Reminder To Writers:

Kuroo was probably looking at kenma like "My son...He grew up so fast"

Deadass dude😌 U already know Rooster Head is like

idk what I’m doing but call me a duckling bc I be following all the ppl who use this format and it looked like fun

Soap who meets you, a medic for the Shadow Company, after he’s injured on the mission. Soap who’s dragged by Ghost up into the chopper, who you lean over and promise you’ll do your damn bestest to make sure he looks pretty by the end of this.

“Let me know if you see the light at any point, Sergeant MacTavish. That’s usually a bad sign.”

Soap who won’t stop looking you in the eyes as you work, mumbling to himself in such a thick accent you figure it’s best to ignore him, especially while finishing a suture on his chest that draws out an excessive groan.

Soap who flirts with you the entire time. Soap who’s ignorant to the gaping wound on his chest, and is much rather invested in the way your smell washes over him as you hover, ponytailed hair dangerously close to his hand. Soap who lets his head fall onto your shoulder on accident, Bonnie, so sorry, even as he sniffs for more of that shampoo and tang of sweat, because you’d been working so damn hard to keep little old him alive.

Soap who lets you wrap around him, pressing your hands against the wall and the cushion next to his thigh to get leverage to lean him up and off the cot.

Soap who clings a little too tightly to your shoulder as you lead him down and away, safely back to his base and into his CO’s protection.

“Thank you for not dying on me, John,” you say as you guide him back to Ghost.

Soap who watches you still, dazed little grin on his face even as Ghost grapples a hand at his shoulder——to hold him steady or hold him back, he’s not really sure.

Soap who wouldn’t mind staying with you, though. For a little longer.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” And he throws you a cheeky wink despite his sickly flush.

“Screwball,” you mutter fondly, waving a dismissive hand over your shoulder as you make your way back up the Shadow heli’s ramp.

Soap who grins as you go, eyeing your ass as he leans over to Ghost with a whispered, “What ‘oes screwball mean?”

“‘Fuck would I know, Johnny? Now let’s get a fuckin’ move on.”

helloo! i want to hurt. i want to hurt so bad so, can i request some kageyama cheating angst? make it as sad as possible PLEASE i love angst sm🤷‍♀️😦🥰

another one that's been in the box for years, but honestly man how sad is this idea like i wouldn't have even known where to start. Kags is such a cinnamon roll why would he ever cheat whyyyyyy

so angsty bro i could never, but it's been a couple years so I'm sure your search for cheater kageyama has been sated

Language of Love (Akaashi x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Speaking French in front of your crush was not as discreet as you originally thought. Maybe you should just start texting from now on… 

A/N: I’m so thankful for the growth that has happened to my account in the small span of 48 hours! Here’s a short imagine that I got an idea for from this prompt by @writ-ing-promp-ts​. Akaashi is really OOC, so I’m sorry. And I also kinda rambled on too long in the first part, but oh well, I’m a lil tired. Enjoy! :) 

Word count: 1240

        The courtyard of Fukurodani was beautiful, to say the least. It was springtime, and you sat just below a freshly-bloomed cherry blossom tree. The pastel pink petals surrounded you either on the grass or floating with the wind. The flowery scent you inhaled was barely noticeable over the cold breeze it accompanied. The sun shined, birds chirped, bees buzzed, and you… well, you were jabbering in French to your sick best friend over the phone. You were sweating like a pig thanks to the topic of conversation, and occasionally flapped your arms up and down like the chicken dance just to dry off. Gross, right? Yeah, you thought so too. But the anxiety of talking about a crush in any language was enough to provoke undesirable side effects. 

        Setting down your phone to take off the hot blazer that was just making everything worse, you whined into the microphone, “Il est tellement attirant que je pourrais mourir. (He is so attractive that I could die.)” Your hand caught in a sleeve, so you began screeching at the jacket you were currently wedged in and attracted some unwanted attention. You nervously smiled at your fellow classmates before laughing and shrugging at your own predicament. Giving you sneers, they exaggeratedly stepped away from your general area before  exiting through the school’s gates while whispering among themselves. The smile on your face dropped into a snarl as you pulled with all your might on the stupid mandatory blazer. 

        Not realizing you were currently busy, your ever-so-sympathetic friend replied, “Arrête d'être un bébé et avoue déjà. Tu es trop dramatique. Il ne te mangera pas. (Stop being a baby and confess already. You are too dramatic. He won't eat you.)” Letting out a loud “Guh” as you finally escaped the human trap, you threw the evil jacket away from you and pouted. 

        “Je ne suis pas trop dramatique. (I am not too dramatic.)” You slumped back onto the rough bark of the tree and exhaled heavily. 

        “Alors arrêtez d'être un tel wuss et dites-lui! (Then stop being such a wuss and tell him!)” your friend demanded, and your phone shook at her volume. You understood her impatience; after all, you had harbored a crush on Akaashi for the past year now, and the only person who stood to take earfuls of your gushing was her. Overall, you were thankful, but that didn’t mean you weren’t shy. 

        “Mais que dois-je faire si Akaashi me rejette? (But what should I do if Akaashi rejects me?)” you mumbled softly, fiddling with the edges of your skirt. Your friend sighed heavily, but you were surprised at the gentle tone in her response. 

        “Tu fais ce que tout le monde dans le monde a fait. Tu t'en remets et trouvés quelqu'un de nouveau. C'est la seule solution. (You do what everyone else in the world has done. You get over it and find someone new. That's the only way.)” Her logic had always pissed you off anyway. Scoffing at the blatant statement, you began to pick at the dirt under your fingernails. Your eyes were saddened, and your shoulders slouched while you bounced your knees up and down in front of you. What ifs, all the what ifs ran through your head, and your heart pained in imaginary sadness at the scenarios. Your friend’s voice dragged you out of your thoughts once more.

        “YN, l'aimes-tu? (YN, do you like him?)”

