"I love you."
Sukuna frowned, cracking an eye open to stare at you. You were laying next to him with a tender smile on your face.
He grunted and turned away from you. "Stop uttering nonsense and go to sleep, woman."
You sighed. "Love, it wouldn't hurt for you to say it back for once."
He snorted. "And what is the point of me saying it when I've already established it quite clearly that you belong to me and no one else? What will I gain from uttering those words? Nothing. Now go to sleep."
You frowned, staring at your husband's broad back with a glare before you smiled and scooted closer.
"'kuna?"
"What now?"
"You, too, belong to me and no one else, right?"
"..."
Silence.
A slight shift of his large frame.
"Yes."
You grinned and rested your forehead against his back.
Close enough.
-> Insists on late night chats especially when he's feeling talkative. Will literally roll over at 2am and whisper "if we can't see air can fish see water?" — and yes he expects an in depth answer
-> The type to just show up. He rarely texts before he visits just shows up with snacks and a grin, repeatedly ringing your doorbell (he literally has a key and does this purely to see you adorably get mad)
-> Very observant and immediately knows when something's off with you, even if you try hiding it. He'll never pressure you to talk just plops down beside you and sneaks attack you with tickles until you're both out of breath laughing.
-> absolutely LOVES cuddling. The position doesn't matter, little spoon or big spoon he just loves having you in his arms or being in yours. (would still prefer being the big spoon so he can gaze at you and nestle his nose in the crook of your neck)
-> Would talk to you in silly accents just to make you laugh when you're in a bad mood. Like he'll start doing a Gordon Ramsey impression and randomly yell "ITS RAW" until you giggle
-> Kisses you when you're talking — not to shut you up, but because he gets overwhelmed with how much he loves hearing your voice. You'll be mid sentence and suddenly he leans in to kiss your check and says "sorry you just look so cute right now."
-> Gets jealous and a bit insecure if he catches someone else flirting with you. He'll wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a forced smile, and stare down the other person until they leave — not that he doesn't trust you its just deep down he thinks you're too good for him.
-> Loves hand feeding you chocolate when watching a movie. If a bit smudges on your lip, he'll lean in with a mischievous grin to lick it off before giving you a kiss.
note : most of the hc's i'll do on here are just reposts from my tiktok (@/haikyuuism). But im also hoping to make different content here (maybe even working on fics). So if you have hc/sceanrio reqs lmk !
✧˚ ༘ Falling asleep next to him ft. Tsukishima Kei
⇢fluff, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy), written this with post-timeskip Tsukki in mind, your honor they're idiots in love, they want each other bad. anyway, self indulgent short drabble
Tsukishima thinks his heart is going to explode from how close you are to him. The room is silent and you're haf-asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, smelling of his shower products and he almost doesn't mind the sweet, lingering trace of alcohol on your breath.
When you invited him and Yamaguchi to a party that night to celebrate the end of exam season he initially wanted to refuse, but the thought of you going only with his friend, getting hit on by random guys at the club didn't sit right with him. So he tagged along and watched you dance and chat up whoever was willing to spare you the time of day. To say he was irritated would be an understatement but Tsukishima knew better than to comment on your behavior; he knew how easily you sulked and pouted until you got your way. And you always ended up getting your way with him– he liked you that much, though he never found the words to tell you. He had to basically drag you home that night, helping you take off your makeup while you sat on the edge of the bathtub, complaining about your headache. It was Yamaguchi's idea to let you stay the night at their flat considering the state you were in. Tsukishima wanted to point out that you weren't in fact that drunk, just tipsy, but he held his tongue. He couldn't waste an opportunity to keep you by his side just for a little longer. So after you showered and joined him in bed, he was finally faced with the reality of it all.
