YO WERE U TALKING ABOUT MOTORBOATING FOR KUROOS SIT ON FACE TEXT CAUSE WATERBOARDING IS TORTURE

Pretending to Moan Another Guy’s Name (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Hehehe, I’m s i c k. Anyways, here’s a rly long headcanon that I’ve been thinking about writing for a while. Some are short and some are long, but hey, that’s life🤷‍♀️ Enjoy! (Side note: been a while since I did a milestone, but hey, this one’s huge--happy 4k y’all💜!!)

Word count: 2705

Oikawa Tooru: 

He’s dead silent, waiting to hear that name fall from your lips one more time just to make sure he wasn’t having a nightmare. 

“Ushiwaka…”

Nope. He wasn’t. He pinched himself five times to prove it. 

Oikawa can’t stand the thought of you dreaming about one of his greatest enemies. His hands curl into fists and his bottom lip gets drawn in by his teeth and, if you hadn’t been so busy trying to fend off your own laughter, you might’ve heard the small whine leaving the back of his throat. 

The bed shifts with Oikawa’s weight leaving it imbalanced and just when you prepare yourself to stop him in his tracks with a giggle, the bedroom door slams hard enough to rattle framed photographs of you and him on the walls. 

Okay… so maybe you had gone too far. 

Stunned into silence, it takes you a couple minutes to recover from your boyfriend’s outburst. When you finally find the strength to breach the cold air of one a.m. goosebumps rise along your skin and you decide to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

Lord knows damage control with Oikawa always required a solid chunk of time. 

You find him in the kitchen of the apartment, seated on a stool with his elbows propped on the oak-finished island with two fistfuls of hair and a downcast face. 

Unsurprisingly enough, your prank no longer felt like the genius idea you’d thought it was three hours ago. 

“Tooru?” Your voice is small so as to not disturb him, but his lack of movement makes you think you have almost been too successful in your efforts. 

“Tooru,” you move to lay your hand on his shoulder, “please.” However, the second you make contact he flinches away like you’d burned him. The room is silent once more, but as you keep your hand hovering over his back, you hear a quiet sniffle. 

Oh God, what have I done?

Without another word, you grasp both ends of the blanket and wrap both it and yourself around Oikawa, attaching yourself to his back with a tight enough grip that he can’t shake you off, which, trust me, he certainly tries his best. 

Like a fish out of water, he writhes and thrashes in your hold and in that split second that you think How the hell do I get him to stop this? he’s managed to wriggle himself so hard that the stool and you behind him lose balance, toppling to the floor like a Jenga tower. 

“Oh shit!”

Oikawa, ever so graceful, lands directly on top of you, his lean shoulders crashing hard enough into your chest that you wheeze out the oxygen trapped inside. The stool almost spun and clattered right on top of both of you before Oikawa kicked it away hard enough that it crashed against the metal fridge and slid all the way out into the living room. 

In the dead of night, the noises were loud enough to increase the ringing in your ears that had started when your head slapped against the linoleum floor. Oikawa was still squirming against you but for an entirely different reason now. 

“Fuck--YN, YN! Are you okay?” Still sitting on top of you, another breath gets squeezed out of your chest the second Oikawa rolls over to straddle you. One hand lifts your head, palming frantically at your scalp while the other shoves under your shirt to feel your ribs. 

“Could you,” you choke out, “get off me before I answer that?”

A startled scoff leaves his mouth before he slides off you and onto the floor at your side, helping you sit up while still trailing his eyes up and down your form to search for injury. Not that he could see much--the only light in the apartment was filtering through the kitchen window and came from the quarter moon in the sky. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You bat away his hands but can’t stop your own from trailing up and rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out his cheeks were damp with tears. From the way he sniffled to the way he blinked every .5 seconds, you knew tonight had been a sudden emotional roller coaster for him. 

“Yeah,” he glanced away nodding. “Yep, all good here.” 

“Bullshit.”

Oikawa gave you a scandalized stare and all you could do was sigh before scooting over to him, getting settled criss-cross style before palming both of his cheeks and yanking his face down to yours. 

“I know when you’re lying to me, Tooru, and I know exactly why you’re lying to me right now.”

His first instinct was to roll his eyes and pull away, but you pulled him back harder, hard enough that he flashed his wide eyes to yours in surprise. 

“It was a prank, babe.” Ah yes, the words that turn every boy into goo. 

Oikawa clenched his jaw and wrapped his hands around your wrists. “The “yanking me off my stool so I can crush your ribs” thing or the “I’m gonna moan your enemy’s name so you almost have a heart attack and cry enough tears to flood a river” thing?”

“The “I’m gonna moan your enemy’s name so you-’”

Oikawa slammed his lips against yours, effectively drowning out any of the dumb-ass explanations you had waiting on your tongue. 

“Your pranks are always so mean, baby,” Oikawa mumbles against your lips. “Do you know how much it hurt to think that you were dreaming about being with another man?”

“Did it even matter that it was-”

“No,” he pecks your lips once more before rising to his feet and tugging you to yours. “No, the name didn’t matter at all.”

“Well damn, that’s a shame, because I was stuck between moaning Ushiwaka or Kag-”

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart: I don’t wanna hear another name aside from my own come out of your mouth for the rest of the night. Understood?”

“I-”

“Understood?” You sigh. 

“Yes sir.”

Tsukishima Kei:

Ouch.

One long finger pokes into your cheek, hard.

You’d barely even gotten the first two syllables of the ginger’s name off your tongue before Tsukishima was at the ready, stabbing you in the face with a fingernail you were almost positive you’d seen being filed down just hours ago. 

Bastard must’ve been faking it.

“Don’t say that,” Tsukishima grunts out tiredly, accompanying a yawn with yet another jab. 

Part of you wondered if there was a point to even keeping up the act, but the other part was so pissed you almost wanted Tsukishima to worry that it was real. 

You mumbled the random nonsense of the average person waking from a deep slumber and opened your eyes just to squint at the blond in bed beside you. 

“Wha…?”

In pure darkness, you could barely see Tsukishima narrowing his gaze back at you, half because he was pissed and half because he was lacking his glasses. 

He thrusts a finger right in the middle of your forehead. “Don’t ever moan that name again.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You fake yawn, closing your eyes before rolling over to have your back face him. 

“I’m not stupid, YN.”

“Are you sure about that, Kei?”

He scoffs. “Fine, then. I’ll play along to this pointless game.”

The mattress quakes as Tsukishima shifts onto his knees, grabbing your hip with a single hand and tugging it hard enough that your back presses flat against the sheets before he throws a leg over your thighs, straddling you with ease. 

“Is this what you wanted?” One hand of his grabs yours, pulling it up above your head. Your breathing is more like gasping at this point as Tsukishima trails his other hand down your side. 

“Were you trying to make me so jealous that I’d do this?”

“Kei…”

“‘Cause, YN, you could’ve just asked.”