        “As-tu vraiment besoin de demander? (Do you really need to ask?)” 

        “Alors c'est la seule raison pour laquelle tu devrais lui dire. Ne continuez pas à y penser pour toujours, faites-le. (Then that’s the only reason you should tell him. Don’t keep thinking about it forever, do it.)” Her words carried in the wind like an echo, and a breeze blew past your face, brushing away the stray hairs. Tapping your finger on your chin, you thought it over. It had been months, and you really did like him. He was always nice, and his bare-boned humor made you laugh. And no one could deny that he was truly attractive. 

        Hesitantly, you agreed, “D'accord. Je le ferai. Je vais lui demander de sortir. Souhaite moi bonne chance. (Okay. I will do it. I'm going to ask him to go out. Wish me good luck.)”

        “Bonne chance mon amie. (Good luck my friend.)” She sounded smugly victorious, but ended the call before you could berate her about it. Sighing exasperatingly, you dropped your head back harshly onto the base of the tree. Your hands dropped to your sides and nervously picked at grass while peering up at the pink branches above your form. 

        “Hey YN. You were speaking French just now, right?” Oh crap. Akaashi. A woozy feeling erupted right in the center of your head after you stood up too quickly to face him. Refraining from rubbing the pain away, you settled for a hasty nod at his question, not trusting your voice at the moment. 

        “That’s cool, you sounded pretty fluent too.” His voice was flat, but you had never heard it any other way, and that fact had never stopped the blush that rose on your face in his presence. It certainly didn’t stop the flush now. Suddenly, you remembered your friend’s words. Do it.

        “Well, you know, I-I could teach you some time,” you stuttered out. Hiding your shaking hands behind your back, you apprehensively smiled at him, but faltered when the corner of his mouth quirked up. His eyes glimmered at your suggestion while he suddenly grew smug. Your brows furrowed after he rolled his shoulders and placed his hands in his pants pockets, while his chest seemed to puff out. Was this really Akaashi?

        “That’s okay,” he retorts, “I already know French.” Excuse me, what?

        Your eye began to twitch and the smile on your face dropped. Blanching at his words, you hesitantly asked, “W-well, um, how much did you hear?” 

        “Enough.” He smiled softly at your amazed expression, chuckling behind his hand. Who the f**k is this guy?!

        “Oh. Ohhhh. Look, you might have misunderstood a couple of our words,” you sputtered. Akaashi was different today, it seemed. He was showing emotion, a lot of emotion. You choked on air when his own cheeks pinked as he stepped toward you. Staring at the petals he had crunched under his shoes, you mumbled, “We don’t really know the language that well, so you might have misheard a sentence or two. We definitely weren’t talking about you, that’s for sure-”

        The rest of your anxious rambling died on your tongue when he suddenly grinned at you. Ever so slowly, Akaashi caught a lock of your hair blowing in the wind and curled it around his finger gently. He was nervous too, you realized. But your breath caught in your throat when his gaze suddenly shifted and intercepted your own. Softly, he whispered, “Je t’aime bien aussi. (I like you too.)” 

👉👈🥺 can i request a suna rintarou x reader au where you helped him chase after a girl he likes but you slowly developed feelings for him and he called you out on your bday just to tell you he finally got the girl... :((

ye old request box item number three, and bruh all my apologies cuz this one didn't get much more than what was requested :'(

Yn helps him go after girl

She starts to get feelings for him

On your birthday, no one remembered

You get a call from him and get happy, bc at least someone remembered. Your heart fills with joy

You answer, and Suna is all excited, not making sense. You tell him to slow down with a giggle, and he does. 

“She’s going on a date with me this Saturday.”

Silence. He’s no doubt waiting impatiently for your response, but it never comes. 

“...YN?”

Beep.

You hang up and begin to cry. You were truly all alone. 

He Has a Nightmare About You (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: started watching this show for momma Steve, stayed for the other, also hot characters. Don’t judge me if a vecna version of this comes out soon👀 Enjoy!

Billy Hargrove:

He dreams of you often, but never quite like this.

You’re in his arms; his lips are on yours, and your hands are in his hair. 

When he pulls away, it’s to brush a strand back from your face, pushing it behind your ear while gazing into your eyes. A smile is on his face, inherently small and lopsided, but genuine. 

It’s one of those times where he can’t believe how happy you make him, how much he loves you. You turn him into a teenage boy with a puppy crush all over again, but as long as no one else is around, he doesn't mind that one bit. Vulnerability did not come easy to him, but with you, he’d tear down every wall he’d ever put up just to get closer to you. Just to hold onto you that much longer. 

“Billy…” you hum, your hands coming up to cover his own along your cheeks. He feels infinitely warmer, more relaxed at your touch, and he leans that much closer to you. 

“YN…” Billy drawls back teasingly, blue eyes soft and expectant on yours. Your breath ghosts over his lips, and fuck if he didn’t hate that you made a shiver roll down his spine. 

“I hate you.”

His smile falters. “What?”

You tug his hands off your face, leading them to drop to his sides before stepping back. You shake your head. “I hate you, Billy.” 

Billy’s body grows cold. His lips part as he searches for words, eyes raking over your face for any hint of jest. “This isn’t funny, YN.” He lets out a breathless laugh, but it’s dull and fake and trying to draw some sort of usual response from you. 

“It’s not supposed to be. I’m serious, Billy.” 

His nostrils flare, and he wants to be angry. He wants to grab you and pull you back into his chest and make you wish you’d never said those words, make you wish you never hurt him, make you promise that you’d never hurt him like this again. 

You said that once, that you’d never hurt him like he has been before. You promised.

He bites into his bottom lip, willing a level of restraint, or rather, indifference. 

She promised.

Time moved slowly the second you pulled away from him. Carefully, your arms came up to cross over one another at your chest. Your eyes hardened, not angry or frustrated, but certainly more serious and intentional from when you had said his name earlier. 

He’d never seen you so cold—not at him. 

