Tending To Their Wounds

Random Emotional Things the Haikyuu Boys Have Said

+ genre. sfw

+ warnings. none

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

You weren’t even doing anything remotely special when Kuroo said this to you, catching you by surprise and nearly making you fall of of your chair. Even with you messy hair and pajama pants on, Kuroo couldn’t help but think, ‘Yep, that’s going to be all mine one day.’

“You’d look so pretty carrying our baby.”

You and Bokuto were out sundress shopping of all things whenever he dropped this on you, a small smile on his face. You had just come out of the dressing room to show him your pick and a pregnant woman had just so happened to walk by, prompting your boyfriend to say this in the softest tone you’d ever heard him speak.

“Please don’t ever leave me, I don’t think I could ever handle losing you.”

It was after a game. MSBY had won, but for some reason Atsumu had rushed to you, tears in his eyes and hugged you tighter than he ever had before. It took you off gaurd because usually your boyfriend was so happy and hyped after winning. But that day, he spent minutes sobbing into your shoulder, even while fans and teammates surrounded him with congratulations.

“You don’t know just how deep my love runs for you. I would fucking do anything for you.”

He thought you were asleep. You knew that, because that’s the only way Suna would ever express something so deep and so personal towards you. He was stroking your back, quiet sniffles leaving him as he kissed your hair. And that night, he held you tighter than he ever had before and it took everything in you not to burst out crying as he nuzzled into your shoulder.

11:42 PM. KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

his first words after six months aren’t ‘can i come in?’ when he shows up to your doorstep unannounced. it thunders behind him, pouring rain with a vengeance only seen on movie screens. each strike of lightning lights flashes bright white against his features, illuminating already startling crimson eyes.

he looks like he hasn’t slept in months. ash blond hair matted to his forehead, dark circles hanging like stalactites—never have you seen him in a state like this, and it makes you want to shrink away, back into the comfort of your home.

you stay out anyway, and the cold nips at your socked feet almost playfully.

“why are you here?” your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he pauses, mouth open with a retort already dying on his tongue. what was he doing here? interrupting your peace away from his torment filled life with selfish wants?

how does he tell you that he hasn’t had a good night’s rest since that massive argument six months ago? that he shouldn’t have nitpicked and snapped at you because his mission failing wasn’t your fault—you were just there and suffered the brunt of his anger in your attempt to help.

how does he tell you his misses the way your hands would run through his hair, slow and practiced, as the dust and dirt from the day’s work washes down the drain? that he misses your silly songs made up from a tune he’d gotten stuck in his head, and that he can’t bear to clean up because the very thought of doing the most mundane things without you sends an unfathomable amount of ache to his chest?

that he misses having the weight of you, skin against skin, at night, where he could be just katsuki?

he can’t say any that. he can’t do that to you. you look well—better, even, after six months. your voice is soft when you ask, not even the slightest bit of hatred present at all, and he almost wants to disappear. regret courses through his veins, but he can’t find it within himself to move.

slowly, his gaze meets your once more, hands shoved into his pockets, and he lays out the barest contents of his heart then.

“i didn’t know where else to go.”

reblog are appreciated ☕️ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

haikyuu feeling clingy after work and y/n not being home

featuring: miya atsumu, kozume kenma, bokuto koutarou, and tsukishima kei

warnings: none, sfw, bad pet names, perhaps too fluffy

haikyuu x g/n reader

a/n: tumblr really tried its hardest to make the formatting on this post as difficult as possible

masterlist

part 2 with iwaizumi hajime, terushima yuji, akaashi keiji, and sakusa kiyoomi

part 3 with daichi sawamura, kageyama tobio, kita shinsuke, and oikawa tooru

part 4 with suna rintarou, kyoutani kentarou, and kuroo tetsurou

thank you for reading <3

"are you feeling good now cutie?" he asked while brushing your hair softly.

"mmhm," you lift your head from suna's chest and gave him a smile half mouthed.

"i told you before and i will told you again. please," suna put his palm on your cheek when you were about to lower your head.

"don't bottle up your emotions. don't hide yourself from me. whatever you are feeling; angry, sad, happy, depressed. tell them to me so you won't get crushed under those feelings."

as if you weren't emotional enough, his words made your eyes teary. staring at him deeply made your heart ache as well. not because anything bad, just his lovingly caring eyes.

"oh god, don't cry again." he said laughingly. but you couldn't stop yourself and when your lips wobbled suna pulled you into his arms.

embracing his body tightly, you put your face in his neck and kissed him there before letting your tears to fall. there was a feeling on your chest heavy yet light. loving him was making your heart heavy but it was the best feeling ever. i couldn't reflect here well but yk you just love someone sm that your chest hurts idk weird

suna started to stroke your hair while you were enjoy being in his presence.

