Bet (Tsukishima X Reader)

Hiii so I was wondering (if you have the time to do it ofc) if you could do an Akaashi x reader story (preferably female) where she’s Karasuno’s 1st year manager and she has a crush on Akaashi and they accidentally kiss ( like he falls on her or something ). Again, thank u so much and I’m a HUGE fan of your writing!

aslkdhfasdj this is an extremely cute idea and i love it ill consider using it for another fandom!! however i've long moved on from the "first year" age so writing that now just sounds extremely uncomfortable😖

definitely a huge fan of the accidental kisses bro im even gonna write that down maybe do headcanons later omg ty honestly this makes me wish i had written it back when i started years ago so i wasn't so uncomfortable with it now :( super cute idea

In the Black Widow’s Nest (Henry Creel x Reader) 🕷️Chapter 1🕷️

*GIF not mine*

Summary: 

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You're nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you... interesting. 

You've caught his eye---congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

A/N: All i ask is that u imagine henry creel’s evil face on jace wayland’s body that’s it that’s all u gotta do, the fic will do the rest. this may or may not be a series, i do have a few ideas for it (but let it be known begging will not speed up the process). one final comment: henry creel hot. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4328

Amongst the cobwebs, the dust, and the black widows, in the abandoned royal library surrounded by the scent of mildew and what once was and is no longer, a pair of eyes watched your every move. Like two frozen fingers poking into the back of your skull, the gaze ran chills down your spine and tightened the muscles in your shoulder blades.

Every move you made was stiff. Despite the season outside being spring, winter had found perpetuity within the four towering walls. There were no windows nor any lit chandeliers; the only light was provided by the brass candlestick that had been forced into your hand before you were thrown into the library, with the promise of being released after ten hours or at the the sight of one hundred spotless, unblemished bookshelves—whichever came first. 

Decidedly, you had three hours left. 

The candle was almost completely diminished to a pool of wax, and the flame on its wick had long weakened and begun flickering. You suspected one last breeze would leave you in complete darkness and at the mercy of whomever was watching you from the shadows. No matter how many times you weaved in and out of the bookshelves that stood at twice your height, five parallel rows of grimy mahogany stacked with fading leather spines, you could not escape the unmistakable feeling. 

This person had not made a sound when they had entered the room. There were no new footsteps tracked in the dust layered on the floor aside from yours, and you had not even heard the twin doors creak open as they had when you entered. You couldn’t hear them over your own breathing and certainly not over the pounding of your heart. 

With every precarious flick of your feather duster over the worn titles, the clouds of your efforts mingled with those of your own exhales. You kept your gaze low, eyes focused on only the task in front of you with the hope—artificial hope—that if you did not disturb them with your own attention, they would eventually remove theirs from you. 

Time trudged by as you shifted from bookshelf to bookshelf, the clogs on your feet scraping the hardwood floors. You kept a wooden chair in tow, collected from one of the tables arranged in the center of the room, and dragged it in closer to the nearest bookshelf, clambering atop the seat and lifting onto your toes to dust the top row of books. The cobwebs were thickest here, spiders having been left to their lonesome far too long and creating their own colony. 

You could barely reach and dusted blindly, allowing the length of the feathers to do most of the work as you ignored the cramps festering throughout your calves. A soft gust of wind floated past and tousled the flyaways at your brow, and as you purse your lips to blow them back and out of your lashes, the room flickered and fell into darkness. 

The candle had finally gone out. 

You squinted and hissed a curse under your breath, your gaze snapping to the outline of the table, where you could barely make out the bowl of wax and nothing more. Just my luck, you thought as you withdrew your feather duster from the bookshelf top. You would have to retrieve a new taper from one of the maids’ closets, though you sincerely doubted the head maid would be all too pleased with your explanation.

Excuses, excuses, you could imagine her barking at you, ire swirling in her small, black eyes. Candles don’t just go out on their own.

“She’ll probably just set my hand on fire and lock me back in here,” you grumbled, huffing as you grabbed the backing of your chair to dismount. A faint tickle on the back of your hand drew your attention. “Hell will freeze over before she—”

Spider.

You yelped, a blasphemy falling from your lips as your clogs slipped on the polished wood seat. Your back hit the ground first, a pained shock shooting from your tailbone up to where your head smacked against the ground with the whiplash of your fall. 

White sparkles lit up your vision, and you sputtered out a cough, not bothering to blink them away. An ache throbbed at your lower back, pulsing at the same wavelength as the ringing in your ears and drawing a groan from your lips. An odd smarting festered up your spine, not unlike a chill. 

Carefully, you slumped back, your head resting against the hard floor and your legs straightening out. You didn’t want to get back up; you didn’t want to move. For a few moments, you let the pain overcome you while you wheezed for breath, choking on the dust that had become unsettled by your fall. It rose and hung in the dark air around you, blurred and wavering with your heartbeat. 

For a few moments, you forgot that someone had been watching you. 

And you certainly didn’t want to know where the spider had wound up. 

The smallest vibration of light footsteps trembled underneath your fingertips, and a sharp pain shot through your skull. Light, blinding and bright and excruciatingly insistent, is all you can see when the vibration stops and some glowing form hinges over you. 

“Not dead,” are the words you think you hear, husked in a monotonous, low gravel and feeding into the loud hum in your head. It’s muffled between the blood pounding in your ears and the hazy confusion that had begun to fog over your mind. 

“Not yet, at least.”

You licked your lips, eyes fluttering closed, then open, then closed again. “What?” you mumbled breathlessly. 

The glowing form dims, gradually painted by an orange hue. When metal thuds on wood, you guess it must be a candle joining your pool of wax on the table, and before long the presence hovers over you again. Tree sap swarms where the scent of mildewed books had been lingering, and, in a cruel twist of fate, you hazard a guess that this is one of the courtiers the head maid had shrilled about avoiding at all costs. 

