Thinking Of A Shy!autistic!reader Who Sees Asahi Azumane For The First Time…

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!!,

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

kento is a straightforward lover. he would not beat around the bush. what he wants is what he would say. he doesn't play the push and pull game or even play hard to get. he is honest and transparent towards his wants, except for one.

"kento, i know something is on your mind. please tell me," you came closer to kento, laying on his chest. "please?"

"i think..." kento paused to think. his lips were smooshed against each other forming a line. "i'd like you to...be responsible for my tie."

"huh? what does that mean? i mean, i can do that as my laundry. i don't really mi-"

"no!" he panicked. "that's not what i meant...."

"then what?" you drew hearts over his chest, listening to his rapidly increasing heartbeat.

"i'd just like you to be responsible...for tying my tie and taking it off," kento's eyes couldn't meet yours.

"that's it?" you sat up. "all this time i was worried something really bad was wrong. but turns out you just want me to take care of your tie?" you were confused. kento had been hiding this for 3 days, since the first time you ever took off his tie afterwork.

"...yea. would you be okay with that?"

"of course ken," you pecked his cheek. "i'm okay with anything if it's with you."

ushijima loves when you trace your fingers across his back. after a long and exhausting day of strenuous training, he’ll be lying down on his stomach, face buried into a pillow. as you sit on the edge of the bed next to him and begin running your fingers across his bare back, he’ll turn his head slightly to open one eye and look at you with an appreciative but tired smile. your fingers run mindlessly across every groove and muscle, outlining the years of hard work he’s built up in his figure. your hands run in between his shoulder blades and on his sides in a calming featherlight touch. when you massage the right spot, he lets out a barely audible sigh of contentment, feeling completely at ease under the gentle path of your fingers. as you continue your movement across every crevice of his body, you see him gradually shift into a visible state of relaxation. his shoulders slowly drop from their tense state, and his muscles go from tight and sore to relaxed and softened. the feeling of intimacy this small act of yours brings to him wraps him up in a blanket of warmth that, for just a short while, makes him forget about anything but the love radiating in the small cocoon you two call home.

it’s late, and you’re both curled up in bed, the room completely dark except for the soft glow of the moon peeking through the blinds. you’re lying with your back to simon, his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin.

"you ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t a soldier?" you ask, your voice soft in the quiet.

simon doesn’t answer right away, his hand stopping for a moment before continuing its slow, comforting motion. "no," he says finally, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness. "never thought that far ahead."

you smile to yourself, knowing that’s so typically him—always focused on the present, on the mission, never on what comes after. "okay, but what if you had to choose something else? anything at all."

he’s quiet again, like he’s actually considering it, and then he mutters, "maybe a mechanic. or a farmer."

"a farmer?" you ask, trying to hold back a laugh at the thought of simon, the terrifying ghost, tending to crops and chickens.

"yeah," he says, completely serious. "quiet life. away from everything. i’d like that."

you turn to face him now, grinning in the dark. "you? a farmer? with overalls and everything?"

"don’t push it," he grumbles, but you can hear the faint amusement in his tone.

you laugh softly, reaching up to brush your hand across his stubbled jaw. "i think you’d look cute. you’d be grumpy, but in a charming, farmer simon way."

he huffs, but you can feel his body relaxing next to you, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "you’d get bored with me in a week."

"never," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i’d help you with the chickens. we’d live on a cute little farm with a big garden, and we’d sit on the porch every evening and watch the sunset."

"that sounds nice," he admits, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body as he pulls you tighter against him. "see? i think you’ve got the right idea. farmer simon. i’d take that over ghost any day."

he chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "you say that now."

you smile, closing your eyes as his hand moves gently through your hair. "yeah, well, i think i’d like you no matter what."

the silence settles again, but this time, it’s filled with a warmth that makes you feel like you could drift off to sleep any second, wrapped in simon’s arms and the thought of a peaceful life somewhere far away.

and just before you drift off, you hear him murmur, "i’d like that too."

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something short and sweet before i finish this longer fic i've been working on for a few days :) hope you like ittt

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)

unspoken valentine

fwb!eddie munson x reader

summary: you want more, but eddie’s destructive tendencies get in the way. (2.2k)

warnings: sexual content but no smut, small mention of oral (m. receiving), angst, hurt/comfort, eddie self-sabotaging stuff, mdni.

<3

“There you go, babe. All cleaned up.”

Eddie shuffles back into your bed after tossing the used tissue in your trash can, smiling into your hair when you cuddle closer to him. His heart warms when you lay your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie knows he’s so incredibly lucky to get to hold you like this in your post sex haze because it wasn’t always like this. Before, when the already muddled boundaries of friends with benefits weren’t crossed, the two of you would quickly dress right after fucking and go on with your days as if nothing ever happened. It’s different now.

Now that he’s surrounded and completely captivated by you, mind foggy with the sultry scent of sex and your fruity perfume that lingers on his sheets and skin, Eddie wonders how he was able to do it before. How was he able to tear himself away from your warmth the second the two of you were done and move on as if you didn’t just have the best sex of your lives?

