Eddie Fell Asleep Watching TV

Obey Me X Ghibli but everyone is Howl because I said so

❦ TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF PT. 3

ft. iwaizumi, bokuto, suna

PART 1 | PART 2

—iwaizumi

shows up at 2:37am when you cant sleep with a bag of stuff he picked up from the convenience store on the way over. herbal teas, face masks, and snacks that he makes you as he tells you to find a feel good movie to put on. doesn’t matter that he needs to get up early the next morning, you’re spending the next couple hours pampering yourself until you fall asleep comfortably in his arms.

—bokuto

candids. all your friends follow him on instagram just because they think you’re the cutest couple in the world. on any given day he’s posting you on his story. a glimpse of your hands interlocked as he’s showing off his fit. you with the adorable dog you found on your walk together. your legs tangled together under the sheets as he shows the new tv show he’s binging. this man shows you off the the most subtle and wholesome way whether he’s conscious of it or not.

—suna

cooks for you. kind of. he’s not the best chef, but as soon as you mention something you like, he’s on the way to the grocery store, looking up the recipe online, and calling osamu for help. his favourite date is a night in where he pours you some nice wine and cooks for you, serving you a plate of whatever you’re craving with clumsily placed garnishes on the side that make you smile. doesn’t matter if it’s good or not, it’s filled with love.

want to read more? check out my masterlist

just a lil request for fluff with steve or eddie!

reader has very specific sleeping conditions and usually sleeps w a pillow between her legs and her pillows just so, but she forgets it one night staying over at steve/eddie’s house. she’s squirming and can’t get comfy and when he finally finds out what’s wrong he offers her his pillow. reader declines and then he puts his thigh between her legs and you’re just like oh😍😍

This one had me going FERAL. I kept it PG but this just hits the spot I swear. I went with Eddie for this one! wc 0.7k

Tossing and Turning

You rolled over in bed for maybe the sixtieth time that night. You tossed and turned, desperate not to wake up your boyfriend. Tonight was your first time staying the night at Eddie’s, so you had taken your time to prepare. You thought you had packed everything. Your toothbrush, pajamas, and clothes for the next morning were neatly packed into your backpack, giving you a false sense of security. But now, as the p.m. transitioned into the a.m., you could perfectly picture your king-sized pillow in the center of your bed. It mocked you in your mind, and while sleep weighed on your eyes, your body resisted.

Facing Eddie now, you admired his serenity. You envied him. Not a single thought in his head as he lightly snored next to you. His eyebrows had softened, and his mouth hung slightly agape. You hoped that if you watched him long enough, your body would catch it like sleep was contagious. But after some time, your body continued to refuse rest. You huffed back into your pillow, perhaps louder than you should have, adjusting again to face the wall.

“You’re moving a lot, baby,” you heard Eddie whisper.

You winced, silently cursing at yourself for waking him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you ok?” Eddie asked, adjusting himself onto his forearm.

You rolled back over. “I’m fine. I’m just having trouble sleeping is all.”

Eddie’s expression, though hard to pinpoint accurately in the dark, shifted to one of thoughtfulness. “You know, if you’re feeling nervous about this, it makes sense. It’s a big next step, and—”

“No, no,” you chuckled. “I’m good, Eddie. I feel really good about this.” You reached out for his hand. “I promise. It’s just… I forgot my pillow.”

“Your pillow?”

“It’s the only way I can sleep.”

“We can trade if that one isn’t good enough.”

“This one’s good. It’s my leg pillow I’m missing.”

“Your… leg pillow?”

You were losing him. You felt heat creep up to your cheeks. “I, uh, keep a pillow between my legs, and I swear it’s so comfortable. Here.” You took the pillow from your head and slotted it between your legs to demonstrate. “See? This should be fine, actually. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

“But now you don’t have a pillow.” Eddie frowned.

“It’s ok. I’m using my elbow. It’s fine.”

Eddie took his pillow from under him and slid it over to you. “Use this. I don’t need it.”

“I’m not taking your pillow.”

“You know I can sleep anywhere anyway, and you’re my guest. Take it, please.”

