❦ TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

widowed nanami who quits management job and opens a bakery after your name when you die. usually people try to forget their pain, and it is a human emotion to avoid things that bring them discomfort. but nanami kento defies that psychology.

people come every now and then pondering at the art on the walls. you always loved lilies so he drew them himself. he is not very artistic and the lines are a bit crooked, but it is still alluring.

he loves you to the point he dedicated a day in his bakery after you. cheesecake day. because it was the first thing he baked for you at the start of your relationship and you loved it so much. on this day, he prepares all kinds of cheesecake you adored. anything grabs attention of youngsters and social media quickly so they promote his shop and soon there is a big line outside waiting for the famous cheesecake. you'd be so happy if you were there.

he never wanted to forget you to be honest. what is the point in letting go of the one thing that keeps him alive? you are his every thought. every feeling. without you he is just a man with flesh and bones. no heart.

he has your engagement and vacation pictures mounted on the wall. when the customers ask how are you doing? he just smiles and goes "she's resting. i'll be next to her soon. i'll be home."

Eternally yours

Summary: Eddie grapples with the realization that he exists solely in your imagination, while you cling to the fleeting moments you have.

Warning: I found this fic in my drafts from the end of last year. I completely forgot about it and reading it today made me incredibly sad. Why do I write things that hurt? Read at your own risk.

Word count: 744

Eddie stares at your hand resting beside his on the dock. He wonders how his hand can feel so real when it looks and moves just like yours. He can feel the wood beneath his fingertips. He can hear the water brush against the dock. He can see the moon casting a light on your face. It’s all so real, but he’s not. Suddenly, he is acutely aware of his body and the self-awareness causes him to feel uneasy.

Breaking free from his thoughts, you ask Eddie what he does when you’re not around. His voice trails off as he searches for an answer, realizing that his memories revolve solely around you. He musters the words, “I don't know…maybe I only exist when you’re around.”

The weight of your gaze intensifies the ache in his chest, as he grapples with the paradox of your presence while feeling his own absence. You exist and he doesn’t. How can he make sense of that when you're staring right at him, making him feel so alive?

“Do you think of me when we're not together?” He asks softly, feeling cracked open by his vulnerability. If he were to ask you what his lungs looked like, he'd swear you could simply peer down and tell him.

“All the time.”

That eases the ache and he smiles. The cool night breeze envelops both of you as Eddie tentatively lifts his hand, feeling the air flow through his fingers. However, a tremor runs through him, and you reach out to steady his hand with a gentle touch.

“Don’t get lost in it. Just stay with me.” You say.

Eddie tightens his grip on your hand, but his chest rises and falls quickly. He does not meet your eyes, because he is getting lost in it. The panic starts to set in. But then he feels your thumb brush gently over his hand. He hears his name on your lips, and it's as if you pulled him out of the hole he was falling into.

With his brown doe eyes fixed on yours, Eddie’s hand rises to touch your cheek. His fingers trace your face delicately, committing every curve and line to memory. He hesitates before asking, “Is this okay?”

You affirm with a single word, “Yes.”

Noticing a change in your expression and your attempt to control your breathing, Eddie’s thumb caresses your cheek as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

A small smile appears on your face before you admit, “I think about this all the time. You have no idea.”

Curious, Eddie asks, “Think about what?”

“You. And how your touch would feel…” Your voice trails off, cheeks flushing.

Eddie gently tilts your chin up. “How does it feel?”

Your eyes meet and he waits for your response, captivated by each of your breaths. But then, a tear falls from your eyes.

“Better than I could imagine, which is silly because this is all in my imagination,” you confess, your voice breaking as you look away.

Eddie wipes away your tears, his face filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Suddenly, you envelop Eddie in a tight hug, surprising him but easing his tension. He reciprocates, pulling you closer. Holding you tight.

“I miss you,” You whisper.

The words fall from your lips. Eddie is filled with confusion because he doesn’t know the pain you’ve endured because of his story. He doesn’t know how his fate ended, because this version of him lives on only within your mind—suspended in time. You met him in the middle, where his story was still happy and he was filled with promise of it being his year.

He lets his unanswered question dissolve, softly assuring you, “I’m right here.”

And he is, yet he isn’t. Time has passed, and the world has moved on from him, unbeknownst to Eddie. So, you securely hold him in your heart and mind, ensuring his existence continues.