At last, your other wrist is trapped and joins the one over your head, Tsukishima’s long fingers easily holding down both of your hands with just one of his. 

“So, do you want to tell me what that shrimp did to you in this “dream” of yours?”

“Kei…” Was it so hard to pull a juicy reaction out of him? You wanted hugs, tears, maybe even a little begging. 

Of course, leave it to Tsukishima to always find a way to be above you. 

Tsukishima can see the fight die in your eyes and his own glow in return. 

“Really,” he hums, “that was all it took?”

“Jackass.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, YN. Plus, we both know that prank of yours was impractical at best.” He slides off you, returning to his side of the bed and propping himself up on a single elbow to face you. “I’ve heard you moan my name plenty of times in your sleep to know when you’re actually having a wet dream.”

The smirk on his face makes you warm and fuzzy yet angry all at the same time. In retaliation, you jab a finger into his forehead before spinning face away from him once again. “Don’t get too cocky there, Kei. One day I might actually dream about another guy,” you fold your arms, “then what are you gonna do?”

Two arms wind around your stomach before yanking you back into a firm chest, then a single leg creeps between the two of yours. “Please, we both know I’m the only man you even think about.”

Though he sounded so self-assured, the tightness of his grip spoke differently. You reveled in the idea that he was just a bit self-conscious of that fact. Because although you’d never say it to his face...

The smug bastard was always right.

Tendou Satori: 

“Semi,” you moaned.

“Semi,” Tendou mocked. 

“Mmm, don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop.”

At first, you almost choked on the drool gathering in your mouth the instant you heard Tendou fake-moan along with you. 

Now, it was a contest of how long you could keep a straight face. 

All the lights were on in the room. The blinds were yanked open and the birds chirping out the arrival of morning tweeted from a tree just outside the window. 

You’d woken up when Tendou left to take a shower itching to prank him. At the time, it seemed perfect. 

Now your chest hurt with how much laughter you kept locked inside. The second he stepped out of the bathroom with steam rolling off his body, you decided it was time to put your plan in motion. 

Oh what a mistake it was. 

“More.”

“More.”

Tendou squated right next to your side of the bed, crossed both arms on the mattress just two inches from your face, dropped his chin on top and proceeded to parrot your every word. 

“Harder. More, please Semi.”

“Yeah, harder Semi, you grandpa-haired, shorter-than-me, cries-at-the-Titanic-movie, girlfriend-stealing son of a bitch.”

And just when you sputtered out a breathless laugh, Tendou rose from his crouch and stalked out of the room, towel wrapped over his head and shoulders like a black Sith robe. 

In the kitchen, pots and pans clattered like Tendou was trying to get the attention of the entire city, at one point even walking back and forth in front of the doorway slamming two frying pans against one another. 

“Oh no, I can’t find that spatula!” your boyfriend called out before proceeding to toss out every single appliance in the drawer, allowing them to clang and clash against the wood like they were literally raining from the ceiling. 

What was funny at first was now a major issue for the rest of the apartment complex--it seemed Tendou had gone mad enough that he was risking getting (yet another) noise complaint that would once and for all kick you both out of the building. 

Ever so in a rush, you slid out of the blankets and made haste toward the kitchen down the hall, stopping in the doorway and dropping your jaw at the sight. 

Tendou, maroon eyes flashing with jealousy, held a porcelain plate up over his head with the obvious intent to throw it against the ground and create an even bigger mess. 

Luckily, his eyes darted toward you at the last second. 

“Hey,” he grinned with eyes so wide and hair so frazzled you actually thought he’d gone insane for a split second, “look who’s up!”

“Satori…” you made your way over to him, precarious step by precarious step. Tongs, pizza cutters, and ice cream scoopers littered the floor while all of your pots and pans lay on the countertop in a pile almost up to Tendou’s shoulder, “what the hell is going on?”

His smile faltered for a second before it came back even larger than normal; his eyes, however, stayed darkened. “Just trying to make breakfast! But I couldn’t find that damned griddle we use for pancakes.”

“Probably because we threw it out four months ago.” Uh oh, you’d finally broken him. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

The pandemonium in the kitchen was nothing compared to the frantic look in Tendou’s eyes, though. They flitted up and down, up and down along your body, looking for something you were almost positive wasn’t there. 

Then he spoke. 

“So… how did you sleep?”

Tense. Tight. Deep. The question sounded like someone had strangled it out of him, and you didn’t dare glance up from collecting the appliances littered on the floor for fear of seeing the pain in his eyes. 

“Satori… I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” With arms full of disarrayed utensils, you hesitantly looked towards the sink where you aimed to drop them off, only to find Tendou bent over and waiting to meet your eyes. The words had slipped off his tongue right as you finished your sentence. 

“The moaning… like, when I moaned Semi’s name and stuff.” Maintaining eye contact at this point was basically impossible for you and instead you settled for watching your feet as they shifted your weight nervously. “It was just a prank and I didn’t think it would get to you so bad. I’m sorry. Really.”

The atmosphere in the room grew ten times stiffer, almost choking you up--you never thought such a thing was possible with a relaxed guy like Tendou present. 

Evidently, you were wrong. 

“It was all a joke?”

“Yes.”

“Like, it was just a prank?”

“Yes.”

“To see how I’d react and stuff?”

“Yep.”

“Phew,” Tendou pressed a hand against his forehead and let out a laugh. “Almost lost my cool there.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor and you glanced around at the kitchen. Tendou didn’t seem to mind your temporary shock, though, as he guided you over to the sink to dispose of the utensils before wrapping you in a hug. “Don’t ever,” he grumbled, voice suddenly deeper and huskier, “ever do something like that again.” Then he pulled away. “Now,” Tendou grinned, “how’s about we go out for breakfast?”

You stayed frozen in place, eyes flitting from the floor to Tendou’s suddenly normal smile back to the floor again. 

Then you kicked him in the shin. 

“Ow, what the hell was that for?!”

You sputtered out a laugh from deep in your chest that was bordering on maniacal. “Oh-ho no, I am so not cleaning up this mess. That’s your problem, mister.” Then you pressed a small kiss to his cheek. “I will, however, go pick us up some breakfast and bring it back here though.”

Then you yanked him into a hug and forced his ear to your lips, lowering your tone deeply and darkly. “And this place better be spotless when I come back.” You pulled back with a smile before skipping to the front door and Tendou could only watch with a gleaming grin on his face. 

God, he loved you.

“You better not be going to see Semi while you’re out!” He received the bird in return.

“Love you too, babe!”

Yandere bokuto the boy that will pull out the emo face every time he feels like he’s not getting enough cuddles

Agsjdjsk another one about his cuddles, and y’all are both right. One day, I imagine he’ll come home just whining and whining about not getting to hold you, even though you’re busy with work or smth.

“YNNN.” Add on a lip pout, but you still shake your head no. He huffs and whimpers and rubs his face against yours, but you don’t budge.