“I’m not taking your pillow!” you repeated.

“Baby,” he dragged.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “Get some sleep, ok?”

You rolled away once more to face the wall. You brought the pillow from your legs to your head, an unspoken admission of defeat.

You sighed softly to yourself. You tried to remain positive. All you needed was patience, and you were sure to fall asleep. Eddie’s willingness to give up his pillow for you was not lost on you. He was ever the gentleman, even at the expense of his own comfort. You couldn’t help the small smile forming on your lips. The gesture filled you with warmth. You settled into place, reveling in your growing fondness for this boy.

“Nuh-uh. This isn’t over,” Eddie said breaking the silence. His arms slipped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He nudged his knee between your legs causing you to gasp.

“Eddie!”

“Listen. I’m not just gonna let my girl suffer. Now, you have something to squeeze, and I have you to hold. It’s a win-win, really. Now, settle in.”

You were thankful for the dark, so Eddie couldn’t see the furious blush ravaging your features. You carefully adjusted yourself against his thigh, almost ashamed of the near-instant relaxation you were gaining from this. You peered over your shoulder to face him. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

“Of course, baby. I just want you comfortable. Now, try to sleep, alright?”

You nodded, a yawn already taking hold of you. You settled into Eddie’s touch, truly resting for the first time tonight. With the miracle work of Eddie’s thigh, you fell asleep within minutes.

You hold mr crawling’s face in your hands, caressing his cheeks as you watched him chirp and purr as he melted into your touch as he puts his hand atop of yours, keeping you where he needed you most.

‘I will kill for you I hope you know that.’ You said all of a sudden and mr crawling stopped to look at you with an adorable frown on his lips.

‘Kill for me?’ Crawling asked in his unique way.

‘Yes. You keep safe.’ You replied in an attempt to communicate in the only way he could understand. ‘Must have you safe.’ You add and mr crawling smiled widely as he patted your hands in excitement while letting out a laugh.

‘You keep safe.’ Mr crawling then said as he moved to cuddle himself up to your chest, listening to your heartbeat. ‘Keep this safe.’ He adds as he nuzzles his head against your chest and you couldn’t help but bundle him in your arms and kiss his head multiple times, breathing in your own shampoo and conditioner lingering in his hair.

‘We keep safe.’ You muttered to him as you run your hand up and down his back, feeling him tighten his grip on your waist as he made himself comfortable atop of you for a man of his tall stature. ‘Keep safe.’ Mr crawling murmurs softly against you as a calm befell you both as you enjoyed each others company, safe under some layers of soft blankets and soft kisses planted on the others skin in praise and appreciation for one another; Such simple pleasures are the ones you treasure the most.

BatEddie!!

“you are on the couch tonight, riley!” you shout, pointing a finger toward the living room. simon stands there, his jaw clenched, hands clenched at his sides, clearly unhappy but resigned.

there’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes, masked quickly with his usual steely glare. he just nods, not saying a word, as he grabs a blanket from the closet and settles down on the couch without another look your way.

the apartment feels colder without him by your side, and the silence that follows is louder than any argument. you lie in bed, your head turned to the wall, arms crossed tightly as if that could keep out the ache creeping in.

you feel miserable, thinking over the fight, wondering if you were too harsh, if maybe he wasn’t entirely in the wrong. but you bury it, refusing to let yourself soften too quickly. this isn’t the first time you two have fought; being with simon means loving him as he is, stubbornness and all.

but tonight, it feels different. minutes stretch into hours, and you find yourself glancing at the empty side of the bed, missing his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. you turn over again, clutching the pillow tighter, but it doesn’t help.

meanwhile, simon’s on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, a sigh slipping out into the darkened room. his mind replays the fight in quiet fragments, the words that had been said, your voice still ringing in his ears.

he knows he messed up, though he’d never admit it to anyone but himself. he misses you too, even if pride keeps him rooted to the couch, where the cushions dig into his back, and sleep refuses to come.

after another endless stretch, you finally can’t take it anymore. you get up, padding softly into the living room. simon’s form is a dark silhouette against the dim light from the window, his breathing shallow, not quite asleep. he hears you but doesn’t move, as if afraid to let hope show too early.