"i love you." you said after putting your palm on his cheek.

"i love you too." suna said letting his head fall on your head. even if it was just toward evening, both of you were sleepy.

before him not falling asleep properly you raised your head from his neck and pulled his head softly to yourself to give his cheek a tender kiss.

"sweet dreams."

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

Am I Nothing to You?

Haikyuu - Akaashi Keiji

Imagine Y/n getting into an accident that she had to be hospitalized, but it just happened to be when Akaashi was out of town due to work. I feel like these type of situation is when you get to see Akaashi not composed. You get to see Akaashi breaking down.

When this happens, Y/n will debate whether or not she should contact and inform Akaashi about her situation, but she decided to go against it since she didn't want to bother him. Also, it wasn't like she was dying, she should be released soon. She thought it wasn't a big deal.

However, her being silent doesn't mean that Akaashi won't be informed of her situation. She forgot about that part that she was shock when her door opened with a loud bang, revealing Akaashi who was out of breath.

"Keiji...?" Y/n called out his name in shock. "What are you doing here? How about work? How did you know I was here?"

When Akaashi looked up, Y/n bit her lips and looked away from him. She saw how he was at the verge of breaking down. She didn't mean to cause him any worries. She felt fine, so she didn't contact him, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"Why...?" Akaashi mumbled as he approached her.

When y/n looked at him hesitantly, he kneeled beside her bed and held her hands tightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't really form any words as she didn't know what to say exactly. Should she be honest? Or should she apologize first?

At her hesitation, Akaashi's grip tightened. "Am I that unreliable? Am I nothing to you?"

"No, of course not!" Y/n said in a hurry. "I... I just... I'm sorry..."

At her apology, Akaashi let out a shaky breath before speaking. "Please... Do you know how I felt when I heard from someone else that you were in an accident? The fact that I wasn't there for you as soon as you woke up, it just broke my heart..."

"I'm sorry, Keiji..." Y/n said in a low voice. "I just didn't want to bother you since you were out of town and I felt fine, so I thought it wasn't significant."

"Everything about you is significant... So please, don't keep these things from me. Tell me..." Akaashi said with pleading voice. "I want to be there for you. To be able to support you, to be someone you can rely on. I want to be your pillar."

Y/n felt her eyes turning teary at his words as she nodded. At her actions, Akaashi sighed in relief before hugging her tightly.

But I feel like this somewhat might have traumatized Akaashi that he developed the habit to video call rather than messaging her since she can just lie through text. But he will still message her even more frequently to check up on her and tries not to go out of town, making sure he was beside her. At the same time, I feel like he will take care of her even more than he used to, keeping a hawk eye on her.

we will never be apart

diluc ragnvindr x reader | 1.8k + words

warnings: angst/comfort, mentions of blood/injuries, no pronouns used, ahh if i'm forgetting anything else just tell me

the howling of the wind as the front doors of the winery swing open violently, followed by a thud much too loud and heavy to be footsteps, draws you from your book and has you rushing from  the master bedroom and into the dark hallway, the pages of the novel left askew on the sheets in your abrupt departure.  

frigid air from outside makes the manor even colder than it normally is this time of night and your thin short silky pajamas weren’t doing much to help keep you warm but you didn’t have time to think about how cold you might get or throw on a robe, not when your worst fears were already churning uncomfortably in your stomach. they only grew worse when you looked over the banister to see diluc on his knees at the threshold of your home. it’s too dark to make out much but there’s no mistaking the long, fiery, mane of hair that flows towards the ground in his slumped over state. 

you can’t speak or call out to him. everything feels caught in your throat and you worry if you speak you may choke on the words but adrenaline and a racing heart move your feet as quickly as they can down the grand staircase. as you get closer you see one hand keeping his body from meeting the cold hardwood and the other gripping at his side desperately. bright red bangs cover his face but you can hear how hard he’s breathing, see in the dim moonlight coming through the open door the deep breaths he fights to take with every rise and fall of his back. 

a strong gust of wind rattles the doors and quickly you close and lock them, not wasting another moment to make your way to dilucs side and reach out for him with shaking hands. you swear all you can hear is the beating of your heart in your ears as you help him sit up, bringing his arm around your shoulders and with all the strength you can muster, help him stand up while supporting most of his weight. something wet and warm begins to seep into your night dress and stain your skin beneath, the smell of copper becoming more potent the more his blood stains your clothes. 

the only thing that breaks through the sound of your panicked heart is his strained voice calling your name. the way it sounds makes the tears you didn’t know were welling up in your eyes fall down your cheeks without permission. 

