Tossing And Turning

I think this is cute

It all started with a ring. A simple, band of silver wrapped around Tsukishima’s left ring finger. It wasn’t flashy but it looked particularly new.

His coworkers, Kento and Ran, at Sendai City Museum noticed it immediately, especially when he had to take it off to clean pieces or when he needed to wash his hands.

“Did you see it?” one whispered, leaning against the coffee machine.

“Of course I saw it. How could I not?” another one murmured back, eyes moving towards the tall figure of Tsukishima, who was typing something on his computer.

None of them dared to ask. They all knew Tsukishima well enough to understand prying would get them nowhere.

Why was he wearing a ring? He never wore jewelry, so that initial theory was quickly debunked. Family heirloom? Could be, but still, it looked pretty new and he wouldn’t wear it. Then of course, the most obvious: marriage.

But, to who? Not even one of his workmates knew that he was in a relationship!

Their best bet was to observe him in his natural habitat— the museum. Maybe they could catch a glimpse of his lock screen or some text message received from a significant other. But nothing.

Until a group of students came to visit the fossils exhibit. Tsukishima was always the one who prepared and guided the students around the exhibit and gift shop, but today, he was accompanied by his two coworkers, as new fossils had been added.

“And there is the gift shop. We offer replicas of the fossils and several other objects that you may find interesting.” Tsukishima tells the children and their respective teachers. “We have a more specific area with educational resources for class.”

“Thank you so much, Tsukishima-san.” One of the teachers bows, showing him her respect and gratitude. “We’ll have a look.”

Tsukishima’s gaze lingers on something else for a moment and one of his coworkers notices the direction is going to.

“It’s no problem. If you excuse me, I need to grab something.”

The teachers nod and Tsukishima leaves their side, walking towards the front desk of the gift shop. Kento swats Ran’s arm.

“Look!”

“Kei, you forgot your lunch again.”

Their eyes looked at the shopkeeper, the lovely, bubbly (Y/N).

She stood behind the counter, holding a neatly wrapped bento with a look of fondness. The taller man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t forget it… Just to lazy to carry it…”

“Aha, of course…” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, stepping out from behind the counter, leaving the bento behind for a few seconds. Without any doubt nor hesitation, she reached up to fix Tsukishima’s sweater and lanyard. It looked like she had just done that for years—her touch almost familiar.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, a smile playing on her lips as she tapped a finger against his chest. A finger wearing an almost similar ring to Tsukishima’s, adorned with a small diamond.

Kento and Ran barely held back their gasps.

This was it. This was her. The mystery wife, the lovely (Y/N) that hang out with them, went to karaoke and went out for drinks on Fridays. How long had they been together? How on Earth did they not notice?

Hiding behind a postcard display, they started murmuring about possible timelines, shivers running throughout their bodies at the haze of Tsukishima’s golden eyes flicking in their direction.

“I can hear you, you know?”

Kento and Ran scattered instantly, but not before hearing (Y/N)’s laughter and noticing the playful little smile on Tsukishima’s face.

Getting home from work late one night to a quiet house. The lights are on in the living room, leading into the kitchen where you find a note on the fridge, written in Eddie’s messy chicken scratch letting you know a plate from dinner was in there for you, just needing to be heated up.

Deciding dinner can wait a few more minutes, you make your way upstairs, determined to get out of these clothes after too many hours of them sticking to you. Determined to see that sweet face again.

More quiet.

“Baby?”

You call softly before nudging the bedroom door open to a sight melting you on the spot immediately.

The bedside table lamp was the only source of light in the room, casting it in a soft golden hue. The radio is playing, volume only up high enough to just fill the silence in the bedroom. A book sits on Eddie’s chest, still opened to whichever page he left off on before dozing off.

He’s sound asleep in his baggy Iron Maiden tee and flannel pajama bottoms, partially sitting up against the headboard, leaning toward your side on the pillows. His hair is sits perfectly on the top of his head in a messy bun, pieces falling down into his face. His mouth is slightly opened as gentle snores leave him, and if you were to look hard enough you would see he’s drooling, the evidence of how hard he’s sleeping trailing down the line of pink scars.

And to make the moment even sweeter? His shadow, the tiny gray kitten, is curled up in a ball against his neck.

Your heart aches at the scene, seeing Eddie so at peace, something that can be so rare with the nightmares that still plague you both.

