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pullhisteeth · 8 months

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Hi, lovely! Just wanted to drop by and say that I miss you and your amazing writing 🥹🧡 I understand if you're taking a break or stepping away from the app, but if you're up for it, I was wondering if I could drop in a request? No pressure at all! I REALLY love the way you write fluffy and angsty fics so I was wondering if you could write about a besties-to-lovers with Eddie where he asks the reader for help with asking a different girl out, without knowing about reader's feelings for him...and then along the way he realizes his feelings for the reader hehe and maybe a lil sprinkle of jealous!Eddie too 😎 Ily and I hope you're doing okay! 🩷🩷🩷

hi my love! this is the sweetest message thank you - not taking an intentional break, just busy as anything. work’s been my whole life the past couple weeks (today is actually my first day off in like a month) and what with that and trying to eat/sleep/speak to other human beings I am …… deceased

it’s so kind of you to say hello! I loved writing your request, it was a nice break for my brain and it felt good to get back into it. ♡ love you!

contains hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. tried to get some jealous!eddie in there for you :-)

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Eddie looks pretty like this.

He’s sitting at your desk in the library. You’re not sure why he’s here, though that wasn’t your first thought when you spotted him on your way over. He’s hunched over slightly, unruly hair keeping his face hidden, but it’s catching the light of the afternoon sun just right and it’s glowing a blushing golden and the flutters in your gut are relentless.

“Hey,” you murmur, wary of both startling him, and the strict Hawkins Library warden who likes to shush people like it’s a sport. Regardless he starts, shoulders jumping and face whipping up and around to look at you with wide, surprised eyes that soften when he realises who you are.

“Hi, sugar,” he says, voice ebbing as he notices how loud he’s being. He looks around quickly, just in case he’s about to get scolded, before looking back up at you and beaming. It doesn’t fool you, though; his presence here coupled with the sheen of anxiety behind his eyes gives him away.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, setting your backpack down on the table and taking the seat opposite him.

He begins fiddling with his ring again and diverts his eye. He’s nervous and you want to know how to fix it more than you wish to let on.

You hum an encouraging noise when he says nothing, sliding textbooks out of your bag along with your pens.

“I, uh… I need your help,” he says warily.

“Oh? With what?”

“I want to, uh… I wanna ask Tara out,” he says, and the words come out in one quick breath, his eyes still on his hands. “But I dunno how.”

You’re quiet, busy hands halting with a book halfway open. You look at him, mouth agape, for a second too long - he looks up after a beat and catches you before you have the sense to close it.

“Please?” he begs, those eyes like a puppy dog, wide and brown and far too lovable. “I’d take her to the Hawk but she’s- Man, she’s way too cool, it’s intimidating, and I really wanna impress her, you know? And I think the Hawk’ll be too busy on Friday ‘cause I know that new movie’s out that all the kids wanna see, so what if-”

“Okay,” you say. You’re sharp, voice like a whip, cutting him off before he derails.

He looks at you blankly for a second before saying, “Really? Shit, thank you.”

You look down at the books in front of you, eyes on the printed pages but taking nothing in. “Take her to the Garage,” you tell him quietly.

“What?”

“The Garage,” you repeat, closing the textbook and piling it on top of the others to return them to your bag. “It’s on the east side, on the road out.”

“Yeah, I know where the Garage is, but- Wait, are you headin’ out already? You just got here.”

“Don’t feel like studying,” you say flatly. “The Garage is cool. Rob took me there once. Tara’d love it.”

“Hey, hey-” His restless hands reach over to grip your wrist, to stop you moving, but you’re slippery and quick and far too determined on leaving. “You don’t have to leave, I’ll leave you alone. Your exam’s next week, I don’t wanna-”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’ll study tomorrow.”

“But-”

“See you around,” you say quickly, tugging on the zipper on your bag and standing so fast it makes your head spin. You can hear him protesting behind you but it’s no use - the only place you want to be right now is home.

Eddie doesn’t call that evening. He doesn’t call the next day either, or the two following that. You float between your bed, the fridge and various shifts at work without so much as daring to call him yourself, though you lie awake at night and worry you’ve done something terrible, something earth-shatteringly cruel by leaving him like you did. Something so bad that twelve years of friendship is lost forever.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” you tell Nancy over the phone. It’s Thursday night, four days until your exam, and you haven’t spoken to Eddie since Sunday. “I was gonna spend forever like that. Maybe now I can move on or somethin’.”

