A Hairy Situation (Bokuto X Reader/Soulmate AU)

Please work on a pt. 2 to the Luna Hunt or a series in general its so good I beg off u. I would love to see where things go with them and her father and the new queen and king

ahhhhh yeah the whole father storyline like i dont even know where to go with that

hate it when my reader's flimsy purpose to escape comes back to bite me in the booty like ouch now i gotta work with that plot strand. luna hunt is def the most requested for a second part and i swear i hear u i just haven't read this genre in so long i dont even know where to start.

scratch that, i know exactly hwere to start, i just dont know where to go after that. we'll see maybe one day ill think of smth

Gray Chains (Yandere Michael Gray x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Michael needs to see you. It’s been three days after being shot by Luca Changretta’s men, and he knows you need to see him too--especially since you’re chained up against his headboard for trying to escape from him too many times. 

A/N: I mean gotta admit I’m in a yandere Michael Gray kinda mood, and there’s only like two fics of that out there :( Gotta do whatcha gotta do ig. Enjoy!

Word count: 3068

        Polly’s grip on your wrist is so tight you can barely feel the tips of your bluing fingers. You’re used to such pain, though; underneath her hand are more permanent, more reddened markings from the handcuffs you had been wearing before Polly had found you.

        “We’re almost there,” she mumbled under her breath, head snapping back and forth every few minutes to search each room you passed. Your feet and calves ached from the pace she had set for the two of you, quick and impatient ever since you’d stepped out of Michael’s townhouse. You hadn’t moved this far, this fast for months. 

        Not since you first tried to escape Michael. 

        Even now, you couldn’t breathe. Every gasp of air was caught in your throat, choking you slowly while tasting of antiseptic. A sort of panic-stricken excitement ran through your body from being outside the gray walls of Michael’s home for the first time in who knew how long. 

        Just hours ago that was where you had been, one hand secured in a metal cuff that only reached as far as the bathroom, the other end of which was placed around Michael’s headboard. 

        You knew something had gone awry when Michael hadn’t returned home to deliver you your usual meal every six hours for a straight three days; when he hadn’t shyly knocked on the door to his own bedroom, a tray of homemade cooking in his hands and an innocent smile on his face; “I made you something, love.”

        Three straight days. Your stomach rumbled as a reminder even now. 

        “Speed up now, won’t you,” Polly ordered, still frantically pushing the pair of you past marble hallways filled with nurses and patients roaming. “The room is up here.”

        You’d given up asking what had happened to Michael. Polly was unresponsive to your every question, too focused on lugging you behind her to say anything else but “He’s been asking for you.”

        When you had first heard the door unlock to Michael’s house this morning, you had thought it was him. “Where the hell have you been?” you’d called, a disturbing hint of relief in your frustrated tone. If he was going to lock you up like an animal, you’d thought to yourself, he should at least have planned for times like this where he doesn’t show up for days. 

        But the second you heard the footsteps up the stairs sound lighter than normal, you sat up at attention in the bed, eyes locked on the doorway. Who…?

        Polly. Polly who had almost been hanged, who was now addicted to pills and thought she could see spirits, who was a strong, capable woman that defended others and cared deeply for her family. This was how Michael described his mother to you. He’d wanted you to meet her so badly, but only when you were ready--complaisant was what he really meant. 

        “You must be YN,” she’d said breathlessly, pausing only a second to study your situation. 

        You swallowed, unmoving from your spot on the bed. “Yes.” She was the first person you’d seen for so long aside from Michael. 

        Then she produced a key from the pocket of her coat and approached you swiftly. 

        “Yes, yes--please,” you held up your cuffed hand before her, eyes watering with relief, “please, you must get me out of here. He’s kept me here so long.” Finally, someone had come to save you, you thought. You were leaving this place forever.

        When that small voice in the back of your mind whispered, “What about Michael?” you ignored it.

        The metal chains had hit the floor with soft clangs, and she’d pocketed the key once again. You remembered rubbing a hand over the sore skin of your wrist, eyes wide with wonderment at the sight of your hand unaccompanied by gray metal. 

        Then Polly’s hand replaced your own, tight and unforgiving as she tugged at your arm. “Come along now,” she ushered you out of the house, you willingly following her like a ragdoll. “He wants to see you.”

        “What?” That’s not what you had expected her to say. 

        “He’s been asking for you.”

