He Has A Nightmare About You (Stranger Things Headcanons)

hi um so two of my fav writers on this platform literally reblogged another of these drabbles as i was writing this one so?? I'm buggin.

It’s the long-drawn snapping of neurons that prickle at you, eyes closed and forearm thrown over your face. A slow peel of eyelid after eyelid, foggy thoughts wisping away at a moment’s notice in the blackness of the bedroom; the ceiling is more a theory of shapes inferred from moon-coerced shadows than its usual cragginess, and you unhook your arm from the dip between your nose and forehead to reach up. Comb your fingertips through the air. 

Was it the breeze through your ever-closed window? Open now, a new development, but surely one that would rouse you like a bear from slumber. You feel large enough to be a bear, warm enough to feel tarped in fur, lethargic enough to clamber off your mattress and land on all fours and grunt like an animal. 

Maybe it was the slice of light underneath your bedroom door. You never forget to turn off the switches in your living room, the LED bulbs too glowy and insistent to sleep the way you do, curled up on one side and facing the doorway. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re not sleeping the way you always do. Not at the moment. Right now, you’re tipped onto your back, each limb swallowed up by an inch of cushion, flat like a slab of carbonite. Your body and the bed are inseparable—each pore on your skin is looped through with a stitch that dips into the sheets, rises back out and finishes with a double knot. 

All you can do is lay there. Willingly, you suppose, despite the spasms. 

A new ozone layer has settled around you, consistency of molasses, and hot to inhale. It stinks of past activity, like breaths that have been used up and tossed out. All of it cloys against your skin, maintaining a sheen of sweat to add to the discomfort. 

You’re awake now, though. 

Unhappy, but no longer unconscious. A bit bitter that you’re all alone. 

But a sharp trill pierces the air, and it hits you—that’s it.

That’s what had awoken you. 

Roused this grumpy, sticky, sore form of you that’s polyfoam-bound, torn too quick from a fundamental repose period. You’re too exhausted to moan, gripe, curse like you should. 

Even as the lights under the door flicker out, and something pushes it’s way inside with various scuffling movements. The room returns to stagnancy with a soft click, save for the lone gust of wind invading and receding at an unsteady tempo. 

Your next breath is a roiling mix of oxygen saturated with sodium and garlic. You hum aloud, a vague attempt to dissuade the bile crawling up your throat. Each time your tongue scrapes past your teeth, the morning grime collects and taints your tastebuds. 

You need water, and a toothbrush, and two tablespoons of toothpaste. Five minutes for an alcoholic rinse, too. 

Definitely don’t need the robust wafting of a pepperoni Hot Pocket up your nostrils at the ass-crack of dawn, as the mattress dips with a bulky outline. 

“Sorry, Bonnie,” a Scottish voice that is not apologetic in the slightest mumbles beside you. “Didnae mean to wake ye. Fuckin’ makes me ’bit peckish.”

i love your writing! if it's ok can i request something nsfw with yandere zuko (your hc for him were really good)

Hot With Envy (Yandere Zuko x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After seeing you laugh with another man at his five-year reign celebration, Zuko must show you who you belong to. 

A/N: Hey, so I finally got part of my life in order. Woohoo. Thankfully, that allowed me to finally finish this request. I’m sorry it took me a while, and I can’t promise that the others won’t end up the same way, but I hope this at least tickles ur fancy. Enjoy!

Warnings: Possessive sex, dirty talk, vaginal sex

Word count: 2916

        “God, YN. I can’t fucking believe you.” 

        Zuko was pissed. More than pissed, he was infuriated. Steam blew out of his nose every step he took as he led you out of the ballroom. 

        The fifth anniversary of Zuko’s reign as the new fire lord, and he had only lasted twenty minutes. 

        “What did I even do?!” The more you tried to pull out of his straining grip, the more bruising it became. You’ve seen Zuko jealous, possessive, hell, even straight up obsessive, but never have you seen him so green-eyed as tonight. If he grew any angrier, your hand would fall clean off. 

        “What did you do? What did you do?! Are you trying to piss me off?” 

        By the looks of it, he was dragging you towards his bedroom. The maroon halls of the Fire Nation Royal Palace were like no other; decked out in vases and other artworks of the past millennium, you didn’t dare look into the eyes of a royal painting for fear that it would fall and you would have to pay for damages. 