“Bokuto, I can’t. This is really important.”

That’s what sets him off. One second, you’re peacefully typing at your desk, the next you’re being shoved into the mattress, Bokuto’s muscular form trapping you against the sheets. His eyes are furious, any innocence abandoned at your words.

“I’m more important, YN. I am.”

the nail polish fic was too cute !! i loved it, you perfectly wrote bakugo’s character 😂💓

Thanks 🥰 I’m so glad you liked it! He’s an angry whacknut, so I love writing for him😂💜

May i please be added to your Reborn Taglist

Yep, for sure!!

Can I request Yandere Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya kidnapping a Fan Reader? Y/N is a fan but mostly those type of fans that admire from afar. But the reader can't handle being in the same room with the yandere. The reader gets all red and runs away. And if the yandere show affection, Y/N covers their face from embarrassment.

Kidnapping Fan Reader (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Ngl, this request is the bomb. Like seriously, I love ideas like these! Anyways, I’m gonna make these a lil long, and also I was a lil confused on how to make the reader a fan?? But I tried so here ya go. Please enjoy! (Side note: Good Lordy these are long😳😳 my bad)

Word count: 3814

Bakugou Katsuki:

As a pro hero, Bakugou was initially quite frightening to you. 

You were a nobody, just someone who always happened to be in the crowd whenever he had a person to save, but then your view of him changed when one day he saved a kitten from a tree in the park. 

It was the first time you had ever seen him so… calm. There was even a hint of a smile on his face when the cat chattered at him. Then, of course, he noticed you creepily watching him. 

A blush encompassed your face but before he could shout at you for watching him, you had dashed away with your hands on your cheeks. 

At first, Bakugou was confused. What a dumbass.

But then it was like he was seeing your blushing face everywhere. No one had ever looked at him like that-- like he was cute. 

Months passed, and you couldn’t help but notice the hero Ground Zero had become partial to patrolling your part of town for any danger. 

You brushed it off, counting it as a blessing since you often got to see him on the rooftop across from your apartment building, just surveying the street below. 

If only you had known that he was only watching you.

Bakugou couldn’t believe how stupid you were, leaving your window so open and bare for anyone to peer inside. Anyone could watch and see how you curled up on your couch to read a book. They could see how you would slowly fall asleep, head dropping back as a bit of drool dribbled down your chin. Any loser stupid enough to look through the glass would see how your shirt became rumpled as you shifted in your sleep. It was large enough to slip off one shoulder and leave your untainted skin bare for anyone to corrupt. 

God, it was like you were teasing him, daring him to come take what was his. Bakugou would teach you a lesson or two about toying with him. 

The wind blew through your open window. You always left it cracked since your AC was a bit fickle. And as you dozed off to sleep, you were almost certain that squeaky noise that reminded you to buy a little WD-40 once in a while was only a dream. 

Licking his lips, Bakugou slid open your window, cringing as it whined with the movement. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, pushing it up the rest of the way. Thankfully, you were already knocked out, soft snores falling from your lips in a steady pattern. 

He couldn’t help but glance around your apartment, snickering at the sight of a poster in your open bedroom. It was from a photoshoot of his from when he first debuted as a pro hero. You had purchased the partially shirtless version. 

Surely you wanted this too, then.

And with that logic, he didn’t worry when your eyes fluttered open after he picked you up. 

Mind foggy, you were rudely awakened from your dream about a certain pro hero when you felt your body being lifted. The perpetrator made you wonder if you were still dreaming. 

“Ground Zero?”

“It’s Katsuki, babe. Call me Katsuki from now on.” His arms felt like solid metal, caging your knees and side to his chest as he carried you bridal style to your- open window?!

“W-what are you doing?” He snickers at this.

“Oh please. Don’t act all innocent now. I’ve seen your poster of me, and how you blush whenever I stop a villain in front of you. You want me, YN. And I want you too.”

“Please, I don’t want this!” You struggle in his arms, placing your hands on his chest to push him away but he doesn’t budge. 

“You little tease,” he hisses, using his arms to hold you over the ten story drop that was your open window. “I know what you like.” Fear leaves your body trembling as you default to your instincts, wrapping your arms around his neck so as to not fall to your death. Bakugou grins at this. “You think I don’t know how to read you by now?”

“Please don’t.” 

“Oh, don’t worry babe. I’m taking you home.”

And with that, he hops out of the window and explodes his way through the skies, reveling in the way you cling to his body so tightly. Your whines and whimpers were so cute. Almost as adorable as the blush you used to always wear around him.

It only takes a year to break you. 

In his own home, he kept you locked up tightly. Every window was barred and every door to freedom had six locks, each matching the keys he dangled on his fingertips every time he came home. 

In the first few weeks, you were scared of him and what he would do. Then a month later, you determined his attitude: he was naturally loud and volatile, but he would never hurt you. From then on, he expected you to act a certain way.

Cook him dinner, greet him with a kiss, sleep in his arms, and never try to escape. 

It had been a struggle to get you to agree to the pattern, but after months and months of practice, you finally got in the groove. 

Bakugou even got to see that classic blush of yours whenever he arrived home and peppered your face with kisses. 

Totally worth it.

Todoroki Shouto:

With Todoroki, you’re just a minor student in the Support class of UA, but everytime you cross paths with him in the halls, you let out a squeak and sprint past him. 

Todoroki tried to shake it off. Of course, you weren’t the first person to be wary of him and his abilities. Honestly, it was nothing new and he had a mark to prove it. 

Really, it’s true. Todoroki thought you hated his guts. You always avoid talking to him and hide your face whenever he comes into a room. He thought that was a red flush of anger on your face. 

It’s only when Kaminari groans about how jealous he is over the whole thing. 

“Ugh, Todoroki, you’re so lucky. Why does a hottie like YN have to be whipped for a guy like you?!”

Todoroki just shrugs and walks away, but it only hits him later in his dorm that “Oh shit, that’s what that is.”

He’s all like, “Hmm, makes sense.”

It doesn’t make sense, but he still likes you.

He’s not really sure why, he just does. Todoroki’s never had a girl that acted like you around him. Acted like he was this great person worthy of admiration, whether from a distance or up close. 

The thought of you begins to leave fuzzy feelings in his chest. You? Whipped for him? Nu-uh, no way.

But God, then he notices the way you smile when he enters a room, just before you hide your face. And the way you stutter and fumble over your feet to run away when he talks to you. 

With a quick Google search, he deduces that these are all signs of a crush. 

Oh. Ohh. Well… Todoroki kind of liked that. 

And the next day, he was determined to talk to you. He wanted to see those cherry cheeks up close, and those little flecks of color in your eyes as well. He wanted to see your pupils dilate and your lips fumble for words because you were speechless at the sight of-

What.

A man. No, not a man. An unworthy piece of shit was talking to you. Making you laugh and giggle enough that a rosy tint fell on your face. He was too close for comfort, only inches away from brushing your hand with his. 