Or worse—a member of the royal family. 

But how? And why? None of them would ever idle about in a damp, endlessly cold library. The smell bordered on revolting, half of the volumes were wrinkled and illegible, and you couldn’t walk two steps inside without grime caking your face and clothes. Not to mention, the spiders. Disgusting, horrid spiders. 

Black widows, if the head maid was to be believed. 

The wintry library would never be home to festivities of the upper class, not even the occasional unsolicited rendezvous. There were dining rooms and bedrooms and poor, innocent gardens for all the horrific things they did to one another; entire wings dedicated to the sybaritic tendencies of royalty. 

But this man before you—oh, how otherworldly he was. 

You could believe that he had been the one watching you with how his eyes pierced you in this moment, a being such as him the only one capable of having a tangible effect with a single glance. 

You took in his sharp cheekbones, the soft slope of his nose, his slate blue eyes. His face was haloed by mussed, golden hair, and two pale pink lips set against each other as a look of disinterest with ease. His entire appearance, from his lithe figure to the way his eyes dragged over you, exuded a superiority that had been trained to perfection. 

Staring at him felt like drinking a sweet wine, far too indulgent and alluring to ever be truly satiated, and yet you know all too well it would be condemning to keep on as you are. You know this man has a rank heavens above yours; his skin, tanned and unblemished, has never felt the dust and dirt that encompasses you every day, and his body has never held your scars.

In your muddled daze, you imagined barreling headfirst into damnation for acquainting with this handsome being. Whether he be a marquess or a lord or, God forbid, even a duke, being seen in such close quarters with him was strictly forbidden, especially with the royal prince’s season for courting beginning in a week. 

And then you felt yourself spiraling—you imagined him curling over you, his deft fingers sliding underneath your nape, tracing the curve of your scalp and feeling for injury. You imagined his eyes warming pleasantly as he found you safe and unharmed. You imagined he gave a damn. 

But he didn’t. He never would. 

His hands fell to his hips, the loosely fitted, half-unbuttoned white tunic he donned exposing more toned skin while he glowered down at you.

He certainly wasn’t going to wax poetic about your welfare. 

“No blood.” His head tilted to one side slightly, blond tufts of hair following suit. “And thankfully no mess. I’d have hated to invite yet another servant in here, even if it was to drag your body out.”

A shiver tore through your spine, and you had the most horrible feeling that if you died somehow in this moment, no one would bat an eye—especially not the man before you.

His voice had that regal lilt, the one you could have never gained in your small village outside of the castle. You’d only ever heard it on a few of the higher-ranking maids—certainly none of the girls you had been hired with had such accents either—as well as some passing royalty on your first few days of traipsing the castle with a guide. His voice was deep and raspy, as though he spent his days either growling out orders or not speaking at all. You wonder if that was how he found it so easy to watch you mutely.

Feeling entirely too vulnerable, supine as you were, you brace your hands against the floor and writhe your way into a sitting position, head swimming with vertigo. Bile rises in your throat, and you press your eyes closed, tight, waiting out the wave. The idea that dragging your gaze away from him had played a part in the nausea tickles the back of your mind. 

He watches, seeming somewhat interested, as you struggle.

Once, in your small village, a wolf had snuck into the farmer’s fields. You remember watching from your doorway that morning, the sun barely risen, as the wolf tackled a single lamb and began eating it alive. 

The blood coated its paws and muzzle. Bones crackled with the snapping jaws. Even after the lamb had stopped squealing, the hunger in the wolf’s eyes never quite seemed satiated. 

Something in the man’s and the wolf’s gazes made them indistinguishable to you in that moment. 

The cruel sneers and jeering laughs of the royals you’d seen so far could only contain so much antagonism. This man was cut from a different cloth. 

His body, all relaxed muscles and agile limbs, had a vigorous, agitated thing running within the veins of his arms, sleeves rolled to the elbows; the cruelty in his mien was something you had only ever encountered in wild animals. 

Panic chills the sweat on your brow. Laboriously, you wrench one hand on a bookshelf, hoisting yourself up despite the blaring pain climbing up your spine, and onto your feet. You can feel the weakness in your knees the second you try to take another step, the defiant outcry of your mind and body as you try to move, but the man is so close. The warning sirens in your mind wail. 

A hand grapples around your free wrist, insistent and rigid. 

“Stop.”

You flinch, and your first instinct is to twist away and run. His grip is iron-tight, though, and without much resistance, he spins you back to face him. Frantically, your eyes once more swallow up his bronze, toned skin in the shadows of his candle, waiting for a strike. 

In return, the weight of his gaze bows your shoulders, fostering an urge to find a corner and curl up until you can’t anymore. Something you can scarcely identify flickers through his blue eyes. He’s staring at your wrist, locked in his, and then he’s staring at you, his lips tight and his face hard as stone. Like before, you can feel him searching you, taking note of your every move. 

He’s scrutinizing you like a bug, uncertain of just how and in what way to crush you under his heel. It’s the way he had when his gaze was all you knew about him, and you have no trouble imagining yourself splatting underneath his boot. 

But a sound rings in the distance, drawing your attention away from him entirely. 

Ringing. Ringing like church bells. Ringing like the clang of the metal clapper striking tarnished ocher and rust. The kingdom’s clock tower made the same sound. 

A chime, maybe.

Or a knell. 

But you were almost positive that sound couldn’t be heard so far away, crammed deeply within the towering castle walls. Especially at its volume. 

It chimes again, and you slam both hands to your ears, heart pounding. It’s deafening. You can’t breathe, and you can barely see, still tangled up in the man’s eyes. They’ve grown so cold and strike you so much harder your teeth begin to chatter. 