        “Zuko, come on. Just tell me what I did!”         His bitter laugh makes your teeth grind. “You really wanna know?”

        “Yes!”

        “You wore that stupid dress. Then you walked into that stupid party looking stupidly beautiful. Then you talked to that stupid guy!”

        “...And?”

        His storming down the halls slowed to a halt. 

        “‘And’? Fuck, YN. You’re absolutely clueless, and that’s coming from me.”

        It took you only a second to realize he had stopped directly in front of his bedroom. You weren’t an idiot; you knew where this was going. 

        “Zuko, stop. That’s your party out there. We can’t just abandon it while guests are still in attendance.” 

        “Why do you want to go back there so bad, YN?” You still hadn’t gotten a chance to see his face, but judging by the tightness in his tone, he was just as agitated as when you both left, if not more. 

        “I-I don’t-”

        “Do you want to see that man again?” The doors to his bedroom swing open hard enough to slam against the walls, leaving a harsh bang to echo around the room. When he turned back to you, there was a glint in his eyes you had never seen before. “Because trust me, my love, after tonight, the only person you’ll be able to think of is me.”

        His chambers were dark and spacious, with the ruby drapes drawn to cover the raised moon in the sky. The black carpet softened every step you took as Zuko dragged you to the center of the room, just where the bed sat. 

        It was large and lonely. The silk, crimson covers of the bed were pulled so taut over the mattress it looked as if nobody has slept there in ages. Two pillows stood at the beadboard, one too many for just Zuko. Four marble bed posts framed each corner, all leading up to connect with the high ceilings. Curtains hung between each, casting shadows over the bed from the candlelight in the corner. Zuko must have lit them while you were distracted with observing. 

        Otherwise, the room was filled with darkness, the one light barely enough to help your straining eyes. Before you could even see him coming, Zuko latched his hand back over your wrist and tugged you hard enough to have you stumbling into the bed, tripping and falling into the cozy blankets that swallowed you easily. 

        “Zuko.” You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to say. Maybe “stop,” or “let’s slow down.” You didn’t get a chance to decide.

        Seconds after you fell, he followed, his legs encompassing only one of your thighs. 

        After he dug his knee into your mound, you figured out why. 

        A moan slipped from your lips, causing Zuko to give you a smirk. Only when your hands came up to press against his chest did he capture them in his own, gathering them in a single grip and forcing them above your head. With his free hand, he trailed a finger down your cheek before cupping your jaw. 

        “Don’t worry, my love. There’s plenty more to come.” 

        At the words, his eyes darted down your body, tongue sweeping out over his lips before he slammed his mouth onto yours. 

        “Mmm,” you could only hum as he kissed you with a fevered passion. Body pressing yours deeper into the bed, he dug his knee harder against your clothed core, the pure heat radiating from his body making it seem like there were no barriers at all. 

        “Zuko.” His name escaped your lips in a breathy moan, and left him panting as he leaned his forehead against yours. 

        “That’s right, YN. Let everyone know who’s doing this to you.” Before you could respond, he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your neck, forcing you to mewl and jerk against his knee. His tongue peeked out to soothe the reddened skin, lapping up the growing sweat on your neck at the same time. 

        More, more, more. That’s all you could think of, and soon enough, you were practically humping Zuko’s leg like a bitch in heat. Though, he didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

        “Look at you, fucking yourself against me. I don’t even have to touch you to get you off.” A rip cut through the otherwise silent room like a hot knife through butter, and it took you a minute to realize what had truly happened. 

        Your dress slid off with ease, and when Zuko tossed it aside, you could see the torn threads spanning along the back of the fabric. With only a wrap over your breasts and-- albeit soaked-- panties to cover your twitching core, you couldn’t help but suddenly grow embarrassed at the situation. 

        “Wait, Zuko, maybe we should slow-” his lips recapture yours before you can finish, and his free hand begins to slide from your chin down to your collarbone. His fingertips, like little brushes of a feather, travel lower and lower until they meet the top of your white breast cloth. They dip inside, just into the space formed by the valley of your chest, and just as viciously as your dress, they rip the material away and toss it aside. 