“What changed?” The words slipped from his lips, but the second they did, he didn’t bother fighting to take them back. He felt trapped in his own skin, unable to escape the anger, the hatred, the i that coursed through veins. “Why now, I mean, after-” he cut himself off with a scoff, bitterly licking his lips, “-after fucking everything we’ve been through together, you just, what, hate me?”

He hated it, this. He hated you, and he’d never done that before. Even the thought of his betrayal being directed toward you made him feel sick. She promised.

Billy looked away, wrenching a hand through his hair and not bearing to stare at you when he spoke. “You- God,” the corners of his eyes pricked, “you said you loved me. What happened to that?” He glanced at you, hating, hating, hating that you were making him feel this fucking way. Throat tightening, he barked out, “What fucking happened to that?!”

“I don’t love you, Billy,” you muttered, seemingly unaffected by his display of emotions. “I could never.”

And you saw it. He knew you saw it. He knew you saw it because he wiped it away, and your eyes had followed his hand as he had. 

He was crying. Goddammit, he was so fucking weak. 

Despite it all, despite every single horrible moment in his life, he never knew the feeling of true despair until you were taking your love for him back and saying it wasn’t real. 

“Billy, come on.” Your tone was persuasive, placating like you were trying to reason with him. You were talking to him as though you were telling a child that Santa or the Easter Bunny wasn’t real, that they never were, and they never will be. 

You used that same soothing, calming tone the first time you tried to convince Billy that you did love him. He remembered your exact words. “I love you, and no matter how much you fight me on it, I won’t let you take that away from me.” You had been caressing a fresh bruise on his cheek, and the kiss you had left there had overpowered the pain of his father’s wound. 

“Don’t,” Billy mumbled. “Stop.”

Don’t corrupt that voice, he pleaded, though the words wouldn’t escape him. Don’t take that away from me.

“Billy.” You drew his attention back to you, and, despite the stiffness of his cheeks and lips, he sneered at your pitying gaze. “Be realistic. How could I have ever loved you?”

“Stop.”

“Your father hates you, Billy.” Your voice raised, eyes burning with a new fire into his own watery ones. “Your own mother left you. Do you know what that makes you?”

“Stop.”

“Do you know what that makes you, Billy?” you demanded, teeth bared. “It makes you unloveable.”

“STOP!”

“Billy?”

“STOP!” Billy flinched awake, sweat dripping down his forehead and spine, shivering at the breeze of his bedroom. Chest heaving, his eyes were wild and unfocused as they darted about the dark room, few objects such as his dresser and desk only visible due to the moonlight filtering through his window. 

Sighing heavily, Billy dragged his hands down his face, groaning softly and massaging his temples. 

“What a fuckin’ nightmare,” he grumbled before peering over at you. 

You, still curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully. Your hair splayed out along one of his pillows, one of his shirts wrinkled and twisted around your form, your leg still crooked over his hips. 

You were still his. Thank fuck, you were still his. 

“YN,” he shook you awake, one hand on your shoulder.

You hummed in your sleep, lips twitching downwards at the disturbance. “Wha…?” you grumbled, not bothering to open your eyes. 

“Babe, c’mon, let’s go for a drive. Wake up.”

“Nooooo,” you moaned. 

“Yessss.”

“Can I sleep on the drive?”

He raised a brow. “You think you’ll be able to?”

One eye of yours peeked open, focusing on him instantly. You pouted.

Billy’s chest tightened, but for the first time since the dream, he felt like he could breathe. Thank God. He was not going to sleep another wink tonight. Not in that damned house, at least. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll go. Stop giving me your little puppy dog eyes.” You rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a thud before rising to your feet and wrapping a blanket around your head and shoulders like a cloak. “But there are ground rules, mister.” You held up your hand to him. “One, you can’t drive over 30 miles an hour. Two, no loud music- or, wait, no music at all-”

“What?”

“-Three, only for the next hour or so, then we’re going back to my place to go to sleep.” You gave him a pointed look. “Deal?”

His lips sloped into his usual smirk as he rose to his feet, arms instantly moving to wrap around your waist and tug you into his chest, close and tight. 

“Deal.”

You. You, you, you. God, he never wanted to think about that nightmare again, and if he never again heard the words “I hate you” fall from your lips, even as a joke, it would be too soon. You were still his, and he knew, he fucking knew, dammit, that you loved him.

“Why are you so sweaty?”

“Don’t ask.”

Steve Harrington: 

“Steve,” Robin muttered softly. Her gaze was downcast, and she had one arm around the front of his chest and shoulders, trying to hold him back and redirect him. “Don’t look.”

“What’s going on?” He tried to peer around the others, all of whom either had their backs turned or looked at him mournfully. “Hey, what’s-” he tried to push past Robin, but Dustin rushed forward to help stop him, “-what the hell is going on?! Guys?!”

They all stood in a half circle around… something, he couldn’t see what. The kids and Nancy and Goddamn everyone except-

“YN,” Steve breathed out in realization. His heart was stuck in his throat, and the pounding of his own blood drowned out the quiet whispers of the others. “No. No, no, no, no—NO!” He shoved past the pairs of arms, pushing past a tearful Max and a sobbing Eleven, only to feel his whole body flinch back at the sight. 

“YN,” he whispered again, horrified at the sight, not wanting to believe it. “Oh God, oh fuck, oh God.”

Blood was- was everywhere. Steve’s knees wobbled and gave out as he collapsed into the forest floor beside you. His hands hovered over your body, feeling the heat rolling off it in waves from the gushes of hot, crimson liquid seeping from obscured wounds. A pool of it, he realized, dampened the knees of his jeans, cooling against his skin. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, “I’m scared. It hurts so bad.” You trembled, hands curled into tight fists as you clenched your eyes shut, tears trailing down into your sweat-soaked hair. 

“This isn’t right—you can’t… fuck.” He tore a hand through his brown tufts before springing into action, scraping himself along the damp soil to ease his legs underneath your back, your body lying perpendicular to his so he could lean your head in his lap. 

