Alright, I Just Read The Red String Of Somethingness And I Rlly Like It. But I'd Like To Ask (humbly)

Would you be interested in writing about something with Garou and a werewolf?

definitely depends on the prompt/idea, but i'd for sure consider it. My only concern is that w Garou i like using a reader without powers bc writing as though the reader is on even ground w Garou power-wise feels unrealistic and a little unappealing for me. I've done it once before, but now that the manga has moved on to show he's turning into a really powerful character, i'd hate to start dropping mary sues all over the place

if the idea of a possessive werewolf!garou x innocent human!reader aint the hottest thing i've heard of in a while tho👀

Can you do Shoto, Bakugou, Tokoyami, Tomura and Dabi learning their s/o was born with a heart condition but it doesn't stop them from fighting (eg. I was born with an irregular heartbeat so I'm stuck with it for life and I always have to let the doctors know say I was to need to be asleep for something a special doctor 100% has to be in the room to make sure I don't die even if the work is something small and simple)

S/O Born with a Heart Condition (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: This is my first attempt at headcanons, so they might be too small or too large (or too shitty), idk (I also haven’t watched bnha long enough to meet Dabi’s character so :/). Thank you so much for the request, and I truly hope you like it! I tried to make it as accurate as possible to what I could find online, so I hope it works for you. Enjoy!

Word count: 1494

Todoroki Shouto:

If Todoroki wasn’t attached before, he sure is now. 

This man doesn’t hesitate to cater to your every need, and always supports you when you want to do something out of your comfort zone. 

That doesn’t mean he ever leaves your side for more than 20 minutes at a time, though. 

He’s grown attached to you in a way he never thought he could, and hates to see you do something dangerous without his or a doctor’s supervision. 

If you want to work out or something, he’s hesitant at first, but allows you to do so with his constant warnings not to hurt yourself and take it easy. 

He’s always willing to cuddle and comfort you if your chest begins to hurt, and slowly spoons you while massaging your stomach. (His warm hand is a dream.)

You’re still growing used to having doctors watch you almost 24/7, and when you confess this to Todoroki, he hugs you tightly and whispers that he will only stay by your side when you feel up to it.

Of course you feel up to it. This man may have part-cold powers, but he’s still hot as hell. 

You always feel more comfortable with him in the room, and Todoroki is always glad to be around you, taking as much comfort in your presence as you do with him. 

Bakugou Katsuki: 

When Bakugou learned you had a heart condition, he wouldn’t let anyone near you, treating you like a glass doll. (He barely keeps it together when your doctors come around.)

Every time one of his friends would get a little too close, he would start to growl.

If someone bumped into you in the halls, you best believe he blows up on their ass, even if it’s one of his closest friends.

“WHAT WAS YOUR DUMBASS THINKING RUNNING INTO HER LIKE THAT?! I’M GONNA EXPLODE YOUR ASS INTO THE NEXT CENTURY!”

Ten more minutes pass of him screaming at that person, and at some point you have to poke him in the side to get his attention. After that, he goes Mama bear mode.

Yes, even Bakugou has that setting.

He grabs your shoulders with concern written all over his face. “What? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor or something? SOMEONE CALL THE NURS-”

You gotta smack him across the forehead just to get him to shut up. (It resets his brain a lil bit.)

Overall, even though his friends tease him about it, he’s still fiercely protective over you, and no one aside from him is allowed in your ten-foot radius personal bubble. 

You hated how he treated you like a baby, always grabbing your arms to stop them before he snatched the item off the top shelf for you, or any other acts that he does for you that piss you off so much.

Like a pit bull on a leash, he barked and snapped at anyone you passed on the street as his hand gripped your own tightly. 

He was your little guard dog, your furious, explosive protector, and although you often argued about how you could handle yourself, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Tokoyami Fumikage:

You already know this man perches in the corner of your room at night. 

Although he trusts your doctors, he still wants to make sure you’re okay while you sleep. 

There’s a desk in the corner of your room, and he just squats down on top of it like nobody’s business, keeping a watchful eye on your every move. 

The first time he did it, it kinda freaked you out.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like Batman-”

“Go to sleep.”

From then on, you let him just watch as you slept, used to having eyes on you as you do. 

Occasionally, Dark Shadow creeps out in your dim bedroom and pets your hair gently, with constant warning from Tokoyami to be careful around you. 

As your relationship grew stronger, you would find him sitting closer and closer to you every night. 

(He scared the shit out of you one day when you awoke to find him crouched on your nightstand.)

Then, one night you stirred to him cuddling you in your sleep. You asked him what he was doing once again.

“I keep watch much better from this vantage point.”

You always ran a hand through his feathers while Dark Shadow’s presence slowly curled around you, and rarely found yourself falling asleep just as easy without him after a certain point. 

Tokoyami watches you like a hawk, and always keeps you on your pills if you take them. He’s a dutiful boyfriend, who never hesitates in making you feel comfortable and loved, day or night. 

Shigaraki Tomura: 

HAND MAN, HAND MAN

Let’s be honest here. We’re talking about a villain. We all know this mf kidnapped you. 

He fell for you first, of course, and was initially confused by your constant doctor companions. He just didn’t like how close they got to be around you, when he had to stay so far away.

He overheard your condition, and by then he had loved you too much to let you suffer, so he snatched up a doctor to take care of you in the villain’s lair as well. 

After a year of patiently waiting, he finally wore you down enough to have you love him. 

By then, he didn’t even have to request you stay in his line of sight at all times. You did so willingly. 

Whenever you wanted to go outside and go shopping or whatnot, he always held your hand to do so. With your doctor near of course.

He just couldn’t risk losing you, no matter how much you whined that you would be fine. 

He’s just as hesitant to cuddle or touch you, but still craves hugs from time to time. Nighttime snuggles are a rare occurrence.

When they do happen, he’s a bit bitter they can’t lead on farther thanks to the unwanted audience in the room.

He definitely lays his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

“Still tickin’!”

In the end, Shigaraki embraces your condition with stride, and does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and alive.... In his home…. And in his bed ;)

Dabi: 

When Dabi learns you have a heart condition, he becomes ten times more alert around you. 

If you stub your toe, he’s by your side in an instant, shouting about how you have to be careful.

If you bake a cake, he watches over your shoulder to make sure you don’t hurt yourself with any kitchen utensils used. You know, like a whisk.

“What if your finger gets caught and you panic and die on me?!”

Fight me on this, but blue fire boy’s attitude would flip a 180. 

Out of all these guys, he’s the one who’s gonna watch over you the most, acting like a self-taught doctor. 

You can’t do anything without his approval. 

One time he came home to you accidentally taking a nap on the couch. 

… *sigh*

Yeah. Dabi flipped his shit. 

“DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE MY SIGHT EVER AGAIN YN!”

“I was just-”

“NO!”

You’re the only love in his life, and he doesn’t know what he would do if he lost you. 

(Two words. Fire. Rampage.)

Just… be careful. Dabi is the last guy you want to piss off. Of course, he could never be truly mad at you, but you sure know how to push his buttons. 

He, um, he typed up a list of things you could do without his supervision. 

It’s two bullet points long.

1. Go to the bathroom.

2. That’s it.

Dabi can’t remember a time he was as attached to someone as he is to you, so when you throw your fits about wanting to do something on your own, he listens just about as well as a student in an online class. 

“Mhm, sure.”