“We both know you’re not going to move on,” she tells you. You groan, turning over onto your back to stare at your bedroom ceiling. Your bed is like a rotten pit, unmade for nearly a week and the past five days’ dirty (and clean) laundry is littered all over the top of the comforter. “And you shouldn’t. You’d just be hiding from your feelings.”

“I hate you,” you tell her, though the way your voice comes out through your smile deceives you. “You always sound so wise, how is that?”

“I am wise,” she says, smiling too. “And I’m wise enough to know that Eddie feels the same, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Apparently I’ve got the brains for both of us, ‘cause he’s a bit dumb like that sometimes.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” you whine, “I can’t get the image of him and Tara outta my head.”

“I can go, if you want,” she says.

“Huh?”

“I can take Rob to the Garage on Friday, keep an eye on stuff.”

“Shit, would you?”

“Yeah, why not? What’re you doing that night anyway?”

“Dunno,” you say, morose, “Probably heading to the library again.”

“Okay,” she says sympathetically. “You’re gonna smash this exam, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grumble.”

“Well I know you will. And then Indiana State’ll have the best biologist known to man on their campus.”

“Funny,” you say.

“I’m wise and funny? You’re kind tonight.”

“I’m gonna go, Nance.”

“Okay,” she says, laughing. “I’ll call on Saturday, okay? And please eat some dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, hanging up. You balance the receiver back on its stand and roll back over, willing the tears back when you feel them roll down your temples.

Friday nights are your favourite nights at the library.

Who else spends the one designated social evening of the week in a room designed for quiet? You, apparently, alongside two old ladies knitting in the comfy corner, and a kid who looks like he might be home from college for the holidays. You’re settled at your usual desk with textbooks and papers scattered everywhere - the tabletop, the chair next to you, the floor. You’ve been here for hours, pouring over all of your work, oblivious to most of the minimal movement and chatter happening in the room.

You’ve got a tape in your Walkman - classical, one your dad found at the record store downtown - so you feel Eddie before you see him. He startles you, his wide hand on your shoulder, and you jump, pulling your headphones down.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe, your heart beating a mile a minute. You twist in your seat and put your pen down, looking up at him. You couldn't worry about the warden if you tried, far too enamoured by him despite everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He’s hovering over you, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink. You notice he has his nice shirt on - a deep blue, so dark it’s almost black - and his lips are rosy.

“Tara needed the bathroom on the way home, this was the closest place. How’s it going?”

There’s a lilt to his voice that churns your stomach. It’s the one he gets at parties, or that night just before your birthday when the two of you drank wine in his living room and didn’t sleep until six in the morning.

He’s been drinking and, judging by the smell lingering on his clothes, smoking, too, and his smile and the pink blooming over his cheeks only makes the churning worse.

“Fine,” you tell him. “Was in the zone, sorry.”

“No,” he breathes, finally backing away. You fill your lungs and watch him as he rounds the table. His eyes keep moving from you to the door across the room, presumably watching for her. “I interrupted you, ‘m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Gotta run,” he says, face brightening in a way that makes you want to vomit. You turn back around and see Tara in the doorway, waving, beaming. “Don’t work too hard, please? Get some sleep. And eat something- Have you eaten at all today?”

He’s standing a foot or two from the table now, but he stops as he asks you this.

“Uh,” you look down at your watch. 12:07am. “I had lunch.”

“Shit, you need’ta eat something. Please.”

“Okay, Eds. I’ll have some toast when I get home. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve got this,” he says, and it’s here that the silly smile on his face falters. He still hasn’t moved, and you can see Tara looking over, watching. He’s looking at you and something breaks - his smile drops completely and his eyes go all sad and weird.

“What?” you ask, unamused.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Get some sleep okay? See you later.”

He turns and walks across to the exit, and you watch him leave. He’s slow and slumped, like someone’s just delivered bad news.

You head out fifteen minutes later, and chew unhappily on three slices of toast before you get to bed.

Studying until late is never a good idea.

You’re hopping around your bedroom, pulling stockings up your legs and praying to anything holy that the traffic on your way into work isn’t too bad.

“I know this isn’t really what you wanted to hear,” Nancy’s saying sadly. You’ve got the receiver propped between your cheek and your shoulder as you stumble around and stretch the cord within an inch of its life. “They just… It really did look like they were having fun.”