“No,” you whisper, though you’re not quite sure what you’re protesting. “Please.”

His pale lips turn red as he smirks, and every angle of his face sharpens into focus. The room fades into black and white. Musty bindings and rotting pages no longer invade your nostrils. It’s like your brain is shutting off each sense one by one so you can take in more of him. 

And you can’t seem to look away. 

No. 

By the third chime, you can barely feel the pain that had been radiating through your body, and the release is almost blissful. Beckoning. You’re swathed up in the tranquility, ears stuffed with cotton and head buzzing in the silence. When your whole body starts rocking back and forth, waiting for another agonizing chime, your knees begin to feel like rubber, suddenly too malleable to stand upon.

A fourth chime, earsplitting. 

They buckle. 

You snap your hands forward in a panic, yelping when you stumble.

All your senses return as fast as the pinch of a needle. Blood roars in your ears, and soreness floods your every limb. It’s like trying to squeeze into clothes that have become too small and completely ripping the seams—all the sights, the smells, the feelings overload your brain too quickly, causing it to swell and split open. 

Your only lifeline is a radiating source of heat, and you cling to it so hard you're half afraid you might smother it. But when your embrace tightens, so too does your grip on reality. You can almost unscramble your own thoughts again—all the curse words you’ve ever known combined with prayers to the heavens above. Giving yourself into refuge becomes second nature, and you burrow further into the cradle of warmth.

A jolt runs up and down your back, and your skull feels cracked in two. 

But the eerie quiet of the library registers anyway. The chiming is gone. 

Blissful silence remains, only occasionally pierced by your gasping breaths. You want to nuzzle deeper, the warmth firm and solid, as the simmering underneath your skin wanes, yet there seems to be no space left that your form hasn’t already curled into.

“What just happened?” Your voice wavers, and it echoes back so loudly that you flinch. 

You can’t see a thing. The dim outlines of the room fuzz and blend, and if you weren’t standing on your own two feet, you wouldn’t have been able to tell up from down. But the chill still nips at your skin. The library hasn’t changed. Nothing’s changed but you. 

But there’s no explanation for the bell-ringing, the sensory overload. It must have all been in your head; it feels like any second now, your ears are going to pop and reality will flood back in. You’re alive. But whatever had just happened was as close to death as you could have imagined—

A breath away from becoming nothing. 

So what stopped it?

Even more—what started it?

The questions slipped your mind the second you heard the library door creak. The pitiful sound allowed the entrance of sunlight directed by the hallway’s window, and the stiffness of your bones crackled at the thought of even more warmth. You felt half-thawed and left for dead, save for the fount of heat caught in your white-knuckled grasp. 

You went still. 

Heat. 

Heat in the library. 

That had to have been one of the most preposterous realities you had imagined since you had first stepped foot in here seven hours ago—and you had raked through your mental fantasies quite thoroughly in that time. 

Carefully, as though jaws might snap at you from the darkness, you withdrew your arms from the motionless frame and craned your head upward. 

Dear God. 

The man was even more beautiful when washed in distant sunlight. Heart-wrenchingly so. More alluring when his hair glowed golden, combed back waves ending neatly at his nape. More potent when his gaze speared yours, his arms limp at his sides, elbows brushing the backs of your hands at his waist. 

Terribly heady.

Five seconds passed before you caught on to your ill deed, and his white tunic fluttered from the speed at which you pulled away from him. When his slender fingers twitched in tandem, you could only assume that, had you waited another second, he would have grasped your wrists so tightly the bones would have snapped. 

How could you? Oh God, this was it. It’s all over. 

You’re seized under his watchful eye, his face washed over with rage, or vexation, or downright disgust at your entirely-too-close, worthy-of-execution contact. 

Certainly, it could not be the wonder you had initially thought it was. 

That was just not possible. 

Impossible. 

Maybe. 

“YN!” 

You jump when the library’s twin doors slammed open, a crotchety, accented voice rattling against the shelves. The clomping of two clogs no different than yours—though, possibly better polished—thunder towards the pair of you, located by your and his candlesticks, stained brass and glossy gold sitting side by side on the oak center table. 

The head maid—Miss Miriam Swinebottom, which, in your humble opinion, was evidence that fate did in fact understand the concept of justice—was a woman of an angular, acidic countenance. Two beady eyes sunk deep into her skull like snakes nestled within a tumbleweed, and she had the capacity for two emotions: disappointment and fury. With a distaste for all things insouciant, the skeletal woman wielded the newly hired maids like an army of rats; she sent all of you scuttling over every inch of the castle and cleaning until your bodies were slow and stiff as though submerged in deep water. 

And you had no doubt that, the second that gaze fell upon you, she was out for blood. The terror that began pulsing in every nerve was no different than when you had first noticed the foreboding air around the blond man. You were not going to get out of this without a scratch. 

Miss Miriam took in you first, but not for long. Soon enough, both of you, as one incriminating sight, were being ascertained. 

You knew what she saw. 

One of her new maids, no better than the grime beneath her shoe, inches away from a royal. 

Unseasoned in the ways of the castle, naive to the new problem you’ve just sprouted, a true simpleton for what you’ve done. You. 

You, with unsteady eyes and flushed cheeks, his shirt unbuttoned, blond hair tousled. 

Fresh meat. 

Dead meat. 

And you hadn’t even done anything. 

You stumble back another step and hesitate to make an excuse. Words, you’d learned, were no better than handing Miss Miriam a switch. Best stay silent and pray for mercy.

Or, rather, for a quick recovery. 

Curiosity slips out of your hands, and you sneak a glance at the man. 