He just doesn’t wanna lose you, so from now on, try to stay away from doing just about anything until he’s around to witness it. 

aSiDe FrOm gOiNg tO tHe bAtHrOoM oF cOuRsE

Hey i rlly liked your Reborn series and i wanna asl is it too late to be added to the taglist? You're writting is rlly good i wanna read more of ur work so ill be going thru ur masterlist hehe

Heccc no my dude, I’ll totally add u to the list! Not even kidding, I’m super excited to jump back into writing now that it’s Christmas break😌😌

Ps: new chapter IS coming out on Christmas y’all!! Let’s hope writing chapters for reborn is like riding a bike😬

Misleading Marks (Iwaizumi x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Your soulmark is a wonderfully misleading pain in the tuchus. Luckily, your hunk of a soulmate makes it all worth it. 

A/N: Started off rough, but I swear the ending is better. Love me some good old soulmate aus. Enjoy!

Word count: 1803

        When your soulmark first popped up on your wrist, you adored its simplicity. It had come to you on the morning of your fifteenth birthday, and you couldn’t help but admire it the whole day. Even through school, your teachers had eventually given up on gathering your attention. You were otherwise occupied with worshiping the blatant statement on your wrist. “Hi, my name is Oikawa,” it read, and you kept rubbing your thumb over it, eventually developing a nervous habit from the act. You couldn’t help it; it was comforting. Knowing someone was out there, perfect for you. And easily detectable thanks to their words. You felt blessed.

       That mindset on your soulmark didn’t last long. Soon, you attended Karasuno High School and made new friends. Friends who had more exciting soulmarks. For example, Kiyoko had the cheesy pickup line “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” inscribed on the inside of her forearm. While she found it less than satisfactory and often cursed fate for giving her a pervert for a soulmate, you thought it was rather endearing. The person meant for her seemed playful and fun, and you begin to think of your own soulmate differently. Insecurities began to run through your mind more and more every day. Even Sugawara, another friend of yours, had a cute phrase. “Do you have candles for all that cake?” Adorable. A little straightforward, but you liked it nonetheless.

       Just to be clear, you adored your friends, and you were happy they had gotten such fun soulmates. But to be honest, their marks made you jealous, and at times you would stare at your own and wonder if you were destined for simplicity like that for the rest of your life. It was, after all, your soulmate’s first words to you. But before you could judge, you wanted to meet him. Oikawa, your apparent soulmate. 

                               ~~~

       It was your third year of high school before you ever heard his name aloud. While helping Kiyoko manage a practice volleyball game at Aoba Johsai, you finally heard the name you had been waiting for for three years. 

       “Oikawa, so glad you’re back, you pain in the ass. Now come out here and set for us!” The spikey-haired ace of the opposing team demanded with admittedly attractive folded arms. 

       “You’re so mean, Iwaizumi! Can’t you take it a little easy on me? I am injured, after all,” the brunet whined. The rest of the argument faded away as you dazed off in wonder. At first, your eyes were still stuck on the ace, but you began to feel guilty and pulled them away to stare at the newcomer. At your soulmate. He was hot so was that “Iwaizumi”, tall, and playful, many traits you admired in a guy. But he just seemed… disappointing for some reason. He seemed wrong. You chalked it up to your past predictions of him being lame. After all, you couldn’t let feelings like those get in your way. You were closer than ever to meeting the man on your wrist; Kiyoko had even given you a pointed look, which you had shaken off. Meeting with him would have to wait till after the game. 

                               ~~~

       Whelp, the game had ended fairly quickly, but damn did Oikawa have an arm. It was like a rocket, and you couldn’t help but compare it to the ace’s on his own team. You know, for strength-wise comparison’s sake, totally not anything else. Totally. Anyways, after the teams thanked each other and you helped Kiyoko clean up the stray water bottles, you asked her for advice on how to talk to him. 

       “Just go do it,” she shrugged, her voice flat and matter-of-fact-like. When you had first met her, the emotionless she seemed to have irked you at first. Now that you had known her for years and become her best friend, however, you knew she cared deep down. Her tone when she spoke just never showed it, and you were finally used to it. What you were not okay with, now, was her terrible advice.

       “Seriously? That’s it, that’s all you got? ‘Just go do it’? Dude, you’re killing me here.” She sent you a withering glare at your whining and you froze at the sight. Oh right, she was friggin’ terrifying at times, too. 

       “It’s now or never, YN.” Okay, that one got to you. She was right, this could be your last chance, or your first meeting with your soulmate. Only you could decide. Flashing her a grateful smile, you rushed out a “thank you” before jogging to the other bench on the court where he was packing up equipment as well. 

       “H-hey, um, I’m YN,” you stammered and bit your lip bitterly at the embarrassing first words he definitely had on his body now.

       With an arrogant glint in his eyes, he smiled back charmingly at you and smoothly replied, “Nice to meet you. I’m Oikawa.” Uh oh. Those aren’t the right words. Now you have an itty bitty problem. 

       “Oh.” That’s all you could manage to sputter.

       “Oh?” he questioned cheekily, taking a step toward you. You stumbled back at his advancement while laughing nervously. Visibly confused at your reaction, Oikawa furrowed his brows while he halted himself in place a foot or two away from you. 

       Finally having enough breathing room, you shake your head to clear it. An action which you soon come to regret as you seemed to have lost your filter in the process. You question him thoughtlessly, “Do you have any siblings?” Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to take offense. Oikawa was smarter than he looked, as he caught on quickly. 

       “Not any that don’t already have soulmates,” he answered pityingly, eyes softening at the words on your wrist. 

       Swiftly, you tug your mark behind your back and wave your other hand dismissively. “That’s okay. Umm I have to go now, bye.” Without another word, you hustle out of the room and out to the bus waiting to return to Karasuno, not actually sad but more frustrated at the sympathetic eyes that trailed after you.

Stomping angrily up the bus steps, you sat down harshly in the seat next to Kiyoko, who questioned you silently. You only shook your head in response, your mouth setting into a hard line. She didn’t say anything but grabbed your hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Lips quirking up at the action, you squeeze back gratefully before shifting around in your seat and falling asleep to the bus ride’s gentle lulling.

                               ~~~

       Seeing him again made your heart pang slightly. It was the first official tournament of Karasuno’s volleyball season, the Interhigh Preliminaries. You were alone in your section of stands, and happened to be one of the few people here to support your school. But still, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the other court.

There, Aoba Johsai was playing. No, they were winning, and by a landslide at that. Oikawa was smirking, but you figured that was his normal facial expression at this point. However, he wasn’t the one who had caught your attention right off the bat. It was that damn brown-haired ace again, and watching his muscles flex everywhere right before he spiked was… thrilling in a way. Your eyes pledged loyalty to his biceps, and you weren’t one to go back on your promises. At least, until you had to pee. Nature called, and you really had to pick up. 

       After doing your business and washing up, you pushed your way out of the bathroom and waved your hands around like an enthusiastic nutcase to air-dry. 

       “Damn empty paper tow-” your bitter mumbling was interrupted by a voice that was evidently more familiar to your heart than to your brain. Giving in to its demands, you subconsciously followed the sound while simultaneously eavesdropping on the conversation. 

       “Why don’t you just ask her out then, Shittykawa?”

       “You know I hate that nickname, Iwa. And plus, I’ve only talked to her once before at that practice game against my annoying prodigy.”