        A burn was left behind at the harsh rip against your skin, but it’s quickly forgotten in exchange for Zuko massaging your mounds in his hand. Pleasure shoots through your core when he pinches the peaks, grinning against your lips at the whine you give off. 

        “Do you want someone else to touch you like this, YN?” Heavy-lidded eyes burn into your own, waiting with impatience for your answer. 

        “No, Zuko, only you- ah!” Your voice breaks off into a squeal when he pinches them once again before sliding off the bed to undress himself. Your chest heaves while you wait for him to return, and in that time, a thought flits through your mind-- you could touch yourself to relieve some of the ache. 

        The man seems to read your mind, and he tsks. “Don’t even think about it, love. You don’t want more punishments, do you?”

        The spanks, the hot touches, the rough bites. You couldn’t lie; the repercussions didn’t seem too terrible considering you would at least find release, but before your hand reaches down fast enough, Zuko’s already snagged it in a tight grip. 

        “Shit, you’re really that horny, love? Well fuck, let’s make this quick then, shall we?”

        In an instant, he drops your hand in exchange for your ankles, dragging you to the edge of the bed before forcing your legs apart. His thick length stands at attention by his stomach, leaving your juices to drip down your thighs in clear droplets. 

        Sightseeing doesn’t last long, and soon Zuko’s flipped you onto your stomach, propping up your knees and dragging a finger up the slick of your wet panties. 

        “This,” he growls, pulling aside the black lace enough to leave your throbbing core bare for him to see, “belongs to me.” Hands push your knees further apart, enough that your wetness can only drip down onto the sheets instead of trailing down your thighs. 

        Slap! A hand collides with the skin of your left cheek hard enough to have you cry out. “Say it, YN.” 

        “It belongs to you!”

        Slap! Another hit to the other cheek and you bury your face into the blankets, pleasure mingling with pain as Zuko less-than-gently rubs the abused flesh of your backside. 

        “You got that fucking right.”

        Then, before you acknowledge what’s happening, Zuko’s pushing himself deep inside you, faster than you can adjust and leaving behind a feeling no different than tearing your body in half. 

        “UNGH!” Instinctively, your back straightens and you try to crawl away, but another spank and Zuko’s bottomed out inside you. His member stretches your fluttering walls enough to the point of an unbearable burn, but luckily, he has enough mercy to allow you to adjust. 

        Tears prick your eyes and your fingers curl into the sheets, trying to bear the sudden intrusion as best as possible. And soon enough, you feel the ache begin to fade. 

        Zuko’s had enough sense to stop, hearing the way you cried under his first thrust, but he can’t bring himself to feel bad anymore when you begin pushing back against him. “Fuck,” he hisses when you purposefully clench around him. 

        Before you know it, he’s become feral. 

        The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the dark room in a frantic pattern as Zuko thrusts into you at a bruising pace. 

        “Ngh. Harder, Zuko!”

        He doesn’t disappoint, and soon, he’s driving you into the mattress with every thrust, one hand holding you in place on your hips while the other digs into your hair and yanks your head back. 

        “Shit, you’re so tight. So tight just for me, YN.”

        Mouth forming an “o” shape, you can’t even respond aas your eyes roll back from the pleasure. Your moans almost drown out the loud cracking of the headboard against the wall, and distantly, you know it could draw some curious eyes--

        “Look at your naughty little hole. Taking me so well.” 

        But you just couldn’t bring yourself to care. The feeling of his shaft dragging against your g-spot, pulling out just far enough to caress your swollen bud before plunging back inside has a coil tightening in your stomach. 

        “Fuckkkk. Zuko, I’m close!”

        “Already, love?” 

        The hand in your hair tugs hard enough to strain your scalp as Zuko pulls you up onto your knees, his chest flush to your back. With the new angle, Zuko rams into the special spot deep in your hole with every single-- holy fuck-- thrust. 

        “Who fucks you this good?” His hand untangles from your strands and reaches up around your throat. 

        “Zuko!” You throw your head back onto his shoulder and dig a hand into his sweaty hair, pulling his face down to your neck. At your silent command, his lips run up and down the skin, sucking on the skin between breaths and grunts. He follows dutifully as your body jolts back and forth, shaken violently with each drive of his hips. 

        “Who’s the only one that makes you feel like this?” 

