He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings For Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)
Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>
He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)
*GIF not mine*
A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!
Word count: 4856
Billy Hargrove:
“I don’t like him.”
Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway.
One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly.
However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway.
You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence.
It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.
But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed.
Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you.
The prude.
“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest.
“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats.
Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation.
Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning.
The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap.
“YN-”
You flinched.
“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him.
Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry.
No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though.
For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you.
He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair.
“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”
The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”
You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”
Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop.
Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head.
“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”
“Sorry, sir.”
And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.
It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin.
Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too.
By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”
He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”
“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”
Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom.
He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter.
“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker.
Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school.
Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.
Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?
He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…
Fuck. He hated this.
How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?
“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand.
“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”
“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.”
You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered.
Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously.
“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”
“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”
“Easily.”
You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”
“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”
Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans.
Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted.
He needed you.
Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes.
“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”
It’s me. It has to be.
She’s talking about-
“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”
“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”
“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned.
Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.”
-Me.
The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-
She’s in love with me.
All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.
He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.
All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.
He could fucking have it, too.
She’s in love with me.
Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.
“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed.
“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”
“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”
For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp.
“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud.
He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it.
The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.
Because you were just so fucking perfect.
Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him.
He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature.
A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”
The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.
But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more.
And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted.
Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name.
When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face.
Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”
Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?”
Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.
When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”
Monday. Fucking Monday?
Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything.
She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-
Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly.
Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers.
The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days.
But who fucking cared, right?
Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?
And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway.
Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly.
Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away.
Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you.
And catch you he did.
God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish.
Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent.
She’s in love with me.
He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you.
He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.
So fucking cute.
Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes.
“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”
Come back to me. I need you.
Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”
“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance.
Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons.
When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face.
“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you.
“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back.
“Going somewhere?”
“I guess not.”
Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”
“Umm nope, don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”
“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare.
“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly.
“I didn’t mean it-”
“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears.
You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?
So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.
He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips.
Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source.
“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”
“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”
His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?
If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you.
“But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”
You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?
“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”
You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek.
“Just say it again.”
His eyes darted over your face, desperate.
“Please.”
Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another.
You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.
Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head.
“I’m in love with you, Billy.”
His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Finally. Fucking Finally.
You were his, completely.
He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.
His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.
“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours.
In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.
Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth.
“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.
“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly.
“Well, I might-”
“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.
“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.”
And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged.
Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly.
“You owe me.”
Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill.
“Keep the change.”
“With pleasure.”
More Posts from Oreosmama and Others
Dude you are like the best writer. I literally did not know that you wrote literally every one of my favorite fics until I finally downloaded the Tumblr App. You’re literally amazing, definitely keep writing (no pressure ofc). Tons of love ❤️❤️❤️
oh my goodness you're too sweet! we must be on the same wavelengths if u like all my fics--i like ur style😎
thank you so much anon! i am summoning the will rn!
Hey, I don't know if I sent this already (if I did, I'm sorry), but do you still write for OPM?
Nah, you only sent this in once, so you’re totally fine👌 I do still write for OPM, but my request box is currently closed💜
Side note: if you do send in a request, that’s totally okay. I’m just trying to balance out my life and this blog right now, so it will take me a while to get to your request and get it out.
I can relate
FUCK
I want this job
Petty Competition (Kageyama x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: After you get a new pet in your home, Kageyama can’t help but feel a little neglected after a while. It’s all Snickers’ fault.
A/N: Thank you all so much for 400 followers! I’m so glad so many people like my stuff! Here’s a funny little imagine I got an idea for from this prompt by @otpdisaster once again. I hope you guys like it! Thanks again!
Word count: 1078
Kageyama has never been the best of friends with your new pet Snickers.
“Hey YN-”
“Woof!”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Snickers was an innocent golden retriever puppy, but your boyfriend just knew his father was Satan, and he was bred in the seventh depth of hell.
“Tobio, he hasn’t done anything, just leave him be,” you would scold before allowing the dog to shamble up into your lap. Innocent, my ass, Kageyama would think while watching you pet him. Ever since you got the dog, he took up all your attention, all your time. Well, on the other hand, it’s not like your boyfriend needed constant affection but… oh fuck it, who was he kidding. He was jealous over a damn puppy.
“He’s glaring at me, look!” Kageyama points an accusing finger and sneers at the dog, who returns the look before tucking its head back into your lap. With a raised brow, you shake your head at your boyfriend and scratch behind Snickers’ ears.
“Stop being so ridiculous, babe,” you roll your eyes before lowering your face to the inhabitant of your lap. “You’re not evil, are you?” You smile widely at the sight of his tail wagging rapidly while he pants in your face. “Oh no you’re not, no you’re not! You’re a good boy!”
Kageyama narrows his eyes at the gut-churning scene before him and glances away with a scoff. The demon spawn currently reveling in all your love looks over and makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like snort all the while trying to lick your face.
“YN, did you hear that?!” Kageyama jumps up from his seat and waggles his finger at the pet, “That smug bastard just laughed at me!” You ignore him in favor of lifting your puppy in the air and hugging him close to your chest. The love fest currently happening on the sofa across from him lasts for quite a while, and your boyfriend can only stew in his own anger in the meantime. Then, finally he comes up with a distraction technique. It was perfect!
“Love.” You perk up at the nickname. It’s only used on rare occasions, when Kageyama is nearly dying inside from a lack of affection. Right now, he feels pretty desperate. Desperate enough to whip out that trump card, at least. “How about we watch a movie, hmm?” His eyes are dark, and the synthetic smile on his face evokes a chill down your spine.
“Umm, okay,” you gulp and slowly set down your dog, who lightly whines at the action. Kageyama smirks, only chipping at the tip of the revenge iceberg. “What movie?” Your voice is tight, but you’re not exactly as nervous as you sound. He can tell by the way you bite your lip.
“You choose, love.” His whisper warms the pit of your stomach, and you nod as if in a trance.
“Okay,” you repeat, getting up and turning to leave the room. Snickers pops right up and begins to follow you, only for you to usher him back.
“Stay here, boy,” you pat the top of his soft, fuzzy head, “I’ll be quick.” With a smile at your dog and a blush at Kageyama’s parting wink, you exit your living room in search of the night’s entertainment.
Now, it wasn’t often that your boyfriend had a day off practice to spend the night with you, so he had to make every second count. A movie was the perfect opportunity to soak up all the love you could provide. At least, that always used to be the case before you adopted the leech. He couldn’t remember the last time you ran your fingers through his hair instead of Snickers’ while he relaxed on your lap.
“You’re not winning this,” he hisses at the snarling scoundrel on your carpet, lifting up out of his seat to reinforce his glare.
“Woof!” The dog bites back, plopping his rump down directly in front of Kageyama’s feet and staring back up at him with endless, black pupils. “Woof, woof!”
“Woof, yourself!” Kageyama barks back, baring his teeth threateningly. Snickers’ rears back on his paws and lifts his butt into the air, shaking his behind anxiously while he growls.
“Woof, woof!”
“Woof, woof to you too!” The resident human in the room slips off his armchair and drops onto the ground, crossing his legs and engaging in a completely justified, but overall nonsensical, argument.
“Ruff!”
“Ruff you, you furry fuck!”
Snickers huffs in his face and barks louder, splashing dog drool every which way. Kageyama gags at the feeling and frantically wipes it away while jeering at the sac of fur.
“Eww! Gross, you lumpy bastard!”
