Oreosmama’s Masterlist

aHhdhdh is it ok to request a angsty soulmate au with kenma 🥺 with the words "a soulmate who wasn't meant to be" basically bc u are able to see the red string of fate, and you knew u were destined for kenma, however he fell in love with another... 🥺🥺

The Red String of Nothingness (Kenma x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You’ve been waiting for your soulmate your whole life. Preparing to go into high school, you’re excited for more opportunities to find your destined partner. But… then you find him. And his girlfriend. 

A/N: Angst. Why angst? Cuz angst. Apparently y’all either want me to improve my angst skills, or you’re just obsessed with the genre altogether. Either way, I am really sorry this request is so late, and I hope it’s what you were looking for. Enjoy!

Word count: 1444

        Your heart knew before you did. You were in the gaming aisle, stupidly deciding to buy a new game before the first day of school just to get ahead on your procrastination from the get-go. 

       Suddenly, your heart starts thumping like a herd of wild elephants as a wave of adrenaline hits you. You feel happy and excited all at once, but you have no clue why. 

       Then you see him. 

       A red string is wrapped around his thin, long pinkie while he browses through the games. 

       At least you had something in common.

       The string trails on the ground all the way back to you and you can’t help but grin in excitement. He’s perfect, probably because he’s your soulmate. 

       Long, blond hair with black roots barely brush his shoulders and he’s almost drowning in a red sweatshirt. His face is blank, but your mind runs wild, imagining all of the ways you two could smile together, teaming up to play games or battling it out against each other. And judging by the name on his clothing, he goes to your school too!

       Okay, I can do this. I can do this! I’ll just walk over to him and introduce myself!

       You’ve always wanted to be one of those people who could say with pride that they wanted to choose who they were meant to be with. To have that much self-confidence that you could find someone to spend the rest of your life with must be quite the rush.

       Sadly, you were an introvert. The red string of fate, connecting soulmate to soulmate was a blessing to you. You didn’t have to search for your perfect match, because he was right here, directly in front of you! 

       And you couldn’t wait to meet him. 

       Would it be awkward at first? Painfully silent after you introduced yourself? Or would he be a surprisingly good conversationalist? 

       You wanted to find out oh-so badly, but something was holding you back.

        I’m scared.

       What if he… doesn’t like you? What if he didn’t want a soulmate? What if… what if he had already found someone?

       You shook your head at yourself. 

       No. He’s around my age. No one finds a replacement for their soulmate that early. I can do this!

       Allowing a soft smile to grow on your face, you take a deep breath and set down the game you had been busying yourself with. Here we go. You swivel towards him, rolling your shoulders back and starting your stride. 

       Then you stop. 

       Then your heart stops. 

       Oh.

       A girl has come up behind him, beaming as she taps his shoulder and waits for him to turn around. As he does so, she holds up a game that makes his entire face light up. 

       He looks… so happy. 

       He accepts the game shyly and mutters a thank you, ducking his flushed face after she presses a kiss to his cheek. Then she intertwines her fingers with his and swings their arms all the way to the checkout. 

       Oh.

       You’d never seen a boy so smitten. Not even your parents or your grandparents ever looked that in love. 

       Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. Frozen in shock, you ignored the subtle tugging of the red string on your finger. 

        It didn’t matter how close he was. He would never be yours. 

       You were playing a game that someone had already won. Running a race in which someone was already hugging the trophy. 

       Oh.

                               ~~~

       The next day, you woke up feeling empty. No, not empty. 

       Filled with anguish and pain. God, how you wish you felt empty. 

       Feeling nothing would feel so much better than feeling all of this.  

       But life moves on, and never turns back to see those who are being dragged along in the dust. 

       So you slip out of bed, completely emotionless. You brush your teeth, slip on the uniform, brush your hair. 

       At a certain moment, you’re not even thinking. You’re just doing. 

       But no matter how much you do, deep down you know nothing’s going to change. 

       In the blink of an eye, you’re sitting in your new classroom. People chatter around you, filled with liveliness and excited for the new year. But you’re just there. 

       Your gaze is locked outside the window where two birds are building a nest in an oak tree. A third bird will fly by occasionally, but the same two never stop what they’re doing. They’ll be together forever. The nest is already built, and the third bird can’t stop it. 

       There’s nothing the bird can do. 

       “Oh.”

       The telltale metal screeching of a chair signals that someone has taken the seat next to yours. That person’s breathing has grown faster and more frequently stuttering. 

       A finger taps your shoulder, dragging you out of your daze. But it zaps you with the electricity of the first touch. 

       You strain to hold back a whimper. It’s him. Reluctantly, you swing your body around to meet his face. 

       Yeah. It’s still him.  

       God, fuck! It’s still him.

       The blond boy keeps switching his gaze between the string wrapped around your pinkie and your blank face. 

       “Did you need something?” 

       The words slip out involuntarily, bitter and spat with distaste. But the implication is taken all wrong. You don’t sound like someone who’s discovered their soulmate is in love with someone else. 

       No, you sound like the average, impatient student, reluctantly attending high school but wishing to just go back home. 

       The boy takes it this way, and you can tell deep down he wonders if you’ve noticed the string. 

       Maybe… maybe you could use this to your advantage. Maybe this could be how you handle the situation. Sure, one day you might regret it, but right now, this could be the only way to live with the pain. 

       “Can…” he trails off and glances away shyly. His voice is soft and warm, like a gentle melody to your ears. This is gonna suck. Then he holds up his hand to your gaze, displaying the string on his pinkie. “Can you see this?” 

       Of course I can. It’s a sign that you’re my soulmate. That you’re the one I’m meant to be with. You’re the guy that’s supposed to be perfect for me. The one that’s supposed to love me forever.

       You want to hurt him. Make him feel the pain you felt yesterday. You want to be petty and slap him with the facts that he was hurting you by being with someone else. You wanted to hurt him with the fact of How fucking could you? How could you be with someone who wasn’t your soulmate? Why are you so cruel?

       “Uh, yeah…? It’s called a hand. I have a couple of those myself.” 

       But you can’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

       “Oh.” The word falls from his lips with confusion. The boy stares at the string around his pinkie with furrowed brows and you turn your face when he glances back up at you. “Okay. Sorry for disturbing you.” 