He’s wicked all over again. Somewhat unimpressed by the turn of events, he appears, but the emotion mingles with a strong sense of antagonism no nobility can seem to restrain. You’re only half-glad looks can’t kill. Miss Miriam would be worse off than six feet deep by now. 

To your surprise, she does not snatch you away with promises of a beating. She doesn’t get a step closer. 

Instead, the head maid folds into a low curtsy, then rises back up, bowing her head. “Your Highness.”

You tense at her actions, mind falling blank. 

No. He couldn’t be. 

Your Highness? Your Highness?

But as his gaze trails away from her and back to you, his face abruptly void, you can only stagger back another step, knees giving way into a curtsy as you copy Miss Miriam.

Waiting.

He is.

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Creel Dynasty.

And here you had been, none the wiser, completely ignorant to the danger you’d just placed yourself in. 

For a long, excruciating moment, nothing happens. He does not touch you, nor does he move. The only sound filling the room is bated breath and whispering winds. 

Prince Henry. The prized catch of all the kingdoms. Aristocracy who’d never even scoff at a servant like you were here to court him. 

And you’d been so close—you could still feel the ghost of his warmth under your fingertips. 

A huff perks your ears, but you bite your tongue, waiting. He moves, one slow footstep at a time, nearing you with his polished, leather boots. You watch them as they grow closer. 

You watch them as they hesitate in front of you.

And then you watch them as they pass, each thump of leather against hardwood further and further away until there’s no doubt he has left the library. 

The older maid hitches a second longer before she rises, spitting your name like bile. “YN.” Her footsteps thunder toward you, and you barely have time to straighten before she has an iron grip on your upper arm, hauling you out of the room. 

“You had such a simple task. Clean the library and get out.” She grits her teeth, eyes flaring. “No one has used it in a decade, and yet what do I find but a dusty library and you. You, whoring yourself around the prince. And you said you weren’t a wench before I hired you.”

  She leads you down the castle’s marble hallways, dim from the setting sun yet well-lit by the sconces lining the walls. No matter how much you stumble and grunt, she drags you after her into the servants’ wing, swiftly finding the maids’ hall and barging you through the doorway. 

The room falls silent when the door slams shut, and while no crowd gathers, you are certainly the center of attention to the maids awaiting attending dinner. Stomachs are rumbling, but you have no doubt they would rather feast their eyes on this spectacle first. 

Tears pinch at the bridge of your nose. You can’t cry; you didn’t want to be one of the maids that cried. Those that did were in the latter half of the new hires who were younger than you. And you weren’t a little girl anymore. 

No crying. 

But, oh, you were scared when Miss Miriam paraded you in front of the others, hissing warnings and threats of punishment for girls who did what you had done. 

“-traipsing herself around in front of a most respected royal.” Black, burning eyes latch back onto you. “Tell me, YN, what did you think would happen?”

You flinch. 

There’s no point in looking to others for help. You don’t know them well enough to have friends. It’s been three days, and only one name has stuck. 

But you know it’s a sea of pity, disappointment, and nervous movement flowing back and forth. 

“It,” your voice cracks, and you pause, blinking rapidly. Another older maid, same regal accent, same strict demeanor, same gaze hissing you deserve this you deserve this you deserve this, approaches from behind. “It was an accident—”

You reel back into her waiting arms with a yelp. A stinging burn lances at your cheek, and if you hadn’t seen Miss Miriam’s bony hand fall back to her side, you would have thought she’d slashed open your cheek with an average kitchen knife. 

A seasoned backhand. Was there anything worse?

Miss Miriam stepped back, her appearance leaning more towards irate than strictly furious. She turned away from you, searching the walls of the dormitory. Though you had never seen it before, it hung on the wall with a single nail and a small, looped string on the handle.

A riding crop, yet you had the distinct feeling it had never been used on horses before. 

“No,” you plead when swift fingers begin untying your garment backing. “Please, it—it was an accident!” You try to yank away, but the crop swings at your head. When you lurch back, the fingers resume and Miss Miriam simply tilts her head. 

Dread claws up your throat. The edges of your vision begin contracting with your heart beat, while a shrill voice in your head begins screaming to run, to get out, to escape. Cold air assaults your bare back, and when you feel the tears begin to fall, the maid spins you around, presenting the stripped canvas of flesh to the others. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all, girls,” Miss Miriam announces. “This is not a whorehouse. You are not here to prostitute yourselves to royalty. You will not even look at them.” Her voice directs towards you, “They will certainly not look at you.”

You scream when the crop comes down, the white walls blurring, and the skin of your back wails at the betrayal. 

The tears don’t stop for hours.

Masterlist    Next

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Akaashi Keiji:

■  Burned Promises 🔔 ☔

Every letter he wrote you was useless now. After he cheated, they were filled with  nothing but lies, and what was the point of keeping lies lying around? (Based on Hamilton song “Burn.”)

■  Language of Love ☀️

Speaking French in front of your crush was not as discreet as you originally thought. Maybe you should just start texting from now on…

■  Paper Cranes 🔔 ☔

A thousand paper cranes led to one wish. Or at least that’s what the legend said. Akaashi never wanted or even minded if it was true. At least, not until you came along.

■  Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) 🌦️💥 (slight 💋)

Supernatural/Soulmate AU; Series (Ongoing)

How do normal people react when they get kidnapped by a vampire and a wizard claiming to be their soulmates? Because you try to choke them out with their own breakfasts. But maybe that’s just you.

■  Rose of Thorns 🔔 ☔

Akaashi was much like a rose. He was beautiful, soft and enchanting. But he also had many undeniable thorns. (Based on “Rose” by Jereena Montemayor.)

Bokuto Koutarou:

■  Cock Block 💥 (slight 💋)

Bokuto just wants to get some, but the universe is not always on his side.