“Woof!” Snickers places his paws into the volleyball player’s lap and yelps in his face. In return, the boy bonks his forehead against the dog’s own and returns the shout.
Five minutes pass. Nothing changes.
“Ruff! Ruff, ruff!” the puppy rumbles.
“Right back at you, you son of a bitch!” Kageyama grumbles back, his tone deep and frustrated. He presses his face closer into Snickers’ soft snoot. “You fluffy-faced, attention-stealing piece of-”
“What the hell are you two doing?” Both rivals stand at attention at the sound of your voice, separating and spinning to face you. Your face is scrunched up in utter confusion at the happenings on your living room floor. The skin under your eye twitches and a vein in your forehead pops. Snickers is the first to act, barking excitedly and hopping up to meet you. The joy is short-lived, as your beloved ball of fluff is flung back onto the sofa cushions as Kageyama scrambles up and tackles you in a tight squeeze.
Tucking his face into your neck, he grumbles, “It all went to shit the second you wanted a dog.” You giggle and rub his toned back up and down, tensing when he presses a flurry small kisses to your collarbone.
“Oh c’mon, it looks like you two were bonding when I first came in-”
“Never!”
“Woof!”
After the Breakup (BNHA Headcanons)
*GIFs not mine*
A/N: Welp, I was going to write for more people but when I started for these two babes-for-characters I guess I just couldn’t stop🤷♀️. Not quite sure how these headcanons turned out but hey, hope you like ‘em! (Btw they get a lil saucy, but I’m just in that mood so y’all are just gonna have to accept them for what they are🤷♀️)
Word count: 2120
Bakugou Katsuki:
Wants to ignore you
Definitely the type to fold his arms and turn away when you enter a room or scoff when you talk to another guy
But when you walk away the guy is being given a glare that could put him six feet under
Acts cold to you--not exactly like how he did before he was interested in you, like how he calls everyone “extras,” but more so like he just sneers at you for no reason and rolls his eyes everytime you speak
Lil pomeranian boi just misses you really badly
But he hates the idea that you have that much power over him that you could draw him back to your side in a matter of seconds. It frustrates him how much he wants you back
At one point he’s tired of having nightmares of you leaving night after night--especially now that he doesn’t have you to comfort him after waking up in a cold sweat.
So he’ll climb out of bed and stomp over to your door
And proceed to stare at it for about twenty minutes with his mind and heart running marathons
What does he say?
What does he do?
Would you be mad? Sad? Disappointed?
Or… would you even care that he was still in love with you?
It all becomes too much, and soon enough he just has to know
So he raises a fist to pound on your door loud enough to wake the entire floor
And the door opens before he even makes contact.
“Katsuki?”
“YN.” Surprisingly, Bakugou feels all too calm at this moment, like he knows exactly what to say.
“What are you doing here?”
A muscle in Bakugou’s chin twitches as he struggles to find the exact words. He wanted to make his point but he also didn’t want you to slam the door in his face. “I… Look. You told me that we should both move on and that I should get over you.”
“Katsuki-”
“But here’s the thing, YN,” when he takes a step forward, you take a step back and he physically flinches at the movement, “I don’t want to.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to get over us and move on to other people. I don’t want to see you with other guys when I know I could make you happier. That I have made you happier.”
“Katsuki,” your face softens, “you don’t have to-”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do, YN. I’m not letting you go, understood? Try to move on all you want, I’m not going to let you. I’ll scare off any man you even talk to if I have to-”
Two hands piled over his mouth shut him up instantly and you lean past Bakugou to glance both ways down the hall before yanking him inside your room.
As soon as the door’s shut, you turn to him and shake your head with the smallest little smile.
“Katsuki, you dumbass. I was just going to leave my room to give you the same lecture.”
“Huh?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” you cup his cheek, reveling in the foreign look of shock on the blond’s face, “so no need for anymore threats on guys I may or may not go out with… unless you’re really willing to go after yourself that badly.”
Relief floods through Bakugou’s body, warming him up with the thoughts that he didn’t need to worry about truly losing you at all--as it turns out, you agreed you were his just as much as he did.
“So… we’re back together?”
“Yep, unless…”
Oh shit
“Unless what?” Bakugou froze under your touch and reached a hand up to secure your palm against his cheek. “What is it?”
It almost pissed him off that you were able to laugh so freely while he was in an obvious state of panic.
“Well, I was gonna suggest break-up sex but judging by just how badly you want to get back together, it seems like that’s off the table.”
Oh. Oh you damned little thing.
Such a fucking tease.
“Nah,” Bakugou shook his head and before you knew it, you were being forced down onto your bed, wrists locked tightly above you. “You’ve got the right idea. Break-up sex tonight, and tomorrow we can make up all day long.”
Kirishima Eijirou:
On the surface, Kirishima is the same old manly man everyone knows him to be
But his eyes no longer have that same glint
And that smile just always seems seconds away from faltering
His red hair seems less spiky than usual, and those bags under his eyes are just the biggest tell
Kirishima is broken.
He’s not grinning and holding your hand as he walks into class anymore, escorting you to your seat with a perhaps almost overdone kiss. Instead, he almost slumps to his own seat, avoiding eye contact with as many people as possible.
But the instant you step into the classroom, you feel it.
You sit in the front row, giving him plenty of freedom to watch you for the entire day.
Kirishima thinks it’s natural, it’s harmless. He’s just trying to get over an ex--everyone knows how hard that is.
But he’s just making things worse. He tortures himself by constantly standing to attention anytime you speak. Or anytime your name is mentioned. Or anytime someone who remotely looks like you walks by him.
No, he’s not doing great at this “moving on” thing, and he knows that.
But part of it’s because he just can’t believe that you’re not struggling to do it either.
Kirishima knows none of those kisses and “I love yous” were lies. He knows you meant every single hug and smile you ever gave him. Every time you said you cared about him, he could see in your eyes that you meant it wholeheartedly.
So maybe you could see how he wondered why loving you was suddenly so painful.
Because now you were broken up and all this love he had to give you had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. It was like the love he had for you was useless.
Kirishima hated those words, that thought. That being in love with you for all those months was useless, and that it just needed to be flushed away.
All those plans he had of being with you, becoming superheroes at one another’s side and raising a family together. Planning ahead so far to even name the bridesmaids and groomsmen of your wedding and the names of your children.
The future house and the rooms of that house, how many there would be and what kinds they were. You needed a library, one he was all too ready to build for you and he wanted a mancave you would surely supply with snacks.
All of that was useless.
But Kirishima didn’t want to think so. So he came up with a plan.
And when you walked into class the next day, Kirishima sat in your assigned seat, and you knew you smelled mischief.
“Eijirou… whatcha doin’?”
When Kirishima raised his eyes to yours, the corner of his mouth turned up just an inch.
“Sitting.”
You purse your lips. “I see that. But you know you could do the same exact thing in your own seat, right?”
The conversation wasn’t exactly a spectacle--the only other people in the room were in the back of the class talking amongst themselves distractedly. No one would bother to interfere.
“Well, YN,” Kirishima leaned back, “I kinda want to trade places for a day. I wanna sit in your seat and act all nonchalant, pretending like I actually wanted us to break up-”
You could hear his voice growing choked up and moved to stop him. “Eijirou-”
“-and you can sit in my seat and do as I do. Remember how happy we were and how much you said you loved me. And how I broke up with you anyway.”