You blow a kiss toward him, deciding it best to leave him be for now before shutting the door quietly and making your way back downstairs to your dinner.

Eddie imagine:

Imagine Eddie writing into every D&D campaign, a character that falls in love with your character. Or npc couples that are exactly like the two of you. You ask him one day why he does this. He just answered so casually like it was common knowledge, “because I’ll love you in every universe, time, and everything in between.”

Eddie’s hair is back in a braid to keep his dark curls from tangling together too much from the salty air. A bucket hat sits on his head, keeping the last bit of the day’s sun out of his eyes as you walk the shoreline in search of a few shells to take home from your trip. His swim trunks sit a bit low on his hips, showing off the slight tan line he gained from your week in the sun. He slips another shell into the plastic bucket you hold, it swings back forth between you both as you venture across the wet sand, the shells clinking against each other.

He snorts as you dodge another crab running across the sand, trying to make it back to its home. You kick water his way, the salty water kissing your skin and his once again after a full day of chasing each other through the waves. He throws his arm around you, planting a wet kiss to the side of your head, continuing on down the beach.

I was thinking about how Eddie seems like the type to randomly put one of his rings on you and I came up with this itty bitty little blurb.

wc: 313

Eddie gently holds your hand as he slips one of his rings onto your fingers. The ring is a little too big, but you enjoy the weight of it on your hand. It’s still warm from being on his hand all day. You smile at the gesture before you hold your hand out to admire the way it looks on you. The way you wiggle your fingers makes the light dance across the silver. You look at Eddie. “What do you think? Does it look good?”

He has a lazy smirk on his face as he takes in the scene before him. You’re dressed in pajamas on a cozy Saturday evening, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp, wearing one of his rings. Eddie never thought he would be one of those boyfriends that like the idea of his partner wearing something of his, but here he was. Just something about you embracing a little piece of him made him feel fuzzy inside. “Of course it looks good. Everything looks good on you.” When you scoff at his corny words, he chuckles. “I’m serious. You could wear a trash bag to the Grammys, and still be the most beautiful one there.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks from his compliment. You return your attention to the ring on your hand, spinning it around your finger as you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

Seeing the shy smile on your face, Eddie knows you don’t actually dislike what he’s saying. He leans closer to speak softly in your ear as he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. “And luckily, I’m all yours, baby.” He punctuates his words with a kiss to your cheek. Hearing you giggle in his arms, he smiles wider.

“So lucky,” you agree.

this is for the non curse bf!sukuna

when you first start going out he wouldn’t know what flowers to get you. he could ask you but- who tf asks their gf ‘hey what flowers do you like?’ he thinks that’s lame. so guy brings 5-6 diff flowers just for you.

can you imagine, him all tattooed and brooding buying you flowers in a pretty flower shop😭😭i’m crying :((((((

OKAY BUT IF HE DOES IT TO LIKE, ASK YOU TO BE HIS GF???

Like originally he was just going to take you out on a few dates, enjoy the company and yuuji and his Ma off his back, but that plan crumbled when he started to be the one to text you first. When he started to initiate dates. When he started to feel butterflies in his chest when you laughed.

Yuuji so graciously told him he had feelings and should cuff you before you get tired of him, and the idea swirls for a bit in Sukuna’s head before one night at four am, he storms into yuuji’s room and in a pure panic asks “how do I ask her out?”

Yuuji grumbles and throws a pillow at his brother, “flowers and candy, go back to bed.”

But Ryomen does anything but. Because there’s so many flowers and so many candies, how will he know which is your favorite? And as much as he’d love to ask you, it would ruin the surprise of being so excited at being his girlfriend that you’d have to say yes- a little manipulative, perhaps, but he’s not perfect despite what he says.

So he kinda goes… crazy.

He buys you all sorts of candy, everything from sour to chocolate, to even some cotton candy grapes and gummy bear watermelon and more candy flavored candy, all to put in a small bag that dangles from his thick wrist.

Next is the flower shop, and that’s even more stressful because how is he supposed to pick between roses and peonies and assorted and god knows what other breeds of flowers there are- one time, as a kid, he saw yuuji give a little boy a fistful of yellow dandelions, can’t he just do that?

According to the swipe of his credit card after picking out seven bouquets…. No. Apparently not.