Leaving you was once easy, but now it is an impossible feat. He’s never felt such a fervent need for affection from anyone until you started coming by more often, letting him kiss your lips after you finished, and touching him as if you weren’t just casually fucking.

At first, he thought the fantastic sex was just getting to his head, making him see you in a way that wasn’t akin to his very platonic feelings towards you. But then he started catching himself admiring the cadence of your laughter and the beauty in your eyes. And so the pining ensued.

He started doing little things for you like offering to fix your car and bringing you lunch to your work (usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because it’s all he knows how to make and a cookie from your favorite bakery.)

Really, Eddie was disgusting whipped. He found that it wasn’t difficult, rather incredibly easy, to like you. All it took was a simple glance of yours for his heart to skip a beat, cupid’s arrow striking him right through the chest every single time as if he wasn’t already halfway in love with you.

And maybe, a small part of him thought, maybe you like him in the way he likes you. He’s nearly certain that there’s something unspoken between the two of you.

He’s noticed the way you light up whenever he’s near, his mere presence pulling you out of your sour moods, and the way you get all shy and flustered when he compliments your smile or kindness or whatever else it is that has his head spinning that day.

He’s realized that you touch him like you love him. Eddie knows that touch is your way of showing affection, constantly noting the way you hug Robin tight when you haven’t seen her in a while or rub a hand between Steve’s shoulders when he’s stressed. But, when you’re with him, your cuddles and embraces and nibbles and pinches are bursting in a certain romance that you’ve never shown to anyone else. You always take a moment to place a trail of small love-filled kisses down his chest before dipping down to take him between your lips. And when you’re cuddled close against him afterwards, you trace the ridges of his scars with nimble fingers, as if to remind him of how beautiful he is, scars and all.

He’s okay with this odd dynamic for now. But the consuming and enthralling thought of you feeling the same way he does is one he constantly brushes away, his fear of rejection and self-sabotaging tendencies never allowing him to linger on the subject.

He’s having a difficult time getting himself out of that reoccurring turmoil right now as you smooth circles into the skin of his neck and scoot up to place a chaste peck on his kiss bitten lips. He chases pathetically after you for more, but you ignore it and shuffle out of his embrace, wrapping yourself in the throw blanket that was tossed on your bedroom floor. Eddie can’t help but scoff a bit. It’s not like he hasn’t seen every part of you already.

He leans up on his elbows and watches as you saunter to your closet as best as you can while tangled in the fabric. For a second, he thinks you’re going to get changed and ask him to leave. But he before he could dwell on it, he realizes he’s mistaken as you’re coming back to your bed with a sparkly pink gift in hand.

Your breath tickles his skin when you speaks. “A present.” Your words mumble together in laziness. “For you,” you add when you’re met with silence.

Eddie eyes the bag suspiciously and begins to open it when you lovingly pinch his bicep. He gently tears through the red and pink tissue paper stamped in white hearts, ignoring the uncomfortable weight in the pit of his stomach. A part of him dreads getting to the end of it, nerves aflame with anxiety. In the middle of it lies a painted guitar pick with a few bats threaded through a thin chain necklace and a custom mixtape with “happy valentine’s day” written in your handwriting.

Eddie falters, a sharp exhale jolting you off his shoulder.

Your voice cuts through the silence. “Do you like it?”

He doesn’t not like it. No, he fucking loves it. But it’s too much, too much for friends with benefits and too much for his fragile, self-sabotaging heart.

He forces himself not to look at you as he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from falling in love with you if he does. Instead, his eyes bore into the heart above the “i” on the mixtape, despising the way the moths in his tummy flutter alive at the sight of the small doodle. This is just you showing affection towards a friend, right? Eddie thinks you probably got Steve something similar. And even if you didn’t, even if your feelings for him aren’t just a figment of his imagination and you’ve poured your special affection into this one gift, he just can’t. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you or anyone for that matter.

“What is this?” He questions dumbly, wincing at the stern, whispered tone of his own voice.

He feels you trying to catch his eyes as you tilt your head towards him, but his gaze is strictly fixed on the mixtape. “I-I wanted to do something… something nice for Valentine’s day.” Your nervous stutters only worsen the tight feeling on Eddie’s throat.

He shakes his head, “That’s couple shit.” He works up the courage to look at you with a hardened gaze, and the sight nearly kills him. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, the ridges of your teeth bruising your skin maroon, while your brows are furrowed together in something that resembles hurt.

“Is that so wrong?”

It is wrong.

Eddie knows everything about this is wrong. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to play out. You’re only supposed to be fucking, not giving each other sentimental gifts that teeter on the edge of romance. He can’t have this, and he can’t have you because you deserve better. “I just wanted to do something for you.” He can tell by the slight tremble in your voice that you’re trying to keep your composure as best as you can.

“Well, you shouldn’t have. I don’t know what you think we are, but it’s not this.”

His words come out like venom, infiltrating your veins and piercing your heart. He watches your expression shift, hurt now laced into all of your pretty features. In the same way that Eddie masks his affection for you with cruel words, you’re quick to veil your pain with an anger that he knows he deserves.