It was cold, like the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees. The boy everyone thought didn’t have a single mean bone in his body seemed to flip a switch in himself, turning emotionless in the blink of an eye.
For him to act like you never loved him almost hurt as much as when you broke up with him. In all honesty, you thought it was for the best at the time. You felt it would help both of you focus on your studies so that you could become better heroes than anything.
You thought that’s what Kirishima wanted, and that you were doing what was best for him. But you were wrong.
It seemed all he really wanted was you--being a hero had moved to second.
“Eijirou…”
So the question was did you want him just as badly?
“YN…”
Becoming a hero was the entire reason you came to this school, and was also the reason you broke off one of the best relationships you’d ever had. You’d thought you were making things better.
But had it really helped anything?
“Eijirou, I…”
Your grades had actually dropped. Terribly. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually got quality sleep.
And judging by Kirishima’s dark circles, he was suffering the same side effects.
These weren’t the symptoms of withdrawal--they were just the signs of a mistake.
So as you looked into Kirishima’s eyes, hard enough to see past all the barriers he had put up, you could see the same questions you kept asking yourself.
Why did I ever think this was worth it? Why did I ever think this would help me be happy?
The answer was it didn’t.
And trial and error was a pain in the ass.
“Eijirou, I’m sorry.” Your brows drew together in regret as you lowered your gaze, reaching over to grab the hand Kirishima had tensed on the desktop. “Maybe… no. Breaking up was definitely a mistake, and I wasn’t even thinking of the shit I was going to put both of us through by doing that. I’m sorry.”
But just as his mouth opened to respond, the bell rang and twenty other students flooded in in a mad dash to get to their seats.
Before you moved to claim Kirishima’s seat as your own, you made a split second decision that you hoped could display even a little of what you were thinking.
Kirishima froze at the kiss, his eyes going wide as you tilted his chin up to give yourself access. His lips were soft, just as you’d dreamt about for the last five nights, and tasted like that damned chapstick he always wore.
And when you pulled away, he tried to reach out to stop you but you stepped away from his desperate hands, instead navigating your way back to his desk.
Kirishima was frantic, spinning in your seat to get a look at your blushing face while his own mouth stayed open enough to catch a couple flies. The second your lips quirked up into a smirk, he almost jerked back with whiplash.
Fucking hell, she did not just-
“Okay class,” Aizawa slumped into the classroom with his usual cheerfulness. “I want you to take a look at-wait.” The teacher paused for just a second to take note of Kirishima’s back facing him and you just five seats away whistling and observing the ceiling with interest.
“YLN, Kirishima, get back to your original seats for God’s sake. There’s no time for this.”
All too ready, Kirishima rose from your chair and made his way towards you with eyes unsteady and hungry.
Tonight you would explain just what exactly you were thinking when you decided to break up with Kirishima out of the blue. I mean, you seriously almost gave him a heart attack.
Directly after school though…
Kirishima caught your arm as you moved to walk past him and threw you a look that would stick in your mind for the rest of class. Just as fast, he released you completely and dropped into his seat, eyes locked on your every move as you slid into your own.
Oh yeah. Directly after school, he was going to make you pay for the pain you put his mind through with your body.
Just a Little Confession (Kuroo x Reader)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: A confession to Kenma doesn’t end as well as you thought it would, but luckily a tall, kind third-year is there to save the day. Still, confessions suck, and relationships are hard to read sometimes.
Author’s Note: I kinda love this one, so have fun and enjoy! (Edit: hehehe SO... this fanfic was... a little more personal than most, so if that’s why it seems a little... different, that’s why. I’m glad you guys have liked it tho!)
Word count: 4635
Glancing around, you instantly noticed that none of your friends were in this class. It was your first year in high school, but you didn’t know a single soul around you. Hesitantly, you sat at the assigned desk the teacher had given you, and flushed in discomfort while you observed the groups of companions around you. You had never really been an extrovert, more often choosing to stay in your own personal bubble, so this was just a bad situation from the start.
Soon, your painful solitude was quickly demolished when the bell rang and a boy with chin-length black hair sat in front of you. You hadn't seen him before, but judging by the way his shoulders hunched over and his head tipped down, you assumed he didn’t have any friends in the class either. This was your chance to finally make a friend, you thought, reaching out your hand to tap his shoulder and introduce yourself, but the teacher swiftly interrupted your idea.
“Good morning and welcome to Nekoma, class. Today, we will start off slowly with an icebreaker.” The room broke out into a collective groan, hushed instantly with a small glare from the teacher. “It’s not that bad, I promise.” Now, she spoke with a forced smile, and you hid your small grin behind a hand. “All you need is a piece of paper and a partner.” Uh oh, that did it. After those words, everyone in the room performed the cliche “look to your bestie for project-partner safety” move, and now you were stuck in your lonesome, huffing and holding your chin in your hand as you waited for the teacher to notice your seclusion. Making eye contact, the teacher at once suggested, “Kozume, YLN, why don’t you two work together?” Raising your eyebrow, you watched as your original plan reformed itself, as the black-haired boy in front of you twisted in his chair to look back at you. Giving him a soft smile and introducing yourself, you observed as he quietly did the same while retrieving a piece of paper from his bag and setting it down on your desk. While making small talk, you could tell that you had finally found a friend, or at least someone to converse with, in the class, all thanks to the both of you being loners. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together, you thought to yourself victoriously.
~~~
To your own satisfaction, you and Kenma had become great friends, sharing an interest in video games and in dodging responsibilities. Most days, you needed a friend exactly like him. If you were panicking for a test, his lax attitude would calm you down. If you were happy for no reason, he would faintly return your wide grin, only for it to drop a second later as he would glance away and ask why you looked so weird. If you were miserable without a say, he would speak carefully and calmly with you, not truly showing an interest, but attempting to, and that was all that mattered to you.
One time, you vividly remember him indirectly complimenting you after you had spoken badly of yourself. Pouting like a child, you had crossed your arms to cover your body as you stated, “God, I look terrible today. I’m too fat.”
Kenma had rolled his eyes and replied, “Don’t say that about yourself, it’s not true. You shouldn’t be so mean to yourself, I think you’re cool.” He stated it without remorse, as though you could not prove him wrong, as if he believed it to be fact and nothing less. That’s when it began; that was when your crush on Kenma sprouted. No guy had ever complimented you before, so his words struck you like an arrow to the chest.
That night, after rambling about the day’s events in your diary, you slammed the book closed and stared up at the ceiling, replaying the scene in your head like a movie. Growing red at the memory, you hugged your journal to your chest as you thought to yourself, this is so not okay.
~~~
A year had passed, and Kenma was now in a different class as you, not that it truly got him off your mind. Sure, you didn’t think of him as often, but he still lingered there. You harbored feelings for him that could never be taken away, only because he was the first guy who had shown interest in you, and it felt good to be wanted. At this point, you still acknowledged the fact that last year, your relationship had been purely platonic and nothing more. But that never stopped you from believing it could evolve into something more romantic, and you held onto that slim chance like a lifeline. Until today.
The day had begun particularly terrible. First, you were on your period. Hormones were crazy and you felt like exploding on someone at any second. Second, you had just taken a test that you were not very confident in the result of, and just wanted to go to lunch and eat your sorrows away. Then one of the few acquaintances that you did have in your class this year, who had also been in the same class as you last year, decided that she could cheer you up with some delightful information about your old friend (and secret crush).