He lugs everything out to his car with grunts of efforts, texting you telling you to be home because the smell of flowers is making him nauseous and the candy is probably melting in the warmth of the sun.

SENT please tell me you’re home?

Schnookums (god he needs to change that, why’d you ever put yourself as something so feral in his phone?) why, you coming over??

SENT no I’m making conversation

Tf

Of course that question means I’m coming over

Schnookums yayyyy okay 🥺💙

He scoffs before making a floor to your house, nerves making him speed a little too fast and almost run a few too many red lights, and he’s grateful that the cops he passed have mercy on him and let him get to your house without a ticket or handcuffs.

He gathers his bundle back in his arms and blindly makes his way up your driveway, using the sheer grace of the gods watching over him to not trip and crush everything under him. He sneezes god knows how many times, and once he’s finally at your door, he doesn’t know how long it takes him to knock successfully, but after 5 tries, he finally nails it.

And after a few short seconds, you open the door with a gasp of excitement. “What did you do!”

“I wasn’t- fuck!” The flowers start to slip as he tries to peer over them to look at you. You’re quick to make a move to help him catch them. “Fuck. God damn it. Ugh.” He clears his throat, “I wasn’t sure what flowers to get, so… I bought them all.”

“Whats in the bag?”

“An absolutely feral amount of sweets.”

You’re beaming at him, so excited between the gesture and seeing him that you immediately toss your arms around him, the crinkling of the bouquets being what snaps you back to life.

“Ah shit.”

“Sorry! Sorry!! I just… this is so sweet,” you say, smiling.

“Well, I uhh…. I wanted… you and I’ve been kinda… going out for a while….”

“Yeah?” You ask, and with the way your eyes widen and jaw slacks slightly, you know what he’s going to ask.

And he knows you’re going to make him do it.

“And I really… really have enjoyed it.” He takes a deep breath, “not sure why, but-“

“Shut up,” you snicker.

“But I kinda… want to do it. More. And… not let you do it with other people.”

“Okay,” you giggle.

“And I’m told the only way to do that is to make you my girlfr-“

“YES!” You scream, wrapping your arms around him again, and when he makes a noise of protest, you grab the flowers to put them on the ground, hugging him again tightly.

Tightly enough his organs hurt and his breath can’t get into his body, but this feels so right, so good and so comforting that he’d let you do it forever. He kisses your head and cradles it, letting the bag rest against your back.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for me,” you murmur against him.

He chuckles, “don’t thank me too much yet. We still need to find vases for all of these because I’ll be damned if I let my kind gesture die within twelve hours.”

“I don’t even know if I own a vase.”

He stiffens, and you snicker in his grip.

“Well then I hope your don’t like your kitchen sink too much.”

i wish i had met you earlier (eddie munson x reader)

cw: depressing pillow talk and comfort idk, reader was sad and lonely an: a nod to the only boy ive ever loved who coincidentally became the only man ive ever loved. we grew up together and i still wish i had met him earlier. wc: 1k

“I wish I had met you earlier,” you whisper.

“Earlier?” he smiles, nose scrunching at the silliness, not knowing the depth of your sentiment. 

“Yeah,” you smile back. It’s hard not to do— to smile, when his eyes are so soft, and his lips are that plump, just kissed colour, and your body still hums from the evening behind you. His lashes flutter the slightest bit, blinking away your flattery with a bashful roll of his eyes. 

“You’d be sick of me already if we met earlier,” he lightly huffs, cheek squishing further into the softness of your shared pillow, crooking his smile. 

If the lights were on, you’re sure you’d see a flush suffuse across his face. It would highlight the curvature of his cheeks that accompany his boyish simper, and it would emphasize the winsome rounded tip of his nose. When he blushes like that, your heart always adds an extra beat into its rhythm, one that lives for him. You can picture it so clearly, your heart flutters all the same— that’s not the point of this though. 

“I wouldn't be sick of you,” you promise.

“No?”

“I'll never get sick of you.” 

Tactile as always, he draws his affection over your features, trusting his touch to communicate what he feels. His fingertips dance over your cheek bone, daring to grace close enough to your eye to feel the very tips of each silken lash, flittering with every reflexive blink. He feels the fan, every feathery gust of air, and it affects him in magnitudinous ways— feeling any part of you is like that, a full-hearted reminder that you are here. You are here and you are his. 