■  A Hairy Situation (Soulmate AU) 🌦️

Back home in America, YN was happy to dye her hair whatever color she pleased. But now that she’s transferred to Japan as a foreign exchange student, she realizes that she’s much closer to her soulmate than she used to be… hence why her hair looks like an explosion of black and gray. What an asshole.

■  If It Ain’t Broke 🌦️

You broke up with Bokuto for a good reason. At least, what you thought was a good reason. But right now you can’t help but miss him terribly, and according to Akaashi, he’s feeling the exact same. But did you really break him like his friend said?

■  Love Me Through the Phone 💋

After Bokuto leaves for an away game on Valentine’s Day weekend, you’re left to handle the day’s pleasures all on your own. There’s just one little problem–nothing comes close to what Bokuto could give you. Luckily, he offers a solution, and though it’s completely out of your wheelhouse, you find yourself desperate enough to give in.

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, slight praise kink, slight dumbification, edging (if you squint), (gentle) dom!Bokuto

■  Praiseworthy  💋

After winning his volleyball game, Bokuto comes over wanting to celebrate. The both of you sure know how to throw a thrilling two-person party.

Warnings: SMUT!!!, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink

■  Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) 🌦️💥 (slight 💋)

Supernatural/Soulmate AU; Series (Ongoing)

How do normal people react when they get kidnapped by a vampire and a wizard claiming to be their soulmates? Because you try to choke them out with their own breakfasts. But maybe that’s just you.

Hinata Shoyo:

■  Home Alone 💥

You should never leave Hinata alone with the responsibility of the chores in the house. Especially when your next-door neighbor is a dick.

■  Tug of War (Soulmate AU) 🔔 💥 ☀️

You had a nervous habit, and to your soulmate, it was a bit cruel. From time to time, you would occasionally tug on your red string of fate. You never really saw the effects… at least, not until now. “Hinata, are you okay?!”

Iwaizumi Hajime:

■  Innocent Misunderstanding 💥

Last night, it was all fun and games until Iwaizumi accidentally pushed you too far. To be fair, you did underestimate his strength, so it wasn’t completely his fault. That didn’t prevent you from limping to school, though.

■  Misleading Marks (Soulmate AU) 💥 (slight 🌦️) 

Your soulmark is a wonderfully misleading pain in the tuchus. Luckily, your hunk of a soulmate makes it all worth it.

Kageyama Tobio:

■  Petty Competition 💥

After you get a new pet in your home, Kageyama can’t help but feel a little neglected after a while. It’s all Snickers’ fault.

■  Volleyball on the Brain (Soulmate AU) 💥☀️

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

Konoha Akinori:

■  One-Sided Future 🔔 ☔

It’s hard to see a person fall in love with another who never intends on sharing a future with that person. It’s even harder when that person is you. (Based on “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bon Iver)

Kozume Kenma:

■  Indebted and In Debt (Vampire AU) 💥

Kozume Kenma is one of the most infamous vampires to ever exist, the legends of him and his clan rivaling that of Dracula himself. His preserved sarcophagus lies in the heart of Tokyo’s Supernatural Museum, subsection C: Vampires. You, on the other hand, are the reason wet floor signs exist. A chance slip, an accidental cut, and a band aid missing the trash can all lead to the chance meeting of you and the vampire committed to serving you eternally. “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

■  The Red String of Nothingness (Soulmate AU) ☔ Part 2 🌦️ 🔔

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.

Kuroo Tetsurou:

■  Bed Head 💥(slight 💋)

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

■  The Deal 🌦️(slight 💋)

Kuroo needs your help wooing the pain in the ass cheerleader that’s your lab partner. But what if Kuroo wasn’t actually trying to pursue her?

■  Forgive In Time 🔔 ☔

Kuroo always teased you, joked with you during class. You couldn’t help but grow feelings for him. Evidently he didn’t return them. (Based on “Ready Yet” by Sasha Sloan.)

■  Just a Little Confession 🌦️

A confession to Kenma doesn’t end as well as you thought it would, but luckily a tall, kind third-year is there to save the day. Still, confessions suck, and relationships are hard to read sometimes.

■  Pumpkin Eater ☔  (Part 2 Options: Second Chance or Never Again) 🌦️(slight 💋) 🔔

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

Miya Osamu:

Lapse in Judgement 🔔 ☔

A car crash has taken Osamu’s brother away, the boy you liked so dearly. Osamu was dull to the pain, his crush on you blinding him from reality. But when he dyes his hair in hopes that he could make you feel the same, he realizes he may have gone too far. 

Nishinoya Yuu:

■  Bad Sleeping Habits 💥(slight 💋)

You and Nishinoya have some pretty weird sleeping habits.

■  The Claw 💥

Claw machines are unfair, and your boyfriend is seriously impatient. You see where this is going, right?

Oikawa Tooru:

■  Across the Hall 🌦️(slight 💋)

Across the hall lived Oikawa, a smug womanizer who never knew how to confront his one-night stands after their five minutes of fame. To avoid confrontation, he repeatedly seeks refuge in your apartment, or in his case, in your bed. But what happens when you start to grow feelings for this amorous neighbor of yours?

■  Fake Marks, True Love 🌦️(slight 💋)

The hickey was fake, but the pain Oikawa felt when he saw it? It was real, and it hurt like a bitch. “Who touched you?”

■  I Wanna Build a Snowman ☀️

Oikawa just wants to build a snowman on one of the coldest days of the year with his beloved girlfriend. What could go wrong?

■  Maid for Him 🖤

You were his maid. His lover. His life. He simply couldn’t let that sleazy visiting prince anywhere near you.