       “It’s fine.” 

       No, it’s not. But you shrug and say it is anyway. 

       Your heart twinges with every passing second and self-deprecating thoughts filter through your head. 

       “Kenma!” Shoes slap against the floor as a girl runs in your direction. A girl slides between your desk and his, creating a barrier in more ways than one. 

       “Hey.”

       “Babe, I took your sweatshirt again. I hope you don’t mind.”

       “No, it’s fine.” 

       It sounded more than fine. And when a skirt barely covering a butt slowly grows closer to your face as she dips down and kisses him, you can’t help but resent your existence. 

       “I’ll see you at lunch babe.”

       “All right.” 

       He sounds flustered but content, and when you take a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, you can’t help but sigh. 

       Your soulmate looks happy. “Kenma” looks happy. Maybe you could be okay with that. You just wish you had been given a chance. 

       But maybe you two, as soulmates, weren’t meant to be. 

       What a useless red string this is.

Part 2

Uhmm I just saw the fake texts? And like Terushima with a star wars kink? ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ❤

Bro you already know it. How much you wanna bet he has a lightsaber in his closet that he runs around with when his parents aren’t home?

And what if like... he uses it on you bc it vibrates when it makes a sound effect😳😳

Aww shit, anybody else wanna see a haikyuu/star wars au now??

hiii! my username used to be @erinoikawa, i was just wondering if you could update my user in your taglist so that i could be tagged and notified in your future works? thank you so much! and i’m happy to see that you’re back we missed you !! 🫶

For sure i'll change it by the next update!! I'm so happy ur still interested in the story, and thank you so much for the sweet words!

ur writing is so GOOD i had a cut ahoge the rest living rent free in my head so much i took a nap and had a dream about sugawara

Thank you! And Oop😳

Honestly tho, ain’t dreams about anime boys just the best? I can’t remember the last time I had one, but God do I miss em😔

I just binged your account and I’m sorry for the amount of notifications you got- please forgive me:( <3

Akcndknfks you say that like that doesnt make me extremely happy :)💜 the notifs are never a bother, I just hope you enjoyed what you read😬😬

Assassin AUs

1.      ‘Wait, you’ve been hired to killthis guy too?!’ AU

2.      ‘My apologies, upon closer inspection it turns out that you are not the person I was hired to kill.’ AU

3.      ‘I haven’t decided if I’m actually going to kill you yet but first, either way, what did you DO to piss off the Canadians so badly.’ AU

4.      ‘They never told me the target was also a trained killer. Did they tell you?’ AU

5.      ‘I’m meant to kill you but I’ve been watching you for a week to work out how and you’re just too nice.’ AU

6.      ‘I’m intrigued; the last three attempts on my life were much better funded and prepared.’ AU

7.      ‘All my intel said you’re not meant to be back until next week and I’m sitting here using your flat as a sniper nest to kill a bad guy. This is awkward.’ AU

8.      ‘I can only assume we’re both missing part of the story here because that was supposed to kill you.’ AU

9.      ‘Dude, you just shot my arm off. Do they not hire assassins with an aim anymore?’ AU

10.  ‘Explain to me one more time, why exactly are you so desperate to buy this much Ricin?’ AU

11.  ‘So let me get this straight. You nuked my entire home city and you still didn’t manage to kill me?’ AU

12.  ‘Dude, no. If you kill me that just leaves you, the crazy guy and the CAT!’ AU

13.  ‘I don’t know who you are or how you got in here but I need you to give back at least some of the armoury.’ AU

14.  ‘Having drawn the short straw I’m the guy who has to explain to you why we can’t take out a hit on an entire landmass.’ AU

15.  ‘Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot back there but we are literally the only two people on this boat who are not assassins, so…’ AU

Envy on Leave (Spencer Reid x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After failing his field test, Spencer is stuck on desk duty for a week. You, his usual partner for cases, get put with Morgan for the newest case, and Spencer can’t say he’s a fan. Oh no, he’s not a fan at all. 

A/N: Hey I watch criminal minds now for one reason and one reason only. Can u guess what it is? Anyways, enjoy!

Word count: 2236

        His eyes had followed you all day. His gaze stayed locked on your figure as you smiled, laughed, and pushed Morgan away with a blush. On any normal day, that would be you with him, but since Spencer failed his last gun-on-the-field test, he had been punished with one week of desk duty. 

        ...Leaving you to partner up with Morgan on the newest case. 

        You and Spencer were good friends, both bonding over being the youngest on the squad while being somewhat prodigies. But where Spencer thrived in mind, you thrived in body, having one of the best aims at the academy and being exceptional at hand-to-hand combat. 

        Naturally, they paired you and Spencer together, tying together the two weak links. You’d needed more experience and familiarity with the cases the BAU handled; Spencer had needed training (or protection) on the off chance of a physical altercation happening on a case. But now that Spencer was confined to the office only, you were working without a partner, and so you had been paired up with Morgan.

        Something you didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

        He could see it, the both of you working together over a table scattered with papers. Derek’s hand would brush yours or your shoulder would bump his. You would snort at something he said or look deep into his eyes while explaining a lead you had uncovered. 

        Spencer burned with envy, jaw tight and eye twitching as he clicked on his mouse a little too tightly, only to hear a small crack. Glancing down, he scoffed at the sight of his jammed button, no longer able to move and therefore no longer able to select anything on his computer. Useless. 

        When he returned his gaze to your and Derek’s forms, his chest jumped at the sight of you staring right at him, a small smile on your face. The moment you noticed Spencer look up, though, you flinched away, a flush of pink rising up to your cheeks as you began to cough and spin in the complete opposite direction to avoid his gaze. 

        Spencer rose to his feet in concern, and Derek glanced at you in surprise, chuckling and patting you on the back as you choked on your own spit. 

        “Wrong pipe?” Spencer could barely hear him say from the distance but could read his lips. Not that he focused on those words too much, too busy watching the way Derek’s hand rested on your back and rubbed your shoulder blade. 

        It was when you whispered something then, Derek leaning in to hear you better and you, in turn, leaning closer to him as well that Spencer finally tore his gaze away. A swell of hot jealousy rose in his chest and burned his throat like bile. 