       “So what? You’ve asked out girls before without even knowing their names.” Their voices were getting closer, and just as you step around the corner into your hallway, you make eye contact with that panty-dropper of an ace- oh shit, where’d that come from? He looks back to his friend- is that Oikawa?- before continuing, “Just walk over to her and say,” the volleyball player halted his words before directing them at you in a mockingly shrill voice and imitating, “Hi, my name is Oikawa.” A shock flowed through your system and you tensed up at the words. Oh, hello there, not Oikawa. You knew you should respond. But even though you didn’t want to dishonor yourself and your cow, your jaw felt wired shut. Your mouth, however, got a little impatient at your lame excuse. 

       “I thought your name was Iwaizumi.” Your soulmate stopped in his tracks and stared at you in amazement. Yeah buddy, now you know how I feel.

Oikawa’s whines began to fade away along with the world around you as you gawk at the ace, but that was nothing new. You zone out all the time while staring creepily at people, it’s just that now it’s socially acceptable because he’s your soulmate.

His olive orbs are captivating, but not enough to distract you from the awkward silence that begins to ensue. It was painfully quiet, and after a while you tried to escape his eyes and look away only for your eyes to stop at his broad chest, disappointingly covered in an open white and turquoise jacket. Sadly, his jersey resided underneath. You know, lately I’ve heard that going around shirtless is all the rage nowadays. Wanna be more trendy? Hey, maybe next time you could say that out loud. Soulmates were supposed to love each other implicitly, so he might actually listen, right? You're halted in your mental rambling when Iwaizumi begins to chuckle, causing a wrinkle in his shirt. That wouldn’t be a problem if he just took it off. Suddenly, you have to dropkick yourself out of your daze when he begins to speak, figuring you should probably start learning how to listen to others now that you found your “other half.” 

       “Sorry you almost thought you were stuck with Shittykawa here for a second.” He gestures to that one guy standing next to him while glancing down at your soulmark. Without another thought, you begin to smile widely at him, reveling in the mischievous twinkle in his catlike eyes while savoring the lovable grin on his face. Fate, you sneaky bastard. You win this round.

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: nothin’ much to say, except I like writing with an accent for Atsumu. That shit’s bomb. Enjoy!

Word count: 2339

Tetsurou Kuroo:

“Hey YN,”

He starts off so strong. His voice has that ever present lilt in it, like he’s trying to bait you closer. 

“I-” he breaks off into a breathless, short laugh, “-I’m not really sure why I called… I guess I was hoping to catch you before I went to practice but…”

He swallows, and you can almost imagine him rubbing the back of his neck. “But I guess I missed you. I mean–not like that.” He sputters. “Not that I don’t miss you! I do! I-”

Kuroo pauses, a bitter chuckle traveling through the phone. “God, I’m a fucking wreck. Did you know that? I’m a fucking trainwreck after us, and I can’t even pinpoint why.”

There’s shuffles in the background before the phone thumps, and Kuroo’s voice is distant but still audible. You figure he’s put you on speaker for whatever reason while finding a seat somewhere. He huffs as he settles in. 

“Sometimes I think it’s because of the way we ended things.” He sighs, tone growing thick like his throat is stuck with something. “I yelled at you, so loudly, and I’ll never forget that look on your face when you left. I relive it every night, you know that? Asking myself what I could have done better and whatnot.” A loud hiss, like he’s sucking on his bottom lip harshly. “What I could have said or done to make you stay.”

“And then it’s not even the breakup that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s those moments we used to have, those goddamn memories I’ve got seared in the back of my brain that I have to repress when someone even spins a goddamn pencil like you did.”

Another thump, and suddenly his voice is much louder than before, the phone pressed back against his ear. “That pillow, you know the one that’s got your perfume all fucking over it. I tried to throw it away yesterday.” He scoffs. “And that failed. So I woke up fucking cuddling it this morning, as if I didn’t already feel like a loser.”

“And I know you still have my sweatshirt,” he inhales then exhales deeply. “I don’t want it back. I can’t–please don’t give it back, I don’t want it. Consider it yours, or whatever. Maybe you’ve already gotten rid of it, I don’t know.” So wobbly. His voice has slowly grown shaky over the last few seconds. “Whatever.”

A long pause drags out for at least a minute, and the only thing that stops you from checking if he’s still on call is the short breaths that are barely audible. 

“Just,” he finally breaks the silence, voice cracking. “Please, I gotta know. For my sanity, please, do you miss me?... Miss us?”

“‘Cause God YN I miss every second of us.”

“One of the guys yesterday asked me what happened between us. I don’t even know why, I just got so mad so quick I wanted to sock him in the face for even bringing you up.” A quiet slap against his skin, like he’s brought up his hand to run it down his face. “I just… I had spent all day trying to keep you out of my head. I saw you in the halls that morning, but I know you didn’t see me–you had your head down reading that fucking book you love so much–and for the rest of the goddamn day I tried to keep you out of my head. And then he brought you up, and I just… God, I don’t even know, I just fucking lost it.”

“The coach sent me home after that, said I needed to clear my head. Not that it worked, ‘cause look where I am now.” He released a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sitting on the damned school steps all over again, crying like an idiot for who knows how long.”

A voice, distant and hesitant, calls out to him. “Kuroo.” It’s Kenma.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m coming, just give me a sec.” But he’s quiet all over again, maybe deep in thought.

But then you hear a ruffling of clothes and a small sniff. Kuroo clears his throat. “I-I have to go. I’ll… just–call me back. Please. I wanna hear your voice, I-... I miss your voice.”

Silence.

“I miss you.”

“I love you.”

Then he hangs up.

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

“YN.” As usual, his tone is deadpan and succinct. If he’s calling you, there’s a reason for it. 

“You’ve left some clothing at my house. Please let me know when you have time to pick it up. I’ll have it prepared for you.”

“There are also the gifts you’ve given me there as well. I don’t know if you want those back or not, so please let me know before your arrival so I can get those packed up as well.”

“Regarding the gifts I’ve given you, you can keep them. I will not be needing them back.”

“If... if you have the time, I would also like to talk to you. I feel we have some things to discuss regarding our breakup.” The line falls silent, but when you pull the phone back, the voicemail still says it has five minutes left.

“I do not like the way we ended things,” he speaks up after a minute has passed. “It was… you’re wrong. You were wrong.”

“You said I didn’t care about you, but you’re wrong. I do. You said I never think about you, never spare you any thoughts, but you’re wrong.”

“The truth is, I hate how distracting you are. I find it hard to focus on practice now. In games, I feel myself losing my edge. You’re always just there. My mind is always on you. So much that I don’t know how to stop it.”

“So when you said I never cared about you… I was frustrated at how wrong you were.” A scraping is heard, dull and barely audible. He’s gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw in what you’ve always recognized as a hint of his growing irritation. 

“How you can take over my mind and still say that I don’t ever spare you a minute of my time, it angers me. You’ve taken so much away from me, and then you go and say that I haven’t given you enough…”

“It’s not fair. I don’t accept it.”

“Tell me, YN. Have I taken over your thoughts the way you’ve taken over mine? Do I have you as wrapped around my finger as you do me?”

“Or have I just become one of those lovesick fools I’ve always despised, chasing after something they can never have?”

“I deserve to know, YN. You owe me that much.” There’s such certainty in his tone. It’s impossible to think of his words as anything else other than absolute truth. Speaking through your phone was a man not only desperately heartbroken, but also completely, utterly confused. To draw such an emotion out of a man like Ushijima…

“Tomorrow, before school, I will find you.” His words held no threat, softly spoken so as to only sound like a promise. “I want you to be honest with me tomorrow, so I can have some semblance of closure.” 