■  The Miracle of Childbirth 💥

Yours and Oikawa’s children were the most amazing creatures on Earth… except when they acted like munchkin-sized pain in the asses.

■  On a Cold Winter’s Night ☀️(slight 💋)

Trapped in the university library due to a raging blizzard outside, you are forced to endure the cold night with the man you hate the most: the player who lives in the dorm across from you, Tooru Oikawa. But with tensions and anxieties at an all-time high, you begin to realize your feelings for Oikawa aren’t quite what you thought they were, especially when all he wants to do is keep you warm. 

■  Talking to the Moon🌦️

After breaking up to go their separate ways after high school, YN and Oikawa struggle to accept the fact that neither is willing to give up their career paths for the other. Instead, they both confide in the moon, wishing that it was their other half. (Based on “Talking to the Moon” by Bruno Mars.)

■  Warm Embrace ☀️

Naked cuddles with Oikawa need no purpose.

Sawamura Daichi:

■  Grudges and Ice Cream 🌦️

After your boyfriend completely forgets your one year anniversary together, you decide to give him the cold shoulder. He gives you an even colder shoulder.

Sugawara Koushi:

■  A Cut Above the Rest 🔔 🌦️

At the Shiratorizawa vs Karasuno game, it breaks your heart to see Sugawara get so excited by Kiyoko’s touch. After a long day of the silent treatment, your boyfriend must show you just how much more you affect him than any other girl around.

■  You Told Me So ☀️

He was right. You should’ve brought a jacket before trekking outside on a rainy day. You just wish he would say he was right.

Tendou Satori:

■  Indecipherable Secret Code 💥☀️

You could finally say you loved him back!...In private. You were just so nervous of how the team would react if you ever said it in public, but luckily Tendou has just the solution.

■  No One but You (slight 💋)

While managing at your boyfriend’s volleyball game, a nice, blond player from another school approaches and compliments you. He had only been friendly, so why was Tendou acting so weird?

Terushima Yuuji:

■  Pumpkin Eater ~Part 2~ Never Again 🔔 🌦️(slight 💋)

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.

■  The Bigger the Hoop  🌦️

Terushima’s got your heart held in his hands. And your earrings stuck in his ears.

Tsukishima Kei:

■  Bet 💥

You ended up wearing a green bean costume to school the next day. Why? Ugh, don’t ask.

■  Don’t Slouch 💥☀️

You’ve got a bad habit. You know that. So why does that blond smartass in your class keep ragging you about it?

■  Loving Tradition 🔔 🌦️

Tsukishima has accidentally started a growing tradition with you: he will attend your home volleyball games, and you will attend his. But why does it hurt so much when you finally miss one of his own games? Surely he doesn’t like you that much… right?

■  Practice Makes Perfect 💥☀️

There’s nothing wrong with preparing to ask out the guy you like. Just make sure you don’t have an audience while you do it.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

■  Sober Thoughts 🌦️(skippable 💋 scene)

Drunk and full of bad decisions, you decide to walk to Tendou’s apartment to wallow in hopelessness over your feelings for Ushijima. But wait… why is Tendou taller and bulkier than usual?

Warnings: SMUT!!! cunnilingus, first-time squirting, & slight praise kink maybe??

■  Story Time ☀️

When you are assigned a partner project with the intimidating Ushiwaka, you start to realize he’s not all that scary, and maybe, just maybe you could teach him a thing or two about Happily Ever Afters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🟣Headcanons🟣

Cheering Up Sad S/O (Tsukishima, Bokuto, Kenma) 🔔 ☀️(slight 💥)

Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Ushijima, Oikawa) (Sugawara, Kuroo) (Bokuto, Kageyama, Kenma) (Tendou, Hinata) 🖤 

He Has a Nightmare About Losing You (Kenma, Bokuto, Kuroo, Kageyama, Hinata) 🌦️💥 (slight 💋)

He Returns from an Away Game (Hinata, Kageyama, Oikawa, Bokuto, Ushijima) 🌦️💥 ☀️ (slight 💋)

How They Kiss (Oikawa, Bokuto, Terushima, Daichi, Kuroo, Ushijima) ☀️

Pretending to Moan Another Guy’s Name (Oikawa, Tsukishima, Tendou)🌦️(slight 💥)

“Spread Your Legs”... to Cuddle (Kenma, Kageyama, Nishinoya, Atsumu) 🔔☀️💥 (slight 💋)

Voicemails After the Breakup (Kuroo, Ushijima, Atsumu) (Oikawa, Tendou) ☔

When He Falls Asleep on You (Bokuto, Tsukishima, Iwaizumi) ☀️💥

When He’s Sick (Kageyama, Tendou) ☀️💥

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Yamaguchi) ☀️

Yandere Ushijima Headcanons 🔔 🖤 (slight 💋)

Yandere Popular Pairs x Reader (Kageyama-Hinata) 🖤

You Use the Safeword (Kuroo, Kageyama) (Bokuto, Tsukishima) 🌦️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

📱Fake Texts📱

Break Up Prank (Captain Version 1 2) (Setter Version 1 2) 💥🌦️

Calling Him by His Name (Third Gym Version 1 2) 💥 (slight 💋)

“Can I sit on you(r face)?” (Middle Blocker Version 1 2) 💥💋

He Accidentally Confesses Over Text (Tsukishima Version)

He Sends You a Nude (Ace Version) 💥💋 

Telling Him He’s Hot (Setter Version) 💥 (slight 💋)

Waking Him Up to Tell Him You Love Him (Libero and Wing Spiker Version 1 2) 💥

You Accidentally Confess Over Text (Bokuto and Akaashi Version) ☀️💥

You’re Horny (Third Gym Version) 💥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💬 Incorrect Quotes 💬

1  2   (3?)  4  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

📝 Drabbles 📝

Nishinoya x Reader w/ unrequited feelings 1

Suna x Reader w/ unrequited feelings on Bday 1

Tsukishima x Sugawara!reader 1

Yandere Daichi/Sugawara 1

Yandere Bokuto 1  2  3  4  5  6

Can i also be tagged to reborn? Love ur story btw! <333

Of course!! I’m glad you’re liking it☺️💜

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Haikyuu!! Version

A/N: I swear to God, I just write stories with bullet points🤦‍♀️. It’s an addiction I only give into at 2 am tho, I promise…. Maybe 3. Or maybe 6 am when my family wakes up to go to work, idk!! I'M WORKING ON IT. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons/mini reminder that I write for bnha cuz it’s been a fucking minute!