You're here, pressed up against him, your nose nudging against his jaw as you shift around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels warm, too warm, his palms sweaty as he adjusts, rolling on his side to give you more space. His hand comes up to your waist to prevent you from completely rolling over him and the little breathy hum you let out at the touch is a low blow. Tsukishima has always been analytical, trying to make sense of the world through logic and his sharp mind almost never failed him. But what can he do when his brain is basically mush, heart thumping so fast he's afraid you'll hear it if you lay your head on his chest? He tells himself to go to sleep, just close his eyes, take a deep breath and calm down but he can't— not when you're so close and fit so well against him.
And then you speak, a breathy, barely audible whisper of his name and his resolve crumbles. "Yea?" he says back, pressing his forehead against yours, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.
"d'you have some water? My throat feels dry."
He nods as you cough, slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. By the time he returns you're already propped on your arm and he can see you blinking slowly in the soft moonlight.
"Here you go. Drink up." he mumbles, fingers brushing against yours when you take the glass and bring it to your lips, emptying it in a few greedy gulps. "Jesus... slow down, it's all yours." You give him a glare and set the glass down as he joins you under the blanket again.
"I was thirsty ok? Plus my head hurts so bad. Can't you give me some paracetamol?"
"Not when you've still got alcohol in your system, dummy. I'll give you one in the morning." he huffs, slipping his hands into your hair to massage your scalp before you get to complain more.
Kei's thumbs rub against your temples, soothing the dull ache and you finally relax, your protests melting on your tongue as you close your eyes again. "There, better?" he whispers and you nod, cuddling up against his chest. "Yea, thanks Tsukki. You're a saviour."
"A saviour, really?" he teases and you chuckle.
"You know what I mean."
And Tsukishima knows– at least he hopes he does. Hopes that behind that little sleepy smile and content expression of yours lays a feeling akin to his. But he pushes down those thoughts, leaving them for tomorrow because he's finally starting to fall asleep and as his breath settles and his eyes flutter shut, Tsukishima promises himself that one day he'll get you to sleep by his side every night.
Gojo, Geto, Yuji, Megumi and Choso! TW: implied fem reader on megumi's, reader has pink bows!! "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Gojo Satoru wants nothing more than to yap with you over a box of kikufuku mochi. The way you let him talk your ears off and still agree with him makes him feel like the only man in the world, and he loves you for that. "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Geto Suguru wants nothing more than to cuddle with you and sleep after a long, exhausting day of exorcising curses. He wants nothing more than to kiss your perfect face right before you drift off to your slumber.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Yuji Itadori wants nothing more than to watch movies with you. Front row or not, at the theater or at home, your favorite movie or his, it doesn't matter. For him, any movie is a 10/10 if you're watching it with him.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Megumi Fushiguro wants nothing more than for you to run your fingers through his hair and play with it. He pretends he doesn't like it when you clip his hair with one of your pink bows, but you can see him blushing. "Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Choso Kamo wants nothing more than for you to sit on his lap and trace the marking on his nose bridge. No, it doesn't turn him on; it just makes him feel childishly and sweetly giddy, and he can't help but smile.
between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.
people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.
it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.
it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.
and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.
you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜
sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,
THINGS THEY DO THAT MAKE YOU SECOUND-GUESS YOUR 'FRIENDSHIP'
→ pairings: gojo satoru, geto suguru, kento nanami, ryomen sukuna, toji fushiguro.
→ a/n: finally had the time to write something!! school has been keeping me busy!! implied female reader for toji’s part.
GOJO - being touchy.
you’re used to gojo’s touch.
the way he drapes himself over your shoulders like a human scarf, pulling you into his side without a second thought. the way his hand finds the small of your back when he guides you through a crowd, his palm pressing firm against you, like he’s staking a silent claim. you’ve grown accustomed to the way he plays with your fingers absentmindedly—twisting your rings, tracing circles over your knuckles—while he rambles about something completely unrelated.
it’s always been like this.
that’s what you tell yourself, at least. that it doesn’t mean anything. that he’s like this with everyone.
but lately, it’s been getting harder to believe that.
because his touches have started to linger. his fingers don’t just graze your wrist anymore—they rest there, warm and grounding, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate strokes against your pulse. when he reaches for something above your head, he doesn’t just stretch over you; he presses his chest against your back, close enough that you feel the heat of him seep into your skin.