“He came to see me at the library,” you tell her breathlessly, desperate to think of anything but Eddie and Tara playing pool and laughing like lovedrunk teenagers

“What? When? Last night?”

“Yeah, said she needed a piss on the way home.” You stop hopping, both stockings finally in place, and take the phone in your hand. “He was really weird, actually.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. He seemed happy, but then he got all sad.”

“Did you tell him off?” she asks, faux-stern.

“No,” you tell her, “just told him I’d have dinner, and to have a good night.”

She hums, and you look at the clock.

“Shit, Nance, I’m sorry, I really gotta go, I’m gonna be so late-”

“No, no, you go, I’ll see you soon. And good luck on Monday, yeah? I know you’ll ace it.” -

Your body takes you to the library like it’s on auto-pilot or something. You finished the entrance exam three hours ago, and though it seemed to go okay, you daren’t be too optimistic. You’d hovered around town for a while, eating ice cream and watching birds, before your feet walked you right here: your desk on the first floor of Hawkins Library.

It’s here that you’ve been sitting for an hour or so, flicking through novels but finding no interest in the words on the page. Your brain is melted from a near-fatal combination overworking and overthinking, and without an exam to worry about, the latter is now the one clocking overtime.

You can’t get the picture of Eddie’s face out of your head. His eyes had been so sad, his face drooping like the dawning of some cruel realisation. The way he’d walked out of the room had matched it, sorrowful and curled over.

Worst of all, he hasn’t called.

There’s only two reasons you can think of. Firstly, he’s busy calling Tara instead of you. He’s telling her about his day, spinning new inside jokes and letting her hear his pretty laugh.

Or second: he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re too cold, flat, uninteresting. Tara is cool.

There is a third possibility that you daren’t think about for the sake of your own heart: that both are true.

You slam the hardback in your hands shut and place it roughly on the table.

“Woah, was it that bad?”

You look up and find Eddie standing across from you, precisely where he’d been that moment something had changed on Friday. He’s far less put together now, dressed in his usual bedraggled jacket and jeans.

He laughs as you stare at him. After a minute, he takes the seat opposite and pulls the book towards himself.

“Weird choice for you, sugar.”

“Quiet,” you tell him in a whisper, nodding to your right where the warden is circling.

“Sorry,” he whispers back with a smile. “What’re you still doing here? Wasn’t the exam this morning?”

“I like it here,” you tell him. A half-truth - you do, but you’d really rather be anywhere else right now.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “And how’d it go?”

You shrug. “Okay, I think. I hope.”

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do great.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” you say, looking out of the window to your left.

“What? That you’re smart?”

“That I’ll ace it. I have no idea.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “But you’ve definitely got a better idea than me.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, turning back to look at him.

“I just… You’ve got more brains than me, that’s all.”

He’s fiddling with his rings again, eyes trained on the tentative movements of his fingers rather than you. It gives you a chance to take in his face properly: tired, sallow, unhappy.

“How was Friday?” you chance. He shrugs. “Just okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” he says, voice flat and unfeeling. “Had fun, ‘til we came here.”

Your instinct is to be offended. You didn’t say anything cruel or unwarranted; in fact you barely said a thing at all. How could you have ruined the evening?

“What?”

“Tara, she, uh… She said bye when we left. I was walkin’ her home, only stopped here for the can, I mean- You know we’re miles from the park, took me forever to get back to mine. Thought, y’know…” You hum so he doesn’t have to utter the inevitable and break your heart.

“What happened?” you ask softly, hands on the table in front of you like an offering.

He looks troubled, truly, and it hurts - you may have gone a week without contact, the longest since he went on a fishing trip with Wayne when you were both 18, but he’s your best friend, and his pain is your pain.

He closes his eyes tight and sucks in a breath.

“When we left, she said… She told me I need to ‘really think about things’, which made no sense to me at the time, I guess ‘cause I was, like, 4 whiskey sours in and we’d smoked on the way over, and then she used the payphone outside to call a cab so I waited with her and walked home, and the next morning I realised what she meant.”

You look at him with nothing to say. He takes another deep breath.

“She probably saw me over here with you, y’know, and I’m sure to other people we seem pretty… Comfortable. And then you said you hadn’t eaten, and you looked so tired, I- All I wanted to do was take you home and make you dinner. And then the next morning, and, like, all weekend, all I could think was that one day some other guy’d be doin’ that for you, some college guy or somethin’, and I’d have to watch, ‘cause you’re my friend.”