Todoroki had to stop this. 

In seconds, he’s covered the distance between you two, feet stomping against the floor loud enough to gather the attention of most in the classroom. He had barged into your classroom to talk to you.

“T-todoroki,” you stutter pathetically, eyes wide as you scramble to hide your face. Blood had risen to the skin of your neck, clear as day thanks to you turning your head to the side. 

“YN, I need to talk to you.” With a hard glare at the other guy, the Class 1A student latches a cold hand over your wrist and tugs you out of the classroom, other students watching in awe at the display. 

“W-what are you-” you cut yourself off and curse under your breath, heat gathering in your face. God, you hated how you couldn’t control yourself in front of him.

Todoroki loved it.

“Shh, just come with me,” he hushes, dragging you into a nearby janitor’s closet just as the bell rings.

“But we need to get to class,” you choke out, proud of how you kept your words steady this round. Butterflies flutter in your abdomen when he pulls you into the tiny room, closing the door behind him before turning to you. 

“We can skip for a bit.” Heterochromatic eyes burn into your own, leaving you ducking your head and scuffing your shoes on the floor. 

“Why-” your question falls from your lips when Todoroki begins to leer closer to you. The sudden proximity leaves you stumbling back until you hit a wall, gulping when his forearms cage you in, one on either side of your head. 

“I didn’t like that, YN.”

“L-like what?”

“That guy,” he seethes. A heat begins to flow off him, growing hot enough to make your forehead perspire. The other half of your body is almost numb, slowly fading into the first dead twinges of frostbite. One of your cheeks feels sunburned while the other is completely desensitized. “He shouldn’t have been touching you.”

Was this a dream? This boy, a soon-to-be pro hero and one of the top in the school, had cornered you in a closet with his face inches away from yours. You didn’t even know he knew you existed. You had always watched from afar, first falling for his aloof looks at the sports festival. 

And now… you just didn’t know. 

“I can’t let that happen again, YN. I just can’t let you run around talking to other guys, laughing and being so close to them when you know you’re mine.” 

What was he going on about?

“Not anymore,” he finally adds, pressing his forehead against yours and staring into your eyes. 

It doesn’t dawn until it happens that he had grabbed a cloth off a shelf in the janitor’s closet. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform invades your senses as you scream in surprise.

You couldn’t help it after a while. You were so tired. And as your vision fades to black, Todoroki purses his lips and wraps his spare arm around your waist. “Not anymore,” he mutters.

You had always known the Todoroki family was loaded. Though it’s not why you liked him, you couldn’t avoid the fact that he used it to his advantage-- especially with you. 

He had bought a small apartment only a few blocks away from UA and decked it out with soundproof walls, bulletproof glass, and locks on everything. 

The one bedroom-- your bedroom-- was beautiful. Silk sheets on a king-sized bed, canopy overhanging it like a protective curtain. There was a bookshelf and a television for your entertainment, along with a window seat so you could see the outside-- the glass was tinted, of course. He didn’t want anyone invading your privacy. 

A closet was filled to the brim with clothing of your size, all fitting like they had been tailored for your body alone. As much as you hated to admit it, Todoroki treated you like a queen. A kidnapped one, yes, but a queen nonetheless. 

He was only waiting for the day that you would ask him to join you on that large, lonely bed of yours. 

Midoriya Izuku: 

In all sense of the word, you were his fan. Really, there was nothing more to it. 

You would flock to all his fights, simply amazed by his power and will. He was a hero, pure and kind to all with an open mind for everyone, and you admired that. 

It also didn’t hurt that Deku was attractive. Rippling muscles hid behind a green costume, almost too similar to the retired hero All Might’s. Freckles dusted over the bridge of his nose and onto the tips of his cheeks, giving him an almost boyish look, but there was something in his eyes. Something you couldn’t see unless he looked directly at you- Oh!

You glanced away with a blush after the number one hero looked up from tying down the villain he had captured. He must have felt your eyes and saw you staring like a hawk-- how embarrassing!

Of course, you weren’t the only one watching him. There was an entire crowd gathered to see the pro hero do his thing. It was only awkward that he had made eye contact with you of all people. What made it worse was that he had smirked. 

Not even his normal, everyday smile that he gave to everyone, but a sly, devious little quirk of his lips. It looked so foreign on his face, and it felt like he knew something you didn’t. 

Ugh, how embarrassing.

You couldn’t hide the heat on your cheeks so you decided to abandon the group of fans, leaving them to watch the rest of Deku’s and hoping to catch up on the news later that night. 

If only you knew that wouldn’t be the first time he had noticed you in a crowd. 

Deku had been watching you for weeks. You were just so adorable, he couldn’t help himself. And honestly, deep down he sees himself in you. There’s a strength behind your eyes, a confidence to do something, and a will to make things happen. 

Deku wanted to help you discover how great you are. In the beginning, at least.

Now, it’s become more of an obsession. 

Under the guise that he wants to see what quirk or potential you have, he’s fallen into the habit of watching you in his spare time. 

No, it’s not stalking. He’s just making sure you’re safe. 

Somewhere during this process of wanting to get to know your life, he’s discovered that you’re perfect. Not only for him, but for everybody. 

You were kind to others, always handing out compliments and taking the high road in arguments. So pure, so untouched. Deku wanted to keep it that way. 

It was all the better when he had followed you home one day and saw it-- the home screen of your phone. It was a picture of him taken by a local fansite. Dramatic flames had been photoshopped behind his outlined form, and even Deku had to admit he looked good. The picture had caught every detail, every indent of his body the hero suit clung to and enhanced. 

He caught you biting your lip and clicking your phone off with a blush before continuing home. 

Deku just knew he had to tease you more. 

What he felt wasn’t fluffy at all. It was intense. A deep, possessive side of him had been unlocked the more he followed you. One day, he knew he had to do something about it. 

Another kidnapping, another villain fought, and as expected, you were among the crowd of spectators. Deku figured you were just as addicted to him as he was to you.

You must’ve been. It was the only explanation. 

You wiggled your way through the crowd all the way to the edge, right where you could peek between all the surrounding people and catch a glimpse of the battle. 

Blood poured from a gash in Deku’s head as he dodged another swing from the villain. 

He hasn’t been moving his legs much, surely I can strike… now!

With a swift kick of his foot, Deku cracked the villain’s kneecap with enough force to make him crumple to the ground. His audience cheered at the sight and news reporters began smiling at their cameras, announcing to their viewers at home that the number one hero had won yet another battle.

While he kneeled down on the villain’s back, his gaze wandered the crowd. 

Where? Where is she? Where’s YN? 

Panic struck his heart when he couldn’t find you in your usual front row spot. No, you were here. You had to be.

His ears perked through all the jabberings of the crowd at the sound of a single camera clicking. Eyes darting back and forth, he finally spotted your signature phone case, with a chibi version of his own face on the back. 