“YN, I…” he trailed off, gasping for air as his wavering hands encompassed your face. “I don’t know what to do,” he choked out helplessly. 

And you reached up to grasp his wrist, eyes so innocent and terrified. “Steve, please, I don’t wanna die.”

“This was never supposed to happen,” he rambled indignantly. “No no no because I was supposed to protect you because I always protect you, and now this is going so, so fucking wrong.” He felt the oncoming headache that arrived with fresh tears, the snot dribbling down his nose and onto his upper lip, the cold sweat that covered his body head to toe. He wanted to throw up and sob and hold you close and tight and never, never fucking let you go. 

His own heart, as you lay in his arms, was being ripped from his chest. No help was coming, there was no time to heal or press on what was already far too damaged to halt. You were… you were…

“Please,” you wailed, your screams echoing into the forest. He could hear the others shuffling around behind him, their own sobs fading into the mix. “No, please, I don’t wanna die! Steve, please!”

Steve could feel your cheeks getting colder, and he watched as your hands slowly began to unfurl at your sides. “YN, I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me, I can’t-” his own whimper cut himself off. 

“Steve,” you gasped for breath, your voice so small, so weak. “You said you would protect me.” The furrow in your brow smoothed itself out, and your chest began to slow its heaving movements. 

“I know, I know,” he weeped. “I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

“You love me?” you whispered back. Your eyes, that had been locked on his for so long, filled with fear and anguish, shifted away, losing themselves in the black sky above. A small smile broke out on your bloodstained lips. 

“YN?” Steve questioned fearfully, sniveling as he peeled the hair away from your face. 

“I never knew that you loved me, Steve.” A single tear broke loose from your eyelids as you let them droop closed. “I love…” You mouthed the word you before you sighed, your body finally losing all of its tension, its stress—its fear.

Steve let out a quivering breath, his hands cupping your cheeks swiftly. “YN? YN?!”

“Steve.” A hand pressed on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off viciously. 

“YN!” He peeled back your eyelids, blanching at the blank look in your irises. “No, no, come on, I was supposed to protect you!” he cried out hysterically. 

Steve’s body curled over yours like he was collapsing in on himself, mouth mumbling pleas as he slid a hand over your chest, above your heart. 

Nothing.

“Steve!” The hand on his shoulder was more insistent, shaking him back and forth violently. 

No. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not now, not yet.

“Steve, wake up!”

“What?” Steve’s eyes flew open, and his head straightened up from the back of the couch, causing Dustin to yelp and jump back in shock. 

“Jesus, what the fuck?!” the younger boy screeched, leaving Steve wincing and pressing two hands to his ears. 

“Goddamn,” he hissed, “You really need to hit puberty faster; these voice cracks of yours are gonna leave me deaf one of these days.”

“Well it’s not my fault you sleep like a bear in hibernation.”

“Ew, what? That's disgusting, Dustin,” Steve grimaced. 

Dustin facepalmed. “You’re thinking of ‘heat,’ genius, I said ‘hibernation.’”

Steve faltered, nodding absentmindedly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, anyways,” he rolled his eyes, “you better head home.”

“Movie night over already?” Steve dug his palms against his eyes, trying harshly to wipe away the image of—er, that happening to you—from his mind. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin deadpanned, “Princess Leia changed out of her bikini about two hours ago, but I’m glad you were paying attention.”

“Well, look, if it makes you feel any better, the dream I just had was terrible,” Steve groaned, rising up from the coach and grabbing his jacket off the coffee table. 

“Yeah, I heard. Something about ‘oh no’ and ‘don’t leave’ and ‘YN, YN, YN.’” The tween rolled his eyes. “Dude, if you ask me, I’d say just ask her out already, ‘cause your pining from a distance is getting pretty depressing.”

Steve stared at him with pursed lips and blank, dead eyes. 

Then he fondled for his car keys in his jacket pocket and huffed. “Yep, I’m gonna go. See ya around, Henderson.”

“I’m serious, Steve!” Dustin called after him. “It’s getting creepy! Why don’t you just tell her that you’re absolutely whipped for-”

Steve slammed the door of his house, trekking towards his car while grumbling under his breath. “Frickin’ Dustin. I’m not whipped. Nobody,” he slid into the seat of his car, staring into the rearview mirror and adjusting it, “nobody has ever had me…” he paused, staring at his bloodshot eyes, at his tear-stained cheeks. 

“Fuck.” He glanced back at Dustin’s house, its windows still open and flashing with the action of a movie.

Goddammit, Henderson. 

Steve put his car into drive, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, but when he slowed at his usual turn, he slammed the brakes on the car instead and stared at the sign of the intersecting street. 

You lived almost two blocks from there—Steve never realized that. 

He could—no, no he couldn’t. It was the middle of the night, around eleven o’clock according to his dash, so why in the world did he have the right to wake you up for news like that?

It can wait. His feelings can wait.

He said those exact words ten more times as he drove to your house, clumsily throwing it into park alongside the sidewalk in front of your home. He knew which window corresponded with your room, as aside from being the group babysitter and helicopter mother, he was also the chauffeur. 

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut. “This is so dumb; this is a terrible idea. One of the worst, actually.” 

But he picked up the pebble out of your garden and chucked it at your window anyway, pure adrenaline launching the rock at a high speed and making perfect contact with the middle of the glass.

It also left a sizable crack.

“Oh shit,” Steve hissed under his breath, hands flying up to his hair as he saw your light switch on. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The window slid up, and before he knew it, your glare found his form. Your head was leaned outside of the window, hands braced against the sill as you whisper-shouted at him. “Seriously, Steve?! What the fuck?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he jogged closer to your house, questioning scaling the side to climb into your window, but then he noticed your tangled, matted hair and nightshirt. “Yeah, that’s my bad, I, uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sometimes I forget my own strength.” He shrugged lamely. 

