"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."
♡ eddie loses a ring & you find it
♡ eddie clears out a drawer in his room for you
♡ surprising eddie with a tidy bedroom
♡ eddie cooks for you, but burns the food
♡ you bite eddie’s arm
♡ eddie when you have seasonal allergies
♡ eddie draws for you a lot. you get one tattooed
♡ the first “i love you’s” with eddie
♡ best friend eddie pines for you
♡ eddie is sick & you take care of him
♡ you’re each others favourite person
♡ eddie distracts you while doing homework
♡ a perfect moment with eddie
♡ eddie learns a new song
♡ you’re drunk & eddie helps you get ready for bed
♡ eddie holds you after a rough day
♡ eddie’s had a crush on you for years
♡ getting ready for bed with eddie
♡ eddie is finally graduating & you & wayne have a surprise for him
♡ napping in eddie’s room
♡ meet cute
• the 30th
• eddie’s jean chain
• your necklace
• eddie says “i love you” first
• horror movies with eddie
• eddie’s love language
• eddie loves taking care of you
• the ring on eddie’s right hand
• eddie when you have insomnia
• there’s something in your teeth, eddie gets it out
• eddie is your weighted blanket
• you paint your nails eddie’s favourite colour
• riding bikes with eddie
• drunk eddie thoughts
• eddie wears glasses; you think he looks pretty
• eddie brushes his teeth after he smokes
• coworker eddie x receptionist reader
• summer nights with eddie
• eddie believes in ghosts (headcanon)
• eddie at the community pool
• eddie buys a mini water gun (hc)
• eddie learns magic tricks
ཐི༏ཋྀ
smells like heartbreak .
I know it doesnt the exact same with elliott's room, but i dont think making a wooden wall for this is good (and i'm too lazy making the texture)
inspired by Cherrys ( @ceriseheaven) high!Eddie blurb it got me thinking
because I love to push buttons of my partner, just to get a little rise out of them, to make them giggle, I feel like eddies is the same.
Never leaving your side, especially when he's high and for a split moment when he loses you, you've just gone to pee. But without him?!
he can't have that, so he walks to the bathroom, and rattles on the door handle going "Baaaaabee"
"What do you want?" you'd laugh, because this is just routine now.
"Let me in I miss you"
"No! go away I'm trying to pee!"
"Lemme in! let me watch you pee"
"NO!"
"Lets pee together" he'd jokingly suggest.
"Oh my god Edward" you're laughing into your hands, elbows leaning on the top of your knees as you try your hardest to just focus on peeing.
"You can stay sitting and pee, and I'll pee through your legs, it'll be like a party trick"
"I can't pee with you standing so close to the door!"
and he'd shove his fingers under the bottom of the door and wiggle them at you.
"If you don't love me, you can just say it" he says dramatically, you can tell he's talking through the crack of the door, probably laying on the floor to do so. "Wont let me watch her pee, wont even let me pee with her" a large sigh. "SHE HAAATTEESSS MEEEE"
And when you finally do manage to pee, flushing the toilet and washing your hands, you swing open the door to see him laying on the floor, looking up at you with a big smile, knowing he got to bug you for a few extra minutes.
just a lil request for fluff with steve or eddie!
reader has very specific sleeping conditions and usually sleeps w a pillow between her legs and her pillows just so, but she forgets it one night staying over at steve/eddie’s house. she’s squirming and can’t get comfy and when he finally finds out what’s wrong he offers her his pillow. reader declines and then he puts his thigh between her legs and you’re just like oh😍😍
This one had me going FERAL. I kept it PG but this just hits the spot I swear. I went with Eddie for this one! wc 0.7k
You rolled over in bed for maybe the sixtieth time that night. You tossed and turned, desperate not to wake up your boyfriend. Tonight was your first time staying the night at Eddie’s, so you had taken your time to prepare. You thought you had packed everything. Your toothbrush, pajamas, and clothes for the next morning were neatly packed into your backpack, giving you a false sense of security. But now, as the p.m. transitioned into the a.m., you could perfectly picture your king-sized pillow in the center of your bed. It mocked you in your mind, and while sleep weighed on your eyes, your body resisted.