“Hey YN, did you hear that Kenma got a girlfriend.” Your heart stopped for a split second, and suddenly your throat decided to close up for no reason whatsoever.
Intaking a small breath, you replied, “Wow, that’s great for him.” But it hurt you, and you cursed yourself for being so affected by this little tidbit of information. You hadn’t talked to him in over a year, so you had no right to be… jealous? Or disappointed? One of the two.
“Yeah, she’s the daughter of the substitute in…” Her voice faded away as she rambled on about things you just didn’t need to hear right now. You gazed off into the distance, suddenly finding the chalkboard behind her very interesting. Looks like it could use a good cleaning, you thought to yourself, tilting your head slightly to view it from a different angle. What a magnificent piece of- you were cut off from your “lights on, but nobody’s home” moment when the lunch bell finally rang. Flinching at the clangor that suddenly occurred, you sped off to sweet, glorious foodland, i.e. the cafeteria, leaving your friend in the dust while simultaneously cutting her off mid sentence. Now that’s multitasking.
~~~
At last, you arrived home for the day, and quickly made your way to your room. An urge to cry arose the instant you saw your diary. It was tempting you to write down what had happened today, but you really didn’t want evidence of this day forever. He has a girlfriend, he has a girlfriend, he has a girlfriend. Like a song with the worst chorus ever, that thought played on repeat in your head. Luckily, you decided to change the station, grabbing your earbuds from your nightstand and plugging in both ends of the cord accordingly, thankfully on the first try. As every normal teenager does, you instinctively choose a song that both forces you in your feels even worse and also makes you feel better, like you weren’t alone in this unjustified pain. We haven’t talked in months, so it’s understandable that he’s moved on. Especially since we weren’t in a relationship in the first place, you thought to yourself, feeling like a mature adult handling the situation rationally. But no matter how many times you whispered that in your head louder than the music in your ears, it never stopped you from hugging your childish, but necessary, stuffed animal tighter and allowing a few tears to slip.
~~~
Thank goodness, your sport was finally in season, and you were ready to play. After working your butt off and inspiring yourself with more than a few videos on YouTube, you were totally ready to kick names and take ass, and no one would stop you. You had after-school practice today, and both you and your teammate chatted happily as you walked into the cafeteria to refill your water bottles. As soon as you reached your destination, however, you heard a familiar, monotonous voice greet you.
“Hey YN,” Kenma spoke, and you just about gave yourself whiplash while swinging around to see him give you a small smile and wave before continuing past with his tall, third year companion. You hadn’t uttered a word, but instead opted to give a meek wave as your voice caught in your throat. After watching him disappear into a crowd on his way to the gym for volleyball practice, your teammate cheekily elbowed you in the side and waggled her eyebrows at you suggestively with a sly smile.
“He totally likes you,” she teased while resealing her water bottle. You synthetically guffawed at the thought, frantically shaking your head at the thought, but your eyes, still wide from watching Kenma walk away, begged to differ.
“He doesn’t like me,” you refuted, but the butterflies in your stomach began swarming with hope at the thought.
“He totally does!” She supported her opinion with an encouraging smile.
“No he doesn’t, because he has a girlfriend, and I like him,” you confessed, and your mood took a swan dive at the memory. Oh right, he has a girlfriend.
“Oh,” was your teammate’s only response, and the subject was quickly dropped from conversation. And even though she seemed to give in to that fact quite instantly, you weren’t so sure anymore. Her words enlivened something inside you, gave you a bubble of hope that panged at your heart. Uh oh, I have an idea, you thought, and it was bad. Really bad. But you liked it.
~~~
For the first time in your life, you decided to confess to a guy you liked. You had never done it before, but all your friends always talk about their less-than-ideal confessions, and now it was your turn. It’s a part of life everyone must experience: an action born of pure humility with just a sprinkle of hope that led to either a relationship or self-loathing. Either way, you believed you were ready for it. Sadly, no one’s ever really prepared, and you just kind of have to go for it. So that’s what you were doing. Maybe it was a bad idea, but it also felt like a rite of passage into becoming a true high schooler. The shame or pride coming from the other end, whichever you received, would contain a life-lesson for relationships. Plus, you had weighed the odds of whether he had broken up with his girlfriend, and felt pretty confident in your results. And so, there you were, restlessly shifting from foot-to-foot in the middle of the school cafeteria, waiting to intercept Kenma on his path to practice. Slightly lightheaded, you took a few deep breaths as you allowed your eyes to survey the bunch of students around you for the blond-and-black haired volleyball player. Finally, you spotted him, even though his shorter stature had made it difficult.
“Kenma!” you called out victoriously, grabbing his attention in a flash. His gold eyes seeked out the voice, and a small smile grew on his face when he saw you approaching. Stopping in front of him, you felt the telltale signs of nervousness beginning to grow throughout your body, and you hurriedly hid your clammy hands behind your back. “H-hey umm,” you stopped yourself, gulping anxiously and thus swallowing the stutters escaping your lips. Your body, in exchange, gave you a propelling wave of confidence, which you allowed out of your mouth in the form of, “I just wanted to tell you that umm…” you trailed off, your mind going blank and your jaw slacking as you stared at him. Confused, Kenma’s brows furrowed while he watched you zone out in a matter of seconds. Oh f**k me this is embarrassing, you thought to yourself, quickly swallowing the fly you had caught before shaking your head. Thanking any deity that roamed in the sky for granting you a single moment of clarity, you took the chance and quickly blurted out, “I have a crush on you, and I’ve had it since last year, and… yeah.” While that didn’t last long, but at least you got the job done, right? Bouncing on your toes, you braced for impact while fighting the urge to run away and/or throw up from nervousness.
“Oh, umm, wow YN, that’s really nice of you to say, I guess,” he mumbled, and your brow raised in confusion at his words. “But I have a girlfriend.” Oh, there it is. Slowly, your breath hitched, and your nerves began to calm from the blanket of disappointment that had been dropped onto your body like ice cold water from a bucket. Why do people do this again? Does it ever end well? ‘Cause right now, it’s kinda sucking major butthole.
“Oh, ok, so I’m gonna go now I’ll see you around,” you babbled, turning around without another word and making a beeline for the exit of the school. Not a soul had been around to witness the downfall of YN, not that it would have been any more mortifying than it already was.
You wanted to laugh. You wanted to make jokes until the pain faded away, and the tears evaporated. But your body denied the request, and instead you got a sniffle. Then another. Then another, until your whole face looked like a new, mucusy waterfall discovered right here in Tokyo. Disgusting, and it felt disgusting too. What a horrible feeling, plan, and experience, all wrapped into the world’s shittiest present. Nobody wants to cry in school, though, so you pushed open the exit doors and let them slam behind you without a care for the loud sound it made. You promptly slumped down the wall beside the doors and let loose. Surprisingly, you weren’t one to cry often, and when you did, it was normally an especially wretched occasion. Does this one count, because it sure as hell feels like it counts. Hugging your knees to your chest, you gladly welcomed the stars that floated behind your eyelids from clenching them shut so hard, and greeted the tingly sensation growing in your arms from clutching your legs tightly happily as well. The pain was a distraction, until it wasn’t the only distraction.
A presence crouched down in front of you, but you refused to look up. In this school, you had no image to maintain, but you sure as hell still didn’t want to flash your sniffling mug to whoever sat in front of you. So he took the first step.