        “Noooo- ah shit!” You can barely hold yourself up when Zuko’s hand, hot by his own command, rubs furious circles into your swollen bud. The act has you grinding into his hand while it throws you into a tailspin of pleasure, head growing foggy as you only chase a release. 

        “Nuh-uh,” he groans out, hand slowing just enough to have you whine, “say my name, love.”

        “Zuko, please! Keep going!” You have to choke out the words, the hand around your neck just tight enough to keep your breathing quick but loose so that you can speak. Your fingers tighten in his hair and around his wrist, one tugging his lips closer to your hot skin while the other keeps his hand assaulting your clit. 

        It’s too much, and you know it’s too much, but his hold on you from every end is stronger than iron. Your back arches at a particularly deep thrust that has the head of his member brushing your cervix. “Oh GOD! Zuko, I’m so close!”

        The constant clenching of your core around his length has already revealed this to him, and he keeps the fast pace that has you oh-so willing to beg.

        “Oh yeah, love? Tell me then, who owns you?”

        “More!”

        “Nope.” He pinches your clit hard enough that you spasm, but not enough to trigger your release. 

        “AGH!”

        “Say it, YN,” he captures your earlobe between his teeth. “Who owns you?”

        You can’t speak, too lost in pleasure to comprehend a word he was grunting into your ear. Each time he sinks into your dripping hole, he rubs your bud in tandem. You couldn’t even open your mouth at this point without drool dribbling down your chin. 

        “One more chance, love. Who owns you?” His teeth grit with impatience, and by now, he’s lost all rhythm. Erratically, he drives into you from behind, hips now leaving your backside red with fresh bruises. Then finally, finally, the bubble bursts.

        “ZUKO!” The scream of his name ripped through your throat just as harshly as your orgasm, liquid running down your thighs and soaking into the bed like spilled water. During this, you clench so tightly around him, Zuko almost blacks out from the feeling, releasing inside you just as fast. 

        As you fall from your high, your body begins to come back down, instantly feeling the side effects of staying in one position for too long. Your thighs whine and shiver before going just numb enough that you fall forward, Zuko having no other option than to collapse on top of you.

        His body is hot and sweaty, overheating you enough that you squirm and wiggle underneath him until he gets the hint. 

        “Oh, sorry.” 

        The phase of confidence is over as he slips out of you, allowing both of your juices to flood out of you in a delicious mixture Zuko eyes up proudly. Not long after does he fall into the space beside you, still panting and heaving in breaths while he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

        “Come here.” 

        He doesn’t have to ask twice. Cuddles with Zuko after sex were silent and peaceful, usually followed by a shared nap for rest. 

        You settle your head onto his chest, ear right over his racing heartbeat as you lay a hand on his flexing stomach. 

        “That was…” you couldn’t even answer, instead shaking your head and settling for a grin in Zuko’s direction. 

        Though his face grows red, he nods in agreement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers, “it was.”

        The dim room falls into a silence not uncommon nor uncomfortable. Though sweaty, you both stuck to each other on purpose, wanting to be close after such a time. 

        When your breathing begins to slow is when Zuko speaks up again. 

        “Hey, YN?” 

        “Yeah?” It’s more of a yawn than a question.

        “You meant what you said, right?” 

        “What do you mean?” You peer up at him, a little flustered to see such an intense look in Zuko’s normally shy gaze.

        “When you said you belonged to me. You meant it, right?”

        Oh yeah, that did happen. In the heat of the moment, you would honestly say anything for such euphoria. Now, though, you wondered if that would one day be your downfall. 

        “Umm… well….” You wanted the conversation to die out and never be brought up again, but Zuko’s emboldened gaze was insistent. 

        “Well?”

        “Y-yes,” you drop your ear back to his heart and nod your head. “I meant it.” Anything to get out of this awkward situation. 

        “Good, my love. I’m glad. Now that I own you, no man will ever touch you again. I promise.” 

        Oh God, what trap have you just fallen into?

        With that, he rolled over and draped both an arm and a leg over your body, effectively trapping you to the mattress. 

        “Good night, my queen.”

        “Good n-night, Zuko.”

                                ~~~

        “Fire Lord Zuko.” 

        His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was you. Your beautiful face, serene and peaceful in your slumber, framed by the sunshine peeking through the drapes behind your head. Ever so carefully, he untangled himself from around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead before ushering the guard to the hall. 