        His chair rolled back and slammed against the wall, almost shaking the room as Spencer snapped up from his seat. People startled to attention at the sound of the crash, eyes wide and confused when they saw Spencer as the cause. He saw you had twisted around as well to see what had happened, brows furrowing and lips parted when you met his gaze. 

        He held it, eyes never leaving yours as he tugged his computer toward him, pulling random cords. When he finally unhooked something, anything, he gathered up the cord in his hands and announced to the group, “I need a new mouse.”

        With his detached keyboard dangling by his side, Spencer stormed out of the room, leaving confusion and concern in his wake. 

                                ~~~

        “You need to tell her.”

        “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

        “Honey, you’re smart, not smooth--give up on this whole ‘lying makes me look cool’ spiel.”

        Spencer bit his tongue, trying to focus his eyes on the screen that Garcia had pulled up. Photos of the recent unsub who’d been murdering teenage girls in a small town. Stuck at the home office, Spencer could only wait for information of the case’s status to reach him, otherwise he had no clue how it was going or how the team was doing. 

        Or if you were okay.

        “Is it really a lie if there’s nothing to tell?” He dropped his eyes to the phone, still ringing and waiting for Morgan to pick up the call for the unsub’s identity.

        “No,” Garcia sighed, “but in your case, there’s plenty to tell.” She adjusted her glasses while zooming in on the various pictures, only peering out of the corner of her eyes to say, “Face it, Reid, you’re a smitten kitten.”

        “I am not-”

        “Sweetness, whatcha got for me?”

        “Suspect’s name and criminal history, as always. Aren’t I just a god?” Spencer rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and giving up on the argument as Garcia relays the information. Instead, he focused on the screen, familiarizing himself with the suspect until he heard your voice. 

        “Is Reid okay?” you asked in the background of the call, barely audible over Garcia and Morgan’s flirting. Spencer straightened up at that, head whipping toward the phone as he stopped in his tracks to listen for more.

        Garcia raised a smug brow as she paused mid-sentence, both lines quiet and waiting for Spencer’s response. Spencer parted his lips, preparing to speak before you asked, “Is he there with Garcia?”

        “Y-yes,” he sputtered, “I’m here.”

        The room turned quiet, neither side of the call quite sure how to respond. A shuffling on Morgan’s side clued into the fact that he’d handed her his phone, allowing her to talk to her missing partner. 

        “Oh, um,” her voice was louder, its shakiness more noticeable, “cool-I mean, good.”

        His heart warmed. “Yeah.”

        It went dead silent again, silent enough that Spencer could hear Garcia’s lashes brushing her skin as she rolled her eyes. There was a buzzing running along his veins as he sat and waited, thinking of how you’d wanted to know if he was okay, if he was there.

        “So… do- do you have any ideas about our guy?”

        And just like that, it was just you and Spencer delving into a case together again, even if he was so far away. 

        “A few.”

        “Give ‘em to me.”

                                ~~~

        It was the first unsub you’d taken down single-handedly, and the team decided to celebrate. “To YNs!” rang around the bar as the BAU clinked beer bottles together, everyone congratulating you and patting you on the back. A large grin spread across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes and making them gleam. 

        Spencer watched from a stool at the bar, a smile settling on his face dotted with a hint of pride. He watched as Garcia gave you a side hug, cracking her bottle against yours before whispering something in your ear that made your eyes widen. He tensed in his seat after that, grin dropping as a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. 

        She told her. YN knows how I feel, and it wasn’t even from me. Shit.

        Your eyes never looked up, never tried to meet his even though you knew where Spencer was in the room. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. 

        Panic rattled his brain as he watched your every emotion from then on, trying to gauge how you felt about what Garcia had told you. 

        It was hard to do when Morgan approached you. 

        That look was on his face; Spencer knew it well. After a few beers, Morgan was loose enough to hit on women, loose enough to hit on you.

        Like a hawk, he watched the interaction--Morgan spoke under his breath, you laughed, he laid his hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him with that gleam in your eyes. 

        Spencer should have known. He should have seen it coming. Why would any girl prefer him over a guy like Morgan? Especially you? Big, muscular guys who were at your level of strength and stamina, and even compared to your mind in some ways. 

        Why would you want him? He couldn’t even pass the gun-on-the-field test. 

        Even though it hurt, Spencer watched your interaction with Morgan a little longer, taking in how you nodded at what he said, biting your lip and blushing at what he’d muttered as Morgan pointed at him and- Shit, she’s looking, act natural!

        Spencer spun toward the bar, almost falling off his stool as he slammed his hands against the counter to balance himself. Heart pounding in his chest, he set down the beer, a sigh escaping as he set his elbows on the surface and dropped his head into his hands.

        If there was ever a time where Spencer envied Morgan (which wasn’t often), it would be now. He thought you and him had had a connection; every case aside from this week’s you’d worked by his side, asking for his guidance and in turn adding your own opinions, unfiltered by previous cases. It was his shoulder that brushed against yours while cramming together to overlook the same group of files and papers; it was his hand that skimmed over yours; he was the one you walked out with every night, looked toward for guidance, high-fived after solving a case, and laid your head on during a long flight home. 

        How could he have been so stupid?

        “Spence?”

        YN.

        A hand pressed on top of one of his, still buried in his own hair. His skin tingled at your touch, and his heart tightened in appreciation. Gently, you tugged his hands out of his hair, forcing him to look up as you took a seat to his right. 

        “Hey, the only one who gets to tousle your hair is me, remember?” you teased, cheeks blooming into a soft pink. Spencer straightened up and faced you, eyes trailing up and down your face. When you shifted uncomfortably, he paled in embarrassment.

        “Congrats on your first solve, YN.” Instantly, your face lit up, and Spencer’s chest constricted. God, he loved when you smiled at him. 

        “I couldn’t have done it without you.” You took a sip of your beer, missing Spencer’s face falling.

        “Actually, it seems this was the one case you have done without me.” His voice turned forlorn, attracting your attention. 

        “What?”

        His lips quirked in bitter amusement. “You seemed to handle things quite well with your new partner.”

        Brows furrowing, you set down your beer, turning fully toward Spencer. “Are you talking about Morgan?”

        Yes.