Once more he’s gone silent, as if waiting for your response. Every breath he takes now comes out as a huff more than an exhale. He’s so wound up by now you’re almost positive this attitude will drag on until your conversation tomorrow. 

“It’s what I deserve, YN. You can’t take away from me the one thing my mind has run on for months now and expect me not to want answers.” There’s a squeal of a chair against tile flooring, and a beat later you hear the rustling of clothes as he takes a seat.

“What more you want from me, I’m not quite sure. Yet, somehow, I still feel myself yearning to give it to you.”

“Tell me, YN, is that fair? You’ve taken yourself out of my life, and I still feel as though I’d do anything for you. Give anything for you.”

“At the very least, I must know if my actions were not in vain; if you feel my absence even a little bit in comparison to the hole you’ve left in me.”

“Did you really love me? You said it before you left that night, but if you did, then I don’t understand why you left. I need you to enlighten me, YN. I just don’t understand.”

A pause. “Goodbye, YN. I look forward to our talk tomorrow.”

Atsumu Miya:

“YNNN!” The shout of your name is so loud you yank the phone away from your ear in shock.

Hesitantly, you draw it closer when everything quiets down again. 

“Oh God, someone grab his phone!”

“Atsumu, hand it over now!”

“He’s calling her, isn’t he? Dumbass.”

However remote, you can still hear the groans of your ex’s teammates along with the dull thumping and buzzing of far-off music. You figure he had been at a friend’s house or maybe even a club, and he’d probably locked himself up somewhere like the bathroom with his phone in tow. 

There’s a slam, then a click followed by the muffled shouts of the voices you’d heard earlier. Then a gulp as Atsumu downs the rest of whatever alcoholic drink he somehow got his hands on before calling you.

“YN, how dare you!” Accusatory, and extremely slurred. He’s drunk off his ass, and his accent is so thick you struggle a bit to understand him. “Yer such a meanie for breakin’ my heart like that, darlin’!”

“All I ever wanted was to love you an’ give you the world; why’d ya hafta go an’ take it all away from me?”

Another gulp, and now he’s sniffling. “I just… I just don’t know why you did it. It was gonna be us two forever, darlin’. You said you’d never leave me. Why did ya have to…?”

“I know it’s hard for you to be alone for all that time, darlin’, an’ I ain’t gonna act like I never saw how you felt. But you said you could do it–you promised that ya'd do it for me.”

“What happened to all those promises? You said you loved me so many times, and now every time I think about you sayin’ those words, it hurts so bad. I know I’m gonna regret this later, I ain’t stupid, but I want you ta know that I’m broken now, darlin’, and it’s because a’ you.”

“The nights are so unbearable, YN. I can’t stand ‘em. You wouldn’t believe how cold that bed is without you in it. And yer fuckin’ pillow–goddamnit that thing–so many times now I thought a’ just throwin’ it out rather than smell it for one more second. That fuckin’ perfume ya always wear is just everywhere on that bed though, so I say to myself, ‘What’s the point? It’s still there no matter what I do.’ And do ya know what’s really sad?”

The slurring, the wobbling, the stuttering. At this point, he’s an incomprehensible mess. Long ago you’d heard a concerning bang, but that bang had caused the end of his unsteady footsteps so you figured he’d finally just collapsed to the ground. 

“Two days ago I took down all the pictures we got hung up all over the apartment. Every single one I took down and put ‘em all in a li’l pile on the couch. An’ on the coffee table I had this stupid trash bag, and I had this fuckin’ lighter in my hand. For an hour, I sat there, lookin’ at the first damned picture I took from that pile. The stupid lighter ran outta gas ‘bout halfway through, and I still didn’t put the picture down. It was like I was stuck lookin’ at us, at how good we were. So many times I asked myself what the hell went so wrong that you up and left me outta the blue.” A choked up laugh snuck through the speaker. “It was that picture of us when we graduated. I was holdin’ you in my arms and you were smilin’ and hangin’ onto me so tight and—fuck-” Atsumu broke off in a breathless whimper, a muted sob slipping through. 

After about a minute of silent weeping, he cleared his throat, though it was scratchy rough when he spoke again. “All those pictures–they’re back up on the wall, darlin’. Never did nothin’ with ‘em, never hid ‘em away.”

“I just… I just don’t wanna get rid of ‘em. And ya wanna know why? It’s the most pitiful thing yer ever gonna hear.” He heaves a shaky sigh. “It’s ‘cuz I keep hopin’ one a’ these days yer gonna show back up at our door, that li’l look of confusion on yer face when ya see I got rid a’ all our pictures together, and then you’ll get all sad and pouty and beg me to dig ‘em outta the trash for ya.”

“I’d do it. Ya know I would. I’d do anything for you.”

“S-so can you come back, darlin’? Please?”

“‘Cuz I need you, bad. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“That damned house is too quiet without you singin’ and dancin’ all over it. An’ I can’t ever figure out where you got those scented candles from–the ones that smell like yer perfume. I can’t find ‘em, and the ones you left behind, they’re all burnt out. All used up.”

“I miss you, darlin’. Fuck, I can’t stand another second without you.”

“Please, just come back to me. I need you.”

And in the background his friends have finally jimmied the door open. There’s a strangled cry as one of them tackles Atsumu to the ground, ripping the phone from his grasp. “Fuck, guys, look, he is calling her.”

“Oh, ‘Tsumu…”

And the call ends.

My masterlist is almost maxed out

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

Indebted and In Debt (Vampire Kenma x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Kozume Kenma is one of the most infamous vampires to ever exist, the legends of him and his clan rivaling that of Dracula himself. His preserved sarcophagus lies in the heart of Tokyo’s Supernatural Museum, subsection C: Vampires. You, on the other hand, are the reason wet floor signs exist. A chance slip, an accidental cut, and a band aid missing the trash can all lead to the chance meeting of you and the vampire committed to serving you eternally. “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

A/N: lil idea I just had. Don’t know where I’m gonna go w it, if anywhere, but like y’all can read it if u wanna🥺👉👈 Enjoy!

Word count: 3631

        “Years ago, this museum was founded after the first sighting of a werewolf in Tokyo. He was spotted at midnight under a full moon just as he- Ma’am, please refrain from touching the artifacts.”

        Sheepishly, you pulled your hand away from a hip-high ancient wood carving of a mermaid, inching your way back toward the group as the tour guide fixed you with a dirty look. With a small huff, she straightened her shoulders under her Victorian-style overcoat that matched the rest of her gothic getup. An ancient London day dress made her seem as though she had crawled out of one of the many paintings on the wall that depicted Jack the Ripper as numerous supernatural creatures. The only thing that set her apart was the ID badge that hung around her neck. 

        As you returned to both of your friends’ sides, you avoided their shaming gazes and instead busied yourself with pretending to listen to the tour guide as she restarted her monologue. 

        “YN,” one of your friends, Akira, hissed, “you promised you wouldn’t touch anything!”

        “I didn’t!” you whisper-yelled back. “The lady stopped me before I could.” 

        At your half-effort to clear yourself of blame, Akira leaned her head back and let out a loud sigh. Kanna watched the interaction with a ghost of a smile on her lips, sniggering a little as she always did when Akira lectured you. 

        Both of your friends had invited you with them today as a celebration of passing your first semester of college together. Kanna had obtained the tickets in some way that went along the lines of “My dad’s brother knows the cousin of a guy who…” yadda yadda yadda. 