“Hey, are you okay, YN?” The male voice was gruff and hesitant, but still compassionate enough to make you want to give in and take comfort in his arms. Right now, you didn’t want to ask how he knew your name. All you knew was you needed support. Hell, any source of sympathy you could be given right now you would accept gladly. Gradually, you raised your head and looked at the boy in front of you, almost bursting into tears for a second time at the sight. Although your eyes burned from the light around you, along with the sudden release of pressure thanks to opening your eyelids, you instantly recognized Kenma’s tall third year friend. Suddenly, you felt like you would be better off alone again, and lord how you wished that were true. But you weren’t superhuman, and you had emotions, and needed comfort. So when the guy noticed your original plan of burrowing back into yourself once more, he gave you an undeniable proposal, swiftly opening up his arms in offering of a hug.
To be clear, you weren’t the type of girl to enjoy being a damsel in distress. Generally, you would deny hugs from strangers, and you rarely felt comfortable even hugging your friends, but right now you needed someone, anyone who would listen, or even just hold you and let you cry on their shoulder. So you softened yourself up and acknowledged this fact, accepting the hug while slowly falling forward into his warm arms and weeping quietly. While trying to stop the fresh wave of tears loading up in your ducts, you attempted to distract yourself by thinking about your… shoulder-to-cry-on’s name. It started with a K, that much you knew. However, when he began to softly caress the back of your head, the new wave of tears unleashed without warning at his tender actions. Yes, it hurt to be rejected by Kenma, but this overwhelming need to cry in someone’s hold travelled deeper than that. Your diary no longer could contain all the emotions you felt trapped in your mind for the past few years now. Finally, you realize that pen and paper just won’t do it: you need someone else by your side to prevent you from truly exploding. In the third year’s arms, you felt cared for, for the first time in a long while, and it felt good. On the surface, you felt greedy and selfish. Who were you to take up this guy’s time with your tears? But then you remembered that he offered first, and yeah, maybe he wasn’t enjoying it so much right now, as surely you weren’t a great sight to see, but surely he could tell how much you needed it. And no one should deprive another from letting their guard down and just plain old crying. So for a few more minutes, you relished in his grasp, wondering how much time had truly passed while waiting for your tears to slow. What a stand-up guy this dude is, you thought, I hope he’s really happy in his life so he doesn’t have to feel an ache like this. Yes, you barely spent enough time with Kenma to truly blame all of the tears you had shed on him, but he had still been your first real crush, and your first confession and rejection, so it still tore a wound in your heart. Besides, it feels good to cry.
When your eyes and nose began to dry and all that was left of your blubbering was puffy, red cheeks, you pulled back away from the guy, laughing awkwardly and wiping at your face with the sleeve of your school uniform. “Thank you,” you mumbled gratefully, giving him a soft smile, “I really needed that.”
“Of course,” he replied, smiling and nodding understandingly.
“So umm, what’s your name?”
He cracked up at your question, and you giggled softly with him, cheeks burning at your own obliviousness. “Kuroo, my name’s Kuroo.”
I knew it started with a K.
“Well, thanks Kuroo, I’m sorry if I ruined your- Oh crap I ruined your shirt!” You gasped in surprise at the large splotch you had left behind, a damp mark circling the collarbone and shoulder of his blue blazer. Once more, he chuckled at your reaction and shrugged off the jacket, revealing the typical white and black shirts underneath. Folding it on his lap, he patted it down before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You purse your lips and huff slightly at his dismissive attitude. You wanted to repay him, and covering his blazer with your own snot and tears was not sufficient enough payment, no matter how much you wanted it to be. “It’s fine, I swear,” he insisted with a smirk, snickering at your panic. “Now tell me. What happened?”
~~~
Walking through the halls, you couldn’t seem to help the smile stuck on your face. Kuroo looked down at you and grinned back, tightening his arm around your shoulders and squeezing lightly. “Why are you so smiley today? Not that I’m complaining, but it’s kinda freaking me out, so feel free to explain,” he teased, poking the side of your cheek after you had stuck your tongue out at his comment. After that fateful day when your confession to Kenma had flopped, Kuroo had stuck by your side like a fly on a piece of crap. On the first day, when he spotted you in the halls, he came over and gave you a small side hug, wrapping his lanky arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. At first, you blushed and shyly pushed at his chest to move away, embarrassed like a daughter would be of her father. But now you began to cherish his hugs and clingy actions, almost missing them whenever you were in class or at home. The pair of you currently had a routine going: Kuroo would spot you in the halls and call out your name, and you would look up, approach him and wrap your arm around his waist as he pulled you into his side, his thumb caressing your collarbone. Slowly, Kuroo began to worm his way into your daily life, and you allowed it. On days where you were unhappy, he would walk you to class and even bring you a treat from a vending machine if he had the chance. On days where you seemed particularly upbeat, he would give you a grin back and poke your cheeks, commenting on how beautiful you looked when you wore a smile. Things were great, so much better than before that you easily forgot how spontaneous this change in your daily life had been. All because you were simply… happier.
“I’m just thinking about how your hair looks like a chicken,” you laughed, squealing after he pokes you in the side as revenge.
“Excuse me, it’s called a ‘Rooster head,’ look it up. Plus, you said you liked it,” he exclaimed, making a disappointed noise at your betrayal.
“Eh.” You shrugged.
“Eh, EH! What does ‘eh’ mean?! Part of the reason I like you is because you don’t make fun of my hair, too, so don’t test me,” Kuroo shamelessly admitted, messing around with your own locks in revenge as you tried to wrestle away from his destructive hands. After finally escaping his grip, you both said your farewells as you stepped into your classroom, a pleasant, irresistible smile on your face.
~~~
The day had turned gloomier for the rest of the school when it began to rain outside, but it just so happened to be your favorite weather, so you didn’t complain one bit. While sitting at a table in the cafeteria, you closely inspected your umbrella, hoping to see what had made it utterly useless. Losing yourself in the moment of trying to think of how an umbrella is constructed, you don’t realize a figure is approaching until it’s too late. Then you hear it: the squeaky steps of tennis shoes. Looking up to identify the student, you instantly tense up at the sight and forget your emergency exits. Good thing you’re not on a plane, ‘cause you would be fu-.
“Hey YN,” Kenma speaks, interrupting your train of thought. His golden eyes are piercing straight through you, making you feel paralyzed and helpless.
“H-hey Kenma, long time no see huh,” you laugh nervously. “So how’s your girlf-”
“So you and Kuroo, now, huh?” How many times is this motherf****r gonna cut me off- wait what? His tone was sharp as a knife, and even though he had only uttered those words, you already wondered what you had done wrong. You felt like you were trapped in a boiling pot of water, the temperature slowly rising as you sat there, stuck.
“Huh?” was the only response that escaped your lips questioningly.
“YN, I really do care for you, so let me just warn you now. Kuroo has had a lot of girlfriends, and they come and go real quick, so be careful. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Kenma’s voice had turned soft along with his eyes, but all you could reply was “Huh?” Neglecting your confused look, the volleyball player walked away without another word, leaving you alone with your umbrella. “What the hell was that?” you looked down and asked the object. Sadly, it didn’t respond, nor did it work, so you stood up and accepted your fate, leaving Nekoma and trekking through the rain to your house. As the droplets soaked through your school-issued blazer while you sauntered, your mind never strayed from wondering what the hell Kenma had been talking about.