Relief floods his system all before that familiar rush of arrogance that always comes with you watching him takes over. As soon as he finally catches your eye, he throws you a wink.

The outcome is certainly not disappointing. 

Oh my God, he just winked at me. 

You blanch at the sight before your throat releases a little squeal of excitement. You hadn’t even opened your mouth, but apparently it was still audible from thirty feet away. 

You’re almost positive steam is blowing from your ears by the time Deku begins chuckling, green eyes twinkling in glee. 

 Before you could spontaneously combust, you hightail it out of there, shouldering through the crowd and tearing cheek all the way to your house like a bat out of hell. 

“That did not just happen!” You slam your apartment door behind you, coughing and heaving breaths as it had been a while since you ran a goddamn marathon. 

“Oh my God, kill meeeeee,” you whine, running your hands down your face before flopping backwards onto the couch. Evidently, you had accidentally sat on your remote, as the television clicks on and scares the shit out of you. 

“Number one hero Deku defeated the villain only twenty minutes ago, right outside this gas station. Now, we do have footage, but we must warn that it may be graphic for some viewers.”

Your eyes drift to the screen as it switches to footage of the actual fight. Deku takes a hit right to the forehead, leaving a small gash before he dodges and jams the heel of his foot into his opponent’s kneecap, dropping him in seconds. The footage drags on for a few more seconds, and your face burns at the sight of him winking and snickering. 

“They actually got footage of that?!” Part of you is mortified that people all over the city had now seen that (and you’re a bit surprised that it was even real), but the other half is almost glad that it was you he had done that for. Your heart warms at the thought.

“I know, right? I kinda want to save that video now. If only they had caught your cute little blush too.” The sudden voice leaves you lying rigid on your couch. It’s a man’s, and it sounds way too cheerful for your average robber.

“Who are yo-” you cut yourself off when the man comes into view, taking your breath away. 

“Hi darling,” Deku grins. A rough hand peels away from his side to brush the hair away from your face, not faltering when you flinch away. 

“Deku…?” You try to sit up but in an instant, he’s straddling you, one leg on either side of your hip while his face nuzzles against yours. 

“God this is a dream come true, don’t you agree?” 

“How…?” Your mind has truly gone blank, even as your mouth gapes like a fish. 

“Don’t you agree?” Deku repeats insistently. The knees on either side of your hips have begun to press against you with bruising force. His hands trail up and down your arms slowly, just trying to feel you. 

“Why are you here?”

Deku huffs and pulls away, only to press his forehead against yours. “C’mon YN, I know you’re smarter than that.” Rude. “I’m here so we can finally be together!” 

Your hands tremble at your sides. There’s a definitive edge to his tone that makes you understand there’s no other way out of this.

“... You want to be together, right?” Only a second ago, he looked so dangerous and now his eyes are watering. Who exactly had you fallen for? 

“Deku… we don’t know each other.” It was then that you discovered there was nothing more awkward than reassuring a random man straddling your lap. The awkwardness only increased when his tears began to drip down onto your face. 

“YN, please don’t make me do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“I really didn’t want to do this, but I can see now there’s no other way.”

“Deku,” you don’t like the low timber that has grown into his tone, “what are you doing?” 

There was no point in fighting. Deku was a pro hero, number one at that. He’d trained for years, perfecting his body and his quirk, and the best you’ve ever done is buy a gym membership and never use it. 

That’s exactly why no matter how you pushed against his broad shoulders, his toned chest, or even tried to knee him where the sun didn't shine, you couldn’t stop him from pulling the cloth out of his pocket and laying it over your face. 

“Shh,” he couldn’t hold back his tears as you struggled. “Please don’t fight it, YN. Just breathe it in and I promise we can be together forever. Just breathe.”

You wanted to keep fighting. You didn’t want to go where this insane, batshit hero would inevitably take you. But God…

You were so tired…

The next time you wake up, the sun is shining through a nearby window. What you assume is a bed lies beneath you, enveloping you in it’s soft covers. 

Solid, muscular arms are wound around you like a barrier, and you finally take note of what had woken you up.

Pain. Teeth are nibbling at the skin of your neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Please stop,” you say, voice scratched from little use. The thigh that has worked its way between the two of your own presses higher against your sensitivity, shifting with excitement as Deku smiles.

“Good morning, darling! Welcome to your new home!”

I swear the first time his s/o sits on his face Tendous probably like "If I die, its cause the pussy was too good. I want you to put *death by pussy* on my tombstone... And remember to add *He died happy* on it too"

Agajdjssjjs bro you made me w h e e z e😂

If you ain’t right tho😤😤

Bokuto, looking at conditioner in the store: “Apply generously”? Interesting.

Bokuto, in the shower two hours later: HERE YOU GO HAIR. YOU DESERVE ALL THE CONDITIONER IN THE WORLD BECAUSE I LOVE YOU

Bokuto: TAKE SOME MORE, BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT

Bokuto: I WOULD GIVE YOU THE WHOLE BOTTLE IF YOU WANTED IT

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

BNHA Version

A/N: Good Lordy I went off on Yamaguchi’s… Goddamn. Anyways, I know I haven’t been active like at all lately, but I have nothing new to tell you. Life has just been… hectic lately. Nothing new. Anyways, let’s just call this a seriously late celebration for 800 followers! Seriously, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoy these headcanons as a show of gratitude!

Word count: 1423

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

The “Hero-Villain but you’re a couple in real life” trope.

You both met and got together while filming the show.

Iwa’s the hero, you’re the villain

The fans of the show totally shipped you two from the first episode, but y’all were really new and awkward around each other at that point in time. 

Then you both saw all the ship names and edits and were like damn we look hot together “Eh, let’s give it a shot.”

Cut to y’all falling in love and accidentally giving each other lovey-dovey eyes during filming (the directors have to reshoot the scenes because “You’re supposed to hate each other, come on guys!!”)

Yes, yes, there is a scene where you have to fight each other. 

You legitimately punch Iwaizumi smack dab in the face on accident and freak the fuck out.

“OH FUCK, HAJIME ARE YOU ALIVE?!”

Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but he sees how concerned you are and does that tough guy thing where he pretends like it was nothing. 

“Nah, I’m fine.” When the fuck did you get so strong?!

You know he’s lying, so you capture his face in your palms and kiss his cheek tenderly. 

“Does it feel better now?” 

Oh helllll yeah. “Mmm, not really. Try again.” 

*smooch*

“It still kinda hurts. Another.”

*smooch* 

“Better. One more.”

Just as you lean in to give him one last peck, he grabs your chin and turns you to face him head on before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. 

You’re both lost in the feeling of each other and Iwaizumi can barely feel the pain on his face anymore (but he’s totally gonna use this little incident against you from now on).

“Hey guys, we’re still shooting a scene you know.” 

It’s delayed because both your lips are puffy and you both look blissed out.