        Either way, you agreed to go with because, as expected, nobody was watching you and everyone had their eyes on them. Both of your friends were significantly beautiful, Kanna towering over you with long slim legs and hair that trailed down her back in waves while Akira stood just about at your chin, her hair chopped into a bob that never failed to frame her glowing eyes and constant frown. 

        Standing with them was like hiding in plain sight--an effortless camouflage. 

        You only realized you were lost in thought when Akira stalked back from the tour group that had managed to travel thirty feet ahead of you, her hand grasping your arm and dragging you back up to join them. When you returned you saw Kanna flirting with a boy who looked around your age and you distantly remembered him from your chemistry class. 

        Of course, he didn’t recognize you. 

        As the tour group made its way through the cathedral-shaped museum, stopping for a few minutes at a time for each exhibit of mythical beasts, your gaze darted back and forth between the ever-growing collection of sculptures and weaponry. 

        You remember being obsessed with the supernatural as a child, even getting into some intense arguments about whether vampires or werewolves were better, but at some point the infatuation had faded away into passing fascination--you were almost envious that someone had been able to preserve their own childlike spirit so much that they created an entire museum for it. 

        The outside of the makeshift cathedral looked exactly how you’d expect: towering spires with windows of stained glass depicting angels, suns, and crosses. The inside, however, was so juxtaposingly modern that it slapped you in the face the minute you entered. The walls were painted black with maroon accents, effectively maintaining a gothic theme. Though yellow lights embedded in the ceiling lit up each hall, brass sconces were still nailed to the walls, balancing two flickering candles each. 

        Everyone walked down a red velvet carpet that covered polished dark wood underneath and muffled their footsteps, the dull thumps somehow making the museum more ominous. Much like the exhibit you were in now, which was centered around witches, a single television hung at the far end of each exhibition room, ceaselessly playing a small, summarizing video of the creature’s origins. 

        As it murmured in the background about how witches and wizards were not the same thing, you inspected a broomstick that was supposedly owned by a witch from Salem. It floated in the air with two clear strings tied around either end just above a carved marble pedestal holding a gold plaque. The broom of Sarah Good, it read, caught and hanged in the Salem Witch Trials. Her descendants now live in New Orleans, the supposed location of a secret witch coven.

        You licked your lips thoughtfully, moving onto the next artifact with vested interest. The next was a cat skull and on its plaque it explained-

        Before you even got to read the words, you lost your footing and toppled over, crashing to the ground in a single heap of limbs. 

        Ow.

        Groaning, you righted yourself back onto your butt, inspecting the untied shoelace that had sniped you. Several gasps rose around the room, but not for you. 

        The wooden stand holding the cat skull balanced now on a single leg, tipping over in slow motion. Crap! 

        You tried to scramble up onto your knees to catch the fallen display but before you could, a form blew past you in the blink of an eye and caught it in its tracks, righting it back on its four legs before recentering the cat skull. 

        A chuckle left the museum worker as he spun back to face you, piercing green eyes observing your fallen form. Well, piercing green eye--the other was covered by a tuft of black hair, just as spiky and wild as the rest on top of his head. As he smirked, you could see a hint of his canines, looking sharp enough to cut through skin. You blamed the sight on the lighting. 

        And on the obvious supernatural fetish. 

        The man offered a gloved hand to you, the rest of his form draped in a velvet black trench coat, and as he pulled you to your feet, you glanced at his ID tag. Kuroo Tetsurou, exhibit handler. Of course he would be on the lookout for clumsy visitors such as yourself. 

        Good thing, too, because you were like a bull in a china shop. 

        “Thank you,” you mumbled, half-avoiding your gaze because you were embarrassed and half because you were never too good at handling yourself like a normal human when it came to attractive men. 

        “Of course.” He held your gaze and hand for just a tad longer than was socially acceptable before letting go and stepping back. “Though, perhaps stay a couple feet back when observing the artifacts.” 

        Those “fangs” had to be fake. 

        The worker left you with one last chuckle and a wink before walking away, hopefully to never see you ever again. God, that was embarrassing! A small pout grew on your face as you flushed deep red, refraining from hiding your face in your hands because you knew that’s what everyone else in the room expected from you--you figured you’d entertained them enough for one day. 

        While glancing around for a hole to bury yourself and die in, you realized your tour group was long gone. The witch exhibit wasn’t exactly packed with people so you could easily tell your friends were gone as well. 

        Muttering a small curse, you made your way through to the exit, flinching.  when the animatronic witch posed at the door cackled in your ear. 

        The dimly-lit hall was clear of people aside from a few stragglers searching for a room to inspect. As you made your way down the hall, voices floated out from each room, none sounding familiar. Each doorway had its own silver plaque positioned above, naming the topics of the room. 

        Centaurs. Genies. Unicorns.

        The tour you had gotten tickets for stated that it wasn’t going to go into every room in the museum, but it would brush over the most popular exhibits. And if there was one thing you remembered, it was that the newly-renovated vampire exhibit was the main reason the group you traveled with was so large. 

        The museum had added an artifact that bolstered their popularity greatly--the supposed sarcophagus of Kozume Kenma, one of the leading vampires of the Nekoma Clan. 

        Vampires. There!

        You speed-walked into the room, slowing your steps when you entered because you’d recently learned where traveling through an expensive exhibit without thinking would get you. 

        And yet, when you bursted into the room and saw a glimpse of Kanna’s black hair bouncing through the exit, you threw all caution to the wind.

        “Kanna!” You zipped in between the red ropes restricting visitors from getting too close to the paintings, darting around glass cases holding blood-stained cloaks and taxidermy bats while waving your arms like that would somehow catch the eyes of someone with their back turned. “Kan-NUH!”

        A wrinkle in the carpet launched you forward and you waved your arms wildly for balance. 

        If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have walked right out. You looked insane, like you were acting out your own rendition of monkey-turning-to-woman.

        Your fall landed you against a table where a sharpened blade sat, pointed upward for show. One hand slammed against the surface of the marble while the other, in your panic, slid just along the razor-sharp edge. 

        Shock came first and you flung your arm away with a gasp, stumbling back and crashing into what felt like another table. You reached your bleeding hand back blindly to stable yourself while the other reached up to press against your racing heart. 

        The pain was finally kicking in and the break in your palm began to drip down your hand, leaking blood with ease. Your hand shook so bad you could barely feel it, numb with panic as you gasped for breath. 

        Finally, when your gaze stopped wavering in sync with the pounding of your head, you glanced over at the sword display. No blood seemed to stain the blade, but a large sign hung just in the background stating PLEASE DON’T TOUCH!

        Definitely not a first for you.

        You looked over your shoulder out of instinct for just a second, wanting to see what sat on the table you currently leant on to see what other rules you were breaking, only to feel your throat close up at the sight. 

        A mummy sat in a polished black coffin, carved of wood with details of vines, leaves, and finally a cat’s yowling face carved into the latch that hung over the cracked-open space. A bloodied half hand-print sat right at the head of the body, coloring the mouth area red while the rest of the wrapping remained an aged white. 

        “Shit!” you hissed with panicked eyes, lunging back and away. “Shit, shit, shit! Oh, I’m so fucked.” A large sign, even bigger than the flatscreen that played the story of the first vampire, read DO NOT TOUCH OR APPROACH. SARCOPHAGUS IS EXTREMELY FRAGILE. 

        The three underlines of each word hit you like a freight train and you almost gagged. Unlike your other little slip-ups, this one would seriously cost you. 

        There was no way the coffin didn’t cost more than your apartment and college tuition combined, and you were already toeing the line of serious debt. 