~~~
Laying down on your bed and contemplating your encounter with Kenma did wonders on your habit of overthinking things, but at least you finally think you’ve figured it out. Did Kenma think you and Kuroo were dating? Well duh, obviously. But was he jealous of Kuroo, or was he just looking out for his old friend? The part of you that still harbored feelings for him, because if you didn’t know, that shit doesn’t fade away even after a few weeks, desperately wanted to believe that he was jealous. Plus, every girl loves to hear how a guy is jealous over her. However, you knew Kenma, and you knew his only two emotions were slight excitement and boredom. So you had to throw that idea out the window, which left you with the other half of contemplations about whether Kuroo and you appeared to be a couple. You supposed the hugging made it seem that way. That, and the fact that the day you had confessed to Kenma, you had told all your friends before that you were going to confess to “someone.” Also, all those times your friends had said you and Kuroo were a cute pair. And that one time you kissed him on his cheek because he had given you chocolate on a bad day. And whenever he kisses you on the side of the head before dropping you off at class. And that one time when- Holy crap! Do you like Kuroo? Are you two dating and you didn’t even notice? Moving on to the most important questions: did you like Kuroo, and did he return those feelings? Your hand twitched towards your phone, and you blinked down in surprise. At this point, your heart was beating rapidly as you stared into the black screen at your own reflection. Should you call him? Are you tired of asking questions and ready to get some fucking answers? Dear God yes. Swiftly, you snatched up your phone and looked at Kuroo’s contact. When he had placed his number in your phone, he had also added multiple heart emojis around his name as well. Huh, never realized those were there. When contemplating between the call and text button, your finger had accidentally skimmed so close that you hit ‘call.’
“Shit, shit, shit, shii...take mushrooms, hey Kuroo.” You were interrupted in the midst of your nervous cussing when a voicemail started recording after your cheek had accidentally pressed the one button. “Um, so I just wanted to know if you like me and if we’re dating. Talk to you later, okay byeeeee.” You hit end call and groaned while running your hands down your face, shoving your phone as far away from your lap as possible. The stress from… whatever the hell you wanna call what you just did, was starting to get to your head, so much so that you decided to take a nap to sleep off the embarrassment.
~~~
*Two missed calls from 😻TETSUROU😻*
*Three notifications from 😻TETSUROU😻*
😻TETSUROU😻: Hey, are you serious?
😻TETSUROU😻: Did you really just call and ask that?! Seriously???
😻TETSUROU😻: Ofc I like you, we’re dating, dumbass, so I kinda have to 🙄 <3
hellooo! i'm just stopping by to request a prompt similar to Conan Gray's song "Heather". One where you've got this crush on him and the feelings seem to be reciprocated, and this flirty banter is going on between you two, but suddenly there's somebody else in the picture. a n g s t please. i want my feelings to be hurt
Another a n c i e n t request from years past. The name wasn't specified, so I had chosen Nishinoya bc he's a lil cutie:
The bandaid
Yn doesn’t want to acknowledge that Noyas moved on in high school, but then she sees him around Kiyoko.
The bandaid was ripped off. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. He didn’t like you. Maybe he never did, or maybe he used to, right now...no.
Okay, so yn likes him and they flirt so she thinks he likes her back
Then they both move on to Karasuno, where Kiyoko comes into the picture and BAM, no more yn
Nishinoya doesn’t flirt with her or anything, instead talking to her like a normal person before bounding off at the sight of Kiyoko.
Yn enters the class with noya and Tanaka and hears them talking about the “absolute babe” that is Kiyoko. Yn greets Noya and he says hi before rambling on about Kiyoko
You thought he liked you....
A Hairy Situation (Bokuto x Reader/Soulmate AU)
*GIF not mine*
Summary: Back home in America, YN was free to dye her hair whatever color she pleased. But now that she’s transferred to Japan as a foreign exchange student, she realizes that she’s much closer to her soulmate than she used to be... hence why her hair looks like an explosion of black and gray. What an asshole.
Author’s note: Haikyuu!! Bokuto x reader soulmate au. This one was also written at 3 am...and then deleted, so now I’m pissed. This is better than my first fanfic tho... I think, so enjoy!
Word count: 3775
When the new girl stepped into Karasuno, all eyes were on her. One, because she was new, duh. Two, because she was an American transfer student nobody expected to arrive. Three, because her hair looked like an explosion in an old-school, black-and-white film. As soon as people noticed this unavoidable characteristic, they pitied her.
“Her soulmate is such an asshole,” the students whispered amongst themselves. After all, who would want owl-like hair on the top of their head, aside from a sadistic jerk.
Here is a little known biology fact about soulmates in this world: females hold the recessive gene for hair. If two female soulmates got together, their hair colors would blend. If two males got together, their hair would be an equally-expressed mixture. Finally, when a female and a male soulmate are in close enough proximity to each other, as like all soul matches, the female’s initial hair color retreats to make room for the male’s hair color. That’s just simple human-soulmate genetics, existing in the world since the dawn of time.
Everyone knew the girl must not have been the cause for her hair color for one simple reason: she looked absolutely miserable. Her hands were white-knuckled around the straps of her school bag, and her shoes squeaked as she pathetically dragged her feet along the floor. She decided to keep her head down, and because of this, no one had noticed how she was fuming. With clenched teeth and burning, E/C eyes, the girl resisted the urge to throw a string of curses every glimpse she caught of her hair. Wait no, not of her hair, of her soulmate’s hair.
Unfurling the crumpled schedule in her hand, YN finally looked up to search for her classroom, resisting a sneer when her fellow pupils at last saw how pissed she truly was. Rushing into her homeroom, she met with the teacher, took her seat, and buried her striking head into her folded arms, hoping and praying to the heavens for the power of invisibility.
***
It was a known fact that when a soulmate pair was heterosexual, the female, try all she might, would never control the hair color of her other half. No dyes, no matter how strong, could erase the evidence of true-love proximity. Way early on, scientists had done the math and discovered that soulmate hair color would show when the two individuals were, at most, 250 miles away from each other.
With this idea, YN figured that her destined male companion must be in Japan, but she had no idea where. Back in the United States, she was free to dye her hair any color of her choosing, but had stuck with H/C on her flight to the Miyagi Prefecture. However, after getting off the plane and taking a much needed bathroom break, she had almost cried in despair when she saw her peppered strands. Now, she figured she could tell the future, as in that bathroom she had guessed the exact nickname the current bullies in Karasuno had just called her: Salt and Pepper.
At first, she had despised it, but after hearing it twenty times in a row during her lunch break, it began to grow on her. Much like her hair color. She realized that it wasn’t half-bad, and that the nicknames would simply be the worst thing to come from it. YN had passed all the stages of grief and had finally moved on to acceptance, as she realized it was out of her control. She would, however, explode on her soulmate once she finally met him. The amount of an ass-kicking he would receive would lead to him begging her to stop so he could go buy hair dye immediately.
YN was practically drooling at the idea of saving her reputation and getting to kick someone’s ass all in the same day, but she was shaken out of this dream by a jumpy ginger and his stoic, blue-eyed companion. She had been walking down the halls, planning to return to her class after lunch hour, only to be halted by their indiscreet whisper-conversation as they passed.
“Kageyama, doesn’t her hair remind you of Bokuto? That amazing ace from Fukurodani?”
The short redhead poked his companion in the side, only to receive a smack to the back of the head as the other calmly stated, “I guess so. We are pretty close to Tokyo now that I think about it.”