Word count: 1781

Bakugou Katsuki: 

The “Hero-Villain on the show but everyone ships them in real life” trope.

Bakugou’s the hero, but you’re the villain😯

In all honesty, you ship your characters together too, but Bakugou doesn’t get it. 

In an interview he did with you, he got so confused when the interviewer asked you both how you felt about it. 

“People are doing what?!”

He got a lil pissy about it. 

“You guys are calling that scene when she tried to throw me in a vat of acid our ‘first date’?!” 

While Bakugou just sits next to you in utter bewilderment, the attention shifts to you and you’re just like, “Yeah, I think they’re cute.” *shrugs*

*shrugs*

*SHRUGS*

Why the fuck were you shrugging?! THIS WAS FUCKING INSANE!!

Bakugou is all angsty for the rest of the interview, and afterwards you two go to lunch (for the convenience of course).

He’s still watching you order with utter amazement and eventually you catch his drift. 

*sigh* “What’s wrong, Katsuki?” 

His lips twitch at the sound of his name, then he reels himself in. 

“Don’t *sigh* at me! What the fuck was that back there?”

You’re just sitting there like “TF??”

He rolls his eyes. “YN, you actually…” he locks his gaze on the floor. “You actually… like that stuff?”

You giggle and it pisses him off even more. “WHAT?!”

“Oh c’mon, Katsuki, you don’t think the two characters would even be a little cute together?”

…

“Fuck no.”

“Just think about it for a second.” 

He reluctantly does as you ask while you order for the two of you. (You always knew what he liked to eat.)

Bakugou stays unsettlingly silent for the rest of the lunch, tearing away bites of his burger with angry chomps.

It’s peaceful, much like it always is around you. Sometimes he likes that about y-

“OH MY GOD IT’S BAKUGOU KATSUKI AND YLN YN!” 

“I KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER!” 

Bakugou almost flips out on the fans and their comments, so you quickly autograph whatever they threw on the table before ushering them away. 

You paid the bill and snatched up Bakugou’s hand, dragging him out of the restaurant before he could yeet a table or two. 

Days pass after you and Bakugou’s “date.” The pictures of you two at the restaurant spread like wildfire, but that’s not what peeved off Bakugou. 

No, it wasn’t that. 

It was the fanfiction he had found. 

People had not only written highly sensual acts between the two of your characters, but also between you two as real people. 

It was like people had no sense of privacy!

He almost couldn’t face you the next day after reading all of that. 

Oh yeah, he umm… he kinda read it. ONLY TO SEE HOW FUCKED UP PEOPLE WERE THOUGH!

You saw right through him. He had dodged your every move until finally it was time to film a scene together. 

You didn’t hesitate to grab his face and force it to look at you. 

“Katsuki. What’s wrong?” 

“... I read the stuff.”

Fuck.

You shake your head. “I told you not to read that shit. It’ll just flip you out even more.”

“I know but,” he glances around before pulling you to a more secluded area of the set, “how did they know about us?” 

You giggle and cup his cheek. “They don’t. That’s just what people do.” 

He doesn’t exactly buy it, but he accepts your kiss anyway. “So,” he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours, “we’re still on at my place tonight, right?”

“Yep.” 

(No one could know you two were together yet. He just wasn’t ready to see more “shipping” shit than he had already seen. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from writing the fanfictions.)

Todoroki Shouto:

The “they’re brother and sister on the show but fans are perverts” trope. 

Honestly, you were both disgusted at the idea. 

You hung out all the time with the other cast members and only heard of it when someone brought it up.

“WHAT?!”

Yeah, you were human, and you both thought it was a little nasty. 

“Yeah,” Kaminari nods with a grimace, “apparently it’s only because you two look nothing alike though.” 

“Still,” your nose wrinkles, “that’s just wrong.” Todoroki nods beside you. 

“Well, people are weird. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You two were both frazzled by the news, barely able to look at each other without even thinking about it. 

The next day, you two had a scene where you had to hug and kiss each other’s cheeks. Not an unusual act between your two characters, but now it was fucking awkward. 

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Bakugou glared after the director finally said “Cut!” after enough failed scenes. 

“We just found out our characters are being shipped.” 

It wasn’t really what you said that made Bakugou cackle like an evil witch, it was the way you both said it. 

Your eyes were both wide with horror and you couldn’t even stand to make any contact with each other. 

“You two are fucking idiots!” Bakugou screeched, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get over it! Our fans are fucking crazy, and I’m suprised you haven’t noticed that after one too many hotel room break-ins.”

The blond’s words took a while to sink in, and it wasn’t until you were both sitting next to each other on the backstage couch that you finally glanced at each other. 

“So…” 

“So…” 

…

Ugh, you couldn’t stand it anymore!

“Shouto, are things gonna be weird between us now?”

The thought almost hurt. 

Todoroki’s eyes widened as your own darted over his scarred face frantically. 

“No!” He grabs your hands and holds them in his. “... Well… maybe. I don’t know.”