        “Yes.”

        You paused, gaze turning thoughtful as you observed Spencer’s every action. You could see right through him; he could feel it. But your words confused him. “This case… I didn’t like it very much.”

        “What? Why?”

        You shook your head. “It wasn’t right.”

        “But you got the guy.”

        “No,” you smiled softly. “I know that, but… I didn’t enjoy it like I usually do. Not that I’m, like, a sick person or something!” you rambled nervously, hands gesturing in a panic. “It’s just,” you clenched your eyes shut and took a breath, “it sucked that I couldn’t work it with you.”

        Spencer froze. 

        “What?”

        You opened your eyes and looked at him, face fully red. “I wish you’d been there. You know, instead of… in-instead of Morgan.” 

        Spencer’s jaw dropped. Your eyes widened. 

        “Not that I don’t like Morgan! Morgan’s awesome! Not that I like Morgan in that way, though--and-and I don’t like you in that way either! Wait, that’s not what I meant--what I mean is that I like you in a way that I don’t like Morgan. No, wait, I like you in a way that is different from the way I like Morgan, and-crap, that sounds wrong-”

        Your voice seemed to fade as Spencer watched you frantically ramble. His heart pounded so loud it drowned out his own thoughts until all he could hear was Morgan’s not the one she likes; it’s me. She likes me. YN likes me and misses me and wants me around her and-holy shit. 

        “-and so yeah, I like you.” Your mouth slowed to a stop as you finally took in a breath, face transforming from the previous purple to a flushed red. 

        Spencer couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t take his eyes off you. The girl he’d fallen for since the minute he’d first met her returned his feelings. 

        “Spence?”

        His eyes dropped to your lips, following the way they muttered his name. 

        “Spencer?” 

        He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers along your warm cheek before running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

        “Say it again,” he mumbled. “Please.”

        “Spencer?”

        “No.”

        “I like you, Spencer,” you smiled against his thumb.

        “Yes.” He leaned forward, stepping down from his stool and still towering over you as his nose pressed against yours. He tugged your lips to his, his hands drawing yours up to his hair before cupping your face. When you tightened your grip on his locks, he sighed. His hot breath warmed your face as he pulled away, his thumb brushing along your puffy lower lip. “Always yes.”

His Mask (Kylo Ren x Reader/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After your very first mission for the Resistance goes awry, you can’t help but feel a connection to the Supreme Leader sent to interrogate you. However, when he lets you go after reading the name on your wrist, you can’t help but feel like the mission hadn’t accidentally gone so wrong after all. 

A/N: So like… this was one of the dudes I’ve been drooling over for the past couple weeks. Just a warning, I’ve only watched the first movie of the prequels and even that was like four years ago, so I wish you luck. Kylo is just *mwah* so freaking pretty I couldn’t help myself. Enjoy my first fic about a *non-animated* person, and Merry Christmas y’all!

Word count: 4115

        Hot. Dark. Dank.

        The bag haphazardly shoved over your head blinded your eyes along with your other four senses. Stray hairs plastered to your forehead with ease thanks to the sweat you produced combined with the condensation from your own breaths.

        “Please, let me go,” you sniveled. “I don’t know anything, I swear.”

        Your hands flexed and tugged against the metal clamps strapped over your wrists, doing nothing but leaving behind a rash you yearned to soothe. The chair you were strapped into was more like a reclining board, leaving your head to rest on stiff metal while your feet hovered above the floor, ankles confined akin to your arms. 

        “I think you know more than you’re letting on.” The voice was gruff and modulated, giving signs that this was the masked man you oh-so wanted to be the last person to interrogate you. 

        It was frustrating and terrifying all at the same time. Not only did you have no idea what information they wanted to extract from your brain, you also knew your denial of such would only cause them to hound you more. 

        “Come on,” you whimpered, head slamming back with a clang. “Just let me go. Please.”

        Silence followed your words for a solid minute before a whoosh of fabric met your ears. 

        “Leave us,” the robotic voice mumbled, causing two or three heavy pairs of footsteps to trail out of the room. What you assumed was the door hissed to a close with one final click. 

        More footsteps, these ones drawing closer to you, left you only to tense up in anticipation as the heat of another person took the place of the stale air on your right side.

        The bag over your head was ripped away in an instant, causing you to gasp and swallow as much cool oxygen as possible. The light of the room stung your eyes less than you expected, most likely because it itself was dimmed with hues of deep blue climbing up the walls. 

        Taking in your surroundings, you immediately noticed your interrogator was nowhere near your field of vision--probably on purpose. 

        His presence, instead, was palpable behind you as the heat of his form rolled off in waves. 

        “There’s no one here to save you now.” 

        Though you didn’t need to be told that, the thought still drove a cold stake of fear through your heart. 

        “Come on, I don’t know anything,” you pleaded, shifting your position to try and stare at the man who seemed adamant on not allowing you even a glimpse of his form. 

        “Then perhaps I should stop bothering with the theatrics.”

        The man the Resistance had warned you about was… intimidating. At least you knew you could trust them about that fact. Black leather covered every inch of his powerful figure, save for his helmet and cape, and a lightsaber was strapped to his hip. Watching the way his hand twitched just near the handle of the weapon, you feared he would pull it out and slice you right in half any second. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears but it couldn’t silence his voice. Sweat dripped down your face and clammed your palms when his head tilted to the side. 

        He wasn’t shy about observing you, doing so for what felt like hours. 

        “What is your name?” he finally grunted out, posture never changing. You, on the other hand, twitched and shivered every few seconds, itching to crawl into a hole and never come out. 

        Should I lie? Should I tell the truth? Would he be able to know even if I did?

        This man held your fate in his hands. To him, you were just another prisoner to gain information from and deposit into the nearest waste planet when he was done.

        But to you, he was the man who could kill you without batting an eye. It didn’t matter if you were someone’s soulmate or daughter or friend; you were just someone who happened to get involved in this galaxy’s war. A poor soul among many this man was ready to sacrifice in order for him to gain power. 

        You were nothing but another bug to squash. 

        “YN,” you dropped your head to your chest, acknowledging your fate. “YN YLN. And I still don’t know any information that might-”

        Clang!