His palm settles to your cheek, fingers curving just below your ear, cradling the edge of your face. His own version of a promise, he shares his warmth and oath-taken heart through his touch.

“When would you have wanted to meet?” he asks curiously, blinking his own thick lashes at you as his gaze meets yours. 

“Just before high school.”

He smiles widely, “you answered that quickly,” he says, thumb tracing once over the hill of your cheek and back down.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you smile back. You lean into his touch and he draws his thumb across again. You close your eyes for a moment and he does it another time. 

“Why?” 

The softness inside you hardens momentarily at the question. Swallowing thickly, you also know the answer, but it doesn’t come out as quickly. It gets stuck to the roof of your mouth, stuck to the tip of your tongue. His eyes encourage your honesty, and on the sole notion of knowing him and knowing his heart, you trust him with this part of you.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so lonely.”

His thumb glides across your cheek and you watch as his eyes give way to his realization that it wasn’t a light hearted question for you. It wasn’t just pillow talk like it was supposed to be.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so sad,” you continue, trying to smile.

“You were sad?” His brows turn up, worry lines settling in. It’s a sorrowful look he gives you, not pity, but a softness, a grief, a regret. 

For a split moment, you think that maybe you should lie— make it all go away. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t, not with him. Not when his hand is so graciously connected to you, and the warmth of his bare chest radiates into yours, and your shared pillow smells like your shared shampoo, and the sheets smell like the laundry soap you picked out together, with hints of your lotion and his body wash scattered throughout like every kiss you’ve ever shared here. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t— especially not when you love him and he loves you. 

“I was so sad, Eddie.” 

You muster a smile, but it betrays you, trembling just under your lower lip. The corners of your mouth remain pointed high, but it’s not a smile, not with the way your lips purse tightly, holding back what your eyes cannot. Your lash line fills, but less than a few side fallen tears survive the heavy blinks that draw them back inwards.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, thumb tracing under your eye this time. He pulls you forward with the lightest touch, a gentle encouragement, and a purposeful reminder that he’s here. He's here and he’s yours. 

One day you’d like to explain it all, but it’s a hard feeling to understand. You’re not sure if it’s wholly a feeling to begin with— it’s more like a ghost. A haunting of all the feelings that used to exist. It washes over you in fast moving gray clouds, settling into your chest like heavy smoke in your lungs, lingering only long enough to remind you of how it was. Just enough to make you sputter, but not enough to hold the bleak weight of it all once again.

Breath coming out heaving and choked, Eddie’s palm glides to the back of your neck. His thumb presses soothingly into the tensed and taut muscles, and as soft as air he breathes a whispered apology against your lips— a simple ‘sorry,’ but it translates to so much more when he holds you like he does. 

Sorry for bringing it up. 

Sorry for the ghosts in your lungs. 

Sorry for the years of you that died all alone with nobody to mourn them. 

Sorry that no matter how many flowers you bring to their grave, they still come back, just like this, to haunt you.

Sorry— breathed against your lips and into your lungs, filling you with the gift of a life with him in it. 

“It’s not your fault,” you answer.

“I know,” he replies.

“I’m still glad I met you when I did,” you say. 

He looks into your eyes, steady gaze sincere with a tender adornment. Entirely loving, but his usually gladness is hindered by the gravity of the moment. He moves in closer to you again, lips just barely brushing yours as he speaks. 

“I wish I had met you earlier,” he whispers.

———

ty! <3

Hearing the beeping smoke alarm just regulating. The quiet of the trailer. Even the occasional chirp of the bird Wayne got as a gift from you. He loves birds and bird watching, nowadays. When you wake up, Eddie is asleep, his scarred, bare back at your disposal, sheets pulled around his trim waistline, barely covering his unclothed ass. He’s not the lightest sleeper, so you simply slide out of bed, working your panties back on from last night, a discarded baggy shirt with holes you’d left here, and grab your bath robe off his corner chair. One last look at the messy haired boy in your shared bed, you can’t believe that you’re in this moment with him - so lucky, so happy.

The realization that you’re still a little unsteady on your feet from previous activities, it has you gripping the panel walls. The soft hum of the set has you smiling as you approach the kitchen, Wayne bent over the couch trying to pack a few things in his camp duffel. There’s freshly brewed coffee that you inhale, and Shiner (the bird) makes note of your presence. Your tap a finger at his cage.

“Good mornin’, kiddo. Did I wake you guys?” Wayne manages a smile, and you shake your head.