“Eddie, I don’t understand.”

You’re genuinely bewildered. He’s still whispering, or at least talking in a low voice, and at multiple points during the past five minutes you thought you’d completely misheard him. It’s definitely your Eddie sitting opposite you - he has a tendency to be a little dramatic, and this is certainly that - but he’s never been so brashly honest like this with you before.

“I had fun with Tara, really, but… I realised I’d spent all night thinking about how much better it’d have been if you’d been there.”

You can feel the flush like fire up your neck and across your cheeks. Your palms are clammy so you pull them inwards, back towards yourself, to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I think I need to get some air,” you say, standing and leaving without waiting for him.

You hear him behind you as you descend the stairs and push the clunky glass door open. You’re met with a wall of cold air and you breathe a heaving sigh as you stand in its frost.

The door opens again only a few seconds later, and you turn to face your friend.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I need to know that you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me.”

“You left your coat,” is all he says, handing you the jacket. You don’t move, too stunned, so he steps behind you and you let him manipulate your arms into the sleeves like a sullen child.

“Eddie,” you bite, impatient and frustrated.

“Yeah,” he breathes behind you. When the coat’s on, he squeezes your shoulders, and you round on him.

“Please just tell me what the fuck is going-”

“I think I love you,” he says, louder than you. It’s a declaration, said without hesitation or subtlety. It’s so confidently loud that a couple of people leaving the library turn to look.

“It shouldn’t have taken me taking someone else out to realise it, but fuck, once I did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess ‘cause we see each other all the time I never really questioned why I think about you so often, or whatever, but… I wanted to take you home and make you dinner on Friday, make sure you got some sleep, fuckin’ look after you. Made me feel dumb as hell because you’re not a kid or anythin’, but I just want you to be okay.”

You’re not sure when you started crying. Maybe it was as early as the declaration itself, but you know that by the time he told you he wants to take care of you, tears were rolling over your cheeks, unstoppable and filled with elation.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers, stepping toward you without thinking, reaching out to hold you somehow. He settles for a hand on your upper arm, almost at your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I-”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m, uh- I’m happy,” you say, giggling, your tears making it wetter, thicker. “They’re happy tears.”

“Oh, good,” he breathes, shoulders sloping. You spot the beginning of a grin through cloudy vision. “Thank god.”

While you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper, Eddie’s hand moves from your shoulder and to your neck. You feel the heavy weight of him pressing there, not threatening but a comfort. It forces you closer, until you’re both looking at each other and laughing.

“The exam went really well,” you tell him. “Honest.”

“I knew it would,” he says, curling a finger behind your ear to move a piece of hair from your face. “You’re gonna kill it at college.”

“I’ll miss you. And everyone else.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon,” he says softly, fingers dancing until he’s cradling your face. His other hand is stuffed in his pocket, and you’re close enough that you can reach in and grasp it, pulling it out so you can wind your fingers between his. He looks down and smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper and you almost miss it - almost. “For the exam, I mean. You did well, y’deserve a kiss.”

“Sure,” you say, laughing again. “For the exam, yeah.”

He chuckles before dipping his head just enough. You lift up to meet him halfway and he presses his lips to yours, firm but quick.

“Again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t ask questions. He bows again and kisses you, his force solid and homely. You kiss him back, breathless and keening.He’s warm and you want to take, take, take. You only stop when the door opens behind you again, creaking and followed by quick footsteps as someone else leaves.

Eddie kisses your nose and says, “Shit, you’re cold.”

“Can we go home?”

“No,” he says, and before you can finish protesting, he adds, “We have to celebrate. You’re done with studying! Let’s go get milkshakes or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, determined that you won’t be going to the diner you work in. “How about pizza?”

“Whatever you want, smartie pants.”

You physically bristle at the petname, cheeks flushing again despite the chill. Eddie’s arm settles around your shoulders and squeezes as he kisses your temple.

You stop walking once you reach the end of the block. He stops with you and turns to look at you without dropping your hand.

"I think I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I didn't say- Back there, I should've said it. I- Well, I know I love you."

He smiles - beams - at your return of his declaration. He squeezes your hand in his and tugs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let's go."