You gestured angrily at the window. “How the hell am I supposed to fix this?”

This is going so wrong. Dammit, he knew this wouldn’t go well. 

“YN,” he called out to you, trying to get your attention as you investigated the crack with a sigh. 

“What, genius? Got another grand idea?” you snarked. “Why don’t you go break the locks off my front door too while you're at it-”

“YN, I’m in love with you.”

You choked on your next words, eyes flying open. “What?!”

“I’m just- I’m in love with you, and I really wanted you to know that.”

While he shifts back and forth on his feet, your mouth bobs open and closed. 

“Are you serious?” you finally land on. 

“Don’t call me Shirley?” he offered back lamely, and you dragged a hand down the front of your face. 

Nonetheless, you wore a wide, abashed grin. “You’re a goddamn fool, Steve Harrington.”

Steve shook his head and smiled at that. “Only for you, babe.”

“Now go home and go to sleep so I can kiss you tomorrow, dumbass,” you waved him away. 

A stupid, lovesick smirk took over his face, painting him the absolute dope you always pegged him as. “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He spun around, swallowing a large gulp of air and wondering if you could see the way his hands shook as he unlocked his car. 

“Steve! Wait!”

 He turned back, almost too eager, to see a large blush blooming on your face in the light of your room. “I love you too.”

What a horrible, terrible, shitty-ass, perfectly timed nightmare.

If It Ain’t Broke (Bokuto x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You broke up with Bokuto for a good reason. At least, what you thought was a good reason. But right now you can’t help but miss him terribly, and according to Akaashi, he’s feeling the exact same. But did you really break him like his friend said?

A/N: Did y’all know Bokuto is 6’1”? God, he’s a fucking dreamboat. How some people don’t like his beefy ass, I will never know. I’m just gonna warn y’all now, this is only well-written bc I had my cat by my side literally the whole time I wrote this. He’s given off fuckin’ good-writing vibes, I swear. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2299

        “Fix him.” You flinch as a palm slams down on your desk, crumpling your assignment. Unimpressed, you raise a brow. 

        “Excuse me?” With a glance --- Akaashi --- you huff and turn to face the intruder.

        “Fix him. You broke him.”

        “Broke who?”

        “Bokuto!” Your classmate’s sudden outburst is unlike his usual, aloof self as he throws his hands in the air. “I can’t remember the last time he hit one of my sets after you talked to him.”

        “Maybe that’s not my problem,” you snicker. 

        “Oh hardy har har.” He rolls his eyes before lowering himself to your level. “Just fix him. We have a game coming up and our team can’t handle another depressed Bokuto phase. We almost lost the last one because of him.” 

        You wanted to make another snide comment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. After breaking up with your owl-haired boyfriend, every sighting of him, even the mention of his name pained your heart. One time, you had spotted him at the same time he noticed you in the hall and he only whimpered before sprinting in the opposite direction. Most of the time, you regretted ending things, but you had to respect your own feelings. Although maybe, just maybe this once you could do the boys’ volleyball team a solid. 

        “Fine,” you avoided his gaze and fiddled with your hands. “I’ll talk to him. But don’t expect it to make everything all sunshine and rainbows afterwards!” 

        “C’mon YN,” he smirks at you, “we both know that’ll be inevitable.” 

        That smug bastard was always right.

                                ~~~

        You attended their practice that night, attempting to sit in the corner discreetly but that plan didn’t pan out. The second Bokuto walked through the gym doors it was like he caught a whiff of your scent. Some kind of animal instincts inside of him awakened as his eyes darted around the room, quickly spotting you with your legs splayed out as you tapped away on your phone against the wall. Not a sound of acknowledgement was made, but the impact of your presence was instantaneous. 

        Like a true captain, he took charge of his team right off the bat, even though practice wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes. 

        “Time for stretching, boys!” 

        “Bokuto, nobody’s dressed yet.”

        “Then hurry up!” 

        Every jump was a tad higher, every spike a tad harder, and near the middle of practice Akaashi gave you a pointed look. 

        ‘I told you so,’ he mouthed while dodging a stray volleyball of Bokuto’s. Your middle finger was raring to go, but you held back with much personal restraint. There was no way your ex was this pumped only at the sight of you- oh wait, this is Bokuto. Nevermind. 

        “Akaashi, set me up one more time!” The ace’s eyes strayed to you for a split second before he ran up and jumped, rearing back and spiking the ball so intensely you shivered at the sound. How did it not pop after that? It was his hardest hit yet, and a miniscule ounce of pride warmed your chest when Bokuto turned and grinned at you. 

        “Hey, hey, hey!” he fist-pumped, returning his attention to his team. For the last thirty minutes of practice, they decided to work on serves, and the outcome was just the same. 

        The hair on the back of your neck raised as you watched his bulky form take a couple purposeful steps before smack! The ball whistled through the air and landed perfectly in the corner of the court, blasting the water bottle away like a rocket into a forgotten area of the gym. His signature shout was interrupted by a sudden voice by your side. 

        “He hasn’t been like this in weeks,” Akaashi squatted next to you, taking a sip from his water. “I don’t understand how you got him so hyped up, but I’m glad.” He glances away from the court and watches your face from the corner of his eye, flashing you a small smile. “I’m glad you came today. We needed this.” 

        “I just came to watch, nothing more.”

        “We both know that’s a lie.” He quirks a brow at your slightly flushed face. “Just talk to him this time, okay? He’s not-”

        “Akaashi!” Bokuto orders from the far benches, “Come set for me again!” His voice is more demanding than usual, and his eyes burn with jealousy. The setter only chuckles under his breath at the sight of the green-eyed monster, and stands to face him. 

        “I will,” you grab his hand to halt him and stare into his eyes, nodding with certainty, “I promise. I’ll talk to him.”