“Good morning. And no, you didn’t.” You motion towards his bag. “You leaving for a bit?”

It’s so cute how bashful he is. He motions towards the weather report through a haze of colors on the little set. You nod. “Gonna be a stormy day, so thought I’d take my lady fishin’ for a bit. Stay at hers, get some rest before the drive out. She’s makin’ us a picnic.”

You really wanna bottle this man up and keep him safe, because he’s practically glowing right now.

“Did you get breakfast? I can have an omelet and some bacon for in a few minutes.” You place your mug down after several passing moments.

He zips up his bag and shakes his head at you fondly. “Actually, I did. Picked up some McDonald’s after my shift. Left your’s and Ed’s shares in the oven to keep warm. Should be all right still.”

You marvel, thanking him, moving to swiftly kiss his cheek as he zips his bag closed, patting his pockets for a double check. You’re retrieving the food by the time he’s stepping out the door.

“Love ya, sweetheart. Tell my boy I said love him too. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“Love you, Wayne. Be safe, okay? Tell Ms. Henderson we say hello. Let Dustin know Eds will call him a little later for tonight’s match, if you don’t mind?”

~*~

He has woken up, scratching his belly and rubbing his massive, curly bed head, clad in his sweats and a shirt by the time you have the food plated. You pretend you don’t hear him, distracted by task. His soft, spicy scent and the smell of you clings to his skin as he approaches your backside, sliding his arms around you, chin pressing into your shoulder. “You left me in a mountain of sheets. I was lost without you, empress.”

“I think you faired well on your corridor travels, my King.” You turn in his arms to see that cheeky grin.

Both of you automatically lean in to meet mouths, that fresh desperation and desire never failing to excel its presence. “Hey, baby.” You greet in between kisses, his hands squeezing your waist through the fluffy fabric.

On the noisy breakaway, he leaves a few more clicks to your lips, accepting the plate you offer him and the coffee, making a move towards the couch as you join. “Did Wayne have an over?” He tucks a sweat clad length beneath him, one of your borrowed shirts hanging from his slender form.

“Overnight date with Dustin’s momma.”

Eddie just grins, but then he does that face (the one where he knows he’s forgotten something, and attempts to tackle the misplaced thought). You catch on quickly. “Told him to tell Dustin to call later for your meeting details. It’s supposed to storm all day.”

He takes a bit of his sausage breakfast roll, wiggling his brows. “Good. Mother Nature providing the master with her sound effects.”

“And…” he starts with another add on. “Gives us a lot of time to ourselves, sweetheart.”

You simply bury yourself into his neck, listening to his raspy chuckle, and finish your breakfast after Eddie has changed the weather to an old movie channel. You shower first whilst Eddie tidies up the place and puts on clean bedclothes, and he showers after, giving you time to put away the rest of the laundry. He doesn’t waste a second after coming out, not even a towel on. He finds you, already waiting, that sensed, shared energy — encouraged by a summer storm. He lays you down in his bed and you don’t leave until evening… reluctantly.

❦ TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF <3

ft. kita, ushijima, kuroo, tsukishima

PART 2 | PART 3

—kita

he always wakes up early. he’s got stuff to do ofc, but his number one priority is cuddling up to you in bed, breathing in your scent and then falling back asleep in your arms. he’s started to set his alarm 15 minutes earlier than normal just so he can be awake to appreciate your warm body next to his.

—ushijima

you have one designated spot, and one designated spot only. his lap. there are extra seats everywhere? doesn’t matter. you are his own personal weighted blanket, and the best excuse not to talk to anyone cause he’s literally hiding behind you. if he could, he would make the world just you and him, and volleyball.

—kuroo

he’s constantly pinching you and poking you and doing anything to get a reaction out of you because YOURE JUST SO FrEAKING CUTE. he can’t help it, his feelings are borderline aggressive because you just grip his heart in a choke hold and he needs to always be close to you and feel your soft skin and UGHHHH. might even bite your cheek like mochi.

—tsukishima

gives you the first bite of everything. he’s making himself a snack and you’re in the bedroom? man walks across the sahara just to give you the first bite of his food. it’s inconvenient to him, and he doesn’t even ask if you want it, he just holds it out on a spoon or chopsticks and waits for you to take the bite. ofc he’s gonna grumble but he just keeps doing it.