        You never bothered to ask who. After all, you should have never thought Michael’s mother had come to save you. 

        Gangsters, you told yourself. Criminal scum, the lot of them. You should have never taken a walk down the streets of Birmingham, and you should have never smiled at Michael Gray. 

        “They’re asleep, fuckin’ lazy scumbags,” Polly spat, slowing her pace when she caught sight of one of the larger hospital rooms. She didn’t let up on your wrist but instead pushed you into the room first before following.

        Michael. 

        What happened to him?

        Half of his upper body was wrapped in white surgical tape, while the other half was blanched enough to rival the tape’s color. His eyes were closed, puffy and rimmed with dark circles that hung over prominent cheekbones like upended crescent moons. His pale, chapped lips were held in a thin line that twitched at the new, noisier presences in the room.

        A shiver traveled down your spine at the sight of him in such a way, and suddenly your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t feel the pain in your wrist anymore. 

        “On your feet,” you heard behind you. A few moments, and some rustling. “Wait outside.”

        The door clicked behind you, then it clicked again. Locked. Polly came up from behind you a second later, ignoring your presence completely as she set two flasks of alcohol on the table of Michael’s hospital bed before pulling up a chair beside him. 

        Tugging off her coat, she moved to lay it over Michael’s legs until he spoke. 

        “Mum,” he mumbled blindly, his voice raw and strained from lack of use. 

        “Michael,” Polly cooed then, leaning in closer over him to dab his face with a rag. He was so broken that moving his lips to talk was strenuous enough to break a sweat. Even his fingers twitched slowly, weakly. You’d never seen him so frail and battered.

        Your heart stuttered in an unsettling way. 

        “Is she-”

        “Don’t move.” She soaked up the perspiration on his brow next, humming warningly. “You took four bullets.”

        “But-”

        “She’s here--the girl. I brought her like you asked.” Polly didn’t spare you a glance, not that you noticed. You were frozen in place, gaze still wandering over each wrap on his body. One, two, three, four bullets. He’s still alive. He’s still alive. 

        “YN,” he murmured, eyes opening a sliver. “YN. You’re here.” 

        You took a step toward him instinctively, hand raising from your side, before realizing your mistake and steadying yourself in place. 

        A smile tugged at his lips, paining him somewhat but not stopping him. He moved to sit up, to reach out for you as well, but a groan forced its way from him when he tried. With furrowed brows, he sucked a breath through his teeth and clenched his eyes shut. 

        Polly inhaled all the meanwhile, hovering her hands over his form to stop him from moving any more. “What did I tell you? Lie back.”

        “YN, please, come closer, love.”

        Polly turned her gaze towards you, accusatory. “Come!” she ordered, gesturing with her head to Michael’s other side. Her gaze fell back on him again when you drew closer to the bed, and her hard face softened. 

        Even with eyes struggling to stay open, Michael’s stare was adoring upon you. Like always, he stared at you as though you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. You’d been under that loving, worshiping gaze for months now. Even now, it placed such a heavy weight on your chest that you found yourself stumbling closer, only flinching away when your fingertips made contact with his arm. 

        He drew you in like a moth to a flame ever since you first met. Only after he’d locked you up in his house did your feelings for him leave a disgusting taste on your tongue. 

        You stayed a few inches apart from him, ignoring how his hand struggled at his side to reach for you. 

        “Love, please. I want to feel you. I need to know you’re really here.”

        Two pairs of eyes were on you then. Polly’s glared like a coiled snake, and Michael’s pleaded like a puppy dog.

        You edged closer, letting your hand drop on top of his. Quickly, Michael maneuvered your fingers to interlock with his, and he sighed in relief. You forced your attention away from the warmth spreading in the center of your chest and onto Polly, who dug through her bag. 

        “I’ve missed you so much, love.” His thumb ran over your knuckles. “I was so afraid I’d never get to see you again. I was so scared I was never going to hold you again.”

        His words wrapped around you like a weighted blanket, heavy and overbearing yet warm and comforting. You wanted to throw up.

        “Michael,” Polly gathered his attention somehow, pulling his face toward hers as she laid out a pamphlet on his bedside. Australia, it read. “Please listen. John’s dead, and this whole town’s fucked. We need to get out of here.”

        “No,” he grunted, hand squeezing yours.

        She rolled her eyes. “You can take the girl. Just listen--there’s no mafia, no fucking American gangsters in Australia. Now, the doctor said you can walk in five weeks, and the boat leaves February thirteenth. That gives us plenty of time.”