and then there’s the way he looks at you.
like right now.
you’re both sprawled out on his couch, half-watching some random movie he insisted was a classic (it’s not), when you feel it—his fingers, absentmindedly tracing shapes on your wrist.
you try not to react, try to focus on the screen, but your breath catches anyway. if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. he just keeps going, slow and lazy, the pads of his fingers skating along your skin like he’s mapping out something only he can see.
your pulse jumps when his fingers move up—tracing the inside of your forearm now, featherlight. it’s not accidental. you know it. he knows it.
but he doesn’t stop.
you sneak a glance at him, expecting that usual smug grin, but he’s still staring at the screen. too casual. too relaxed. he’s testing you.
like he’s waiting for you to do something about it.
you should move your arm. you should pull away. you should call him out.
but you don’t.
because the way he’s touching you now—it’s not friendly. it’s not casual. it’s not something he does with anyone else.
and the worst part?
he knows you know it.
GETO - never correcting people when they assume you’re his partner.
you don’t think anything of it at first.
you and geto move through the grocery store like you always do—bickering over which brand of cereal is better, tossing random snacks into the cart, laughing when he makes fun of your terrible attempts at balancing fruit on top of an already overflowing pile of groceries.
it’s easy. it’s comfortable. it’s just you and him.
and then you get to checkout.
the cashier, an older woman with kind eyes, watches as geto effortlessly lifts the heavy bags before you can even reach for them. he does it without thinking, just like how he had taken the cart from you earlier, just like how he always opens doors for you, just like how his hand had rested on the small of your back when guiding you through the aisles.
she smiles warmly.
“you two make such a lovely couple.”
you freeze.
your brain short-circuits for a split second, mouth already opening to correct her, but then—then you hear nothing from geto.
not a single word of clarification. not even a chuckle or a shake of his head.
nothing.
instead, he just hums, tilting his head slightly as if considering the statement. he doesn’t deny it. doesn’t laugh it off. just lets the words sit there, completely unbothered.
your head snaps toward him, eyes wide.
he meets your gaze, entirely too calm, a slow smirk forming at the corner of his lips. and then—because he’s absolutely insufferable—he leans in slightly, voice smooth as silk.
“you hear that?” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “we’re a lovely couple.”
you want to strangle him.
your reaction must be obvious because the cashier just beams, clearly convinced she was right. “oh, young love is so sweet. you take good care of them, dear.”
geto chuckles, and before you can protest, he effortlessly places a hand on the back of your head, ruffling your hair like you’re some flustered little thing.
“always,” he says smoothly.
you don’t remember the rest of the transaction. you’re too busy contemplating whether it’s legal to strangle someone with a grocery bag.
as you’re walking out, geto leans in again, voice dripping with amusement.
“you could’ve corrected them,” he muses, lips dangerously close to your ear. “but you didn’t.”
your stomach flips. you hate that he’s right.
NANAMI - always taking care of you.
you don’t plan on staying this late.
but time slips away between deadlines and last-minute emails, and before you know it, the office is nearly empty, the sky outside painted in deep shades of navy. you sigh, rubbing your temples, already dreading the long commute home.
by the time you step out onto the quiet street, the city lights glowing around you, your phone buzzes.
you don’t have to check to know who it is.
nanami: where are you?
your stomach flips.
you: just leaving work. why?
the message is barely delivered before another one comes in.
nanami: stay there. i’ll be there in five.
you frown at your screen. he was nearby?
true to his word, exactly five minutes later, a familiar figure approaches.
nanami, dressed in his usual crisp attire, looking entirely too put together for this hour. he doesn’t say anything at first, just glances at you, scanning you over like he’s checking for any signs of exhaustion.
“you should have left earlier,” he says, voice even, but you catch the slight furrow of his brow.
you roll your eyes. “yeah, well, i got caught up.”
“hm.” he exhales, the sound bordering on exasperation, before tilting his head toward the direction of your apartment. “let’s go.”
you blink. “what?”