#thank you !!!#request #honestly my life is a nightmare rn I promise u I would rather be doing this #I hope you like it x #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request #stranger things 4 #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff

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akicult · 1 year

Text

contains ; domesticity. bf!suguru. suggestive themes. modern / college au. geto wants you to be his housewife basically. just a short drabble. mostly fluff.

just thinking about college bf!suguru that didn’t realize he was a domestic person until he met you.

he’s still young, only in his third year at university and he’s still deciding on what his near future will look like. he’s had his fair share of girlfriends, and little hookups, and to be quite frank—he didn’t think he was done either.

how was he supposed to know the first night he met you, bent over his backseat, was about to be the start of the most serious relationship he’d ever have.

that night started the first of many, slowly realizing he was only asking to hookup just because he wanted to see you. how he’d send a pickup text, with a frown on his cheeks because he thought you were only in it for that reason.

and when he finally swallowed his stubbornness, he was met with the most amazing two years of his life, stuck with you by his side.

college bf!suguru who, until he met you, hardly even dreamt about a future where the love of his life would carry his child in her arms, kissing his cheek and brewing a cup of coffee for the two of them to share in the morning.

he didn’t even care to imagine what that future would be like, what the woman would look like. it didn’t feel achievable, or even desirable until he fell in love with you.

and it was a random realization, but looking back on it—it was building. slowly.

weeks and weeks spent of you just pampering him, praising him, for even the most average things. like, getting an amazing score on an exam, and all you had to do was say, “aw! good job, baby!” before he was putty in your fingertips.

his room is all messy, deep dark circles under his eyes. it was procrastination’s fault—his fingers hurt from typing on his computer all day thanks to waiting until hours before a huge essay was due.

you offered to leave his apartment, to give him the concentration he needs to get it finished, but he was ushering a “no, no stay,” because he honestly didn’t want you to leave. so you stayed, situating yourself in the other room, occasionally popping in to check up on him—and eventually lay on his bed after he insists you to.

it’s only when he finally finishes—8 hours later and it’s already nighttime. his shoulders are slouched, his back is stiff and he’s walking out of his room with his closed computer weighing by his side.

and you’re still there.

not only are you still there, but you’re washing his dishes.

hair clipped back, sweatshirt engulfing your body and sweats tightly tied around your waist. you’re humming along to some music that plays over a speaker—quiet but loud enough to know what song is playing.

you look so utterly homey.

so…domestic.

like you’ve settled into your personal home after a long day at work, just blissfully scrubbing away on glossy white dishes that were previously eaten on. your clothes acknowledge that you’re comfortable, uncaring of what he sees you in.

although it’s not just the fact that you’re dressed like that—it’s the fact that you’re cleaning his things.

cleaning a mess you didn’t even make, just out of the kindness in your heart that’s making geto’s throat close and his palms sweaty. he’s in absolute awe that he doesn’t realize you’ve noticed his presence until you’re turning to face him.

“oh! did you finish?” you ask, turning the water off and rushing towards him.

he’s blinking, nodding slowly. “yeah—just submitted it.”

“yay! ‘m so proud of you!” you grin, lacing your fingers behind the back of his neck and pulling him in for a chaste kiss like you always do—but it feels so much different this time.

like you’re congratulating him on a big promotion, tugging on his work tie and kissing him until he’s forgetting his own name.

he feels like his ring finger is so cold, and there’s a missing heavy weight that’s never even been there in the first place.

like he’s an idiot for not tying you down on the spot—wrapping vows and vows around the two of you until you’re barely mobile.

and he wants to be your doting husband for the rest of his life. he wants to walk through his front door every evening with an awaiting kiss to his cheek, and a home-cooked meal fresh in his senses.

he wants to go to sleep with you in his arms every night, mumbling sweet ‘i love you’’s after flickering off the bedside lamp.

and maybe, just maybe one day, he wants to hear the gentle pitter patter of two little feet charging down the hallway.

this is accidentally freud coded (emphasis on accidentally)

#: ̗̀➛ — drabbles <3 #i wrote this while i was IMPOSSIBLY high. like baked out of my mf mind.#i have writers block #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #i wanna be his little housewife so bad #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk / college au #geto suguru x chubby reader #suguru geto x reader #tw: domestic themes & suggestive content #jjk x chubby!reader #geto drabble #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x you #btw i just want everyone who has been sending me requests; i’ve seen them and they’re in my drafts!!!#i love getting asks i’m just very busy and suffering w writers block rn. i promise they’ll be posted at some point!!

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