        Five weeks. You glanced at Michael’s form, practically curling in on itself in pain. It was only held together by stitches and strips of cloth. He wouldn’t be out of the hospital for months, even if he could walk. 

        “We’re not going anywhere, Mum.”

        But you could. How could he possibly come after you, stuck here like a mummified corpse with four bullet holes in it. Without him to lock you up in his house, to tie you down and feed you and hold you, you could escape him easily. You would never have to see Michael again. 

        Your stomach growled, drawing Michael’s attention. His face fell into despair at the sound, and his eyes fluttered closed in regret. “YN, fuck, I’m so sorry. I never thought something like this would happen.”

        “Michael, please,” Polly begged, “we must go there and see your sister.”

        “Mum, later.” He looked back at you, face riddled with guilt. “Love, I’m sorry you were alone for so long.”

        “Michael-”

        “Mum!” His head snapped back to her, frustration barely concealed in his tone. “Please. Just go call Tommy and tell him to bring me a gun for the room. Business needs to be done first before we take any trips.”

        “Michael, it’s not safe. Not if we stay here. Tommy cannot protect us.”

        “Not if you don’t help him, Mum. Please,” he lay his other hand over the pamphlet, pursing his lips before pressing it closed once more in her grasp, “help Tommy first. Help the company first, then I promise we’ll board that train to Australia to go see Anna.”

        Tears began trailing down Polly’s face, and you glanced away out of courtesy. Michael was so different with his mother than he was with you. Around you, he treated you like you could do no wrong. Like you were the perfect woman, the perfect wife. Sometimes he held you as though you were made of glass, and other times he almost broke your ribs in his tight embraces. He’d whisper to you at night about how you were his greatest achievement, his greatest gift. 

        With his mother, now, he treated her as though she were a five-year-old in need of constant supervision and direction. Michael had vaguely told you about the situation with his mother, how he’d only first met her a couple years ago, but never much more than that. You had a feeling that if the Polly in front of you now were in any better shape, that same Polly that so clearly wanted you to act like a better girlfriend to her son and had dragged you down streets and through alleys just for him, then she would never give Michael’s orders a second thought. 

        Polly nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks with gloved hands with a willing, yet trembling, smile. “Fine.” She rose to her feet, grasping her purse off the nightstand and shoving the pamphlet inside. “Fine. I’ll go see Tommy.”

        She moved to leave, snatching the two flasks off the table in the meantime, before she seemed to remember something. She turned back to Michael again, and her gaze flitted to yours once. 

        “The girl. I saw the state she was in, Michael.”

        He tensed, and as a result your hand twinged in pain. 

        “Do you want me to take her back to the house?”

        All of the tension left Michael’s body in a single sigh, and he shook his head once. “No,” he smiled softly, “I want YN to stay with me here.”

        She nodded slowly, eyes falling on you one final time before she disappeared out the door. When it clicked shut, Michael’s gaze latched onto you, half-lidded, exhausted, but still very much attentive to you.

        “You will, won’t you? Stay with me here, I mean?”

        Silence fell over the room. You stared down at the man who just days ago had towered over you on his own bed, hands and lips all over you, owning you. 

        “You know why I do this, love, don’t you?” he’d always say, lips running over the raw skin of your wrist, free of the cuff whenever he was present. “It’s because I need you.” Another kiss. “I will always need you.”

        Then you twisted your hand from his grasp, backing away from the bed with flared nostrils. “I,” you shook your head, “I don’t know.”

        “No, no, love, please, don’t do this to me.” Michael grunted and groaned as he fumbled against the sheets, body fighting against his urge to move. His arms raised slowly and weakly from his sides as if each had been strapped down with weights. When he reached out for you, the sweat on his wrinkled brow glistened in the sunlight. 

        “Don’t, please. I love you so much, love, don’t do this to me.”

        You wanted to argue with logic. You wanted to twist his words and say, well how could you do that to me for all that time, huh? How could you tell me you love me every day, knowing that the only reason I have to listen to you is because of the prison walls around me? If you really loved me, how could you do that to me?

        But you didn’t because--it seemed--he’d finally got what he’d wanted. Oh how you missed the days where he’d begged and pleaded with you to love him and understand him, and how you missed those times where you said you didn’t and that you hated him. And you missed when those words were the truth, because it meant he hadn’t beaten you into submission. 