        “Did you manage to find him?”

        “Yes, my lord.” The soldier averted his gaze as Zuko tightened his robe and shoved on a pair of sandals. Once he appeared modest enough for the rest of the castle, the guard began to lead him through the corridors to a dank stairway. “We’ve left him in cell seven for you.” 

        “Good. Now I can show him what happens when you try to go after my love.”

Bed Head (Kuroo x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Kuroo’s hair was an undeniable nuisance. It was a shame, though, because it was here to stay. 

A/N: I will murder writer’s block with my bare hands, just watch me. Anyways, thank you guys so much for 200 followers! Please enjoy!

Word count: 1406

        It was a peaceful morning. The sun was peeking through your closed blinds and the bird’s nest outside your window was chirping happily at the day. All was well and calm. And your boyfriend… well, let’s just say his hair decided it wanted to be your breakfast.

       “Pluh,” you spat out the strands, “ugh, gross Tetsu! Get your rat’s nest away from my face!” His head untucked from your chin and he served you a nasty glare, repositioning from his place on your chest. After he nestled into your side, you could finally breathe a full gasp of air, something you had wished to do all night but couldn’t. Kuroo had an annoying fascination with cuddling directly on top of you, claiming he wanted to “keep you warm like a blanket.” It felt like sleeping under a boulder. 

       “You know this is mostly your fault anyways.” He peeled a hand away from your hips to gesture at his wild tufts sticking out here and there. 

       “Oh please, your hair’s been a homemade explosion for longer than I’ve been around.” You smirk at him and begin prodding at the unmoving strands. They bounced right back with every poke you gave; it was fascinating. 

       “Well I know that, but you’re the only one who’s been making it worse lately.” Swatting your hands away, he gave you a smug look after his whisper. Your body hand tensed under his touch while your eyes widened. 

       “I certainly hope so,” you softly smile back and he hums. Kuroo’s long, rough fingers return to your sides and softly caress the skin there while the room quiets once more. You’re not too ticked off anymore, so you tug his head back down to your chest and embrace the feeling of his grin against your clothed front. As you silently stare at the ceiling while basking in your boyfriend’s warm presence, a fiber of pure evil itself pokes you in the eye after he readjusts his face into your collarbone. 

       “That’s it! I’m done!” You push him off and decide it’s time to finally get ready for the day. It’s six a.m. on a Saturday. You don’t have shit to do, but you certainly don’t want to stick around with rooster head fwapping you in the face every two seconds. “Next time your hair chokes me out while I yawn, I’m shaving it all off.” You point accusingly at his mop of black hair and glare at it while readjusting your pajamas, which consisted of underwear and Kuroo’s shirt from last night. 

       “Oh please,” he simpers at you, “if you did that, you would have nothing to tug on when we’re-” 

       “Shut up!” You throw the nearest pillow at his face while your own blossoms bright red. A deep chuckle echoes throughout the room while you turn away to gather a towel and clothes for a morning shower. 

       “Come on, YN, it’s only six, come back to bed.” The mattress squeaks behind you while you dig through a dresser for some pants. “I’ll make it worth your while.” His sly, husky voice is closer than before as he makes his way over to you. 

       “Nothing is worth getting stabbed in the eye again,” you try to ignore the feeling of his gaze watching you while his presence looms closer. “How is your hair even that sharp?” you mumble before locating your target. 

       “Ah-ha!” you shout victoriously before whipping around with a pair of yoga pants in hand. 

       Plmpf.

       Oops.

       Your decided clothing for the day shitwhips Kuroo across the face, who yelps in surprise. The room grows dangerously quiet as he holds his cheek from the smack and looks over at you. Run.

       It was a simple suggestion, so you listened. Letting out a terrified screech, you tear cheek down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door in front of a boyfriend in hot pursuit. 

       “It was a love tap, don’t get so pissy,” you exclaim while dropping your clothes onto the counter, heaving gasps of air from the small-but-sudden distance run. The door opens next to you- shit, the locks- ominously slow, hinges creaking as a dark presence stands motionless in the dim entryway. The fuck is he doing?

       You stare at the man with raised brows and hands on your hips. “What are you, a serial killer?” The serious look on Kuroo’s face drops and his fingers rub the side of his face miserably. 