Facing Eddie now, you admired his serenity. You envied him. Not a single thought in his head as he lightly snored next to you. His eyebrows had softened, and his mouth hung slightly agape. You hoped that if you watched him long enough, your body would catch it like sleep was contagious. But after some time, your body continued to refuse rest. You huffed back into your pillow, perhaps louder than you should have, adjusting again to face the wall.
“You’re moving a lot, baby,” you heard Eddie whisper.
You winced, silently cursing at yourself for waking him. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you ok?” Eddie asked, adjusting himself onto his forearm.
You rolled back over. “I’m fine. I’m just having trouble sleeping is all.”
Eddie’s expression, though hard to pinpoint accurately in the dark, shifted to one of thoughtfulness. “You know, if you’re feeling nervous about this, it makes sense. It’s a big next step, and—”
“No, no,” you chuckled. “I’m good, Eddie. I feel really good about this.” You reached out for his hand. “I promise. It’s just… I forgot my pillow.”
“Your pillow?”
“It’s the only way I can sleep.”
“We can trade if that one isn’t good enough.”
“This one’s good. It’s my leg pillow I’m missing.”
“Your… leg pillow?”
You were losing him. You felt heat creep up to your cheeks. “I, uh, keep a pillow between my legs, and I swear it’s so comfortable. Here.” You took the pillow from your head and slotted it between your legs to demonstrate. “See? This should be fine, actually. I’m sorry I kept you up.”
“But now you don’t have a pillow.” Eddie frowned.
“It’s ok. I’m using my elbow. It’s fine.”
Eddie took his pillow from under him and slid it over to you. “Use this. I don’t need it.”
“I’m not taking your pillow.”
“You know I can sleep anywhere anyway, and you’re my guest. Take it, please.”
“I’m not taking your pillow!” you repeated.
“Baby,” he dragged.
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “Get some sleep, ok?”
You rolled away once more to face the wall. You brought the pillow from your legs to your head, an unspoken admission of defeat.
You sighed softly to yourself. You tried to remain positive. All you needed was patience, and you were sure to fall asleep. Eddie’s willingness to give up his pillow for you was not lost on you. He was ever the gentleman, even at the expense of his own comfort. You couldn’t help the small smile forming on your lips. The gesture filled you with warmth. You settled into place, reveling in your growing fondness for this boy.
“Nuh-uh. This isn’t over,” Eddie said breaking the silence. His arms slipped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He nudged his knee between your legs causing you to gasp.
“Eddie!”
“Listen. I’m not just gonna let my girl suffer. Now, you have something to squeeze, and I have you to hold. It’s a win-win, really. Now, settle in.”
You were thankful for the dark, so Eddie couldn’t see the furious blush ravaging your features. You carefully adjusted yourself against his thigh, almost ashamed of the near-instant relaxation you were gaining from this. You peered over your shoulder to face him. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”
“Of course, baby. I just want you comfortable. Now, try to sleep, alright?”
You nodded, a yawn already taking hold of you. You settled into Eddie’s touch, truly resting for the first time tonight. With the miracle work of Eddie’s thigh, you fell asleep within minutes.
A/n: by the time this is out my wisdom teeth will be gone but I heard it’s okay because they don’t actually hold wisdom :(
Warnings: short, minor injury? Sedation mention and it’s after affects, not proof read, rushed
Your body shakes as they turn on the IV drip. Your eyes search his for reassurance.
“I’m right here sweetheart.” His hand is big, and steady as it holds yours.
“Jay I’m in love with you so much.” You weep softly, words muffled by the gauze.
“Oh I know sweetheart.” His strong hands look so good working the wheel, driving you both home.
“Did you know you’re so beautiful?” Your voice quivers.
“Mhm. You’re beautiful too.” His voice is gruff, and soothing.
You gasp all too dramatically, “I am beautiful?”
“Mhm.”
“Oh wowwww…”
By the time you get home you’re half asleep. His big arms scoop you up with ease, you feel like you’re floating.