        Yet.

        But he was winning, wasn’t he now?

        As he breathed faster and perspired harder and called your name louder, you rounded the bed, still just out of his grasp, before settling down into Polly’s former seat. 

        Right then, he quieted himself like a sated child sucking on a pacifier. 

        “Fine, then.” You spat, more angry at yourself than you could ever be at him--because look what you’d allowed him to do to you. “Fine, you fucking win.”

        He remained silent.

        “I’ll stay here with you. And five weeks from now, I’ll still fucking be here, helping you stand up and walk around. And then soon after we’ll go to fucking Australia with your mother. And then after that I’ll fucking follow you there too, won’t I?” You were disgusted with yourself, with the feelings he’d force-fed into you until they were all you wanted. 

        Then you grabbed his hand, still reaching for you from the side of the hospital bed, and intertwined your fingers. Perfect, you’d thought, a perfect fucking fit. 

        Michael pulled the pair of hands up to his lips, kissing along your knuckles and smiling all the while. “Thank you, love.” His lips trailed up your arm. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss.

        He tugged you closer and closer still, waiting until you leant over him enough to pull your lips onto his. 

        You had lost this battle against your own feelings long before Polly had dragged you out of the house, you realized. It was long before the day he’d first missed his meal with you, and you knew it because instead of wondering if you were going to be fed by your captor, you wondered if the man you loved was ever going to come home to you again. 

        You also knew it when his lips separated from yours for a breath, and he wasn’t the only one who had chased for a second chance at the kiss. 

        “Stay with me always, love,” he mumbled against your lips. “I need you. I’ll always fucking need you.”

        “I know,” you leaned your forehead against his, running your fingertips over his lips, his cheek, his hair. 

        “I won’t ever leave you again, love. I promise.” His hands cupped your face, holding you in place just an inch away so you could feel his words on your lips. “I won’t ever let anyone take me away from you.”

        “I’ll hold you to that,” you murmured, tearing your gaze away from his to stare down at the tape lacing his battered form. You hovered a hand over the strips, wondering where each of the four bullet holes was. 

        “And nobody will take you from me,” he tapped your chin, pulling your attention back to his face, “right, love?”

        “Never, Michael.” You shook your head, nose brushing his. “Never.”

        “That’s right,” he hummed under his breath. “Never.”

Part 2

Oh goodness I briefly couldn’t find you in tumblr’s search bar and was so worried you were gone 😭 but lo and behold here you are, and with hq posts I’ve never read yet!! I’m so excited, but first - I hope you’ve been well, that you had some nice times over the holidays, and that the new year is off to a good start for you!! 💖

Aagkcndkk this is so sweet! I’ve been great—I hope you’ve been well too, anon!!

I know it’s been a while, but I gotta admit it’s been nice to tackle writing again. I hope you like what you’re reading!💜💜

Yan!bokuto would be breathing down your neck, wanna go out with friends? He'll be with you not letting you meet them without his supervision. Wanna go the bathroom? He'll go too. He's super possessive and easily jealous. 😳😏

Yessss. Just imagine the one damn time you get to go to the bathroom alone and he’s just leaning against the door when you open it. He falls on his ass but scrambled to his feet just so he can tackle you in his arms.

“You took so long, baby! I thought you got away or something!”

Shit, tho, is there really a point in asking him for some time alone? “No, YN. Not happening.” “But Bokuto-” “Dont even fucking think about it. I need you by my side so I can keep you safe. You’re never leaving me.”

Coucou😁, J'ai vraiment adorée la fic sur l'omegaverse avec bakugo "The hunt Moon" pourrait il y avoir une partie 2 pleeeaaaseee🙏🙏🙏

I'm glad you liked it! a second part is definitely being considered, especially considering how many people have requested it, but like i've said before i just have no clue where to go with it :(

omg wait what if i just write some headcanons in that universe anybody up for that holy shit big brain

Yandere ozai?

Yandere Ozai Headcanons

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Should I start watching Hunter x Hunter? Sorry, that was random. Anyways, just wanna warn you these hcs are a lil out of order, and I’m sorry. When I wrote it, I just kept coming up with more and more ideas for the “story” so I just kept adding to it. Anyways, hope you like it!

Word count: 956

First of all, you’re a maid in the castle. Yeah, of course he’s seen you in the halls and thought you were attractive, but he never really gave it more thought. 