“You know,” he starts, stroking your hair, “If I exist only because of you, then that’s a life worth living.”

The lake stills, the wind ceases, and just before Eddie can comprehend you're gone, he smiles. The world darkens, freezing him in an eternal moment.

Eddie Munson ceases to exist, residing only in the mind of a shifter, between the pages of the writer, the pen strokes of an artist and through the words of those who read him back to life in every possible scenario.

For every moment you experience in reality, he waits—until you meet again.

Masterlist

“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

Eddie Munson is the type of person that would make eye contact with you and nod his head along when you're speaking amongst a group of people and they've stopped listening to you.

Eddie Munson is the type to say, "Hey, you were saying?" when you're interrupted.

Eddie Munson is the type who would make you feel included and seen because he knows what it's like to be left out.

Eddie Munson is the type who would never let you walk behind or on the road when there's not enough space on the sidewalk for more than two people. He's linking hands with everyone and moving in a line! Or everyone's walking on the road, bitch!

AKAASHI KEIJI is known as the 'serious kid' around fukurodani.

he's not unpopular, per se. but having a friend like bokuto, all smiles and laughs and "hey, hey, hey!!", it's hard to really stand out.

people saw him as an addition to bokuto, most of the time.

but that was before he met you.

you, with your smiles and bubbling personality, bring out something in akaashi that not even his closest friends could do.

and suddenly, the students of fukurodani academy see a different side of akaashi. one that smiles, laughs, and hands you flowers in the morning before going to class, hand in hand with you.

some find it fascinating. (bokuto.)

some call it weird.

but for you and akaashi?

you wouldn't have it any other way.

hq m.list | gen m.list

say it

ぺ  word count ⋰ 774

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ mentions of drugs

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

You stormed through the halls of Hawkins High, headed straight for the Hellfire Club. They hadn’t started their meeting yet, but you knew Eddie would be there, setting up.

Pissed off couldn’t begin to describe how you felt. Your chest was filled with anger and sadness, and confusion swirled around in your heart and it made you want to punch something.

You knew Eddie wasn’t good at using words to express his feelings. You’d known that since you met him. In fact, it took him three months to ask you out when he’d wanted to do it since the first week you knew each other.

So when he got higher than you’d ever seen him last night and told you he loved you, you knew it was a big step for him, intoxicated or not.

But when he woke up this morning and you told him you loved him too, he didn’t say anything. You were hoping he’d tell you he loved you again now that he was sober, but he was silent. Silent from that moment and all throughout the drive to school, and he didn’t kiss you bye at your locker like he did most mornings.

You knew he must’ve just panicked, but it still made you angry. He hadn’t said a single word to you since that, and it made you worry that he didn’t actually mean it.

Keep reading

okay but reader with cuteness aggression just randomly biting eddie and he just lets them

no bc i have this and i tend to bite people a lot

— still doing some of the requests!

"oh!"

eddie's startled when you pounce on him, arms wrapped around his waist from behind. he laughs when you dig your cheek on his spine, linking his fingers with yours and letting his rings delve between the crevices of your thin limbs.

"hi," he smiles, turning around so you'd rest your cheek onto his shirt. you whiff his aroma — cigarettes, drug store cologne, gasoline. things people think would reek, but you've gotten used to it that you crave for the bizarre odor. "what's up, bug?"

"nothing," you place your chin on his chest. eddie looks down, chin to his neck, and wrinkles his nose at your small pout. "where've you been? i got out of the shower and you were gone."

eddie runs a vacant hand through your damp hair, untangling its wet knots until all he feels are its silk tresses. "i fed the cat outside again," he says, and you smile slightly, bottom lip grazing the fabric of his shirt.

you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger, lips pursing. "cute," you say.

"yeah?" he raises a brow. "you know what else is cute?"

he removes an arm around you, but keeps the other to pull you closer to him. eddie reaches behind to pull out a posy of sunflowers, a bit small held in his large hand. you gawp quietly, taking your hand off his waist to take the small bouquet.

"eddie," you mutter. "where'd you get this?"

"off the old man's house. the one that's always almost naked," eddie pushes your hair off your shoulder, smiles at the way you admire the posy. "i saw the sunflowers and i know how much you loved them so i picked you some."

he grins when you coo, fingers touching the soft petals. "thank you. i-" you clutch the posy to your chest, and you find yourself opening your mouth to bite on his chest.

eddie yelps, placing his hands on your shoulders to push you away. "sweets, what was that for?"