“simon…” your voice is quiet. you see his shoulders tense before he slowly drops his arm from his eyes, looking up at you. his gaze is guarded, but there’s an unmistakable softness there, a glint of something like regret.

“can’t sleep either, huh?” he mutters, breaking the silence, his voice rough from the hours of silence.

you shake your head, and without another word, he shifts to make space. you sit beside him and lean against him, letting your head rest on his shoulder, and after a beat, his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer.

“i’m sorry baby,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper.

“me too,” you murmur, feeling the tension melt away as he holds you tighter.

neither of you says anything more. words don’t matter as much now, not when the warmth of his arm around you feels like coming home.

------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

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

INUMAKI TOGE HCS

I miss him and I love him

his love language is touch and quality time

A cuddle bug

KISSES. Pecks, longer kisses, lazy ones. He loves them all

Loves holding hands, especially if cold -> holding hands and resting them in either yours of his coat pocket together 😗

Probably plays the sims and has a whole life with you two on there

Dates consists of going out and enjoying each other’s hobbies together. From arcades, museums, painting studios, anything really.

Loves to listen. Yap, yap and yap some more his eyes will still have little hearts in them

(canon) but he is literally described as such a gentle and pure soul. Nothing, I had to add it

He loves to gift you flowers. From handpicked ones to the ones from a flower shop

Big spoon, but sometimes he likes to switch

GOSSIPER

A bit insecure. He knows he is kind. He knows he has a lot to offer. But he can’t shake the feeling at times that anyone, friend or lover, could leave him behind because of his lack of speech. He tries his best in making up for the lack of words with big gestures, affection and more but sometimes he just feels it’s not enough.

he is a prankster

Literally a walking menace. He would be tearing everyone down to filth if not held back by the curse speech

His face it’s extremely expressive -> if someone says something “stupid” he truly can’t hide his distain

A music lover

ASMR lover, especially the soft spoken ones/gloves noise

Spicy food enthusiast

Knows how to cook, not stellar level, but can still wipe out some good stuff

A dinosaurs kid

Fan of legos

Will insist he is a marvel fan and shit on DC but secretly likes DC more

Loves hoodies

Wire headphones

Manga and comic reader + anime watcher

Movies over series

The type to catch a bug and chase the person who’s scared of bugs around with it

Because of his quietness people believe he is shy/introverted. Quite the opposite. He just likes his time alone, but loves being surrounded by his friends.

Reaction pictures in texts overuse

Cries when he is mad

Is overall, a sunshine of a person and I won’t accept any criticism about it.

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

Being in a situationship with Iwaizumi where he is fully convinced you two have been dating. You and Iwa had been in what you would call an exclusive talking stage for over a month now. Your friends always teased you for how cute and clueless you and your "boyfriend" were. You hated reminding them that technically you and Iwaizumi weren't together officially. There was no labels, you two just went on dates and talked (which is basically dating but you still wanted your man to ask you to be his) You were going to finally confront Iwaizumi about where you two stood when he picked you up from work. You were slightly nervous to hear his response. What if he didn't see you as relationship worthy? You didn't think Iwa was someone who dated around to waste time, but with this generation of guys you never know. You walk up to where he's standing outside of your workplace to see him chatting to someone on his phone. You walk up to him and mouth a little hi as you wait for him to finish his phone call. Your face flushes as you hear Iwa tell the other person on the line hurriedly "I'll take to you later Shittykawa, my girlfriend just got out of work." He hangs up the phone without waiting for his friend's response, but you still hear an indignant "Hey!" before the line cuts out. Iwa wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you softly, only pulling away to excuse himself for being on the phone. Your face flushes harder as you weakly ask him "Since when?" He confusedly states "Well he called me like ten minutes before I got he-" You cut him off to clarify "Since when have I been your girlfriend?" He looks utterly lost as he processes your words. Were you not his girlfriend? "Since our first date?" You shake your head slightly and remind him "You never asked me to be your girlfriend on our first date." He looks even more wrecked as he asks "I was supposed to ask?" I guess your friends were right, you two are clueless.