Long story short, after plenty of messages, letters, and tweets from fans, the show makes your character turn good so y’all can become a couple in the show as well. (hehe, crowd-pleasers. Ya gotta love ‘em.)

That blooper went viral btw.

Kuroo Tetsurou: 

The “best friends on and off the stage” trope.

First of all, the fucking inside jokes you two have. 

Yeah yeah, the fans shipped you and all that crap, but you two were just friends. 

Pfft, yeah right.

Neither of you are the main character, but your wild actions and sarcastic comments on screen just made the audiences fall in love. 

The chemistry between you two and the easy flow of conversation made people believe in true, destined love. 

All the haughty taughty fans are like “Yeah they’re totally great together but nobody should pressure them into dating otherwise it’ll ruin their relationship uwu!!🥺🥺💔💔” (then these fuckers turn around and write fanfiction like it’s nobody’s business.)

You were legit friends, but the way people viewed you was beginning to make things awkward.

“Haha, here’s another tweet about how we should be together.” Kuroo’s nervously laughing while watching your facial expression for the tiniest sign that you liked it as much as he did while looking at his phone.

“Damn, that’s funny.” You laugh is just as artificially forced and Kuroo observes your face with wide, amazed eyes like Oop, there it is.

I mean, what did you expect? You two have been friends for years, of course he can read you like a book. A book he never wants to put down. Ever. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if the writers took this seriously and actually made us a coup-”

He interrupts your anxious rambling with a kiss. 

It’s just a quick peck, and you gasp in surprise after it happens. Then you smile softly and pull him back in for more. 

Not even a month later, it’s official. You two were caught making out in a toilet paper fort at Walmart by fans. (I honestly don’t know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

ANYWAYS, after you two are outed and shizz, you don’t even care to hide your love, just being connected to each other by the hip everywhere y’all go when you’re not shooting.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re absolutely right. Kuroo does interrupt your scenes by sprinting in like a maniac on the loose and slapping a kiss smack dab on your lips while the cameras are still rolling. 

(It drives the directors up the walls, but the fans love it.)

Yamaguchi Tadashi (this one is umm... a lil 🥵, and long):

The “couple on the show but awkwardly have a crush on each other in real life” trope. 

Even though your relationship is a little rocky in real life, this just makes your capability for passion on the screen even larger. 

You both make up for the uncomfortableness behind the cameras when they’re rolling. 

Firstly, there’s a script, so neither of you are forced to think on your feet. 

Secondly, you’re both experienced actors. But that doesn’t mean you’re great people-people in real life. 

Your characters started as two teens falling in love in high school, then moving on to college together. 

This required a lot of chemistry between the two of you, but it was hard to have it both on and off the set, so you settled for doing your jobs best. 

Of course, when the fans found out you two were all blushy and shy around each other in real life, they went berserk.

It was all like: *posts a picture of you and Yamaguchi blushing* “Look at these two fucking cinnamon rolls🥺 They’re so cute together in (the show), but look how shy these nerds are together in real life. How???”

Yeah, so umm, y’all were feelin’ the pressure. 

Then came the scene. 

Of course, you two had kiss scenes before. With a storyline that deep, of course that was gonna happen. 

But the writers really whammied you two with this one. 

It was a dirty scene 👀

Of course the directors were gonna do that thing where they had architecture and other shit cover up the no-no squares, but still!

You kept telling yourself you were a professional and that you could do this no biggie. But umm…

Jesus FUCK!

Who’d’ve thought Yamaguchi would be that fucking bUiLt.

You distantly remember him saying something about playing volleyball, but GodDAMN

So yeah, y’all get it on. 

First he kisses you, as instructed. 

Then he lays you down on the bed gently, as instructed. 

Then he unclips your bra, as instructed.

Then his pupils flare,... 

Rebellion Located.

His hands crawl up your sides as he begins to nibble on your lip.

Your hands tangle into his olive-colored tufts, tugging and pulling as he grunts into your mouth. 

His long fingers run over your skin in all the right places, and you want more.

“More, Tadashi.”

“CUT!”

The director hops out of his chair and calls for a break. Other workers begin to bumble around the set, adjusting lighting for the next scene, rearranging objects, and writing on clipboards. 

The world around you is suddenly spinning while you’re still trapped in the moment. The fake moment. 

Yamaguchi still hovers over you, looking just as frazzled as you felt. 

For a second he leans closer to your face once more, then he pulls away like you burned him. 

He’s rubbing the back of his neck and blushing, and your cheeks are on fire. 

“Well that was um…”

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement breathlessly. 

Suddenly, he gets up and hands you your previously flung bra and shirt, averting his gaze while you redress. 

While his back faces you, he hesitantly says your name.

“Yeah?”

“D-do you want to g-go on a date sometime?”

… 

Safe to say, months later you two were revealed as a couple, just as the episode aired. 

It didn’t take long for the Sherlock Holmes of your fanbases to put two and two together and figure out just how the relationship went from 0-100 in a matter of days. 

… Yeah, you two will never live that down. Everyone shoves it in your faces any chance they get. But at least they all love you together!

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?”

Volleyball on the Brain (Kageyama x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: In a world where soulmate’s thoughts are written on their other half’s hand, your soulmate always has the same thing on his mind every day: volleyball and the occasional dumbass ginger.

A/N: Thank you so much for 300 followers! Like holy crap, that’s amazing how fast that happened, so thanks again you guys! Here’s the celebration fic, but I’m pre-sorry bc it’s not as good as I hoped it would be. I’m sorry, but I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3076

        Ever since you hit the age of puberty and soulmarks, your soulmate only had one thing on his mind: volleyball. Almost every single one of his thoughts revolved around the sport.

        ‘Did I set that right?’

        ‘Will Oikawa help me learn how to serve?’

        ‘Why didn’t Kindaichi go for my set?’

        ‘I’m not leaving this court.’

        It’s been driving you insane since you were in middle school. But lately, ever since you started at Karasuno, they’ve become… calmer in a way, with the addition of a new “Hinata.”

        ‘Damn, carrot top actually reached that set!’

        ‘That red headed idiot actually beat me in a race! I won’t let it happen again!’

        ‘Hinata, that idiot. He seriously served it right into the back of my head! I’m gonna teach that dumbass a lesson.’

        Every new thought he had drew itself in his own sloppy writing on your left hand. They ran over the back and in the middle of your palm, each new addition darker and bolder than the last, while the oldest faded away to make room for more. 

        At the moment, you inspect the freshest mark on your hand before a kind voice interrupts you.

        “Hey YN! Whatcha doin’?” Yamaguchi, one of the only friends you’ve made since you first began high school, approaches your desk with some pep in his step. He waves at you shyly and you smile. 

        “Just lost in thought,” you respond absentmindedly. You stare back down at your palm, watching a new, more vulgar phrase take the place of a previous thought about yogurt. 

        “That’s what your soulmate is thinking, right?” You nod. “What does it say?” With a huff, you run a finger over the words. 