        You flinched as the lightsaber crashed onto the floor, following its path back to the shaking hand that had dropped it. The man before you now stood stiff as a board but you could hear him suck in a breath between his teeth.

        “Your name is-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “What’s your name again?” Unlike the last five minutes, his voice suddenly sounded less sure and demanding. He sounded unstable--one of the many emotions you never expected from one of the most feared people of the galaxy. 

        You hesitated, furrowing your brows before forcing your eyes to trail from his still-trembling hand to his mask. “It’s… YN.” You swallowed, licking your lips before continuing, “Why?”

        “Your wrist. Let me see it.”

        “What?” Suddenly, his every movement had your attention. You reared back in your chair and tensed all your muscles, trying even harder to rip straight through the solid metal. “No!”

        “Show me,” he ordered, his tone now sharper than a blade. 

        To hell with him.

        The second he reached for your hand, you ripped it away, keeping your wrist face down against the metal clasp he had unlocked to reach it. Just when he grasped your hand for the third time and tried to rip it away from your side, you did something that shocked both you and him out of the stupor of war. 

        Spit dribbled straight down the middle of his helmet, sparkling in the dim lighting of the room while trailing down every indent in the silver detailing around his eyes. 

        Oh shit. I’m fucked.

        Ever so slowly, he dropped your wrist and straightened his posture, facing his head towards something just off in the distance past your own. You bit your tongue and watched his every move with a hawklike focus, knowing that a man trained as much as him could kill you in a split second without you even realizing. 

        Even when his hand raised in what you expected to be the last backhand of your life, you never looked away or braced for impact. 

        So you grew confused when his hand traveled up to his mask, which came undone with a small hiss of pressurized air. 

        Oh. 

        Oh okay. 

        Wow.

        He was…. His hair was…. Damn.

        This man, the man before you, was hot. Beauty marks decorated his right cheek as hazel eyes burned into your own. A long, straight nose sat naturally lifted above lips that seemed too plump for their own good and dark brown curls that had never heard the words “helmet hair” just barely reached the end of a pointed chin--all of which made you consider your sanity. 

        How-… how?

        “Sorry about the helmet.” Nice one, YN. Apologizing to the enemy.

        His face never changed; he only looked you up and down, properly this time. You were too caught up in the shock of his surprising allure to notice just where his eyes had landed. 

        It was only when you felt your arm being lifted away from your body that you were shaken from your daze. “Hey-”

        “Hmm.”

        Your brows furrowed. “‘Hmm’?” You tried to rip your wrist from his iron-tight grip but you soon noticed the effort was useless. “What the hell does that mean?”

        “Your soulmate…” he trailed off, cheek twitching as he glanced away. “He is…”

        “What?”

        “He’s…” the man set his jaw and returned his gaze to yours. You only noticed there had been a warmth in his eyes when it was gone; all he gave you now was stone-cold nothingness. “He’s dead.”

        His gloved hand dropped your right wrist and it only flopped down to your side. He’s dead. Whatever emotion you’d had on your face dropped in exchange for a blank slate. Tears pricked your eyes and yet you felt stupid for even mourning someone you’d never met. 

        “Oh.” 

        The logical part of you that had shriveled to the size of a worm still questioned the relevance of this all. How did this man know your soulmate? Why had he been so adamant on seeing his name in the first place? What did he have to do with any of this?

        The man you still had no name for clenched his jaw and turned away as a tear slipped down your cheek. 

        “We have no use for you.”

        “What-”

        “You will be returned to where you were found. Now that we know you have no relation to the Resistance, your name will not be blacklisted and you will be left alone.”

        “Why-”

        He left no room for your confused--albeit broken--questions as he turned away and pressed his hand against a glowing panel near the entrance to the room. The door slid open to reveal a blinding, white hallway guarded by a single stormtrooper. 

        “Hey, wait!” You tugged against the restraints as your eyes stayed locked on his back, only to crash onto the cold floor when the clasps suddenly released. “Oof!”

        Click. With his mask situated back over his face, he finally faced you once more, his soldier standing at attention by his side. 

        “I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused you.”

                                +++

        “YN, you’re back!” 

        The Resistance leader, Leia, glanced up from the holopad. Her dark brows raised high enough to meet her hairline as her lips separated in shock. 

        “YN.”

        You struggled to meet her eyes or even fake a smile at the one who had greeted you. “General,” you cringed at your raw voice, feeling the onset of crying side-effects attack you all at once, “can we talk in private… please?”

        Leia schooled in her surprise enough to nod at the other Resistance members, gesturing her head towards the exit just behind you. They filed out accordingly, each one more concerned than the last about your distraught appearance. 

        Finally, when it was just the two of you left in the room, Leia directed you to the table she stood at, shutting down the holopad so the only light in the room buzzed from the ceiling, flickering every two seconds due to the overgrown tree roots weaving in and out of each electric wire. 

        “YN, I’m so sorry we got separated on that mission. I never meant for you to be left behind like that.” Leia shook her head at herself in shame, but something told you she was avoiding eye contact for a reason. “Did you-... are you okay?”

        “Yes,” you nodded, dropping into a single leather chair sitting at a computer a few feet away from the holopad’s table. “Yeah, for some reason, I’m fine. They-,” you glanced at your wrist before swallowing and returning your eyes to her face, “-they let me go. I don’t know why they did, but they let me go.”

        “Did you-”

        “General,” you interrupted with a shake of your head, “please, I need to tell you something.”

        Leia got the hint and grabbed the second chair in the room, sitting with a straight back and hands splayed out on her lap. They seemed to twitch for something--something like a weapon to protect herself. You guessed it was a habit of hers, but since you had only known her for six  months or so, you tried not to think too much of it. 

        Ever since she had found you holed up in your home hiding from the First Order soldiers that had attacked your town, she had taken you in. “Something about you,” she had said with a knowing smile, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.” She had treated you like her own daughter, much different from how she’d treat the other Rebels. Every two seconds, she would scan you for injuries or ask if you were okay. She’d even let you stay in her own home, in a spare room. 

        At least, you had thought it was a spare room. 

        It only took her two months of knowing you before she revealed the name on your wrist was her son’s. The very room you stayed in had been his, Ben Solo’s, and she’d wanted to make sure her son’s soulmate was safe and healthy in case she’d ever found him again. 