“y/n.. i..” he grunts when you tighten your arm around him and begin to make your way up the stairs. he’s so heavy; barely able to walk, his heavy boots dragging against the cold hardwood with every step you take, hardly able to use his hand to help him up the railing. it’s up to you, and the strength you worry would break at any moment, to help get him up along with his stumbling steps. 

“don’t speak. save your strength.” you reply, your voice is uneasy as the hands that are holding onto him, that are dripping with his blood. but no matter how hard you cried, no matter how the anxiousness in your stomach made you nauseous along with the terrible coppery smell, you had to keep moving, had to let it bubble over without control because right now your only focus was being sure diluc was okay. he had to be. what.. what would you do without him.. if he died in your arms- 

you have to stop your racing thoughts before they consume you. almost to the bathroom. it will be okay. it has to be okay.

it’s not the first time diluc has come home injured and you had to bandage him up, you’d say by now you’ve gotten quite good at it, but it’s never been this bad, never been this scary. there was no staff here at this hour, no one to call for a healer unless you wanted to leave diluc alone to do so by yourself but you aren’t sure you could stomach to leave his side in this state. 

normally diluc would sit quietly at the edge of the tub with a stern expression, his eyes not meeting yours as you cleaned and wrapped his wounds but tonight he can barely lean against the side of the tub as he tries to take off his coat and vest. your hands stop his own, trembling fingers peeling off the dirty and stained fabric until he’s left bare chested and he’s laying against the tile flooring, head resting against a towel. this time it’s your eyes that don’t meet his, even though the ruby orbs you love can't focus on anything but your distressed visage. 

he calls your name but you don’t reply. using his teeth to tear off his glove, it comes into your peripherals, gently resting on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that continue falling from your eyes. he hadn’t meant to worry you, hadn’t meant to use all of his strength after getting injured and stumble home only to barely make it through the door. the bloodied pajamas you wear, the shakiness of your hands and the worry in your crying eyes makes his heart ache far worse than the wound you’re attending to. he’d be okay, as long as he could ease your worry, stop your tears, he was sure of that. he’s suffered far worse but the reassuring words he speaks to try to tell you as much never seem to make it to you.

you don’t hear his voice, can barely register the hand that holds your face and wipes your tears. how could you when you can’t focus on anything but the injury at his side that slows how badly it’s bleeding as you apply pressure and a salve adelinde made for situations just like this. it wasn't meant to patch up wounds for good but as it foams against the gash it stops the bleeding and hopefully numb the pain. the crimson splotches are so bright against his porcelain skin and as the salve works its magic you continue checking the rest of him, cleaning every small cut you can find before coming back to gash on his side. 

his body flexes under your hands when he attempts to sit up, using all of the strength he has left to come closer to you, to comfort you. “wait! don’t get u-” you’re interrupted by a finger under your chin pulling your face from his toned stomach and to his soft eyes instead. normally you’d expect him to be mad that he’s hurt but tonight there’s no anger or irritation in his expression, he’s worried for you far more than he is himself.

“it’s okay y/n,” he speaks, his tone calm and reassuring. finally you hear his voice. diluc has never been very good at words of comfort but for you, if it meant your tears would dry and the smile he loves would return, he would always try. “it looks far worse than it feels. please, don’t waste your tears for my sake.” 

you bite your bottom lip, an attempt to stop yourself from crying more because you know you needed to be strong for him but it doesn’t work out the way you wish it to, if anything you’d say it's making it a little worse. your tears seem unstoppable as ever. using the back of your hand you wipe away the growing wetness on your cheek. “h- how could i not when you’re hurt?” 

his touch on your chin is beyond gentle, radiating with warmth and it only grows warmer when he caresses your jaw before the tips of his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you can’t help but lean into it his touch, closing your eyes in hopes you could now calm down and not think about why you’re kneeling on the cold tile in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, covered in a color you normally couldn't get enough of but right now is making your whole body burn almost unbearably. 

“i’ll be alright,” dilucs words are as tender as his touch and full of sincerity. “it wasn’t my intention to worry you-.”

“but diluc-”

suddenly and softly his forehead finds solace on yours and you find, as you often do with diluc, his touch steals your breath away. the smell of his shampoo and the mint on his breath invades your senses- making you forget about the scent you couldn’t stand before. 