"you're just," you clutch your bouquet tightly, the other hand coming up into a tight fist before you squeeze his forearm. "you're so cute i wanna bite your ass off."

he chuckles. "wouldn't be opposed to that."

you bite on his arm, gentler, one with the use of your lips than your teeth. and eddie watches you as if you're the cat he feeds outside — stroking your hair as he gently sways you.

yeah he definitely doesn't think your biting thing isn't a little bit weird.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 2

<— previous

It was your scream piercing through the forest that had Sukuna dropping everything and speeding up his steps.

He was coming back from a hunt while you and Uraume were walking through the woods, foraging for ingredients.

It's been a few weeks since Uraume joined you both and since then, you had showered them with nothing but love and affection. Like the child you always wanted.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was teaching the kid how to properly control their technique. It wasn't something he would ever do for anyone but he has grown to... have a soft spot for Uraume.

But when he dashed through the woods and arrived at the scene, Sukuna would never admit the way his heart sank at what he saw.

Ice.

Ice everywhere.

With you slumped against a tree, shaking uncontrollably while Uraume was next to you in tears, screaming and crying as they apologised profusely. Half of your body was covered in ice.

"No! No! My lady, please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! It was an accident—!" The child wailed. Memories of the frozen corpses of their parents rushing through their head.

It was just like that time.

"What have you done?" Sukuna's angered voice had Uraume backing away in fear as he got closer.

Your husband was by you in an instant, taking you in his arms. His eyes raked over your body to assess the damage. He quickly used his RCT to heal you. His heart was in his throat and he didn't stop until color returned to your face and your breathing was even.

You were going to be okay.

You were going to be okay but Sukuna was not going to let this go so easily. You... His everything... was harmed. Had almost brushed against the brink of death.

But when he looked up at Uraume with a rage of a furious storm, he paused.

The child was bowing deeply against the forest ground, body uncontrollably shaking from sobs and their little fists digging into the dirt as they repeated the same thing over again.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean—I-I didn't mean to hurt her—!"

And those words stirred something inside Sukuna. A memory. A memory he had buried deep into his mind and vowed to never look back upon ever again.

Of a small, deformed child who had just discovered his dangerous technique.

"How could you do this?!"

"Please, I'm sorry!"

"Do you think sorry will fix this?! Will fix the damage you caused?!"

"I didn't mean to! Mother, I swear—"

"Stay away from me, you wretched thing!"

"Monster!"

"Four eyed demon!"

"He'll bring a curse upon our village!"

"Kill that deformed thing! Kill it—"

"Enough. Stand up and let's go."

"B-But my lady is—"

"She's fine."

The walk back to home was quiet. Uraume had expected their punishment the moment they stepped into the house. But after Sukuna had gently laid you on the futon, the punishment never came.

Instead, the King of Curses placed his large hand on top of the child's head and scowled disapprovingly.

"Brat, did you not get what I taught you? Focus on a single damn point and breathe. That way you'll be able to control your technique. Now—"

Sukuna lead Uraume outside again and stopped a few feet away from a deer and a fawn.

"Kill the fawn and only the fawn." The man ordered.

Uraume was in disbelief. They had fully expected a punishment for what they did but when they looked at Sukuna, there was no malice in his eyes. Instead, impatience clouded those bloodied rubies as he tapped his large foot on the ground, waiting for the moment the child would do something.

With an impossibly warmed heart Uraume turned to the fawn with a smile and followed the malevolent king's instruction.

--

You awoke a few hours later, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as memories of what happened slowly came back. Your heart sank and you tried to get up.

You had to find Uraume. The poor child!

But then you felt small cold arms secured tightly around you. Uraume was curled next you as they slept.

You calmed down and smiled tenderly, running your fingers across their snowy locks.

"They refuse to leave your side."

You looked over to see your husband leaning against the door frame. Your smile widened and you reached out to him.

Sukuna didn't hesitate, pushing himself off and walking over to you. He sat down next to you on the floor and took your delicate hand in his large one.

"I'm surprised they're even at my side."

Sukuna grunted. "They can control their technique now. So expect the brat to be glued to you more often."

You laughed softly. "Oh? And does that have something to do with you, my lovely husband?"