        “They’re still talking about this redheaded weirdo. It’s so stupid!” 

        “Oh really?” A smug voice pipes up behind Yamaguchi. “Can I take a look?”

        “Sure, go ahead.” You twist in your seat and hold out your hand to Tsukishima, who doesn’t care enough to flip it and read others. The one on your palm seems to satisfy him enough. 

        “Interesting,” he mutters with a smirk. You throw a confused glance at him before the school bell lets out a chime to bust your eardrums. 

        “What do you mean ‘interesting’?” Tsukishima shrugs away the question before exiting your class and Yamaguchi gives him a wave, taking his seat next to you. 

        “Do you know what he meant?” you lean over and raise an eyebrow at your companion, but he only waves it away dismissively.

        “Don’t mind Tsukki, he’s always aloof like that. It’s better to just ignore it.” Yamaguchi’s attempts to reassure you doesn’t stray your mind from the initial problem.

        Does he know something?

                                ~~~

        “YN, you’re up.” The teacher waved the slip of paper with your name on it like a surrender flag. It was public humiliation day, and you were the first to go. Wonderful. At least you could get your presentation over with quickly, but that wasn’t what really gave you anxiety. It was him. At any given moment, your hand could whip out a cuss faster than a bullet and you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. 

        “Okay,” you accept your fate and the risks it provides, ambling your way up to the front of the class with note cards written nonsensically. Curse my chicken scratch.

        “Umm, so my presentation is about-” a snort echoes about the room, followed by a few more snickers, and lastly a gasp from your teacher. 

        “YN!” she whispers your name oh-so discreetly in front of the group of students. “Your hand!” The words are scandalized, like you had slapped her with your glove and declared a duel. 

        “Whatever do you mean?” You stay wide-eyed innocent and purse your lips in confusion. How long can I play this before she excuses me? 

        “Please take this pass and go to the office for a glove,” Bingo. “You’ll have to present tomorrow.” Rescind the Bingo.

        With a grumble, you snag the germ-infested pass and exit the room. It’s on your journey down the hall that you glance down at the word on the back of your hand.

        ‘FUCK!’ it says, capital letters and all. It covers the entire spanse of skin too, written sideways and reaching all the way up to your wrist. 

        “What the hell did he do?” You shake your head frustratedly while stepping into the main office. 

        “Excuse me?” There’s only one person bumbling around the room, and it’s a younger member of staff who flinches and pushes up his glasses at the sight of you.

        “Yes? Did you need something?” You enter the cramped space and hold up your hand, squinting to see the ID card reading “Takeda.” He tenses at the word before nodding solemnly.

        “I understand, let me find a glove for you.” Everyone is now used to the idea that soulmates can have profane thoughts more often than not, so it’s not uncommon for someone to wear a glove on their left hand to hide this.

        “Aha!” “Takeda” is crouched behind a desk but waves around the hopefully unused glove he found victoriously. “I got one!”

        “Oh, thank you,” you say, approaching him and extending a hand to accept it.

        “Of...course…” his voice trails off as he reads the words on the palm of your hand.

        ‘Hinata, the dumbass. He can’t receive for shit.’

        You laugh awkwardly and hide the words behind your back. “Sorry, he’s always thinking stuff like that.” The faculty advisor nods slowly, but pulls the glove just out of reach as you go for it.

        “O-on second thought,” he mumbles, ears growing pink, “t-this is unacceptable.” 

        “Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes at him and raise an eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about?

        Takeda clears his throat and glances at the ceiling. “You should know by now to cover your hand with a glove, especially if your soulmate has been thinking this way during your school hours.” What the fuck?!

        “I can’t control his thoughts, you know!” You sneer at him and cross your arms.

        “Y-yes but this is unacceptable,” his tone loses its nerve but he continues. “I may have to give you detention.”

        “What?! Why?!” 

        “Unless you’re willing to volunteer at our boys’ volleyball game tonight. We could use some point-watchers.” 

        “Hell no,” you seethe, eyes burning with rage. 

        “An hour of detention or helping out at the game tonight, your call.” The staff member wasn’t cruel or mischievous through any of this. In fact, he seemed almost happy, like a father who had just bought his child a puppy for Christmas. Even so, this doesn’t quench your thirst for blood.

        “Fine,” you clench your teeth together and roll your eyes, giving in to his stupid rule, “I’ll help at the game.” At least you didn’t have anything going on tonight.

        “Wonderful!” Takeda smiles at you gratefully and nods his head, handing you the glove before dismissing you. 

        “School is so fucking stupid,” you hiss on your way back to class, snapping the rubber glove indignantly up your forearm.

                                ~~~

        Set one, thirteen points to five. Or was it six? Oops.

        So it turns out you weren’t doing very well at your mandatory volunteering job. Imagine that. While most of you wanted to blame it on the fact that you had been unwilling in the first place, a small part of you thought, no, knew that it was the blueberry on the court.

        “Nice set, Kageyama!” A third year smacked your eyes’ favorite person on the back. You assumed it was the team captain who did this, and you assumed he had just spiked the ball and earned a point. 

        “YN, flip the card over,” the blonde girl, Yachi was her name, urged you with wide eyes. 

        “Right, right, sorry.” You bite your lip and flip it over before returning your gaze to the court. He seemed to have an attitude problem, and hot damn if that wasn’t your favorite type of man. 

        “There’s something wrong with me,” you whisper, glancing back down at your hand guiltily. You couldn’t help it; “Kageyama” was just so pretty! I love him- whoa, where did that come from? Shaking your head for clarity, you read the words on your palm to avoid eye-fucking him for a couple more seconds. 

        ‘That blocker’s not jumping very high. I’ll have Hinata spike it directly forward and over his fingers.’ 

        You smile fondly before returning your gaze to the game. Still thinking about volleyball, huh? I guess we’ll have something in common for once. 

        The redhead of the team charges forward just as Kageyama tosses up the ball. The shorter male jumps high enough to make you blanch while he slams the ball to the ground, just brushing a blocker’s fingertips. 

        “Whoa,” you flip over the card while gazing in awe at the court. “Yachi, what’s that little guy’s name? The one who just spiked the ball?”

        “Ooh, that’s Hinata! He’s amazing at jumping, and he’s really fast too!” The blonde hops up and down excitedly.

        “Yeah, you’re right!” you admit breathlessly. “That was-” Hinata. “-amazing….” Hinata. His name is… Hinata? Oh. 

        “YN!” A hand waves in front of your face frantically. “Pay attention before you get smacked in the face! Trust me, it’s terrifying.” She shivers beside you while you try to breathe properly. Oh my God. It’s him. It’s the blueberry. 

        On the court, Kageyama fist pumps to himself and Hinata copies the action, both yelling heatedly at the point. 