        She’d told you the story of how she got separated from him during a skirmish with the First Order and ever since she’d been searching for him. 

        It was only today that you knew she needed to give up the search. 

        “Leia, I-,” your breathing grew quicker and your headache grew worse and before you knew it, you were shedding tears. “Leia, I’m so sorry.”

        The former princess tensed up and reached a hand toward you. “YN, what-”

        “He’s gone,” you whispered, shaking your head and pursing your lips, “I found out when I got captured.”

        “Kylo’s dead?” she breathed out, eyes growing forlorn. You paused, raising your eyes to study her face. 

        “What?” You sniffled, wiping away the tears and growing confused at her words. “What do you mean? Who’s Kylo?”

        “The man who…” Leia’s words broke off when a sort of realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh.”

        You were at a loss for words, utterly confused at her silence when you noticed something. 

        Her eyes. Her nose. The hair, the nervous habits, the “lost” family pictures, all of it. 

        “Kylo was the man who captured me,” you muttered, eyes growing wide and thumb running over your wrist, “but he’s not Kylo on my wrist, is he?”

        Leia was trained in keeping secrets and her expression was as calm as one could expect, but it was only for one single reason. 

        She wanted to let you down easy.

        “No, YN. His name used to be Ben Solo.”

        “And it’s not anymore.”

        “No. Now he goes by Kylo Ren,” she closed her eyes and dropped her head. “That’s his name now… in the First Order.” 

        “You knew?” A spark of betrayal flickered in the pit of your stomach. Though he was Leia’s son, he was also your soulmate. Some part of you felt like you had a right to know what had happened to him--especially if he had done something as significant as turning to the dark side. 

        Instead, she had lied to you, omitting just enough of the truth that you would stick around. 

        Lord knows you would have left months ago if you had learned of the person he had turned into. 

        A thought hit you--a terrible, painful thought that had you gulping and biting your cheek. “Did…” your fingernails dig into your palms to steady your breathing, “did you want me to get captured? By him?”

        Her lack of a response was all you needed to know. 

        “Oh, my God. You knew. You knew the entire time. That’s why you took me in. You thought I could save him.”

        “YN, please, I had to-”

        “You didn’t have to do anything,” you clenched your eyes closed, resentment overtaking anguish deep in your chest. “You didn’t have to lead me to him like a lamb to the slaughter.”

        More tears fell, and the one person you thought you could trust in this galaxy only sat by and watched, opening and closing her mouth without a single word escaping. 

        “I just wanted my son back,” she finally whispered, “I didn’t want him to lose himself like my father had.” 

        “Yeah,” you scoffed, licking your lips and rising from your seat. “Well, now you’ve just lost another person.”

        “YN, wait-”

        “I’m leaving,” you breathed out, shaking your head hopelessly, “so please don’t bother coming after me.”

        Nobody said a word to you as you walked to the nearest empty craft and boarded, and the only ones who tried were hushed by Leia. 

        “Let her go. She wants to be alone now.”

                                +++

        The bar was chattier than usual, though you blamed it on being a Friday afternoon. The outside was hot and though you could still feel the beating sun through the glass windows, the tan building was a hell of a lot cooler. Air conditioning clanked and buzzed as you cleaned glasses and bused bottles. 

        “YN,” the bartender of the night handed you a damp rag and gestured to a table just over the bar ledge, “stop moping around or I’ll cut more than your paycheck.”

        You sighed and grimaced, accepting the dripping cloth before tiptoeing your way around the many customers already reaching their alcoholic limits. 

        Only two weeks had passed since the worst day of your life and you still felt the sting of betrayal and rejection. Not only had the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life ended up being the daunting Supreme Leader of the First Order, but the woman you had almost grown to love as your own mother had delivered you straight into the palms of his hands. 

        You were lost and confused, trying to find some sort of way to keep traveling across the galaxy by making money anyway possible. Sadly, only bounty hunter bars seemed interested in allowing an unknown, unwanted female to wash their dishes and tables. 

        “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, wedging a used fork under what must’ve been the third piece of gum stuck to a wooden chair that day. Gambling and poker around the room must have reached an all-time high as cheers and groans ringed in your ears. An all-around unpleasant buzz settled directly between your temples as you bit your lip, scraping at the gum harder and harder until finally--finally--the last string of green tore away from the seat and gathered around the fork’s prongs. 

        Forearm burning, you almost permitted yourself a small cheer in success until you noticed a change in the bar’s atmosphere. 

        Everyone was dead silent as the bell atop the entryway stopped jingling. The wooden door creaked to a close and five to ten pairs of heavy footsteps thumped against the dusty concrete of the bar’s floor. 

        Panic froze you like a deer in headlights, hoping your location in the back corner of the bar hid you from whoever had entered. You didn’t even dare raise your head for fear of drawing attention to yourself. 

        The person who had the power to silence a crowd of former soldiers, bounty hunters, and drunk mechanics was not someone you wanted the focus of. 

        More footsteps pounded on the floor, drawing closer before a familiar voice spoke up. 

        “Clear everyone out,” Kylo ordered. “Then leave us.” 

        Your heart jumped at his firm, mechanized tone and a warm wave of fuzzy feelings washed over you. After being by your bitter self for so long, you suppose the new emotion wasn’t completely unwanted. You just… weren’t sure if you were happy about its cause. 

        Eyes still locked on the tabletop, you listened as people filed out of the building without question, more than likely at gunpoint with hands raised above their heads. A solid five minutes passed before the room was left completely empty aside from you and your soulmate, and you chastised yourself for deriving some sort of pleasure out of the opportunity of getting to see him again. 

        “YN.”

        “Why are you here?” You spun around to face him, surprised to find his hand outstretched and reaching towards you. Almost immediately, it dropped to his side as he straightened his posture. 

        Deep down, your heart glowed at his presence, and you hated it. You hated that even after everything that had happened, everything you had learned, that you still wanted to see him. You wanted to feel his touch and see his face again. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see your own name in your own handwriting on his wrist. 

        You cursed at whoever had placed his name on your wrist, because you were falling for the man before you before you had even seen his face twice. 