        Do I tell someone? Do I not tell someone and let myself get caught?

        In terms of damage, the mummy looked totally fine. The small discoloring around the mouth was barely even noticeable from your ten-foot distance away, but the closer someone would get, the easier it would be able to see. Other random speckles of stains littered the wrappings, of course due to age, but in a museum for vampires? With red stains on the mouth of said vampire?

        Someone would see. Eventually. But according to the sign, no one would get close to it for a while. 

        Maybe you would escape this scot-free. 

        Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and fished for a band aid in your pocket. Injuries were common so you always kept some on hand. 

        “You’re gonna be fine, YN,” you mumbled to yourself, fighting to tear open the wrapper. Your hands were shaking so badly it was almost impossible and tears stung your eyes. “You’re gonna be fine. Just take deep breaths.”

        After five minutes of shaky fumbling and calm words, you finally just ripped the package in half and pulled out of the now-deformed band aid, slamming it over your wound and calling it a day. 

        Yesterday, you took four finals in four classes. Today, you damaged a fragile museum artifact that, if caught, would cost you thousands. 

        You were going fucking home. 

        You tossed your band aid wrapper in the trash with a huff, not noticing the single, stained paper fluttering to the floor just in front of the exit. 

                                +++

        Blood. Air. 

        Blood. Sweet, sweet blood. 

        Thirsty. Hungry. 

        Dark. 

        Pain. 

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Hoarse wheezes was all Kenma could manage as he lay stock-still on a soft surface. Pins and needles pricked at his every limb and he almost groaned in relief because it meant he was alive. 

        His tongue was heavy as a rock and was dry as sandpaper but he could still taste the sweet flavor on his tongue. Metallic-like, it was both nourishing and yet not enough.

        No, no. Definitely not enough. He needed more.

        Twitching his finger was an exercise that if he wasn’t completely dehydrated would have worked up a sweat. Moving the rest of his arm made him wish his death had lasted. 

        But someone had blessed him with blood, with life, and now he had a debt to repay. 

        Kenma wasn’t like Kuroo. He followed the ancient laws of vampires, now matter how outdated they were. Born-vampires had one code, and that was that whoever gave you blood and therefore everlasting life, was your master forever. 

        This was code. 

        Kenma thought of Kuroo and how he’d taken blood from all kinds of people, an action that would’ve been called taboo by the vampires of old. 

        Then Kenma thought of Kuroo alone and wondered just where he was. 

        It was completely dark, and each muscle he moved seemed trapped in the same position. A loud rip split the silence that previously mingled with Kenma’s wheezing as he reached up an arm and patted at his face. 

        Trapped. Stuck. Wrapped in something?

        “K…” Kenma tried to call Kuroo’s name, but even the first letter scraped at his throat hard enough that he gagged. 

        It was so dry. He needed more of the blood he’d given. 

        Just a drop would be a blessing. 

        “Ku…”

        But he had to get out first. 

        If he knew one thing about Kuroo, it was that the man was loyal. If he knew another, it was that he was also immortal. 

        Because Kenma followed the ways of the code, he was the right hand man of the Nekoma Clan. Kuroo was the leader, but he knew to protect his own.

        “Kuro...Kuroo.”

        The pain was irrelevant. His hand still scratched at his face, slowly yet desperately as he ached to tear away the cloth. To see light for the first time in centuries. 

        Footsteps echoed miles away, perking Kenma’s ears. 

        “Kuroo...Kuroo.”

        They drew closer and closer, ever so muffled through the wrappings that trapped Kenma in darkness. 

        “Kuroo...please.”

        A hand batted away the one Kenma kept patting over his face and Kenma heard the zing of a blade. 

        “Kuroo…”

        “Shh.” Kuroo’s voice urging Kenma to shut up had never sounded so melodic. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

        Kenma let himself relax, allowing Kuroo to cut through the thick cloths encasing his body like a cast. The latter cursed under his breath each time he sliced a bit too close to the skin, almost breaking it. 

        The process was long and painful. After coming back to life, Kenma suddenly had the urge to move, something he’d never had before. 

        Except he knew exactly why he needed to move. He needed to find them. Whoever they were. 

        Though eternal servitude was never exactly Kenma’s life goal, he knew it was an honor to be deemed worthy as someone worth eternal life. To be given such a gift was a sign that your life was meant to be spared. 

        When all the bindings split away and Kenma could open his eyes, a ringing burst in his ears accompanied by a pounding headache. He’d never known candles to burn so brightly, but maybe that was something of this new age. Or perhaps he was laying below a skylight. 

        Neither. The light source was a rectangular shape directly above, harnessing the light of a thousand white flames to make the room glow. It buzzed as well, or perhaps that was the few moths that flew around it. 

        “Kuroo,” Kenma reached a hand up to cover his eyes, “I have to-”

        “Shh.” The older hushed him once more before holding a cup to his lips. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

        The cup was dark and Kenma couldn’t see what was inside of it. Panic struck his heart and with a sudden burst of energy, he slapped the cup away from his face.

        “NO!”

        The cup flew, spilling clear liquid through the air before cracking against the floor with a splat. The older man in the room sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 

        “Kenma, come on. I know the dumbass laws and your dumbass willingness to abide by them. You know I wouldn’t force you to drink blood you didn’t want.”

        Kuroo was right. Kenma trusted him to not force blood on him and he trusted Kuroo not to try and bring him back either. Kenma wanted his revival, if it were to ever happen, to be of someone else’s desire to revive him. 

        He’d just… panicked.

        “I know.” His throat suddenly felt parched and sickly and Kenma returned his gaze to Kuroo’s face. “Could you…?”

        “Yeah, I’ll go get another one.”

                                +++

        “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

        “Just move over on the door, bitch!” you wailed, sobbing into your ice cream and curling deeper into your blankets as the movie drew to a close. Tears ran down your face and half a tissue box sat in numerous crumpled-up balls on your coffee table. 

        To be fair, a large majority of them came from when you first got home from the museum. After throwing yourself a pity party, you decided to give yourself even more reason to cry by watching the Titanic movie over a bowl of ice cream.

        Your phone sat beside the used tissues, occasionally lighting up with missed calls from your friends hours earlier. Texting felt like a waste of energy, and you could certainly tell them what happened tomorrow.

        If you weren’t being arrested for damaging museum property at that time. 

        Even the thought sprung another nervous wave of tears to your eyes and you clicked off the movie, searching for another story to bawl your eyes out to. 

        Three loud knocks cracked at your door, making you flinch. 

        Probably Akira and Kanna, worried out of their minds. 

        “Guys,” you stood up and turned on your living room lights before walking to your front door, “I promise I’m fine. Something just happened today that really-”

        But when you turned the knob, it was neither of your friends. 

        It wasn’t even female. 

        It was two guys, one looking vaguely familiar while the other was entirely unknown to you. 

        The first, significantly taller and with the same ruffled hair, was Kuroo. Just the sight of the museum worker made you want to jump out your window and onto the sidewalk ten floors below. 

        The other was shorter with blond hair just past his chin, the roots a dark brown. His eyes were glowing with a sort of anticipation but his face appeared otherwise bored. 

        Nerves began to dance under your skin and you shifted from foot to foot, your hand still on the door. You only realized you were biting your lip when both men drew their gazes to the action, and after that you immediately stopped. 

        “Uhh, y-yes?” You gulped and watched them both with flared nostrils, ignoring the way the blond’s eyes followed your throat. “Did you n-need something, offic- I mean sirs?”