“i wouldn’t be dishonest with you, my love. please trust me when i say i’m alright,” his breath fans against your cheeks. strong, calloused hand finding its way even deeper into your hair with every word he speaks, until he is protectively holding the back of your head. “i will always be okay as long as you’re by my side… but i will be more careful in the future so you don’t have to worry like this again.”

“i always worry for you ‘luc,” you whisper, the last of your tears flowing down your cheeks and onto his scar ridden chest. you want so badly to wrap your arms around him and hold him against you but you don’t dare further hurt his wounds. instead your hands find his muscular arms and hope to relieve some of the stress he’s putting on his body by comforting you like this as you cling to him.

“i know,” he replies before attempting to hide a grunt of pain. your worry of hurting him makes you want to pull away when you hear the pained sound and you try to cautiously but he holds you steady against him, not letting your foreheads part. how did he have such incredible strength? “i am beyond thankful for that, and for you. i don’t know what i would do without you.”

“the feeling is the same,” you sob quietly, the tears you had just stopped starting to come back no matter how much you will them not to. “i.. i thought-”

“i have no intentions of ever leaving you y/n,” his hand in your hair tightens and the air in the bathroom grows warmer and warmer with every word of love he speaks. “i swear it. more than anything else in this life, i am yours and we will never be apart.”

“diluc.. i.. i love you so much.”

“i love you too, more than you know.”

the numbing agent slowly starts to ease dilucs pain while his words ease your own aching heart and though tears still fall from your eyes, your lips curl into a loving smile that matches his own. the bathroom is silent as you bask in each other's love while you finish bandaging him up and in the comfort of knowing things truly would be okay. 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[Shoto Todoroki x Sick!Reader]~Princess

A/n-As Requested by @astralmysteria, this is Todoroki taking care of his s/o who is sick. To backtrack, you have been in serious heat frustration with this unbreakable fever. No matter what you did you couldn’t get it to break.

You felt miserable, you were sitting in your dorm room under a very very thin sheet to try and keep your body from getting any hotter. Seems that there’s a sickness going around U.A, and you were the next lucky victim to fall ill. According to your friends Mina and Uraraka, it was apparently Aizawa who had started this unfortunate chain of events. You must admit, you were very surprised when you found out this news and that’s only because Aizawa always looked so tired that you never would have figured out he was sick. Very unethically smart you thought. 

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday as you coughed up your lungs for the time you could no longer count. You felt bad missing valuable training time and academic classes; you knew you were gonna be behind the longer you missed. All your friends knew you were sick, your teachers knew you were sick, but Todoroki didn’t…You knew it was wrong to keep something as important as your health from your own boyfriend, but you didn’t want to waste his time taking care of you when he could become a pro-hero someday. In order to do that, he had to live up to his fathers expectations even if you were against that whole idea. 

For the last 2 painful nights you had been bedridden and trying the best you could to fall asleep. The extreme heat given off by the fever was enabling you from doing that. It was more than just a fever however. There was also your standard cold symptoms which projected worse than a normal cold. That was because of your mind-reading quirk. The downside of this quirk was major headaches and heavy-hitting symptoms when you got sick. You rarely got sick but this is what happens when you did. 

You laid on the side of the bed under the thin sheet you were covered with. As you laid there with the most painful headache ever, you hear a soft voice at your door, fallowed by a soft knock. You didn’t say a word. 

“When were you gonna tell me that you weren’t feeling well?” That voice belonged to your boyfriend, none other than Shoto Todoroki. 

“Hmmm, how’d you find out?” You groaned, not making eye contact with him. 

“I got suspicious after you didn’t show up for 2 days, and Mina wasn’t so quiet..” he giggled softly. 

“Sorry, you have more important things to do than watch your s/o be sick” you coughed, feeling a pulse from your smashing headache. 

“Don’ say that, you’re important to me and I love you very much” he smiled, walking towards your bed with a grocery bag. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden, so I didn’t tell you” your voice quivered. 

“You are never a burden, I know I like doing things alone, but I love you” he said, sitting on the bed beside you. His hand resting on yours. 

“Okay..” you croaked, looking at your boyfriend with sleep-deprived eyes. 

When Shoto looked at your weak and fragile body, he set the bag on the floor and climbed in bed with you. “Move over” he whispered. 

“Shoto?…” you questioned, feeling burning in your eyes. 

“You’re burning up, how long have you had a fever?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your very heated body. 

“Counting today…3″ you paused, with a heavy sigh. 

“3 days???” Shoto said, with a shocked expression. Worry soon spread throughout his face. 