Then Zuko and Azula’s mother left, and that’s when he got hooked on you. He felt lost and you, being the ever-faithful servant, stayed by his side and comforted him. 

(We are talking about adults here. You did have sex with him for “comfort.”)

Anyways, after that, you had sealed your fate. While you tried to get on with your life, Ozai wasn’t as forgetful. 

Honestly, I think this guy is one of those yanderes who initially don’t want to admit or believe they love you.

Like first, he’ll try other concubines. Women who will bow down to him and such. 

Then he’ll finally resort to keeping you near, allowing you to continue being a maid and such (because he initially planned on kicking you to the curb after your night together), but he still doesn’t like that he likes you. 

Part of him just feels… addicted. Like he doesn’t want to lose you. But he doesn’t like having that attachment. 

Honestly, he’ll want to blame his obsession on you, like make you feel bad for it and stuff. 

He’ll keep trying to show off with other women in the castle. 

Making out with them during breakfast and such while you’re serving them and you’re just standing around like “did you want eggs or…”

Then, at some point, he doesn’t exactly give in to his feelings, but he understands that as the leader of the world, it doesn’t matter who he’s with. 

Ozai’s not really self-concious of you ruining his image; if anything, he kinda wants to use you to flaunt how he can transform someone from rags to riches. 

At that point, he’s really fallen for you. He’s on the verge of taking over the world, his rebelling son is still banished, and he’s about to take over the last city that stands a chance against him: Ba Sing Se.

It’s a toss up of whether he wants to flaunt his world to you or to flaunt you to his world. 

You better treat everything he does like it’s amazing. Seriously, this guy is pure ego. 

If he gifts you something (which is something he does often), you must always repay him. Whether this is sexual or compassionate just depends on his moods. 

Maybe I’m wrong about this, but I really don’t think Ozai is the type of yandere to be like “you should feel blessed to be with me,” especially after he’s fallen for you. Initially? Yeah sure, he may have thought that a few times. But after he’s acknowledged the fact that he can’t let you go, I don’t think he’d rub his love in your face too much. He’d be more obsessed with showing you what he can do. 

You’re his world now, and giving you the entire world is his perfect gift. 

In the end, of course he’s captured for attempting to do this, and his third or fourth thought is “oh shit, where’s YN?”

He orders the last of all the Ozai loyalists to capture you and, I’ll be frank, he wants you to go out “together even in death” style. 

With a forced kiss, he’ll make you drink poison in his cell while he holds you in his arms (he ignores your struggling and crying). After the life has faded from your body, he takes his own swig and you go out together. 

Anyways, back to before all of this (sorry this is so out of order) right after you had sex with him to comfort his wife leaving, I think he more fell for you because you symbolized a new hope for him. 

He had made you feel so good that night. Deep down, he wanted to keep making you feel that good. 

Ozai wanted to prove to you but mostly himself that he could keep a woman and please her. He wanted his ex-wife to regret leaving him, so he was going to give you the world. 

Getting right back into it, he is a crazed king, mind you, so he will use his power for self-gain. If you’re talking to someone, no matter the gender, he’s going to banish them.

(Of course if they touch you, their life is the price of their misdeed.)

You, on the other hand, are also forced to take responsibility for your mistakes. 

It’s not uncommon that he’ll lock you away to keep you from interacting with others, but if you’re wrong-doings are especially horrible, whippings and burnings are not uncommon. (Plus, he likes the sight of his fire touching and permanently marking your skin. It’s like a physical claim no one, not even you, can get rid of. It keeps you knowing your place.)

There’s really no list of rules Ozai has set for you, but they’ve become clear to you over the years you’ve been with him.

1: No contact with others.

2: Always repay your lord for his kindness.

3: Bow when he enters and leaves a room.

4: Give him a kiss or more whenever he acknowledges your presence.

5: Never disobey an order from your master.

Truly, being with Ozai is quite simple: learn your place and no one gets hurt.