        “AKAASHI!” You both jump at the abrupt, irritable shout. Frantically, the setter nods back at you and wriggles his hand out of your grasp before jogging away, visibly shaken. With a gulp, you dare to peek over at the court, only to nervously shift on the floor after making eye contact with Bokuto. His orbs, normally yellow and glowing with excitement, are dark and pouring with envy. Pursing your lips, you can’t help but slump a little lower against the gym wall, hesitantly trying to hide yourself from the palpable heat that rolls off him in waves. 

                                ~~~

        Practice ended quicker and louder than you imagined. Everything the ball made contact with-- Bokuto’s hand, the floor, that one door that flew open after impact-- it all created a sound that boomed and echoed around the room. Akaashi decided to call it quits after the door almost blew off its hinges. 

        Bokuto silently picked up stray volleyballs and loaded them up in the basket before wheeling them into the storage room. It was around this time that the co-captain of the team gave you the signal. With about four or five frenzied head nods towards the private closet, you finally caught his drift and made your way over. 

        The stench of sweat made you nauseous, but you powered through as you walked nearer to the boys, ignoring how their chatter had subsided when you shuffled past them. 

        The room was dark and dusty, with the only light coming from the outside. Bokuto perked up at the sound of your tennis shoes squeaking against the mopped floor. He parks the bucket of balls in an unlit corner next to some brooms before facing you.

        “You came today. I was surprised.” His voice is wobbly and uncertain, and you’re shocked to finally notice just how ruffled he appeared. The normally wild hair atop his head sat in drooping grey and black tufts, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He flashes a small smile at you, but it’s forced and trembling. He was coming off the high of you watching him practice just like the old days, and he’s regretablly remembering that the old days have passed. You broke up with him. 

        “Yeah, I did.” You sway back and forth on your feet while twiddling your thumbs. Pursing your lips, you take a hesitant step closer and say, “I thought you did great, by the way.”

        The life returns to his eyes for a split second, but it disappears just as fast. “Thank you,” he mumbles. The room returns to a deafening silence, and you bite the inside of your cheek to pass the time. 

        “Why,” he pipes up once more, killing the quiet. “Why did we have to break up again?” His arms hang limply at his sides while his feet scuff the floor. He didn’t dare to look you in the eyes at the moment, and you understood the feeling. The atmosphere was tense and choked up, like a glass teetering precariously on the edge of a table. One wrong move and everything would shatter. 

        “Because,” you force out, breathing shakily, “you just… you just never had enough time for me.”

        “But I do now!” The cup falls. Everything breaks. 

        “Do you?” you whimper, pressing a hand against your lips to contain a sob. He steps closer instinctively, eyes watering at the sight of your walls collapsing.

        “I do, I swear!” His rough hands grab your shoulders and yank you closer. His golden orbs search your face one, two, three times before he leans closer. “I promise, YN! Please, I promise!” His strong fingers trail down and grasp your wrists, tugging you into his chest while he pulls your arms around his back, free of their own volition. You don’t deny his needs and melt into the embrace, shedding a few stray tears into his shirt which you clutch tightly.  

        “I promise,” he whispers once more into your hair, wrapping his own muscular arms around your shaky form. “I don’t want to be without you ever again.” His voice trembles against your ear, and you begin to notice just how much your body missed his own. You fit perfectly against his chest, and his warmth makes you feel just right. Your heart races in a good way, and the pit of your stomach fills with a joy only he can provide effortlessly. You were made for each other, and you were perfect for each other. 

        Oh shit… you were perfect for each other. 

        “Okay,” you whisper, nodding into his shirt. “Okay, let’s give it another shot.” The reaction is instantaneous. 

        “Hey, hey, hey!” he whoops victoriously into your ear, hugging just tight enough that the only sound you can muster is a wheeze. You hang on for dear life when he lifts you up and spins you around while cheering even louder.

        The atmosphere of the room grows ten times softer and brighter thanks to his beaming, and his hands trail down to the backs of your thighs and tap twice. You understand and hop with complete faith that he will catch you, and you will continue to do that until he drops you one day, which is highly unlikely. In a seasoned fashion, you wrap your legs around his waist and wind your arms around his neck for stability. He settles his hands under the tips of your thighs and stares up at you like you’re the light of his life. You wouldn’t mind if he kept doing that forever. 

        “I missed you so much,” he admits, completely unashamed. You can’t contain your smile, even though your cheeks are a bit puffy from your breakdown earlier, and your eyes crease at the corners. 

        “I missed you too.” 

        “I won’t leave you alone ever again. I swear!” You giggle and run your hands behind his neck and into his nape, just barely brushing through his hair.

        “Okay,” you nod happily and stroke his peppered tufts. “I’ll hold you to that.”

                                ~~~

        A body crashes into the desk next to yours, but you don’t pay it any mind. 

        “Whatcha doin’?” The voice is playful and overjoyed, ecstatic even. 

        “Homework.” Your response is the opposite. 

        “Awesome!” Bokuto cheers, grabbing the attention of the rest of the class. While you palm your face, he loudly scooches his chair closer, ignorant to the noisy squeaks it causes. The racket finally stops when he deems himself an appropriate distance from you, which just so happens to be a roomy six inches. The only thing more palpable than his presence is the warm breaths hitting your neck. 

        “It’s homework.” 

        “I know, but you’re doing it, so it must be amazing!” You didn’t know whether to smack him silly or kiss his lips off. Neither idea seemed more desirable at the moment.

        He’s practically bouncing in his seat beside you while his head plops down onto your shoulder. 

        “I think x equals six,” he points down on your paper, chin bobbing on your collarbone with every syllable. 

        “X equals two.”

        “Oh.” 

        His grin doesn’t falter even once while he basks in your less-than-satisfied presence. You’re about to blow your top, and you just can’t take it any longer. 

        “What are you doing here, Koutarou?”

        “I’m spending more time with you like you wanted!” You sigh exasperatedly and glance up at the ceiling.