“i’ll walk you home.”
you huff a laugh. “nanami, it’s fine. i can handle walking alone.”
he gives you a flat look, as if the idea is so ridiculous it doesn’t even warrant a response. Instead of arguing, he simply starts walking, fully expecting you to follow.
and—of course—you do.
it’s not the first time he’s done this. You know it won’t be the last.
he doesn’t hover, doesn’t lecture you about staying late. but his presence is solid beside you, steady and unwavering. his hands stay in his pockets, but you know—if anything were to happen, if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way—he’d be on them in a second.
as you near your building, you sneak a glance at him. “you didn’t have to do this, you know.”
nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like you’re the one giving him a headache. “i know.”
“…then why do you?”
he stops walking. turns to face you, studying you for a long moment.
then, with a sigh—like he’s so tired of explaining the obvious—he simply mutters:
“because you don’t take care of yourself.”
and that’s that. no room for debate. no further explanation.
your heart stumbles in your chest.
because he doesn’t say i worry about you. he doesn’t say i do it because I care.
but he doesn’t have to.
the truth lingers in the quiet, in the way he watches you, in the way he makes sure you’re safe—every single time.
and when you step inside your building, looking back one last time, you catch him still standing there. waiting.
making sure you’re okay.
like he always does.
SUKUNA - being unreasonably jealous.
it starts off as nothing.
a passing comment here, an unimpressed scoff there. sukuna has always been blunt, always had a sharp tongue and an even sharper glare. but lately, you start to notice a pattern—one that becomes impossible to ignore.
it happens again tonight.
you’re out with friends, the atmosphere light and easy, laughter filling the air. you’re mid-conversation with some guy—a friend of a friend, nothing special—when you feel it.
that presence.
it’s not loud or obvious, but it’s there. a weight lingering at your back, pressing into your skin before you even turn around.
and when you do—
sukuna is already watching.
seated across the table, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his gaze locked onto you with an expression that makes your stomach flip. bored. blank. irritated.
you try to ignore it. you keep talking, keep laughing at whatever the guy is saying, but it doesn’t matter. because every time you sneak a glance in sukuna’s direction, his eyes are still on you.
unwavering. unrelenting.
you swallow, trying to shake the weird tension creeping up your spine. but then the guy leans in slightly—just slightly—and that’s all it takes.
there’s a sharp scrape of a chair against the floor.
and then sukuna is there, standing beside you, a hand dropping heavily onto your shoulder.
“alright,” he drawls, voice slow, lazy, but carrying something unmistakably sharp. “this conversation looks thrilling.”
the guy stiffens. you do, too.
you glance up at sukuna, narrowing your eyes. “what are you doing?”
“listening.” his fingers tap idly against your shoulder, his weight sinking into the space beside you like he belongs there. “should i join? or is this, what—special?”
your brows furrow. “are you serious?”
he tilts his head slightly, feigning confusion, but you know that look. the glint in his eyes, the smirk barely tugging at his lips—he’s enjoying this.
the guy across from you clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “uh—i was just—”
“no, no,” sukuna interrupts smoothly, finally dragging his gaze away from you to look at him. “you were just what?”
the guy hesitates, then shakes his head. “never mind.”
and just like that, he stands, mumbling something about needing another drink before walking away.
you whip around to face sukuna fully, shoving his arm off your shoulder. “what the hell is wrong with you?”
he doesn’t move, doesn’t even pretend to be remorseful. if anything, he looks amused. “relax,” he hums. “didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
you scoff. “oh? and how exactly was he looking at me?”
sukuna shrugs, completely nonchalant. “like he could have you.” his head tilts, eyes flickering over your face. “and he can’t.”
your heart stumbles.
you open your mouth, then close it. because what do you even say to that? what does he even mean by that?
he smirks at your silence, reaching out to flick your forehead lightly before leaning in—just close enough that your breath catches.