I just started a writing blog, your pieces were a big inspiration for me to start writing. I just published my first piece. I love your writing and I hope you keep doing it! :)

Oh wow, that’s awesome!! I’m glad I could give you the push you wanted to start writing (and thank you for the kind words😊)!! I remember that just starting out is one of the hardest things to do, so it’s awesome that you’ve taken that first step🥳🥳

Good luck and remember to have fun💜💜

heyy i’ve been reading ur fic for a good while now and i have to say i just constantly find myself coming back to it. you write with clarity (seems simple but it’s hard to find writing as well done as urs) and emote really well and your fics are always soooo entertaining to boot! idk if that last one is the right word but bdjdjdjf i just love ur fics. thank u sm for sharing them :’)

Awww thank you so much! It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a message as kind as yours, and I really appreciate it!! I’m glad you like my stories🥰🥰

Break Up Prank (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)

(Captain Version) Part 2

A/N: it’s the most annoying thing when I can’t get like two more texts in the picture😡 anyways, y’all lucked out cuz I figured the 6 I made wasn’t enough for 2 posts, so here’s drunk Terushima. Enjoy!

Bokuto, Ushijima, Kita, Daichi

Can you please do a part 2 of Pumpkin Eater? With a fluffy ending please, this fic broke my heart 😅

Pumpkin Eater (Kuroo x Reader) ~Part 2~ Second Chance

*GIF not mine*

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

Part 1

Part 2 (Never Again)

A/N: Hehe, people can’t handle the angst. I get it, I’m the same way. All righty, as per request, here’s part two of Pumpkin Eater! Enjoy!

Word count: 2478

        “We were on a break-”

        Click.

        “Identity theft is not a joke, J-”

        Click.

        “I broke it. It burnt my hand so I punched it. I predict in ten-”

        Click.

        The remote was taken from your loose grip and the television turned black. 

        “YN.”

        “Hmm?”

        “This needs to stop.”

        “What does?”

        Your friend sighed at the sight of you huddled deeply in a mountain of blankets. Dark circles hung like bags under your eyes, contrasting wildy with your ghostly pale face. Every muscle in your body ached with the slightest movement, too stiff from staying in one position for… three days? Four?

        “You’ve been sitting on my couch and moping for a week.”

        Oh, a week. 

        “You need to get up and move, or at least do something,” Christie groaned, throwing the blankets out of your reach and grabbing your hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze and softened her gaze. “I know it hurts, and it sucks.” Squeeze. “But maybe you should talk to him-”

        “I am not talking to him!” you cry out, ripping your hand away and standing on numb legs. “Christie, he cheated on me. There’s no excuse for that!” 

        Her eyes widened in surprise and she nodded solemnly. “Okay, but let me show you something first.” Before you could ask, she stood and left the living room, disappearing into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. 

        To a certain degree, she was right. You needed to get back to it. For the past week, it felt like your life had been set on pause. Every restless hour of sleep you got was filled with memories and nightmares mingling in the most stomach-churning way. Each dream was just about identical. It was always Kuroo and some faceless woman, laughing at you and leaving you behind in a mess of tears and shame as they walked away. 

        You always woke up with a whimper and forced yourself to stay awake after, too afraid to feel that pain again. 

        Some days… you wondered if he felt the same ache as you. If he felt just as empty and lost. Like a piece of his own body, his own heart was missing. Did he… did he feel the same way?

        Suddenly, Christie storms back into the room and drops an object on your lap. A phone. And with closer observation, you realize it’s your phone. 

        “Now, I am going out tonight and looking for a man at the club. If you want to join me, great. If you don’t…” she sighs and licks her red-shaded lips, “I guess that’s fine too.”

        It’s only then you notice she is completely decked out. In a signature little black dress and ruby pumps, she looks ready to knock men out dead. Bronzer sparkles in the brightness of her apartment’s light fixture and mascara makes her eyes bulge in the most baiting way. 

        You, on the other hand, are a complete mess. You’re wearing a week-old sweatshirt (Kuroo’s), and very loose, tightly cinched sweatpants (also Kuroo’s). Each piece of clothing has an emphasis on the sweat, and the only thing glittering on your face is the sugar from your cinnamon donut, aka yesterday’s breakfast. You felt like a trash can, and you certainly had the appearance to match. 

        Christie smooths the skin-tight skirt of her dress down as much as possible before taking a seat beside you on the sofa and grabbing your shoulder. After she turns you to face her, she gives you a tight smile and pulls a Cheeto out of your hair, tossing it to the floor with a heavily disguised sneer. “YN, all I ask is that you don’t let this hold you back forever. Just,” she grabs the phone in your lap and presses it into your hand, “read and listen to the messages. Please. For me.”