       “That hurt, YN!” he pouts sullenly before stepping into the bathroom and hugging you close, rubbing his face against yours. “I need a kiss and a shower to make it feel better.”

       “Oh really?” He nods shortly. You shake your head and laugh. “All right, you big baby. Come on.”

                               ~~~

       The shower was hot and heavy for one reason: Kuroo hated cold showers with a passion. No, nothing saucy happened. You guys just washed yourselves, brushed your teeth, did the deed, washed yourselves again, then dried off and got out. Nothing out of the norm. Except when you stood in front of the mirror brushing your hair while Kuroo hugged you from behind, you couldn’t help but watch his own hair. He wasn’t wrong; it was fun to yank on in the heat of the moment. But seriously, even after a thirty-minute, finger-pruning shower, his dripping, black locks still pointed proudly atop his head in every direction. How the hell-

       “Let me fuck with your hair,” you demanded, eyes still locked on his head.

       Kuroo snickers behind you, arms tightening around your waist. “Isn’t that what just happened?” he asks cheekily, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You scoff and whirl around to face him, brush left forgotten on the counter. 

       “That’s not what I meant,” you roll your eyes, “I mean, let me, you know.” Your hands waved around wild, unknowable gestures while your boyfriend raised his brow at you.

       “Yes?”

       “Let me, like, gel it up or something,” you shrugged, reaching up to comb through the bang dangling in front of his eye. Kuroo chuckled lowly, and you stared frightened as he got louder and louder, turning into a devious cackle as he busted a gut. 

       “Okay.” He stopped laughing suddenly with a dead-serious face. “Go ahead, give it your best shot.” You cracked a hesitant smile, still shaken by his howls. After being given the go-ahead, you gathered gels, hairsprays, mousse, hell, even a straightener. Whatever you could scavenge that could do something to hair, you grabbed it. 

       At last, you hauled the basket full of products back to your room and dropped it next to an unaffected Kuroo, who watched you with bored eyes. If anyone were to see you right now, they would think you had set up a barbershop in your own room. You even had scissors, but you didn’t want to tell Kuroo about those. 

       “Are you ready?” You held up a bottle of hairspray with devious eyes, but he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

       “Do your worst,” he smiled back at you calmly. 

       “Oh, I will.”

                               ~~~

       Kuroo’s bedhead was forged by the gods. It was unbreakable, unyielding, and was given birth to directly next to Thor’s insurmountable hammer. You weren’t worthy. It was absolute and utter bullshit.

       “What the fuck is wrong with your hair?!” You shouted angrily, throwing the empty container of hair gel at the ground. It rolled and joined the group of used hairspray canisters. 

       “I'm untameable, baby. Don’t know what to tell ya.” Kuroo shrugged before rising from your bed and embracing you. You clenched your jaw against his chest but gave in to his hug.

       “It’s not fair,” you mumbled into his shoulder while he nodded and rubbed your back comfortingly. You pulled away slightly to glare at his black tufts. They were in their usual shape, just covered in shiny gel and crispy hairspray. I will beat you one day.

       “Whatcha doing?” 

       “Nothing.” You huddled back into his embrace, knowing you were fighting a one-sided battle. Resistance was futile. You groan and nuzzle your cheek closer to his chest while he chuckles softly. 

       Long live the bed head.

Uh hi Im new here but I read your red thing of nothingness and could you write a alternative ending where reader actually cuts the red string, Im on an angst crave hehe you don't have to if you don't want to thank you!

AHHHHHHH DONT MAKE ME CRYYYYY

i mean....

like....

or....

you could just....

pretend the second part doesn't exist and consider that the ending?

ALSO

i totally get it

so here's the gist of how i would write that

she snips the string

and kenma's too late.

both stagger back, and yn's fucking bawling at this point

kenma rushes to gather up the string in his trembling hands but it just disintegrates into dust (bc fanfic magic yaayyyy)

he's trembling so hard that he can't even breathe and his gaze rises, so slowly until he sees you. god, his heart's just fucking aching at this point, why would you ever do this?

but he knows why--he's known why for so long now.

and you, god, every emotion ran through you like a train. you've got half a sob gathering in your throat and clogging up the rest of the damn so violently that youre gasping.

it hurts. u can both feel it. the loss. the gaping hole that's left

kenma watches as you shudder, shaking the desk so hard the scissors fall to the floor.