“relax, brat,” he murmurs, voice deep, low, too much. “i’m just looking out for you.”
you should shove him away. roll your eyes. call him out for acting like an overprotective asshole.
but instead, you just sit there, pulse unsteady, second-guessing everything you thought you knew about this friendship.
because you know sukuna. and you know damn well—
this wasn’t just him looking out for you.
TOJI - flirting with you consistently.
it starts small. barely noticeable at first.
a lazy smirk here, a lingering touch there.
you don’t even think much of it in the beginning. it’s just toji being toji, right? he flirts with everyone—cashiers, waitresses, random people in passing. it’s just how he is.
except… it’s different with you.
because when he leans in close, voice dropping lower just for you to hear— “that color looks real good on ya, sweetheart. what, tryna drive me crazy?”—his eyes don’t leave your face. because when his fingers skim the small of your back, guiding you through a crowd, they stay there a second too long to be casual. because when he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth, he’s comfortable like he belongs there—like he’s claiming that space.
and then there are the compliments.
not just the casual you look nice or that suits you. no, never that simple.
“bet guys lose their damn minds over you.” he says it so offhandedly, like it’s just a fact—just something everyone knows.
you scoff, rolling your eyes. “yeah, sure.”
“i mean it,” he murmurs, and you hate the way your stomach flips when his gaze settles on you, something dark and unreadable in his eyes. “if i were them, i wouldn’t let you outta my sight.”
you tell yourself you’re imagining it—that he’s just messing with you. that’s what he does.
but then it keeps happening.
every single time, without fail.
you’re just trying to grab something from a high shelf? suddenly, he’s behind you, reaching over your head, his chest nearly brushing against your back. he doesn’t have to get that close. he knows it. you know it. but he does it anyway, voice low in your ear as he hands you whatever you needed.
“next time, just ask me, yeah? don’t gotta strain that pretty little neck of yours.”
you push him away, muttering something under your breath, and he just laughs, all smug amusement.
he’s always touching you, like he can’t help himself. a hand grazing the back of your neck when he adjusts your hoodie. his palm resting against your thigh when he leans in to say something. he doesn’t cling to you, doesn’t make a big show of it—but it’s there. subtle. constant. a quiet, unspoken thing.
and then—then, there are the moments that really get to you.
like when you’re out with friends, sitting side by side, and his fingers find the hem of your sleeve. absentmindedly playing with the fabric, rolling it between his fingertips. he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it, just listening to the conversation, relaxed and completely at ease. like touching you is second nature to him.
or when you’re waiting in line for something, standing close, and he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice low.
“keep looking at me like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips for half a second. “gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’ from me.”
your breath catches.
and the worst part? the absolute worst part?
he sees it. every damn time.
sees the way your pulse flutters at your throat. sees the way your fingers twitch, like you don’t know what to do with them. sees the way you avoid his gaze, pretending like your entire body isn’t reacting to him.
and every time, without fail—he just smirks.
like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. like he’s enjoying it. like he’s waiting—patient, unhurried—for you to break first.
and the thing is…
you think he knows you will.
eventually.
You find out early on in your relationship with Kuroo that sharing a bed with him can be stressful. When he strutted into the bathroom only wearing a pair of boxers that left little to the imagination, you were already overcome by nerves. You two hadn't had sex yet, and you were still flustered over the fact that this fine ass man was all yours. Of course Kuroo being the cocky guy he is ended up teasing you for staring, causing you to turn over to hide your blushed face. He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and you get even more flustered. After you get used to the feeling of him nuzzled behind you, you start to fall asleep. You are rudely interrupted by one of the loudest snores you ever heard. You honestly think that he might be doing it on purpose to get you to finally pay attention to him again, but when you glance over your shoulder you can clearly see that he is fast asleep. You turn your head back over and try to bury your head into the pillows to muffle the noise, but you can still hear him somehow. After a few minutes it starts to die down a little, and you gladly fall back asleep. When you wake up to Kuroo's head still nestled into your neck, and his arms wrapped around your waist you feel like it definitely makes up for the snoring.( but you wouldn't be opposed to getting him breathing strips )
Summary | You’re not the most pleasant person to wake up, so Eddie decides to stick it out in Gareth’s basement.
Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers (eventually), Cursing…
Pairing | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader
Word Count | 1.3k
An | I haven’t written in a while, I’ve had no motivation, so I’m so sorry this sucks😭 Hopefully I’ll be able to get something better out soon!!
“So… Who’s gonna wake her up?” Jeff asks.
All the boys stare at you from your spot on the couch. Face smooshed against the small pillow you used to cushion your head. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but whatever movie Gareth had chosen for that night had you passed out 30 minutes in.
“I mean, obviously Eddie, right?” Grant says, brow raised as he looks over at him, smirking as Eddie looked back at him with squinted eyes.
Yes. Eddie knew that was probably his responsibility right now, he had driven you over and he was supposed to drive you back to your trailer.
“Well, me and Jeff gotta go, so… have fun waking up, the princess…” He teases as he pats Eddie’s shoulder and he and Jeff make their way to Gareths front door.
Eddie actually preferred nights when the movie hangouts were held over at anyone else’s house. The other boys enjoyed them more at his trailer, no adults to interrupt and basically free rein. Which is why Eddie dreaded having them at his place, it’s not that he didn’t like his friends he just didn’t like having a hoard of teenage boys loose around his safe space.
You were a completely different story though. Movies night with you at his trailer were probably his favorite, but he’s not about to admit that to you.
And when you would conk out at his place he’d just let you sleep. It has come very apparent to everyone in the group that waking you up was not for the weak.
You were definitely snippy to say the least, you weren’t too fond of the way you acted after being woken up either. Probably something you should work on, but that’s beside the point.
Eddie and Gareth are left with you, and Gareth chuckles lightly at the small dribble of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. He won’t lie, he thinks you're cute, but he has to keep his staring to a minimum cause the few times Eddie had caught him staring at you the look he shot him was nothing short of scary.
“Well, Go ahead.” Gareth says with an all too cocky smirk.
“Can we just crash here? I mean, she looks kinda peaceful… we wouldn’t want to disturb that…”
“Pussy.” Gareth says with a chuckle but immediately shut up as he sees the look in Eddie’s eyes.
Jeez. There it is again. Gareth will never know how he can hold so much power with just one look. But it has him muttering a quiet ‘sorry’.
“Yeah, you can crash here, I’ll bring some pillows and blankets down…” And he’s already quick on his feet to head upstairs. Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs as he takes in seat on the floor next to where you legs are set. He leans his head back on the couch and looks up at you.
He immediately clocks the dampened spot on the pillow, right by where your mouth laid. He chuckles slightly at the sight.
Of course you’re a drooler. And of course this is the one time he doesn’t find it disgusting. He rolls his eyes again, and looks forward. Letting out a sigh feeling slightly annoyed with himself. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it though, thankfully, cause Gareth is coming back down stairs with pillows and blankets.
He stands to help, grabbing some of the pile off of him, dropping a pillow and blankets down to the floor for himself and then taking the rest.
“Are you actually scared to wake her?” Gareth asks, his tone is still slightly playful. Eddie does find himself impressed sometimes by how persistently annoying Gareth can be without giving up, but not right now.
Eddie stares at Gareth blankly for a second before letting out a sigh, “Only like a tiny bit.” He tries to defend but Gareth still chuckles lightly.
“Well, you know where everything is so… I’ll leave you to it. Night.” He says as he begins making his way back up the stairs to his room.
Turning his gaze back to you, Eddie moves himself closer to you, and as carefully as he can he lifts your legs from the floor onto the couch. You grumble quietly but never fully wake up. He grabs one of the blankets for you and lazily throws it on to you. He watches how it lands imperfectly.
And for what feels like the umpteenth time that night he rolls his eyes before what seems to be an attempt to tuck you in. He doesn’t understand how you have the powers to pull him to do such things but you do.