“Fuck you, Eddie! You’re acting as if you haven’t treated me like your fucking girlfriend for months now.” You move away from him, letting the blanket drop off of you as you begin to dress.

He sighs harshly, eyes quickly darting away from your naked body. He can’t deny your point, but he also can’t let himself express what he truly feels. “That’s not what we agreed on when we started fucking around!”

You’re seething when you turn to look at him, now in a large hoodie and a pair of shorts. “Don’t you think I know that? Do you think I planned for any of this? You think I planned on liking you so bad that it hurts? I fucking didn’t. Things change, asshole! You certainly didn’t plan on liking me either!”

“I- I don’t-“ Before Eddie could spit out more words that he doesn’t mean, you walk to him, your body towering over his sitting frame and eyes squinted.

“Don’t start with that. Don’t try to deny it. You think I don’t recognize your little act? I know you like me, but you’re just self sabotaging because you think you don’t deserve anything, right? You aren’t worthy of happiness?”

Your words strike him hard like a wave of freezing water that crashes over him. He was a fool to think you wouldn’t see right through him.

You’re unstoppable as you continue to lash out at him. “Stop being so fucking mean to your self! When are you going to realize that you’re allowed to have nice things, that you don’t have to fuck everything up? Call me when you do, but until then, get out.”

It’s your words that snap Eddie out of his deranged state. You step back, giving him the space to walk out of your bedroom door and potentially never come back. But he stands up and follows you instead, his tall, lanky body now towering over you. He has to do something quick. He grabs your wrist as gently as he can possibly manage and tugs you toward him.

You watch him intently as he scans your face, trying to piece his words together in his scrambled mind.

He rubs a trembling hand down his face. “Fuck, I- I don’t know how to do this shit.” His heart feels like it’s pounding out of his chest. In some weird and twisted way, confessing his feelings for you is harder than hurting you. “I’ve never been good at feelings. I do shit like this to myself all the time, and I- I don’t know why.”

His eyes squeeze shut for a second, the sparks of light dancing behind his eyelids an odd comfort to his spinning mind. “B-But I do know that I like you a lot and…. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes soften upon seeing the tears threatening to spill out of his own, the anger that they once held slowly draining. Nodding softly, you wrap your hand around his forearm. The warmth and pressure of your touch grounds and encourages him. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I like you so much, and I don’t want to lose you ‘cause I don’t know how to handle things like these. But, I want to learn with you. Just give me a chance, sweetheart, please.”

He follows your gaze as it roams down between your bodies, lips bitten in thought. A few tedious seconds of silence, you finally meet his eyes.

“Eddie,” you start slow. “I really fucking like you. I don’t want to lose you either. We can take it slow, and figure things out together. But, if you’re getting in your head about stuff, you have to tell me, yeah?”

He feels like he could cry out of the myriad of emotions he’s experienced. But mainly because he doesn’t understand how someone as charismatic and kind as you is giving him another chance. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry that wasn’t fair to you.,” he murmurs sincerely.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.”

He sighs, feeling as if the weight of the world has finally come off him and let him breathe. “We’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you respond, arms coming around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug. He wonders if you can hear the way his heart swells for you. His eyes flutter closed as his own arms circle around your shoulders, comforted in the way you touch him.

“The mixtape looks sick and the necklace too. Thank you.” He mumbles into the top of your head, nose nuzzled in your hair. “Can we go on a drive and listen to it? Maybe go out to dinner after?”

You giggle against the corner of his lips. “Yeah, okay. But first-”

“What?” He asks, wide-eyed and ready to do whatever you want him to do.

“Put some pants on.”

thank u for reading! this goes out to my single chicks who love angst (me). please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed! i’d love to know your thoughts.

Suddenly I'm not afraid of ghosts anymore!

An otherwise quiet night is filled with the sniffling sounds of crying. The tv plays on mute, the picture of another random tv show flickering acts as the only light on in the living room.

You snuggle closer to Eddie on the couch. Feet digging deeper into the olive-colored fabric as your legs tangle. You’re both kind of sitting but mostly laying against the pillows at one end.

Eddie’s arm wraps around you, keeping a light grip as his other hand finds your jaw, gentle fingers softly caressing the skin there and along your cheek, taking your tears with them.

You follow the sparse flecks of freckles and moles on his neck, counting each one until you get to the scars stretching along the left side. Pink scars moving with each movement of his mouth and each swallow.

Fingers itch to caress his jaw just as his do to yours, but your fingers have a grip on the necklace resting on his chest. Your thumb rubs the dark red plastic, running along the edge, tickling the skin just below.

He tells you as much every time it happens, causing a wet laugh to leave you.

Your eyes are so focused on the lower half of his face, you don’t notice his watching you, watching every tear leave your eyes, watching every huff leave your mouth.

Watching you fall apart for just a bit in his arms, not keeping things bottled up for once.

His warm lips touch your cheekbone, kissing a tear that started to make its way down your face.

This goes on for the next few minutes, though it feels like seconds, between whispered love you’s as he kisses away as many tears as he can.