He knows its his fault. You know that too.

yet, evil and fucking cruel as it is, he feels betrayed that you could do this.

he has no right to say it.

but how could you do this?

but he has NO right to say that.

and you tell him so. you mouth it because the pain lodged in your throat doesn't even allow a whisper. don't you fucking dare, you say. I had every right to do this. You have HER. I had NO ONE.

and he wants to say 'you had me' and 'you've had me all along,' but he can't

he wilts to the floor, gaze locked on the pair of scissors, fist at his chest. like pressing hard enough would stop the bleeding.

you lean back against the desk, white-knuckled hands gripping so tightly as your eyes find the ceiling. You close them.

neither of you can bear to look the other in the eye anymore. seeing what you've done to one another is unbearable.

betrayals of the worst kind.

is taglists open, sorry if it’s not ,,,

the reborn taglist is still open! If u were talking about taglists in general those are open too, so no need to be sorry🥺

If you’re requests are open, do you think you could do a part 2 of the yandere Michael Gray fic? I really loved it! Have a good day/night :))

Dudeeee I’ve been dying to write more Yandere Michael Gray fics but istg my mind is like a dried-up well rn. If u got any ideas, I’d love to hear em!

Ps I’m glad you liked it!

Can I just say - I just found your blog and I'm already in love with your writing. You're so talented

🥺Thank you so much, this just made my day! I’m glad you like my writing💜💜💖

I love your writing, thank you for taking the time to make and share it with us 💖 I hope your schooling’s going well! Good luck and please make sure to take care of yourself too!

You’re such a sweetheart🥺🥺 thank you so much! Honestly, I just logged back onto here for the first time in weeks and I really forgot how much support you guys have given me💜💜 it makes me feel really special and I hope you’re all doing great too☺️

(Ps: school is going great! How about you?💕)

Calling Him by His Name (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)

(Third Gym Version) Part 1

Bokuto, Akaashi, Hinata

A/N: Yes yes I am the writer who diPPed for a solid week, and I apologize for that y’all😔 Here is a lil text post to say sorry for not existing and THANK YOU FOR 1.8k FOLLOWERS BC HOW TF DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN WHILE I POST LITERALLY NOTHING— enjoy!

Could I please request a one shot of Garou meeting up with a childhood friend? Said childhood friend grew up to be an freelance assassin to financially support their younger siblings, and proven to always be freakishly strong such as hugging a younger Garou too hard one time to the point they broke a rib. Sorry if this is too long or doesn’t meet qualifications, I don’t know where to find the rules list😅

Ah it's all good bc there's no rules list, we just go with the flow here, i'll write it if i wanna write it, but you can submit anything to my inbox

cute idea for sure! I just hate writing overpowered readers with garou. In my opinion it's so much cuter when the reader is implicitly weaker so much to the fact that he feels the need to go overboard protecting them. I'm all about dodgin them mary sues😤

one idea for this tho abt the broken rib is that garou totally feels the need to prove she isn't as strong as him anymore. "Hug me, do it. I can fucking take it, I swear! HUG ME!" and like he's causing a scene in the frozen aisle of a grocery store or some shit. Some grannies walking by are all like "well don't just stand there, hug that poor boy!" and yn is just like "garou ur a fuckin dumbass"

totally get the freelance assassin drift tho, I love those plots i just can't write em worth shit :( i just imagine that for this fic garou had no clue that yn grew up to be like that, so he feels extremely proud that she goes against status quo like he does, but also deep down he's scared that she'll be in danger so he'll start following her on jobs.

once she gets contracted to hunt and kill the hero-killer (i hope that's garou's name i totally forgot), and while garou is following her YN is just running in circles looking for this bastard only to feel a pair of eyes and disappear into a bathroom where garou can't follow. When he tries to find her he hears the click of a gun and turns to see YN aiming at him. when she sees his face, tho, she sudddenly can't breathe. cue ANGST

Yn and garou avoid each other, both feeling betrayed at the other's secret lives a lil bit, but also ashamed to be caught. Finally, garou shows up one night while yn is tucking in her siblings and she whispers to him that she has to do it--for them.

garou's hand would slip into hers, and she squeezes it

fin