The massive bed cradles you. Jason makes sure your head stays elevated on the mountain of fluffy pillows.
You’re technically asleep but you feel him leave, and you’re weeping again.
Can’t control the waterworks.
“Oh…oh sweetness you okay? What happened?” He carefully thumbs the tears beneath your eyes away.
“W-where did you go?” Your voice feels as broken as it sounds.
“Just went to get you some things baby.” He holds up the special ice pack he bought you, gentle hands wrapping it in place around your swollen cheeks.
“S’the pink one? I love pink.”
“Yes I know.” He coos.
“I don’t deserve you.” You sob.
He rubs a hand on the back of your neck, “Oh yes you do,” he leans down to catch your gaze, “Sweetheart would you mind doing me a favor?”
You wouldn’t mind doing him all the favors, “Hm?”
“Let’s take a breath, get those waterworks to stop yeah? Being dehydrated doesn’t feel good.”
He’s right, it doesn’t. That doesn’t stop you though.
“Hey…sugar look at me please.” The anesthesia doesn’t change how willing you are to follow his gentle instructions. “There’s my sweet thing. No more tears okay? No more tears.” He whispers against your temple.
“If I can’t have tears what can I have?” You sniff.
“You can have some mashed potatoes yeah?” He seems to grab a steaming bowl of it out of nowhere.
“Oh…yeah that’s good.”
He chuckles. “I mixed ‘em with some broth.” He holds up the spoon to your lips, “Good?”
You carefully swallow. “Mhm…Jason my teeth feel big.”
“Yeah…” he’s careful not to comment on how swollen your cheeks look from the surgery.
“And they feel badly.”
“I know baby…I know. You were so brave today.” He runs his fingertips over your brow, keeping the urge to cup your cheeks at bay.
“It hurts…”
He nods thoughtfully, immediately pulled into action finding your aftercare instructions. He opens a couple pill bottles, offering each pill to your mouth in turn.
“Swallow f’me.”
And you do. And then you giggle.
“Oh I’d swallow for you alright.”
But he doesn’t laugh? He just…looks at you.
His green eyes hold the golden rays peaking through a heavy forest; his love is the first breeze of spring, and the last chill of winter.
“Your eyes are the green sunlight, and you’re fresh.” Gosh aren’t you a romantic. Some words might be missing there though.
He smiles. “You, my sweet love, are the bed that makes a home. Now hush…don’t want you hurting that pretty mouth.” He kisses your forehead.
But he wanted to say more than that. You are my reprieve.
He stays with you until you fall asleep.
Eddie Munson x female reader
• he hates it lowkey, but only goes because you love it so much. you go all out and pack a picnic basket full of food and towels, sunscreen and even a pail and shovel as a joke.
• he hates the sand. that’s the worst thing about it. it gets everywhere in his hair and he’s always shaking his head like a dog trying to get it out.
• when dustin comes along they wrestle while you tan.
“eyes on me, henderson. not my lady.”
• he’s TERRIFIED of getting in the water and refuses to go in any deeper than past his knees. every time he brushes against seaweed or touches a seashell he screams like a little girl and runs out as quickly as he can.
• caused a fiasco because he yelled shark! and the whole beach flocked out of the water.
• likes it more when he lays on the beach towel with you and watches the sunset.
• burns so bad it’s not even funny, especially on his forehead.
• throws a fit when dustin knocks over his sand castle.
eddie munson x reader (nb) ⟡ 18+ mdni !!
fluff, trouble eating, food stuff ; insp. by @br0ck-eddie 💛🌟
You’ve struggled with eating before, so Eddie starts packing your lunches. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest; he’s been making lunches since he was in school, scavenging like a mama raccoon to deliver himself from the outright horror of Hawkins’ cafeteria lunches. Now graduated, he considers you an extension of himself, looking after you in every way possible; buying the groceries, cutting your sandwiches, picking your fruit — building a better life for you than he could ever imagine for himself. He just wants you to feel happy and well-loved, without the added obstacle of choosing to eat every day. In the dimly-lit kitchen each night before work, he burrows scraps of paper for scribbling love notes in earnest; a saved receipt here, a takeout menu there — anything he could use to proclaim how much he loves you, his brazen black scrawl etched in big, sloping letters:
I love you. Be brave.