        Kylo’s hands raised from his side, pausing midway for just a second before reaching up fully and removing his helmet. Like before, it clicked and pulled away with a hiss and, of course, his hair looked untouched. 

        That said nothing of his appearance, however. 

        His eyes held dark circles you didn’t quite remember from your last meeting and his lips seemed paler. The brown locks, as you took a second closer look, seemed more flat and dull than you remembered. 

        Maybe it had been the glory of your first meeting, or maybe it just so happened to be that he was feeling as bad as you had been without having your soulmate by your side. 

        No, it wasn’t physical, like a stabbing pain in your side. It had been more like a piece of yourself had been missing; like there was a hole in your heart that ached and ached, but you just didn’t know how to solve it. 

        Seeing Kylo now made it fade just a little, but just as much time together would be needed to heal how much time you had spent apart. 

        The Supreme Leader set down his helmet just next to your forgotten rag and gum-fork on the table before returning his attention to you. With a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, he met your eyes and spoke. 

        “I thought tracking you down would have been hard, and yet you decided to find home in a place where information can be bought at any price.”

        “Maybe I wanted to be found.” The words slipped from your lips without volition but you couldn’t deny their truth. You wanted to see him again because, though your first meeting had only lasted minutes, you found it hard to focus on anything else.

        His lips twitched at your confession and he took that as an invitation to step closer. “I’m glad then.” 

        “Kylo-”

        “Because you’re coming with me,” he latched a hand around your wrist, “willingly or not.”

        Your eyes widened and some part of you screamed to pull away; maybe it was the logical part of your brain, or perhaps it was your brain altogether.

        Either way, you didn’t care to listen.

        “I’ll go with you,” you nodded, “but only on one condition.”

        Hazel eyes met yours and he nodded curtly. “Anything.”

        “Let me see my name.”

        His brows furrowed for a split second before he released your wrist and removed his right glove, tugging up his sleeve and flashing just the minimum amount of bare skin. 

        YN YLN. Same easy handwriting, a little too heavy in the beginning but lighter in tone at the end. Your name was a bold black, a stark contrast from the rest of his paled wrist. 

        Without a word, you reached forward and snagged his hand, running your index finger over the name and smiling at the quick breath he sucked in. 

        You felt it too--the rush of pure endorphins travelling down your spine, through every nerve ending in your body. 

        Unconcealed happiness. Sheer pleasure. You shivered a tad at the giddiness running through your veins. 

        Kylo was much better at concealing his emotions, allowing only a small tilt of the corner of his lips while his pupils widened at the feeling. 

        “I’ll go with you,” you nodded, a small grin making its way onto your face. “I want… I want to be with you.” If possible, his eyes glowed even brighter and a hint of adoration creased the corner of his lids.

        “Good.” Ever so hesitantly, he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face. “Then we shall rule this galaxy together, my empress.” You leaned into his hold and pressed a hand against his own, intertwining your fingers with his against your cheek.

        “Just one more request.”

        “Anything for you.”

        “Stop wearing that goddamned mask.”

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

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

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

Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Yandere Haikyuu Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Sugawara and Kuroo Version

Bokuto, Kageyama, and Kenma Version

Tendou and Hinata Version

A/N: Hey y’all, I just wanted to say I am working on the requests in my box, I promise. Anyways, here’s a little something I wanted to write for me, but I figure maybe some others might like it as well. It’s yandere, bc honestly I just need more yandere Haikyuu content in my life. Enjoy! (Side note: Thanks for 1k followers!)

Word count: 1909

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

For the first few minutes, the home is filled with a dead silence. You had managed to lure him into your “bedroom” (aka the room where he kept you locked up tight) and trap him inside, blocking the door with the tallest, heaviest furniture you could manage. 

The only audible sounds are you sifting through every drawer within the apartment and you cursing under your breath every time you come up empty. 

Where the hell is it?

The prize of your scavenger hunt? The keys to the door. The keys to your freedom. You see, the door Ushijima held you captive behind wasn’t the issue-- it was the sheer number of locks that lined up above and below the knob. 

Ushijima was a strong man, but he was also smart. He made a door that not even someone of his intimidating stature could break through. 

It was quite effective, too. You couldn’t find the damn key ring that you always heard jingling from your bedroom that signaled his arrival. Every cabinet, drawer, nightstand, anything throughout the apartment was empty of your target. 

“What the fuck?” you hiss, slamming yet another cupboard closed. You’d even climbed the countertops to search above the shelves in the kitchen and in the nearby living room. Nothing.

BANG!

The sudden slam makes you squeal in terror. 

BANG! BANG!

It’s coming from your room. 

Ushijima. 

He’s trying to break out.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Even you can see from your viewpoint directly across from the hallway that the door is shivering. The hinges are whining with every slam as your kidnapper rams against the barrier with all the strength in his body. 

You don’t make a sound. Your heart is pounding, blood rushing in your ears as you pick through every hiding spot you can think of, hands trembling as you sift through pens, notepads, random things in every office drawer. 

“No, no, no,” you choke out, throat tightening at the booms behind you. 

Then you hear splinters. With a glance behind your back, you notice the door has been cracked in two. 

“NO!” you scream, frantic as ever. Suddenly, the keys no longer matter. You just need to get the hell out of there.

But there’s no windows. Not any that you can fit through. So you charge towards the main door, taking a page out of Ushijima’s book and ramming into it. 

“COME ON!” you cry helplessly, pawing at the door when it doesn’t budge. Not even a shiver. You kick against it, fumble with the locks, twist the knob, do anything and pray to God that it works. 

“YN.” No. A large hand falls on your shoulder, halting your movements. 

“Come on,” you whisper, arms dangling lifelessly at your side. All you can do is stare at your failure. The door is locked, and deep down you know it always will be. Now it will, anyways. Thanks to him. 

“YN,” Ushijima repeats, raising his voice just a notch. He doesn’t even sound angry or pissed. For some reason, it sounded like he pitied you. 

All you can do is give in. That’s it. 

So you turn around and grab two fistfuls of his shirt, slamming your face against his solid chest as you mourn, crying for what could have been, but will never be. 

There’s no will to fight when his hand falls into your hair, petting the strands gently while the other palms the small of your back. 