        The familiar one’s lips quirked, something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched your anxious movements. Yet, he never said a word. 

        Instead, the blond one stepped forward, somehow looking uncomfortable in a red sweatshirt and black sweatpants. There was an air of seriousness around him even as his face gave off a feeling of nonchalance. 

        Here it comes.

        You tensed up your shoulders and closed your eyes, waiting for the words of your doom. 

        Instead, cold fingers grabbed the hand you had limp at your side and you felt a softness brush over the back. 

        You opened your eyes once more only to see a small smile with fangs peaking out as the blond pulled his lips away from your hand. 

        “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

        “What?”

Bet (Tsukishima x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You ended up wearing a green bean costume to school the next day. Why? Ugh, don’t ask. 

A/N: Looking up April Fools pranks for this fic was just about the best research I’ve done for a story in a while. Hope you like it! (Again, thank you guys so much for the likes and follows, they make me so happy I almost screech and scare the shit out of my parents!)

Word count: 1245

        “Kei, there’s no way your teammates are that stupid.” 

       “Oh yeah? You wanna bet?” You did, and you really thought you would win, too. Oh, how wrong you were. 

       It was April Fools, and Tsukishima came up with a simple prank to test just how oblivious the Karasuno volleyball team could be. Before practice began, you were to bring in a box of original glazed-donuts to the second gym. Nothing too special, it’s just that on the top of the box you wrote “Happy April First!” in bright green letters. The fear and anxiety in the team captain’s eyes was instantaneous. 

       “Hey guys, I brought in donuts for you all!” you announced cheerfully, setting down the closed box on one of their metal benches. Even Kiyoko, who had been seated there, stood quickly and watched the donuts with suspicion. Chuckling behind your hand, you joined a smug Tsukishima near the entrance and waited for the show to begin. At first, the whole team had been ecstatic about the gift and thanked you loudly, but smiles dropped off each and everyone’s faces one-by-one the closer they stepped to it, evidently reading the note on top. 

       Giving your boyfriend a pointed look, you gestured to his teammates and whispered, “See, I told you they wouldn’t-” you were cut off by the sound of the box opening, and whipped your head over in surprise to see the culprits. It was Hinata and Kageyama, glancing inside in wonder at the deliciously glazed pastries. 

       You gawked at the sight, but Tsukishima’s smirk only grew while he folded his arms and leaned against the wall comfortably at the scene. “Guys, wait!” Daichi warned, his arm reaching out in protest, but he was too late. The rest of the team watched in horror as the ginger and the blueberry inhaled the donuts without so much as pausing at their captain’s exclamation, licking their fingers and shouting a “Thank you!” at you before returning to the court. Visibly shaken at the spectacle that had just occurred, Kiyoko reclaimed her place on the bench numbly as the rest of the team returned to practice with bewildered expressions. They were all lying in wait for side-effects that would never appear from your innocent box of treats.  

       You were appalled. “No hesitation. They didn’t even notice. I can’t tell if they’re fearless or just stupid,” you mumbled. 

       Tsukishima patted your jaw closed and gave a shit-eating grin. “The latter. Definitely the latter.” 

       Refusing to take the loss, you looked up at him and bargained, “Double or nothing?”

                               ~~~

       Your boyfriend’s second prank was… admittedly crueler. You assumed he was still pissed at Nishinoya and Tanaka for hitting on you at the first game you had ever attended of his, but you didn’t mention your theory. Plus, this trick would be enough revenge on its own. It was the next day, and you and Tsukishima had spent an hour last night painting two onions and caramelizing them like apples, only to carry them into school and drop them off at the desks of the two flirty dimwits under the guise that they were from the gorgeous Kiyoko herself. At first, you thought the plan failed. The school alarm hadn’t sounded in warning that the pair had spontaneously combusted at the gifts, and you didn’t hear a loud commotion in the halls from them running around like excited, headless chickens. 

       “Be patient,” the blondy murmured in the desk next to you. “It’ll happen at practice. I know it.” Huffing out a breath, you dropped your chin into your hands and zoned back in on the teacher’s droning. History was mind-numbingly boring; you just wanted to win the bet right now!

                               ~~~

       Walking hand-in-hand to volleyball practice directly after school, yours and Tsukishima’s gentle teasing was interrupted by wobbly shouts. “Kiyoko, you’re so amazing!” 

       You both recognized the voices and exchanged looks before running up to the open doors of the gym. Wow, what an embarrassing scene. Nishinoya and Tanaka were writhing around on the ground with overjoyed expressions and happy tears, hugging the disguised caramel onions to their chests in front of a highly confused team manager. 

       “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but get up off the ground.” The pair instantly hopped up at her monotonous command and whined after her as she walked away. Both schooled their expressions into utter seriousness and faced each other before intertwining their arms. 

       “We eat these caramel apples at the same time, in honor of our goddess Kiyoko.” Nishinoya’s face was humorless and dark as he held the unwrapped onion up to his own face. You cringed at the thought while your boyfriend began to snicker under his breath.

       “Agreed, brochacho.” Tanaka nodded along, and together, they both took large bites of their unsavory treats, freezing up at the first taste. 

       Tsukishima grabbed onto you for stability while he wholeheartedly cracked up next to your ear. His howls echoed throughout the gym while you covered your mouth at the sight. In just two more bites, they had swallowed the onions whole with shadows on their faces. You were going to throw up, you just knew it. At last, the pair separated slowly and stared down at their empty sticks. They didn’t seem appalled or disgusted at all. Rather, they looked… stupefied. 

        “Kiyoko, those were delicious!” You flinched at the outburst as the pair suddenly skipped their way over to the unsuspecting third year and began to excitedly circle around her like a ritual. While she complained at their actions, your boyfriend was now roaring with laughter, his whole body shaking with each chuckle as he shoved his face into your shoulder to calm himself. You were still mystified by the stomach-churning show you had just watched. And finally, just when Tsukishima’s cackles began to slow, you moaned at your defeat. 

       “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you whined in disbelief, “Did they seriously just eat whole onions? What the hell is wrong with those guys?!” 

       “I ask myself that question every day,” Tsukishima disclosed to you, pulling away to wipe off his glasses with a rag found in his pocket. Grumbling under your breath, you sigh before turning to him and placing your hands on your hips. 

       “All right, all right. Fine, you win. What do you want me to do?”

       Returning his glasses to his face, his eyes flashed behind the lenses while he smirked deviously. “I thought you’d never ask.”

                               ~~~

       I wanna die, you thought to yourself as your face bloomed with telltale embarrassment. Keeping your head ducked, not that that would help hide you, you walk through the gates of Karasuno and make your way into school, small giggles trailing after you. Finally, you spot your boyfriend at the same time he easily notices you. Utterly miserable, you lazily drag your feet over to him, seething from inside your costume but staying silent nonetheless. It’s not like you could plan his murder out loud, after all.

       Snickering victoriously, Tsukishima cheekily wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Who’s the string bean now?” 

Hi. Do you have any idea when you will continue the reborn series?

Yep, a new part is coming out on Christmas!

Pumpkin Eater (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Last night, your friend sent you pictures of Kuroo with some girl at a random club. In short, not only was he a liar, but he was also a cheater, and you couldn’t stand to be with him after this.

A/N: Okay, so just to be clear: this was originally going to be a Taehyung (BTS) fanfic but I didn’t wanna mess with my masterlist bc I’m lazy. *This means Kuroo is aged up and a little ooc.*  I also didn’t really wanna ruin my image of him by writing a cheating fic, but I just wanted to write some angst tonight. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 1679

        You saw them. Pictures of him and another girl at some club. Last night, he said he was hanging out with his teammates, and you had only nodded your head, so innocent at the time. If only you knew, then maybe the pain would hurt less. Maybe.