        “Kou, I meant more like after-school stuff! This,” you turn in your seat and gesture to him, “you sneaking into my class to visit while my teacher’s in the bathroom?” You shake your head. “It’s a bit excessive.”

        He throws you a whiny pout at puppy dog eyes.

        “But I wanted to see you!” Your hardened exterior cracks just a bit. God, he was an irresistible, beefy pain in the ass. With a huff, you cup his cheeks and peer into his sparkling eyes.

        “I know,” you smile reassuringly, “I wanted to see you too. But you need to go back before-”

        “Bokuto!” Your teacher stands in the doorway with folded arms and a tapping shoe. “Please return to your classroom right now!” Your boyfriend chuckles at the sight and spins up out of his seat.

        “Oops, gotta go babe!” He presses a swift kiss to your lips that rattles your brain and widens your eyes. With a breathless gasp, you watch as he dashes out of the room with a cheeky grin, waving excitedly on the way.

        “At least he’s fixed now.” Akaashi reclaims his chair and sits at his desk beside yours, observing as the class door closes with a slam. The teacher shakes his head and rubs his temples while returning to the front of the class, shuffling a stack of papers. 

        You, on the other hand, are still in a daze, slowly running your fingers over your lips to revel in the lasting tingles. Then you break out into a smile. 

        “Yeah. He’s fixed now.”

My masterlist is almost maxed out

Just wanted to write some Zuko smut tonight but now I gotta deal with that shit😤😤

I totally agree there needs to be more YANDERE! Daichi and YANDERE! Suga x Reader like ?!?!??! IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES AKDKAJFKSNJFDJ I practically screamed when I realized the plot twist literally went like "GENIUS!!! FUCKING GENIUS"

Afsjhkakdkd sameeeee

I’m just thinking about the cuddles from these bois and they got me kinda ✨funny✨

Nah but really, just imagine when they get jealous.

If it’s soft yandere, you’re just talking to a boy and daichi slips between you and him, making up an excuse or threatening him that if he ever talks to you again, he’ll [REDACTED]. Meanwhile, suga’s just dragging you away with a pout. “I can’t believe you were talking to that boy. What if he tried something on you? We would never forgive ourselves for letting something like that happen.” Daichi comes jogging after you later and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, Sugawara moving accordingly and winding an arm around your waist. They’re almost suffocating with all the heat, but they don’t seem to mind one bit. “Sorry if you don’t like it, baby, but we just get a little jealous when you’re around other guys, that’s all.”

If it’s hard yandere, once again you’re talking to another boy. You’re laughing, he’s laughing, then suddenly your being slammed against the nearest wall with an eyeful of pissed Sugawara. You hear grunts, and with fearful eyes you peer over his shoulder to see daichi slamming his fist against the boy’s jaw, kicking and beating and pounding on the guy in any way possible. Suddenly your chin is tugged back to face Suga head on, reluctantly meeting his furious gaze. “Look what happens when you talk to other boys yn.” Every scream of pain from over his shoulder rips a wave of fear through you, leaving you trembling in his hands. “We get jealous, and you really shouldn’t do that to us, should you?” You don’t respond for a second, and Suga grips your chin bruisingly tight. “Should you?” It hurts, so so bad. Bad enough that you hastily nod and whimper in relief when he releases you. “Good,” his rough hand returns to your body, this time latched onto your wrist. “We’re going home.” With one large yank, you’re stumbling after him, but he stops to call out to his partner in crime. “Daichi.” “Hmm?” “Our dear little yn needs a lesson on not talking to other boys. Obviously, we need to teach her that she’s only ours again. You comin’?” Daichi’s mouth curls into a smirk. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He rises off the boy and steps over to join you, leaving behind what somehow was a body lying in a puddle of blood. His hand was soaked as he captured your own, forcefully intertwining your fingers with his. “Bad girls like you deserve to be punished yn. Don’t try to cry your way out of it this time. Our darling needs to learn the only place she belongs is by our side.”

Henlo 🥺👉🏼👈🏼. I really love your writing, and I was hoping that I could request a hinata soulmate!au. I really loved the other ones. Thank you so much!

Tug of War (Hinata x Reader/Soulmate!au)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You had a nervous habit, and to your soulmate, it was a bit cruel. From time to time, you would occasionally tug on your red string of fate. You never really saw the effects… at least, not until now. “Hinata, are you okay?!”

A/N: Haha, had this one planned out for months but never had the energy to do it. Thanks for giving me that extra push, anon! It’s a little short, but I hope you like it!

Word count: 1614

        The sound of balls whamming into the ground split through your eardrums. 

        Wham!

        “Nice kill!”

        Heavy breathing accompanied the noise, along with the heavy stench of sweat as you wormed your way to the front of the crowd. From the second-level balcony, you had a full view of the court, the benches, and most importantly, the greatest decoy. 

        Though his height was nothing to call home about, something had always drawn you to the little ginger bouncing on the tips of his toes right now. Maybe it was the way he faced every challenge head on, or maybe it was the way he would smile after bounding onto the volleyball court. You weren’t quite sure, and that’s exactly what had you fiddling with the ruby string around your dominant pinkie. 

        “It’s up!”

        It was Karasuno’s first home game. On the other half of the court was a teal and white team, Seijoh-- or… maybe it was Aoba Johsai. You never really knew. 

        All that was for sure was that the group of five or so girls beside you were all cheering for “Oikawa” with squeals like a local pig farm. When you followed their gazes, you weren’t really impressed. Sure, he was handsome, but you guessed redheads had always been more your type. 

        “Nice one, Hinata!” At the name, you leaned over the metal railing and peered down on the court, more attentive now than ever. He had just been switched out, replaced with an even shorter male, which… you weren’t really sure how that was possible. 

        While watching from the player’s box, Hinata drank from a water bottle with haste. You had never been more jealous of plastic in your life. 

        Soon, the whistles blew, and he was switched back into the game. Brown eyes glimmering, he shifted into the front row spot near a taller first year with dark hair. 