You two had always liked each other. Perhaps a little more than friends. But playing brother and sister while having a relationship was never a good idea. 

A few days passed and you two decided to take a little break from each other. (You had hoped to get over your feelings so you could go back to acting like brother and sister like normal.)

Then you got the scripts for next week’s episode. 

“I’m adopted?” 

The next day, you and Todoroki could finally stand to be in each other’s presence. 

“So….”

“So….”

…

Oh fuck- AGAIN?!

Nope. You weren’t gonna let that happen. 

You threw your hands around his neck and shoved him towards you, pressing his lips against yours. 

Todoroki instantly threw his arms around your back, pressing you closer as he smiled into the passionate kiss.

Kaminari sighed in relief before slipping back behind the wall as you two pulled away from each other. 

“They’re good.”

The rest of the cast let out relaxed breaths while Bakugou rolled his eyes. 

“Why the fuck did you tell them that, dumbass?”

“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny!” 

“Well then I guess you’re just a SHIT COMEDIAN!”

Yeah, it was just one fanfiction about you two as siblings. 

TO BE FAIR… Kaminari only wrote it because he was shitfaced.

Kirishima Eijirou:

The “she was just supposed to be a side character but the fans fell in love with her and started shipping them” trope.

Yeah, you weren’t supposed to last long. 

Kirishima was the main character, a hero, and you were just supposed to be a temporary damsel in distress.

Oops.

Evidently they made your character a little too cute, a little too funny, a little to perfect. 

You were in for about half a season, and in that time, everybody loved you and Kirishima together.

You two had great chemistry on and off the screen. 

Nothing beats that. 

Except for when the writers killed off your character. 

While it ended with a kiss, you apparently died saving Kirishima’s life as one final thanks for him saving yours in your debut. 

The kiss opened both of your eyes and you knew you couldn’t lose contact with each other. 

Initially, his show only lost a few viewers after you were cut. 

But then it dropped by the thousands when fans spotted you two on a date, smiling happily like no one was around. 

Ahh, the power of persuasion.

People were boycotting his show left and right, claiming that they “split you two up wrongfully.” 

Shit went awry.

Everyone panicked. 

Apparently one major funder had a daughter who had a cousin who had a friend who had a dog that loved you two or something.

Idfk

Either way, the writers and directors whipped up some magical mumbo jumbo to revive your character, and the response was instant. 

After some half-assed funeral scene, they had you dig yourself out of the ground like some zombie, claiming that you were of the same superpowered race as Kirishima. 

The ship lived on, and your characters survived multiple seasons enough to make little superpowered babies.

“Man, I can’t believe the fans went so nuts like that. Who knew a little side character death would cause such an uproar.”

Kirishima nodded along with you, allowing a soft smile to grow on his face as he pounced, licking some stray ice cream off your lips before capturing them in a kiss. 

“Mmm,” his hand reached up to hold you in place against him. He only pulled away to press his forehead against yours with a toothy grin. “I have a little secret to confess.”

“Like what?” Your eyes were still closed in bliss as you licked your lips, reveling in the taste of him. 

He turned your head to the side and cupped a hand around your ear, whispering his pretty little secret. Your eyes flashed open in surprise and you pushed away from him to see his face.

You needed to know if he was serious. 

“YOU WERE THE ANONYMOUS ACCOUNT WHO STARTED THIS?!”

Kirishima nods shyly, holding and squeezing your hand in his lap. 

“I just couldn’t let you go. I wanted to keep seeing you.”

God, he was such a babe.

“Fuck Eijirou,” a grin grows on your face and you brush your lips against his, letting out a giggle. “I love you so much.”

You feel his smile grow into a proud beam against your lips. “I love you too.”

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

I WAS TALKING ABOUT WATERBOARDING BC HE REALLY DO WANNA BE SUFFOCATED BY THE COOCHIE😌😌

Jfc looking back at all this I cringe at the fake texts I’ve written🤦‍♀️

You really do have the best portrayals of each and every character you write for. Everyone is so spot on and accurate, it's incredible how you manage to write them so well with the excessive cast of each fandom! uwu I'd love to read more of your works, so please, if you have an AO3 or FF account, please drop the link so we can follow you to the ends of time!

Man I can’t even explain how much better this makes me feel about my writing. I mean there’s always those days where it just feels like everything i write is just eh but this message makes me feel really a lot happier about it. Thank you so much💖

I don’t have any more accounts than this one sadly😔 best I can offer is a Wattpad that I started years ago to be trendy and I never even wrote for it🤡 but I’m glad you’re liking what you’re reading now!

Your words made me really happy today, so thank you again💜

Thank you so much!! I’m so glad the point was coming across—it’s unedited and I was so tired of looking at it in my wips that I just pressed post😭

These comments are so sweet they made my day!🥹💜💜

Look Me in the Eyes (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: During naval training, your jet crashed and burned, taking your memories with it. But the lieutenant who saved you seems to know you better than he lets on. The only issue is that he refuses to tell you his name.

A/N: pfft half yall don’t read this anyway so imma just say rooster’s hot, oreosmama out *drops mic*

Word count: 3345

Keep reading

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

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

If you ain’t right tho😤😤

I was wondering if you were going to continue the Luna hunt fic you have? I really liked that one and just wanted to know!

oof yeah so like heres the big daddy issue thats biting me in the ass is that i spent like four hours writing the second part about five months ago but then i scrapped it bc it was trash. Interestingly enough, i recently came up with the most cliche fucking ideas for a second part of that fic--u know, the exact ideas that every single person has thought of while asking me for a second part that i had no clue abt thanksforthatguys anyways yeah we'll see if i got time to write it

maybe one day

I'm so glad you enjoyed the first part tho! What was ur fav part?