        “Shut up, you two!” Daichi smacks them both on the back of the head and they switch off like a light, repositioning for the next serve. Just as he wipes away a bead of sweat rolling down his face, Kageyama’s eyes catch on something. Her thoughts.

        ‘His name is Hinata?’

        ‘Oh my God. It’s him. It’s the blueberry.’ Did she… find me? He shook his head, trying not to take it to heart before more words, almost indecipherable, scrawl themselves on his hand.

        ‘That Kageyama guy is my soulmate.’ Holy shit. She knows! 

        “Kageyama! Block it, now!” A shout coming from Sugawara on the sidelines causes him to jump into action. Except he got a little too excited.

        “Ooh.” The crowd and players all share the same grimace at the faceshot Karasuno’s first year setter has just taken. He got the point, though.

       You flinch at the sight of Kageyama taking a hefty spike to his pretty mug. A collective gasp arises from the fans and his teammates surround him, inspecting the damage. A coach jogs out onto the court to do the same, and it’s around that time that your gut tries to tell you something.

        Go over there! Umm, how about no? Just do it! You’re not Nike, shut up!

        “Man, I hope he’s okay. Kageyama’s always been tough, but that was a hard hit!” Yachi anxiously bounces on her toes beside you with worry in her eyes.

        “Do you think he’ll be able to keep playing?” you ask, watching as the other female manager hands him a rag for his nose bleed! When did that happen?!

        “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll have to pull him, if only to take him to the infirmary.” You swallow nervously at her response. The urge in your chest to run out there just got a whole lot stronger.

        Go! No. Go! No. Go out there, YN! All right, fine!

        You bound your way over to the scene. It’s a nervous sprint on your tippy toes, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you resembled a two-legged gazelle prancing along the court.

        “We need to take you to the nurse, just for a checkup.” The closer you get, the better you hear them.

        “No, I’m fine.” The gruff voice makes your heart skip a beat. Oh wowww. Hello there.

        “I-I can take him.” You step up behind a shorter player- Hinata- and speak up. The ginger jumps in fright at your sudden voice. 

        “I don’t mean this to be rude in any way, but who are you?” The captain of the team, an intimidating brunet, regards you curiously and a little defensively. You don’t take it to heart right now, but maybe you can spare a couple hours of sleep tomorrow to dwell on it.

        “I’m really sorry to intrude, but, I mean, I can take him to the nurse’s office so nobody kind of essential has to leave.” You shrug and suddenly realize how half-baked your plan actually was. Little too late now. Kageyama watches you suspiciously from inside the circle of people.

        “I agree,” a squeaky voice adds. It’s Takeda! “YN can take him to the nurse real quick. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Right, YN?” He gives you a pointed look.

        “Yep,” you nod slowly. What is he doing?

        “Ughh, whatever, let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Kageyama pushes past the crowd, including you, and walks towards the gym doors. With a head nod from Takeda, you take the cue and hustle after him, joining him in the silent hallway.

        “Hi.” You want to slap yourself silly.

        “Umm, hi?” He gives you a weird look but continues on his trek, nose now dry of blood and soiled rag held by his side. A tuft of dark hair almost covers his heart-stirring blue eyes, but you're thankful it doesn’t. God, he’s so pretty. How’d I catch this? The thought reminds you of the main reason you were out here with him.

        With a deep breath, you snag his arm and halt his movements. Kageyama grows confused and impatient with you, but you try not to let it deter you. 

        “I know this is weird,” you avoid his gaze, but his attention still gives you butterflies, “but can I do something for a second?” His eyebrows rose.

        “Like what?” I think you’re my soulmate. You grab his hand and hold it up to his face, clenching your eyes shut and bracing for his reaction. 

        It’s deafeningly quiet. All before a single “Huh.” 

        Huh? Huh?! What, did you find an Easter egg or something? What does “Huh” mean? For a split second, you forgot he could read your thoughts. A deep chuckle breaks out between his lips.

        “It means I found you. And I’m okay with that.” You open your eyes if only to glare at him. 

        “Oh, you’re okay with that? Thank God, I’m so glad you’re okay with that. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t-” your breath hitches when he palms your cheek. “-okay… with… that.” The words die off your tongue and you wait. His pupils are dilated, so you wait. His palm is so rough, but still warm and tender against your cheek, so you wait... for nothing apparently. 

        “I think…”

        “Yeah?”

        “I think we should find the nurse’s office. My game’s still going on, and it’s going on without me. That’s a problem.” You snort at him, shaking your head exasperatedly before grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers.

        “I should’ve figured you’d be just like your thoughts.” You lead him to the infirmary, but his long strides easily catch up to yours.

        “What’s that supposed to mean?” He suddenly grows loud and offended. Oh man, you are going to have so much fun teasing him.

        “Nothing bad. Now that I’ve met you, I guess it’s kind of admirable that you think about volleyball so much.” His hand squeezes yours at the words and your chest grows tight with joy.

        “Thanks, I guess.” A flush creeps up his face and you chuckle at the sight, inching closer to his side.

        “Of course.”

                                ~~~

        Well, Kageyama didn’t damage anything serious, but his nose is a little purple from the hard hit. The game is won by a landslide, and he offers to walk you home, a chance at which you jump furiously. 

        “You played amazing tonight.” You smile up at him and he hesitantly returns the gesture. Through another hand squeeze, you infer that your soulmate is more into physically showing his love than any other way. With a returned hand squeeze of your own, you infer that you’re going to be totally okay with that.

        “Thank you. I just wish that dumbass Hinata had-” Your eyes widen and you swiftly press a finger to his lips. 

        “Nope!” His face grows visibly confused. “Nope.”

        “‘Nope’ what?” He asks against your finger. You try not to let your eyes roll back at the feeling. It’s not much, but you figure it’s the closest you’ll get to his lips touching your body tonight. Not that you mind that! You’re totally fine with it! It’s just that, you know, he’s fucking drool-worthy. And he’s all yours.

        Kageyama glances down at a watch he doesn’t have and gulps at the sight. Then he draws up his blown-out pupils to meet yours. “Thanks,” he repeats. “I think you’re pretty hot yourself.” He licks his lips and you follow the action dutifully. “And you’re all mine too.”

        Yep, you were gonna die. Your heart couldn’t handle an attack like this, so you worm your hand out of his grip and start to giggle like a maniac while cupping your burning cheeks. “Why,” you laugh your way through the question, “did you have to say that?” It ends in a high-pitched squeak that causes him to flinch.

        “I’m sorry, was that too forward?” No. More please. “I’ll take it back-”

        “Don’t!” You shake your head rapidly and hold your hands out to stop him. “Please don’t ever take anything like that back, please. I’m gonna need it for my sanity.” Confusion washes over his face for a split second before he nods slowly, glancing down at his left palm just in case. 

        “Okay, I won’t.” You nod affirmingly and grasp his hand again, leading him on the right path to your house. 

        “I just have one question.”

        “Shoot.”

        “Do I really look like a blueberry?”