He folds the note in half like a shared secret between friends, tucking the letter in your bag for safekeeping. When no one’s around, he actually kisses the paper, a pitiful sap for the curve of your smile. At the end of the island, he sets your lunch beside his own, two halves of the same whole. Not one without the other. To him, these lunches are tiny reminders that you are loved; that you’re wanted; that there’s someone to come home to at the end of the day who wants you to eat well. And he’d spend the rest of his life packing you lunches, if only to remind you that you are safe, and abundantly loved.
pregnancy cravings with miya atsumu.
Pregnancy cravings never really made sense to Atsumu. Then again, he never got to the part of anatomy and physiology when he was studying physical therapy before he decided to go pro as a volleyball player.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive; no, he prided himself on being a great husband. And now, with you, his wife, pregnant with your first child, he was determined to be the most supportive, loving, and accommodating partner ever.
Nothing was going to stand in his way—not distance, not logic, and certainly not impossible cravings.
It started simple. Like it always did.
You wanted a specific pastry from a bakery on the other side of Japan? Done. He booked the fastest delivery service he could find, and when that wasn’t an option, he flew there himself, picked it up, and brought it back.
Talk about rich.
Homemade food? Good thing Osamu had drilled the basics of cooking into him, though he still got yelled at by his twin when he accidentally burned rice. But hey, effort counted, right?
Then, the cravings started getting weird.
You’re sitting on the couch with a blanket over your lap when you look up at him with serious eyes. “I want Osamu’s cooking.”
Atsumu blinked. “Alright, I can ask him—”
“But I don’t want to eat it. You eat it.”
He frowned, confused.
“Huh? Ya want me to eat ‘Samu’s cookin’?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
Atsumu scratched his head, wondering if this was some kind of test. “And that’s gonna make ya feel better?”
“Yes.”
“… Even if ya don’ eat it?”
“Uh-huh.”
Atsumu blinked. “That doesn’t make no sense.”
“Atsumu, please don’t question me.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Osamu. “Oi, ‘Samu, I need ya to cook somethin’—no, not for [Name]—for me.” There was silence on the other end before Osamu sighed heavily and reluctantly agreed.
That night, Atsumu sat at the dining table, stuffing his face with his brother’s food while you sat across from him, smiling in satisfaction as you watched. Osamu just did his part as a supportive brother for his twin.
The next day was even worse.
“A seedless mango,” you murmured, rubbing your belly.
...
“A what?”
“A seedless mango. I want it.”
“… [Name], sweetheart, baby, I love ya, but that don’t exist.”
“It does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I want it.”
Atsumu groaned. “Where am I gonna get a seedless mango?”
“Figure it out, please?”
He spent hours searching online, calling fruit vendors, and even asking Osamu if his suppliers had some secret black market seedless mango (Osamu asked him if a volleyball that was going 120 km/h hit his head).
No luck.
In the end, Atsumu cut up a normal mango, carefully removed every trace of the seed, and handed it to you with a hopeful grin.
You took one look at it and frowned.
“It’s not the same.”
Atsumu wanted to cry.
-
“I need you to wear a face mask.”
Atsumu blinked at you from your bed. “Huh? Why?”
You huffed quietly, fidgeting with the sheets. “Because your face is annoying.”
Atsumu gasped, hand clutching his chest. “My face?! The one ya love so much?!”
“Yes.”
“The one ya vowed to look at forever in sickness and in health?!”
“Yes.”
“The one ya called ‘beautiful’ when I asked ya if I was hotter than ‘Samu?!”
“I love you, but right now, your face is irritating me.”
Atsumu stared, utterly betrayed, before sighing in defeat. He got up, went to the closet, grabbed one of the disposable masks he’d bought during flu season, and put it on.
“There. Happy now?”
You smiled sweetly. “Very.”
Atsumu flopped onto the bed with a groan, pulling the blanket over himself. As he lay there, sulking, you scooted closer and rested your head on his chest.