YN whirled around on her heels and caught up with the pair while exclaiming, “Hey, you guys know my soulmate? Where is he?”
The taller one, Kageyama she assumed, stayed impassive even as a small blush grew on his face before he stated, “We don’t know for sure, but it could be this guy we know from Fukurodani Academy.”
The shorter one added, “We’ve played him in volleyball, and he’s amazing! Their team is actually travelling down here tomorrow for a practice game! You should come.”
“Oh, I definitely will. Sounds fun.” YN’s eyes flared at the idea of meeting her soulmate, if only to tell him off, and the heat that exuded from her stare caused the two boys to shy away slightly. Hinata, she learned, told her the time and place of their volleyball match tomorrow, to which she thanked him with mischievous eyes before strutting away, mentally preparing for the inevitable beat-down the next day.
***
Volleyball, YN decided, is actually pretty entertaining to watch, but their practice is boring as hell. It looks so much more fun to play, YN thought to herself, biting her lip in excitement. Her nerves were aflame with anticipation, and she would finally get to meet her soulmate. The rousing idea of possibly encountering him for the first time almost distracted her of her main goal. Almost.
However, this fact didn’t matter. YN would never forget the first night of her arrival in Japan, standing in the bathroom of her host family and glaring at herself in the mirror. Well, not herself, but her hair. Every clump of black interspersed with light gray had increased her resentment of him. She didn’t want to hate him. This was revealed when she suddenly began tearing up while looking at herself.
YN wanted to believe he was just a fun guy who joked around and enjoyed others’ attention, but she knew differently. The world was cruel, and the odds were stacked against her, and from that night on, the young girl began to buy into the idea that others were selling her.
“My soulmate is such an asshole,” she had whispered to herself in the mirror before crumpling to a miserable ball on the floor.
YN was stuck in a foreign country with no friends and no family, surrounded only by strangers she rarely understood without thinking very hard, who accused her soulmate of being cruel and pitied her because of that supposed fact. Now, as she watched Karasuno’s boy’s volleyball team practice for today’s game, she couldn’t help her mind wandering back to what Hinata had told her.
“He’s amazing! And super nice too! He taught me this move where my arm prepares to go ‘Bam!’ but then it slows down to make the ball go ‘Fwoosh!’ I can’t wait for you to see…” The ginger’s voice faded away as YN recalled the memory of his rambling and complementing of her soulmate.
Maybe he won’t be so bad, YN thought to herself, but was startled out of her daze when the doors of Karasuno’s first gym burst open with a loud “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
A smile grew on her face at the sound of the amusing voice, and YN was surprised by her involuntary actions, but decided to let her grin stay when she saw who spoke. It was her soulmate, salt-and-peppered hair and all.
***
“Been a long time, Tsukki boy!” Bokuto shouted as he clapped his blond friend on the back.
Tsukishima scrambled to catch his glasses as they popped off his face, recovering them and haughtily pushing them back up his nose with a strong finger while declaring, “It’s only been like two weeks, and you need to quiet down, you’re giving me a headache already. I won’t make it through the game if you keep this up.” Halfway into Tsukishima’s rant, the blond had been instantly forgotten when Hinata raced over to Bokuto, jumping up and down in front of the third year while excitedly chatting with him.
“Hey, Bokuto, I’ve been working on the move you taught me! It works great, I can’t wait to kick your ass with it!” the carrot-top enthusiastically bragged.
The owl-haired ace chuckled boisterously in return, ruffling the ginger’s hair while playfully responding, “Alright little man, show me what you got.”
Rolling his eyes, Akaashi proceeded to drag Bokuto away from Karasuno’s first years, warning the older that he wouldn’t get any sets if he didn’t start practicing. The ace took the slight to heart and scrambled over to Fukurodani’s side of the net, grumbling under his breath about how mean his setter was.
As the game commenced, Fukurodani’s captain could not resist his eyes straying to the stands, feeling as though something was calling to him from there, begging him to take just one glance.
Directly above Karasuno’s “Fly” banner stood a girl. Not just any girl, but a girl with black and white hair. When Bokuto spotted her, his smile grew larger than the universe itself, and he waved at her frantically after she made eye contact. The girl’s face grew a few shades shy of a tomato, and she softly smiled, giving him a small wave back.
Returning his attention to the game, Bokuto knew not only would he not lose, but he would also scrub the floor with these guys, no matter how friendly he had been before. After all, his soulmate was watching, and he would do everything he could to keep her gorgeous gaze on himself.
***
“What the hell was that idiot thinking, waving at me in the middle of the game. He’s gonna get one right to the face, I just know it. What a cocky bastard,” YN rambled to herself, covering her warm cheeks with her cold hands. No matter what she did though, the burn stayed, and the smile that was hurting her cheeks was probably definitely part of the problem.
Her eyes never strayed from his form for a second during the first set, and the only word she could think of to define her soulmate was hella “Thick.” He was a good thick, hell, a great thick. The best thick in the whole, goddamned, world- okay what. What is wrong with me, she thought to herself, shaking her head as if to erase her previous musings. YN was taken out of her mental cleansing when she heard a whistle blow. The telltale end of the game’s first set. Immediately, the girl’s first instinct was to look for him, Bokuto, but she instead, for whatever reason, decided to duck out of the stands and go to the bathroom.
“What is wrong with me?” YN repeated to herself as she observed her red cheeks in the mirror. After all that time, the pink hues hadn’t slightened even the tiniest bit, but YN was more confused as to why she was okay with that fact. That she almost wanted her soulmate to see how shy he made her feel, how nervous she was around him.
Maybe it was because he seemed so nice, and to make up for how she had assumed he would be rude, she allowed him to see her blushing like a sprinter after a marathon. Maybe it was that, just maybe yes. Either way, YN knew she would have to leave the bathroom sometime, and she didn’t want to miss the rest of the game.
***
Fukurodani had won the first set; not by a landslide as Bokuto had hoped, but only by two points, finally earned after a long rally. But a victory was a victory, no matter how small, and when Bokuto stepped off the court with an over-eager fist pump and multiple high fives from his teammates, his eyes first traveled to the stands.
After scrutinizing every inch of the gym’s upper level, he still couldn’t find her. Maybe he had scared her off? Was the waving too much? No way, with the way she blushed but smiled and waved back anyways, Bokuto knew she was ready to stay in for the long run.
Sadly, no matter how much or how long the ace assured himself of his soulmate’s feelings, he felt doubt creep in the longer she was absent from the stands. What if she thinks she can run onto the court and greet me after hearing those whistles? That would be so cute, but she would probably be reprimanded for it though. But it would be worth it, right? God, I hope she does that…. The owl-haired captain continued to ramble to himself mentally as the rest of his team kept their heads in the game, discussing how to defeat Karasuno in the next set.
“Washio, I know their number ten is fast, so I need you to keep following him whenever you see him make a move. The others up front will… Bokuto? Are you listening?” Akaashi trailed off while watching his captain glare at the stands and mutter under his breath.
Hesitantly, the setter placed his hand on the third year’s shoulder, only to have Bokuto quickly swivel back around and irritably snap, “I’m fine, let’s just keep playing.” Shaking off Akaashi’s grip, the ace marched back onto the court, ready to land twenty-five service aces in a row, just to show his soulmate what she was totally missing! Behind Bokuto, the rest of his teammates sighed and rolled their eyes.