        “Watch out for that blocker, dumbass.” 

        “Why do you always call me that?!”

        Their yells didn’t exactly reach that far up into the stands, but thanks to the general air around the two, you figured your lip-reading had been more than accurate. 

        A small smile had settled onto your face as the game moved on, and not once had your fingers stopped twisting and twirling the string. Somehow, the energy of the game had seeped right into your own being, and soon you were biting your lip in anticipation. 

        “Bring it to me!”

        Hinata ran around the setter and jumped, and just when he reared back to spike--

        Tug.

         His body flailed and flew through the air like a fish out of water. The cringe from every person in the room was almost audible as soon as he crashed to the ground, the plastic numbers on the back of his jersey squealing in protest. 

        When he finally stopped sliding, he flinched right as the ball that had been set for him bonked his forehead before dribbling away. 

        For a moment, the entire gym was silent. Some’s mouths were gaped with awe, others had brows raised in concern. Luckily, not a single person saw you, watching your pinkie as though it had whispered the secrets of the universe. 

        “AGAIN?!” Hinata shouted to himself, breaking the silence and wriggling around on his back in frustration. “She’s gotta stop doing that!”

        Oops.

        “Hinata, are you okay?!” His teammates crowd around the fallen spiker in a huddle, concerned looks being served left and right. 

        In mere seconds, your face had shifted from ghostly white to rosy red, and it took you even less time to book it out of there. 

        Bad habit, bad habit!

                                ###

        All throughout your life, you had waited to meet your soulmate. Was he tall? Short? Kind? Mean? What if he didn’t even speak the same language?

        Each day, these questions plagued your mind, and somewhere along the way, your habit had grown. A little twist of the string, a small caress of the soft fabric wrapped around your pinkie, and the occasional tug when you got a little too anxious. Evidently, it was just waiting to come bite you in the ass. 

        Hinata was ruthless now. He’d been yanked out of his chair mid-class, toppled over in the middle of the street or hall, and even missed the bowl once or twice while just trying to relieve himself. All of that, he could handle. 

        Though, apparently last night had been the last straw. What felt like every minute, the string on your hand would jerk you around so forcefully you almost flew right out the classroom window you sat beside. 

        Only once in a while would you let it be obvious enough that the teacher had to ask if you were okay. Your notebook was now covered in hasty chicken scratch, eager to get in a line of notes before the next wrench of the string. Random lines of led littered the page from when he had caught you a moment too soon, but you were trying to adapt. There was a moment in between each jerk, and in those moments, you had true freedom. 

        “In nineteen-thirtysev-... ugh, nineteen-thirtysev- son of a bitch! In nineteen-thirty-- you know what, fuck it. I give up,” you grumbled under your breath, slamming your notebook closed amongst the now-constant tugs of your pinkie. There was really no point in trying now; Hinata had traded in his previous pattern of tug-wait-wait-tug for tug-tug-tug. 

        You didn’t even bother bringing your hand back up to your desk, instead deciding to let it flail around and dangle over the edge of the wooden surface. 

        Sighs of relief fill the classroom as soon as the bell rings, and you snag your backpack off the floor in the nick of time. One large rip of the string has you scrambling out into the hallway, crashing into a locker and trying to stabilize your footing. 

        “Woah, watch it!”

        “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” The student seems to either have a stick up his ass no different than a popsicle or maybe the wave of your nonchalant hand didn’t account for much of an apology. Either way, you didn’t get to stick around for long, because soon your soulmate’s pulling is practically dragging you down the hall, bouncing off the occasional student like bumper cars. 

        “I swear, Kageyama, she’ll be here. Just hold on for a second.” 

        Over the hoards of students stampeding in the opposite direction of you, you hear his voice. While you expected a vengeful snicker, you were pleasantly surprised with a giddy smile. 

        Through the bodies moving slower than midday traffic, you saw Hinata, orange hair bobbing up and down in a school window’s gleam. 

        Bob and weave. Bob and weave.

        When you surface is when you see it. Your soulmate’s not simply pulling you toward him in a conventional way. No, rather, he’s reeling the string around his other hand like he caught a fish.

        “YN?” His movements halt and in true ragdoll fashion, you do as well. 

        “Sup.”

        Hinata, the guy you had been crushing on for your entire first year of high school, was your soulmate. Last night, you could barely go to sleep with all your excitement bubbling through your veins. Your smile had been as large as the moon itself as you wiggled around on your bed, kicking your feet whenever the pent up energy came to be too much. 

        Now? That was a different story. 

        No less had it been a small wave of giddiness, but it was more a wave of pure elation. Endorphins swam around your bloodstream enough to make your head fuzzy, but making eye contact with him hadn’t been the only cause. 

        No, because in seconds, Hinata had covered the distance between you two and tackled you like an ecstatic puppy. You were high on the rush of first touch, high on the rush of finally having him hold you in his arms. 

        “I finally found you,” his voice is muffled by your shoulder and he’s got your school jacket bawled up in two fists. There’s a smile; you can almost feel him trembling against you in euphoria, but he’s not alone. 

        Every nerve ending is set on fire when your arms wrap around him too. Unable to hold back your happiness, you release a small giggle that has him pressing you impossibly closer. 

        “Yeah, you found me.”

        With that, he leans back, lips pursed in uncertainty. 

        “Umm, so do you wanna… like, erm, come watch me practice? I promise I’ll take you out after!”

        Seeing just how nervous he could be almost made you relax on instinct. An easy smile works its way onto your face. “Yeah,” you nod, body still abuzz with the tingles of his touch, “yeah, that sounds good.”

        “Great!” 

        Before you know it, Hinata’s encompassed your hand in his own warm one, leading you all the way out the school and to the second gym with a bored Kageyama on your tail. 

        “You gotta promise me one thing, though, before we go in there, YN.”

        “Sure, what’s up?”

        “Swear you won’t tug on the red string, okay? You have a terrible habit, and it always messes me up when I play!”