        She waits for your nod before standing up and grabbing her purse. With a flip of her straightened hair, she throws it over her shoulder and gives you a small smirk. “Now I might be coming back home later tonight, or I might not, we’ll see,” she winks. “But if I do, don’t expect us to be silent.” With one last giggle at your disgusted face, she disappears into the hall of her apartment building, slamming and locking the door behind her.

        You watch the exit for a couple more seconds before glancing down at your phone. While heaving a sigh, you press the power button and clench your jaw in anticipation. 

        Shit.

                                ~~~

        99+ texts was the symbol on your message app, along with 65 missed calls. 58 of those were from Kuroo, and almost every single one held a voicemail. It was like he was trying to crank up your phone bill just to spite you. 

        After a much-needed shower, you were working your way through every one of them, listening and deleting in an incessant pattern. You rubbed the towel through your damp locks, drying them before trying to run a brush through it in a failed attempt at looking tamed. In the meantime, a message played in the background. Kuroo’s voice crackled through the speakers in a broken tone. 

        “YN… Kitten… I need you back-”

        “Voicemail deleted.” 

        “Hey, it’s me again. Look, please call me back-”

        “Voicemail deleted.” 

        “YN, I don’t care if I have to call you a million times, I’m going to win you back. I love you so much more than you realize. And I’m not gonna stop until you’re in my arms again Kitten. We’re meant to be-”

        “Voicemail deleted.” You pulled your trembling finger away from the screen and choked back a sob. The brush clattered to the floor as you snapped up the phone and hugged it to your chest. 

        You shouldn’t have- Goddamnit!- you should not have let the message run on for that long. But it was just so nice to hear his voice claim that he loved you again. Loved you still.

        But that’s all it was. A claim. 

        “Goddamnit,” you hiss under your breath, clenching your eyes closed as tears trickled down your cheeks. At a slow pace, you mosey your way out of the bathroom, dropping back onto the sofa and crying out the pain. 

        You wish it was as easy to get over some as they say, but the fact is that it’s not. You loved him, and-

        Knock knock.

        Shit, she’s back already?! You scrambled to your feet and tightened your robe around your bare form, approaching the door swiftly. You definitely did not want to stick around if Christie had brought home a male companion. That would just be… ick. 

        Knock knock. The person slammed their fist against the door harder this round, and you yelled back, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

        Whipping it open, you instantly slammed it shut once more at the sight. 

        Kuroo.

        “YN!”

        “Nope,” you shook your head, “fuck that.” 

        His fist bangs against the door once again, almost knocking it off its hinges. 

        “YN! Please let me see you!” 

        His voice sounded raw, like it was scraping past his throat with every syllable. You assumed yours sounded the same. 

        “Just open the door!” 

        “No!” you screamed back, evidently shocking Kuroo into silence. You stood in anticipation, waiting with your arms crossed for another retort, another plea. But nothing came. 

        Noises shifted outside in the hall, and you saw shadows moving under the door before the light was snuffed out completely. Kuroo’s back and skull made contact with the wood, echoing a dull thud as he settled into a seat on the floor directly outside the apartment. 

        “YN, please,” he muttered, quieter this time. As much as you hated him, you hated the sound of him sad even more. Seeing his presence today just reminded you that love doesn’t fade away after a relationship ends. At least not instantly. 

        You slumped to the carpeted floor too, sniffling and hugging your knees to your chest as you watched the entrance. Distractedly, you petted the fluffy fabric of your pure white robe as you waited. For what, you weren’t exactly sure. 

        Minutes passed, and all you could hear was the occasional snivel out in the hall. Your heart panged at how close he was. All your pain, all your suffering could be cured by a simple embrace of Kuroo’s. Your body and mind knew this, but your emotions refused to falter. 

        “Kuroo-”

        “Tetsurou,” he corrected tightly. 

        You sighed deeply and continued, ignoring the swift beating of your heart. “Why did you do it?” 

        A long pause left you dropping your chin down to your knees, and Kuroo cleared his throat before responding in a croaky voice. “I… I don’t really know. I was wasted, and I should’ve never drank that much. And she looked like you. And I- God, I was an idiot. But she was nothing to me, meant nothing to me.” His head banged against the barrier before he kept going. 

        “YN, you need to know you’re the love of my life. You’re,” he huffed out a breath, and you could hear him adjust his position on the floor. “You’re it for me. I can’t function without you. For the last week, I haven’t slept more than an hour, or eaten or anything. I just… please, I need you by my side.” 