Once you’re more efficiently covered he plops himself down to the floor, adjust his pillow and throws the blanket over himself. He feels exhausted for some reason. Mostly likely from Gareth's shitty movie choice, and it has him ready to pass out.
And fortunately it doesn’t take him long.
But not too long after you find yourself waking up, eyes heavy as they let themselves slightly open. The rooms dark as you take it in and it clicks that this is not your room.
You sit up in a panic. Shit did Eddie really leave you here?!
“Fuck!” You whispered panicked as you swing your legs over the edge of the couch and your feet crush down onto something soft. You fall back down to the couch as whatever you just stepped on lets out a loud groan and your eyes widen.
“Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry, I uh- I thought you left…” You look down at him guiltily, “I’m sorry…”
Eddie lets out an exhausted sigh as he runs his hands down his face and sleepily says, “I wouldn’t just leave you here, Y/n.” His tone is slightly annoyed and you can’t blame him, waking up to a foot in the gut is not the best, and somehow he’s still being nicer than you would have been. 10x times nicer.
“No?” You ask quietly as you lay yourself back down onto your pillow, continuing to stare at him from over the edge.
Looks over to you and grumbles out “No…” And he lets his eyes close again, but they quickly snap open at the feeling of your hand on his stomach, right where you stepped.
You give it a small rub before saying, “Again, I’m really sorry…” You pull your hand away but he can still feel a sort of tingling in his stomach where you laid your hand on him, overpowering the painful foot to the gut feeling present before.
“It’s fine…” he whispers.
“Can we- can we go home? I really, really don’t want to sit and eat breakfast with Gareth's dad again…” He chuckles tired at that. Every time they’ve all spent the night there, they had to deal with whatever bullshit Gareth’s dad was talking about way too fucking early, so he’s all for leaving.
“Yeah, c’mon…” grunts slightly as he rises from his spot on the floor. He throws his pillow and blanket onto the couch by yours and you both quietly slip out of the house and make your way to his van.
The drive back to the trailer park was quiet, you both were too tired for conversation, but once you arrived home and he parked in front of your trailer you hopped out and walked to his side of the van. He quickly rolled the window down as you walked closer.
“You don’t need to be scared to wake me up, Eddie…” you smirk at him, and he’s narrowing his eyes.
“I’m not scared.” He groans out.
“Right…” You’re smiling as you pat his shoulder and begin walking up the stairs to your door, you turn and say, “I promise I’ll try and be less of a pain in the ass about it…” And then you walk inside. He smiles and puts the van into drive and he makes his way over to the trailer across from yours.
He passes out the second his head hits his pillow. But he’s definitely gonna hold you to that promise.
“Babe, have you - oh no.”
Your boyfriend Daichi stopped in his tracks when he saw you sobbing into a tissue on the couch, wrapped practically airtight in a thick fluffy blanket with only the cable from your heating pad sticking out.
On the TV a chubby seal pup was calling its mother that apparently fell prey to an orca just a few seconds earlier.
He sighed and came to stand in front of you, hands on his hips to block the screen.
“What did we say?”
You shrunk into your blanket, looking up at him with big tear-filled eyes.
“No nature documentaries when I’m on my period?”
“Then why are you doing this to yourself? This is gonna be the seahorse thing from last month all over again.”
At the mention of your previous trauma, a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks.
“It got carried too far in the current! It was all alone!”
“And what did you make me do?”
“Hold my hand in the supermarket so you wouldn’t lose me?”
“And why was that not a good idea?”
You took a deep breath and tried to recount the gentle scolding you received afterward, “Because to safely push a cart you need two hands.”
“And?”
“And I made you swerve into a display of tomato sauce.”
“So in conclusion?”, he raised an expectant brow.
You picked up the remote and turned on a different movie.
“Thank you.”, he said and leaned down to kiss the top of your head, “I ordered take-out for dinner. Now, move over.”
You scooted a bit to the left so he could sit down next to you and pull you into his arms for comfort, large warm hand slipping into the blanket cocoon gently rubbing your soft aching tummy.
a/n: this might be the silliest one yet
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.”
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.