       The door opens in your peripheral vision while you sit on the couch, back straight and eyes downcast. 

       “How was practice?” Kuroo hadn’t noticed you sitting in the dark room. He flinches at the sudden question. 

       “It was good.” With a small glance in your direction, he halts on his path to the kitchen in search of dinner. “Are you okay, kitten?” 

       “I’m fine.” It’s a lie, and you both know it, but somewhere deep down you wanted one last moment of serenity with him. Just one, before the storm hit, before the skyscraper crumbled, before your relationship ended.

       “Come on, tell me the truth.” He plops down on the couch beside you and wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders. A bittersweet emotion floods through your system at the action. It relaxes you, but on how many other women did it have the same effect? 

       Your chest is tight and thanks to his proximity, you don’t want to breathe. What if he notices how every intake of air trembles and shivers with what you hope is pure anger and frustration at him, but is actually sorrow and agony? What if he forces you to end this before you have enough time to revel in his warmth, in the love you still have for him? Your mind aches at the flurry of thoughts running rampant. 

       “Okay,” you admit, “I’m not fine.” When his head drops on your shoulder in a comforting manner, you repress the urge to hurl. Please don’t touch me, but please don’t stop touching me. You never wanted to lose him, but it seems he was never yours to lose in the first place. 

       The dim living room is silent aside from the television chattering in the corner. Replayed, forced laugh tracks only deepen your misery, making a joke of your pain. The space smells like the rain Kuroo had tracked inside, the drops having soaked into his hanging jacket by the door and into the pants that rub against your bare legs. 

       “You can tell me anything, kitten. You know that.” Rage bubbles deep in your chest at his words and you yank away from his grip, propelling yourself to the other half of the sofa and throwing him a glare.

       “Can you?” Deep in your mind, you wonder if he has the decency to admit what he did, but you know him better than that. Not once has he ever even admitted to sneaking your last cookie, even as you watched him choke on it. Kuroo’s eyes widen at your words and he nervously shifts to face you.

       “What are you talking about?” he gulps, looking everywhere but you. He bends one leg under the other and anxiously taps his fingers against it, a nervous habit you’d noticed when you first began a relationship with him. On your second date, it was adorable. When he tried to avoid admitting he cheated, it was aggravating. 

       “I think you know what.” Your gaze burns into the side of his skull with just enough pressure that he cracks. 

       “I swear it was an accident!” The confession is weak and rushed, but it doesn’t hesitate to trample all over your heart. Tears sting your eyes and paint your cheeks while you bite your lip to distract from any nonphysical pain. It doesn’t work. No matter how hard you scrunch up your face and clench your teeth, it just doesn’t work. Fury and resentment for his betrayal roll off you in waves. 

       “Oh, so your dick just accidentally slipped right into her?” you laugh bitterly. “What, did you fall on a banana peel?” Kuroo can’t stand your shaky words and he looks to the side with flared nostrils. A hand is now twirling around the strings of his sweatshirt, a movement you’ve been subconsciously mocking this whole time on your own clothes. The clothes you borrowed from him. 

       “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

       “Oh, well that makes this whole situation so much better,” you scoff. “I’m so glad I wasn’t supposed to find out!” Your voice raises to a wobbling yell and he jumps. With a snarl, you stand up from the couch and try to stomp away. His rough hand covers your own and stops you.

       “YN, please! Let’s talk about this!” 

       “No!” you shout in his face, yanking away from his grip and returning to your path. 

       Your bedroom is deathly quiet and cold compared to the unbearable heat in the living room. Thoughts run wild through your head while you load a bag with everything you own. Clothing, cords, anything you use in the shower, it all weighs down the backpack. At last, you’re only missing one thing. But as you reach for your phone on the nightstand, a picture breaks your intense focus. 

       It’s you and him on your five-month anniversary. The amusement park ride you had just gotten off is far behind you two in the background. Kuroo’s frozen in pure joy, beaming at your green face while you stare back at him with adoring eyes. 

       His arms are around your waist, yours are around his neck, and distantly you remember the other pictures from that moment. The one where he had pressed a kiss to your nose, and the one where you had yacked on his shoes directly after. The corner of your lips quirks up at the memory just as a drop splatters onto the frame, soon followed by more and more until it looks like raindrops racing on a window.

       Your sniveling is silent as you hug the photo to your chest, sitting down on the bed. Every breath is trembling and every unheard sob racks through your body. It hurts so much. When the door creaks open, you wipe your cheeks swiftly with one sleeve of Kuroo’s sweatshirt. 

       “YN,” he murmurs, peering in at you. His face is puffy and flushed, much like how you imagine your own. 

       You don’t respond, so he enters slowly, gently making his way over to you. Suddenly, he drops to his knees in front of you and tangles his arms around your waist. You tense at the feeling of his face shoved forcibly against your stomach as he leans over your thighs, crying into you.

       “Please don’t leave me,” he whimpers in a disheveled heap against your lap. “Please don’t do this.” The onslaught of tears causes his body to shiver uncontrollably, shaking yours in return. Eventually, his volume grows. Every regretful moan and howl begins to break you down bit by bit, echoing throughout the house until you finally drop your hands into his hair.  While your own eyes grow wet once more, you tenderly comb through the wild, black tufts.

       “Tetsurou.” He squeezes you tighter and you choke out a sob. “Tetsurou, come on.” You tug up against his scalp but he only shakes his head.

       “Please don’t do this, YN.” It’s a broken whisper, and you feel it more than you hear it. Each slowing breath exhales into your abdomen hotly while he slips away reluctantly. On his knees, he stares up at you pleadingly. His warm, hazel eyes pierce right through your heart while his large hands remain on your thighs, running up and down at a deliberate pace.

       “Please,” he mumbles once again, pressing a kiss to your bare kneecap before nuzzling his forehead against it, fingers trailing down to your calves.  The word slips out of his mouth repeatedly, each one hoarser than the last. 

       Through all of this, your heart races and stutters unsteadily while your head aches from the day you’ve had. You return to brushing his hair to calm him, but your eyes lazily wander to the bag beside you. It’s completely packed. You have a friend in the city you can live with. Your phone is sitting directly on top of the pack, just begging you to call her. You know what you have to do. 

       “I have to.” Kuroo freezes and your chest pounds while you reach for your bag. 

       “Please,” he whispers once more, not moving a muscle from his seat on the floor. You slip out of his grasp and grab your things, exiting the room with a broken heart. Hurried footsteps race after you just as you open the door to the outside.

       “I’ll do anything!” he cries out suddenly, hand slamming it shut. “Just… don’t leave me.” His bottom lip quivers while he waits, observing your every move. Hesitantly, you reach up and cup his face, running your thumbs along his damp cheeks. Instinctively, he grabs onto your hips and closes his eyes blissfully.  

       “I know you will,” you croak out, shaking your head with a bitter smile. “And I’m sorry, but that’s not enough.” You turn and peel away from his grip, slipping out of the house and hiking your bag up on your shoulder. The door gradually closes behind you with a rush of air and you open your phone to contact your friend. 

       It almost slips out of your hands when a loud crash sounds from within your home. A heartbroken sob follows and you try to ignore it while walking away.

Part 2 (Second Chance) 

Part 2 (Never Again)