SITTING ALONE IN EDDIE’S ROOM Is Not Unusual For You As You Wait For Your Boyfriend To Return From

overworked men ♪

ac: Urielbeaupre15 on twt

“You’re home!”

He’s there with his hair thrown up into a bun, pajamas consisting of a worn band tee and flannel bottoms, and that warm smile on his face that usually melts your insides on the spot. That smile couldn’t even calm the waves ready to flood through you. So much built up adrenaline begging to spill over.

“I’ve got everything set up for you.”

All the pillows and blankets. Perfect for cuddling.

He grabs a pair of pajamas, your pajamas, from where they sit on the top of the folded laundry he did this morning.

“Wanna get changed and then let me hold you for a bit?”

You bite your lip and nod, fighting back the tears that want to fall as you grab the pajamas from his hand. He makes it even harder when he reaches out to squeeze your arm for a few beats, knowing how much you need him right now.

Making your way back to the living room, you find Eddie adding last minute touches to the nest he’s made you, a few treats including a bag of snowflake shaped peppermint patties.

In that moment he makes it easier to not feel as silly as you do, making a big deal out of a doctor’s appointment. A dentist appointment. One that took you weeks to make, out of the fear that sinks in every time, even though you knew you needed to do it.

Now here you were, finished with that appointment, and all you wanted to do was cry.

Eddie plopped himself down on the floor, fluffed up the pillows a few more times before looking up at you and holding a hand out. A hand that was always there when you needed it.

You crumpled down onto the floor, landing somewhere halfway on the blankets but mostly on him as you dug your face into his neck, breathing in his scent as the tears began to fall.

I’ve got you.

You, Me, and Forever

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson has never been careful. He loves big, loud, and without hesitation.

The ring wasn’t anything fancy.

No diamond, no fancy box.

Just a simple silver band, a little worn but still beautiful.

Eddie turned it over in his fingers, his leg bouncing slightly like he was nervous.

Because he was. Very.

“I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” he said, his voice rough. “I didn’t plan a big thing, didn’t ask your dad or get some expensive ring.” He took a breath, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world.

Because to him, you were.

“But I swear, I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You sat next to him on the floor of his trailer, your backs against the couch, an open pizza box beside you.

The TV hummed in the background, but neither of you paid attention to it anymore.

“You’re serious?” you asked, staring at the ring.

Eddie let out a nervous laugh. “Dead serious.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his curls even more. “I know we’re young, and maybe it’s crazy, but I don’t care. I just know I want you. Forever.”

Your heart pounded in your chest so hard it almost hurt. So loud, you were sure he could hear it.

Forever.

Eddie had always been wild. You often found him throwing himself into things without fear, never holding back. And now, he was doing the same with you.

And you loved him so much for it.

Your throat felt tight, your hands shaking just a little.

Eddie swallowed hard, suddenly realising that it might have been too much for you. “Shit, you don’t have to say yes, I just-”

“Yes,” you whispered.

His eyes widened. “What?”

You reached for his hand, guiding him as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was a little big, but it didn’t matter.

“Ask me again,” you said.

Eddie’s forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm. “Marry me.”

You smiled and confidently spoke up once more. “Yes.”

And then he kissed you.

Not soft, not careful, after all, Eddie didn’t do anything halfway.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you close, kissing you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Eddie loved with all of his being.

And you’d never wanted anything more.

---

Eddie leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk.

“You’re gonna kill me, Sweetheart.”

You raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

He pushed off the counter, closing the space between you. “Yeah. Every single day.”

Your back pressed against the counter as his hands rested on your hips.

“You’re silly,” you whispered, fingers running into his curls.

“And you’re beautiful, and funny. And way too good for a guy like me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Eddie-”

“I’m serious.” He cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t know how I got this lucky, but I’m never letting go.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “You’re really bad at shutting up, you know that?”

He grinned. “Then make me.”

So you kissed him.

Eddie loved loud. He loved you.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

"atsumu," you whisper hiss, crossing your arms and glaring at the back of his head from the bathroom door, "what the hell are you doing?"

he freezes, almost comically so and turns around. a bottle of bleach is raised in his right, ungloved nonetheless, hand and he gives you a sheepish grin.

"hey pretty, what are ya doing up so late?"

you squint hard, pursing your lips.

"what are you doing up so late?"

he pouts and sets the bleach down with a whine.

"my roots were showin'! i had to fix it."

"it is 3am, miya. it is 3am and you are clanging around in my bathroom, leaving me in bed all cold and alone."

as if to prove your point, you shiver slightly, flimsy pajama shorts and his shirt doing little to warm you.

"i hate when you call me that."

you sigh and yawn, he's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes and as pissed as you are about being woken up, you cant help but soften a little bit.

"hand me the bleach you dummy, you missed a bunch of spots."

atsumu smiles widely and hands you the bottle, you snap on the disgarded pair of gloves on the counter and get to work.

"i love ya," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as he crouches down, letting you massage the bleach into his hair.

"love you too... even though you wake me up at ungodly hours of the morning for vanity reasons."

