyebrows in thought.
"i do not have a girlfriend." was all he said.
the atmosphere was silent as the rest of his team looked at him in shock and mostly worry.
ushijima noticed and looked around the room to see the camera staff and team looking at him.
"what?"
"you just said..." kageyama trailed off, hesitant to continue.
"you broke it off with (y/n)?!" kourai interrupted.
ushijima frowned, as if that was the most absurd thing he heard.
"(y/n) and i are happily engaged. she is my fiancé." ushijima said plainly, as if he didn't just cause the live chat box to spam with shocked and congratulatory messages.
"and you didn't tell us?!" if anyone was the most offended, it would be kourai.
"i thought the ring was obvious. kageyama has told me it looked nice." the team's heads whipped to kageyama who spluttered on how he didn't know it was an engagement ring.
ushijima hummed. "it seems like i have not announced this."
"you think?" he hears kourai's retort but pretended not to.
"me and (y/n) are engaged, therefore, she is now my fiance and not my girlfriend." ushijima said to the camera. "i hope this clarifies my answer." a few more questions were answered, mostly questions in regards to you and ushijima’s engagement before the staff announced that the livestream was over.
“that was a terrible way of announcing that you are engaged.” he hears his captain mutter. ushijima nodded in acknowledgement before heading home to you who was waiting to scold him after watching the livestream.
iwaizumi:
the trainer didn’t know how he was roped into answering WIRED questions when he wasn’t the one in court. he was already halfway when the staff gave him a new board but he was shocked to see that it was filled with questions not about him, but about you.
“your fans wanted to know about your relationship with (y/n).” hoots from outside the camera’s view were heard, iwaizumi internally sighed, knowing that this would be fuel for the team to tease their trainer.
“let’s get this over with.” the trainer says before ripping the first tape from the board. “is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… staged?” he gave a deadpan expression to the camera.
“(y/n) has been with me since we were third years, waited for me to return to japan after leaving for california and is currently living with me in our apartment. yes, our relationship is staged.” iwaizumi said sarcastically as he held the second tape by his fingertips.
“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… oikawa’s ex. what?” he didn’t know whether the staff is being serious as he gave another unimpressed look.
“no, i’m her first boyfriend and the last.” he smirked at his promise, the staff already knew that that alone will become a trending snippet.
he answered a few more questions in haste, don’t get him wrong. he loves you but he would rather keep details about your relationship private.
“aight, last one.” iwaizumi ripped the last piece of tape off the board.
“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… single?” he raised a brow at that question.
“where the hell are you getting these questions?” iwaizumi asked rhetorically. “these are the most searched questions about your girlfriend.” one of the staff answered him.
iwaizumi shook his head in disbelief. “wow… you’d think people actually unironically search for this.” he cleared his throat before looking straight at the camera.
“i’m going to say this for the last time. my girlfriend isn’t single and won’t be for the longest time before i make her my wife.” iwaizumi stated, voice clear as if he was determined.
the staff were clearly having a field day, knowing how much this episode will trend because of how whipped and dedicated the sought out trainer was for you.
the interview ended shortly. iwaizumi thanked the staff for having him only to be bombarded with a lot of comments filled with adoration towards your relationship. the trainer smiled before finishing up and heading home.
“you look happy.” you greet him by the door, iwaizumi scoffed playfully before pulling you by your waist and placing a soft kiss on your lips.
“of course i am, i come home to you.” iwaizumi thought of the comments from the staff, ‘marry her.’ was the comment that stuck to his mind.
he already had the ring in the bottom drawer, tucked away by his socks.
sakusa:
sakusa supposes that being an athlete involved having to deal with interviews. well, interviews that came with the sport, not whatever their team was currently doing.
sakusa, atsumu, hinata, and bokuto were sat down on chairs, a small metal bucket in the middle of them filled with numerous pieces of papers, printed tweets, to be exact.
“ooh, this is a good one! were bokuto and hinata close before msby?” bokuto read aloud before beaming at the camera and recollecting the memories from when they were in highschool.
“fun fact! we all knew each other in some way, waaaay back in high school.” bokuto said before atsumu and sakusa nodded in confirmation.
sakusa looked at the bucket as his teammates plucked random pieces of papers and answering them with ease. “why are sakusa’s wrists so flexible? please he could like… slap me and i would feel it twice in one motion. great, now all i’m thinking about it sakusa slapping me.” atsumu read aloud, voice turning a mocking pitch at the last sentence.
“it’s called hypermobility-” he paused as he saw bokuto and hinata look at him curiously. “otherwise known as being double-jointed. and no, i will not slap you. next tweet, please.”
“how boring, omi.” atsumu teased, sakusa rolled his eyes at the setter. “next. tweet.”
“okay, okay. calm down.” atsumu surrendered, bokuto plucked another piece of paper before reading it out loud.
“is sakusa’s girlfriend single? because i saw her in msby’s game against raijins and damn. if sakusa doesn’t wife her up immediately then i would gladly do the honors.” the whole room went silent after bokuto read the paper. the spiker’s eyes widened as he looked towards sakusa.
“i was only reading the tweet!”
“no. she isn’t, next question.” was only sakusa’s answer. his voice left no room for argument as atsumu hastily grabbed another piece of paper, moving on from the previous tweet.
the team believed that due to sakusa’s reaction, that segment would be removed. but to the surprise of everyone, it was part of the final cut and managed to blow up. the fans swooned on how territorial sakusa had been and there were a few feedbacks that sakusa’s eyes softened at the mention of your name in the video.
sakusa knew that, but he would never admit to it.
“so.” you start as you lie down next to your boyfriend as the both of you watch the interview. “territorial, huh.”
“you’re mine and you know it.” sakusa grumbled as he cuddled closer to your chest, watching the remaining few minutes.
“of course i am, ‘yoomi.” you reply, kissing the crown of his head and watching the interview once more.
eddie snuggles closer into you, and he thinks he's never been this warm before.
his face is pressed into your shoulder, hot breath splaying over your skin like a fan. and it's not just the warmth. it's the way your hand feels, slowly rubbing up and down his back. it's the little chuckle you share when something funny happens on the show you're watching. it's how it feels to be loved that makes him this warm.
he sighs softly, eyes fluttering open and closed, eyelashes tickling the skin of your neck.
"you seem cozy," you muse, kissing the top of his head.
"very," he murmurs, but it's so quiet he's not sure you've heard it.
you stop rubbing his back, and he whines, squirming until you laugh and continue your comforting movements. he thinks about moving to kiss you. but he doesn't want this moment to end. he doesn't want to move even an inch, he wants to live in this perfect, perfect moment for the rest of his life.
"do you love me?" he asks, wrapping a lazy arm over hips, and placing kisses on your shoulder, pouting when he feels them shake with laughter.
"every second, of every day," you answer, leaning into his untamed hair, pressing your cheek into him.
and you think, maybe you've never felt this warm before.
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just flexing the old writing muscles - maybe request something for a short thing like this ????
love you, miss you <3