As Shoto’s arms remained tightly around your body, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief and safety as his presence soothed the painful feelings you felt. To make things better, Shoto began rubbing your back and massaging your head. He could tell you had a headache and wanted to do anything for the person he loved. As you were starting to fall asleep, you could feel a cold sensation spread around you. 

“I’m using the cold side of my quirk to lower your fever, you should of told me sooner but I’m not mad” you heard Todoroki whisper, knowing you were about to fall asleep. 

“Thanks for everything, I appreciate it” you managed to say, in between a yawn. 

“You’re my princess for a reason, I will always love you till the end of time” Todoroki said, planting a soft kiss on your already cooler forehead. 

[4:03 am] - IWAIZUMI

Someone’s knocking on the door at an obnoxiously fast pace. It rings in your ears as your eyelids crack open. You twist in your sheets to check the time on your phone.

4:03 am.

Your eyebrows knit together in annoyance as you stuff your face in a pillow, deciding to ignore the knocking.

A couple of minutes go by.

It doesn’t stop.

Sitting up in your bed, you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you stumble out of your sheets and shuffle towards the door.

Sleep and tiredness still lingered in thoughts as you looked into the peephole.

A sharp breath of air enters your lungs, you’re wide awake now.

A familiar ache began to return to your chest and you’re unsure if your heart’s heavy with dread or hope. You stare at the closed door in front of you, the knocking has stopped but you didn’t need to check to know that he was still there.

With shaky hands, you reach for the door handle and slowly turn it open. The harsh glow emitting from the white lights in the lobby made you wince as your vision readjusted itself.

He’s standing before you, taller, more defined and skin tanner than you remembered.

You gulp thickly, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. It’s been a little bit over a year since iwaizumi left you for California, leaving you to pick up the remnants of your broken heart, alone. You can’t exactly trace back to when his love for you began to lag behind his love for volleyball.

Nevertheless, you had supported him. Excusing missed dinner after dinner, excusing the lack of ‘i love yous’ and goodnight kisses and excusing the empty space in your bed. You had supported him until you simply couldn’t anymore. The night you had finally announced your grievances was the night he announced that he would be leaving for California and the night he walked out of your door with a tear-stained face.

One year later and here he is again, fists clenched to his sides and chest tight as if he’s holding his breath. You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it.

“It wasn’t worth it,”

You blink and a couple of beats pass in silence so he continues as if to fill in the blanks.

“California,” he pauses, “it wasn’t worth it,”

Your eyebrows knit together as a result of multiple emotions, primarily anger and confusion.

“What?” it comes out on edge and he winces slightly.

He visibly takes in a deep breath and there’s a slight tremble in his lower lip, “California wasn’t worth leaving you,”

There’s a pause, “volleyball wasn’t worth leaving you.”

Your eyes blow wide and a lump begins to build its way up your throat. The feeling of an old wound reopening consumes you.

You want to ask why but your voice fails you.

You want to ask so many questions but your voice fails you.

Your breathing stutters, he notices as you grit your teeth. You shift your gaze from the floor to him and he visibly swallows.

The look you give him is a pained one. A mix of anger and hurt.

“Why now?” you pause, “why after all this time?”

He doesn’t answer your question though, “I never stopped loving you,”

Your heart drops to your stomach at the time wasted wallowing in heartbreak, at the time wasted sobbing in your bed and at the time wasted missing him.

You bury the face in your hands, “stop,” you whisper and it makes his heart twist horribly in his chest.

He tentatively reaches for the hands hiding your face and gently moves them away.

You let him.

His eyes are glassy when you look at him and that’s when you notice the backpack resting by his feet. He answers your question for you.

“I came here straight from the airport,” he whispers sheepishly.

You blink, “why did you come back?”

Your heartbeat accelerates as the words leave your tongue and as he responds, he looks at ease as if a weight was released off of his shoulders.

“For you,”

Your eyes begin to turn glassy as you nibble at your lower lip, a part of you wants to tell him to get out, to go back to California and spare you the heartache but the wiser part of you knows that deep down that isn’t what you want.

His eyes are soft as he looks at you. Glassy, tired but soft and there’s a familiar glint in his eye.

A glint that meant taking you to brunch and feathering you with kisses, a glint you never thought you’d see again. A glint that meant ‘i love you’.

So you decide to take a leap of faith and move a step closer and so does he.

It’s 4 am in the morning, the sun isn’t out yet and your neighbours are asleep. You have work in a couple of hours and you’re in a crinkled shirt that plops over your entire figure. You’re sure you look like a disaster, hair all over the place but iwaizumi doesn’t seem to care as you pull him in by the collar of his shirt, pressing his lips against yours.

“I never stopped loving you either.”

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