Of course it did because he simply refused to look at you and gave you a mere shrug. He was embarrassed. You could tell.

"My lady...?"

You turned your focus to a sleepy Uraume, gazing at you with an apologetic look.

"My lady, I'm sorry..."

You shushed them, stroking their hair affectionately. "Hush now, little one. It wasn't your fault. Sleep, okay? I'm here..."

Sukuna looked on at you and Uraume quietly. You, his beautiful wife, whispering soothing words to the child who, moments ago, was nothing but terrified of who they were.

And then he thought back to the little deformed boy with four eyes and arms running away with a tear streaked face from a mother who begged the villagers to kill him.

He knew that boy was at peace now.

<— previous

JJBA part 5 I love youuuu

Eddie is such a pitiful, simpy boyfriend—he hates your stuffed animals, they get more cuddle time than him.

God forbid you have one big one you like to sleep with, he'll roll away from you and pout, muttering out a poor, extra shrill imitation of your voice, "Oh, Eddie, I love you so much—just not as much as I love Mr. Gordo. Mr. Gordo takes precedence. If I were the captain of the Titanic, I'd tell all the officers to say, 'Women, children, and Mr. Gordo first,' just so I could leave you to drown and start a new life with my true lover."

Having turned over to watch his back shimmy as he mocks you, you're barely able to contain the laugh you so badly want to let out at your boyfriend's self-made misery. "Eds, that doesn't even make sense. The captain went down with the ship. Also, I'm a woman. I wouldn't have been a ship captain at the time."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He jerks his head back for a second, spitting out the insincere apology somewhere vaguely in your vicinity. "Forgive me—for in my moment of severe emotional turmoil, I failed to craft a compelling hypothetical tale of your infidelity!"

Softly chuckling at his incessant need to use verbose language when upset, you reach for him, gently rubbing his back.

But Eddie's feeling particularly slighted tonight, so he jumps away from your touch, contorting his abdomen outward to avoid your consoling hand.

"Don't touch me, cheater!"

Not bothering to try again, you pull your hand back, raising an unimpressed brow at his melodrama. "Eddie," you chide.

"Infidel!" he accuses over his shoulder, scooting to the very edge of the bed.

"Eddie!"

You can't believe him—he's acting like you truly offended him by simply holding your stuffy at night. Apparently, you're not allowed to hold anything but him—a version of this exact situation happened a week ago when you rolled over to hug your pillow.

Sighing, you try to reason with him. "I'm sorry, you just run so hot! Anytime I try to hold you, I end up sweating!"

At your excuse, Eddie promptly rolls over to face you—a tight, controlled motion that startles you.

"Oh, god forbid a man have a heartbeat! God forbid a man's mitochondria dare control cellular metabolism and produce a little heat!"

Rolling your eyes, you find an accusing finger hovering right in front of your face the second your attention is back on him.

"You know, if we were still in caves, that would make me the cock of the walk! Every ooga-boogette for miles would fight to be with me! I'd bring fire and body heat to the dwelling, everyone would want me!"

"Fine, go heat another dwelling! This ooga-boogette has to work tomorrow and if you don’t let me get my beauty sleep, I will find a slab of wood and bonk you over the head with it!"

Wholly offended that you're using his hyperbolic metaphor against him, Eddie pouts, nearly retreating into himself after being yelled at. Avoiding your eyes, he mumbles through his heavy bottom lip, "Don't wanna heat another dwelling. Wan' this dwelling."

"Okay," you settle, exasperated—like a mother humoring her child’s tantrum just to move things along. "Then go to sleep."

"Wan' a kiss."

You can barely make out what he said—his sulking mumble has dropped another octave. "What was that?" you prompt, locking eyes with him, waiting for a response.

"Wan' a kiss," he repeats—still pouting, still mumbling, but louder and more frustrated this time.

"Fine," you sigh, leaning forward to give him a quick peck.

"Wan' a better one..."

"Eddie."

"Wan' a better one!"

"Jesus Christ..." You roll your eyes, lifting your hand to his warm cheek and dragging him in for a prolonged, breath-stealing kiss. When you pull away, you wait for his hazy eyes to open, meeting him with an expectant look. "Better?"

A smug smile spreads across his wet lips as he hums approvingly, "Mhm."

The one-eighty in his disposition makes you shake your head disapprovingly—Eddie is such a piece of work.

Masterlist