❦ TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF PT. 2

ft. sakusa, kageyama, atsumu

PART 1 | PART 3

—sakusa

when people ask you what your skin care routine is, you shrug. how are you supposed to know if you’re not the one that does it? your boyfriend does. you’re his little doll that sits pretty for him as he places the products in his hands to warm them up before patting them on your soft skin (patting, not rubbing, he’s very insistent on that). it’s a multiple step routine everyday and sometimes he’s very annoying about it, but he rewards you with a soft kiss on your lips every single time without fail.

—kageyama

takes you two on a monthly date to get your nails done. the both of you are sitting side by side as your cuticles are getting cut and his nails are getting shaped. he’s helping you pick out a new colour and he’s telling the nail techs all the new shit that’s going on with his team. even though he doesn’t get any polish (doesn’t want anything on his fingers) he still blows on them like he sees you do. then he’s paying and, depending on the weather, taking you to get a drink so you can show everyone at the cafe your new nails.

—atsumu

sometimes washing your hair is a hassle. you get into a rut where you can’t bring yourself to shower despite feeling like shit. that’s where your boyfriend comes in, with his wide smile and gentle teasing, he sits you down in the tub and lets the hot water run down your body. he’s mixing together random shampoos, acting like they’re different ingredients for a salad that is your hair. his fingers are massaging your scalp as he pretends to ‘toss’ the ‘ingredients’ together. it’s sweet and funny and even if it doesn’t bring you out of your slump, it makes you feel clean and loved.

love will always find you when you're ready. you might question the universe why isn't it around the corner like everyone else has but when you truly find it, you'll realize why it took so much time to finally knock at the door of your heart.

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 doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey eddie?”

“sweetheart?”

“whens the last time you got a haircut?”

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

“uhh. like a few years ago. why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“its okay angel, i know”

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

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

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

“i.. i guess you could.. try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

food for thought | o.miya

-> pairings: miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: none | genre: fluff | wc: 619 | mlist

-> synopsis: your boyfriend has odd eating habits, but it’s only because he loves you so much.

“You eat like you’ve been starved.”

“Hm?” Osamu remarks, shoveling onigiri into his mouth at a speed that makes you wonder how he hasn’t choked yet. The whir of the fridge rings faintly in your ear while you watch in amusement as he barely breathes between bites. It had become almost a ritual between you and your boyfriend to order in on cozy nights like these when neither you or him had the energy to cook.

It had also become routine for Osamu to scarf his food down in seconds while you pick at yours aimlessly.

“I said you eat like you‘ve just suffered through a famine,” you laugh, heart swelling with a soft affection. “Why?”

His chewing slows as he furrows his brow in contemplation. Swallowing, he slouches back in his seat and shrugs. “Force of habit, I guess. ‘Tsumu always stole my food if I wasn’t fast enough.”

“That makes sense,” you nod, though a nagging curiosity creeps into your head, accompanied by the urge to let it spill through your mouth. You wait for a beat before giving in to the feeling. Pressing your arms against the table, you lean forward.

“I have another question.”

Snorting, he fiddles with the little food that’s left on his plate. “Can I ask what compelled ya to analyze my eatin’ habits?”

Your eyes narrow, “‘Samu…”

“My bad,” he concedes, popping the last piece of onigiri into his mouth. “What’s the question?”

You pause, gesturing to the now-empty dish in front of him, “Have you noticed that you never rush through the food I cook for you?” Tilting your head, you add, “It’s only when we go out, or when you make stuff for yourself that you eat like this.”

Osamu doesn’t answer right away. He goes quiet for a moment, but he fills the silence by tapping his chopsticks against the table. Shifting languidly, he meets your expectant gaze and sighs, breaking the still. “I guess… it’s ‘cause I want the moment to last longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Y’know what I mean,” he replies, voice softening.

“I don’t.”

Groaning, he sets the utensils down to fork fingers through his hair. “Usually I’m the one that cooks, so when you do it—it’s special,” he explains, his lips parting slightly like he’s trying to find the right words to articulate an intricate thought. His eyes flicker down to his plate and back up to you. “I chew slower to show my appreciation. Sorta like how yer supposed to look at paintings in museums for a long time.”

Your chest pangs with surprise at his answer, and you raise your hand to inspect your now warm cheek. Gaping at him, slack-mouthed, his words echo through your head as silence stretches between the two of you once more. Despite being together for so long, Osamu’s words still could make you feel like you were floating.

When you finally speak, you can’t help but smile. “Are you comparing my cooking to a masterpiece?”

“No,” he quips, eyes twinkling with mirth, “That’d be offensive to artists.”

You gasp, “Rude!” But there’s no real feeling behind it. Giggling, you act on impulse and shove your half-finished plate of gyoza across the table towards him.

He hums, lips twisting upwards slightly. “What’re ya givin’ me this for?” His voice holds a fondness that makes you want to swoon.

“You’re cute. That’s why.”

Cocking his head at you, he smiles in appreciation. His nose is tinted pink from the steam that remains of your leftovers, and you find it unbelievably adorable. Chopsticks reaching to finish the food you had presented to him, he pauses to look up at you, catching your gaze once more.

“I think yer cuter.”

—a/n: picture me writing this and wailing in agony bcuz that’s exactly how it happened

requested to be tagged: @sahrii @mayyhaps (who also proofread this so shoutout may) @kameyyy

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.