“You know I hate seeing you cry.” The rumble of his voice is soothing in a way, and part of you instinctively relaxes in his grip. “Come. I’ll make you a nice dinner to calm down and then we can discuss our new sleeping arrangements, since your bedroom is obviously unusable now.”

This man had taken you from your own home and claimed he loved you. But he was a beast, a six-foot monster of pure muscle. How do you escape that? 

Answer: you don’t.

“...Okay.”

Oikawa Tooru: 

“YN come on, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“It’s very cramped in here. Would you mind letting me out, darling?”

“YN, give up. You’re never leaving me!”

His voice was muffled from the closet where you had managed to trap him, stuffing a chair under the knob to keep him in place. 

“Fuck you, Oikawa.” 

“Don’t be like that, YN. Just let me out and we can talk about this!” 

Rolling your eyes, you continued picking at the locks with bent paper clips. At some point, you had seen this in a TV show somewhere, so surely it worked, right?

Honestly, you had no idea what you were doing, but you quite liked the panic that seemed to grow in Oikawa’s voice every second you fumbled with the lock just a bit louder. The smallest clicks made him whine from across the room. 

“YN, please! I love you so much, darling. Just let me out of here and I promise I’ll forget this ever happened. No punishments, I swear.”

Bile crawled up your throat at the words, forcing you to slam your fists against the door in frustration. “Shut the fuck up, Oikawa-”

“Tooru, YN. You know I hate it when you don’t say my name.” 

“Oh I am so gonna kill you!” you seethed, rising to your feet and spinning, throwing a hard heel kick against the door. 

For the first time in twenty minutes, Oikawa shut his trap. Maybe he had found a way out, or maybe he had taken your threat seriously. To be honest, neither scenario was appealing to you at the moment. 

“Y-YN, surely you don’t mean that,” he finally mumbled, sounding crestfallen. “You don’t hate me that much. No, no you don’t. You’re just confused-- you see, you can’t escape because you don’t want to escape.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You don’t want to escape because you love me.” A noise suspiciously akin to that of someone slamming their forehead against a door sounded from Oikawa’s general area. “And I love you too, YN. So just let me out and we can talk about this. You don’t have to be afraid of your feelings for me!”

Oh wow. WOW. This guy was the definition of delusional. 

“Oh Tooru,” you sighed, massaging your temples from an oncoming headache. “How are you so blind?” You draw closer to the closet, noting the excited scrambles behind the door as Oikawa audibly hears you approach. 

“You see, I fucking hate your guts.” 

He chokes on his breath. “N-no. You don’t mean that.” His voice wavers with every syllable. 

“I despise you.”

“No.”

“How sad is it that the one you love absolutely loathes you? Does it hurt to know that I will never love you? To know that you’re the bane of my existence?”

“YN don’t be like this.”

“Because Tooru, how could I love someone who is such a failure?”

“STOP IT! SHUT UP AND LET ME OUT!” 

It was a rush to torture someone who had taken you from your own family. To hear them wilt under your thumb like a pest. 

“Oh I’m sorry Tooru, do you want to be let out? Do you want to escape-”

*click*

Your mind goes blank at the sound. The door.

No. Not that door. This door. 

The chair squeals against the wood floor, being pushed by pure will alone. Simple strength couldn’t do that. And when it’s finally opened to the fullest, Oikawa stands in the doorway, head hanging as his hand drops from the knob. 

You couldn’t move, feeling frozen in fear like your feet were locked in quicksand. Eyes wide, you track Oikawa’s every move while you plead with your own body to do the same. But you couldn’t. 

Did he really just…

Finally, his head straightens up, giving you a chance to see his face. 

Stained with tears, streaks trail down his cheeks, but a small smile has formed from his lips. His pupils are dilated, not even squinting at the change of lighting.

“YN… YN, YN, YN. God, I could say your name for days. Now you say mine.” His voice is overall blank, but there’s a small tinge of encouragement in it and a dash of glee in his eyes. 

“T-Tooru.” Your meek whisper is enough to please him. In an instant, he’s on the move, approaching you and grabbing your hands, pressing them to his face before moaning at the contact. 

“Good girl,” he stares deeply into your eyes, running his lips along the palms of your hands. “Now, it’s almost lunchtime. How about we order in for today?” 

The sudden shift in his attitude… shit. You knew he was insane, but this? Was this even real? Had he completely forgotten what you said??

After seeing what he could do with sheer force of will, you didn’t want to poke that bear. No. You had never heard him so frustrated and broken before. And now, suddenly he’s all hunky-dory, acting as if that phase of utter fear hadn’t just happened.

Who the hell was this guy?

“O-okay.”

He smiles at your agreement. Then he pulls you by your hands towards the living room, sitting on the couch before gently tugging you into his lap. His arms are wrapped around your waist, but the grip is like waves on the beach. Every few seconds, it will tighten as his fingernails dig into your hips, then it will recede and he will loosen up a bit before the action repeats itself.

You can feel his hot breath on your neck and his strong thighs underneath you on the couch. The warmth of it all is almost too much as sweat, nervous or heated, gathers at your brow. Your own hands are folded against your lap, not daring to move.

What happened to the strong girl from a few minutes ago who was trying to escape? The one who was willing to spit at him viciously and throw caution to the wind?

The question was completely valid. But that was before you could see him. For a split second, you forgot he was a grown man, completely and utterly capable of hurting not only you but also your family. It felt so safe to be protected by a wall from him.

Until he broke that of course.

“YN…” Oikawa trails off, waiting for your attention. 

“Yes?”

“Those words from earlier hurt.” Oh God. “You didn’t mean them, right?”

The silence is deafening as he waits for an answer. At first, you thought he was being patient, then his fingertips began digging into your hips enough to cause bruises. 

“No, o-of course not.” His grip doesn’t relent.

“Good. Now tell me you love me.”

This was your fate now. A grown man, no longer the teen who had a childish crush on you in high school, had kidnapped you and you couldn’t escape. Your chest constricted at the thought, and your gaze strays to the door. I was so close.

“YN,” he warns, tone dipping dangerously. Ow, ow, ow.

“I love you, Tooru.” 

A giggle slips out of the man beneath you as his forehead drops to your shoulder. “I love you too, darling!” 

So close.