Sarukui watched Bokuto before saying, “Okay, I know it’s happened before, but isn’t it, like, a little too early for this? I don’t think it’s ever happened this quick.”
Akaashi shakes his head and flatly responds, “I don’t know, he seemed a little distracted even during the first set. And remember when he waved to that girl in the crowd? I don’t see her here anymore, so that might be part of it. Either way, let’s just play without him and hope he’s able to get back into his groove even if she doesn’t return.”
The rest of the team nods in agreement and jogs back toward the court, avoiding the tempermatic captain preparing to serve. Akaashi stays back and glances at his coaches, only to receive a questioning look as they gesture to Bokuto. The setter only responds with a shrug of his shoulders before hustling back onto the court. All we can do now is hope for the best, Akaashi thinks.
***
When YN returns to her place behind the banner with cooler cheeks, her eyes are immediately drawn to her soulmate. He seems to be getting ready to serve, but he won’t even look up at her. YN knows he must feel bad after she disappeared, and wonders how to make up for her actions without embarrassing herself, knowing she would need a little reassurance too if she was in his position.
The owl-haired ace is fuming on the court, and suddenly YN wonders how volatile her soulmate truly is. As Bokuto throws up the ball, preparing for a jump serve, YN flinches at how loud the sound of impact is, and watches as the ball flies over the net, crashing hard into the wall directly behind Karasuno. The two defenders in the home team’s back row do not even get a chance to watch the ball as it flies past them with horrendous speed, and their eyes go wide in...surprise? Or fear? Maybe both.
After the scene, Bokuto falls to his knees dramatically and releases a loud groan, shaking his head in his hands. “Damn it, I’m so stupid! What have I done?!”
YN glances nervously at the slight dent in the wood paneling of the wall and wonders if he’ll have to pay for damage. “Crap,” she whispers to herself, knowing what she has to do.
***
Akaashi has been there for many of Bokuto’s mood swings, and he’s seen it all.
Well, apparently not until now. From his own red handprints left on his cheeks to stomping around like a five-year-old, Akaashi knows about Bokuto’s temper like bees know about honey. It’s obvious, he’s been around it a lot, and he knows what to expect… or, at least he used to know.
Now, it’s like undiscovered territory, and Akaashi is wary of stepping on any landmine that might just cause his friend to explode.
With an outstretched hand, Akaashi wonders whether he should approach Bokuto or not, but before he can decide, the doors to the gym burst open.
Kageyama and Hinata observe silently as YN rushes past them, ducking under the volleyball net and beelining it towards Bokuto, her black and white hair flowing in the air from her speed. Nobody makes a noise to protest or warn her as she approaches him, slowing down in close enough proximity for him to feel her presence. Ever so dejectedly, the ace of Fukurodani raises his head to look at her, before blasting up to his feet and embracing her in a tight hug.
“I’m so sorry for scaring you away. Please don’t reject me, I don’t think I could handle it.” Bokuto’s voice wavers slightly as he clings to her even harder, his head tucked into her shoulder. YN wonders if he’ll start crying, but shakes off the thought and slowly twists out of his grip. At first, he hugs her even tighter, then he slowly, begrudgingly listens and peels away from her body. Bokuto tries to step away dejectedly, only for YN to grasp his hand and lead him out of the gym, ignoring the many pairs of eyes watching.
Before shutting the door, YN looks at both teams and politely smiles. “Continue.”
Watching the pair of soulmates disappear behind the exit, Akaashi closes his dropped jaw and shares an incredulous look with the people around him, shaking his head before shrugging his shoulders once more.
“May as well.”
***
Bokuto’s eyes glow as YN watches the door close before embracing him in a warm bear hug.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I screwed up your game, and I distracted you and I just left before saying anything. But to be honest, I was just, I don’t know, kind of scared.” Her voice is muffled in his shoulder, and she keeps hugging him tighter and tighter until he feels like he can’t breath, and he doesn’t mind.
Actually, as a matter of fact, he’s reveling in it. This feeling, the feeling of someone absolutely needing him to know that they care for him, and that they were sorry for his game going awry, it makes him giddy.
Bokuto has decided he also likes breathing though, and pats her back in an effort to get her to unclench. Just a little, because when she starts to pull back too much, he roughly tugs her back in, and the breath of fresh air her lungs had just received is too-quickly released back to the atmosphere.
“It’s okay,” he grins against her, “I’m just glad you came back. I wanted- needed you to come back. I wanted to meet you properly before I left you.” With that statement, she pulls away and narrows her eyes at him.
“Umm, where are you planning on going?” she asks, flustered at the thought of him leaving so soon.
“Well, you know, I kind of live in Tokyo. And you’re a foreign exchange student, right? I just needed this one chance for us to, you know, meet.” YN had totally forgotten that she wasn’t from here, and that he was only visiting Karasuno for a practice match. After today, who knows how long it would be before she got to see him again. Quickly, she grasps the front of his jersey as she demands, “I need your phone number.”
“Wow, ‘need’ huh? I’m not used to girls being so forward.”
“Oh, shut up and gimme it.” YN whips out her phone and passes it to him, open and ready for a new contact.
Bokuto’s heart warms, and while typing in his information, he becomes all excited and jumpy at how desperate his soulmate seems to need contact with him. He decides he likes to feel needed, and he also decides he doesn’t like how far away his soulmate is at the moment.
Stepping directly to her, Bokuto whips out YN’s camera and grasps her on the shoulder, tugging her close and kissing her on the side of the cheek as she blushes rose-red for the picture. Snapping it quickly, Fukurodani’s captain sets it as his contact picture and sends it to his phone as well.
Eagerly, he shows her the picture he had taken and watches as she begins to shy away from him. Catching on quick, Bokuto hurriedly wraps his arm around her shoulder and tucks the side of his head into her hair.
With both of them still staring at the photo, Bokuto moves his mouth towards her ear and cheekily whispers, “We look amazing together. We must be destined for each other or something.”
He moves away with a bright, slightly smug smile as YN softly nods. “Yeah, something like that.” Bokuto moves to stand directly in front of her and observes her bashful appearance, trailing a hand up to twirl a strand of black-and-whiteness between his fingertips.
“Your hair looks great like this, by the way.”
The mood in the hall darkens abruptly at his words. YN’s pleasant smile falls from her lips, and she instantly remembers that he is her soulmate. He is the one who ruined her hair from the moment she landed in Japan.
Oh man, did she get pissed. Turns out Bokuto isn’t the only one whose attitude can change in an instant. Maybe it has something to do with the hair?
***
Inside the gym, as the teams decided to keep playing, the game was going well. Karasuno’s newly developed skills were working, and Fukurodani was learning how to adjust to games without Bokuto. Just as the second set was about to end, however, the teams heard something... slightly unsettling.
“Bokuto, you son of a b***h, what the f**k is wrong with you?! You a**hole, who the hell dyes their hair this color?! You dumba** motherf*****, I’m gonna kill you!”
Suddenly, Bokuto bursts into the gym and runs around like a headless chicken, releasing an ear-piercing screech.
“Akaashi help, my soulmate’s trying to kill me!”
The setter wasn’t surprised; he would react the same way if he had that hair and couldn’t change it. And as YN charged into the gym, storming after her fated lover, something told her she wasn’t as much of a fan of her hair as she originally thought.
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18+, minors dnrI write sometimes ig maybe, we’ll see🫠Masterlist . . . . . . Side BlogRequests? What requests?
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