        Not in a million years would you ever admit it, but you felt the same. Like you needed him to think straight, to help you focus, to keep you grounded. He was the one for you too. You just didn’t understand why he did what he did. 

        “I don’t know if I can trust you again.” You struggled to keep your words steady, and dug your fingernails into your knees when they cracked up at the end. 

        “I’ll work to gain back your trust, YN, God I swear I will. I just need you to give me another chance. I’ll never hurt you again, ever.”

        Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you pushed yourself up to your feet and approached the door anyway. It was the only wall you had left between you and him. He had broken down every other, and this was your last layer of protection. 

        With your hand on the doorknob, you hesitated to open it. You didn’t want to be hurt again. Never. You never thought he would betray you like that. You thought he loved you just as much as you loved him. You couldn’t even think about being with another man.

        So that’s why you pulled your hand away. 

                                ~~~

        Four hours had gone by. You figured Kuroo had gone home a while ago, and you had settled onto the couch, forcing yourself to laugh at a comedian’s stand up just to feel better. A hot chocolate steamed in your hand as you curled up in a blanket, trying to erase the pain in your heart.

        Footsteps clicked outside. Stilettos. Then whispers occurred. You sighed at the inevitability of getting kicked out so Christie could get it on with her new friend, but then she knocked.

        “Hey YN, you mind getting the door for me?” Her voice didn’t slur in the slightest. In fact, she didn’t even sound buzzed. Shaking away your suspicion, you rose and opened it for her, keeping your gaze locked on the television to wait for the comedian’s punchline. 

        “Christie, did you even drink while-” You were cut off by the feeling of someone’s long, strong arms embracing you. 

        The sensation was too familiar to be her. It was tight and warm and loving and comforting. It sprung tears in your eyes and washed a wave of uncontrolled contentment over you. 

        “Kuroo,” you choked out. Said man’s arms tightened around you. 

        “Don’t,” he whispered, his low volume muffled against your neck. “Please don’t call me that.”

        “Tetsurou,” you breathe out, “you were out there that whole time?”

        He chuckled bitterly and brushed his lips over your bare shoulder. “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much. I would do anything for you.”

        You snorted lightly into his own shoulder, running your hands up and down his back comfortingly. You enjoyed the feeling of him. You missed it. “I love you too.” Lips curling into a grin, Kuroo leaned back and began to pepper your face in kisses at the words. Then his hands crept up to the back of your head and tugged you closer, slamming you against him in a passionate kiss. 

        You both moaned at the feeling. It had been too long, way too long since you had been with each other. 

        When a loud clearing of a throat sounded, you pulled away, giggling when Kuroo tried to follow you. Your forehead pressed against his and you both stared deeply into each other’s eyes, watching with adoring gazes. 

        “I missed you.”

        “I missed you too.”

        “Yeah, that’s great and all,” Christie chimed in, “but can y’all move in together again? YN, I don’t know if you noticed, but you made my place look like a rat’s nest.” You snapped away from Kuroo in a split second and glanced around the room. You finally had enough clarity to take in your surroundings and- shit- she was right. 

        Blankets and wrappers and clothing were thrown haphazardly around the room. With a nervous giggle, you shrugged and gestured to the sight. “Umm, sorry?”

        “Yeah, yeah,” Christie scoffs with a smile before tossing you your backpack. “Just get outta my sight, lovebirds.” 

        Kuroo unraveled himself from you and intertwined his hand with yours. “She’s right,” he mutters, nuzzling his nose against your ear. “Let’s go home.”

        You nodded and gave Christie a grateful nod before waving goodbye. 

        In minutes, you were downstairs and outside, walking home in the chilly, midnight air.

        “Shit, it’s cold out,” you whined, huddling closer to Kuroo’s side.

        “Maybe it’s cause you’re only in a robe,” he snickers. Your eyes widen in realization before you glance down and shriek. 

        “Shit,” you swivel around and lock your eyes on the apartment building, “we gotta go back to Christie’s!”

       An arm winds around your waist and halts you mid-journey, tugging you closer to a nice source of heat. “Oh hell no,” Kuroo shakes his head before throwing a hand under your knees. In one swift movement, you’re up off the ground, being carried bridal style in the opposite direction. “We’re going home. I finally have you back, and I’m not gonna spend another second without you in my arms.”