“I love you, you know that?” you murmured.
He grumbled. “Ya sure? Feels like ya hate me sometimes.”
You chuckled. “No, I love you. My hormones just don’t.”
He sighed. “Yer so lucky I love ya more than life.”
“I know. Pregnancy is so weird.”
And the worst has yet to come.
-
Atsumu should be asleep by now, but no, he had to be individually popping popcorn. One kernel at a time, as per your request.
He initially told you, “Yer kiddin’.”
You were not.
And that was how Atsumu found himself in the kitchen at three in the morning, painstakingly popping one kernel at a time in a tiny pan. Every time he accidentally popped more than one, you, who were sitting on a stool with your hands on your belly, would click your tongue disapprovingly.
“You put in two, Atsumu.”
“This is torture,” he grumbled, but he kept going.
-
“I want ice cream,” you said.
Atsumu perked up. “Oh, easy. What flavor?”
“I don’t know.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Uh… okay. I can get a few different kinds?”
“I need to taste them all.”
Atsumu frowned. “Like… all the flavors?”
“Yes.”
“… Babe, there are like fifty flavors at the ice cream shop.”
You nodded. “And I need to taste all of them before I decide which one I want.”
Atsumu let out a long, suffering sigh, but being the devoted husband he was, he marched straight to the ice cream parlor and ordered a ridiculous amount of sample cups. The poor employee stared at him in disbelief.
“You… want every flavor?”
“Yeah.”
“Every single one?”
“Yeah.”
“Sir, that’s—”
“My wife is pregnant, and if I don’t do this, I might not make it to the end of the week.”
The employee, upon hearing this, immediately started getting to work.
When Atsumu got home, you took one spoonful of each, nodded, and, after going through every single cup, announced:
“I don’t want ice cream anymore.”
Atsumu fell to his knees. Defeated.
-
“I need you to stand in the corner for a while.”
Atsumu looked up from his phone, confused. “Huh?”
“The corner. Stand there.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just feel like you should.”
Atsumu squinted. “Babe, are ya makin’ me into a damn decoration?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
Atsumu sighed but did it anyway. He stood in the corner of your living room for a full ten minutes while you sat on the couch, happily watching TV. At some point, Osamu FaceTimed him, took one look at the scene, and hung up.
-
The next day, you called him while he was at practice, which was rare in itself because you did just leave messages whenever you knew he was practicing.
“Babe,” you said in a tone that made his stomach drop.
“… Yeah?”
“I need you to bring me a cheeseburger.”
He let out a relieved laugh, wiping the sweat off his brow. “That’s easy! I’ll grab ya one on my way ho—“
“But replace the buns with pancakes.”
Atsumu froze. “Come again?”
“You heard me.”
“I dunno if I did, sweetheart.”
“Pancakes. Instead of buns. Oh, and I want honey to go with it.”
Atsumu nearly dropped his phone.
“Yer messin’ with me.”
“I’m really not.”
And you weren’t. That evening, he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the precision of a professional chef before assembling the most unholy creation he’d ever laid eyes on—a cheeseburger with pancake buns, honey drizzled over the meat.
You took a bite and hummed softly. “Oh my god, this is better than sex.”
Atsumu, who had spent hours perfecting his technique in the bedroom, felt personally offended by that.
-
“Atsumu,” you murmur. “I need you to switch sides of the bed with me.”
He sighed. “No.”
“Atsumu.”
“[Name], baby, darlin’—I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because my side is closer to the door in case of an intruder.”
You chuckled quietly. “Tsumu, please. I need to sleep on that side.”
Atsumu stared at you, conflicted. He had never—not once—slept on the other side. It was unnatural. Wrong. It went against the very foundations of your marriage.
But you were looking at him with those tired, hormonal, pleading eyes. And he was sure you’d tell him you could barely see your feet now and often experience heartburn, all because of his unborn baby.
With a heavy sigh, Atsumu switched sides with you.
“You’re a good husband,” you whispered, patting his cheek.
Atsumu, lying in the unfamiliar position, staring at the wrong wall, whispered, “I’m a broken man.”
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